Instead it
began as expected, with the Hurds, Howes and Archers phoning in their “remarkables” and “historics”, and we were
reminded how she brought down the Berlin Wall and rescued Britain, then an
article in The Times
claimed she was responsible for ending apartheid, and it seemed by today we’d
be hearing she stopped Gibraltar being invaded by Daleks and made our goldfish
feel proud to be British and took 8 for 35 against Australia to win the Ashes.
“Even those who disagreed with her, respected her as a conviction politician”, it was said many times, as if everyone would participate in the mourning. But soon it was impossible to pretend there was a respectful consensus, not because of the odd party in the street, but from a widespread and considered contempt. In many areas it must have been confusing for Jehovah’s Witnesses, as every time they knocked on a door and asked, “Have you heard the good news”, they’d be told “Yes mate, I have, do you want to come in for a beer?”
Before long
came the complaints, such as Tony Blair saying: “Even if you disagree with
someone very strongly, at the moment of their passing you should show some respect.” Presumably then, when Bin Laden was killed, Blair’s statement was: “Although I
didn’t agree with Osama’s policies, he was a conviction terrorist, a colourful
character whose short films were not only fun but educational as well. He will
be sadly missed.”
The
disrespect was inevitable, as millions were opposed to her not because they
disagreed with her, but because she’d helped to ruin their lives. If someone robs your
house, you don’t say: “I disagreed with the burglar’s policy, of tying me to a
chair with gaffer tape and stripping the place bare, even taking the pickled
onions, which I consider to be divisive. But I did admire his convictions.”
For example,
a Chilean woman living in Britain was quoted in The Nation magazine, saying: “The Thatcher
government directly supported Pinochet’s murderous regime, financially, via military
support, even military training. Members of my family were tortured and
murdered under Pinochet, who was one of Thatcher’s closest allies and friend.
Those of us celebrating are the ones who suffered deeply.” Yes, but she was
able to buy shares in British Gas so she was better off in other ways. In so
many areas, the party that insists we show compassion for their departed
heroine made a virtue of showing none when she was their leader. She didn’t
just create unemployment, she gloried in it. Her supporters in the City
revelled in their unearned wealth all the more because they could jeer at those
with nothing.
But this week Thatcher fans have been
unrestrained in their abuse for anyone not displaying “compassion”. Maybe we
should give them the benefit of the doubt and accept they’ve just discovered
it. They’re all going to the doctors saying: “I’ve been getting this strange
sort of caring feeling towards someone who isn’t me. Do I need antibiotics?” If
they’re puzzled as to why there isn’t universal sadness this week, maybe they
should visit Corby. It’s a town that was built in the 1930s, entirely round a
steelworks, and thousands of unemployed Scots moved there for the work. As a
result its people still have a strong Scottish accent, even though it’s in
Northamptonshire.
But in 1980 Margaret Thatcher’s government
shut down most of the steel industry, as part of her plan to break the unions,
and the effect on Corby was like someone taking control of the Lake District
and concreting in the lakes.
I was there to record a radio show about
the town, and met Don and Irene, both in their seventies, at the Grampian Club.
Don’s father had walked to Corby from Larkhall, near Glasgow, in 1932. I
mentioned the steel strike and plant closure to Don, but he gestured as if it
had somehow passed him by. It would have to be mentioned in the show, so I
tried to find someone in the town with a story, an anecdote, something. But no
one wanted to say a thing about it. During the recording, I asked if anyone had
a story to tell from those days, but no one did, until it felt as if the whole
audience collectively passed a motion that went: “I think you’d best move on to
another subject, Mark.”
Afterwards in the bar, Irene told me: “We
weren’t being rude, love, when we didn’t have a lot to say about the closure.
But it wasn’t an easy time. Don marched from Corby to London with a banner. It
made him angry about everything, we split up for a year because it was too much
to live with. But we were lucky, two of our closest friends committed suicide
in the months after the closure. So people would rather forget about those
times really. But apart from that we really enjoyed the show.”
Still, even those who disagree with her
policies, will surely commend her achievements.
Strangely,
it’s now her supporters who are insulting her memory, with a funeral paid for by the taxpayer. Surely it would be more
fitting to leave her where she is, and say: “If you can’t stand on your own two
feet, you can't expect help from the state.”
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