What If Gordon Banks Had Played, Part 20

“the shark has pretty teeth dear, and he shows them pearly white”

From the Daily Telegraph, 29th January 1980

“Powell appoints new Crisis Cabinet”

Prime Minister Enoch Powell yesterday appointed a new crisis cabinet to deal with the growing threat from terrorists and insurgents in our inner cities. The slimmed down cabinet has seven members and will deal solely with the security of the nation on a day to day basis. Airey Neave has been appointed First Secretary of State and Secretary of State for National Security, he will retain the Northern Ireland portfolio and will have overall responsibility for maintaining public order within the country. Also in the crisis cabinet are Home Secretary Margaret Thatcher and Chancellor of the Exchequer Sir Keith Joseph. Former defence secretary Alan Clark becomes Foreign Secretary, while Nicholas Ridley takes over his role at Defence. Norman Tebbit has also been made a member of the crisis cabinet as Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster and Minister for Information. He will hold special responsibility for intelligence, the secret services and the control of information.

A full cabinet including ministers heading the other departments of state will meet on a monthly basis to discuss non-security related matters. Downing Street has indicated that there will be further junior ministerial appointments later today.

From “The Office of the Prime Minister” by Peter Hennessy (Macmillan, 1999)

The reorganisation of the cabinet in 1980 formalised what had already become an informal inner cabinet. Since the assassination of the Queen security policy had, in practice, been formulated amongst an clique consisting of Neave, Clark and, to a lesser degree, Thatcher. Injuries sustained in the Westminster bombing prevented Tebbit from playing an active role within Government until late 1979 when he returned to the cabinet and swiftly entered the inner circle gathered around Neave. Powell himself continued to defer to Neave on security matters.

The formal crisis cabinet met daily in Cabinet Briefing Room A, part of the underground network of offices that were set up beneath Whitehall in case of nuclear attack. From January 1980 the inner cabinet were permanently based in the underground offices to protect them against violent disorder and to ensure their close proximity in the event of an emergency. The wider cabinet met rarely and did not discuss major issues. It has been correctly described by participants as no more than a rubber stamp. When issues of major importance arose in a department outside the inner cabinet, the relevant minister would be temporarily invited inside the loop — most notably in the case of the Secretary of State for Employment, Patrick Jenkin.

The role of Minister of Information was a revival of World War Two practice. The effective censorship of the media since 1977 had been carried out under the auspices of the Home Office, and was in effect carried out on an ad hoc basis by the Home Office, the Ministry of Defence's D-notice committee and MI5. It was now transferred to Tebbit and put on a formal basis, media owners being made aware that any attempt to circumvent Government censorship rules would be met by the forfeiture of their assets. A brief revolt by the printing unions was broken by troops in February 1980.

Tebbit's role also encompassed the secret services, who had hitherto reported directly to the Prime Minister (in theory) or to Airey Neave (in practice). The introduction of formal lines of responsibility for the secret services was a departure, but until the relevant papers are declassified it is impossible to judge their effectiveness — certainly during the Powellite period the question of who was the servant and who the master is a relevant one.

5th February 1980 — HMP Binbrook, Lincolnshire

Blair Peach was woken by the ringing of bells at six am. The biting February wind howled through the gaps in the corrugated iron walls of the temporary holding camp in the Lincolnshire Wolds. All the prisoners slept in their prison clothes, along with any other items of clothing they had managed to smuggle into the camp. Peach crept from under his itchy blanket and joined the queue of men waiting at the water tap at the end of the hut.

Every day began at six, followed by the queue to use the “washroom” (although the temperature in the unheated camp meant that no one but the insane would actually consider washing) and a roll call in in the main area of the camp. Then there were mail-sacks, sewing of with the dubious highlight of lunch at one o'clock. Peach had been in the camp for three weeks, since being rounded up by the army after an anti-Fascist demonstration in East London. He had been held under the Terrorism Act for behaviour likely to damage public morale (or DPM as was the parlance inside the camps). It was a catch all statement that the police used to round-up anyone who stepped out of line, along with “acting in manner that could reasonably be seen to aid or abet the conduction of terrorist offences” — an offence which depended entirely upon which “reasonable” person was doing the seeing. It was normally a “reasonable” chief superintendent, and the normal explanation was that any opinion expressing sympathy with Irish Republicanism was in some way allowing them to continue bombings and shootings.

