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Who became Britain's first Prime Minister on 3 April 1721? When was Karl Marx born? Where and when was the first battle of the Wars of the Roses? When did Big Ben first bong? When did the first British woman cast her vote? (Clue: It wasn't 1918.) Find the answers to these questions and many more in this landmark political history. From the first meeting of an elected English parliament on 20 January 1265 to the tabling of the Bill of Rights on 13 February 1689; from the Peterloo massacre of 16 August 1819 to Britain voting to leave the EU on 23 June 2016, there is a growing thirst for knowledge about the history of our constitutional settlement, our party system and how our parliamentary democracy has developed. Writing as an observer of political history, but also as someone with an opinion, acclaimed political broadcaster Iain Dale charts the main events of the last few hundred years, with one event per page, per day. 'The indefatigable Iain Dale always cuts to the nub of politics.' Adam Boulton
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Iain Dale is an accomplished broadcaster, presenting his own daily radio show on LBC, and several podcasts, including For the Many and Iain Dale All Talk. He is a regular on Question Time, Newsnight, Good Morning Britain, Politics Live and a columnist for the Telegraph. He is the author/editor of more than 40 books, most recently The Presidents and The Prime Ministers. He lives in Tunbridge Wells and Norfolk. He can be found @iaindale on social media.
Also by Iain Dale
Why Can’t We All Just Get Along
Prime Minister Priti & Other Things That Never Happened
The Prime Ministers 1721–2022
The Presidents 1789–2022
Kings and Queens
British General Election Campaigns 1830–2019
The Dictators
Published in hardback in Great Britain in 2022 by
Allen & Unwin, an imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd.
This paperback edition published in 2024 by Allen & Unwin.
Copyright © Iain Dale, 2022
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Chapter head illustrations by Carmen R. Balit
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Foreword
January
February
March
April
May
June
July
August
September
October
November
December
Acknowledgements
Index
This book is dedicated to the memory of Sir David Amess MP
When Prime Minister Harold Macmillan was asked by a journalist what his greatest challenges were, his reply was very simple. ‘Events, dear boy, events’. It’s an answer that any of our fifty-five prime ministers could have given, for it summed up how politicians can be blown completely off course by events. Or their names and reputations can be made or lost by a single event that they could never have anticipated. Boris Johnson expected to be the Brexit prime minister, the man who triumphantly took us out of the European Union. Instead, his legacy will probably be defined by his response to the Covid-19 pandemic, or the war in Ukraine. Events, dear boy, events.
Back in the late 1980s I bought a book in Foyles called A Chronology of Post-War British Politics, by political academic Geoffrey Foote. It listed all the main events in British politics day by day, month by month from 1945 until June 1987. I was flicking through it and started thinking about key dates in British politics prior to 1945. I started jotting down some examples, like the foundation of what many people view as the first English Parliament in 1265, the day in 1809 that Spencer Perceval became the first (and only) British prime minister to be assassinated, the day in 1707 when the Act of Union between England and Scotland was proclaimed. And so I went on. Within an hour I had a list of around thirty key events written down, and I realized how little I knew about most of them. I then did a quick Google search and to my absolute astonishment no one had ever written a book called ‘On This Day in Politics’. Dan Snow was about to publish one called On This Day in History, but surprisingly no one had collated all the key political events in our political history in one handy volume.
I then started a spreadsheet and started to allocate particular events to dates. It was like putting together a jigsaw. On some days there were five or six events to choose from different years in history. For others not so much. Indeed, for some days, I really had to scratch around to find anything notable that had happened on that particular day in British political history, but even then, I always discovered something I hadn’t known about before. For example, 28 December proved to be such a day. I eventually discovered that Britain’s first national park, the Peak District, was declared that day in 1950. Obviously, we all know that the 1945–51 Labour government was famous for creating the NHS, nationalizations and giving India its independence. How many of us know that it also created the national parks programme? I certainly didn’t, and was oblivious to the fact that the idea had been around since the 1880s. You will find little nuggets like that littered throughout this book. I’ve tried to cover all the main events we all know about, and to provide an introduction to some of our most interesting politicians down the centuries.
Each event is covered on a single page in around 365 words – 365 events, 365 pages, 365 words on each. Well, actually, that’s a bit of a lie, as it would have been invidious to ignore events on 29 February, so it’s actually 366 days.
When planning this book I was conscious that I needed to achieve a balance. That meant not just including events we are all familiar with that occurred in the last two or three decades, but also including events from the early 1900s, the 1800s and even before. When I counted up the entries, there are thirty-one entries before 1800 and forty in the nineteenth century itself. The most entries for any particular year is eight, in 1990, the year of Margaret Thatcher’s defenestration and the first Gulf War. There are seven in 1963, 1967 and 1981. Since World War II there are only four years in which there are no entries in this book – 1953, 1959, 2004 and 2006.
I also thought it would be interesting to see if there was an equal share of events for the seven days of the week. There wasn’t. Unsurprisingly, the fewest entries are on Saturdays (thirty-five) and Sundays (twenty-nine). Forty-two events took place on Mondays, and Tuesday proved to be the most eventful day with seventy-three events, just ahead of Thursdays with seventy-one. On Wednesdays there were fifty-six events and Friday sixty.
This book is not meant to encompass a complete political history of the last thousand, or even two hundred years. What I hope it achieves is for your interest in different subjects to be piqued, and to encourage you to read more widely about events that I can only briefly describe. My original intent was for this book to be primarily aimed at people with a mild but not obsessive interest in current affairs and our political history. However, it soon became clear that it ought to appeal to political geeks too. People like me. When I started writing, I imagined that I would be able to write about a third of the entries off the top of my head, with no research. That proved not to be the case. In the end, I probably only wrote about ten of the entries straight off the bat. I discovered things I didn’t know even when writing about contemporary events with which I am very familiar.
I would like to thank the following friends and colleagues who helped in the research and drafting process for this book. Catriona Beck, Mark Fox, Corey Froggatt, Robbie Hawkins, Mathew Hulbert, Sarah Mackinlay and Jakub Szweda have gone way beyond the call of duty, but I must make particular mention also of Noah Keate and Robert Waller.
