Closet Queens: Some 20th Century British Politicians

by Michael Bloch

Closet Queens is a fascinating study of gay men in twentieth century British politics, from Lord Rosebery and Lord Beauchamp in Victorian and Edwardian times to Michael Portillo and Peter Mandelson in our own era.

As all homosexual activity was illegal until 1967, and exposure meant ruin and disgrace, such men were obliged either to repress their sexual feelings or else lead double lives, indulging their tastes secretly while respectably married with children.

The need to cover up their sexuality, while causing problems and disappointments, often sharpened their skills as politicians - they were masters of secrecy and subterfuge, and knew how to take calculated risks.

An entertaining and insightful account of some extraordinary personalities, Closet Queens opens doors into a hidden world.

Genres: Nonfiction, History, Politics, Biography, LGBT, Gay, Historical

320 pages, Paperback

First published May 28, 2015

Reviews

[Alexis Hall]

I appreciated that, despite the rather sensationalist title, this book seemed to approach the topic at hand non-sensationally. There’s a very reassuring foreword which addresses directly the problematic assumptions behind the idea that noting a historical person might have had queer leanings is somehow shocking or defaming. As well as the complexities of establishing queer history in general, since there’s weird burden of historical “proof” when, err, how do you prove something like that?

Anyway, the book itself is a bit curate’s eggy (good in parts): it was broadly interesting, but whisks you through about a hundred years of British politics so quickly that it’s hard to really get a grip on who anybody was or what their story was supposed to be. And while I appreciated that the book interpreted queerness broadly—covering romantic attachment as well as physical behaviour—there was some really unfortunate, entirely unquestioned overlaps between homosexual, pederasty and paedophilia. I mean, clearly sharking Eton for boyflesh was something that was pretty much taken for granted in the late 19th and early 20th century but it still made me uncomfortable. As did how many of these dudes form (as far as I can tell non-physical) attachments to their own sons. I mean, maybe that’s just a thing it was semi-okay to do back then but I wish the book itself had been a bit less blasé about it. Of course, our understanding of queer sexuality has changed A LOT in a century, and I know the ancient Greeks didn’t help with the whole homosexuality = pederasty vibe, but I’m still just nervy about things that seem to be reinforcing any sort of association between homosexuality and paedophilia

Wow this is turning into a fun review. In any case, despite the almost picaresque nature of the book which makes a lot of the character studies feel quite shallow I still found some engaging sections. I was intrigued enough about the Earl of Beauchamp who was apparently the inspiration for Lord Marchmain in Brideshead Revisited to do some further research. And for some reason this line about Harold Nicolson (the husband of Vita Sackville-West) tickled the heck out of me:

[Harold] gathered around him a circle of attractive, well-bred young men of literary bent, who in return for his hospitality and mentorship were happy to oblige him in his somewhat unromantic urges. ([His son] compared his sexual experiences to ‘a quick visit to a picture gallery between trains’.)

I may henceforth adopt “quick visit to the picture gallery?” as a euphemism for hasty acts of intimacy.

[Eddie Clarke · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’ve given this book a probably very unfair and harsh 2 out of 5 so I suppose I have to justify myself.

The book is well researched and written. The author says at the outset he wants to avoid prurience or sensationalism and he does. Largely, I did enjoy reading this.

My issues are really to do with the concept behind the book and the formatting of the material.

The author examines a very narrow seam of British political (Westminster) history - male politicians from all parties who were either gay, or reputed to be gay, or appear with historical hindsight to have been gay (sometimes chastely) - from the end of the 19th century to the beginning of the 21st century (and full gay equality in Britain).

He wants to avoid the charge of peddling gossip, and Matthew Parris provides a beautifully argued preface which supports this claim. However, because the author doesn’t really develop any of the information he provides into any kind of overarching historical analysis, one is left with the feeling of having pigged out on over a century’s worth of (very superior) gossip.

