The Downing Street Years, 1979-1990

by Margaret Thatcher

  The subject of the day was pensions and social security. I had expressly told Central Office that I wanted Health to be covered as well but this had not been done, which angered me. At the press conference briefing my toothache had come on again and I tore into Norman Fowler’s draft press release, rather unfairly, until David Wolfson, who is one of the few people who gets away with this sort ofthing, told me to ‘shut up’ and read it through first before making any more changes. I did so, agreed it and then faced the news about the poll. The worst was that there would be another poll by Marplan for the next day which was the subject of wild speculation. It would show whether the Gallup result was just a rogue poll, or whether our position really was slipping away.

  I had talked to David Young the previous night about my worries about the campaign, which seemed to me to be unfocused and not to stress sufficiently our strongest themes, in particular the record of economic prosperity. The following day, Norman Tebbit and I had a ding-dong row. This cleared the air. We agreed that some of our younger ministers, like John Moore and Kenneth Clarke, should be given a higher billing. I arranged to appear upon the David Frost programme from which I had been withdrawn. But at this stage we had still not agreed on the advertising for the following week.

  The press conference that day was widely considered to be a disaster for us and I was held to blame. The issue arose of private health care. I refused to be apologetic for the fact that I used private health insurance to have minor operations done speedily, without adding to the queue for NHS treatment and using my own money. What I said was immediately exploited as being insensitive, callous and uncaring. I was aware that the press conference had not been a success in public relations terms. But I was not going to back down, however much others around me hoped that I would stay silent on the matter in the interviews when it was bound to be raised. Moreover, my instincts were right and that of the professionals wrong. The press set out on what turned out to be a fruitful hunt for examples of Labour politicians and their families who used private health care. By the end of the campaign I had won this argument — and it was definitely worth winning.

  After the press conference I set out my ideas for a major advertising campaign, which I had previously privately discussed with Tim Bell, who had of course been effectively excluded from the campaign by Central Office and Saatchis. I wanted this to be based heavily on our record of achievements, which may have seemed dull to the creative and unpolitical minds of communications specialists but which — as was subsequently demonstrated again at the 1992 general election — are what the electorate is really likely to vote on. Saatchis were to devise one set of advertising for me to see and approve: meanwhile Tim Bell and David Young were working on another which I believed would be better. I went to the Alton Towers theme park in Staffordshire, without being quite in the mood for jollity, still worried about what would come of the advertising, even more concerned about the mysterious opinion poll we were waiting for. There was media speculation that it would show our lead down to 1 per cent. While at Alton Towers I overheard a BBC newscaster remark, ‘that’s it: she’s downhill all the way now.’

  I had little time to deal with the advertising when I arrived back at No. 10. I liked the material Tim Bell had prepared. Norman Tebbit, who is always a big man in such situations, frankly acknowledged that the new ideas for the advertising were better. I left him and David Young to deal with it all while I went on with the briefing for my interview with Jonathan Dimbleby. There is only one complaint I still allow myself to nurture against my staff in No. 10: that is that I was not told before I went on television about the results of the poll, which put us back in a healthy lead and showed that the earlier one was not to be taken seriously. Perhaps it was as well, for it was a tough interview and I really fought back. At least one good — if extremely expensive — thing came out of that rogue poll: for it prompted me to insist on that newspaper advertising blitz on the lines I wanted, which consolidated our support.

  I was due to speak in Chester on Friday. I did not really concentrate on my draft speech until I was in the train that morning to Gatwick. I found it far too theatrical. I was expected to use ‘props’ — to ensure that television news concentrated on certain passages — a large key to illustrate the advances in home ownership was just one of several. Stephen Sherbourne and John Whittingdale were promptly asked to bring this flight of fancy down to earth. As is often the case with speeches, panic proved productive. The revised text was first class: the audience approved as well.

  Over the weekend I had several more big interviews. The Today Programme on Saturday morning was characteristically hostile. However, I enjoyed Channel 4’s Face the People later that morning, in which voters from marginal constituencies questioned me on our policies. I loved these occasions: the questions are real and have a life and a depth that one-to-one interviews never evoke. On Sunday I was interviewed by David Frost. The questioning was tough but fair, concentrating heavily once more on the private health issue. We all felt that it had gone quite well.

  This was also the day of our final ‘family rally’ at Wembley where, as in 1983, television personalities, actors, comedians and musicians gave us their public support. Ronnie Millar had written a version of the Dad’s Army theme song, ‘Who do you think you are kidding, Mr Kinnock?’, to which the audience sang along as at a pantomime. This went down very well and when my turn came to speak I picked up the theme predicting that millions of traditional Labour voters, disgusted with their Party’s swing to the left and neutralism, would soon be joining ‘Mum’s Army’. To my surprise it was the lead item on that evening’s TV news. I felt that this important message, at least, was getting across.