Noah is a politics student and a devout listener to my For the Many podcast, and has spent hours and hours helping me with both the research and drafting of many of the entries you have read. I honestly could not have delivered this book on time without him. He has a fine future ahead of him in the political and journalism world.
I first got to know Robert Waller around twenty years ago when I was running Politicos Bookstore in Westminster. He was the inventor and co-editor of the Almanac of British Politics. As a History and Politics teacher, his intimate knowledge of British history and politics is, I think, unsurpassed. He has corrected many errors, as well as contributed to the drafting of many of the political stories and events mentioned in the book. He has contributed to my books The Prime Ministers and The Presidents, and I could not be more grateful for his work in assisting me with On This Day.
Inevitably, there will be a few factual errors, which the eagle-eyed among you will spot, and I take full responsibility. Please do email me and let me know, so corrections can be made for reprints or the paperback edition. [email protected].
Iain Dale
Tunbridge Wells, June 2022
Monday, 1 January 1973
Today, Britain became a member of the European Economic Community (EEC), as it was then called, after two previous attempts to join the Common Market, in 1963 and 1967, were vetoed by the French President, Charles de Gaulle.
The Conservative Party’s 1970 manifesto stated that ‘it would be in the long-term interest of the British people for Britain to join the European Economic Community,’ making it one of their key pledges.
Edward Heath, the then prime minister and behind the accession, described the decision to join the bloc as ‘very moving’ and at an EEC entry celebration banquet said: ‘What we are building is a community, whose scope will gradually extend until it virtually covers the whole field of collective human endeavour.’
Harold Wilson, who was the Leader of the Opposition at the time, criticized the conditions agreed by Heath as ‘utterly crippling’ and said that the decision to join the EEC was done without the support of the British people.
Almost a year earlier, on 22 January 1972, Edward Heath signed the Treaty of Accession in Brussels which officially triggered the process of joining the community. It meant Britain was able to join the original six member states, along with Denmark and Ireland.
Both Denmark and Ireland held referendums in 1972. Norway, which was also due to join, didn’t ratify the treaty after the government didn’t achieve the support in a referendum for the country’s accession.
From the original four countries, Britain was the only one not to put the decision to a referendum prior to January 1973. A referendum did take place a couple of years later, in 1975, under the Labour government.
The European Communities Bill was introduced to the House of Commons, debated for around three hundred hours and received the Royal Assent in October 1972. Heath’s attempt to get the Bill approved relied on gaining enough support from Labour MPs to balance out the Conservative MPs against it.
Heath’s decision to join the Common Market is seen by many as the most prominent achievement during his time as prime minister.
Friday, 2 January 1807
The practice of slavery was perhaps the biggest stain on the British Empire. The Slave Trade Act of 1807 prohibited the trade in slaves, but it did not outlaw slavery itself. At the time, this was considered one step too far. That came twenty-six years later. It should be noted that slavery was never legal in Britain itself, but was common in many parts of the empire.
In the twenty years prior to the Act, more than 700,000 slaves had been transported on British ships across the Atlantic. It was one of Britain’s most profitable trading activities. In 1787, the Committee for the Abolition of the Slave Trade was formed, and a little-known MP called William Wilberforce led the growing opposition to the trade in Parliament. In the same year, Wilberforce wrote in his diary: ‘God Almighty has set before me two great objects, the suppression of the slave trade and the reformation of manners.’
There were various attempts during the 1790s to introduce legislation aimed at outlawing the slave trade, but they foundered in the House of Lords. In addition, Henry Dundas, the leading Scottish MP and close adviser to the Prime Minister, William Pitt, persistently attempted to water down any resolutions designed to lead to outright abolition. He maintained that a gradualist approach would be better, but the suspicion remained that his amendments were designed to wreck the whole project.
The Slave Trade Bill was introduced into the House of Lords on 2 January 1807 by the Prime Minister, Lord Grenville. Hopes were high that it would pass through both Houses unimpeded, especially given that there were now a hundred new Irish MPs, who mostly supported abolition. On 23 February, it passed its second reading by 283 votes to only 16. Royal Assent followed on 25 March and the Act came into force on 1 May.
Over the next sixty years, the Royal Navy intercepted 1,600 illegal slave ships and freed 150,000 slaves from Africa.
It wasn’t until 1833 that the slave trade was abolished completely in the British Empire.
Thursday, 3 January 1946
William Joyce was the last person to be hanged for treason in the UK. He had achieved notoriety as the voice of Lord Haw-Haw, who made regular propaganda broadcasts to Britain from Germany during the Second World War.
Joyce was born in New York in 1894 to an Irish father and English mother, but the family moved to Galway, Ireland, when he was a small child. In his teens, Joyce was recruited by the British Army as a courier during the lead-up to the war for independence, and he was known to associate with the Black and Tans. He then moved to England, entering the Officers’ Training Corps, while studying at Birkbeck College in London.
In the early 1930s, he became a key lieutenant of Oswald Mosley and was known for his powerful oratory. In 1934, he became director of propaganda for the British Union of Fascists and later became deputy leader. In 1937, he and Mosley fell out, and Mosley sacked him.
Joyce and his wife Margaret fled to Berlin just before the outbreak of war at the end of August 1939. He eventually secured a job at the ‘Rundfunkhaus’ scripting broadcasts for German Radio’s English Language service.
The name ‘Lord Haw-Haw’ was coined by Daily Express radio critic Jonah Barrington. Joyce’s broadcasts were listened to by millions in Britain and always began with the words ‘Germany calling, Germany calling, Germany calling’. He constantly urged Britain to surrender and adopted a sarcastic tone whenever talking about British politicians.
The broadcasts continued throughout the war, but listenership declined. His final broadcast came on 30 April 1945, when he appeared audibly intoxicated. Twenty-eight days later he was captured by the British Army at Flensburg, near the Danish border. Due to a misunderstanding he was shot four times in the buttocks.
