The Rt. Hon. Sir John Major KG CH

Category: 2001-2009

  • Mr Major’s Letter to the Daily Telegraph – 15 September 2003

    The text of Mr Major’s letter to the Daily Telegraph on the subject of the Single Currency, published in September 2003.

    JOHN MAJOR:

    Sir,

    The Swedish rejection of the Euro re-emphasises the unlikelihood of our Government holding an early Referendum on the same subject. They will not do so for they know they will lose.

    In 1991, at Maastricht, I obtained an opt-out from the Euro. Later, I persuaded Cabinet to offer a Referendum prior to membership – a commitment the Blair Government had no choice but to inherit. I am therefore – at least in part – responsible for Sterling not yet having been abolished and the Euro adopted. It has always been my view that circumstances might arise in which it would be in our interests to join, but I have yet to see any that are imminent.

    The belief of the euro-sceptics that I offered a Referendum to appease them is both fatuous and wrong (as official documents will reveal in time). I did so because entry to the Euro would have a personal impact on every citizen and was therefore an issue upon which I felt they should have the opportunity to express an opinion.

    The same principle applies to the proposed European Constitution. The Government are resisting a Referendum on the specious grounds that Margaret Thatcher did not have one on the Single European Act and nor did I on the Maastricht Treaty. This line of defence does not stand up to examination.

    In neither instance was such a clear and fundamental point at issue. Moreover, at Maastricht, I opted out of the two greatest concerns – the single currency and the Social Chapter. I also agreed a negotiating position with Parliament and held to it in every particular. The present Government are not in this position with the proposed European Constitution.

    Another difference is relevant too: in the 1980s and 1990s, referenda were not commonplace, hence my difficulty in getting Cabinet to agree to one since many colleagues did not like the wider constitutional implications. Labour, however, have used referenda frequently.

    The Government should stop hiding behind a half-truth and offer a public poll on the European Constitution without further delay.

    Yours faithfully,
    JOHN MAJOR.

  • Mr Major’s Speech at the Children for Peace Lecture – 4 April 2003

    The text of John Major’s speech at the Children for Peace Lecture, held in Warrington on Friday 4th April 2003.

    JOHN MAJOR:

    There are some events seared into the mind and never forgotten. The Warrington bomb is one. I remember the day vividly: Saturday, March 20th, 1993, a warm, sunny afternoon and I was walking in the garden of my home in Huntingdon. It was a rare moment of peace of mind at a turbulent time. The sound of a ringing telephone interrupted that Spring day and in quiet despair I listened as Number 10 told me of the bomb and the likelihood of there being fatalities.

    And so it proved. Two little boys, wholly innocent of any political thought or action, had their young lives cut short by that bomb. 56 others – totally unconnected with Northern Ireland disputes, suffered injuries – many serious.

    The true horror of that Warrington day struck deep into the British psyche. The images of Tim and Johnathan are as vivid today as they were during that dreadful weekend.

    That bomb – with its pitiless destruction – was to have a lasting impact on the Peace Process.

    The process had begun over two years earlier. In 1992, Albert Reynolds had become Taoiseach, Prime Minister of Ireland. He and I knew one another from our days as Finance Ministers. We were at ease with each other from the start – and shared the same view about the Irish troubles: we both believed they could be brought to an end. An examination of history did not support our optimism. Initiative after initiative had failed: the Willie Whitelaw talks in 1972; the Sunningdale Agreement made by Ted Heath in 1973; Jim Prior’s Assembly proposals in 1982 and Margaret Thatcher’s Anglo-Irish Agreement in 1985.

    Albert and I knew that if progress were to be made it would require a joint approach by the British and Irish Governments: a solo effort would not be enough. Before 1990, contact between the two Governments had been minimal despite our mutual membership of the EU. Charlie Haughey, the then Taoiseach, and I had agreed we should meet at least twice a year bilaterally and be in regular contact between such meetings. Albert Reynolds was keen to do the same. Over the years our senior officials were to get to know one another well, too.

    From the moment I arrived at Number 10, Northern Ireland was a priority issue for me. I can’t rationally explain why: I can only say the issue kept bubbling to the front of my mind. And during the 6½ years I spent as Prime Minister, it never fell from the top of my agenda. I visited Northern Ireland more often than any of my predecessors and more frequently than any other part of the UK. I held meetings beyond number with leaders of the main Northern Ireland Parties at Westminster and special interest groups at Westminster and in Belfast. Some were interminable. Some were friendly. Some were raucous. Some were hopeful. Some ended in people walking out. All were necessary. It was a panorama of protest and progress.

    Invariably, I was struck by one common perception. It was the distinction between the warmth and charm of most of the politicians and community leaders I met, and the depth and viciousness of the rivalries that divided them. In Northern Ireland itself that perception was magnified. Yet, from Belfast to Derry, from Ian Paisley’s Antrim to Jim Molyneaux’s Lagan Valley to the SDLP constituencies of John Hume and his colleagues, there came a message demanding peace and a readiness to support action to achieve it. Only the evil of bigotry and deep-rooted hatred slowed down the process.

    From the beginning, Albert Reynolds and I had similar objectives, although our preferred means of achieving them were often far apart. We had many agreements and some rows. Both of us sometimes operated on a short fuse lit by frustration at the obstacles to progress. Sometimes the climate was frosty and mutual frustration evident. But our disagreements were political never personal and Albert became – and remains – a friend I cherish. As did his successor, John Bruton, with whom I enjoyed a more equable but equally fruitful working relationship.

    At the time of the Warrington bomb, I was optimistic about movement from the IRA. It was – ironically – the very day a message from me had been delivered to Martin McGuinness. The bomb was a bleak response and suggested my optimism was misplaced. I considered whether we should break off negotiations but decided against it for many reasons – some hard headed and practical, others more personal and emotional.

    If we abandoned our attempt at peace, I wondered, what legacy would that be for Tim and Johnathan? Would it not be a cop-out, a striking of an attitude, because to continue would be a political risk. If we did so, how many other innocents would have their lives cut short? How many other families would be left to grieve?

    Would breaking off negotiations simply lead to entrenched attitudes and encourage more violence?

    More positively, if we were to continue with our efforts, would not the instinctive reaction of horror following Warrington help box-in and isolate the men of violence? I thought so.

    So did Albert Reynolds and he, too, was keen to continue. We were both aware of the warped mentality of the hard men of the IRA: if they negotiated at all they guarded their backs by showing their volunteers they did so from “a position of strength”. In their coded language, this meant after an atrocity. In essence they were saying to their members “How can you think we’re going soft – we’ve just blown someone up.” The commonly held view after Warrington: that negotiations were failing and would not proceed, was a misjudgement. It was more likely that negotiations would make progress now that the IRA had shown their volunteers in the most violent way possible that they were not weakening. They hammered home their point with a further bomb at Bishopsgate a few weeks later which cost yet another life and much destruction of property.

    Perverse – of course. Cynical – certainly. Wicked – beyond doubt. But what motivated both Albert Reynolds and me was the hope that we might prevent more bombs and return normality to Northern Ireland and the mainland. The IRA had tried violence for 30 years. It had failed. It would always fail. They now knew bombs would never drive the British from Northern Ireland. They had no realistic choice other than to seek a political settlement.

    In the early nineties, the Peace Process was controversial. Many supported it. Many others – in and out of the British Cabinet – did not: they preferred the posture of “no talks until the IRA lay down their arms” which on the face of it seemed to be a strong and decisive position but in practice was not. Such a policy could only lead to a stand-off, with no progress at all, continuing violence and everlasting anti-British propaganda. I thought such a laissez-faire policy was short-sighted and wrong. In fact, it was no policy at all. I was fortunate that both my Northern Ireland Secretaries of State, Peter Brooke and Paddy Mayhew, shared my view – and continued to do so even after the IRA unleashed a mortar attack on Downing Street in 1991 in an attempt to kill the British Prime Minister and as many of the Cabinet as possible. The mortar landed in the Garden of Number 10. A few feet closer and there would most certainly have been fatalities.

    The Labour and Lib-Dem Opposition front benches were supportive of a peace process and, with rare forays into criticism, remained so throughout my term of office. In turn, I have supported the present Government’s efforts and have kept my counsel even when I believed mistakes had been made, as – no doubt – they did for me: maintaining the momentum for peace was – and is – the only objective.

    The causes of the Northern Ireland troubles lie deep in history and have been exacerbated by generations of distrust, recrimination, hatred and out-of-date tribal attitudes. Although the roots may be ancient, the perceived inequity of the old Stormont Parliament, and the divisive gulf between Unionist and Republican aspirations has kept mutual loathing burning brightly. Until the Northern Ireland Assembly was formed, politicians were literally irresponsible – they had no responsibility in government for decision-making at all – nothing to force them to reach a pragmatic rapprochement. That need was vital which is why elections and the establishment of the Northern Ireland Assembly was so important and its suspension last Autumn such a setback.

