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Here is a political paradox: Enoch Powell had all the qualities we claim to admire in politicians - intelligence, honesty, integrity. He spoke his mind freely, his private life and financial affairs were beyond reproach. Yet he never advanced to high office, and had he done so it would almost certainly have been a disaster. Simon Heffer's 'Like the Roman' is the closest we will ever get to an autobiography of Enoch Powell (1913-1998). A close friend, he was given unique access to Powell's private archives, and has produced a solid, thoroughly researched, well-written and detailed apologia for a complex, paradoxical political figure. Enoch Powell will forever be remembered for one extraordinary speech he made in 1968 - the 'Rivers of Blood' speech, as it came to be known, in which he warned of appalling violence in the streets of Britain if non-white immigration were allowed to continue. Dropped from the shadow cabinet as a result, he immediately became a hero to many people, an object of hatred for many others. Over the years, the image remained of an eccentric, racist figure. The picture Heffer presents is rather different: a bright, awkward grammar school boy, a classical scholar (Professor of Greek at the age of 25), a poet, a soldier, an effective health minister, a loving father and grandfather. His admirers ranged across the political spectrum from Margaret Thatcher to Tony Benn, and his views on economic policy were to influence a whole generation of politicians, becoming in effect the orthodoxy of our times. A Tory right-winger, he nevertheless opposed nuclear weapons, supported the legalisation of homosexuality and the abolition of the death penalty. He remained a hugely influential and important politician. The book, at over 1,000 pages, is the work of a friend, and if this has allowed Heffer to give a very intimate picture of the man, it has also prevented him from producing a truly effective critical study. Powell, as he tells the story, can do almost nothing wrong, his opponents constantly being confounded by his inexorable logic. Certainly, this brilliant academic was able to apply a mind keenly trained in the critical analysis of classical texts to exposing ruthlessly the fabric of half-truths and illusions that makes up most political discourse. He continuously attacked the flawed and doomed attempts by Tory and Labour governments to maintain full employment in a time of high inflation by the use of an incomes policy. But Heffer's fondness for his subject blinds him to the man's glaring faults. A thin-skinned, sensitive man, Powell could sometimes be crashingly insensitive to the feelings of others. His continued insistence on speaking his mind in opposition to party policy led to him being accused, understandably, of betraying his colleagues. It is difficult to avoid an impression of vainglory and spitefulness in his behaviour at times, including his admonition to former Tory voters to vote Labour in 1974. Nor has history justified most of his stances. European Union, the Anglo-Irish Agreement, the Race Relations Act, Equal Pay for women - these have all become commonplace elements of our lives, without any of the dire consequences Powell warned of. His comments on the Ulster situation at times hinted at wild conspiracy theories. Nor, in the thirty years since that fateful speech, has continued immigration led to the sort of disaster he spoke of. On the contrary, British life has been enriched by the resulting cultural diversity. One key question any biography of Powell must pose is this: was he a racist? He always denied being so, and Heffer supports him. True, he worked hard for all his constituents, whatever their colour; no cultural bigot, he spoke many languages including Hindi. But two important points stand out: first, by taking such a public stand on the immigration issue, he lent his undoubted authority to the clearly racist views of many who were prepared to go much further than he was, and almost certainly encouraged racist attacks and abuse; and secondly, the offensive tone of many of his comments belie his claim that immigration, and not race, was the issue. In truth, his views, which would have been unexceptional in the nineteenth century, were often out of step with this on. His language often reflected this: on visiting America at the age of 55, he explained that it was his first visit to the country, adding: 'I should disembarrass myself of this peculiarity'.
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