History of England 1-6

The House of Commons Home Affairs Select Committee decided not to recommend a ban on the private ownership of guns; since a massacre had occurred at Dunblane in Scotland only a few weeks previously, the ensuing protests were as inevitable as they were extensive. The shooting of an IRA suspect in the same month only added to the unease. Restrictions on handguns were eventually tightened, but no ban ensued. John Major reaffirmed that all paramilitary activity must cease before Sinn Féin could be invited to participate in further talks. As the prospect of a general election loomed, a reduction of 1 per cent was announced in the basic rate of income tax. It was a token gesture, but the government could promise little else in the circumstances. In December, and amidst further unrest over cash for questions, the Tories lost their majority. The fragility of the government was never more obvious than in January 1997, when it brought two Conservative MPs in an ambulance to attend a vote. The same tactic had of course been employed during the Labour government’s efforts to defeat a noconfidence motion in 1979, but that was in a less squeamish era.

With the loss in February of the South Wirral seat to Labour, the government was left in a parliamentary minority. The armed forces minister, Nicholas Soames, came under pressure to resign, having admitted to ‘very serious failings’ over the MoD’s handling of Gulf War Syndrome. Nor was it a happy year for British justice. The Bridgewater Three, victims of a miscarriage of justice almost twenty years before, were at last released.

This paled beside the furore aroused by the Stephen Lawrence case. Lawrence, a black teenager, had been murdered in 1993 by a gang of five white youths. The cry of ‘What, what, nigger?’ uttered by the youths as they crossed the road to assault their victim might have hinted that the attack was racially motivated, but the police seemed curiously obtuse in that regard. That their own delay in arresting the suspects and their disregard for the testimony of the only witness – also black – might be construed as racist was another possibility to which they seemed oblivious. In a ghastly paradox, there was overwhelming evidence of racially motivated murder but almost no direct evidence against the chief suspects. The errors of procedure committed by the police suggested an attitude that was informed by prejudice. Neville Lawrence, father of Stephen, put it thus in a sombre judgement. ‘When a policeman puts his uniform on, he should forget all his prejudices. If he cannot do that, then he should not be doing the job – because that means that one part of the population is not protected from the likes of those who murdered Stephen.’ After charges against the five were thrown out, Stephen’s parents embarked upon a private prosecution in 1994, but it foundered for lack of evidence. An inquest in February concluded that Lawrence’s death represented ‘an unlawful killing in a completely unprovoked racist attack by five white youths’, but nothing came of this. It fell to the Daily Mail, not known for its championship of the oppressed, to highlight the injustice. The next day, on the front page were shown the faces of the five accused with the stark message ‘Murderers’ above. The Mail then challenged the suspects to sue, but they did not. Justice, of a sort, would be served in the years to come.

By March 1997, the government reeled rather than ruled. Yet its predicament was in some ways puzzling. There was no lack of talent, diligence or goodwill. Equally, however, there was no effective majority, too much self-defeating rhetoric and far too many scandals. A general election was called for 1 May 1997. The government’s decision, though welcomed by the other parties, was overshadowed by the continuing controversy concerning cash for questions. Allan Stewart became the latest in a long line of Conservative politicians to resign over allegations about their private lives. Piers Merchant, however, refused to resign. It seemed as if questions of guilt or innocence were long forgotten – to stitch the tattered robes of credibility with numbed and indifferent fingers was all that could be expected. When the prison ship Weare arrived in Portland Harbour, recalled to ease prison overcrowding, it seemed grimly symbolic.