    Despite ongoing difficulties, I have always been an optimist about Northern Ireland. There will be a settlement because there must be. If one looks back through the avenue of the past three decades or so there are many reasons to justify that optimism. The clamour for normality from the majority of people in Northern Ireland has grown ever louder.

    The Women’s Peace Movement was conceived and led bravely, and showed both Loyalist and Republican hard men that the majority of people in their communities opposed violence and wanted a better, more peaceful future. Other grass roots organisations like FAIT – Families Against Intimidation and Terror – showed their distaste at the brutal behaviour of the paramilitaries. They were brave campaigners in a good cause. The public anger at atrocities – Warrenpoint, Greysteel, Warrington, so many of them – also drove that point home. The Downing Street Declaration, the Framework Document which laid the basis for the important Belfast Agreement, the ceasefires, the work of the Mitchell Commission, all were a response to the demand for normality.

    Of course, “the troubles” are not just political and nor is the solution to them. There are those in the IRA and the Protestant Groups for whom the nature of the political settlement is all important: but there are many others in these movements for whom criminality sheltering behind a political cause is quite simply a way of life. Such men, and women, have no wish for a settlement, no wish for peace, will do everything in their power to frustrate it and, if it were achieved, might peel off to join ever-more extreme splinter groups. They will be isolated by a political settlement. But until it comes they will oppose it. These people – forever arguing, disputing, deceiving and distrusting – are one of the fundamental reasons why political agreements have been so hard to achieve. But when that political agreement is finally reached – and it will be – these remnants of humanity will be seen for the violent criminals they are and be isolated, caught and punished.

    To many it is baffling that – so long after the Peace Process began – there is still no settlement. I am not in the least surprised. First, because as I have just said, some people are working from within against a solution; and second, because that elusive solution is wrapped in layer upon layer of complexity.

    There are two words that bedevil a settlement: “distrust” and “decommissioning”. Historically, in Northern Ireland politics, nearly everyone has distrusted nearly everyone else.

    The Unionists distrusted the Republicans.

    The Republicans distrusted the Unionists.

    Sinn Fein and the SDLP distrusted British Governments.

    The UUP and DUP distrusted Irish Governments – and one another.

    The paramilitaries distrusted most politicians and all authority.

    The authorities distrusted the paramilitaries and their political spokesmen.

    I could go on – but you get the picture.

    Distrust breeds fear. More especially, it breeds a fear of making concessions and encourages everyone to hunker down in their established positions.

    It is for this reason that successive British and Irish Governments have made policy changes aimed at confidence-boosting in the hope of encouraging reciprocal gestures. Sometimes they have met with success whilst on other occasions they have been rebuffed. Thus, the process inches along – often at a snail’s pace. It was always going to be that way.

    By far the biggest stumbling block is decommissioning – the removal of weapons from the political debate. Seemingly straightforward but, in fact, far from it. Decommissioning is – and this will seem contradictory – both essential to the peace process and a red herring. Let me set out why this is so by considering the divergent views.

    Protestant politicians and their communities must have decommissioning as a sign of good faith and a guarantee that the gun will not enter into Irish politics again in the future.

    The British and Irish Governments, responsible Northern Ireland politicians and the public as a whole share that view and would warmly welcome decommissioning.

    It is what they have long sought. For them, it would signal a certainty that the conflict which has haunted them for so long is finally coming to an end.

    For the paramilitaries, it is more complex. The Loyalists – whose very name is a misnomer, for their loyalty is more to anti-Catholicism, anti-Republicanism and anti-Southern Irish sentiment than loyalty to the British Crown – embrace many splinter groups often at war with each another. When they offer decommissioning, it is primarily as a lure to the IRA. Any disarming from them is but a token gesture and any weapons surrendered can be replaced easily.

    The IRA has a deep-rooted conviction that is difficult to overcome. Their philosophy is that “the movement” never surrenders. They argue that no paramilitary group has ever given up its arms unilaterally and many in the IRA bitterly oppose any move to do so. I once tried to make it easier for them by suggesting they could destroy their own weapons. No-one was asking them to hand them over to the British Army or to be destroyed in public. I was content for there to be independent verification of destruction and made clear I would not mind if the twisted metal was used to fashion a statue of Eamon de Valera. The present Government take the same position. But the IRA’s suspicion of the motives of British Government is deep rooted and lingers on: the response from them has been minimal.

    Even so, the IRA – like the Loyalists – toy with token decommissioning for public relations purposes. Such gestures are helpful but much more will be needed – not least to convince Unionists to return to the Northern Ireland Assembly and remain there. The underlying situation is not easy: the paramilitaries of the IRA have a psychological block to de-commissioning and Unionists have no reason to trust them until they have disarmed. Decommissioning is, therefore, essential though movement towards acceptance of this truth has been very stately: as though one were viewing events through a slow motion camera.

    The irony is that the surrendering of weapons, so vital to confidence, may turn out to be a red herring, for not all may be delivered up and, even if they were, more can be purchased readily. It’s a Catch 22: disarmament is a touchstone of good faith and yet, if it occurs, it may not turn out to be the guarantee of peace that is sought.

    One unintended – and unwelcome – side effect of progress in the Peace Process is the impact it seems to be having on voting intentions in Northern Ireland. As progress is made, voter support rises for the more extreme political alternatives – Sinn Fein and the DUP – and diminishes the political base of the UUP and the SDLP, who have striven hardest for an agreement. It is a perverse situation.

    The most obvious loser is the SDLP – for so long the beneficiary of support from the moderate majority of Catholic/Republican sentiment. As Sinn Fein becomes less extreme, more mainstream, takes part in the work of the Assembly, sloganises about peace, becomes a more visible daily presence, it begins to appear a more relevant political party than the well-meaning SDLP. The UUP faces the risk of decline for more complex reasons. First, internal disputes and continual sniping at their leader (always a recipe to turn off the electorate); second, the easy criticism that can be levelled at the inevitable compromises and pragmatism of Government. Evaporation of support for the latter point is particularly galling since – outside of autocratic dictatorships – pragmatism is an essential ingredient of democratic Government.

    And yet, in the 1980s and 1990s, a mode of argument arose that pragmatism was weak, had no spine, and that only unblinking pursuit of pre-determined motives represented strong Government. The argument is nonsense of course but it seduced many people to its cause and its divisive impact is apparent still – not least in the DUP’s assault on the voting support of the Ulster Unionists.

    The road towards peace in NI has been the work of many hands. Politicians from a range of political persuasions, men of religion – both Catholic and Protestant, Civil Servants in London, Dublin and Belfast, many brave individuals, distinguished foreigners serving on Commissions, the EU and successive US Governments. All have had an input.

    So have events, some of them tragic. I have spoken already of domestic tragedies but the wicked terrorism in Oklahoma, New York and Washington brought home to the US the pain and the horror of violence for political ends. So did the sight of the IRA being caught red-handed in collaboration with terrorists in Colombia. All this helped dry up funding for terrorist groups and helped push them towards a political settlement.

    Curbing economic deprivations is an important ingredient in cutting away the support structures of the paramilitary groups. What does terrorism feed on? Hatred and bigotry, of course. But not only that. It fuels up on resentment as well. It feeds on deprivations and poor living standards. People with little or nothing to lose can often be attracted to desperate causes. Terrorism gives a focus to their lives.

    So the pursuit of growth and success of the economy in the Republic of Ireland is vital in every way and the British Government needs to focus on the deprived areas of Northern Ireland that – perversely – so often provide comfort to the men of violence, whose behaviour frightens away the investment that can provide jobs and improve living standards for the community as a whole.

    Today – although there is still serious deprivation in Shankill and West Belfast, the overall economic situation is greatly improved – much is happening that is good. Unemployment – very high for decades – is now in single figures across the Province as a whole, with the centre of Belfast flourishing as it enjoys substantial redevelopment. All this should be engendering confidence.

    But an improving economy must by matched by political normality. “Normality” for Northern Ireland must include an active role for the devolved Assembly. This is vital.

    It is vital – because responsibility for policy breeds a responsible attitude. That is why I wished to see an Assembly established: I believed it would provide a vehicle for Protestant and Republican politicians to sit together and take joint responsibility for their society. The idea had already been in my mind when it was suggested to me by Ian Paisley; it was rejected as a “back-door Stormont” by John Hume; it intrigued the then Taoiseach John Bruton but infuriated the Foreign Minister, Dick Spring; it was deeply controversial and yet made a good deal of sense.

    Once established, the Assembly was moderately successful. Old opponents worked together, albeit often disagreeing face to face and using the Assembly for Party political purposes, but also delivering new policy and benefits to Northern Ireland. More important is what the Assembly could – and should – do: namely, frame fresh economic and social policies to curb the ills of generations, encourage inward and domestic investment, and bring together divided communities.

