The Profumo Affair has often been blamed for the fall not just of Harold Macmillan but also of the government he left behind. But isn’t it weird that a premier could be so affected by something clearly not of his doing? What kind of government can be toppled by a single minister and his affair with a little-respected woman?
We’ve seen recently how a party can turn on its Prime Minister if it is believed their continued leadership could bring the government into disrepute with the public. The first signal that Profumo’s deceit had ultimately ended Macmillan’s career as PM came directly after the debate in the House on 17 June. As he left, Macmillan was said to have looked visibly broken, while American Ambassador David Bruce reported back that Macmillan could prevent the Conservatives being re-elected. Journalist Christopher Booker called Macmillan’s showing in the House the most ‘broken’ of his career and former Parliamentary Private Secretary Anthony Barber thought the PM was ‘crestfallen’.1
And Macmillan certainly knew he had fared badly, telling Rab Butler he was heartbroken and finding himself joined only by his son Maurice and his son-in-law Julian Amery in the Smoking Room after having left the Chamber. The Gallup polls also signalled problems. Only 23 per cent of voters polled thought Macmillan should remain PM and showed that he was at his lowest point in popularity. Colleagues recalled that during the Profumo Affair, the Prime Minister appeared aged and friendless.2
Despite all this, and the rumours that the 1922 Committee were discussing his replacement, Macmillan himself told Butler that he didn’t want to resign over just the Profumo Affair.3
The scandal was, of course, not an event that happened in isolation. It came after other spy scandals had dominated the headlines. And it came at a time when Macmillan was already getting older and perhaps therefore seen to be ‘out of touch’ with a society keen to modernise; after all, the ‘Swinging 60s’ were coming, whether the older members of society were keen on a new social order or not. Horne says that 1963 made for a ‘hysterical’ atmosphere for the Profumo story to break and that the British people were all too ready to accept scandalous stories about anyone.4
Macmillan’s apparent belief in Profumo’s denial of the affair with Keeler was part of his downfall. When the truth came out, Macmillan looked stupid for not realising, or knowing, that his minister was lying to him, his colleagues and the country. But Macmillan desperately wanted Profumo’s version of his innocent acquaintance with Keeler to be true. Against the backdrop of disappointing security lapses, Macmillan was keen for Profumo to be proven to be an upstanding example of the Tory Party. Profumo’s strong denial, and the following up of that with legal actions for libel against foreign press that ran the story, including Paris Match and Il Tempo, helped Macmillan see what he wanted to. Horne says that Macmillan’s wife Dorothy also thought it was unlikely that Profumo would stoop to the depths of perjury to defend himself. How ironic that Keeler was so criticised, and legally pursued, for doing the exact same thing as Profumo, and not to save her own skin, but simply to comply with what she’d been asked by others that it suited.
Horne says that Macmillan wrote in his memoirs saying he truly believed Profumo, because in his eyes, a statement made in the House, and backed up by those made in a libel court, could be nothing but true.5
Why was Macmillan’s response to the Profumo scandal so important and ultimately so damning? It’s a matter of timing.
The public’s opinion of exactly when Macmillan found out that Profumo had lied and the potential security issue that went along with that put Macmillan between a rock and a hard place. If Macmillan did only find out, as his memoirs suggest, on 4 February, then it seems he was either kept in the dark deliberately by those closest to him (or even by Hollis, who may have felt he wasn’t welcome at Macmillan’s office with any more spy revelations) or that the people he employed to monitor security were similarly fooled. What kind of Prime Minister doesn’t know what’s going on in his own government? And what kind of government keeps things from its Prime Minister?
But what if Macmillan did know that Profumo was lying when he made his statement? It would make him a canny leader, yes, aware of his ministers’ every move, but also one who supported a lie from a colleague to protect the establishment, and ultimately his own job.
Is it likely Macmillan did know? Horne says that Macmillan’s Private Office had received a tip-off from Private Secretary Philip de Zulueta towards the end of 1962. The story goes that Zulueta had considered renting from Astor the cottage next door to Ward’s, but had been warned off by an acquaintance, who had told him about Ward and his Russian connections. In the book An Affair of State, Knightley and Kennedy say that Zulueta actually did rent a cottage there, and that Macmillan would visit and therefore be familiar with Ward.6 Zulueta also warned Hugh Fraser, the air minister at the time, who was also thinking about renting a cottage at Cliveden. Gossip about the sort of things that went on at Cliveden, and with whom, may well have been rife among the Commons and the Lords.
