With that said, she proceeded briskly to defend her government's economic policies.
The weekend following, she described the event thus: “We picked ourselves up and sorted ourselves out as all good British people do, and I thought, let us stand together, for we are British.”
85
If anyone was in doubt before this that she could walk the walk as well as she talked the talk, they were not now.
“I remember writing to her afterwards,” recalls John, “saying what an appalling thing it was and how absolutely right she'd been to just let it have no effect at all. And she wrote the most marvelous letter back, I mean, full of sort of ranting and raving about, âThe forces against democracy must never be allowed to triumph,' and that sort of thing. But it was
absolutely
from the heart. And I think again and again one finds, all the time, that the one thing that people knowâwas there was this absolute
lion
heart. Courage. It really was there.”
Miranda nods. This is why she would have done anything for a woman who showed not a bit of graciousness to her.
Even Thatcher's detractors concede her courage. Her charisma, on the other hand, was not a universal emollient. However powerfully it affected her admirers, it was incomprehensible to her adversaries. Bill Clinton's sworn enemies will usually admit,
grudgingly, that there
is
something charming about the man. Not Thatcher's. Kinnock's views are typical.
CB:
Did you like Margaret at all?
NK:
No. [
Emphatic and cold
]
CB:
I see. You
really
didn't like her personally.
NK:
No. She didn't like me, and I didn't like her.
CB:
If you had met her in another context, a social context, not a political context, what kind of reaction do you think you might have had to her?
NK:
Same as most other people.
CB:
Which was?
NK:
That she was cold, arrogant, patronizing, snobbishâ
CB:
Do you have an anecdote . . . can you tell me about something she said that would really bring that alive for me?
NK:
In the week of the Lockerbie disaster, the terrorist sabotage of the 747, quite naturally both she and I went to the memorial service that was held in the village of Lockerbie. And at the service, we went into the church hall to meet the bereaved relatives. And of course there were United States citizens and British, one or two others, but they were the main passengers on the 747. And she said to me, very unusually, “Would you be good enough to come in with me.” Because we'd been to several memorial occasions, and she generally tended to sort of stay apart. Which suited me fine. So I went in with her. She walked up to a group of black Americans. I would say probably servicemen's familiesâ
CB:
âyeah, a lot of servicemenâ
NK:
âsix or seven of them. And she sort of walked up to them, and put her head to one side, which was quite characteristic of her, and said [
absolutely perfect imitation of MT's voice
] “And how many did
you
lose.” [
Snorts in disgust
] I mean, these people didn't know what the hell she was talking
about. Maybe it was her accent. But I was shocked to my roots. I mean, of all the opening questionsâ
how many did you lose?
When the hairy free enterpriseâ
CB:
I'm sorry, which enterprise?
NK:
There was a ship, a ferry, called the
Herald of Free Enterprise,
which was coming out of Zeebrugge harbor in Belgium, and the cargo, the hold doors were opened as the ship started to move, the water came in and the ship rolled over, and 150 people were killed, including several of the crew of the ferry. We went to the memorial which was held in Canterbury Cathedral, down in southeast England near to Dover. And after the service the clergy sent everybody, the grieving relatives and everybody else, down to the crypt of the church for tea, or brandy if we wanted it. And of course, quite naturally, quite a lot of the survivors from the crew, family, working-class people, lit cigarettes. Absolutely naturally. None of the clergy turned their heads. They didn't even notice it was happening, they were busy going around
comforting
people. And I was about two yards away from Margaret Thatcher, talking to peopleâmy wife is from a seafaring family, so we have a natural empathy with these sorts of people on these occasions. Thatcher went up and told them [
voice rises, scolding, mimicking her voice, uncannily accurate
], “You shouldn't be smoking in here!”
CB:
Oh, my God!
NK:
“
This is consecrated grrrround. You should put those cigarettes out!
”
CB:
Oh, God, that's a very telling anecdote. Do you have more like that?
NK:
Yeah, yeah. Lots of them. Lots of themâbut I've gone far enough. I tell you why. Because these were very, very somber, very sad occasions. I'll only repeat those two. But they're only a sample. Sadly. To show that she just had
no
social skills in those circumstancesâ
CB:
But, come on, how could she have been as successful a politician as she was with
no
social skills ? Surely you must have also seen a different side of her, a charming sideâ
NK:
No. [
Icy
]
CB:
Never?
NK:
No. [
Emphatic
]
CB:
You don't remember
any
moment when you thought, “Oh,
that's
her charm.
That
must be it.”
NK:
No. [
Emphatic
.