Peach was lucky in his own way — having watched other foreign prisoners he knew that, sooner-or-later, the order would come through for his deportation and he would be returned to New Zealand. For the other inmates there was no such escape — they could be interned indefinitely. There was no need for trial or right to a lawyer, there was only one way out...

The existence and location of the temporary prison camps was not reported in the press, but Peach knew from talking to inmates that had been relocated from other camps that there were at least four of them, all in equally cold and isolated locations. The recruitment of prison officers for the camps was less than easy — their numbers were bolstered by trusties selected (as far as Peach could ascertain) from the most sadistic career criminals they could find from a trawl of the regular prisons. The trusties were their source for smuggled clothing and blankets. The twenty men in Peach's hut had between them managed to acquire an extra blanket for Leon Greenman, the tiny, frail seventy-year old who had been picked up at an Anti-Nazi League meeting and sent to the camp. Peach had met him before, he had spoken at meetings about surviving Auschwitz. Now Greenman was silent, his empty gaze surveying the prison camp hopelessly.

The army guarded the perimeter of the camp. They were armed and the inmates watched the young soldiers warily; brutalised men with scared eyes, some still in their teens, nervously holding their heavy guns. Peach had never seen them use the guns, but all the inmates had heard them, deep in the night. Perhaps someone had been trying to escape, perhaps it was just for effect. It was impossible to tell — although the rumours circulated and people disappeared. The first time they had fired — the first shooting — there had apparently been a riot. The prisoners had overpowered their guards and taken control of the camp. They said that the troops had opened fire and regained control. They said that they had killed at least fifty (or a hundred, or a hundred and fifty, the number rose with the passage of time). They said that the dead prisoners had been buried in a mass grave out on the wolds. They said — but who knows?

From the Sun, 16th February 1980

“IRA Crucifixion horror”

There were scenes of horror in Northern Ireland yesterday when a young British private was found gruesomely CRUCIFIED by IRA terrorists. The private, Tom Leigh, was part of a British army patrol in County Tyrone who were ambushed by IRA gunmen while on a routine patrol yesterday afternoon. When they failed to return to base search parties found a scene of horror at the site where Leigh, 21 and his colleagues Simon Fisher, 19, Andrew Wilson, 23 and Philip Smith, 22 had been set upon by the Irish butchers. Leigh had been NAILED to a door as if crucified as a monstrous insult to all decent men and women in this country from people who claim to be Christians.

From Peter Buitenhuis, “The Great War of Words: British, American, and Canadian Propaganda and Fiction, 1914-1933” (1989, University of British Columbia)

The crucified Canadian soldier story has persisted to the extent that it had a brief revival during the authoritarian Powell period in Britain. In February 1980 the Sun newspaper reported that a British soldier had been found crucified by the IRA in County Tyrone, in an almost direct transfer of the WWI tale. No evidence has ever emerged to substantiate the story, although the names of the soldiers quoted in the Sun article are those of British soldiers killed in Northern Ireland during the period. In his 1988 evidence to the Denning Commission the editor of the Sun, Sir Larry Lamb, claimed that the story can from an unnamed Ministry of Defence source.

Time Magazine special, 21st February 1980

“When The Lights Go Out All Over Europe”

The history of post-war Europe has, until recently, been seen as a progress towards democracy. However, the last three years have seen an authoritarian government take power in chaos-stricken Britain, Ireland has become a country under siege as British troops invade their Northern provinces. The new democratic regimes in the South of Europe look shaky at best, the military looking greedily towards the faltering civilian governments in Spain and Greece. Eastern Europe remains under Soviet domination while Central Europe has taken an increasingly insular role, turning away from the global community as they build a bureaucratic and protectionist trade block.

In this special issue Time Magazine's reporters have visited the capital cities of Europe to examine a continent that seems to be losing its way.