William Shepherd, MP for Cheadle, Cheshire, also informed Macmillan that there were problems with the behaviour and morality of his ministers. In October 1962, he was approached by Ward in the Kenya Coffee House. Ward had overhead Shepherd and his guests, who were Hungarian refugees, discussing the missile crisis. Ward wanted Shepherd to meet Ivanov, so that he could hear for himself a Soviet viewpoint, and fixed a drinks date at his flat. Shepherd attended and there he met Ivanov, Keeler and Rice-Davies. Since he had close links with MI5 and the police, after the meeting, where Shepherd had inevitably clashed with Ivanov over his political views, the MP decided to find out more about the group and its dynamics. He recognised Keeler from his own visits to Murray’s, and knew about the rumours linking her to Profumo; he also suspected that that’s where the war minister knew Keeler from. But now he realised that Keeler also moved in the same circles as Ivanov, he thought it was inappropriate. Since Ward had mentioned that he and Ivanov were about the meet Iain Macleod, the Leader of the House of Commons, Shepherd told Macleod he was implicated in this situation too. Macleod wrote to the Home Secretary and spoke to the Foreign Secretary. Shepherd, meanwhile, met with MI5 and told them what he knew and wrote to Macmillan warning of further possible scandals affecting the party’s reputation. Macmillan directed him to Chief Whip Martin Redmayne. While Shepherd mostly kept his accusations of immorality to those politicians he suspected of homosexuality, as he left he warned Redmayne that there was another problem and mentioned Profumo’s name.7 Did Redmayne pass the message on? Or keep the war minister’s secret?
Macmillan was also criticised for being out of touch with the modern world when it came to the Profumo Affair. In his diaries, Macmillan seems to dismiss the social circles Astor and Profumo mixed within. He described the Edgecombe shooting case as ‘squalid’ and believes the term ‘model’ automatically infers prostitution. His diary entry mentions how politically disastrous the original Cliveden set was, and that the newer version was ‘disastrous morally’.
When he comments on Profumo, before his deception was exposed, Macmillan seems genuine in his assertation that the minister was foolish and indiscreet but not wicked, adding that the type of circles that Profumo was in were raffish and bohemian. The comments make him sound like an old man discussing the ‘youth of the day’, understandable until you realise the ministers he spoke of were middle-aged!
On 9 April, Macmillan received a note from George Wigg that outlined just how Ward and his social circle, and by implication also Profumo, spent their time. However, Macmillan still seems to have thought that while Profumo was unwise to mix with such a group, security was not at risk, and so he concentrated on other issues.8
Later the next month, however, the potential for a scandal involving the war minister couldn’t be ignored. On 24 May, Macmillan received a letter from Wilson including details from Ward that suggested Profumo had lied. While Hollis had disputed any security concerns the day before, Macmillan was now worried enough to ask the Lord Chancellor, Lord Dilhorne, to investigate, and headed off to a pre-planned holiday to Oban, Scotland with his wife, rather unrealistically hoping for a restful trip.9 Equally optimistically, perhaps, Profumo had headed to the romance of Venice with Valerie. The trip, we assume, was booked before Profumo learnt of the impending investigation, knowledge about which caused him to break the news of his infidelity to his wife on the first night of the vacation.
But just a few days into his holiday, Macmillan received a call from his Private Office telling him Profumo had admitted his lie. During the break, Macmillan also received a letter from Chief Whip Redmayne tendering his resignation over the issue. But, perhaps not realising how the news of Profumo’s deceit would blow up, Macmillan continued with his holiday, only returning to Rab and his office on 10 June. Coincidentally, it was the same day Gordon attended the Old Bailey charged with assaulting Keeler, and Ward had by then been arrested and charged under the Sexual Offences Act. The News of the World was serialising Keeler’s life story. A lot can happen when you take a break!
Later Macmillan wrote in his diary that he couldn’t recall having been under so much strain, although it’s said the PM still took a week to fully grasp the seriousness of the situation.10
Even so, Macmillan was once more annoyed with the press interest in the story, perhaps more so than with the instigator of the scandal itself. He felt the Profumo Affair would be used by the press against the government, which he thought was payback for the Vassall journalist jailings. And he took this as a personal attack too, later recording that every day new attacks were made, and mostly on him, focusing on his age and incompetence.11
On 17 June, the House reconvened, and as Macmillan must have expected, Wilson was ready to pounce. His speech started ‘This is a debate without precedent in the annals of this House’ and said that the revelations had ‘shocked the moral conscience of the nation’. Wilson focused on the security issues Profumo’s behaviour had thrown up and the seeming inaction of Macmillan towards them.
Macmillan was forced to reply.
He said that the scandal had inflicted a ‘deep, bitter and lasting wound’ on him, and admitted that he couldn’t ever remember a minister ever having behaved like Profumo, deliberately and repeatedly lying to his wife, legal team, colleagues and the Commons. He denied he’d been aware of the war minister’s unsuitable alliance with Ward from 1961, and not acted upon it, and then he explained why he hadn’t taken Profumo to task himself. It was here he used his age and rank as reasons for why Macmillan thought Profumo may have found it harder to confide in his Prime Minister, expecting him instead to be more open with the Chief Whip and law officers. But clearly, Macmillan had misjudged Profumo, who had no intention of sharing his secrets with any of his colleagues, whoever they were.