At the Old Bailey he faced three charges of high treason, to which he pleaded ‘not guilty’. He was cleared of two charges but found guilty of the third. An appeal, on the basis he was an Irish citizen rather than a British subject, failed and he was sentenced to hang.
Sunday, 4 January 1948
After sixty-three years of British rule, Burma became independent in the first days of 1948. By the end of British rule, the country was in a terrible state both economically and politically, with plans to rebuild the crown colony dropped and replaced with independence talks. After the end of World War II, Burma was seen by the Clement Attlee government as less and less valuable.
The crown colony had been invaded by Japan in 1942 and was liberated by Britain with the help of the Anti-Fascist People’s Freedom League (AFPFL), led by General Aung San in 1945. The General was a key Burmese political figure and seen by many as the father of the country’s independence. He was also the father of Aung San Suu Kyi, the Nobel peace prize winner and later Burma’s civil leader.
Aung San began to negotiate with Britain terms of the country’s independence, which led to the signing of the Aung San–Attlee Agreement on 27 January 1947, almost a year before the official handover took place. Clement Attlee told Parliament the following day that ‘Burma has suffered greatly in the war. Great steps have been made in rebuilding her shattered economy. It will now be for her own people, her own Government, to complete that process and build a new Burma.’
It was agreed under the terms of the treaty that the country would hold an election, which took place in April 1947, and Aung San’s AFPFL party won a significant majority, effectively becoming the ruling party of the country and a government in waiting.
Only months later, General Aung San and six other members of his party were assassinated, with the former Prime Minister of British Burma, and a political rival, U Saw, held responsible for planning the killings. The assassination threw Burma’s already fragile political system into chaos in the lead-up to its independence. Without clear leadership, other political groups began to challenge the AFPFL and the country was plunged into a state of unrest, with a civil war ensuing shortly after. The consequences of those events impacted the country’s future for years to come and they still do today.
Sunday, 5 January 2003
Roy Jenkins can lay claim to be one of the most important political figures of the second half of the twentieth century, yet he never achieved his dream of becoming prime minister.
The son of a South Wales miner, Jenkins quickly escaped his working-class roots and gained a reputation as a red wine loving, priapic bon viveur. He became an intelligence officer during World War II, and first entered parliament at the age of twenty-eight in a by-election in Southwark Central in 1948.
It was as Home Secretary in the 1960s that he set down his greatest achievements, all in the area of social reform. He stood accused of initiating the ‘permissive society’ by legalizing abortion, reforming the divorce laws, decriminalizing homosexuality, abolishing the death penalty, reforming the laws on theatre censorship, and liberalizing immigration laws and the laws on betting and licensing. Each reform has stood the test of time. In 1967, he replaced James Callaghan as Chancellor following the devaluation of the pound.
But it was joining the European Economic Community (EEC) which was both to dominate his political priorities and to become the issue which thwarted his leadership ambitions. In 1960, he resigned from the front bench to campaign for EEC membership, and in April 1972 he resigned from the shadow cabinet and as Deputy Leader after Labour committed itself to a referendum on the issue. Although he stood for the leadership in March 1976 when Wilson resigned, he came a poor third. Callaghan refused him the Foreign Office, and in 1977 Jenkins resigned his Birmingham Stechford seat and spent four years as the President of the European Commission in Brussels.
In March 1981, Roy Jenkins formed the Social Democratic Party (SDP) with three other former Labour cabinet ministers. He led the party for two years. They never achieved the much vaunted ‘breaking of the mould’ of British politics, and in 1989 merged with the Liberal Party. Jenkins remained a figure of influence and chaired a commission on electoral reform for Tony Blair.
A prolific and talented author, he wrote nineteen books, including acclaimed biographies of Gladstone, Baldwin, Attlee, Dilke, Rosebery and Churchill.
Monday, 6 January 1986
‘I may not be Prime Minister by six o’clock if it all goes badly.’ So said Margaret Thatcher to her speechwriter, Ronald Millar, hours before addressing the Commons in a censure debate on the Westland affair on 27 January 1986. Labour leader Neil Kinnock came to her rescue with a dire performance and she lived to fight another day. I was working in the Commons that day and remember saying to a colleague: ‘Things will never be quite the same again.’ The events of January 1986 sowed the seeds of her eventual fall from power nearly five years later.
The Westland affair became a crisis because two cabinet ministers disagreed about who should take over a West Country helicopter manufacturer. Trade and Industry Secretary Leon Brittan, a key Thatcher ally, sided with the American company Sikorsky, while Defence Secretary Michael Heseltine wanted a European consortium to prevail. The two cabinet ministers went to war.
The crisis deepened on Monday, 6 January when a letter from the Solicitor General to him, accusing him of ‘material inaccuracies’ in his version of events, found its way into the public domain. He accused Leon Brittan’s allies of deliberately leaking it. Three days later, as Heseltine walked into the cabinet room, his dander was up. The Lady, however, was not for turning. The Prime Minister told her cabinet that in future all pronouncements by ministers on the Westland crisis must be cleared by the Cabinet Office. The Defence Secretary maintained that this should not apply to simply confirming previous utterances. He wasn’t in the mood to compromise, but not a single cabinet minister supported him. As Margaret Thatcher completed her summing up, Heseltine gathered up his papers, rose and said: ‘I can no longer be a member of this cabinet.’ He walked out into Downing Street to declare to the waiting cameras that he had resigned.
A few months prior to these events, I had been told at a dinner party that Michael Heseltine was looking for an excuse to resign. Well, if that was true, he certainly found it.
Saturday, 7 January 1922
At 2 a.m. on 6 December 1921, the British Prime Minister, David Lloyd George, met Irish republican leaders Michael Collins and Arthur Griffith in the Downing Street Cabinet Room to agree the terms of a treaty to bring an end to the so-called Irish War of Independence. Negotiations had been going on since October.
Under the Treaty, Ireland would become a self-governing Dominion of the British Empire, like Canada, Australia and New Zealand. The Irish Free State would be created but Northern Ireland would be allowed to secede from it within one month. The King would be the head of state and Britain would still control several ports for the Royal Navy to operate from. The Treaty would have superior status in Irish law and the Irish Free State would take on a proportion of UK debt.
