The second visit had an amusing twist. There is a long, straight, narrow road leading from Belize City to the north, and we noticed that at regular intervals there were stout steel poles driven into the ground. It transpired that these were to try to deter the small planes that transported drugs from South America to the USA from landing and being refuelled on deserted stretches of the road. One of the successful drug seizures by the Belize police, resulted in a top of the range limo being confiscated and handed to the Vice President for his official duties. He paid a price for his home was burnt down a few weeks later. But this was further compounded, for when the car was taken in for service, they found drugs stuffed into whatever space there was behind panels. Apart from the embarrassment, we were told later that he took it all in good part.
An exchange visit to the US Congress and Senate followed a visit by a Senator to England, who came to see live, Prime Minster’s question time. As he stood on the floor of the Chamber, he remarked as to how small it was, but more important he said “If we had the equivalent of Prime Minister’s question time for our Presidents, we would have very different Presidents”. After a thought he added, “Come to think of it, we would have very different Senators!” That trip to the States took me to a congressman in Florida, and I joined him at one of his fund raisers in a Wild West theme bar. Having made his pitch, he announced that with him was a guy from the mother of Parliaments, and I had to climb up to the balcony and quickly find something to say. After very brief pleasantries, I told them I’d just been re-elected and that my maximum spend would have been no more than 12000 dollars. There was a hoot of laughter, and someone shouted that it would not buy 10 seconds of TV time. Another quickly shouted, “What a great idea!”.
Late in 1988, shortly after the Palestine Liberation Organisation had convened their Parliament, and had indicated they were at last considering recognising the State of Israel in order that talks towards a settlement might take place, the Inter parliamentary Union accepted an invitation from the Tunisian Government, to send a small delegation on a planned interchange of members between our two countries. Although the trip was primarily to discuss their past and planned constitutional structure, their aim to facilitate an honourable settlement of the Israel/Palestine problem was top of their agenda. Through our ambassador Stephen Day, three of us Ted Ledbitter, Eddy Loyden and I agreed to meet PLO representatives, providing they understood that I was Jewish and a member of the Conservative Friends of Israel, and that Ted was similarly a member of Labour’s friends of Israel.
We met in a safe house with the PLO “Foreign Secretary” Farouk Kadoumi, who was also secretary of the Fatah organisation, Dr Zehdi Terzi their UN delegate, and Abu Jaffar the director of their political department. The meeting lasted for two hours and with our ambassador and Mr Simon Collis taking notes, and we made it clear we were there simply to listen. Kadoumi took us at our word, and we were given a lecture lasting three quarters of an hour, interrupted only in mid flow by his indicating that he knew I was the Jew. He made clear that whatever the wording of their “Parliamentary” declaration confirming recognition of the State of Israel, he would have none of it, and that it would not succeed. He made clear that even if a two State solution was agreed, it would not last and that his ultimate aim was a single Palestinian State, and that all Palestinians should be repatriated and returned to the homes they occupied prior to the War of 1948. Given we were there to listen, not to negotiate, I did not try to point out the much greater number of Jewish people were ejected from their homes throughout North Africa and the Middle East, and therefore forced willingly or otherwise to settle in Israel. In the discussion that followed, Dr Terzi underlined the fact that the Arab world was at war with Israel, yet failed to recognise that alone made it almost impossible for Israel to negotiate with people who refused to recognise them or to accept their right to exist. Both made it clear that any recognition of the State of Israel could only come after negotiations were complete, for they could not recognise it as a lawful state until boundaries were agreed, yet that was precisely what they were asking the world to do in respect of a Palestinian State. Frankly I came away from that meeting feeling that nothing had changed, and that the recent declaration was little more than a PR exercise designed to bolster support for their cause in the wider world.