    Instead, the Assembly has been suspended following violence from all sides and a general lack of confidence in collective goodwill. As ever in Northern Ireland, the events leading to suspension had all the elements of Greek theatre: challenges to David Trimble from the ruling Council of the UUP, the raiding of Sinn Fein offices by the police investigating intelligence gathering by Republicans, and the arrest of a senior Sinn Fein figure accused of having documents of use to terrorists. It is easy to see why there was a collapse of confidence.

    The need now is to rebuild the Assembly which is why the British and Irish Prime Ministers have met twice recently at Hillsborough to plan the way forward.

    I understand these meetings made good progress although, as ever, the Parties needed time to consider proposals and consult their grassroots before giving approval. Soon, the two Prime Ministers will meet again to publish their proposals to finalise implementation of the Belfast Agreement and repair the damage to it of recent events.

    A settlement – with goodwill, and an outbreak of trust – could be tantalisingly close and, if achieved, would lead to the progressive withdrawal of troops from Northern Ireland, the monitoring of ceasefires, new policing arrangements, human rights changes and the return of the Assembly.

    We need also, the end of all preparations for paramilitary activity by Loyalists and Republicans alike. The end of paramilitary will being enforced on the streets. Above all – again and again – the restoration of trust.

    But all may yet hang upon the destruction of arms. When a family has suffered a loss of life the psychological effect is very great: often there needs to be a period of “closure” before life can resume its normal pattern and peace of mind be re-established. Almost everyone who has lived through the death of a beloved family member or friend understands that emotional movement: from agony – to acceptance – to normality.

    The peace movement needs “closure” too: in this case “closure” is the destruction of arms. No one knows for sure how many weapons there are – especially in the hands of the IRA, the dominant paramilitary group – but the sum total is significant. It is probable that there are many tons of explosives in secret caches, together with heavy weaponry, rifles and handguns. All are a threat to peace of mind as well as peace on the streets and must be verifiably destroyed or surrendered.

    There is a second element to closure. In 1991 I was sitting in the Cabinet Room of Downing Street on a grey November afternoon when a message was brought into me. It had come through a secret channel of communication opened in 1990 and was from the Provisional Army Council of the IRA. I was convinced then – and remain convinced – that it was approved also by Martin McGuinness – though I should add for the record that he has always denied it. In any event, the message was dramatic.

    It said:

    “The conflict is over but we need your [British] advice on how to bring it to a close. We wish to have an unannounced ceasefire in order to hold a dialogue leading to peace. We cannot announce such a move as it will lead to confusion to the volunteers, because the press will misinterpret it as a surrender. We cannot meet the Secretary of State’s public renunciation of violence, but it would be given privately as long as we were sure that we were not being tricked.”

    The conflict is over. That message helped persuade me to continue on with the Peace Process and, in the following ten years under successive Governments, we have come to be in sight of the end of the Northern Ireland tragedy. The blood that has been spilled requires that end to be secured.

    So – we need such a statement again – this time open and acknowledged. The war is over. These are words that the people of Northern Ireland have waited too long to hear. I hope they will not need to wait much longer. There is a place in history for those Irish leaders prepared to turn those words into reality. I know the British and Irish Governments will respond to such a declaration and a new era can be ushered in for Northern Ireland.

    Let me return to Tim and Johnathan in whose memory we are here tonight. Were their lives wasted?

    In one sense – yes: for they should have been here today – young men on the threshold of life with so much to experience and so much to give.

    But, in another sense, the loss of these young lives – and the pain and agony of their families – bears another interpretation. It shook the world. Forced it to think afresh. Closed down options for the men of violence. Impacted deep on the demands for peace. Led to the foundation of this Peace Centre. They are both – forever – an important landmark in the agonisingly slow movement from a path of hatred and violence in Northern Ireland to a now probable future of tolerance, compassion and hope.

    Let that forever be their epitaph.

  • Mr Major’s Article on HRH The Prince of Wales – 17 March 2003

    The text of Mr Major’s article on HRH The Prince of Wales, published on 17th March 2003.

    JOHN MAJOR:

    Over recent weeks, much printer’s ink has been spilled over Sir Michael Peat’s inquiry into alleged misconduct within St James’s Palace. The pursuit of HRH The Prince of Wales has been unrelenting. It is also unjust.

    Some of the wilder comments even predicted revelations that would shake the Monarchy itself. Others pre-judged the internal inquiry, and condemned it as a “whitewash”.

    The reality, as any dispassionate reader must acknowledge, is that – throughout – the report is concise, detailed, comprehensive and critical. It acknowledges mistakes – some of them serious – but puts them in a proper context that illustrates how disproportionate much of the criticism has been. The report is cathartic and should help prevent future controversy. Sir Michael has done his job well and Prince Charles is wise to have accepted his recommendations in full.

    Unlike many of his critics, I know the Prince of Wales. He is a man who cares, sometimes too much. He has a social conscience that can be uncomfortable in an heir to the Throne. His forthright views on architecture and the rural community lead him into controversy but there are as many who share his views as oppose them.

    He does lobby Ministers – and Prime Ministers – but always within the bounds of propriety and, in my own experience, in support of very good causes. His charitable work is not simply a duty but, especially in the case of The Prince’s Trust, a commitment that matters to him greatly. He is not – and cannot be – above criticism. But some critics go too far. Their excessive zeal has wider ramifications than their personal criticism of the Prince.

    There is a scene in the original film of “Goodbye, Mr Chips” in which Chips muses on the habit of exaggeration of one of his pupils: apparently the boy was apt to exaggerate a nought to a nine in his Latin marks. Similar exaggeration is often apparent in the lack of sympathy or understanding offered to Prince Charles with much of it magnified by the belief that an hereditary Monarchy is contrary to the spirit of the times in our egalitarian age.

    Such a belief, though often peddled subliminally, does much to belittle the Monarchy. There is, for some, an agenda here: if Members of the Royal Family are undermined, then the Institution of the Monarchy itself begins to wither in public affection. I do not argue for the Royal Family to be above criticism, nor to be deferred to as a matter of course (having been raised in Brixton, I am myself a product of our egalitarian age) but I do ask for a sense of balance. I ask for any criticism to be just. For it not to be exaggerated. Nor, sometimes, invented. And for shortcomings to be weighed alongside virtues.

    I am a Monarchist and I care for the Institution of Monarchy. I believe our country would be changed immeasurably for the worse if we were to become a Presidency. I see the intellectual case for such a change but reject it absolutely. Its advocacy is most often heard in the Westminster-Whitehall beltway but, like so much of that chatter, it is not an argument that resonates in the towns and villages of our nation.

    One day, Prince Charles will be our King and the embodiment of the Monarchy. Around the world, he will be the symbol of our nation. In due time, Prince William will succeed him. This is the hope and expectation of the vast majority of our nation. There are only a very few who wish to see the unique fabric of our country damaged and the legacy of Monarchy wrecked – chipped away by innuendo and condemned to death by a thousand smears.

    As Heir to the Throne, the role of any Prince of Wales is difficult. If he has views and expresses them publicly he is in danger of infringing his constitutional obligation to steer clear of controversy. Of course, he should not be seen to oppose Government policy – but nor, in a mature society, should every nuance of advocacy be seen as a political statement. If his observations are merely of the motherhood and apple pie variety, he is parodied for being without substance or, worse, ignored. If he remains silent, his critics are all too ready to pounce, claiming he has no purpose. For the Prince himself, it must be frustrating beyond measure.

    Times are changing for the Monarchy: deference to it is out of fashion and so is tolerance of any human failings within it. But we, the public, can’t have it both ways. If we change our expectation of and attitude towards the Monarchy, then we must accept that they – in turn – must be allowed greater freedom of public expression and action than hitherto. Why should they not have the right to the tolerance so freely offered to others?

    Let us suppose, for a moment, that the Prince of Wales were a Commoner. What would we see? A sensitive man, with no malice and much good intent. A man who takes an active interest in several hundred charities to benefit the young, the old, minority groups and the arts. A man who – almost thirty years ago – established his own charity, focused on helping the least privileged in our society: The Prince’s Trust (now the UK’s leading youth charity) has thus far helped almost half a million youngsters to overcome personal hardship or unfortunate circumstance. A man who shares, with so many of his fellow citizens, the pain of a failed marriage but who in the midst of his share of responsibility for that failure has retained the love and affection of his children. A man who has dedicated his life to the country he was born to serve.

    The Prince of Wales has honoured that obligation with compassion, tolerance of human failing and a wish to support those most in need. We, as a nation, should at the very least extend to him a similar courtesy.

  • Mr Major’s Article on Iraq – 19 February 2003

    The text of Mr Major’s article on Iraq, published in House Magazine on 19th February 2003.

    JOHN MAJOR:

    It looks like war but it is not yet unavoidable: Saddam could back down or be deposed, or accept an offer of sanctuary although, sadly, none of these options is likely. President Bush could not – and will not – back down and, with one-quarter of the British Army committed, nor can Britain.