The status of the Irish negotiators was hotly contested within the nationalist movement. The Irish President, de Valera, had instructed them to refer any agreement back to the cabinet for ratification. Instead, the negotiating team decided they had a free hand to reach an agreement on terms they saw fit. This was to have tragic consequences.
Upon agreeing terms, Lord Birkenhead reportedly remarked to Michael Collins: ‘In signing this treaty I am signing my political death warrant.’ Collins retorted: ‘I’m signing my actual death warrant.’
On 8 December, de Valera called a cabinet meeting in which he made clear his opposition to the draft treaty. However, he was outvoted by four votes to three. The two main issues were Dominion status and partition.
The House of Commons approved the Treaty on 16 December by 401 votes to 58. The debate in the Dáil started on 14 December but much of the initial debate was held behind closed doors. On 7 January, Dáil Éireann ratified the Treaty by 64 to 57 votes. Two days later de Valera resigned as president and was replaced by Arthur Griffith.
The divisions sparked the Irish Civil War in June 1922. On 22 August, Michael Collins was killed in an ambush. On 6 December 1922, the Irish Free State formally came into existence.
Sunday, 8 January 1832
It is the irony of ironies that Britain’s first non-white MP also happened to be a slave owner, and an unrepentant one at that. John Stewart was the illegitimate son of plantation owner John Stewart Sr – who had also briefly been a Tory MP for Camelford for a few months in 1819, but had been disqualified from office over bribery and corruption – and Mary Duncan, who is believed to have been black or mixed race.
Stewart was born in the West Indies in 1789, on the Demerara Plantation in British Guiana. Little is known about his upbringing, education or pre-parliamentary life, although we do know he was the main beneficiary of his father’s will when he died in 1826.
In 1832, Stewart set his sights on standing for Parliament in Lymington and skilfully won over the local newspapers and opinion formers. In the 1832 election campaign, Stewart had to defend his use of slaves and denied there was any exploitation or cruelty on his estates. The next year, he spoke on the issue in the Commons and presented a petition against the freeing of slaves in the colonies. In 1836, he maintained that despite owning the largest slave estate in Antigua it had been unprofitable until he received compensation money from the British government. When slavery was abolished, he received more than £22,400 in compensation for the loss of 433 slaves in Demerara alone. He consistently defended slavery and voted against any measures enhancing the freedom of slaves.
Stewart’s ethnicity did not seem to be an issue either in Lymington or Parliament. It was only after he left Parliament that he was described as a ‘man of colour’ and the first ‘coloured’ Member of Parliament.
Despite his maverick voting record, he gradually became a supporter of Peel’s Conservative leadership, especially on the issue of the Corn Laws.
In 1847, his parliamentary career came to an end, when he came third in Lymington, and he took no further part in political life. He died in 1860 at the age of seventy-one.
Wednesday, 9 January 1799
Britain’s war with revolutionary France in the 1790s increased significantly the amount of money spent on the Army, resulting in a desperate need to find additional funding. In the early years of his premiership, William Pitt the Younger introduced a number of financial reforms, which although they increased the annual government revenue, weren’t enough to match the government’s drastically rising expenditure.
Britain’s first income tax, which came into force on 9 January 1799, resulted in the introduction of a levy on incomes over £60 per annum, with a fixed rate for incomes over £200 and a graduated tax on incomes between £60 and £200. The expectation was that this would increase revenues by around £10 million, but in the end only around £6 million was raised.
It was seen as a temporary measure, and its unpopularity resulted in income tax being repealed in 1802. It was then reintroduced in 1803 and repealed again in 1816, a year after the Battle of Waterloo. It became ‘permanent’ in 1842. Some of the opposition to income tax at the time arose because it was regarded as being too intrusive, and that the government shouldn’t be looking into how much people earned.
Pitt the Younger was elected to Parliament at the age of twenty-one and became Chancellor of the Exchequer for the first time only a year later. He was the Prime Minister of Great Britain from December 1783 to March 1801, and then again from May 1804 until his death in January 1806. His ideas and policies were heavily influenced by the Scottish economic thinker Adam Smith.
Economic policies which attempted to increase revenue played a key role during his premiership. Other forms of taxation were also introduced on goods and services, affecting the more well-off citizens. The Window Tax was tripled in 1797, primarily because it was seen as much harder to evade, although it did result in people either bricking or boarding up their windows. He reduced government spending. He also reduced high duties/tariffs in an attempt to deter smuggling, which was seen by him as a key issue.
Thursday, 10 January 1957
It was one of the quickest transfers of power in the history of British politics. The day before, Sir Anthony Eden had submitted his resignation to the young Queen. Following the failed Suez escapade, his mental and physical health had deteriorated to such an extent that he felt unable to carry on. He immediately left the country to recuperate in the West Indies.
In those days there was no leadership election as such. Soundings were taken by party elders and a new leader ‘emerged’. Lord Salisbury, known as ‘Bobbety’, called in the cabinet one by one to seek their views and asked: ‘Is it “Rab” or Harold?’, although given he couldn’t pronounce his ‘r’s it came out as ‘Is it Wab or Hawold?’. Hawold it was, as R. A. Butler’s views on Suez were thought likely to split the party. Butler was also passed over for the leadership in 1963 and, along with Ken Clarke, became a nearly man of Conservative politics.
At the time, Harold Macmillan was very much a rising star, although at the age of sixty-two he was hardly inexperienced. During the war he had served as Minister for the Mediterranean, and in 1951 he joined Churchill’s cabinet as Housing minister, setting an ambitious aim of building 300,000 houses a year. He was promoted to Defence Secretary in 1954, but when Eden took over as prime minister he went to the Foreign Office and six months later was reshuffled to the Treasury.
The fact that Macmillan was able to escape his strong backing for Eden over Suez, and almost make out he hadn’t been in favour afterwards, says a lot about his wiliness and political nous.
Macmillan’s immediate task on entering Downing Street was to repair relationships, particularly with the United States and the United Nations.
