GREAT BRITAIN: Battle of the Giants

On the pale green floor of the House of Commons last week the champion orators of the Labor Party and of the Tory Opposition clashed in head-on combat. Technically they were debating Britain’s monetary plight, but they both made slambang political speeches aimed straight at the forthcoming national elections.

Winston Churchill is the descendant of great nobles. Minister of Health Aneurin (“Nye”) Bevan, a quarter-century younger, is the descendant of Welsh coal miners. Both have a look of pink cherubic majesty; both are enormously effective speakers. In the four years of the Labor government Bevan and Churchill, who hate each other, had not been directly opposed as principals in a Commons debate.

It was a fascinating show for the M.P.s, who sat packed in cheek-by-jowl discomfort on the red leather benches. There was not room for all to sit down; a group of standees looked on eagerly from the rear of the room. The M.P.s were bemused by the champions but not awed by them; both debaters were frequently interrupted by heckling and laughter.

Squirrel & Cage. Chancellor of the Exchequer Sir Stafford Cripps had opened for the government with an able but unexciting defense of his devaluation of the pound. When his turn to speak came, Winston Churchill peered owlishly over his spectacles and said that the Labor government’s policy and makeshift expedients had brought the nation close to bankruptcy. A Laborite heckled: “Sell your horse!” Churchill shot back: “I could sell him* for a great deal more than I paid for him, but I am trying to rise above the profit motive.”.

Churchill made cruel fun of Cripps for declaring so frequently that he would never devalue, then being forced into the horrid step “higgledy-piggledy.” He said the Chancellor had “[turned] completely round like a squirrel in his cage.” Churchill twirled his stubby forefinger to indicate the. squirrel’s acrobatics, as the packed benches rocked with laughter.

There was much more. But in effect what Churchill had to say was that abundance does not come to a country that tries to have economic equality by fiat. If Britain wanted prosperity, let her vote the Conservatives back in.

Bladder & Poniard. Next day burly, blue-suited Nye Bevan strode forward. Looking straight at Churchill, he lashed out: “I welcome this opportunity of pricking the bloated bladder of lies with the poniard of truth.” Churchill heaved himself to his feet and objected to the word “lies.” The bewigged Speaker overruled him. Thereafter Churchill sat back impassively, sometimes as if dozing, and let the waves of invective roll over him. The only sign of anger was the growing pallor of his face.

In Bevan’s voice there were echoes of sad Welsh valleys as he said slowly: “I am a miner.” Then, louder: “I was brought up in a mining family in a mining area and a steel area.” Then the pounce, with hissing venom: “The right honorable gentleman’s name was execrated!”

Genially Bevan said: “The right honorable gentleman thinks that he is the leader of the Conservative Party.” In a whisper like muted flutes: “But he is not, he is not!”—the inflection rising mockingly on each “not.” Finally the crash of brasses: “He is their decoy!”

The tirade went on & on. In effect, what Bevan said was that there was nothing the matter with Britain that had not been handed on by Tory predecessors, or aggravated by Tory criticism during the postwar period. When he finished he got a deafening ovation from Laborites. Deputy Premier Herbert Morrison’s smile, however, was wan and sickly. With Attlee tired, Cripps and Ernie Bevin ailing, Morrison and Nye Bevan are the chief rivals for Labor leadership. Bevan’s admirers thought his slambang speech had moved him several notches nearer to No. 10 Downing Street.

Spring or Autumn? By 342 votes to 5 (the Conservatives and Liberals abstaining) the government’s money measures were approved. Winston Churchill’s motion of censure was defeated 350 to 212. The merits and demerits of devaluation had been engulfed in a more urgent question: When would the election be held?

Labor strategists would almost certainly not schedule it for the depths of winter, because it is hard to get out the workingman’s full vote in cold weather. The Labor Party machinery was not tuned up for an election before spring. The shrewdest observers, sure that Attlee and Morrison did not want a fall election, predicted a date around May i. But Nye Bevan was reported to be insisting on a “snap” autumn election. If that was really what he wanted, he might get it, for in the drab ranks of Labor statesmen he was the nearest thing to a popular hero.

*Churchill won his first race with his first race horse, Colonist II, in August.