In our home village of Barton in Fabis, we had some Greek Cypriot friends, and inevitably I took an interest in the troubles of that Island. I’d been to stay with these friends at their home which they had retained in Cyprus, and visited the home of his family whose house was close to the Green Line dividing the North from the South. What struck me sitting in their garden was that you could see barely 200 yards away, a line of flags marking the so called boundary. The vast majority of the flags were those of Greece, and were interspersed with the odd flag of Cyprus itself. On the other side they were faced with a few flags that were of Turkey. On meeting one of their Parliamentarians I could not help but point out, that if the National Flags of Greece and Turkey were the major display, how on earth were they ever to resolve their problems. Part of the stand off was economic, for the North supplied the water, and the South the electricity, something that no doubt has been resolved by now.
Meeting Australian PM Bob Hawke with a delegation led by Alf Morris in 1990
Inevitably I wanted to see the problem from the other side, and in April of 1989 had the chance to visit Northern Cyprus. This did cause some difficulty with some of our friend’s colleagues in their local community, but in the end they did accept that if MPs were ever going to be able to assist in any way to resolve the problems in the island, then we had to have seen the arguments from both sides. Sir Fergus Montgomery led our little group of six, which included two Northern Island members, Cecil Walker and Roy Beggs. We had to touch down first in Turkey, not even stopping over, for no direct flights were allowed, as such flights would be deemed to be recognising the State of Northern Cyprus. Therefore only flights coming in from Turkey were allowed. We had most informative meeting with Rauf Denktash, and senior members of his government, four of whom were educated in England. Mr Denktash had spent a lot of time in Liverpool, their Speaker Mr Hakki Atun, had been educated in Nottingham, and their representative in London Tansel Fikri in Sheffield. We met many who had fled north after 1974, losing everything, and were now subject to the discussions on swop arrangements with Greek Cypriots who had fled South, likewise leaving their land and properties behind. One of the many civilians we met was a Mr John Kent, a British citizen of Turkish origin, married to a Scottish wife and whose children had been educated in the UK. Mr Kent had tried to correspond with our Foreign Office to be told that unless return mail was addressed to Turkey, it would not be delivered to Northern Cyprus. His MP back home was Ivor Stanbrook, was bringing such difficulties to the attention of Ministers. I asked Mr Denktash whether he foresaw a time when his community in Northern Cyprus would be seen as inconvenient to Turkey. He felt that whoever governed Turkey would not survive what he felt sure would be seen as a desertion of their own. Thirty years on the problem is still there.
My most fascinating trip was to the Yemen on a human rights mission, for we understood that whilst most Yemeni Jews had long left to settle in Israel, there were perhaps a thousand still there in villages north of Sanaa. That exodus was quite extraordinary, for the Jewish community in the Yemen had been there for a few thousand years, and was perhaps one of the oldest in the world. Apparently in 1948 or 9 the Israelis sent some old DC10s to try to bring them to Israel. The fear was that such a primitive group would simply not board the plane. However they gathered their goats and belongings, and without fear boarded the plane, but had to be restrained from lighting cooking fires. It transpired that the “good book” had always said that one day they would return to the Promised Land on wings of eagles. For them the DC10s were just that. We had a most friendly and informative meeting with the Yemini foreign minister, Dr Abul Karim Al-Eryani, who expressed sorrow at what might be t
he loss of the remaining tiny Jewish community, who he referred to as Jewish Yemenis rather than Yemeni Jews, a subtle difference that was not lost on us. He spoke of the possible loss of the remaining Jewish community as a loss of 4000 years of civilisation. Accompanied by our ambassador we had a narrow escape when his heavily armoured land-rover slid over the edge on a rough road, and thankfully came to rest on a ledge that stopped before what we feared would be a tumble down into a deep gorge.