All the men involved are very similar in that they overwhelmingly hail from middle or upper class British backgrounds and attend public schools (mostly Eton), Cambridge or Oxford, and then embark on the same political career - researcher, MP, PPS, low ranking minister, cabinet minister, Prime Minister - so there is a saminess about each individual described time and again. Bloch describes them invariably in the same manner - potted biography and political career followed by the gay interest. Frequently, he pairs politicians of the same vintage to compare and contrast - but as they all so similar to start with anyway this really becomes repetitive and tedious. From time to time, he appears to take an essentialist view of homosexuality - relations with parents are stressed; no penchant for china collecting or interior design goes unnoticed.

From time to time, with a really compelling individual (e.g. Churchill), or a celebrated scandal (Lord Beachamp of ‘Brideshead’ fame; Peter Tatchell’s Bermondsey by-election contest with Simon Hughes) the narrative takes off.

I oddly found myself comparing this to another history of roughly the same period: Matt Houlbrook’s ‘Queer London’. I think Houlbrook works from a premise that gay equality was an inevitable historical process and his book seeks the motors of this process (in my view, utterly mistakenly) amongst the proletariat. But at least that work uncovered incredible historical data which Houlbrook marshalled through trenchant analysis into a coherent argument.

The lower orders simply don’t exist in Bloch’s work, apart from being playmates sometimes for the closet queens. The politicians come across as primarily focussed on themselves and their careers - gayness was indulged in secret, to avoid social and legal censure and career death. An aspect Bloch doesn’t develop is the class implication: on several occasions he writes of a politician being known widely by his colleagues to be gay (at a time this was illegal), but nevertheless is allowed a prominent (although usually background) role in party politics(sometimes ministers are requested politely by the FO to leave their boyfriends behind on official visits abroad). It was usually when the gayness hit the tabloids that the man was ostracised. (Bloch is particularly good recounting the gay baiting Murdoch’s papers did of John Major’s government).

Bloch recounts the role the closet queens played in both the set up of the Wolfenden report and in the eventual partial decriminalisation in the 1960s. To me this rings much truer than Houlbrook’s heroic proletariat premise: gay liberation in the UK simply did not follow the Stonewall path of the USA, it was much more elite-led. The politicians (of all parties, and even the straight ones - Thatcher consistently voted for legalisation) were far in advance of the populace at large on this issue.

[Andy · Rating 3 out of 5]

Compared to Bloch's most recent work, a sober assessment of the life and times of the late, disgraced, Liberal Party leader, Jeremy Thorpe, this is a slight tome which reads rather like what we in the media call "a clippings job" rather than a serious historical work.

In essence, it is a chronicle of closeted gay men in British political life from the mid-Victorian era until today. The tone is unrelentingly prurient, the structure leaden and the outcome a strange chimera of titillation and tedium.

[Nicolas Chinardet · Rating 2 out of 5]

As someone who has been involved with LGBT History Month in the UK since its inception in 2004, I need no convincing of the importance of visibility and of reclaiming our history. What we now call LGBT people have been erased from history books or disguised as something they were not for centuries. This needs not only to stop but to be reversed.

Therefore, a book purporting to do just that, by 'outing' 'closeted' British male politicians of the 20th century, should naturally get my vote, yet it is not easy to decide which Division Lobby to enter, and abstention may be required.

In this rapid and readable romp through the last century, Bloch uses a set format to present his material: a potted biography introduces each figure, who is generally paired and compared with another as part of a discrete chapter, of which there are 17. Matthew Parris, an openly gay columnist at The Times, and a former Conservative MP himself, provides his reassuring imprimatur to the book, discussing the potential pitfalls faced by such a work that its author has, he tells us, managed to sidestep.

Despite Bloch's attempts, however, the book becomes somewhat repetitive and monotonous about halfway through. The portraits of its subjects, who seemingly come from the same rarified social strata (they often seem somehow related to each other), and led uncannily similar lives (how many of them were elected MP at 26?!), tend to lose focus and sharpness.

The book is nonetheless quite informative, particularly for averred 'cases'. There are however a surprisingly large number of people in this gallery about whom the author seems to have little more than a feeling to go by (On page 89, he says of Brendan Bracken, whom he has just labelled "a brilliant concealer": "Had he wished to lead a secret life as a practising homosexual, he would have known how to go about it.").