    It is a natural human emotion to oppose war but action against Iraq is not precipitate. Iraq has been ignoring the UN for twelve years and continues to do so despite clear knowledge of the consequences. She has chemical, biological and conventional weapons and has not shrunk from using chemical weapons on her own people. She is feared as a threat to stability in the region and may have links with terrorist organisations. The longer the delay in disarming her the greater her strength may become, not least in developing a nuclear capability: and if Saddam is seen to face down the most powerful nation in the world, his prestige in the Middle East will be given an enormous boost.

    If it does come to military action, the United States will win. Iraq, with her massive but ill-equipped Army, cannot withstand the most powerful military force the world has ever seen. The US spends more on defence than the next nine high spending nations added together – and such power is irresistible.

    But the fact that the US will prevail militarily is one of the few certainties that lie ahead. The danger of Saddam unrestrained is well understood but the short and long term risks in restraining him have had little public airing.

    But these risks are stark. In the short term, there is the dangerous situation that arises as Saddam is faced with a war he cannot win and the near-certainty that he will be deposed. This is very different from the Gulf War. Then, Iraq was to be evicted from Kuwait. Now, although Resolution 1441 does not specify regime change, it seems almost certain that Saddam and his Government will be removed from power unless they disarm voluntarily. Since, notwithstanding their defeat in the Gulf War, the regime has remained in power sustained by the Republican Guard and the feared Secret Police, the chance of them stealing away quietly seems an unlikely option. We must, therefore, presume that we may have an unstable and threatened man at bay: what may he do?

    At worst, there is the risk that Saddam, believing he has nothing to lose, will use all his arsenal in the forthcoming conflict including biological and chemical weapons. If so, what would be his target? It could be the invading Army. Or he could attack Saudi Arabia for being staunch allies of the US and as revenge for the Saudis’ financing of the Gulf War. Or, of course, his target could be Tel Aviv in order to draw Israel into the war in the hope of maximising Arab support. He will be likely to use conventional weapons to set alight the Iraqi oil wells in an attempt to maximise economic chaos. He would justify this latter act of destruction by deploying the populist but misguided view that the aim of the US is to control Iraqi oil. He may also seek to contaminate or set alight oil wells in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait.

    He might also leave as his legacy a gift of weapons of mass destruction to terror groups so that they might strike against the US and her allies for years to come. This, of course, assumes he has not already done so. None of these scenarios may come about but none dare be ignored.

    We must plan also for what may happen in Iraq itself once the immediate battle is over. There may well be chaos, near civil war, revenge taking and the onset of anarchy.

    At the end of the Gulf War in 1991, a Shi’ite uprising began and may do so again once US and other ground troops begin to get the upper hand. Such an uprising could even include Baghdad where there is a large Shia population. Last time, the strife was brutally put down by the Republican Guard. Over the years, hundreds of thousands of Shi’ites have been killed by Saddam’s regime. As a result, Shi’ites in the holy cities – Najaf, Basra, Karbala – have old scores to settle and will not be merciful to their Sunni enemies. The US and her allies may arrive as liberators but be compelled to remain as peace-keepers.

    The US may also have a task to keep Iraq as one entity since, as in 1991, there is a subliminal suspicion among many Arabs that one war aim might be to dismember it. This is not so but, were it to happen, it would inflame suspicion and hostility throughout the region. In the North, the Kurds could well manoeuvre for an independent Kurdistan, a long cherished aim. It is highly unlikely to come about – the US, Turkey and Iran will all oppose it – but the wily Kurds will be pushing for it and this may well add to the post war cocktail of chaos.

    And what happens post Saddam? What nature of Government is likely to take power? Another ‘strong man’ is unattractive for he may be as bad as Saddam. The US would have great difficulty in governing Iraq and, no doubt during a UN supervised interlude, there will be efforts to form a new Iraqi Government.

    This will not be easy and the replacement Government may not be benign: the concept of a Western style democracy can be dismissed. In practice, voting by clan would mean power would pass from the less-than-20% Sunni minority to the overwhelming Shi’ite majority. This would be bitterly resisted by both Sunnis and Kurds. Even if any new Government is dressed up in some form of regional representation and minority involvement, it would still be dominated by the Shi’a. We would awaken to a Shi’ite Iraq alongside a Shi’ite Iran which would harbour ambitions to dominate the Gulf. At first, their eyes would turn to the Shi’ite communities in Bahrain and the Eastern Province of Saudi Arabia. The Gulf States would tremble and their tremors would reverberate throughout the region.

    The destruction of the whole hideous apparatus of Saddam’s regime has an aftermath with ramifications far beyond Iraq. It would be folly beyond belief to plan only for a swift and successful war followed by a smooth transfer of power. It may be not all these problems will arise – but some surely will. We must prepare for the many problems ahead for it would be ironic to win the war only to lose the peace.

    Yet if the US and Britain are to win the peace, they must win hearts and minds for their cause. This will not be easy. The cause is not popular in the Arab world and, unlike 1990/1, there is no Arab coalition for the war. There is little or no regional support for it either. Instead, there is resentment and suspicion of the motives of the US and Britain with many voices claiming the war to come has more to do with Imperialism and Oil than disarmament. Although these charges are unfounded and wrong, they are deeply felt and damaging. To help minimise opposition and build long term support, the US and Britain must have their plans ready for the reconstruction of a war damaged Iraq; for the renovation of her already-declining oil industry which they must make clear will be left in Iraqi hands; for the provision of food, water and medicine to a population that will be grievously short of all such necessities; and for dealing with an exodus of refugees to neighbouring countries.

    The advocates of war cite the need for Churchillian resolve for their enterprise – and they are right. But when the fighting is done, they will need another Churchillian virtue – magnanimity – or Iraq will sink into despair and the Moslem world will grow still further in hostility to the West. If that were to be the outcome it would be a calamitous setback in the war against terror.

    It may be easy to win the war: it will not be easy to win the peace.

  • Mr Major’s Article on Iraq – 19 February 2003

    The text of Mr Major’s article on Iraq, published in House Magazine on 19th February 2003.

    JOHN MAJOR:

    It looks like war but it is not yet unavoidable: Saddam could back down or be deposed, or accept an offer of sanctuary although, sadly, none of these options is likely. President Bush could not – and will not – back down and, with one-quarter of the British Army committed, nor can Britain.

    It is a natural human emotion to oppose war but action against Iraq is not precipitate. Iraq has been ignoring the UN for twelve years and continues to do so despite clear knowledge of the consequences. She has chemical, biological and conventional weapons and has not shrunk from using chemical weapons on her own people. She is feared as a threat to stability in the region and may have links with terrorist organisations. The longer the delay in disarming her the greater her strength may become, not least in developing a nuclear capability: and if Saddam is seen to face down the most powerful nation in the world, his prestige in the Middle East will be given an enormous boost.

    If it does come to military action, the United States will win. Iraq, with her massive but ill-equipped Army, cannot withstand the most powerful military force the world has ever seen. The US spends more on defence than the next nine high spending nations added together – and such power is irresistible.

    But the fact that the US will prevail militarily is one of the few certainties that lie ahead. The danger of Saddam unrestrained is well understood but the short and long term risks in restraining him have had little public airing.

    But these risks are stark. In the short term, there is the dangerous situation that arises as Saddam is faced with a war he cannot win and the near-certainty that he will be deposed. This is very different from the Gulf War. Then, Iraq was to be evicted from Kuwait. Now, although Resolution 1441 does not specify regime change, it seems almost certain that Saddam and his Government will be removed from power unless they disarm voluntarily. Since, notwithstanding their defeat in the Gulf War, the regime has remained in power sustained by the Republican Guard and the feared Secret Police, the chance of them stealing away quietly seems an unlikely option. We must, therefore, presume that we may have an unstable and threatened man at bay: what may he do?

    At worst, there is the risk that Saddam, believing he has nothing to lose, will use all his arsenal in the forthcoming conflict including biological and chemical weapons. If so, what would be his target? It could be the invading Army. Or he could attack Saudi Arabia for being staunch allies of the US and as revenge for the Saudis’ financing of the Gulf War. Or, of course, his target could be Tel Aviv in order to draw Israel into the war in the hope of maximising Arab support. He will be likely to use conventional weapons to set alight the Iraqi oil wells in an attempt to maximise economic chaos. He would justify this latter act of destruction by deploying the populist but misguided view that the aim of the US is to control Iraqi oil. He may also seek to contaminate or set alight oil wells in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait.

    He might also leave as his legacy a gift of weapons of mass destruction to terror groups so that they might strike against the US and her allies for years to come. This, of course, assumes he has not already done so. None of these scenarios may come about but none dare be ignored.

    We must plan also for what may happen in Iraq itself once the immediate battle is over. There may well be chaos, near civil war, revenge taking and the onset of anarchy.

    At the end of the Gulf War in 1991, a Shi’ite uprising began and may do so again once US and other ground troops begin to get the upper hand. Such an uprising could even include Baghdad where there is a large Shia population. Last time, the strife was brutally put down by the Republican Guard. Over the years, hundreds of thousands of Shi’ites have been killed by Saddam’s regime. As a result, Shi’ites in the holy cities – Najaf, Basra, Karbala – have old scores to settle and will not be merciful to their Sunni enemies. The US and her allies may arrive as liberators but be compelled to remain as peace-keepers.

