UK’s Mr Sensible

Date: 17/10/1996

AS far as the rest of Europe is concerned, the acceptable face of the British Conservative Party has the mischievous features of Kenneth Clarke.

Those twinkling eyes, ruddy-complexioned jowls and chummy-complexioned vowels have been known to radiate almost healing properties around the table in the Council of Ministers.

When the rest of the UK seems intent on Euro-suicide, when the Tory Party seems to have been taken over by hysterical little Englanders and when even that nice John Major seems to be on the Euro-turn, along comes Ken with a slap on the back, a quick wink and a plainly-put word or two to pacify the despairing.

If he could, Ken would lead them all out of the Justus Lipsius building when the going got too rough, and troop down to the local pub for a pint or two and a gossip about better times.

In fact, as far as anyone can remember, the chancellor is the only government minister from any member state who has ever expressed a desire to nip into the centre of Brussels after a day in the Council in search of a couple of beers.

He was health secretary then, a rising star under Margaret Thatcher, destined, like any emerging political heavyweight, to be analysed as much for his crumpled suits and suede shoes as his right-left leanings and effectiveness, or otherwise, in office.

The occasional large cigar gives him another couple of points on the credibility meter, because the public and the media appreciate a few weaknesses in their leaders.

But Kenneth Clarke QC MP is not what he appears to be.

What he appears to be is Ken, an affable used-car salesman who is not prepared to lower his price - no way - but will, just this once, throw in the radio-cassette and, alright then (with a chuckle), a full tank of petrol too, just to seal the deal. And maybe a pint afterwards, if you have the time, before heading home.

What Kenneth Clarke is really is a Nottingham-born, Cambridge-educated lawyer, whose academic achievements, sharp mind and high-flying political career have not dulled his common touch.

His social habits would set alarm bells ringing in any Europhile administration on the continent where a profile of the stereotypical British Euro-enemy is pinned to the wall: a decent drop of real ale, a hearty Sunday lunch of English roast beef, a game of football or cricket, and a night in a modern jazz club - although not all at the same time. The chancellor of the exchequer has even been seen driving a red souped-up Ford Escort, without shame, in public. He also thoroughly enjoys a quiet day bird-watching. He has simple, straightforward tastes and views.

By all appearances then, Ken, as opposed to Kenneth, should be a dyed-in-the-wool Eurosceptic, manning the coastal barricades to keep out foreigners and resist the tide of federalism.

But although Ken is genuine, so is Kenneth, and the compromise works: Ken(neth) Clarke QC MP is a true blue fish-and-chip, prawn-cocktail-flavoured crisp, tea-and-biscuits Brit, but one who has no doubt that the future lies in a Europe where all of the above are treated with mild amusement.

Clarke is the kind of Brit foreigners like, and his increasingly vocal support for the welding of the UK to the rest of the EU has warmed the hearts of finance ministries across Europe.

It is just a shame, they say, that he is not prime minister. This, however, misses the point. The two are mutually exclusive: with views like his, Clarke could never be Tory leader.

Indeed, the calls for his departure from high office were, until his barnstorming performance at the party's conference last week, growing louder with every passing week - although an imminent general election and a loyal boss should see him through to polling day.

His EU counterparts certainly hope so. As one Danish Council official put it, Clarke is seen as “unusually helpful” by British standards.

“In discussions, he is unlike his predecessor (Norman Lamont) who was always sceptical and often irritated by European attitudes,” he added.

“Clarke is more willing to take part, although obviously in a more detached way than people from the core countries,” said a Belgian admirer.

Clarke's first visit to the United States cemented his pro-European views, by all accounts. When he saw the economic and political might of the US at first hand, he became committed to a close union between the UK and the rest of Europe, as a vital antidote to American domination.

Clarke was already an assistant government whip when the then Prime Minister Ted Heath nursed the European Bill on UK membership of the Union through the House of Commons.

He has been there ever since, from the days when his own party espoused the European ideal to when, under Margaret Thatcher in the Eighties, it turned Europe into an ogre.

Clarke has climbed the political career ladder as steadily as the argument over Europe has grown for more than 20 years. In opposition, he was spokesman on social services and then on industry in the early days of the UK's EU membership. When the Tories regained power in 1979, Clarke moved to transport and then, in 1982, to his first junior ministerial post in charge of health. In 1985 he gained a seat in the cabinet as paymaster-general, responsible for employment policies at the department of employment.

The junior trade and industry portfolio followed, then high office as health secretary, followed by education, moving into one of the top three cabinet posts in 1992 as home secretary. His sudden promotion to chancellor of the exchequer came when Norman Lamont was sacked.

Since then, he has presided over an economy which he now matter-of-factly describes as the most successful in western Europe.

Naturally, the chancellor has been in the front line of the battle over the single currency and has found himself struggling to square his own political and economic instincts with those of a party increasingly at the mercy of the Eurosceptics.

Clarke's stock with the Tory anti-Europeans was further dented last month when he was credited with preventing the collapse of the European exchange rate mechanism in the midst of the 1993 currency crisis. According to an authoritative French book, it was he who insisted that the system be maintained, when others were prepared to abandon it. To lose the ERM, Clarke reportedly told the rest, would be “an historic defeat”.

It was a brave stance for a Tory minister, let alone the chancellor.

But while Major has felt obliged to take heed of the swelling chorus opposed to ditching sterling, and thus the last vestiges of national sovereignty, Clarke has walked a tightrope - and never more so than at last week's Tory Party conference in Bournemouth.

“I am totally against a United States of Europe,” Clarke insisted publicly on the morning of his set-piece speech on the economy.

But he, like the Eurosceptics, is playing with words. He is firmly in favour of what they would call a United States of Europe. He is equally in favour of what they would call a federal Europe.

Clarke's favourite repost when challenged over his views reflects his common touch. “What I said was perfectly sensible,” he is inclined to retort - a simplistic message which has burrowed through the prickly undergrowth of political double-speak and emerged with no more than a few scratches.

Clarke does indeed come across as perfectly sensible, a man whose political vision is tempered with social reality.

The view that if such a decent chap thinks signing up for a single currency is all right, then it must be, is one which the Eurosceptics are scared could gain ground.

That is why they want him out of the way, so that the UK general election can be fought on an uncompromisingly anti-EU ticket.

They see him as a liability, but across the water - and maybe in the English shires too - Clarke is seen as the Tory Party's saving grace.

The last thing the UK's partners want to see, in the event of another Conservative term in office, is Clarke replaced by a sharp-suited smoothy hell-bent on saving the pound for posterity.

They do not care about Clarke's scruffy suits and suede shoes. They do not even care if he turns up at the Council of Ministers with egg on his tie. But such is the fondness for the UK chancellor that they, just as much as he, are anxious that he does not get egg on that very acceptable face of Toryism.