While the book is not gossipy as such (one of the potential pitfalls), in that it is not sensationalist, the word "rumours" recurs rather too often, and the whole thing often feels a little too speculative for my liking. Bloch is also generally very vague as to the sources of his information, which, while it may make the text more readable, when coupled with a number of small but easily avoidable inaccuracies, raises unfortunate questions about the rigour and value of the whole enterprise.

Of course, in this context, rumours can prove a useful smoke to indicate the presence of a fire. But in times where being the object of such rumours could signify political and personal ruin, it is not difficult to imagine that opponents of those men could find an interest in creating, or at least helping along, baseless stories. The Labouchère Amendment of 1885, that created the offence of "gross indecency", wasn't nicknamed the Blackmailer's Charter for nothing and being a 'closet queen,' as per the pithy but rather uncaring title of the book, was by no means a luxury.

While some historians famously will bend over backwards to dismiss any whiff of homosex or even romantic interest of the 'unspeakable' kind ("they were just very good friends"), Bloch tends to bend over forward to reveal the slightest queer opening in the lives of his chosen subjects.

Incidentally it is never quite clear how he selected those subjects in the first place. There are passing mentions of other men throughout the book who seem just as worthy of being included as those who were but were left in dusty obscurity.

On page 119, Bloch describes two of his subjects (Samuel Hoare and Philip Sassoon) as "indubitably homosexual in outlook" (whatever that means), before acknowledging that "it seems unlikely that they ever gave much physical expression to that side of their nature."

What reveals a touch of the lavender brush in Bloch's eyes, and 'proves' homosexual inclinations, if not activities, is very often nothing more than a circumstantial list of ridiculous and offensive stereotypes, that wouldn't have been out of place in the worst tabloids of the times.

To quote but a few examples (grab the smelling salts and clutch your pearls now!):
- Rosebery was "petulant, coquettish, and intensely narcissistic." He holidayed "in Naples, the homosexual Mecca of the time." The fact of his close friendships with "several men who were clearly homosexual" and those always present "rumours", "leaves little doubt that he possessed homosexual tendencies" (p28).
- Churchill was "intensely narcissistic and exhibitionistic; he had an emotional personality, being easily moved to tears; he was a sybarite, with a passion for silk underwear" (p79).
- Bracken, who was pushy and prudish, never married and went the parties organised by someone's "louche bisexual brother-in-law" (p88).
- Curzon, who was "a great admirer of women," and a philandered, married twice and had three children, "was also a man with many feminine characteristics. He took not interest in sport [...] but loved old buildings and interior decoration. He was childishly vain and narcissistic, and adored dressing up and participating in lavish ceremonies. His touchiness and petulance had an epicene quality" (p99).
- When it comes to Channon, "taken in combination, there is something inescapably homosexual about his love of lords, his passion for lavish décor, his fascination with the Nazis, his malicious wit" (p153).
- As for Eden,"a handsome man, he was extremely vain and narcissistic, and was (like Balfour) thought to possess feminine characteristics" (p212).

In Bloch's mind, narcissism is clearly at the heart of the homosexual psyche, and so is misogyny which is very often quoted as another significant trait. Add to this a dash of pub psychology (those men are either too attached or not attached to one parent or the other), and we are looking at the recipe for a rather nauseating cocktail. Oddly, after imbibing such potent draught, the reader is left with the after-taste that none of those people are particularly nice characters.

Although Bloch seems broadly non-judgemental of the men he introduces to the reader in his book, and he did take the trouble to research and write the darn thing, his possibly unconscious, though unmissably ambiguous, attitude to homosexuality proves problematic and is certainly open to inquiry and challenge. I can't help the feeling that the author dresses right of the political spectrum, which could explain his apparent and puzzling contradictions.

Although Maureen Colquhoun, who, in 1977, was the first female MP to come out, is mentioned in the epilogue, Closet Queens only concerns itself with men; middle or upper-class (mostly), white men. This is, we are told, because female homosexuality was never criminalised in the UK, and because there were so few women involved in politics for most of the period covered.

The book was published in 2015, at a time when interest in LGBT history had reached critical mass, but before the woke years when the need to consider women and people of colour had not been as recognised as it is now. In that respect the book is an artefact of that small window in time and has not aged too well. Even if its final form is not quite what it could have been, it is however something that was needed, and possibly still is, if only as a primer for more rigorous and thorough explorations of the subject.