LONDON

The last time I was in London I was woken from my hotel bed and expelled from the country for breaking the terms of my visa by visiting Northern Ireland without permission. There is little point now applying for a visa as a journalist — aside from those who are willing to follow the diktats of their Ministry of Information chaperone's the most the majority of journalists see of the the United Kingdom is the transfer lounge of Heathrow airport as they await connecting flights to the continent.

Gaining entry to Britain through unofficial lines is less difficult though. There were once hundreds of thousands of Irish living on the UK mainland, while all transport links with the Republic since were officially severed at the outbreak of the Anglo-Irish war, a variety of boats make the regular journey across the Irish sea, carrying refugees one way, and less humanitarian cargo in the other direction.

During the daytime there is still freedom of movement in the UK. All citizens have been issued with ID cards, but apart from at ports and railway stations they are not frequently checked — they are mainly used by the police as an excuse to stop and search those who arouse suspicion, and to harass those who are suspected of opposing Enoch Powell's government. At night it is a different story. London, like most of Britain's cities, has a nine o'clock curfew, with only those who have a home office licence (normally restricted to those working night shifts) allowed out of doors. The streets are rarely quiet though — the night is punctuated by riots, protests, shootings and bombings. While the Metropolitan police and the army patrol London's streets they cannot be everywhere at once.

London remains under the threat of terrorist attack, although it is no longer just the unofficial IRA, bombings have been claimed by anti-Powellite groups, including the resurrected Angry Brigade, a 1970s terrorist group that was blamed for, but still denies, the assassination of Julian Amery. The British press, once renowned for their vibrancy, are now no more than government poodles. There is a depressing similarity between the stories in papers that were once great rivals, as each is forced to parrot the Government's press releases. Any bad news or negative opinions about the government are, of course, removed, but the reports of terrorist atrocities remain, just to ensure that the public never forget their need for the protection of Powell's government. Several people suggested to me that the bombings may not all be the work of Powell's opponents — that the Powell government may, in fact, have more to gain from terrorist attacks than the terrorists themselves. I noted that each time they made a point of looking over their shoulders before speaking to me.

Thought is no longer free in the United Kingdom. The leaders of the Parliamentary opposition — the splintered and feuding Labour party — remain as a token opposition. However, the leaders of grassroots protests and anti-government meetings have been systematically arrested and interned as “threats to public morale”. The Government releases no figures and refuses to give any details of how many people are being held, but everyone I speak to in London seems to know someone or know someone who knows someone who has been interned.

From the International Herald Tribune, 26th February 1980, “President Reagan promises action on Britain”

President Reagan yesterday indicated his intention to take a new line towards the United Kingdom's increasingly authoritarian government, announcing further economics sanctions upon the UK and the USA's active interest in replacing the Powell regime. The Government of Prime Minister Powell has been accused of severe human rights abuses, including the detention without trial of political opponents and collaborating with anti-Catholic death squads. Powell ordered the illegal invasion of the Republic of Ireland in November 1978 and much of the country remains under British occupation.

The President described Britain as a threat to the whole of the stability of Europe and said that Prime Minister's Powell's government had presided over both the destruction of Britain itself and her special relationship with the USA, a relationship which had until now been the cornerstone of the NATO alliance.

President Reagan went to great lengths to emphasise both his and the United States continuing bonds of friendship with the people of the United Kingdom saying that “our quarrel is not with the British people, but with their Government. We do not wish to punish the people of Britain, but to save them from tyranny.” The State Department is in contact with opposition groups in the United Kingdom and the President has said that the USA is willing to play a full part in building a stable post-Powellite Government in London, including assisting in rebuilding the United Kingdom's shattered economy, and if necessary committing American troops for peacekeeping duties.

From the Times 27th February 1980 “Many dead in IRA attack on Oxford Street”

At least eight people were killed and over fifty wounded in the latest IRA terrorist attack on London yesterday. The bomb was planted near Selfridges on Oxford Street and exploded at one o'clock in the middle of the lunchtime rush. A warning was given shortly before the explosion using a recognised IRA code-word. The latest atrocity brings to 43 the number of people killed by the IRA on the British mainland this year...

