Lloyd Evans
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Myths accrue around the Speakership. Like judges, Speakers are assumed to be the slaves of historic precedent, but in practice a fleet-footed Speaker is able to clothe any spur-of-the-moment decision in the garb of immemorial antiquity. Impromptu actions, conceived over breakfast and celebrated before noon as traditions originating with the Conquest, are a defining feature of British democracy.
The most enduring fiction relates to the Chair’s impartiality. There’s no such thing.Most Speakers create a semblance of balance by engaging in conspicuous acts of disloyalty towards their former colleagues. Cardiff MP George Thomas served between 1976 and 1983, and his dislike of the Labour leadership was as blatant as his adoration of Margaret Thatcher. In 1980, he sent the Tory prime minister a political billet-doux. ‘Every blessing to you in your heroic efforts to put the country back on its feet. You deserve to succeed & I hope and pray that you will.’ Notice that Thomas pledges not just his own chair to the Conservative cause but the throne of heaven as well. So much for neutrality.
Thomas was succeeded by the Tory whip, Jack Weatherill, who was expected to maintain his predecessor’s bias. Thatcher took him aside shortly after he accepted the job. ‘I’ve nothing against you but you won’t look after us like George did.’ ‘I hope not,’ said Weatherill crisply. ‘That was noticed.’ A ‘black glove’ plot to unseat him followed. ‘The great art,’ he said, ‘is to discover whose fingers are in it.’ He had no doubt that Thatcher was behind a visit he received late one night from the House of Commons accountant. ‘I don’t know whether you’re interested, sir,’ said the fawning emissary, ‘but the Speaker gets a full pension whenever he retires. If you retire tomorrow you’ll get a full pension.’
Unflattering articles began to appear in the press and Weatherill was compelled to fight back. In a TV interview he dropped hints that political elements were preventing him from performing his ‘duty’. It worked. A second herald arrived from No. 10 and asked the Speaker for a truce.
When Betty Boothroyd took over from Weatherill she dispensed with the full-bottomed wig — ‘sufficient thatch of my own’ — and rapidly established herself as a colourful, pugnacious Speaker who enjoyed the support of all parties. A rare distinction.
The function of the Chair is to hold power to account. Boothroyd’s successor, Michael Martin, wanted it to become a power in its own right. As touchy and arrogant as Charles I, Martin resented the title ‘Gorbals Mick’ bestowed on him by the Daily Mail sketchwriter Quentin Letts. He even plotted to ban Letts from the chamber, and this Stalinist threat, though later withdrawn, permanently soured his
relationship with the press. Consequently, he had no media chums around to advise him when the expenses scandal broke in the Daily Telegraph in May 2009. Any sentient journalist would have told Gorbals Mick to release all the details at once. But he opted for secrecy and hesitation instead. The Telegraph, unable to believe its luck, was able to drip-feed the information at its leisure, and to keep its circulation sky high for weeks on end.
Martin’s bungling cost him his career and on 21 June 2009 the Chair suffered its first involuntary redundancy since 1695. The current incumbent, John Bercow, is cordially loathed by David Cameron, and continues to attract abuse from all quarters. It’s a sure sign that his Speakership will one day be extolled as a model of diplomatic adroitness and political wisdom.
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