Robert Buckland Weblog

The death of Michael Foot at the ripe old age of 96 this week has undoubtedly robbed the political world of one of its giant Parliamentarians.  I enjoyed being reminded of his rhetorical triumphs this week, such as his strong defence of the doomed Labour Government in March 1979, his demolition of Sir Keith Joseph’s industrial policy by ridicule and his firey advocacy of unilateral nuclear disarmament at many a rally. 

Was Foot anything more than an inspired rhetorician, however?  As a historian, literary figure and journalist he excelled.  Despite suggestions to the contrary, he was not a unifying political figure, however.  He came to the Labour leadership as a compromise candidate, but his election split the Party apart.  His adoption of Conference resolutions as the basis for the 1983 General Election manifesto demonstrated his lack of willingness to face political reality. 

Foot had even managed to be expelled from Labour in the early 1960s for his stance on nuclear disarmament.  When his idol, Aneurin Bevan, eschewed dreamy idealism for hard nosed reality at the 1956 Labour Conference, Foot did not support him.   When he finally came to the Front Bench in the early 1970s, he did put his idealism behind him and proved to be a tough party manager.  There is no doubt that he played a vital role in keeping the Labour Government on track with its wafer-thin majority under Callaghan. 

As Employment Secretary, however, he presided over huge public sector pay rises that helped fuel the rampant inflation of that decade.  Foot spent his time placating the Unions whilst Harold Wilson ensured that the Royal Family received their Civil List increases.  This was a Labour Government that faced both ways, and which was prepared to spend whatever it took to get it out of trouble. 

Whether it is the fierce polemic of “Guilty Men”, the damning indictment of the policies that led to the surrender at Munich in September 1938, which Foot helped to write under the pseudonym “Cato”,  the carefully crafted biography (hagiography, but we can forgive him) of Bevan or the doughty defence of a lost cause in the 1983 election, I am left admiring a politician who in my view was on the wrong side of almost every significant political debate since the War. 

He was a man with a hinterland; not for him the sounbites or spin of modern Labour politics.   His direct approach may not be as old-fashioned as we think it is,  bearing in mind what I hear on the doorsteps week in, week out.