2nd March 1980 — Chelsea

Lord Howe looked out of his sitting room window at the navy blue car parked at the end of the road. It parked there every night, the darkened windows failing to obscure the two men inside. During the daytime there was a van in the same spot, inside which were two men who had dug a hole in the road without any intention of fitting pipes or cables. Howe had spoken to Norman Tebbit about the car, he had said he would look into it, but Howe had heard nothing.

Howe finished dressing and pecked his wife on the cheek before leaving the house. He heard the car engine turn over behind him, and the smooth purr of the blue car pulling out of its parking space. The van would arrive soon to replace it. Howe hurried down the road. There was another man outside the underground station. It had taken Howe a long time to identify him, but eventually he had picked him out, standing outside the station reading a folded copy of the Telegraph. He didn't look at Howe as he passed, put folded his newspaper and walked into the station. He travelled the handful of stops to Westminster in the same carriage as Howe. He followed Howe up the escalators and then disappeared into the crowd, handing the observation over to the man who waited on the street outside reading a copy of the Daily Telegraph.

It happened every day, identically. Returning home that evening however, it changed. As he walked from the tube station, the blue car ever present behind him there was a sudden screech of brakes and a smash behind him. Howe looked round — two cars had collided head on in the centre of the road. The collision was actually relatively minor — it was the evening rush hour and the cars had probably been travelling at less than ten mph, it was enough to block the road though as the drivers clambered angrily from their cars. Behind them Howe could see the occupants of the blue car emerging from their vehicle and heading towards him.

“Excuse me,” Howe turn back round to see who was addressing him when he was grabbed, heavy hands crushing his arms and forced him down and into the car alongside him.

“What the? You can't do this,” Howe bumbled as the car swerved away, overtaking cars and skipping traffic lights. “I'm not some subversive, I'm a former Lord Chancellor. This is just...”

The man holding him relaxed his grip and smiled at him. “Sorry about that Lord Howe,” he said. “We had to get hold of you without your minders.”

Howe looked back at him shocked. He had expected an English accent, and feared an Irish one. The man however was American. “Who are you?” he said finally.

3rd March 1980 — Q-Whitehall, London

Norman Tebbit sat behind his desk in one of the offices deep below Whitehall. The air had a tinny taste deep in the bunkers, and the harsh fluorescent light bleached the colour from every surface. He finished scanning the report and looked up at Sir Michael Hanley. “How fresh is this?”

“We've got men on the executives of most of the major unions,” the D-G of M16 replied. “There have been murmurs of further action for the last couple of months, perhaps even something of this scale. This is the first sign of any attempt at concrete organisation.”

“And they will be meeting on Thursday night?”

Hanley nodded, “It's all in the report.”

“Is it too late to round them up before hand...if necessary.”

“It can be done...if needs be.”

- — -

Forty minutes later the crisis cabinet were gathered around the briefing table in COBRA, pale in the fluorescent lights and speaking over the constant whirr of the fans, pumping air forty feet down from the surface. Nick Ridley was smoking already, the fresh tobacco making little difference to the fug of nicotine that followed him around regardless. Patrick Jenkin, the Secretary of State for Employment, had been specially invited and sat nervously at the edge of the table.

“All the major unions are involved, including the miners, power workers, transport unions, dockers...” Tebbit paused slightly as he mentioned the dockworkers union — men who had in the past been the working class backbone of Powell's support. “Print workers, teachers, so on and so forth. It would result in total stoppage.”

“There is no way the army can cover everything,” Nick Ridley said, briefing taking the grubby cigarette from his mouth. “The troops are stretched to the absolute limit. Absolute limit.”

“This can't be allowed,” Margaret Thatcher interjected. “There are laws against this. It is illegal for them to call politically motivated strikes — we banned them! This is totally unacceptable, for them to consider such a thing at a time of crisis is quite appalling. We must put a stop to it, Enoch.” The Prime Minister listened quietly, and nodded towards Neave.

