Institutional Memory

 

Arthur C. Clarke, the British doyen of science-fiction who died this year, once wrote that since politics was the art of achieving the possible, it only attracted second-rate minds. Though no one could question the calibre of Clarke’s mind, his statement was only a half-truth; perhaps as a result of the insatiable pursuit of youth in our society, the figures once loomed larged over the political establishment now seem to have been unceremoniously dumped out of it.

While government in this country is no doubt the poorer for it, this practice has as a fortunate byproduct the creation of a vast deposit of political knowledge and experience, mostly on the backbenches of the major parties or in private life, whose keepers appear only too eager to share their wealth.

Topping the bill of notable politicians passing through Edinburgh this August must be John Prescott. ‘Prezza’ has loomed large over the Labour Party since Tony Blair was a schoolboy. It’s remarkable that a figure so emblematic of union power, working-class grit and socialism of the old order has survived so long in a political party that has undergone such dramatic changes. That said, Prescott’s stature has gradually diminished from that of firebrand activist to national joke – ask around in Rhyl, they know the punchline. The recent revelation that he suffers from bulemia has only added to the Prescott lore. On Tuesday 12 August, he’ll speak about his autobiography - Prezza: Pulling No Punches – and hopefully offer insights into an era of British government observed at first hand, as well as less serious aspects of his character and experiences.

Restoring some much needed dignity to proceedings will be the appearance of Tony Benn, a veritable national treasure whose decades of service and integrity as a radical left-wing Labour MP has won him his status as Britain best-loved political raconteur. A politician of towering intellect and vivacious wit, Benn gave up his hereditary title to sit in the House of Commons as an equal, and has since become synonymous with a dogged defence of the cause of the common person. What the public has gained in a loyal servant, the nation has lost as a statesman, as his trenchant views twice denied him leadership of the Labour Party. Latterly, Benn has made a nuisance of himself from outside the Commons as a critic of Tony Blair, the war in Iraq, and New Labour in general. A dedicated bon-vivant in his private life – touring with a folk group since his retirement – Benn has simply too much life experience to share for any reason to excuse not hearing him speak on Thursday 14 August.

In a fascinating juxtaposition, this year Benn shares the EIBF pulpit with another Old Labour warhorse, Roy Hattersley. Given that Hattersley has been an equally vocal opponent of Blairite Labour, it is easy to forget that as a right-winger in the party ranks – one of only seven Labour MPs to vote with the Tories in favour of EEC membership in 1972 – he once sparred with Tony Benn. Hattersley is an old hand at the EIBF, and is versed in the traditions of political gossip and innuendo that are well observed between speakers and journalists, columnists and sketch writers looking for a scoop. Point of Departure, the book published in 2003 by Robin Cook, the late cabinet minister and old friend of Hattersley’s, benefits from several such gems of proprietary information which I won’t spoil here; needless to say, those present on Sunday 17 August will doubtless be privy to more. They’ll likely also be privy to tales of Hattersley’s dog Buster, whose ‘diaries’ he published in 1999. Retired politicians have little to do, it seems.

Last, but certainly not least, Sir Menzies Campbell will be promoting his autobiography on Monday 11 August. The former leader of the Liberal Democrats will be sharing his extensive knowledge of international diplomacy, but given the manner of his departure from the front ranks of Westminster will doubtless have more to say about the decidedly undiplomatic dark arts of party politics. A mind and a story not to be missed.