Footloose

The early hours, 25th March 1983

“Balls!”

Michael Foot let his go-to word for these kind of situations reverberate through the dark rooms of his north London town house. Almost simultaneously, he threw his dog-eared copy of H.G. Wells at the television screen, with all his anger, frustration and strength, yet still doing little to alter what was being broadcast, in all its grainy technicolour.

Darlington had been lost.

Vincent Hanna was to blame, of course. Having been off with a bloody flu for the last few weeks, some tea boy had filled in, giving an easy ride to all the candidates, which was good for Ossie, but left the good people of Darlington with the silly impression that that bloody Cook had at least half a brain-cell! Foot couldn’t stand the sight of him, the light-weight soggy bastard was on the telly now, smiling away. He’d come third, but only just. The damage had been done none the less, the anti-Tory vote was split, and Michael bloody Fallon had come straight up the middle.

This had been something of a last chance saloon for Foot for some time. Rumblings in the PLP about a “fresh start” in the lead up to the election had been growing, and he couldn’t exactly blame them for it. He was getting tired of the job, not that he’d exactly wanted it in the first place. Benn and Healey tearing chunks out of each-other, the gang of four, the Falklands, it had all been a nightmare, and as each day went past the chance of election victory, the chance to get the country back on track, seemed to vanish further and further away from his grasp. Now his chances of even staying on as leader had all but evaporated. Neil, bless him, would stand up for him, but it was no good. The unions would be making arrangements by the morning, probably planning for Healey to take over in the meantime, or would they plan a quick leadership election? Christ, anything but that. Benn would no doubt already be whipping up support, and he had heard a lot of positive things about Neil from others.

What would happen to him now? Muddling on, he supposed. There would be more books to read and more books to write. He had missed the backbenches for some time.

He heaved a little as he leaned over to pick the book off the floor. By the time he got back to an upright position, which, to be frank, wasn’t exactly a quick manoeuvre for him anymore, the telephone started ringing.

Things were moving a lot quicker than he thought.
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Foot’s resignation as leader of the Labour Party in the early hours of Friday, 25th March 1983 plunged the PLP into one of the strangest long weekends in its history. Many on the right saw Foot’s departure as one final, great opportunity to save the party from complete decimation at the general election, tipped by many to be just weeks away. Many centrists and figures of the emerging soft-left, such as Kinnock and others in the Pro-Foot Tribune Group saw it instead as a shattering loss, costing the party its last, truly unifying figure. While in the shadows of the backbenches, the Bennite Campaign Group, still licking its wounds since the dashed dreams of 1981, saw its chance to bring the party back to its democratically decided socialist program under the leadership of the Group’s firebrand patron, Tony Benn.

Party, Union and Parliamentary offices were alive with activity within the first few hours, with various ambiguous and vague press releases spreading through various conflicting channels. David Basnett, chairman of the Trade Unions for Labour Victory campaign was quick to call for a “unifying” parliamentary vote for an acting leader, while Tony Benn’s office warned against an “undemocratic coronation”, a rather obtuse jab at the tipped favourite to replace Foot, his deputy Denis Healey. Healey himself, a stalwart of the right, had missed out on taking the leadership three years before, mostly due to a brash, neglectful and overconfident campaign. Now, however, as his talented loyalists began to circle around him in a defensive testudo of press releases and media appearances, all of whom calling for an interim leader in the run up to the general election, all efforts were made to avoid any form of contest but instead a unanimous approval for him, as Deputy, to take over.

Though carrying sway the once dominant right-wing of the party, an entity severely withered by defections to SDP and the Bennite ascension over the last three years, the soft and hard left respectively were up in arms at the prospect of a coronation. Though a supporter of Healey in all but name during the 1981 Deputy Leadership crisis, Kinnock’s affiliation to the CLPD and position as a firm supporter of the new Electoral College, made him quick off the mark to attack the so called “undemocratic elements” within the PLP, with many soon beginning to discuss the prospect of his own candidacy. Peter Shore, another figure of the Tribunite soft-left, though having no great love for the new order of things said that it would “not be sensible” to go against the new rules of the party for the sake of convenience.

A war of words and interviews between varying factions began soon after. Hattersley and Prescott, in scenes that would prove to foreshadow events four years later, traded verbal blows in a joint appearance on the six o’clock news. At a CLP meeting in Islwyn, the issue of Kinnock’s future ambitions came under intense scrutiny and discussion, an issue he himself sort to infamously dodge. In Bristol, Benn began plans for a new grassroots campaign for the leadership, a campaign which had been in the making since the Winter of Discontent sealed the fate of Callaghan and had come under its first trial run just two years before. Throughout the tea rooms of Westminster, Shore sought to whip up support among the soft-left and centrists of the party, both fearful of Benn, resentful of Healey and uninspired by Kinnock. Meanwhile, Healey himself, the once-heir apparent, found himself left far behind in a leadership campaign he never anticipated.

Ultimately, however, after a three day phoney war between the various factions of the party, with the Alliance experiencing another polling “bump” after Darlington and Conservative MPs licking their lips over the prospect of a decimating general election against a leaderless Labour Party, it was Tony Benn who fired the first real shot.


Monday, 28th March 1983

With his wife by his side and a collection of supporters around him, Tony Benn strode confidently towards the crowd of waiting journalists on iconic lawn of parliament square.

Benn had always been an ambitious man. From his early days as an MP, a loyal Gaitskellite, through his career as a cabinet minister under two Prime Ministers, and up to his rise to prominence as a left-wing campaigner and darling of the grassroots. All of it had been with a clear goal in mind, and all of it had led to this key moment. From the disappointment of 1976, to the ham-fisted speculation of 1980, to the incredible result of 1981, all of it had been a preparation.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” He said, with a curt nod. “I shall try and keep this as brief as possible as I am sure we shall all have a very busy schedule over the next few weeks.”

He retrieved from his jacket pocket a folded paper and began to read from it. “Today I am formally announcing my candidature for the leadership of the Labour Party. First I would like to pay tribute to our departing leader, Michael Foot. Michael has been a loyal and intensely active member of the party for nearly fifty years, and has dedicated his life to public service, to intellectual rigour and the course of British Democratic Socialism. And for that, he has earned my immense respect and admiration. But things have changed, and it is time for a new leader. A leader committed to transforming this party into a true democratic, social movement with the aim of creating a more equal, democratic and social society, for all. I believe - if the party is willing to support me - that I am someone willing and able to achieve this…”
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