BRIAN DEER:
HANG 'EM HIGH Page
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But, even with
the stoking, the delays and the prejudgment, the
basis for the charges of sleaze at the City Chambers
have, oddly, shrunk to nothing over the year. Council
records show that, despite Gould's outburst, all
foreign trips had been properly approved, and that
compared with overseas excursions by members of
parliament, any "junkets" were hardly
excessive. In the ten months before the row, a total
of 12 councillors had been on a total of 19 foreign
trips to 15 different destinations. Most, however,
involved the lord provost, who spent 36 days in the
Far East, 15 in North America and seven in Europe,
promoting the city in his ceremonial capacity - in
other words, doing his job.
The
accuser, Gould, meanwhile, had spent 11 days abroad,
making his allegations of apparent junketing by other
councillors seem wrong, if not downright a reckless.
And on October 28, opposition councillors, from all
parties - Conservative to Militant - rallied to
exonerate the suspended members, proposing a motion
that the beleaguered Labour leaders should keep their
prized chairmanships of committees.
With
the junkets allegation missing its mark, party
officials then came up with more intangible charges
of misconduct. In a secret internal report leaked
from Keir Hardie House, Gould was said to have
"failed to offer appropriate leadership to the
group" - shock, horror - while his deputy,
McDairmid was alleged to have "sought to
undermine the group leadership."
Lally
meanwhile was accused of having "failed to
maintain the standards required of a public
representative of the party", but there was no
real hint of what that was. The only substantive
criticism of the lord provost was contained in a
100-page letter sent to the defendants during
Christmas week in which he was said to have
authorised the use of too many cars in a trip to the
Edinburgh Tattoo. Nineteen councillors, officers and
business leaders took four vehicles (including a
stretch limo) to champion Glasgow at the rival city's
big event, at a cost of £450, including a dinner,
drivers' overtime and parking.
There
are no allegations of criminality against either man.
No investigation has been launched by the Glasgow
district auditor. And barely a person in the City
Chambers would argue that any misconduct was more
than stupidity. But, after a two-day hearing this
week, the constitutional committee is expected to
issue a statement next month that evidence of
misconduct has been proved. "It's no more than a
formality," said one senior city council
employee. "This is scary stuff."
*****
Whatever
the strengths and weakness of the charges, every sign
points to the covert execution of Blair's new Labour
agenda. For all the squabbling between Gould and
Lally, the City Chambers sits not only in the
socialist heartlands, but some say is potentially the
citadel of power for the most potent town hall
movement in Britain. Sources, ranging from the
Conservative opposition to council staff, say the
concealed issue is not really misconduct in Scotland,
but a desire in London to take control.
"Labour's
official investigators made their trip north on a
quite specific mission," argued Bill Robertson,
a local newspaper journalist who has sat through
meetings at the Council Chambers for 15 years.
"It was to create sufficient casualties to
destabilise the ruling clique and demolish the
biggest power base of old Labour in Scotland. With
Glasgow sorted out, the hearts and minds of party
activists elsewhere will quickly fall into
line."
It's
a cynically bleak scenario, but the apparent weakness
of the disciplinary charges again finds parallel on
Clydeside. In Monklands, a second inquiry into the
religious sectarianism issue reached an inconclusive
result. In Paisley, no evidence of criminal activity
or infiltration has been found. The MP Graham was
quickly cleared of any role in McMaster's suicide.
And, just as with the purge of Militant in the 1980s,
inquiries have more and more focused on hearsay,
rumour and suspected "associations".
Meanwhile,
the public spotlight on the issues is encouraged -
devastating the accused, guilty or not. Suspension
has cost senior councillors their "special
responsibility" allowances, which are sometimes
their families' only incomes. Glasgow's former deputy
leader, McDairmid, has been gone sick from work and
has cancelled surgeries because, friends say, he's
ill. Joan Graham, the MP's wife, has had a heart
attack. And many of the accused say that neighbours
now revile them because of how the word
"sleaze" sticks.
To
date, there has been reluctance to defend the
individuals, but this may be starting to change.
"As somebody who is identified with old Labour
in terms of policy attitudes, I strongly resent
efforts to attach indefensible behaviour to
long-standing members of the party," said Maria
Fyfe, MP for Glasgow, Maryhill, who was one of 47 who
voted against the government in last month's row over
lone parent benefits. "They should at least get
on with their inquiries and form conclusions one way
or the other."
Whether
more of old Labour - particularly in England - will
rally to the councillors' aid now appears to depend
on how the constitutional committee fulfils its brief
this week. It's unlikely to snub Blair, but there are
growing signs that it may provoke a backlash if it
strike's unfairly at the party's traditionalists. The
defeat last autumn of Peter Mandelson by Ken
Livingstone for a place on the national executive (in
a postal ballot dominated by new members), as well as
the anger over the government's scrapping of free
higher education, and the benefits revolt, are all
signs that abruptly dumping the party's heritage goes
against the membership's grain.
Dewar,
the Scottish Secretary, has been encouraged that, so
far, the apparent scandals have edged the party
further down the modernising road. Evidence from
selection meetings suggests that the disgrace of
councillors and MPs is benefiting the same kind of
educated, middle class Blairites who have seized key
positions elsewhere. A pro-leadership group called
the Network has scored impressive victories on the
party's Scottish executive and in selections for
parliamentary seats. And after McMaster's suicide,
Brown, the chancellor, effortlessly parachuted one of
his protégés into Paisley South: the 30-year-old
solicitor, Douglas Alexander.
But
despite these successes, the Blairite strategy is
fraught with political risk. Much of Labour's
Scottish bedrock is what is some call the
"numpty vote" - people who back it for
vague historical reasons, or out of tribal class
hatred for Tories. With old Labour tainted by sleaze
allegations and new Labour increasingly seen as the
heirs to Thatcherism, many observers expect the
party's Scottish ascendancy may slip further in the
direction of the nationalists.
"Suspending
individuals is one thing, but proving that the
underlying problems that led to the suspensions have
been dealt with is another matter," Michael
Russell, the Scottish National Party's chief
executive argued. "They are in a cleft stick
now. There is a public perception of corruption in
old Labour's one-party state, and no sense that there
is anything reassuring about new Labour."
He
has reason for optimism in the face of past
experience. After the Monklands affair, Helen
Liddell, a former aide to the late publisher Robert
Maxwell and now a Treasury minister, almost lost
Smith's safe seat to the nationalists, while in the
Paisley South by-election which installed Alexander,
10,000 Labour voters stayed home. In Glasgow, two
Labour councillors have in recent months defected to
the SNP; Govan is seen as a prime nationalist target
if Sarwar should give up the seat; and such has been
the damage inflicted on Graham that even his 8,000
majority in West Renfrewshire is seen as potentially
vulnerable.
These
developments - plus opinion polls pointing to a 15%
drift to the SNP in upcoming Scottish parliamentary
elections - may herald an reinvigorated democracy.
But some observers think that the sleaze sagas are a
warning for the rest of Britain. The most important
corruption in the west of Scotland has not been
criminality or votes-for-trips, but a lack of active
democracy existing in apparently democratic
institutions. With colossal majorities in legislative
chambers, a lack of debate on crucial issues, the
perks of office jealously shared among cronies, and
behind-the-scenes feuding between cliques, some now
ask whether they see on Clydeside the Labour
government's eventual fate.