[Eva Müller · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book does exactly what it says on the tin: it tells you about British politicians who were/might have been queer. Only, with the exceptions of some anecdotes about things these guys got up to, that's not terribly interesting.
This is due to a combination of:
- the biographies being very similar (but it's not exactly the fault of the author that most British politicians were Upper/Upper Middle-Class men who went to Oxbridge)
- there are a lot of politicians covered in this book because Bloch cast a very net re: who might have been queer and includes cases like "there were some rumors" and "I don't think he ever had a same-sex relationship but he might have been attracted to men". That's something else I don't blame him for because if you go for "there is absolute undeniable proof that this man who lived at a time when homosexuality was a crime was actually gay"...the book is going to be rather short. So why not include some borderline cases and let readers make up their own minds?
- Bloch went for a format where each chapter covers two politicians who were around at the same time. Some of those have similarities beyond the above-mentioned Oxbridge background, e.g. they dealt with their attraction to men in a similar fashion. Some were polar opposites. Others were very similar in some ways and completely different in others. That is confusing, especially because in each chapter you need to keep track of two sets of names/biographies/facts.

Due to the combination of all of these things, I don't think I retained much of the book. Frequently, when there was a sentence like "X met Y whom we talked about in the previous chapter" I already had forgotten everything about Y. And that just doesn't make for very good non-fiction.

[Akin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Middling. Understandably, Bloch frames the book as a serious study of closeted politicians (all male: partly for the obvious reason that lesbianism has never been against the law in the United Kingdom; partly for the even more obvious reason that women, straight or otherwise, have been underrepresented in parliament). A thoughtful introduction by Matthew Parris, the broadcaster and former Conservative MP (he makes a cameo, incidentally) gives the book useful intellectual heft.


But even so, it struggles to escape the problems it anticipates for itself - ie, gossipy prurience. This is unavoidable up to a point; one can't carry out a century-spanning survey of the subject without seeming a bit unfocused at times. But part of the problem, I think, is down to the author's style, often breezy and replete with asides and digressions.


Closet Queens is soundly researched and cross-referenced, but I think I would have like more analysis on why men with much to hide (thanks to unforgiving and often hypocritical social and legal mores) would place themselves in the public eye. Narcissism is cited, occasionally and delicately; much more mention is made by the author about the relationship between many of his subjects and their mothers.


I think the weaknesses (and perhaps the strengths) of the book are summed up in his two page account of the notorious 1983 Bermondsey bye-election: Peter Tatchell, the "out" Labour candidate shoved back in the closet by Central Office; the irascible retiring member, Roger Mellish of Labour, spurring on the homophobic campaign of an independent Conservative (!) candidate: Simon Hughes, suggesting a "straight" choice (nudge, nudge, wink poisonous wink) between himself and Peter Tatchell, the besieged Labour candidate - whilst having (as was revealed many years later) a complicated relationship with his own sexuality; and finally, the 44% swing from Labour to the Lib Dems.


All the known facts, as well as some not commonly known (such as Mellish, homophobe down to his socks, making a pass at Tatchell - declined - then warning him not to tell anyone because "no-one will believe you, anyway." It's a fascinating story, excellently distilled, but with little of the analysis - Hughes opportunism, Tatchell's activism, the aftermath more than 20 years on - that would give the story the rich context that would elevate it decisively above tittle tattle. (I should say that given the right circumstances, I enjoy tittle tattle as much as the next man.)


But then, perhaps I'm whining because Bloch didn't quite write the book I want to read.


Bottom line: enjoyable, a bit claustrophobic, possibly incomplete.