“The legality of it is irrelevant,” Neave said. “They mean to bring us down, and to them any threats we may make will be irrelevant. They do not foresee us being in government after such in action, therefore no threats of future consequences will carry any weight. I've no doubt that Tony Benn will let it be known that he would pardon any strikers were they successful.”

“We really don't need that do we?” said Alan Clark. “Can't we get rid of him?”

“The opposition is a vital part of a democratic system,” Powell wheezed. “We all require someone to question our actions; none of us are infallible.” To the side of him Neave smiled cheekily, and Clark suppressed a snigger.

Neave continued. “Obviously any comments made by Benn that risk encouraging strike action will not be disseminated in the press — there is no reason to encourage such behaviour. It is however unlikely to be enough to stop any action.”

“But we need to, Airey,” Thatcher said, leaning across the table. “Look at this,” Thatcher nudged Tebbit and he laid a document on the table. “These are the opinion polls — not for publication of course — support for Merlyn Rees' Labour Party has totally evaporated. If anything were to happen to us then there would be no one but Benn — a communist! Pure and simple!” The room fell silent.

“Can we stop it?” Clark said finally.

“It seems the only sensible thing to do,” Neave said. “Given our lack of manpower we should first attempt to stop it before it begins.”

“What are their demands likely to be?” Jenkin asked.

“We can't negotiate with these people!” Thatcher barked and Jenkin winced as if in pain. “These are the enemy. They're not looking for better conditions or more money. They want us out! They are no better than the terrorists.”

“Obviously,” Neave interjected, attempting to regain control of the meeting, “obviously the ideal solution is prevent the strike happening in the first place. The aims of the strikers leave no room for negotiation and since they are already acting outside the law no variety of legal sanction will have effect.”

“Then we need to tackle it head on,” Thatcher said.

“Sir Michael Hanley has told me that it would be possible to arrest the Union leaders involved prior to the beginning of strike action.”

“Surely it would only provoke them further,” Jenkin said, shaking his head.

“Provoke them further?” Thatcher said, her voice setting Jenkin's teeth on edge. “They are trying to bring us down, Patrick.” Jenkin shook his head, and wondered why they had bothered inviting him.

“It won't work,” he said finally. “They don't need their leaders to strike.”

“Under normal circumstances,” Tebbit said. “But if we take out their leaders and regional officials how will they organise it? The media won't report it — we can stop any attempts to organise it through phone or mail — it can and will be intercepted.” Jenkin shook his head again in despair, but didn't speak again.

“And if it does happen?” the Prime Minister said calmly to Neave.

“We break it,” Neave said. “Call up any further reserves we can, pull the last British troops out of Germany and force them back to work at gunpoint if necessary.”

From I.Janis “Groupthink: Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascos” (3rd ed. Houghton, Boston, 1988)

Groupthink: Psychological Studies of Policy Decisions and Fiascos

The diaries and court depositions of the members of Powell's inner cabinet, while in certain specifics of dubious reliability, in addition to the cabinet minutes which were declassified for the inquests do allow us to draw conclusions about the nature of the decision making process under Powell. Certainly the decisions made by Powell's inner cabinet in response to the threatened strike action seem to show classic symptoms of groupthink.

There is little doubt that the participants held themselves to be inherently morally superior to the union leaders and the refusal of the cabinet to consider approaching the unions to seek negotiations or compromise is a classic example of the stereotyping of out-groups as evil and unworthy of compromise.

The cabinet's initial attempt to avert strike action by arresting the union leadership was doomed to failure, and it is only through the illusion of invulnerability typical with groupthink and the underestimating of the ability of out-groupers to react to the groups actions that such a course of action can be understood.

The pressure placed upon dissenters is highlighted by the account of Patrick Jenkin, an out-grouper brought in to assist the inner cabinet on the employment portfolio. Jenkin describes being shouted down after any suggestion of negotiating or making contact with the unions, or any attempt to question the consensus decision of the group. Specifically Powell's Home Secretary, Margaret Thatcher, served as a mind-guard against alternative views to the consensus by bullying those who expressed divergent opinions within cabinet meetings — instances of which arise in many accounts from the members of Powell's cabinets.