  On Monday, after chairing our press conference and then recording an interview with Sir Robin Day, I left for the G7 economic summit in Venice. I had decided before the campaign began that I would almost certainly go to the G7, just as I had gone to Williamsburg in 1983. My role as ‘international statesman’ was a more important element in our election campaign this time; so there were even stronger political arguments for making the visit. In any case, I never missed the opportunity of talking with President Reagan as I would both at the dinner that evening which concentrated on arms control and at my tête-à-tête meeting with him the following morning before the first formal session on the economy. There was a real point at issue on arms control, on which I wanted to make my position clear. Chancellor Kohl wanted to press ahead with negotiation with the Soviets for the removal of shorter-range nuclear weapons. I was not prepared to see British forces in Germany left without their protection and said so forcefully over dinner. I would not subscribe to any communiqué which established the goal of further reductions, at least until agreement to eliminate chemical weapons and redress the imbalance in conventional forces. In this, I received the crucial backing of President Reagan.

  I was back in Britain by 2.30 on Tuesday afternoon. A draft of my speech for Harrogate that evening was waiting for me with Stephen Sherbourne and the speech writers when I landed at Gatwick. To my relief and their amazement I liked it. It was essentially a summary of what I, at least, thought were the three main themes of the election: Conservative prosperity, Labour extremism, especially on defence, and the new reforms of education and housing to give more power to the people. On the way to the hall at Harrogate I had been given the results of the specially large — and therefore significant — Gallup 2000 poll. They showed us with a 7-point lead. ‘Not enough,’ I said. But it was good news all the same. It seemed that our opinion poll rating had been practically level throughout the entire campaign.

  I returned to London, but I did not ease up. On Wednesday morning I answered questions on the Election Call ‘phone-in programme. I spent most of the afternoon campaigning in Portsmouth and Southampton.

  After voting myself, I spent Thursday morning and early afternoon in Finchley visiting our Committee Rooms and then, as the time for getting late voters out to the poll approached, I ret
urned to No. 10. Norman Tebbit came over and we had a long talk over drinks in my study, not just about the campaign and the likely result, but also about Norman’s own plans. He had already told me that he intended to leave the Government after the election because he felt that he should spend more time with Margaret. There was not much I could say to try to persuade him otherwise, because his reasons were as personal as they were admirable. But I did bitterly regret his decision. I had too few like-minded supporters in the Government, and of these none had Norman’s strength and acumen.

  I had supper in the flat and listened to the television comment and speculation about the result. Before I left for Finchley at 10.30 p.m. I heard Vincent Hanna on the BBC forecasting a hung Parliament. ITV was talking about a Conservative majority of about 40. I felt reasonably confident that with the Alliance vote having clearly collapsed we would have a majority, but I was not at all confident how large it would be. My own result would be one of the later ones; but the first results began to come in just after 11 p.m. We held Torbay with a larger than predicted majority. Then we held Hyndburn, the second most marginal seat, then Cheltenham, a seat targeted by the Liberals, and then Basildon. At about 2.15 a.m. we had passed the winning post. My own majority was down by 400, though I secured a slightly higher percentage of the vote (53.9 per cent).

  I was driven back into town, arriving at 2.45 a.m. at Conservative Central Office to celebrate the victory and thank those who had helped achieve it. Then I returned to Downing Street where I was met by my personal staff. I felt grateful to them because, whatever the deficiencies of the national campaign, they had done a superb job. I remember Denis saying to Stephen Sherbourne, as we went down the line: ‘You have done as much as anyone else to win the election. We could not have done it without you.’ Stephen may have been less pleased by my next remark. It was to ask him to come up to the study to begin work on making the next Cabinet. A new day had begun.

  CHAPTER XX

  An Improving Disposition

  Reforms in education, housing and the Health Service; the situation in Scotland

  THE NEW GOVERNMENT

  The first priority after the 1987 election victory was to see that I had the right team of ministers to implement the reforms set out in our manifesto. The reshuffle was a limited one: five Cabinet ministers left the Government, two at their own request. The general balance of the new Cabinet made it clear that ‘consolidation’ was no more my preferred option after the election than before it. John Biffen, whose less than inspiring slogan this had been, left the Cabinet: this was a loss in some ways, for he agreed with me about Europe and had sound instincts on economic matters too, but he had come to prefer commentary to collective responsibility. I lost Norman Tebbit for reasons I have explained. But Cecil Parkinson, a radical of my way of thinking, rejoined the Cabinet as Energy Secretary. I made no change at Education where Ken Baker would make up in presentational flair whatever he lacked in attention to detail, nor Environment where Nick Ridley was obviously the right man to implement the housing reforms which he had conceived. These two areas — schools and housing — were those in which we were proposing the most far-reaching changes. But it was not long before I decided that there must be a major reform of the National Health Service too. In John Moore, whom I had promoted to be Secretary of State for Health and Social Services, I had another radical, anxious to reform the ossified system he had inherited. So the Government soon found itself embarked on even more far-reaching social reforms than we had originally intended.