A long, cold silence
]
Back now to Charles Powell, in his Georgian mansion on Queen Anne's Gate. It is late in the afternoon, post-prandial, dozy. The weather is muggy. The air is still. Powell's hands remain folded in his lap, and I suspect that he rather wishes I were not there so that he might shut the door, tell his secretary to hold his calls, stretch out for a few minutes on the sofa, and close his eyes. Thatcher, from her picture frame, surveys the scene with what seems by contrast an almost lunatic vitality. “Is a personality like hers a freak of nature,” I ask him, “or do you think there was something in her background that created this phenomenon?”
“It's a very good question, and one I've never been able to answer. Because it's quite clear there was this enormous change of gear, that up until 1974, '75, she had been a talented, able, hardworking, but not particularly distinguished member of a couple of Conservative governments, and a bright young sort of political candidate. Something between 1975 and 1978â9 changed her from that, into being somebody who dug deep into herself and really thought, âLook, this can't go on, I'm going to change it, and I've got the willpower to do it.' I don't know how this sort of Pauline conversion really happened, but it did. Now, some of it was certainly under the influence of Keith Joseph, but something
really changed in her character in that time. Did it have roots? Yes, of course it did, it had roots from her upbringing and her father, you know, the sort of Methodist insistence on the virtues of hard work, improving herself, getting herself up from a sort of grammar school girl, pretty undistinguished little town in the Midlandsâ”
“If you were to just speculate, wildly, about what might have happened between 1975 and 1979, what do you think
might
have happened?”
“Well, part of it was the depth of Britain's condition by that time. I mean, in the latter years of the Macmillan government when she was having her first years on the job you could conclude that Britain wasn't too bad of a place, I mean, you remember the slogan âYou've never had it so good,' the slogan on which Macmillan went into the '57 election. But in the early '70s we were beyond all that, that was certainly an important part of it, but what else changed itâI just don't know, it's almost insane . . . a vision, some sort of lightning striking from heaven, but there was something. Something happened there. I mean, she herself claims, really, she just was forced finally to think why earlier Conservative governments had failed. But I've never been able to explain this. I remember when reviewing her autobiography, I identified this as the greatest mystery about her, really.”
“As have I,” I agree. “I find myself confronted with statements she made such as, âI knew I was the only one who could do it,' and the question I keep coming back to is, how on earth does anyone,
anyone
have that kind of self-confidence, no less a woman, at that time, of her backgroundâ”
“Yes, well, people do, I suppose. Stalin had itâ”
“And people ask the same questions about Stalinâ”
“Yes, yes. Is it nature? Of course, it helped, I think, the other factors in her character. She could never see two sides of a question. There was only one side of a question, as far as she was concerned. I mean, most of us are reasonable people, we can see the pros and the cons, but she was not the slightest bit interested in
the cons, sheâ
this is the way it was going to be done, and don't worry about the arguments against it, this is the way
. Now, of course it makes you very vulnerable if you're wrong, but she was right an awful lot of the time, and therefore her self-belief grew to vast proportions, and in the end of course it was part of her downfall. She'd become clearly imperial, by the end. You could say it's a weakness, but it can be a great strength, politically, too, especially in crisis.”
“Do you remember ever seeing her in a moment of profound doubt? Ever?”
He pauses for quite some time. “No, I don't think I do. Not profound doubt. Profound doubt about whether she was going to get through, not because she was wrong, but were the odds stacked against her too much? I think you can say, certainly in the early days of the government, on the economy, I think she probably felt thatâI think she had some moments of doubt. Certainly on the Falklands conflict, when she took on the extraordinary task of sending out the expeditionary force 8,000 milesâ”
“Doubt, or anxiety?”
“Well, doubt, too, I think. Yeah, anxiety, certainly, she got very nervous before big speeches, terrible business trying to keep her sedated, as it were, before she went on stage. She was always convinced at the last moment that she had the wrong text, or it wasn't going to work, or whatever, but that was just a way of pumping up the adrenaline. Lots of fine opera singers, or whatever, suffer the same phenomenon.”
A diva, again. The image comes up over and over. So do the others.
Powell's secretary knocks on the door. Our time is up. I fit in one more question. “Why does she matter?”
“I think,” he says, “the overall message would be that you
can
change a countryâa lot of people think
you can't; you can run a country, you can administer it, but don't be silly, governments come and go, life goes on, you can't change it
. Now, you have Mr. Sarkozy saying he can change Franceâand it will be very interesting to see if he doesâbut she shows that it
can
be done. I think that's a very important lesson. And from the point of view of the rest of the world, well, I think she did a better job than anyone of exposing socialism and really destroying it. I mean, there's no socialism left in this country and there's not much left in Europe. No one believes in socialism anymore.”