He is most remembered for his anti-apartheid ‘Wind of Change’ speech in South Africa in 1960 and his role in negotiating the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty following the Cuban Missile crisis. He resigned in October 1963 due to ill health. In 1984, he was created Earl of Stockton and he died two years later.
Tuesday, 11 January 1938
When discussing Arthur Scargill with millennial friends recently, not one of them knew who he was. That a man who was at one point amongst the most recognizable faces in Britain has now faded from historic memory, says a great deal about the role the union he led now plays in society.
Born on 11 January 1938 to a mining family, Arthur Scargill went on to lead the National Union of Mineworkers for more than twenty years. When he became president, in 1981, the union represented close to 200,000 members. In 2015, the membership stood at a measly 150.
Without doubt, Scargill’s great impact on British life and politics came through his leadership in the 1984–85 miners’ strike. The unsuccessful strike action in response to plans to close twenty-three pits, which ended on 3 March 1985, and for which many blamed Scargill, was a central moment in British political history.
For many, the strike came at the wrong time, on the wrong issue, with the wrong tactics. The failure to hold a national ballot alienated many of the Nottinghamshire miners and damaged the union’s reputation and support, amongst both the trade union movement and in British public opinion more broadly.
Scargill claimed the plans to close were part of a long-term government strategy to destroy the industry. That this was confirmed to be correct in 2014 does little to change the ultimate conclusion.
It wasn’t just a defeat for Scargill and the miners. It was also the moment the Thatcher government wrested back control from the unions – ten years after strike action toppled the Heath administration.
A hero to some, a maverick who hastened the closure of the mines to others, Arthur Scargill’s fading from the public memory mirrors that of the outdated politics he represented. His establishment of the Socialist Labour Party in 1996, following Tony Blair’s dropping of Clause 4, was a last-gasp attempt for Marxist principles, and Scargill himself, to remain relevant in British life. Its total lack of electoral success further displays Arthur Scargill’s ultimate failure.
Friday, 12 January 1906
The election of 1906 resulted in a landslide for the Liberal Party on the scale of Clement Attlee’s victory in 1945 and Margaret Thatcher’s in 1983. It heralded the end of eleven years of Conservative hegemony and the beginnings of a nascent welfare state. For the next ten years the Liberals ruled under three different prime ministers – Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, H. H. Asquith and David Lloyd George.
On 5 December, Arthur Balfour resigned, his Conservative/Liberal Unionist government having become so riven by splits over tariff reform, the Boer War, licensing and schools that it was struggling to govern at all. His plan was to let the Liberals take over on the assumption they would split, call an election and he would triumphantly return to power. It didn’t work out like that. As soon as Liberal leader Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman kissed hands with King Edward VII, he called an immediate general election for 12 January.
Prior to the election an electoral pact had been negotiated by Herbert Gladstone and Labour’s Ramsay MacDonald. In thirty-one of the seats Labour fought, the Liberals did not put up a candidate, in order to maximize the anti-Conservative vote. Twenty-four of the twenty-nine Labour MPs who won were in these seats. It was something the Liberals lived to regret in the long term, given that within twenty years they had been totally usurped by Labour.
When the results of the election were announced, Arthur Balfour had lost his Manchester East seat after a 22.5 per cent swing to the Liberals. It is one of the few times a former prime minister and Leader of the Opposition has lost his seat. Only three former Conservative cabinet ministers managed to retain their seats.
In the end the Liberals won 397 seats to the Conservatives’ 156, a majority of 241. Campbell-Bannerman appointed H. H. Asquith to the Treasury, Herbert Gladstone to the Home Office and Sir Edward Grey to the Foreign Office. Lloyd George became President of the Board of Trade.
It was to be one of most significant and reforming governments of the twentieth century. The shame was that within two years Campbell-Bannerman was dead. He doesn’t get the credit he deserves.
Friday, 13 January 1893
Until the latter part of the nineteenth century, the Liberal Party was considered the party most friendly to working-class interests. However, the Liberals, with their Whig imperialist past, flattered to deceive. With trade unions gaining in influence and popularity, the Labour Representation League was formed in 1869, designed to advance the cause of the working man within the Liberal Party and to mobilize them to vote in elections. The Fabian Society, formed in 1884, had the same aims, albeit from an intellectual viewpoint. However, as ever within the so-called intellectual Marxist left, there were some big fallings-out, as the purists thought the working-class struggle would inevitably prevail without any cooperation with ‘bourgeois’ political parties, like the Liberals.
In the 1892 general election, three independent candidates were elected, including Keir Hardie, with the support of the Liberal Party. It was a prelude to signing its own death warrant.
In January of the following year, at a conference called by the Trades Union Congress in Bradford, a motion was passed to form what came to be called the Independent Labour Party (ILP). It represented a coming together of the left. Those present included Karl Marx’s son-in-law Edward Aveling, George Bernard Shaw and dockers’ leader Ben Tillett. Keir Hardie gave the keynote speech of the conference.
The stated aim of the new party was ‘to secure the collective and communal ownership of the means of production, distribution and exchange’. It called for massive social reforms, a major housebuilding programme and benefits for the unemployed, an eight-hour working day and the abolition of overtime.
The party’s formative years didn’t match the expectations or hopes of its founders. Only twenty-eight candidates were put up in the 1895 general election. None were elected. Even the party leader, Keir Hardie, lost his seat.
In 1900, the Labour Representation Committee was formed, with the founding of the Labour Party taking place six years later. The ILP immediately affiliated to it, and although over the years it proved to be a thorn in the Labour Party’s side, many Labour MPs in the 1920s and 1930s came from its ranks. In 1975, it was renamed Independent Labour Publications.
Monday, 14 January 1963
In January 1963, following months of intensive negotiations in both capitals and Brussels, President Charles de Gaulle of France announced his opposition to Britain’s intention to join the European Economic Community (EEC). Although meetings continued for some days, soon after all member states had to halt the negotiations with Britain.
At a press conference, he raised his concerns, suggesting that Britain would want to ‘impose its own conditions’ on the members of the bloc and undermine its cohesion. De Gaulle was worried about Britain’s ‘special relationship’ with the United States and who the UK would side with if another conflict was to arise. He also opposed Britain’s failure to commit to leaving its Commonwealth ties behind.
