On Thursday 6 September the House of Commons was recalled to debate the position in the Gulf. Unlike the US Congress, Parliament firmly supported the stance taken by the Government: the voting when the debate ended the following day was 437:35. I was also turning my mind to the military campaign which I believed would have to be fought. Later that same afternoon I discussed the situation with Douglas Hurd. I said that I was ever more certain that Saddam Hussein would not leave Kuwait unless he was thrown out. I did not want to see a firm deadline, but we must start to look at the dates which would narrow the options for military action. I also said that we must not be under any illusion: if the sanctions against Iraq did not work, and the Americans and the Multi-National Force failed to take action, Israel would strike.
It was very difficult to know how effective the Iraqi army would be. I had some doubts about their soldiers’ spirit, based on the assessment of their preference for high-level bombing and chemical weapons over infantry fighting in the war against Iran. But the Republican Guard was thought to be more formidable. The Americans were extremely cautious, wanting very large amounts of armour in the Gulf before they would be prepared to move. By contrast, some of Iraq’s neighbours thought that the Iraqis would crumble quickly; and as it turned out they were proved right.
In any case, as with the Falklands, I was determined to ensure that our forces had the best possible equipment and plenty of it. The Americans wanted us to reinforce our troops in the Gulf and had suggested that we should send an armoured brigade equipped with Challenger I tanks to join the Allied Forces there. I knew that the Challenger had a good reputation for manoeuvrability, but a bad one for reliability. So on Thursday 13 September I called a meeting with Tom King, the Chief of the Defence Staff, the Chief of the General Staff and representatives of Vickers. I cross-questioned them about all the possible weaknesses. I could not forget the way in which the earlier American attempt under President Jimmy Carter to rescue the Iranian hostages had failed because the helicopters used had been unable to cope with the desert conditions. After much discussion they convinced me. But I said that they must take all the spare parts they could possibly need with them, not wait for more to be sent out, and I also insisted upon receiving a written guarantee of 80 per cent availability – several times better than Challenger had achieved in Germany.
I also wanted the commander of our forces to be someone in whom I – and they – would have complete confidence. Only one man seemed to be right for the job – Sir Peter de la Billière. Tom King was reluctant to see him appointed: Peter de la Billière was within a week of retiring and the other candidates clearly had much to be said for them. But I wanted a fighting general. I knew the qualities of Sir Peter from his command of the SAS operation at the time of the 1980 Iranian Embassy siege and from the Falklands. I also knew that he spoke Arabic – of some importance when part of a large multi-national force with a crucial Arab element. So I told Tom King that Sir Peter was not retiring now if I had anything to do with it: and if he did not go to command our forces in the Gulf, he would be coming as personal adviser on the conduct of the war to Downing Street. He went to the Gulf.
I met the President again in New York on the evening of Sunday 30 September. We were officially there to attend the ‘UN Children’s Summit’, an occasion at which the only high point was an inspiring speech from President Havel of Czechoslovakia. President Bush was very tired, having flown back to Washington from New York to complete negotiations with Congress on the fateful 1990 budget compromise, which was to undermine him politically, before returning for this meeting. But he was in good spirits. We discussed Jim Baker’s wish for another UN Security Council Resolution specifically to endorse the use of force to bring about Iraq’s withdrawal from Kuwait. As always, I was dubious. But what was clear to all of us was that the time for using force was now rapidly approaching. There was no evidence that sanctions were having any real effect on Iraq’s decisions – and that was what counted. I was clearer than ever in my mind that there could be no weakening in our resolve to defeat – and be seen to defeat – Saddam Hussein’s aggression.