  APPROACHES TO EDUCATION REFORM

  The starting point for the education reforms outlined in our general election manifesto was a deep dissatisfaction (which I fully shared) with Britain’s standard of education. There had been improvements in the pupil-teacher ratio and real increases in education spending per child. But increases in public spending had not by and large led to higher standards. The classic case was the left-wing dominated Inner London Education Authority (ILEA) which spent more per pupil than any other education authority and achieved some of the worst examination results. Precisely what conditions and qualities made for good schools was a matter of vigorous debate. I had always been an advocate of relatively small schools as against the giant, characterless comprehensives. I also believed that too many teachers were less competent and more ideological than their predecessors. I distrusted the new ‘child-centred’ teaching techniques, the emphasis on imaginative engagement rather than learning facts, and the modern tendency to blur the lines of discrete subjects and incorporate them in wider, less definable entities like ‘humanities’. And I knew from parents, employers and pupils themselves that too many people left school without a basic knowledge of reading, writing and arithmetic. But it would be no easy matter to change for the better what happened in schools.

  One option would in theory have been to advance much further along the path of centralization. In fact, I did come to the conclusion that there had to be some consistency in the curriculum, at least in the core subjects. The state could not just ignore what children learned: they were, after all, its future citizens and we had a duty to them. Moreover, it was disruptive if children who moved from a school in one area to a school elsewhere found themselves confronted with a course of work different in almost all respects from that to which they had become accustomed. Alongside the national curriculum should be a nationally recognized and reliably monitored system of testing at various stages of the child’s school career, which would allow parents, teachers, local authorities and central government to know what was going right and wrong and take remedial action if necessary. The fact that since 1944 the only compulsory subject in the curriculum in Britain had been religious education reflected a healthy distrust of the state using central control of the syllabus as a means of propaganda. But that was hardly the risk now: the propaganda was coming from left-wing local authorities, teachers and pressure groups, not us. What I never believed, though, was that the state should try to regiment every detail of what happened in schools. Some people argued that the French centralized system worked: but, whether it worked for France or not, such arrangements would not be acceptable in Britain. Here even the strictly limited objectives I set for the national curriculum were immediately seen by the vested interests in education as an opportunity to impose their own agenda.

  The other possibility was to go much further in the direction of decentralization by giving power and choice to parents. Keith Joseph and I had always been attracted by the education voucher, which would give parents a fixed — perhaps means-tested — sum, so that they could shop around in the public and private sectors of education for the school which was best for their children. The arguments against this were more political than practical. By means testing a voucher one could even reduce the ‘dead weight’ cost — that is the amount lost to the Exchequer in the form of subsidy for parents who would otherwise have sent their children to private schools anyway.

  However, Keith Joseph recommended and I accepted that we could not bring in a straightforward education voucher scheme. In the event, we were, through our education reforms, able to realize the objectives of parental choice and educational variety in other ways. Through the assisted places scheme[74] and the rights of parental choice of school under our 1980 Parents’ Charter we were moving some way towards this objective without mentioning the word ‘voucher’.

  In the 1988 Education Reform Act we now made further strides in that direction. We introduced open enrolment — that is allowing popular schools to expand to their physical capacity (broadly judged by the numbers of children accommodated in 1979). This significantly widened choice further and prevented local authorities setting arbitrary limits on good schools just to keep unsuccessful schools full. An essential element in the same reforms was per capita funding, which meant that state money followed the child to whatever school he attended. Parents would vote with their children’s feet and schools actually gained resources when they gained pupils. The worse schools
in these circumstances would either have to improve or close. In effect we had gone as far as we could towards a ‘public sector voucher’. I would have liked to go further still and decided that we must work up a possible full-scale voucher scheme — I hinted at this in my final Party Conference speech — but did not have the time to take the idea further.

  GRANT-MAINTAINED SCHOOLS

  But we needed to do one more thing to make parental choice a reality. This was to give more powers and responsibility to individual schools — something very much in line with my instinctive preference for smaller schools rooted in real local communities and, insofar as this was possible in the state sector, reliant on their own efforts and energies. But it was Brian Griffiths who devised the extremely successful model of the ‘grant-maintained (GM) schools’, which are free from local education authority (LEA) control entirely and are directly funded from the DES.[75] With a healthy range of GM schools, City Technology Colleges, denominational schools and private schools (known as ‘public’ schools, much to the confusion of American visitors to Britain) parents would have a much wider choice. But, even more vital, the very fact of having all the important decisions taken at the level closest to parents and teachers, not by a distant and insensitive bureaucracy, would make for better education. This would be true of all schools, which was why we had introduced the Local Management of Schools Initiative (LMS) to give schools more control of their own budgets. But GM schools took it a giant step further.

  The governors of a GM school were empowered to manage its budget (receiving their money directly without a service charge deducted by the LEA). They appointed the staff including the head teacher, agreed policy as regards admissions with the Secretary of State, decided the curriculum (subject to the core requirements) and owned the school and its assets. The schools most likely to opt out of LEA control and become GM schools were those which had a distinctive identity, which wished to specialize in some particular subject or which wanted to escape from the clutches of some left-wing local authority keen to impose its own ideological priorities.