On the other hand, Britain joining the EEC would potentially weaken France’s influence, something de Gaulle viewed with horror. It was his aim to ensure that France would continue to lead the project and nothing would be done to undermine that. His suspicions about the United States would only worsen, if Britain was to become a member.
During the negotiations, Prime Minister Harold Macmillan and his government came up with a number of conditions as part of the application, to protect and preserve Britain’s relations with Commonwealth countries. The government also attempted to preserve its role as a bridge between the US and mainland Europe. Concerns were raised across Britain’s political parties around the impact of joining the bloc, and how it would affect the country’s political and economic relations with other nations. However, joining the European community was an attempt by Macmillan to boost the ailing UK economy and matched his belief that Britain’s future lay with continental Europe.
Macmillan was devastated by the decision to block Britain’s application and considered it a huge failure. He wrote in his diary that ‘all our policies at home and abroad are in ruins’ and that ‘the French always betray you in the end.’
Negotiations to join the EEC were resurrected under the Labour government and halted once again by a second veto from de Gaulle in 1967. Britain joined the EEC in 1973 under the premiership of Edward Heath.
Tuesday, 15 January 2019
Against all the predictions and all the odds, Theresa May had secured a Brexit deal with the European Union (EU) in December 2018. It was due to be ratified on 10 December, but it became clear that the government would be defeated if they put it to a vote. A so-called ‘meaningful vote’ was deferred to mid January. This was required under the terms of the European Union (Withdrawal) Act 2018, which said that any agreement with the EU had to be ratified by the House of Commons before it could be implemented.
On 9 January, the House of Commons commenced a five-day-long debate. On the final day, May declared: ‘This is the most significant vote that any of us will ever be part of in our political careers. After all the debate, all the disagreement, all the division, the time has now come for all of us in this house to make a decision. A decision that will define our country for decades to come.’
She might as well have saved her breath. The motion was defeated by 432 votes to 202. This was the biggest defeat for a government motion in parliamentary history. Rising to speak after the vote, Theresa May invited a vote of no confidence in her government, which opposition leader Jeremy Corbyn proceeded to table.
Theresa May now had three options left to her. Leave the EU with no deal; attempt to renegotiate the deal to make it more palatable; or hold a second referendum on leaving the EU.
Britain was supposed to leave the European Union on 29 March 2019. Two more ‘meaningful votes’ were held but May was defeated on each occasion. She found it impossible to renegotiate terms which would be acceptable to her party and on 24 May announced she would step down as prime minister. Her successor, Boris Johnson, after protracted parliamentary manoeuvres also failed to get a deal through. He called a general election, gained a majority of eighty and struck a deal with the EU on Christmas Eve 2019. Britain formally left the EU on 31 January 2020.
Tuesday, 16 January 1968
The Suez Canal was once described as ‘the jugular vein of the empire’. When it was opened in 1869 it transformed the journey from Britain to the Far East. It became such a strategic asset that only twelve years later Britain took control over Egypt and entered a joint administration agreement over the canal with France.
It was at this time that the British Empire was at its zenith. Britannia really did still rule the waves, and Britain was adding to its territories around the world with every passing decade. Queen Victoria was not only Empress of India but head of state for around a quarter of the world’s surface.
The first half of the twentieth century saw the empire’s importance diminish. Independence movements started to mushroom, and a new generation of British politicians started to reconcile themselves with the fact that something would need to change in the relationship between Britain and its colonies – India, in particular. And then the Second World War happened, and it changed everything, not least Britain’s financial strength and place in the world.
India gained full independence from Britain in 1947 and was quickly followed by Ceylon, Ghana, Jamaica, Kenya, Libya, Malaysia, Nigeria, Rhodesia, Sierra Leone, Singapore, Sudan, Tanzania, Uganda and Zambia. There was also a gradual drawdown of Britain’s military presence East of Suez.
In 1956, the Egyptian leader, President Nasser, nationalized the Suez Canal, provoking a military response from Britain and France. The military incursion failed and signalled the ‘end of empire’. Not only was it a massive embarrassment for Britain, but it gave succour to independence movements the world over.
On 16 January 1968, Prime Minister Harold Wilson made a speech announcing that all British military forces would be withdrawn within three years from British bases in South East Asia, including in Singapore, Malaysia, and in the Persian Gulf.
In 2014, the Cameron government announced the expansion of naval facilities in Bahrain. A logistics base was then established in Oman and naval deployments in the Far East are increasing to combat the military threat from China. East of Suez is back.
Friday, 17 January 1969
By the end of the 1960s ten million working days a year were being lost due to official and unofficial strike action. Pay rises were starting to fuel inflation. Harold Wilson’s ‘white heat of technology’ was threatening traditional jobs, and the trade unions, far from being the mainstay of the Labour government, appeared to be threatening its very existence.
Barbara Castle, Wilson’s Secretary of State for Employment and Productivity, was determined to change the relationship between the unions and the state.
She wanted unions to ballot their members before strike action and to replace the show of hands at mass meetings. She also wanted to create an Industrial Board, whose remit would be to enforce industrial agreements.
Castle had made her name as a woman of the left and she was no shrinking violet. Wilson and Castle had drafted the White Paper ‘In Place of Strife’ together and presented it to cabinet, but they had fatally misjudged the moment, and failed to build support within the cabinet and the Labour Party. By the standards of the Thatcher years, the reforms were fairly moderate.
The White Paper was published on 17 January, but it was never translated into legislation. Opposition in the cabinet – and there was a lot of it – was led by Home Secretary James Callaghan, who had never been a fan of Castle. When he became prime minister, in April 1976, the first thing he did was fire her from his cabinet.
‘In Place of Strife’ was finally killed off a few months later when an agreement was reached with the TUC. Well, more of a capitulation than an agreement, if truth be told. The unions were further emboldened and within four years had brought Edward Heath’s Conservative government to its knees.
