It’s not the done thing to speak critically of recently deceased politicians. Especially those who made history.
But in the case of Margaret Thatcher, it’s safe to set aside political and social norms.
Thatcher cared little for such norms. To sugarcoat an assessment of her life would be, well, un-Thatcherite. It might even smack of socialism.
This was a leader–a fearsome, implacable one–who believed that displays of softness were signs of weakness. In the politics of the times, they were “wet.” Thatcher saw herself as dry while many of the men around her were damp.
Take one of the best expressions of the Thatcherite philosophy: a strain of thought you could trace from her directly through to Mitt Romney’s infamous 47% fundraising speech. “There is no such thing as society,” she said. “There are individual men and women, and there are families.”
Before conservatives complain, wetly, about that quote being taken out of context, let me give you the preceding comments:
“I think we have gone through a period when too many children and people have been given to understand, ‘I have a problem, it is government’s job to cope with it!’ Or…‘I am homeless, the government must house me!’ and so they are casting their problems on society and who is society? There is no such thing!”
If you are homeless, does the government have a responsibility to house you? Thatcher thought not, and there were more homeless people on the streets of London in her era than there are today.
Thatcher believed that the social safety net was itself corrupting. It made people lazy. They were takers, not makers.
If that made her sound like a character out of a Dickens novel–like Mr Bumble in “Oliver Twist,” for instance–well, too bad. In fact, it was something she embraced. “The other day,” she said in one speech, “I was asked whether I was trying to restore ‘Victorian values.’ I said straight out, ‘yes I was.’ And I am. And if you ask me whether I believe in the Puritan work ethic, I’ll give you an equally straight answer to that too.”
In her first few years in office, unemployment doubled and–despite the stock market and housing bubble of the 1980s–never returned to pre-Thatcher levels while she was in office.
To those who complained about the devastation of entire industries and communities, she had no time or sympathy. One TV reporter in the North East of England had the temerity to ask her about the 20% unemployment that blighted his region.
“Well,” she sighed. “Look. I cannot do everything. Isn’t it important for me to go around to show the success of the North East. Here are you, you belong to the North East. Why don’t you boost it? Why don’t you boost it? Why don’t you instead of asking me questions—‘oh, are they going get any more,’ ‘oh, there are a lot of unemployed here’. Why don’t you say, ‘Look, eighty per cent are in work.’ Yes, we have to try to get work for the twenty per cent who aren’t, but some of the work that is being done is fantastically successful. Don’t you think that’s the way to persuade more companies to come to this region and get more jobs—because I want them—for the people who are unemployed. Not always standing there as moaning minnies. Now stop it!”
Many conservatives might celebrate this kind of media strategy. There were plenty of GOP candidates in the 2012 primaries who built their campaigns around treating journalists’ pesky questions this way.
This was not just her way of dealing with reporters. It was Thatcher’s worldview.