Macmillan also argued that he had been hesitant to act because of what had happened to Tam Galbraith, where false rumours had led to an unnecessary resignation. He also implicitly criticised the security services for not bringing the potential security risks of Keeler being asked to discover atomic secrets to his direct attention, commenting that it was unfortunate he had not received the information12 and he regretted that it hadn’t been passed on.13
Turning his criticism on Profumo, Macmillan commented that he, his colleagues and the House had been deceived by the minister but because he and the party were not privy to the deception, the House and the country should show sympathy and understanding.14
By the end of the debate, Macmillan was judged to have fared well against Wilson, although the Tory MP for West Flintshire, Nigel Birch, ruffled feathers when he spoke against Macmillan, suggesting that Macmillan should make way for a much younger colleague soon. For Birch, it was a dish best served cold, as Macmillan had previously dismissed Birch’s 1958 resignation as Economic Secretary to the Treasury, alongside that of two of his colleagues.
But Birch’s criticism wasn’t enough to encourage all fellow disgruntled Conservatives to force out their leader. The vote came, and since the Whips had warned the party that a lack of support would force Macmillan to resign – and therefore threaten their own jobs – the PM saw his worst ever debate result, a reduced but ultimately face-saving majority of fifty-seven. Berwick-upon-Tweed MP Lord Lambton (who was later himself exposed in the News of the World for using prostitutes and interviewed by MI5), Humphrey Berkeley (who in 1970 joined the Labour Party) and Henry Legge-Bourke were notable abstentions.
After the debate, Macmillan sought to repair the damage with the Denning Inquiry, and a letter apologising to the Queen. The Queen at least supported him, accepting that it was hard for someone who held high standards to suspect others of not being so. His family also rallied around, with Macmillan mentioning his wife’s affection and support and letters from Maurice.
So, was Macmillan hapless? Powerless?A bungling old fool? Ignorant of the ways of the world or just adept at avoiding responsibility? The public wasn’t happy with any of those options. A nation wants its leader to show, well, leadership.
Macmillan was of course known by his 1957 catchphrase ‘You’ve never had it so good’, said during an optimistic speech to fellow Conservatives at a Tory rally in Bedford. It was his way of painting ‘a rosy picture of Britain’s economy while urging wage restraint and warning inflation was the country’s most important problem of the post-war era’.15
When he came to power, Macmillan told the Queen he thought the government might not even make six weeks but managed to rapidly restore the country’s fortunes and confidence. In 1959, he led his party to one of the Tory Party’s greatest electoral triumphs. The general election of 8 October saw the Conservatives enjoy their third consecutive victory, and for the second time, increase their overall majority in Parliament with a landslide victory of 100 seats. He was clearly capable of leading.
Certainly Davenport-Hines does not paint Macmillan as a fool. Rather an ambitious and cunning politician who had used the threat of his retirement from politics to nab the top post for himself.16 The author describes Macmillan as a politician who mastered both ‘appearances and realities’.17
Perhaps it’s closer to the truth to say Macmillan had his suspicions, but so wanted to believe the best of Profumo that he ignored what in hindsight might have been obvious. Others might think that this ‘playing the fool’ was also an act. It was a criticism that would later be levelled at Boris Johnson, suggesting that if you play the bumbling clown when there are serious accusations against you and your ministers, including rule breaking during the Covid lockdown and corruption in the awarding of lucrative contracts, you won’t be blamed or held responsible for them. Is feigning ignorance just one of the tricks in a politician’s playbook?
By late June, however, the British public appeared to have moved on from the Profumo Affair as Macmillan was sent messages of support in their thousands18 and the press was focusing instead on the Great Train Robbery.
Macmillan’s popularity also had a boost from President Kennedy’s visit in June, with Mrs Kennedy reporting that her husband thought highly of Macmillan. To show his support, Kennedy apparently ignored the usual State Department budget and bought Dorothy Macmillan a golden dressing table set with her initials on it.19
The Denning Report, which condemned Ward for being immoral, casting doubt on Keeler’s claim to have been in a relationship with Ivanov and downplaying security risks, also helped to some extent, although it did state that it was the duty of the PM and his colleagues to deal with the situation, which they failed to do.
The scandalous headlines didn’t completely stop once Macmillan moved on, however. On 19 July 1964, the Sunday Mirror ran a headline hinting about the existence of an incriminating photograph involving a lord and a gangster. A German magazine, Stern, which did not have to obey British libel laws, outed the two as Boothby and Ronnie Kray. Unlike the Profumo scandal, the story blew over after Boothby denied the relationship and issued the Mirror with a writ, forcing the paper to apologise and pay £4,000 damages. Boothby was also, of course, the long-term lover of Dorothy Macmillan, and the former PM was probably very glad to no longer be in office.
But with Macmillan’s wounding came Conservative Party failure. Horne says the impact of the Profumo Affair on the British government was ‘unprecedented’.20 The Conservative government lost the next general election in 1964, and Harold Wilson took over to become the youngest Prime Minister since 1894.