On the evening of Tuesday 23 October I had a meeting with Tom King and Douglas Hurd. The main purpose was to give guidance to the Chief of the Defence Staff at his meetings with General Colin Powell, chairman of the US Joint Chiefs of Staff, in the United States over the next two days. I began by listing our strategic objectives. These were to provide the guidelines according to which British policy in the forthcoming war should be determined. Saddam Hussein must leave Kuwait and the latter’s legitimate Government must be restored. All hostages must be released. Iraq must pay compensation. Those responsible for atrocities must be brought to account before an international court. Iraq’s nuclear, biological and chemical capability must be eliminated in the event of hostilities and dismantled in the event of a peaceful withdrawal of Iraqi troops. To do this the widest possible alliance of Arab governments against Iraq must be maintained and Israeli involvement must be avoided. A regional security system must be established to constrain Iraq in the future.
As for Saddam Hussein himself, it would not be a specific objective to bring about his downfall, though that might be a desirable side-effect of our actions. I said that further work on targets in Iraq was needed. Purely civilian targets must be avoided. But it was for consideration whether power stations and dams should be regarded as legitimate targets. There was no intention that our forces should occupy any part of Iraqi territory, but they might need to enter Iraq in hot pursuit of Iraqi forces. I said that it was necessary to get the Americans to accept that military action would in all likelihood have to be initiated before the end of the year. I also said that we must try to continue to wean them away from seeking prior authorization for the use of force from the UN and to rely instead on Article 51.
I argued this last point through with Jim Baker when he came to see me on the evening of Friday 9 November. But I was not able to sway him. He said that UN authority was crucial to sustain the support of American public opinion for military action. I also raised my worries about delaying the military option until the extra American forces now being sent had arrived in the Gulf. I said that it was vital not to miss the window of opportunity which would close in early March. He was able to reassure me on this point. But by now time was running out for me as well as for Saddam Hussein.
In response to Jim Baker’s request and at my last Cabinet on Thursday 22 November – to which I announced my resignation as Prime Minister – the decision was made to double Britain’s military commitment and to deploy an extra brigade to the Gulf. We would send the 4th Brigade from Germany, comprising a regiment of Challenger tanks, two armoured infantry battalions and a regiment of Royal Artillery, with reconnaissance and supporting services. Together the two brigades would form the 1st Armoured Division. The total number of UK forces committed would amount to more than 30,000.
Since the morning of Thursday 2 August hardly a day had passed without my involvement in diplomatic and military moves to isolate and defeat Iraq. One of my very few abiding regrets is that I was not there to see the issue through. The failure to disarm Saddam Hussein and to follow through the victory so that he was publicly humiliated in the eyes of his subjects and Islamic neighbours was a mistake which stemmed from the excessive emphasis placed right from the start on international consensus. The opinion of the UN counted for too much and the military objective of defeat for too little. And so Saddam Hussein was left with the standing and the means to terrorize his people and foment more trouble. In war there is much to be said for magnanimity in victory. But not before victory.
CHAPTER FORTY
Men in Lifeboats
The background to and course of the 1990 Conservative Party leadership campaign – and resignation
IN 1975 I WAS THE FIRST CANDIDATE for the leadership of the Conservative Party to challenge an existing leader under the rules which had been instituted by Sir Alec Douglas-Home a decade earlier. Having
entered the field as a rank outsider, I won the leadership in an open contest. So I am the last person to complain about having to meet a challenge to my own leadership. But the circumstances of 1990, when Michael Heseltine challenged me, were very different. I had won three general elections and lost none, whereas Ted Heath had lost three out of four. I was a sitting Prime Minister of eleven and a half years in office, whereas Ted was a newly defeated Opposition leader. The beliefs and policies which I had pioneered in Britain were helping to remould world affairs. And our country was at that moment on the verge of war in the Gulf.
Of course, democracy is no respecter of persons, as my great predecessor, Winston Churchill, learned when having led Britain through her supreme struggle against the Nazi tyranny and in the midst of negotiations crucial to the post-war world order, he was defeated in the 1945 general election. At least, however, it was the British people who dismissed him from office. I was not given the opportunity to meet the voters – and they were not able to pronounce on my final term of office, except by proxy.