    The US may also have a task to keep Iraq as one entity since, as in 1991, there is a subliminal suspicion among many Arabs that one war aim might be to dismember it. This is not so but, were it to happen, it would inflame suspicion and hostility throughout the region. In the North, the Kurds could well manoeuvre for an independent Kurdistan, a long cherished aim. It is highly unlikely to come about – the US, Turkey and Iran will all oppose it – but the wily Kurds will be pushing for it and this may well add to the post war cocktail of chaos.

    And what happens post Saddam? What nature of Government is likely to take power? Another ‘strong man’ is unattractive for he may be as bad as Saddam. The US would have great difficulty in governing Iraq and, no doubt during a UN supervised interlude, there will be efforts to form a new Iraqi Government.

    This will not be easy and the replacement Government may not be benign: the concept of a Western style democracy can be dismissed. In practice, voting by clan would mean power would pass from the less-than-20% Sunni minority to the overwhelming Shi’ite majority. This would be bitterly resisted by both Sunnis and Kurds. Even if any new Government is dressed up in some form of regional representation and minority involvement, it would still be dominated by the Shi’a. We would awaken to a Shi’ite Iraq alongside a Shi’ite Iran which would harbour ambitions to dominate the Gulf. At first, their eyes would turn to the Shi’ite communities in Bahrain and the Eastern Province of Saudi Arabia. The Gulf States would tremble and their tremors would reverberate throughout the region.

    The destruction of the whole hideous apparatus of Saddam’s regime has an aftermath with ramifications far beyond Iraq. It would be folly beyond belief to plan only for a swift and successful war followed by a smooth transfer of power. It may be not all these problems will arise – but some surely will. We must prepare for the many problems ahead for it would be ironic to win the war only to lose the peace.

    Yet if the US and Britain are to win the peace, they must win hearts and minds for their cause. This will not be easy. The cause is not popular in the Arab world and, unlike 1990/1, there is no Arab coalition for the war. There is little or no regional support for it either. Instead, there is resentment and suspicion of the motives of the US and Britain with many voices claiming the war to come has more to do with Imperialism and Oil than disarmament. Although these charges are unfounded and wrong, they are deeply felt and damaging. To help minimise opposition and build long term support, the US and Britain must have their plans ready for the reconstruction of a war damaged Iraq; for the renovation of her already-declining oil industry which they must make clear will be left in Iraqi hands; for the provision of food, water and medicine to a population that will be grievously short of all such necessities; and for dealing with an exodus of refugees to neighbouring countries.

    The advocates of war cite the need for Churchillian resolve for their enterprise – and they are right. But when the fighting is done, they will need another Churchillian virtue – magnanimity – or Iraq will sink into despair and the Moslem world will grow still further in hostility to the West. If that were to be the outcome it would be a calamitous setback in the war against terror.

    It may be easy to win the war: it will not be easy to win the peace.

  • Mr Major’s Speech at the Frank Worrell Lecture – 2 May 2002

    Below is the text of John Major’s speech at the Frank Worrell Lecture, held in Barbados on Thursday 2nd May 2002.