Some 100 miles north of Sanaa, we met the local Sheik who entertained us and arranged for us to visit his Jews. As ever, Greville Janner who as a member of the magic circle, could always break the ice with his tricks, and having scored a great success with the young son of the sheik, our attendance at the Sheik’s weekly feast with guests was quite something. It was a long carpet spread the length of the room, and we and other visitors sat on the floor along its length whilst food was piled on the carpet. Greville found himself as the favoured guest and sitting opposite the Sheik, whilst I, thank goodness, was well down the carpet. I was happy to eat the honey and slices of sorghum in front of me, but poor Greville had all sorts of heaven knows what fed to him by the Sheik. I’m sure it wasn’t kosher, but we were in the Sheik’s territory! We met one of the three Jewish families still living in the village, and apart from their ringlets, and the absence of any guns or knives, they were to all intents and purposes, Yemenis. Greville and I agreed to join them for their Friday night supper, and to stay for their customary evening service. Whilst they were anxious to offer traditional hospitality, we were conscious of their poverty and the inevitable simple fare provided, and so we endeavoured to take the smallest possible portions of their food without risking offence. A very old and almost blind elder, started the service, but promptly handed over to a young boy, who I don’t think was yet old enough to have been barmitvah. I found myself listening to a service I could have attended as a small boy pre-war in the Stoke Newington Synagogue, for it was the same, unchanged service for a couple of thousand years. The boy also had problems with his eyes, and Greville managed to arrange for him to come to England for an operation, which I believe was funded by an American ex-Yemeni citizen, who had helping to sustain the small remaining community in the Yemen.
We were accompanied by a truck with a mounted machine gun and crew, to another village where we were to meet another Jewish family. We stopped to seek directions from someone in the local market, who readily showed us where Sala the Jew lived. It was a Saturday, and arriving at his house, it was closed up and the large steel doors closed. Greville banged on the steel doors, and a face appeared framed in a small upper window. It for all intents and purposes it was Shylock from the Merchant of Venice! Shouting it was Shabbat, and go away, Greville finally managed to get him to understand we were Jewish and wished to pay our respects. We were let in and joined Sala and the rest of the male members of the family, in the customary post lunch chewing of quat. As ever in that part of the world, the women were not to be seen.
A short visit to the local market was instructive, for it naturally divided into separate lanes dependant on what was for sale. One lane sold little else but salt. Another farm produce, and another had a row of large containers, who’s front doors were open to display every kind of gun, AK47s, RPGs, you could wish for, and we managed to photograph a few of our party, capturing one of the containers in the background.
I had the opportunity to act as an observer in October 1988 at the plebiscite in Chile, called by Pinochet to decide whether he should serve another term on a straight forward Yes or No question. A colleague Jacques Arnold and I were sent there by the Inter-Parliamentary Union, and were joined by Dawn Primarola and George Foulkes from the Labour Party, along with journalists, some of whom were so convinced that it was either a stitch up, or that Pinochet would not accept the result if it went against him, that they had already drafted most of their reports. In addition to the delegation from the UK, observers from twenty nine other countries were welcomed by the Apainde group (Parliamentary Association for Democracy ).
Before leaving we were briefed by Mr Patrick Morgan of our South American Department, and by the Chilean Ambassador Senor Juan Carlos Delanu. We were met on arrival by Mr Jack Thompson from our embassy, and shown round central Santiago. We climbed Mount Santa Lucia, a popular recreation area where dozen of young people were doing what young people world wide will do in a public park in glorious sunshine ! It seemed a million miles away from what was to be a momentous and vital election.
Not something we’re used to in campaign procedure in the UK, but the Saturday prior to polling day, was set aside for the NO rallies and their campaign finale, and the Sunday for the SI. During these last two days of campaigning the boulevards in the city were crowded with decorated cars and floats, creating quite a carnival atmosphere. Election literature was hurled around like a New York ticker tape reception, so that at the conclusion of campaigning it could be said that you literally were walking ankle deep in paperwork. These were followed by two days where campaigning was banned, and people were left with time for quiet reflection on which way to vote.
