By Michael Barone
Thursday, April 11, 2013
"Divisive." That's a word that appeared, often
prominently, in many news stories reporting the death of former British Prime
Minister Margaret Thatcher.
One senses the writers' disapproval. You're not likely to
find "divisive" in stories reporting the deaths of liberal leaders,
although every electoral politician divides voters.
"Divisive" here refers to something specific.
It was Margaret Thatcher's special genius that she systematically rejected the
conventional wisdom, almost always well-intentioned, of the political
establishment.
Instead, she insisted on hard, uncomfortable truths.
British Conservatives like Harold Macmillan accepted the
tyranny of trade unionism because they had guilty memories of the slaughter of
the working-class men who served under them in the trenches in World War I.
Thatcher, who as an adolescent before World War II saved
money to pay for a Jewish girl to escape from Austria to England, felt no such
guilt.
She could see that strikes of shipyard workers, auto
union members, newspaper printers, gravediggers and garbage collectors were
ruining Britain's economy and undermining democratic governance.
She worked hard and patiently, building up coal
inventories, to prevent the year-long illegal coal miners' strike led by Arthur
Scargill from shutting down the nation's power plants.
She rejected the idea, fostered by the great and the good
of the British ruling class, that ordinary people needed public housing.
Instead, she let them buy their houses at favorable rates.
She rejected the conventional wisdom that government had
to pay for money-losing nationalized industries. Instead she privatized coal,
steel, utilities, and transport, and let employees and citizens buy shares in
them and partake of the profits.
When Argentina's military dictators occupied the Falkland
Islands, she was urged to accept the result. The Falklands were far away, and
only 1,800 Britons were affected.
But for Thatcher, they were part of the British nation.
She would no more allow them to be thrust under a dictator's heel than she
would allow Irish Republican Army terrorists to force Britain out of Northern
Ireland against the will of the majority there.
Much has been made, and rightly, of Thatcher's closeness
to Ronald Reagan -- though they did have their disagreements. They both hated
communism and Soviet tyranny.
But first Thatcher and then Reagan perceived that Mikhail
Gorbachev was, in Thatcher's words, "someone we can do business
with." The result was a peaceful end to the Cold War.
When Thatcher became prime minister in 1979, the
consensus was that Britain was in inevitable decline. She hated that idea and
proved that it was wrong. The great and the good never forgave her.
They never forgave her either for her suspicion of an
ever-closer European Union and opposition to the creation of the Euro currency.
Continental elites saw European unity as a way to prevent
the horrors of another world war. American elites assumed a United States of
Europe would be as benign as the United States of America.
Margaret Thatcher disagreed. She believed that the
nation-state, with its long heritage of shared values, democratic governance
and economic practices, was the essential unit in politics and economics.
A single European currency, she argued, could not work in
a continent whose nations had different economies, cultures and traditions.
In her 1993 and 1995 autobiographies, Joe Weisenthal
points out in Business Insider, she recounts the arguments she pressed on her
successor, John Major.
She noted that Germany "would be worried about the
weakening of anti-inflation policies" and that the poorer countries would
seek subsidies "if they were going to lose their ability to compete on the
basis of a currency that reflected their economic performance."
This has worked out exactly as she expected and warned.
Fortunately for Britain, Thatcher's successors were stopped, perhaps fearing
her disapproval, from ditching the pound and lurching into the euro as the
great and good almost unanimously advised.
"Crunchiness brings wealth," wrote the
Economist's Nico Colchester. "Wealth leads to sogginess. Sogginess brings
poverty. Poverty creates crunchiness."
By crunchiness he meant "systems, in which small
changes have big effects, leaving those affected by them in no doubt whether
they are up or down." In contrast, "Sogginess is comfortable
uncertainty."
Margaret Thatcher was crunchiness personified; that is
what reporters are referring to when they say she was "divisive."
Her death is a reminder that elites revel in sogginess
and that every nation needs a restorative dose of crunchiness from time to
time. Britain got hers from Margaret Thatcher.
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