The Labour government of 1974–79 appeared to be a coalition between the Labour Party and the trade unions. They had no government ministers but had immense influence and power over the government and weren’t afraid to use it, culminating in the Winter of Discontent. Had ‘In Place of Strife’ not been thwarted, it is entirely possible Margaret Thatcher may not have happened.
Wednesday, 18 January 1967
Jeremy Thorpe had it all – charisma; a top-class education; he’d married a beautiful and intelligent woman; and he’d developed a good reputation as a parliamentary performer. In the mid 1960s, the Liberals only had twelve MPs, and when Jo Grimond announced he was standing down, three of twelve put themselves forward to lead the Liberal rump – Emlyn Hooson, the victor of the 1962 Orpington by-election Eric Lubbock, and of course, Thorpe himself. The ballot of MPs ended with Thorpe gaining six votes, with Lubbock and Hooson on three each. They both withdrew leaving Jeremy Thorpe to embark on a nine-year stint as leader of Britain’s third party.
Thorpe had made his name at the bar and as a television journalist. He was telegenic and knew what the cameras wanted. Thorpe had won his North Devon seat by only 362 votes in 1959, having been selected as candidate in 1952 and fighting a losing battle in the 1955 election. He won it by a heady mixture of charisma and sheer hard work. Master of the witty and memorable one-liner, he memorably commented on Harold Macmillan’s 1963 ‘Night of the Long Knives’ reshuffle: ‘Greater Love hath no man than this, that he lay down his friends for his life.’ He again rose to prominence when Rhodesia declared independence from Britain and he advocated the UN bombing the main railway supply line into the country, thereby earning the nickname ‘Bomber Thorpe’.
Thorpe gave the Liberal Party a profile it hadn’t enjoyed since the days of Lloyd George. But the seeds of his eventual destruction were already being sowed. He enjoyed almost complete control of Liberal Party fundraising but there were justified suspicions that money was being siphoned off to pay for his own activities, not least dealing with the male model Norman Scott, who was trying to blackmail the new Liberal Leader.
In the February 1974 election, the Liberals won six million votes, but only fourteen seats. Three years later he was forced to resign the party leadership over the Norman Scott scandal. He was charged with conspiracy to murder but acquitted at the Old Bailey in 1979.
Saturday, 19 January 1963
John Bercow was a rarity among Speakers of the House of Commons in that he was the ultimate Marmite Speaker. People either think he was one of the greatest ever, reforming Speakers, or a self-preening, anti-Conservative, anti-Brexit narcissist.
Bercow was the hard right chairman of the Federation of Conservative Students at the University of Essex. At the same time, he was the secretary of the immigration and repatriation committee of the Monday Club.
He was elected to the House of Commons in 1997 and became a terrier-like backbench warrior, causing trouble for Tony Blair. And then he met his future wife, Sally, a committed Blairite Labour supporter. She knocked off his rougher political edges and he began a journey away from the hard right. He joined the Tory front bench but Bercow found working as a team player a bit of a challenge.
He was sacked twice from the shadow cabinet, once after rebelling against the party line on gay adoption. He then decided to succeed Michael Martin as Speaker, when the time came.
In May 2009, Martin was forced to resign in the turmoil of the MPs’ expenses scandal. Bercow won the Speakership on the second ballot, thanks to the overwhelming support of Labour MPs. He started a series of internal procedural reforms and authorized the building of a creche. He controversially allowed the Youth Parliament to sit in the House of Commons chamber.
Over time he started to be accused of breaching the traditional Speaker’s neutrality. He declared he was opposed to Brexit and told President Trump he was not welcome to address Parliament during a state visit. He then prevented the government from bringing its EU Withdrawal Agreement back for a third vote.
On 9 September 2019, after ten years in the Speaker’s chair and amid rows over Brexit, Bercow announced he would stand down at the end of October, the date the EU Withdrawal Agreement was due to come into force.
The Boris Johnson government refused to put him forward for a peerage in the light of bullying allegations that to this day remain unresolved.
Tuesday, 20 January 1265
Prior to the reign of King Henry III (1216–1272) the notion of a parliament, as we understand it today, did not exist. The early Saxon kings took counsel from a network of advisers, often referred to as the Witenagemot, and they lacked any formal structure. Only in the ninth and tenth centuries did these assembles take on any kind of institutional meaning. According to historian John Maddicott, the origins of an English Parliament can be traced back to the reign of Aethelstan, when he convened his Great Assemblies. Maddicott wrote: ‘These portentous gatherings were the lineal ancestors of the more brightly illuminated councils and parliaments of the post-Magna Carta world. From this time onwards the line joining the witan to the concilia and colloquia of Anglo-Norman and Angevin England, and thence to the parliaments of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, remained essentially unbroken.’
It wasn’t until the signing of the Magna Carta in 1215 that the word ‘parliament’ was really used. When King John died in 1216, it was left to leading barons and churchmen to govern the kingdom until the young Henry III reached maturity. It was the first time non-royals had been able to exercise power, and there was no turning back. The first thing they did was to ensure that Henry reaffirmed Magna Carta.
However, Henry’s increasingly dictatorial manner sparked a rebellion, and Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, raised an army which triumphed over the King’s at the Battle of Lewes in May 1264. In order to establish his authority, de Montfort summoned a parliament of the usual archbishops, bishops, abbots and barons, plus two knights from each shire and two burgesses from each borough. This later became known as the ‘summoning of the Commons’.
It met on 20 January 1265 and was dissolved less than a month later. No records remain of who attended. However, the make-up of the parliament was later copied and adopted by King Edward I in his ‘Model Parliaments’. Despite de Montfort’s death at the Battle of Evesham later in 1265, Henry III summoned the Commons three more times in his reign.
Saturday, 21 January 1950
There can surely be little debate about calling George Orwell one of the finest and most thought-provoking political writers of the twentieth century. Anybody with a passing interest in political literature knows the basic plots of at least two of his greatest works, Animal Farm and 1984. In 2008, The Times ranked him second in a chart of the 50 Best British Writers Since 1945.
Born Eric Arthur Blair in 1903 in India, Orwell came from a middle-class background. His father worked in the fantastically named Opium Department of the Indian Civil Service. Even at school he dreamed of being a writer.
