Living Exclusive!
In a frank interview at 10 Downing Street, the Prime Minister told our Chief Writer, Jackie Highe, why we need more women at the top—and what's in store for those who make it
Being with Margaret Thatcher is rather like riding in a small but very powerful and expensive car. You get a long way fast and it's a bracing ride, but she smooths out bumps and takes comers tightly, so you never feel at risk. What's more, she always seems to have plenty of power to spare, so it's easy to see how the less forceful members of her Cabinet could be swept along, despite themselves.
And that, in essence, is how she operates.
‘Power,’ she says, comes not so much from the right to make the final decision, as from the ability to influence and persuade other people—then they go ahead and do your pushing for you.’ The reality of power doesn't worry her, nor should it, she feels, worry any woman. ‘I enjoy it enormously—we all learn history at school, and you feel a sense of responsibility when you're trying to make a little yourself—a sense of purpose being at the centre of things. It doesn't weigh me down—it's stimulating!’
We're sitting in the study at Number 10, Margaret Thatcher leaning forward in her chair, every nerve vibrating with earnestness.
‘Women are natural decision-makers,’ she states. ‘We don't shrink from decisions.’ Which is why, she reckons, we ought not to be frightened of aiming very high.
‘There's only one top job—but there are plenty of other jobs of responsibility all the way up the ladder. Women should take the opportunities as they come, but they seem to have less sell-confidence, in proportion to their ability, than men do—I don't know why. I think it can be an advantage being a woman.
‘We're very practical and we don't moan about things—we get on with life.’ Advantage or not, there are actually four fewer women MPs than there were when she came to office in 1979 (the number runs currently at 23).
‘I'm desperate to have more women in Parliament, and I'm constantly trying to encourage the women in my party to take a more active role in politics. I get very cross and upset when they say “I'm only a housewife”. I tell them being a housewife is a managerial job—you're used to taking responsibility and living within a budget, and we need those qualities in government, and everywhere else.’
She's not too happy when I suggest that far from being an inspiration to the average woman she might be seen as too capable for us to emulate, far too formidable altogether, in fact.
‘It would worry me to think that I put women off. Don't hold me up as a role model, I'm just lucky that things have bounced right for me.
‘I'm only here because I have a combination of qualities that no one else had at the time.’ But she does admit that circumstances don't seem to get any easier for women.
‘There are fundamental problems. We have as many educated women as men, but most of them get married. Then when you have a young family you can't just leave it. You can't just up sticks and move to London. I was fortunate that we lived on the spot and that my constituency was here. If my husband's work had been in Cornwall or Cardiff I couldn't have left my children to be an MP. And my husband is supportive. Denis said “It's absurd for you not to use your talents”.
‘There are other difficulties—the time lapse, for example: women who stop work to have a family lose touch and it takes a little time to get back their confidence.’ But she's quick to point out that there are balancing factors—that there are more opportunities than before, and that male attitudes are changing (this despite her own male critics). She comes in for a fair amount of flack for being ‘masculine’, ‘aggressive’, or even a would-be dictator.
‘I'm a tough boss, yes: I drive people, but it's my job to do that. We do have tough discussions in Cabinet, that's the way I run it—I don't want yes men—but it's utterly ridiculous to call me a dictator. If you put things firmly they say you're “headmistressy”, but they never call a man “headmastery”. It may be that a woman with natural authority stands out more than a man—but I didn't develop it on purpose. I'm not a woman second and a politician first. I'm a personality blended into one—I don't think you can separate qualities, tease them out. People don't evaluate the contribution men have made to life—so why do they do it with us? It's men who think we're different, possibly because there are so few of us in politics today.
‘I'd say to women who want to make a success in any career: rise to the challenge, and take the opportunities as they present themselves.
‘Of course it's going to be difficult on the first day in a new job, but so it is for a man. You'll have butterflies—who doesn't? I still get them. But tackle it day by day and keep calm, because you can do it!’ This is clearly Thatcher speaking on Thatcher—she's radiating sincerity, eyes shining, fists clenched. What price the Iron Lady now? It's obvious that her toughness [end p1] lies in her ability to control normal human weaknesses—to suppress them rather than not have them in the first place.