    JOHN MAJOR:
    It is a great pleasure to be here this evening to deliver a Lecture in honour of Sir Frank Worrell. I’d like to thank the UWI/Barclays for inviting me – and the British electorate for making it possible for me to accept.
    This is the 9th Frank Worrell Lecture. It is also a personal anniversary for me: five years ago, this very day, was my last as Prime Minister.
    Inside 10 Downing Street I took my leave of officials. Outside the famous front door I bade farewell to the media. I waited upon The Queen at Buckingham Palace to tender my resignation – and then hurried from there to Kennington Oval to watch some cricket with my family.
    It seemed to me that life had come full circle. As a boy, I had watched cricket and dreamed of politics: that afternoon, as the dream drew to a close, I watched cricket.
    On the morrow of political defeat, cricket was the same soothing balm to me as it had been so often before. I said something of this sort to my companions on the Committee Room balcony and was rewarded with the tale of the great actor, Boris Karloff, watching cricket from the same spot. “Are you enjoying it, Mr Karloff?” he was asked. “Wonderful” he boomed, “I think I have died and gone to heaven”.
    Five years on, I have not gone to heaven – except in the metaphorical sense that I am here in Barbados and looking forward to enjoying the Test at the Kensington Oval.
    I was never a good cricketer and even some of my best moments were tinged with farce – so unlike politics you may think. My last innings was in Nigeria, in my early twenties, during the Biafran war when a plane bringing the weekly post landed. Unfortunately, it landed at Square Leg and the game was over. That was bad news.
    The good news was that I had three letters. But the bad news was that they were all bills. The worse news was that one was for the bat with which I would now never score a hundred. Days later, a disagreement between a car and a mountain, with me in the middle, left me a permanent spectator.
    Cricket has always been an important part of my life. Yet there are many pessimists about the game. As long ago as 1932, C.P. Snow was complaining: “These days, a man of taste can only go to an empty ground and regret the past!”. The same dreary view can often be heard today.
    For some, the past is always the Golden Age. Neville Cardus once wrote of falling asleep at Lords to the complaints of an elderly spectator that cricket “wasn’t what it used to be”. He awoke to see Larwood bowling to Hammond. Anyone who dozes off at Bridgetown could well awake to see Tendulkar and Lara on the same pitch.
    Of course cricket has changed – it would be surprising if it hadn’t. Some of the changes we may not like: slower over rates for example.
    Others we do, such as the vast improvement in fielding. But we should view the past in perspective: probably the three greatest teams in the history of cricket belong to the last sixty years.
    Which teams, I wonder, from any golden age could have beaten the 1948 Australians, the 1970s/80s West Indies or the Australian team (again) in the late 1990s?
    Off-field, the greatest challenge is the financing of cricket: whereas professional cricket was once funded overwhelmingly by gate receipts it is viable now only with the support of corporate sponsorship, television receipts and the revenues of Test Cricket.
    As a result, there is more Test Cricket than ever before and yet – perversely – for the professional players, a gap has opened up between their salaries – and those for other sports.
    Here is the Catch-22: too much Test cricket and familiarity will lessen its attraction. Too little and the finances of the game will become more fragile. No-one should envy the cricket administrators who must deal with this conundrum.
    To widen the appeal of the game, we must protect those aspects of cricket that make it unique. These go far beyond simple enjoyment. C.L.R. James, argued that – for the West Indies – cricket had a magic that was a guiding light for the dispossessed and the disenfranchised. From a polar opposite political position, Lord Harris argued that cricket upheld the values of the far from dispossessed or disenfranchised middle class in Victorian England.
    Clearly, cricket touches deep and conflicting emotions in both our countries, and provides an added value to society. The Ancient Greeks understood the value of games and it is a pity that over the intervening thousands of years we have not built on their example. It is a good time to do so and I shall focus my theme on cricket.
    From the earliest days of Alfred Mynn to W.G. Grace, cricket has been built on personality. Find a Bradman, find a Sobers and the game will flourish. Some cricketers, famous in their pomp, fade with the passing of time. Their day done, their memory is laid gently to rest until they are quite forgotten. But the elite grow in the memory. Their reputation is enhanced.
    One such is Frank Worrell. Not just because he was a great cricketer. Or because he was a great captain. Both of those things, of course. but also because, during a time of strife, he did much to unite black and white opinion. I fancy Don Bradman was not only thinking of cricket when he eulogised him as – I paraphrase: “a fine thinker with a broad outlook”.
    It is universally acknowledged that Frank Worrell was a fine man. That elemental cricket force, Sir Leary Constantine tells us more: Frank Worrell – the thirteenth West Indian captain – was superstitious. Bowled first ball in a game in Australia, he changed every item of clothing for the second innings, only to be bowled first ball again. I’m sure Clyde Walcott intended to tease rather than console when he asked: “Why do I always face a hat-trick when I follow you?”.
    When people talk of Frank Worrell some ancestral folk memory makes them smile. Perhaps it was his serenity: even maintained at moments of high drama – such as the Australian Test at Brisbane, forty years ago, when Joe Solomon ran out Ian Meckiff to bring about the most famous tie in all Test history. The smile at his memory is a smile of affection.
    He was one of a trinity. Everton Weekes, Frank Worrell and Clyde Walcott. Of an age, born only a few miles apart, all Barbadians, all world class batsmen and all honoured with a Knighthood for the way they played the game. It is a story unique in the annals of cricket: we have never seen its like before and may never do so again. Not even Alexandre Dumas would have had the temerity to conjure up such a trio. Athos, Porthos and Aramis may have been heroes – but they couldn’t bat.
    My memory of West Indies cricket stretches back – just – to the 1950’s Tourists: to hundreds by Alan Rae as well as the “Ws”. I was too young to see that team play but, even as a seven year old, I followed every match in detail. I will turn to the immortal Lords Test of that year a little later.
    I did see the 1957 team. I saw Frank Worrell open the batting and the bowling in a Test at Trent Bridge when he carried his bat through the innings for 191 – not even my comic book heroes in the “Rover” and the “Wizard” were able to produce such a dazzling performance.
    It would be unwise – perhaps even reckless – to admit to a Barbadian audience that one of my fondest cricketing memories is the epic May-Cowdrey partnership of 411 to save a Test match against the West Indies in 1957. In self-defence, let me add that it was a backs-to-the-wall effort employing bat and, in Colin’s case pads, to deny Sonny Ramadhin after Collie Smith had scored a majestic 161 in a partnership of nearly 200 with Frank Worrell.
    On that tour I had my first sight of Gary Sobers and Wes Hall – and I knew the West Indies would be a formidable cricketing power for years to come. What I did not know, of course, is what lay over the horizon: Clive Lloyd, Gordon Greenidge, Desmond Haynes, Viv Richards, Michael Marshall, Michael Holding, Courtney Walsh, Curtly Ambrose, Lance Gibbs – and so many others: all fine players in a long and golden period for West Indies cricket.
    But let me go back to my belief that cricket touches the emotions. I myself saw it do so. In the 1950s I moved, with my parents, elder brother and sister to two rooms on the fourth floor of an old Victorian house in Brixton, South London. As accommodation, it was not much but, at the time, we were lucky to have it. My father, whose business had failed, was over 70, sick and nearly blind and my mother, although much younger, was in poor health. My family had no money. We were in debt. My mother often had to borrow so we could eat – but we were not alone in our predicament.
    The 1950s and 60s was a time of massive immigration to England from the West Indies, and most of the new Britons settled in Brixton. The house we lived in was, for a time, multi-occupied and multi-racial and provided a good primer on poverty for a future Conservative Prime Minister. I knew the immigrants as neighbours. I lived with them. I played with their children. I shopped in Brixton market – just as they did. I saw them for what they were: men and women seeking opportunity and a new life in a land immeasurably more wealthy than the one they had left behind.
    Others, more fearful, more suspicious, saw them in a harsher light. They feared for their jobs and their livelihoods. They were frightened of a turmoil of change in their neighbourhoods. Bigots and foolish men inflamed these fears. Pessimists predicted trouble. Brixton became a powder-keg of racial discontent. People waited for it to blow. Waited for the riots, the lawlessness. They waited in vain. The new Britons settled in. The dire predictions of conflict proved to be wrong.
    In my youthful innocence, I wasn’t surprised. Instead of inciting fear, the bigots and pessimists should have gone to The Kennington Oval where, when the West Indies played, it was carnival time: the atmosphere was noisy and full of fun as the crowd enjoyed glorious days of cricket. For those in the packed ground, the painful reality of life in Brixton was put aside, even though at close of play it was still there. Prejudice and hardship were daily companions to the new Brixtonians. Dr Johnson, who knew London 200 years earlier had it right:
    “This mournful truth is everywhere confessed. Slow rises worth, by poverty depressed”.
    Slow rises worth – but it did rise. And the West Indies’ cricket, the way they played and the way the team conducted themselves in victory, did much to help. In 1950, they took on England at her own game, in her own country, at the very headquarters of cricket.
    And they beat her on merit. Perhaps no win in cricket ever had such social significance as Ramadhin and Valentine’s destruction of England at Lord’s. A big hundred by Clyde Walcott set it up: it was then won by the charm and guile of the cricketing sophisticates’ delight: the art of great spin bowling. It was intelligent cricket – the West Indies out-thought England as well as out-played them. As a result, all West Indians walked a little taller in their tough lives because their national cricket team had lifted their morale. No wonder the calypso rang out: “Cricket, lovely cricket, indeed!”.
    It is the classic illustration of the power of cricket. It can uplift whole communities – whole nations even – or cast them down. And, because cricket is played in the mind, because it reflects the society from which the cricketers spring, it can imprint the character of that nation indelibly upon the minds of those who watch the way in which their national team play.
    Other sport has this effect up to a point, but cricket has it to a very high degree: it is why the attractive nature of West Indies cricket is so distinctive from that of an English, Australian, or Sri Lankan team.
    When I drove from the airport two days ago I passed the Gary Sobers roundabout – I assume a racehorse, a betting shop and a putting green will be added shortly – and also the Everton Weekes, Frank Worrell and Clyde Walcott roundabouts. Here is an unbuttoned nation that gives cricket a proper priority. In England, we give such roundabouts uninspiring and sometimes unspeakably awful names.
    Since sport can have such a dynamic effect upon a community and can spring so much from the very core of a nation it is puzzling that the opportunities it offers are so rarely taken advantage of, and it so often falls off the social agenda of Governments.
    Why is this? Many politicians love sport. Your first Lecturer, Michael Manley, wrote a distinguished history of West Indies cricket. Yet Michael Manley is among the exceptions: too often, the merits of sport are ignored by the statesman. He seems to have a puritanical instinct that relegates sport to a subordinate interest, as mere entertainment, as optional and unworthy of his interest and involvement. He misses its wider significance. He prefers gravity to gaiety. Fun is beneath his eyeline.
    It shouldn’t be. Sport matters and we should use it wisely. For sport not only uplifts, it can set an example to society – a fact I wish today’s “sledgers” and “false appealers” and “non-walkers” would remember. Once more, that 1950’s game at Lord’s illustrates the point.
    I moved to Brixton soon after this great game and observed its long legacy. When I played street cricket against lamp-posts, West Indian boys tried to spin soft balls on the unresponsive pavement. It did not bother them that the ball had no seam: they still tried to spin it. They wished to bowl like Sonny Ramadhin and Alf Valentine and as they played they believed they were Ramadhin and Valentine. It was a vivid illustration that the impressionable young will copy their heroes, which places a responsibility upon those they imitate that Frank Worrell exemplified to perfection.
    It will not be easy to upgrade sport within the priorities of Government. We mustn’t be naive: Government must weigh sport against the creation of jobs, health, education, social security, domestic infrastructure and much else besides. Their task is not easy but I believe more can be done that will help sport and Governments.
    Children immersed in sport are not causing trouble on the streets. Children immersed in sport are less likely to be involved in drugs and crime. Such children can see that someone is supervising them, caring for them and making it possible for them to pursue an activity which they enjoy. Sport is a good social bargain for any community.
    Some argue that Governments shouldn’t concern themselves with something so transitory as sport. That, to do so, is the modern equivalent of Roman bread and circuses. Moreover, they argue that if there is a demand for it, the market will provide. It is puritanism run wild but up to a point it is true. But only up to a point.
    The market won’t provide sporting facilities for children at school or for villages or minor clubs. It’s not commercial to do so. Certainly, in the UK, the market hasn’t provided for the residents, young or old, of the inner cities – many of whom are West Indian. And those residents have lost something of real social benefit.
