History of England 1-6

Having wooed and won the French, Heath had now to persuade parliament; while it had approved the decision to enter the European Community, it had yet to examine the terms. Ominous growls of future dissent could already be heard. The first difficulty lay in the sheer bulk of the papers involved. The task of reducing the terms to a digestible length fell to, among others, the future chancellor, Geoffrey Howe. Howe had a thoroughly, even oppressively, academic mind, and the arranging or clarifying of minutiae was perhaps his greatest gift. The result was a triumph, with the rolling ribbons of barely comprehensible directives cut down to a simple set of clauses. At one level, this could not but backfire, for with all obfuscation now removed, the full extent of the EEC’s new powers stood open to the naked eye. One clause in particular was prominent. Clause Eleven stated unambiguously that EEC law would prevail over British law and be ‘enforced, allowed and followed accordingly’.

None could ignore this, and Michael Foot, for one, had no intention of doing so. He had been dissatisfied by the whole process of simplification, calling it no more than ‘a lawyer’s conjuring trick’. But Clause Eleven deeply dismayed him. He and Enoch Powell did their best to filibuster, but the Speaker would not budge. He apologized for the fact that the House had not had the opportunity to consider the protocols more fully, but such was the hour. The House was assured that ‘a thousand years of English Parliamentary history [was] not about to be supplanted by the Napoleonic code’. Despite this, there was never any doubt as to the outcome. Although ‘full-hearted consent’ to the terms of entry was notable by its absence, a clear majority of MPs voted through the last of the legislation. And thus, on 17 October 1972, royal assent for entry was granted. On 1 January 1973, Britain entered the EEC.

The birth pangs of membership had only just begun – in little over two years’ time the whole issue would be subjected to the first of two plebiscites – but for now, Heath, Howe, Whitelaw and Pompidou could congratulate themselves on a duty well performed. Besides, the angry and the ignorant would surely see sense once the benefits of membership had become apparent. It was as well that Heath had realized his deepest dream, for as the year unfolded he had once more to face a recurring nightmare.

Over a billion pounds had been poured into the mining industry since the last miners’ strike, a clear reversal of previous policy. The miners, most assumed, were not spoiling for a second round. But their wages, though healthier than they had been, were not enough to draw more young men into the pits; an estimated 600 men were still leaving the industry every week. Then there was the renewed question of oil. Prices had been high enough two years previously, but now, after the Arab–Israeli war, they had quadrupled. In the miners’ gradual progress towards a second strike, there was no element of malice or greed. Their case was simple and even innocent in its way. They were going to ask for a further 35 per cent because they knew they were likely to get it. And so, once again, the cogs of negotiation creaked into movement. Heath was determined that the miners should stay within the bounds of his celebrated ‘stage three’ (a wage bracket which included some 4 million manual workers), while the miners and their leaders were equally determined to move out of it.

It was oil that proved decisive. The nation now relied upon it for 50 per cent of its energy. This in turn led one ‘little man’, who had been hanging back during one of the negotiations, to offer an observation. ‘Prime Minister,’ he asked, ‘why can’t you pay us for coal what you are willing to pay the Arabs for oil?’ It put Heath in a false position. Friends and colleagues noted a new lassitude in him, a weariness that cloyed his usually agile movements. What few of them realized was that Heath had physical as well as political handicaps with which to contend. An underactive thyroid gland had rendered him sluggish in thought and movement. The affliction could not have struck at a worse time.

Just when most, if not all, seemed lost, the General Council of the Trades Union Congress issued a remarkable minute. ‘The General Council accept that there is a distinctive and exceptional situation in the mining industry. If the Government are prepared to give an assurance that they will make possible a settlement between the miners and the National Coal Board, other unions will not use this as an argument in negotiations in their own settlements.’ Such a statement amounted to a hitherto unimaginable concession. The TUC seemed to be offering its sacred cow to the knife. Was it, many wondered, too good to be true?