She claims that her ability to concentrate on the job makes self-effacement easy. ‘The moment I've got a job in front of me my mind concentrates wholly on the problem, not on whether I can do it or not. And that's what I'd say to other women—forget yourself and concentrate on the job. Of course you can't know it all at first. We all have a learning time and if you don't know something never be afraid to ask—it's a sign of intelligence, not ignorance!’
This is obviously something else from her personal experience—she acknowledges that she has to do a tremendous lot of homework. ‘If you're well prepared it gives you confidence. When I give tv interviews I still get nervous, even though I've done them so frequently. My mind just goes blank, then the first question comes and everything is all right’.
This is a Margaret Thatcher softer than the usual public image, more thoughtful, introspective—but definitely not weaker. You're never in any doubt that the steel is there, under the surface—even while she's talking about the need for ‘really close women friends, friends you can totally and utterly trust.
‘It's a lonely job in some ways, partly because you have [end p2] to spend long hours working, but mainly because in the end you know it's you who has to provide the drive. That's perhaps why they call me a dictator, because I've got to be the dynamo, to say “Come on, we've got to go ahead.”
‘That's how I see my job—as a motivator. And constantly you've got to find the renewed vigour and vitality to do it.’
She looks at that moment as though she never tires, as though long hours and exhausting schedules take no toll at all.
‘It's the way you learn to live. I'm a workaholic, it's true.’ And if she had to put her success down to any particular quality, it would be ‘perseverance’ and ‘loving the work I do. If you moan about your job you'll never do it well. Do it with every bit of enthusiasm you can muster, whether it's being Prime Minister or keeping the streets clean. It's a matter of personal pride to do your job well—and it affects everyone around you, which is one reason I can influence people. And I never give in. Look at Florence Nightingale—you'd call her a success; she knew what she wanted to achieve and she never gave in either.’
Her intensity is tremendous. ‘I have very little private life and sometimes I do miss it, but I have so much else of passionate interest to do.
‘Of course I look forward to a break like Christmas—we're still very much a family. But you can never relax—you're on duty the whole time, and you learn to live with that. I would be much more worried if I thought people were withholding things from me or saying “don't bother her”! Of course main policy decisions are made together, but someone has to have the ideas.’
This is the familiar intractable Maggie speaking, and it's easy now to picture her in those ‘tough discussions’ she talks about—intense, unpersuadable, carrying all before her confidently.
It comes as a jolt, therefore, when she admits happily ‘I'd love to be a granny. My children are both 30 and neither is married. You bring them up to be independent, but when it comes to marrying you can't do anything about it. I want some grandchildren!’
If she's brought anything new as a woman to the Premiership, she thinks it's ‘a greater interest in the long-term future. Mothers want to give their children more than they had. We have to face the fact that they may not want the same things, but we're always thinking in the future for our children and grandchildren, and that affects the decisions we make.’
In any case she reckons that the office of Prime Minister is changing. ‘There are far more summits than ever before—I was surprised when I came to office at how much more involved I have to be in foreign affairs. And then visiting heads of State want to see me—and people from overseas companies, too, so I have to be available. After all, foreign affairs are not just foreign—they affect us here, right down to prices in the shops.
‘In fact, there's a tendency for people to want to see more of me here too—they come to the top, but I say, “look, there are ministers dealing with those topics—ask them”!
‘I tell ministers—indeed everyone—if you're not prepared to take responsibility you're losing your freedom, so don't give it up! Everyone in the country, right down the line, should be prepared to take on more responsibility—including women.’
It's not difficult to picture Margaret Thatcher as the head of a large family estate, hounding the butler into visiting the dentist, lancing the footman's gumboil with her own hands—she's a born organiser and readily admits it.
‘Sometime over the weekend I'll try to get the flat in order—general tidying and putting things back in the place they should go. I love turning out the airing cupboard—or I might think “this kitchen needs straightening out”. Then I'll go through the freezer to see what we're running out of. I can't allow it to get low. I've got to have a certain number of shepherd's pies, lasagne, stews—yes, I still do it, and I like it. It's relaxing because it's different.’
A somewhat bizarre contrast to the flint-like ‘leader of the nation’, but Winston Churchill, (she refers to him frequently, and always as ‘Winston’, as though he were a lifelong friend) had his bricklaying.
A complex woman this—a combination of housewife, mother and hard-core politician, who remains unmoved through the most biting criticism. ‘You must never take things personally. You must take things in hand without taking them to heart. You have to have a touch of steel in you to do the job I do.