Thirty-Year Rule Rules, OK

2 January 2006



UK Government Releases Records of 1975

One of the delights of Hogmanay (Scots for New Year’s) is the release of papers by the British government that are no longer covered by the 30-year rule. This rule essentially classifies a load of documents for 30 years before the public gets to see them. This protects high level politicians and civil servants, who are usually all dead or too senile to face trial for whatever crimes they committed. So, here’s what 1975 looked like from Whitehall.

On the amusing front, Prime Minister Harold Wilson thought a lot about beer in 1975. He was worried about the small brewers being taken over by the majors, so he came up with a solution. Nationalize the small brewers. Yes, because big government is better at keeping a small brewery small than a major brewing corporation. He also was concerned that going metric would prevent the UK from selling beer (or milk) by the pint. “If we could announce that we have saved the pint for all time this would be very popular,” he wrote to Shirley Williams, the Secretary of State for Prices and Consumer Protection. A half liter jar of beer contains a bit more than a pint, so one wonders.

Over at the BBC, there seems to have been a “hippie” problem. Minutes of a lunch with Mr. Heath record Sir Michael Swann, top man at the Beeb, as saying that “while he would not pretend the BBC was completely clear of problems of this kind, it was a picnic compared with Edinburgh University. None the less he thought that too many young producers approached every programme they did from the starting point of an attitude about the subject that could be summed up: ‘You are a shit’.” Last spring, this spirit continued when Jeremy Paxman interviewed George Galloway after Mr. Galloway won a seat in parliament -- Mr. Paxman started by asking how Mr. Galloway felt about chasing one of the only black women MPs from the House.

Internationally, the Falklands War with Argentina lay a few years ahead, but the Ministry of Defence made a top secret assessment of the situation of the Islands. “Defence against a full-scale Argentine invasion is not considered a realistic course of action and recovery of the islands after a successful invasion would be so costly and risky as to be impracticable.” Clearly, they failed to inform Mrs. Thatcher of this assessment in 1982. Their proposal thirty years ago included outfitting 100 islanders with Enfield rifles that pre-dated WWI. Apparently, defending Western Europe from the Soviet bloc was too serious to allow for anything more.

The prize for “funniest if it weren’t so damn sad” award goes to the “Brighten up Ulster” campaign proposed by Michael Cudlipp, chairman of the government's Information Policy Coordinating Committee. In 1974, the Troubles took over 300 lives, and on March 18, 1975, the IRA declared an indefinite ceasefire. Mr. Cudlipp wrote that the government needed to “think really big” about “morale-boosting events” to capitalize on the ceasefire. What would do more to further peace in Northern Ireland than . . . “big variety stars”? He suggested people like comedians Eric Morecambe and Ernie Wise (then at the peak of their popularity) who could “give their services for more or less free as part of an attempt to boost Ulster.” Frank Sinatra might have been persuaded to help out as might Welsh baritone Geraint Evans.

The ceasefire didn’t take, and by December 31, 1975, 206 people had died in Ulster; 174 were civilians, and a majority of them were killed by green and orange paramilitaries. By 1976, the IRA called off the ceasefire. And it’s all the fault of Morecambe and Wise. There is, however, no truth to the rumor that Mr. Cudlipp’s son emigrated to America and got a job at FEMA.

© Copyright 2006 by The Kensington Review, Jeff Myhre, PhD, Editor. No part of this publication may be reproduced without written consent.
Produced using Fedora Linux.


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