The 1965 procedure for electing the Tory Leader was, by unwritten convention, not intended for use when the Party was in office. Theoretically, I had to be re-elected every year; but since no one else stood, this was a formality.
I have already described the growth of political discontent in the summer and autumn of 1989. Of its causes, the most important was the economy. High interest rates aggravated what would otherwise have been more manageable problems, such as the agitation over the community charge – a running sore which would get much worse the following year. There was also a hard core of opposition to my approach to the European Community, though this was very much a minority view. And there was, of course, a range of backbenchers who for various idiosyncratic reasons, or because they had been denied or removed from office, would be happy to line up against me. There was even talk of one of them putting up for the leadership as a ‘stalking horse’ for the real contender, Michael Heseltine, lurking in the wings.
In fact, Sir Anthony Meyer decided to mount a challenge for reasons of his own in 1989, and there had to be a contest. Mark Lennox-Boyd, my PPS, George Younger, Ian Gow, Tristan Garel-Jones (a Foreign Office Minister of State), Richard Ryder (Economic Secretary) and Bill Shelton constituted my campaign team who quietly identified supporters, waverers and opponents. I did not myself campaign and no one seriously thought that I should. I won 314 votes, Sir Anthony Meyer 33. There were 24 spoilt ballots and 3 abstentions. But the contest had revealed, as George Younger told me, a certain amount of discontent.
Accordingly, I made more frequent visits to that fount of gossip, the Commons tearoom. I also began regular meetings with groups of backbenchers, usually recruited according to region so as to ensure a wide spectrum of views. At these meetings I would ask everyone around the table to speak their mind and then come in at the end to answer point by point. There was frank speaking on both sides – on one occasion a backbencher told me it was time for me to go. I may not have complied, but I did listen.
But no amount of discussion or attention to personal sensitivities could compensate for the political situation in the summer of 1990. High community charge bills made Conservative MPs anxious about their seats. Inflation and interest rates were still high. Divisions in the Parliamentary Party and the Government over Europe sharpened as the pace of the federalist programme accelerated. The rank and file of the Party was still with me, as they would show at the 1990 Party Conference, indeed perhaps stronger than ever in their support. But too many of my colleagues had an unspoken contempt for the Party faithful whom they regarded as organization fodder with no real right to hold political opinions. And in the event, no one would seriously listen to them – though they were formally consulted and pronounced heavily in my favour – when it came for my fate to be decided.
For my part, I remained confident that we could ride out these difficulties and win the next election. High interest rates were already doing their work in bringing down inflation, whatever the headline RPI figures showed. I was only waiting for signs that the money supply was firmly under control before cutting interest rates – and continuing to cut them even if that would entail a changed parity in the ERM. At the end of April I had my first serious discussion with the Policy Unit about policies that might be in the next manifesto. And that summer I had discussions with colleagues on setting up manifesto policy groups. My Party Conference speech in October 1990 raised the curtain on just a little of this, outlining proposals for privatization, training vouchers (and hinting at education vouchers), and increasing the number of grant-maintained schools. I wanted to be ready for the summer of 1991.
There was still much that I wanted to do. Most immediately, we had to defeat Saddam Hussein and establish a durable security framework for the Gulf. The economy was fundamentally strong, but I wanted to overcome inflation and recession and restore a stable framework for growth. I thought there was a good prospect of mopping up communism in central and eastern Europe and establishing limited government under law in the new democracies. Above all I hoped to win the battle for my kind of European Community – one in which a free and enterprising nation-state like Britain could comfortably flourish. But I also knew that the wider framework of international relations which was needed in the post-Cold War world – one in which international bodies like the UN, the GATT, the IMF, the World Bank, NATO and the CSCE held the ring, while nation-states and international commerce were left to their own proper spheres of activity – would not be built in a day. This was a substantial long-term programme. My problem was the lack of a successor whom I could trust both to keep my legacy secure and to build on it. I liked John Major and thought that he genuinely shared my approach. But he was relatively untested and his tendency to accept the conventional wisdom had given me pause for thought. Given time, John might grow in stature, or someone else might emerge. So, both because of the scale of the challenges and my uncertainty over the succession, I did not wish to step down before the next election.