One note of amusement arose from the recognition that there was one kind of “honking” if you were a NO supporter, and another if you supported the SI campaign. Cowards that we were, our car horn answered favourably to whichever “honk” we received. However when having answered favourably to a NO “honk”, a young person looked carefully into our car and made it plain that he recognised a bunch of middle class hypocrites. That Sunday, Patrick Morgan took us to the home of a recently returned Chilean Embassy official from London, Sr. Manuel Cardenas. We travelled on the Metro to a very pleasant outer suburb, and could not help but remark on the superb quality of the Metro system, and above all the spotless nature of the stations and trains, to a standard we could only dream of back home.
We used the two day pause to see a bit of the country, and drove up into the foothills of the Andes accompanied by Manuel and Maricruz Cadenas and Patrick Morgan. We stopped for refreshment at a wayside café, and found that the very elderly owner had a lifetime ambition to see London. His daughter brought out his treasured collection of photographs of London scenes, but we didn’t have the heart to tell him that the London of today was a very different scene to the Victorian London portrayed in his album.
We split up on polling day, and I was accompanied by Mr and Mrs Peter Holmes from our embassy to two towns, firstly to Buin some thirty miles from Santiago, and then to Rancagua ninety miles from the capital. We arrived at an all women station, and as we walked towards the polling booth, my guides heard one of the women in a derogatory way refer to us as Americans. No No Peter Holmes said, we are from England and this is a British MP. At this they immediately cried “Mrs Thatcher”, and burst into applause. Being nowhere from nowhere, the impact Mrs T had around the world could not have been better demonstrated.
The method of voting seemed much more secure and confidential than our own, for firstly women voted not just in separate polling booths, but in separate polling stations, avoiding male pressure that does affect some of our own elections. The ballot papers gave greater confidentiality, for the number on the ballot paper was removed before being handed to the voter, and the ballot box had a clear Perspex panel so that it was clear the vote had been cast and correctly boxed.
We gathered in the hotel awaiting the results, and as they came in, it was clear the answer would be No, but it was also clear that whilst the women had also voted No, they were far less anti Pinochet than the men. The journalists waited until Pinochet had publicly accepted the verdict of the people before they tore up their scripts and started again. Amongst the impressions and memories I brought back, was firstly that whatever its limitations, the outcome was clearly the wish of the Chilean people. Secondly and sadly, a distaste for those journalists representing newspapers of repute, some politicians who ought to know better, and some British students barely out of their nappies who perhaps could therefore be forgiven, who c
ame to Chile with their slogans, prejudices, and pre-written articles announcing fraud, which of course turned out to be anything but the truth.
Jacques had been born in Brazil, and had spent much of his commercial life dealing in finance throughout South America, and called on a few old friends. I could not believe how many secure cash trucks raced from Bank to Bank, many of which had been founded by British immigrants some 100 years earlier, and I soon could spot the “suits” with their secure briefcases, also hawking cash from place to place. Jacques fancied a meal in what he called the Meats restaurant, and ordered a large steak. I wasn’t particularly hungry and agreed to have something small and light and ordered a couple of kidneys. When they arrived, I swear they must have slaughtered an elephant, for I’d never seen kidneys the size of dinner plates before. Needless to say I had an uncomfortable 24 hours before my metabolism returned to normal.
Twice during my time in the House, I was able to act as an election observer in two elections in Bangladesh in 1986 and 91. The former had been called by General Ershad, who was seeking electoral backing for his continued Presidency. Our small delegation was lead by Lord Ennals at the invitation of the People’s Commission for Free Elections, effectively their equivalence of our Law Society and Judges, and their embassy in London gave us clearance to attend. Following our arrival we received a warm welcome from leading members of some of the Parties, Awami League, Jamaat-eIslami, Jatio Samajtantrik Dal, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party and the Bangladesh Khilafat Movement. Only the Jatiya Party were not prepared to meet us.
David Ennals, a long standing friend of Bangladesh, was obviously sympathetic to the cause of the Awami League, but we agreed that we should not take sides or seek to pass opinions, but simply record what we saw at polling stations, and let the figures speak for themselves.
Rowing Against the Tide - A career in sport and politics Page 14