    I believe children have a right to sport and leisure. They are as important components to their development as literature and mathematics and – for most children – likely to give them some of the happiest memories of their childhood.
    Even now – fifty years on – which of us cannot remember the sheer joy of putting linseed oil on a real bat, wearing whites, padding up and stepping out onto the pitch? I wouldn’t deny that pleasure to any child.
    It is a cliche to say that the future of cricket requires the affiliation of the young, but that doesn’t make it untrue: we need them as players and we need them as spectators. Only by exposing children to the joy of cricket – even if they have no aptitude for it – can we inspire a love of the game. The long-term health of cricket requires the lifelong affection of the child who can’t play as well as the skills of those who can. And that affection must be won against the attractions, not only of other sport, but the television age and the computer revolution which offer powerful non-sporting, non-team-playing, non-character-forming challenges to outdoor recreation.
    Once, cricket was an escape from obscurity to fame, poverty to comfort, exclusion to inclusion. These motives are less strong today. These days, each successive generation of young has a greater choice of how to spend their leisure time: once cricket and soccer were unchallenged recreations – but no longer. So we cricket-lovers must ask: how do we attract and develop future talent to our game?
    As a boy, in one way, Frank Worrell was lucky. At Combermere School, the Administrator, the Reverend “Buff” Armstrong treated sport as seriously as he did academic studies.
    Quite right too: children need both. The young Worrell was exposed to scholar-athletes. He played in the First XI and hence, in those days, against high class opposition at the age of 13. Even earlier, at the age of 9, he was bowling his left-arm spinners to top class batsmen in the nets. No wonder this precocious talent blossomed.
    When Prime Minister, I sought to raise money for sport and other good causes by establishing a National Lottery. For doing so, I was assailed on all fronts. The Churches hated it: they attacked me for encouraging gambling. The Football Pools hated it: they attacked me for costing them money. The Press hated it: they attacked me out of habit. Very few spoke out in support. Fortunately, I got my way. My passion for cricket was well known and no-one stood in the way of it.
    My colleagues had seen how notes of the up-to-date Test score were brought into Cabinet Meetings every few minutes. When this ritual first began the Deputy Prime Minister, Michael Heseltine, was baffled. He witnessed the progress of the notes: Prime Minister, Cabinet Secretary, Chancellor of the Exchequer – and feared some kind of currency crisis.
    After a while, his self-restraint snapped and he asked to see one of the notes: it was a crisis: England 27-2 after 10 overs. Michael was utterly bewildered but then, for all his virtues, he’s no cricketer.
    And so the Lottery went ahead – and, thus far, has raised around £2,000m for sport at all levels: the money has gone to village greens, for cricket nets and rollers, to youth teams and club teams, as well as to the re-building of our national grounds.
    Together with other initiatives from cricket authorities, it has helped ensure that more people are playing cricket in England today than for generations.
    And this is despite the decline in school cricket. Here, I know, I did less than I should. I should have acted more comprehensively on sport in schools when I had the power to do so and know it now with all the clarity that comes to those who review their mistakes with honesty.
    Today, a gifted sportsman leaving school and seeking either a career – or simple enjoyment – has more sporting choices than ever before – witness the upsurge in popularity of soccer, tennis, golf, rugby or, in the West Indies, basketball and baseball. All of these are an alternative to cricket and – with the possible exception of rugby – all offer far more financial rewards to the talented sportsman. All these games are of value but I do believe that cricket may offer wider social rewards than any of them.
    Many years ago that great cricketer, Prince Ranjitsingh, analysed a cricket crowd:
    “There are all sorts and conditions of men around the ropes – bricklayers, bank clerks, soldiers, postmen and stockbrokers. And in the pavilion are QCs, artists, Archdeacons and leader writers. Bad men, good men, workers and idlers are all there and all at one in their keen-ness over the game … cricket brings the most opposite characters and the most diverse lives together”.
    Here is the value: to a remarkable extent, cricket is cohesive – not divisive.
    Again, I saw myself that Ranjitsingh was right. In the mid-1990s Nelson Mandela invited me to speak to the South African Parliament for the first post-Apartheid visit of a British Prime Minister.
    I took with me some famous sporting personalities and we visited Soweto. Colin Cowdrey and Alec Stewart presided over cricket nets. That wonderful athlete Judy Simpson held a masterclass in athletics. Bobby Charlton demonstrated his mastery of football. In the nets, I bowled Steve Tshwete, the South African Sports Minister, first ball. All Soweto turned out and the sports stars were mobbed – but cricket held sway, except for one small boy.
    He had been coached on hurdling by Judy Simpson and told to practice all the time. He was then on cricket coached by Colin Cowdrey. “I’ll practice night and day, Mr Cowdrey”, the boy promised. “No” said a horrified Colin, “you must get plenty of sleep too”. And he put down his cricket bat and began hurdling over it.
    As the boy walked away shaking his head, I heard him mutter: “The cricket man says I’ve got to sleep. Cricket must be for sissies”.
    That apart, during those hours in Soweto there was a bursting out of sheer, exuberant joy amidst hardship. Never doubt the healing properties of sport.
    So – let us recognise – the social case for cricket is a convincing one. It can uplift the morale of communities – even nations; it can imprint national characteristics favourably – even on a hostile mind; it is a good social bargain; it has socially healing properties; and can provide icons for the young to follow.
    If you doubt that cricket has these characteristics, doubt it touches the deeper instincts of people, then reflect a moment: are the streets ever aflame with excitement over a politician’s triumph in negotiating a Treaty, or a businessman’s success in winning a contract? I think not. No calypsos are written about such triumphs. Can you imagine a calypso: “Treaty, lovely Treaty” or “Contract, lovely contract”. Hardly. Nor are Treaties or contracts the talk of the streets, the workplace or the town bars. But a Test victory can be quite another matter. It is argued over endlessly, pored over, even gloated over.
    Those of us who love cricket must help cast its spell in the future. It won’t be easy: cricket faces many rivals for its eminent position in the world of sport. It is a game that, in its finest expression, takes five days to complete and – even then – may end without a result.
    I said this to President Bush – the father – once and his eyes glazed over. I said it to Boris Yeltsin too, over a large cup of vodka and his eyes glazed over too – although that could well have been the vodka.
    So, in our age of instant gratification, cricket is not an easy sell to the public.
    And, yet, to secure cricket’s future, we must attract that public. If interest falls, sponsorship falls, gate money falls – and the game falls.
    To encourage interest, cricket administrators have become ever more creative and some of their changes have become crowd-pullers: in particular, One Day cricket. Even a 20-Over version of the game is to be launched to attract the young. Day-Night games, coloured clothing, white balls may all upset the traditionalist but are an attempt to attract a new audience.
    Even technology, in a haphazard way, has entered the game. Once we pretended to believe that umpires were infallible or that their rare mistakes evened out over time. “Frank Chester never made mistakes”, one old Test player said to me. No doubt Mr Chester was a great umpire but yes he did – although his mistakes weren’t caught on film. The pitiless eye of the slow motion camera, replayed time after time, now exposes the fallibility of modern umpires in a way their predecessors never faced. As a result, many important games are marked by outcries against poor decisions, especially if they turn the outcome of the game. I sometimes think Steve Bucknor takes so long to make a decision in the hope that the film will fade.
    Pity the poor umpire: the pressure on him grows constantly both on the pitch – where aggressive appealing has become an unattractive art form and “walking” a lost art – and from television. The philosophical argument over whether we should use electronic aids seemed at the outset to be finely balanced. The traditionalist said “no”; the modernists said “yes”.
    Although my heart is with the traditionalist, my head says the argument was lost the moment technology was used for the first time. There is no logic at all in a situation in which umpires are saved from poor run-out decisions but offered no assistance with LBWs or feather-touch snicks behind the wicket.
    If the umpire is entitled to verify some decisions with technological aids, then why should he not, at his discretion, be able to verify all? Anything less is simply a lottery, unsettling to the players and infuriating for the spectator who sees within seconds on the slow-motion television replay whether the correct decision was made. In the last year, several Test Matches have been won or lost by decisions we know to have been wrong.
    Some will argue that a reliance on technology belittles the authority of the umpire. I disagree. What belittles authority is a decision that is self-evidently wrong. The best of umpires – say David Shephard or Steve Bucknor – give a high percentage of fine decisions – but even they are not infallible and with around two dozen camera positions around the ground, replays in close-up, stump cameras, microphones, snickometers and tramlines, any wrong decision is soon given massive exposure. It would take but seconds for the on-field umpire – and again, I re-emphasise at his discretion – to confer with the third umpire to cut down the majority of errors. The game, I think, would be the winner and spectators and players alike far less frustrated. It should also cut out the unattractive sight of on-field dissent and attempts to pressurise the umpire.
    Elsewhere, the on-field umpires might be given more unfettered power: Are the laws on bad light fair? Should the choice of whether to leave the field continue to be offered to batsmen – since it is exercised, more often than not, upon the state of the game and not the light. Or should the umpires be given absolute discretion?
    Similar considerations apply in limited overs games where the side fielding first may be penalised for a slow over rate by having overs deducted from their batting time. Should not the umpires have some sanction upon the side fielding second if their progress is tardy?
    And should we not also look again at infringements to the spirit of cricket? Ball tampering, sledging, over-aggressive appealing – often downright, dishonest appealing – pressurising of umpires, all of which are the small change of unsportsmanlike behaviour. In these days of greater financial rewards for success, some cricketers regard such behaviour as acceptable. I don’t: at its worst, it’s cheating and I believe it costs cricket support.
    So, more vividly, does evidence of corruption. The impetus for corruption is fraud: to fix bets for financial gain. We shouldn’t pretend this is new. Betting, together with breweries, were the prime motors for the growth of the game in England in the 19th century and no doubt there was a lot of malpractice then. But, until recently, we believed cricket was clean and it has been shocking to discover that it is not.
    All this is fatal to a game where the spirit in which it is played is as important to its most avid followers as the result. To retain those followers, cricket must root out those who mar the reputation of the game. And, as they do so, cricket authorities must beware of being too loud in their criticism of the misdemeanours of “foreign” players, yet too “understanding” of those committed by members of their own teams. The ICC needs to rule upon this problem, publish penalties for misbehaviour – and insist they are enforced, irrespective of the identity of the miscreant.
    Once, cricket was an English game. Now it belongs to many countries. Around the world, one in every two spectators is an Indian – a less startling statistic than it seems when one considers the massive population of India compared to other cricket-playing nations.
    The West Indies are an important part of cricket history and cricket has returned the compliment: cricket has been an important strand in the self-determination of the West Indies Islands.
    The game of cricket today is a far cry from the age of humbug when W.G. Grace pocketed large fees for playing cricket at the same time he symbolised and promoted the concept of the Gentleman Amateur. We have moved on from the age when, in England, the Captain, the Amateurs and the Professional players all used different dressing rooms and stepped onto the pitch through separate gates. Somehow, these images symbolise days now past.
    CONCLUSION
    In our more egalitarian age, cricket can still hold up a reflective light upon our times: we must ensure it reflects the best of our times, not the worst.
    As we strive to do so, the life of Frank Worrell still has much to offer us. Although it was cruelly cut short his memory is as potent as ever.
    Tonight, so close to his final resting place, we can say that Frank Worrell isn’t truly gone while we can talk of him and re-live his exploits.
    He isn’t gone while his example remains with us; whilst he lives in the memory of those who knew him; whilst there are still those who can see him as if he were still here and conjure him up for a new generation.
    Frank Worrell is part of the West Indies gift to cricket history. With George Headley, Leary Constantine and George Challenor. And latterly with Malcolm Marshall and Conrad Hunte.
    All of them could only have been West Indian cricketers: they played themselves into the very core of West Indies life and culture and, as they did so, changed the face of cricket far beyond their own Islands.
    We owe it to them to protect the game they loved with such a passion and enriched with such skill and charm. For that, and for much else, we are forever in their debt.