Nor, however, did I seriously intend to go ‘on and on’. I thought that about two years into the next Parliament would be the right time to leave. Even then it would be a wrench. I felt as full of energy as ever. But I accepted that one day it would be my duty to leave No. 10, whether the electorate had demanded it or not.
What would not persuade me to depart, however, was the kind of argument put to me by Peter Carrington over dinner at his house one Sunday evening in April 1990. Denis was not there: he was away for the weekend. Peter argued that the Party wanted me to leave office both with dignity and at a time of my own choosing. I took this to be a coded message: dignity might suggest a rather earlier departure than I would otherwise choose. Peter was, I suspect, speaking on behalf of at least a section of the Tory establishment. My own feeling was that I would go ‘when the time was ripe’. I reflected that if the great and the good of the Tory Party had had their way, I would never have become Party Leader, let alone Prime Minister. Nor had I the slightest interest in appearances nor in the trappings of office. I would fight – and, if necessary, go down fighting – for my beliefs as long as I could. ‘Dignity’ did not come into it.
The restiveness of Tory backbenchers was transformed into open panic by the Eastbourne by-election later in October. Ian Gow’s old seat went to the Liberals with a swing of 20 per cent. The opinion polls also looked bad. Labour had a substantial lead. This was not a happy background to the Rome summit which I attended over the weekend of 27–28 October. Yet even as I was fighting a lone battle in Rome, Geoffrey Howe went on television and told Brian Walden that we did not in fact oppose the principle of a single currency, implying that I would probably be won round. This was either disloyal or remarkably stupid. At the first Prime Minister’s Questions on my return, I was inevitably asked about his remarks. I countered Opposition taunts by saying that Geoffrey was ‘too big a man to need a little man like [Neil Kinnock] to stand up for him’. But I could not endorse what he had said.
And my difficulties were just beginning. I now had to stand up in the House and make my statement on the outcome of the Rome summit. I duly stressed that ‘a single currency is not the policy of this Government’. But this assertion had two important qualifications. The first was that our own proposal for a parallel or ‘common’ currency in the form of the hard ecu might evolve towards a single currency. The second was a form of words, which ministers had come to use, that we would not have a single currency ‘imposed upon us’. And, inevitably, there were differing interpretations of precisely what that delphic expression meant. Such hypothetical qualifications could be used by someone like Geoffrey to keep open the possibility that we would at some point end up with a single currency. That was not our intention, and I felt there was a basic dishonesty in this interpretation. It was the removal of this camouflage which probably provided the reason for Geoffrey’s resignation.
I said in reply to questions that ‘in my view [the hard ecu] would not become widely used throughout the Community – possibly most widely used for commercial transactions. Many people would continue to prefer their own currency.’ I also expressed firm agreement with Norman Tebbit when he made the vital point that ‘The mark of a single currency is not only that all other currencies must be extinguished but that the capacity of other institutions to issue currencies must also be extinguished.’ My reply was: ‘This Government believes in the pound sterling.’ And I vigorously rejected the Delors concept of a federal Europe in which the European Parliament would be the Community’s House of Representatives, the Commission its Executive, and the Council of Ministers its Senate. ‘No, no, no,’ I said.
This performance set Geoffrey on the road to resignation. Exactly why is still unclear, perhaps to him, certainly to me. I do not know whether he actually wanted a single currency. Neither now or later, as far as I am aware, did he ever say where he stood – only where I should not stand. Perhaps the enthusiastic – indeed uproarious – support I received from the backbenchers convinced him that he had to strike at once, or I would win round the Parliamentary Party to the platform I earlier set out in Bruges.
Margaret Thatcher: The Autobiography Page 92