At the age of fourteen he gained a scholarship to Eton. After Eton he spent five years with the Indian Imperial Police in Burma, but in 1927 he returned to England and reappraised his life, deciding to become a full-time writer. For the next year or so he concentrated on essays and journalistic endeavours, writing mainly about poverty, homelessness and the plight of the poor.
It was in 1933 that his first book, Down and Out in Paris and London, was published by the new, radical imprint Victor Gollancz. And he now took on the pen name of George Orwell. Given the subject matter of the book, he didn’t want to embarrass his family by using his real name.
But it was The Road to Wigan Pier, published in 1937, that set him on the road to success and fame. It also resulted in the security services monitoring him for twelve years. Orwell spent a year in Spain fighting in the Spanish Civil War, during which he was wounded, and this resulted in his next book, Homage to Catalonia, which turned out to be a commercial failure.
It was Animal Farm that really made Orwell’s reputation, with its allegorical warnings about the dangers of totalitarianism. Nineteen-Eighty-Four, or 1984, followed in 1949, but by then Orwell’s health was failing after years of suffering from respiratory problems, first encountered in Burma. In January 1950, he died at the age of forty-six. His fame and renown now exceed anything he achieved while he was alive.
Tuesday, 22 January 1924
Since the fall of the Lloyd George coalition in October 1922, British politics had changed beyond all recognition. At the 1922 general election Labour had supplanted the Liberals to become the main opposition party. While respectability had been conferred at last, radicalism was on the decline. Ramsay MacDonald, the Labour leader, was the perfect exemplification of the trend. Having been anti-war and a committed socialist in earlier years, he now became the very model of a responsible opposition leader with an eye on the premiership. When Prime Minister Baldwin called an election in October 1923, few thought it would lead to a Labour government, but that’s exactly what happened when Baldwin lost a vote of confidence in January 1924. King George V sent for MacDonald and Britain had its first Labour government, albeit it was only to last until October.
The new Prime Minister took on the role of Foreign Secretary too, in an effort to signal a willingness to clear up the mess created by the Treaty of Versailles and the ongoing issue of German reparations. As well as appointing Philip Snowden to the Treasury, it was notable that ten of his cabinet members had working-class origins.
It may have lasted only nine months, but the fact that a Labour government existed at all was possibly its main achievement. With the continuing widening of the electoral franchise, it sent a signal that a different future was possible. That’s not to say that nothing else was achieved in its short existence. MacDonald saw to it that strikes were quickly brought to an end, unemployment and other benefits were extended, and a Housing Act meant better and more housing for working people. He convened a conference in London of the great powers to deal with the German issue and later to ratify the Dawes Plan regarding German reparations. MacDonald also formally recognized the Soviet Union.
In August the government fell over MacDonald’s decision not to prosecute the communist-leaning Workers’ Weekly over its editorial inciting servicemen to mutiny. After losing a censure motion, Labour lost the ensuing general election in October.
Wednesday, 23 January 1963
It wasn’t as if no one saw it coming. Throughout the 1940s and 1950s there were suspicions about Kim Philby’s true allegiances. He had been recruited to Soviet intelligence in 1934 while at Cambridge. He became known as the most important member of the so-called ‘Cambridge Five’ spy ring. Guy Burgess, John Cairncross, Anthony Blunt and Donald Maclean were the other members of this traitorous group. Burgess and Maclean defected to the Soviet Union in May 1951, while Blunt and Cairncross’s activities were uncovered in 1964, when they turned Queen’s evidence in return for immunity from prosecution. These events did not become public until the late 1970s and 1980s.
After graduating from Cambridge Philby worked as a journalist covering the Spanish Civil War and the Battle for France. In 1940, he was recruited by MI6 and quickly rose through the ranks. In 1949, he was posted to the British Embassy in Washington, D.C., an ideal place to pass secrets to the Soviets.
While there, he tipped off Burgess and Maclean that they were about to be unmasked, resulting in them fleeing Britain to France and then on to Moscow. Although no one could prove anything, Philby became the main suspect and he resigned from MI6.
In 1955, he was publicly exonerated by Foreign Secretary Harold Macmillan in the House of Commons: ‘I have no reason to conclude that Mr. Philby has at any time betrayed the interests of his country, or to identify him with the so-called “Third Man”, if indeed there was one.’ Philby held a press conference saying: ‘I have never been a Communist.’
A year later, Philby was sent to Beirut to cover the Middle East for the Observer. It was there that he started an affair with a married American woman, Eleanor Brewer, who he later married in 1959. In 1961, the KGB officer Anatoliy Golitsyn defected and confirmed Philby’s role as a spy. The game was up. One night he just disappeared. He had boarded a Soviet freighter and turned up in Moscow several weeks later. He died there in 1988.
Sunday, 24 January 1965
On 24 January 1895, Lord Randolph Churchill died. Seventy years later, to the day, his son Winston passed away at his London residence at 28 Hyde Park Gate. The decline in his health had started in 1953 during his second term as prime minister. He suffered the first of eight strokes at a dinner in Downing Street. Somehow it was hushed up, with even the cabinet not knowing what had happened. His son-in-law Christopher Soames effectively took over the reins of power, in what would now be regarded as an unconstitutional coup. His eighth and final stroke occurred twelve years later on 15 January 1965. Nine days later he was dead. His last words were said to Christopher Soames: ‘I am so bored with it all.’ After the life he had lived, who could blame him.
He was without doubt the greatest Briton of the twentieth century, some would argue of all time. He was in the right place at the right time. It is one of the great ‘what ifs’ of history. What would have happened if Lord Halifax, rather than Winston Churchill, had become prime minister in May 1940?
The announcement of Churchill’s death was made at 8.35 a.m. It led the BBC radio news bulletins at 9. Afterwards they played Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, the one which starts with three short notes and one long one, which symbolized the letter V in Morse code.
The following day, Prime Minister Harold Wilson led tributes in the House of Commons and the Queen announced that Sir Winston would lie in state for three days in Westminster Hall. More than 321,000 people queued to pay their respects.