  • Mr Major’s Article in the Wall Street Journal – 25 March 2002

    Below is the text of Mr Major’s article in the Wall Street Journal, published on 25th March 2002.

    JOHN MAJOR:
    All wars are uncertain but some predictions about the outcome of the present conflict can be made safely. When the fighting is at an end, the US and her allies will have won the military conflict. America is the most powerful military force the world has ever seen and the large, but ramshackle, Iraqi defence capability cannot stand before it. Saddam Hussein will be dead or fled or awaiting trial for his many crimes. His sons and other senior advisers will share his fate. The whole apparatus of the Iraqi Government will have gone, together with the upper echelon of the Republican Guard.
    Iraq herself may – dependent upon how the war evolves – be in chaos: at best, she will be in confusion. There will be a shortage of food, water and medicine, and a potentially huge refugee crisis. Civil insurrection is a real risk if the Shias and other victims of Saddam seek to exact retribution on the remnants of a cruel regime that has repressed and murdered them for years. Coalition troops may enter Baghdad as liberators but events may force them to remain as peacekeepers. Ahead of them lies a messy, uncomfortable – and potentially hugely expensive – task.
    And yet, in many ways, even these difficulties pale beside those that must then be faced: How will Iraq be governed? How can the rifts in the UN, the EU, NATO and the transatlantic alliance be healed? And – most delicate of all – how can relations be repaired with a large part of the Islamic world that, by the day, becomes ever more suspicious of the motives of the US and Britain?
    Such suspicions are misguided and foolish but potent. They are a hymn of hate for the US and Britain and their echo can be heard in market places throughout the Moslem world. The common belief is that the coalition has an agenda to dismember Iraq and control its oil; that the war has more to do with Imperialism and aggression than liberation and self-defence. Nonsense though this is, it is a fear which will not be dispelled by words alone which is why the actions of America and Britain will be scrutinised so carefully in the months ahead.
    Whatever the immediate post-war arrangements for governing Iraq may be – probably a Military Governorship – it is desirable for the UN to be involved as swiftly as possible in any interim Administration. Some sounding board for local opinion – perhaps a Consultative Council representing the main tribal interests – should also be put in place. This will be uncomfortable and rancorous since the views of the Sunnis, Shias and Kurds are unlikely to be as one, but the effort must be made – and be seen to be made. It is important, too, that Arab opinion accepts beyond any doubt that the present territorial borders of Iraq are sacrosanct and that the management and ownership of oil will remain in Iraqi hands.
    The establishment of any longer-term Government in Iraq is fraught with difficulty. Iraq is not a natural democracy. The depth of bitterness between Sunnis, Shias and Kurds is such that any “grand coalition” is improbable to the point of absurdity. Yet, unless Military Governorship or UN Administration is to be lengthy we must anticipate a legitimate Government that may reflect the numerical dominance of the Shia tribe who make up over 60% of the population. Such a majority Government would install a Shia Iraq beside a Shia Iran which is an uncomfortable omen. Saudi Arabia is one of many countries that will look uneasily at the future if collaboration between these two countries were to become likely.
    One of Saddam’s more baleful legacies will be rifts between the coalition partners and France, Germany, Russia and China – as well as with mainstream opinion across the Islamic world. It will require Statesmanship, and a generosity of spirit, to quell the fears that give rise to these divisions. But it would be foolish to let them fester: an effort at reconciliation must be made or we will all come to regret it.
    There is a menu of healing actions from which we can choose. We must be generous to post-war Iraq in her travails. We would be wise to consult Arab opinion – the Arab League and the Gulf Co-Operation Council for example – about how to reconstitute a free and democratic Iraq. We should discuss our plans with the EU, China and Russia and seek their active political support: we may, after all, need them to open up their wallets as well. As we do so, we should not neglect the views of our allies, Australia, Spain, Japan prominent among them. In victory, magnanimity may heal many wounds.
    President Bush has already announced his intention to move forward on the issue that is, above all, the poison in the well of relations with Islam: Palestine.
    The strong support that the US and Britain has given to Israel is based on admiration for a talented nation that has overcome many ills with courage and fortitude yet still finds herself in a hostile environment. And yet, that support rankles with many in the Moslem world who see it as one-sided and look on with dismay at the truly pitiable position of the Palestinians.
    In the post-Saddam era, Israel will be safer and it is time for President Bush to take Mr Sharon and Mr Arafat by the elbows and demand progress.
    Both sides need a settlement. Israel needs security and Palestine needs a future. An active Peace Process is vital – for without one there is a vacuum into which terror and mayhem steps too readily.
    After the Gulf War in 1991, the Madrid Conference held out hope for the future. It faded. Now, something similar is needed. The forthcoming “Road Map” offers hope once more, but this will only be realised if it is accompanied by action and a route to political progress. There will be a need, too, for economic assistance for the embryonic Palestinian State, for a land without hope breeds only resentment. There are many donors – in and beyond the Middle East – who might be expected to contribute.
    No-one should expect trust to spring forth from suspicion. It will not be easy to wrong out the compromises that both Israel and the Palestinians must make. But, perversely, war over Iraq provides an impetus for peace in Palestine: the prize is very great indeed.
    The removal of Saddam’s odious regime could change the face of the Middle East, but a settlement of the Arab-Israel dispute would assuredly do so. It will be a tragedy if such an opportunity is not grasped with an open heart and a ready will.

  • Mr Major’s Letter to the Daily Telegraph – 1 August 2001

    The text of Mr Major’s letter to the Daily Telegraph on the subject of Foot and Mouth, published on 1st August 2001.

    JOHN MAJOR:

    Dear Sir,

    The cull of some 4,000 sheep at Brecon is a depressing reminder that Foot and Mouth is far from over. A second cull has now been ordered.

    More culls seem possible, perhaps even probable.

    After the BSE epidemic I took advice and demurred at the prospect of a Public as opposed to a Private Inquiry. In 1997, the new Labour Government decided differently. In the event the Public Inquiry produced – albeit after a long time – an excellent Report with valuable lessons for the future. In addition it knocked down much of the lurid scapegoating that had caused so much anguish to Officials and Ministers struggling, as they were, with unknown science.

    With Foot and Mouth, of course, the science is familiar, yet we now have the longest and worst outbreak in our history. The Government seems to believe that a full Public Inquiry is not necessary and that, if they delay committing themselves to one, the demand for it will subside.

    I disagree. It is evident that the recommendations given and lessons learned following the 1967 Inquiry have not been applied to the present epidemic and that Ministers’ and Officials’ advice has repeatedly proved to be wrong. This alone is sufficient justification for a Public Inquiry: why has so much gone wrong?

    It is becoming the set belief of many country dwellers that action on Foot and Mouth has been geared more to the political interests of the Labour Government than to the economic interests of farmers and the rural community.

    There was to be a General Election on 3rd May. It was essential, we were told, to avoid Britain being seen as “closed for business”. I warned there should be no election until we were certain Foot and Mouth had been eradicated, not least since the Government’s term had a further year to run. As public disquiet mounted, the proposed election date was shelved. We were told the Prime Minister was acting in the “national interest”. The Prime Minister took personal control and told us we were on the home straight. It was a glaring example of mis-information. The only home straight we were on was the one that led to the 7th June election.

    If political self interest did predominate – and I stress if – then it was indefensible. This is a further reason for a full and comprehensive Inquiry to determine what solid fact and expectation underpinned those public assurances that have, in the event, proved to be so worthless.
    We need to learn fresh lessons from this outbreak. How did it occur? Why did it spread so widely? Why is it lingering so long? Why were troops used so late and the carcass disposal instructions so confused? Why was vaccination thought of, rejected, and now under consideration again? This is by no means a comprehensive set of the questions to be answered: there are so many more.

    I am content for the Prime Minister to take advice on the precise nature of the Inquiry but he should commit himself to it without delay and ensure that it will be held fully in public. Our rural communities – both present and future – deserve no less.

    Yours faithfully,
    JOHN MAJOR.