[Liam Ostermann · Rating 1 out of 5]

I found this book deeply problematic and actually offensive in parts. I know in many ways it is a frothy confection for reading on a train or in the loo but there are so many instances which cry out for comment that I am unsure if it is because this is a scissors and paste cutting job compiled by researchers to which Bloch has just attached his name or he a writer who does not give any thought to what he writes. I found three particularly grotesque examples:

The case of Ian Horbin who was convicted of what we now regard as grooming boys (and having sexual contact with them - though bizarrely Bloch seems to think that if actual penetration didn't happen it was largely all in fun) as young as 11 and involving a boy, who he seduced at 14 - and was only 17 was when Horbin was finally caught - to assist him in procuring younger boys at the boys club he ran. Bloch seems to find something splendidly defiant about Horbin's deceleration after years in prison that having broken the law, before prison, in prison he intended to continue doing so - he was on his way to Tangier were he spent the rest of his life. Bloch doesn't seem to see that, even in his time, Horbin was a rich, predatory man who involved himself charitable work in the east end of London because of the ample opportunity it allowed him to prey on adolescent boys. When he could no longer do that he went to Tangier's were other poor powerless boys could be exploited.

His handling of the Jeremy Thorpe/Norman Davis scandal is equally biased - there is no mention that Thorpe raped Davis on there first evening together nor Thorpe's complete failure to acknowledge that he had done anything wrong - even in trying to have Davis murdered or in misappropriating the money to pay for the hit from Liberal party funds.

Finally his account of the conservative government's clause 28 legislation is even more problematic. He blames it as a result of 'left wing' local authorities distributing information to school children on how to cruise and then goes to say it didn't have any effect because it had no clear penalties and that there were no prosecutions. This is just wrong if not mendacious - the law stopped any meaningful discussion of gay matters in schools for a generation and encouraged the perception that being homosexual was wrong.

I could go on but I think is enough. This is a bad book and the fact that it is available in multiple copies in many library systems is a pity because there are so many better books out there about politics and sexuality, even about parliamentary sex scandals. Please avoid this book.

[Kevin · Rating 4 out of 5]

Although not the more abstract historical and psychological book that I expected this book remains an interesting series of brief biographies of assorted British politicians.

The book charts a path through the 20th century (give or take a few years) and looks at various high profile politicians, including their relationship with the legislation that affected their personal lives. Each chapter generally moving forward a short space of time and focusing on two or three people active in that particular window. As the chapters advance slowly and many of these politicians were long standing many appear multiple times outside of their own chapters.

Overall I would say the book is well written, with the potentially sensitive and sensationalist topic being handled rather well. There are obvious difficulties in trying to balance the biography and social history angle however, and I found some chapters wanting in that regard. In fact it is testament to the high quality of the research and writing in the book that these lulls stand out as they would be fine additions to many texts on the subject and era, it is just that Bloch sets such a high standard in general that on the infrequent occasions when the evidence doesn't meet those lofty heights it seems almost disappointing.

A worthy read, and one that will shine new light on at least some aspect of UK politics/politicians for the vast majority of readers.

A complimentary copy of this book was supplied for review by the publisher as part of the "First Reads" program.

[Risto Pyykkö · Rating 3 out of 5]

At times entertaining, at others less so. All in all, the dated and sometimes hoary attitudes make the book seem twenty years old.

[Keith Johnstone · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very interesting book - you can’t help but think that gay men have run the UK for centuries (and what a shame they couldn’t have done it being open and honest about their sexuality...perhaps this is changing but maybe not). A well written and researched book, there are perhaps some sections where I thought there needed to be more proof/fact around supposed homosexuality of individuals I.e. Churchill and Heath and I do think the author revels a bit in tired clichés about gay men having dominant mothers and being effeminate narcissists and perhaps does not explore enough why gay men are drawn to politics and the impact of being closeted but still an important read

[Stuart Yellop · Rating 4 out of 5]

This could have descended into tabloid gossip. However, the author acknowledges where speculation must suffice, and has more than enough proof of his assertions. Closet homosexuals have always been a part of British political life, but it's striking how many household names were hiding their sexuality. (Rumours about Edward Heath have persisted for decades, but I've come to see Winston Churchill and Enoch Powell in a different light.) Recommended.

[Mick Meyers · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book uses a scattergun approach by just about naming any body an all parties gay or bisexual because they distanced themselves from women.the ladies mentioned also get the same treatment,wouldn't it be good if we could have political leaders that regardless of sexual orientation could get us out of the mess we are in now.not groundbreaking just mainly a rumour mill book in some places.

[Laura · Rating 2 out of 5]

Gosh this book is bad. Review to come, because, woah, do I have thoughts.

