Charles Moore Charles Moore

The Spectator’s Notes | 11 April 2013

It is strange how we are never ready for events which are, in principle, certain. The media have prepared for Margaret Thatcher’s death for years, and yet there was a rushed, improvised quality to much of the coverage when she actually did die. We have a curious habit of all saying the same thing, and feeling comforted by that, when really it is our job to say as many different things as possible. The BBC, which Mrs Thatcher, and even more Denis, detested, has been straining itself to be fair, but fairly bursting with frustration in the attempt. The way for it to express its subliminal opposition to her is by using the word ‘divisive’ all the time. By day two, this had become its dominant theme. The word is sometimes right, but at the BBC it has become a device by which the opinions of extreme critics can be bigged up against those of more sympathetic people. Film after archive film shows policemen banging riot shields before whacking bravely striking miners/black youths/poll tax protesters. The fact that 100 left-wing maniacs show off by celebrating her death in Brixton is put on a par with the genuine affection and respect shown by millions and the more measured criticisms of decent people. There is a counter-case, almost unheard, that, in some areas, Mrs Thatcher did bring the Franciscan harmony of which she famously spoke on the steps of No. 10. Take days lost to strikes — from 29,000,000 in 1979 down to fewer than 2,000,000 by 1990. Most of the greatest violence and bitterness, which began before she came to office, continued only as long as her success was in doubt. When, after Scargill and Wapping, she won, it stopped.

I must admit to the same mental unpreparedness as everyone else. In terms of the timing of my authorised biography of Mrs Thatcher, volume one of which will appear on St George’s Day, I was more or less ready.

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