5th March 1980 — East Lothian, 3.00 am

Mick McGahey turned over in his bed, mumbling in his sleep. Outside in the street a dog barked as a van drew to a halt in the deserted street outside. Then slamming doors and the stamp of boots.

McGahey coughed as he struggled to breath though lungs clogged with forty years of coal dust before settling back into deep sleep. Then there was a sudden smash and McGahey jerked awake — his door was being battered down, and there were people and shouts and...

“Police! Police!” Before he knew it there were four men in McGahey's bedroom and he was looking down the barrels of four guns.

“Michael McGahey?”

“Yes,” said the President of the NUM, hurriedly grabbing clothes from the floor.

“We are arresting you on suspicion of acting in manner that could reasonably be seen to aid or abet the conduction of terrorist offences. This is an offence covered under the 1977 Terrorism Act and if you refuse to answer questions put to you in this regard you may be charged with further offences. Do you understand?”

“What's going on boys? You know I haven't done anything.”

“Will you come with us please sir, quietly please.”

McGahey pulled his shirt from the previous day back over his barrel chest. “You don't have to do this, you don't have to follow their orders, you know? All this is about to change.”

“Quickly please sir.”

“Listen, do I get to make my phone call?”

“Not this time sir.”

“Modern British History 1945-1997” by Norman Howe (MacMillan 1998)

Modern British History 1945-1997

The imposition of further sanctions by the USA caused a further collapse on the London stock market. With increasing public disorder, the economy in rapid decline and international pressure growing against Powell, the trade unions' leadership believed that the Powell government was vulnerable as never before.

The Trade Unions had never forgiven Powell for starving them into submission at the end of the 1976-77 General Strike. By March 1980 support for Powell's Government was fading and the security forces were struggling to maintain control of the country in the face of terrorist attacks and widespread violence protest on the streets. Combined with the continuing military occupation of the northern part of the Republic of Ireland the Trade Unions thought it unlikely that the Government would have the will or the manpower resist another General Strike.

The Government's reaction was to attempt to pre-empt the strike by arresting Union leaders en masse on the morning of March 5th. This decision is widely considered to be a huge error, a mistake that did nothing to prevent strike action but tightened the resolve of normal union members to bring down the Powell Government. Some historians have, however, argued that the effects of the decision were not as negative as commonly believed. They argue that the ill-feeling created by the 1977 general strike was so strong that the trade unions were already irreversibly opposed to Powell's government and it would be impossible to further damage relations, and while the detention of the unions leaders did not prevent strike action, it did hinder the organisation of the strike at a national level.

From “An Unhappy Juncture: The Powell Government” by Anthony Selsdon (HarperCollins, 1988)

An Unhappy Juncture: The Powell Government

Despite the arrest of the Union Leaders the general strike commenced in Barnsley on the 6th March when the miners left the pits. Union officials who had escaped the authorities rapidly spread the word throughout the country. In many areas initially unconnected strikes broke out as a result of the discovery that regional union representatives had been arrested. In contrast to the earlier strike, by the 8th March the general strike was almost universal and Powell's government was faced with imminent shortages of power, petrol and food.

The arrest of the union leadership was a disastrous misjudgement by Powell's Government. Without leadership there was no central authority for Powell's government to negotiate with, or to call off the strike. The arrest of the Unions' leaders had only served to transform what would have been a grudge match by the union leaders into a genuinely popular movement against the Powell government.

During the 9th March panic buying stripped shops of food and bottled water, and in some areas striking workers began picketing distribution depots, ports and water treatment plants. Powell began to draw troops out of the Republic of Ireland to start manning essential services, and in particular to secure Britain's nuclear power plants. The lack of any national or regional organisation for the strike meant that in some areas troops were able to take control of installations without protest, in other areas they met with large scale union opposition. While pickets allowed troops to take over Windscale in order to prevent a nuclear incident, troops arriving at many non-nuclear power plants and other essential services found their passage blocked by union pickets numbering many hundreds of strikers.

It was clear that the armed forces would not be able to take control of essential installations without major loss of civilian life...

Part 21
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