[Gary McLelland · Rating 3 out of 5]

Great subject, boring writing

[Sophie]

First off, I should state that I received this book in a free giveaway. Had it not been in a giveaway, I might not have even considered reading it as it's not my usual subject of choice. However, the summary intrigued me, more so than the actual book it turns out. Although clearly well written, and researched with no doubt limited resources, I found it rather heavy going, and, in fact, gave up on it. I'm sure it would be of interest to some, but not so much to me. I may return to it one day, or just pass it on to someone who would appreciate it more.

[Jill Meyer · Rating 4 out of 5]

Sir Norman Fry really does exist!

British author Michael Bloch has written "Closet Queens" an interesting look at gay British politicians in the last 150 or so years. However, Bloch seems to include some well-known politicians - Winston Churchill, for example - in his book, who was not sexually gay, but rather enjoyed the company of men, over the company of women. And others who were asexual and didn't have sex with ANYONE, let alone another man! But there were plenty of other men who were either bisexual or homosexual and dealt with it in various ways in their public lives.

The practice of homosexuality/sodomy was a crime in Britain until it was decriminalised in 1967. Gay men mostly hid their orientation, often marrying women as a cover. While some marriages were successful, sometime producing children, many of the marriages were unhappy as husbands could not come to terms with themselves. Even after decriminalisation, being gay was definitely not an advantage in public life. But to many men, being active in public life was what they wanted and were successful in hiding their sexuality.

Conservative prime minister Edward (Ted) Heath was probably gay but he sublimated his sexuality to achieve his political ambitions. And he was only one of many men Bloch looks at who had to do the same thing. At what point does ambition triumph over sexual desire? Probably more often than we think. Many other British PM's also had homosexual connections in their lives, either through their own actions or through relationships with others. However, I found it ridiculous for Bloch to include Winston Churchill in this book. He was a man - like many men - who felt more comfortable around other men. If that's being "gay", then there are a lot of previously considered straight men (and women) who could be considered "gay"!

"Sir Norman Fry" - that hilarious-but-ulimately-sad character on "Little Britain" - could really exist today as gay men try to hide their natures behind a wife-and-children exterior. I think its probably being done less today as gay men - like Labour's Peter Mandelson - find it easier and more socially accepted to be out in public life.

Michael Bloch's book, "Closet Queens" is good reading for a narrow base of political junkies. The reader should have access to Wikipedia as Bloch "names names" and it is good to be able to look them up.

[Theresa · Rating 4 out of 5]

Until 1967 homosexuality was a criminal offence and surrounded by hypocrisy.

Within the book the author gives many examples of the hypocrisy, particularly among the aristocracy and upper class.

The book contains accounts of 'closet queen' politicians, some names are familiar to me and more are not known to me. Bloch told the events before and after each person became a politician, their background and martial status along with their relationships with parents, siblings, peers, colleagues, royalty and the general public.

The author avoids sensationalism, it was an interesting read.

In 1958, Churchill said about a minister who had been caught with a soldier in the bushes of St James's Park: 'On the coldest night of the year? It makes you proud to be British'.

Thank you to the publisher and goodreads this was a first read book.

[David · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wanted this book to be great but despite some fascinating sections it felt like it added up to less than the sum of its parts. The author stated they didn't want to draw any conclusions and leave that to the reader, but the absence of any real attempt at analysis or even to properly set the stories of the individuals into the wider context of their times was, for this reader, very frustrating. Instead, the book read ass simply a succession of queer-themed Wikipedia bios, albeit well-written ones. Perhaps a more in-depth focus on a smaller number would have worked better.

[Shriya · Rating 4 out of 5]

Well researched political biography with wonderful pictures.

My favourite chapters were based on Sir Winston Churchill. I was gasping throughout. Although I was not aware of some of the politicians. This book still left me knowing more than I did before.

I would like to thank first reads and LittleBrown UK for providing me with a copy in exchange for an honest review.

[David Brown · Rating 3 out of 5]

Of historical interest - the more recent stuff about Mandelson and Portillo being well known and fewer closet cases after that - but well written, without being sensationalist. Some of it felt stretched, some of it (related to their love and adoration for their sons) was a tad disturbing, but an intriguing read