Anne Simpson FACE TO FACE with George Galloway

War changes everything. For one brief moment in the Commons last Thursday oratory flashed in the air, impassioned and theatrical. If the Iraq debate was notable for the grim solidarity it drew from all sides of the House, it will be remembered also for the fiery imagery deployed by a small, implacable band of dissidents. Taut with anger, his speech precise and thunderous, the combative peace-monger for Glasgow Kelvin condemned Operation Desert Fox as ''a verminous and mangy creature''. Today the end of air strikes does nothing to cool George Galloway's contempt. The true desert fox, he reflects, has been traduced by a shameless takeover of its identity. ''In fact, it's a fine and noble animal, words which will certainly never apply to our actions of recent nights.''

Thursday's denial of a Commons vote on the debate intensified that view for Galloway, and, with the same fervour he demonstrated then, he re-stokes his disgust: ''When Tony Blair speaks of degrading and diminishing Iraq's military arsenal it isn't that arsenal which is degraded and diminished. It is us.'' He believes there may have been as many as 25 dissenting MPs in the Commons that night, among them that venerable scourge, Tony Benn, and other imperishable left-wingers, including Dennis Canavan for Falkirk West, and John McAllion for Dundee East. Their number was also buttressed by Martin Bell, the Tatton Independent, but more tellingly, in this context, a former war correspondent. Additionally, Galloway thinks there may have been more than 100 absentees, itself a good enough reason for cancelling the vote. ''I don't dispute that the Government would have won anyway, but it wouldn't look

good that so many stayed away.''

Politically, of course, Galloway is at odds with almost everything in the Blairite canon, but on the missile raids and what many see as Britain's craven adhesion to America he might just have detected the stirrings of profound disquiet among the electorate. ''From the phone-ins I have done and heard, and the volume of post and e-mails I've received, I would say that at least half the country was deeply uneasy about the invasion, or against it altogether.'' And this time around Galloway knows he has overseas opinion on his side. ''Right through the world there is alarm about the unbelievable attrition imposed on innocent adults and children by the sanctions on Iraq.'' He reminds us of the report produced by Dennis Halliday, a hugely respected United Nations official who was forced to resign after his study revealed the appalling level of privation being endured by the most vulnerable Iraqis.

''Halliday recorded that between 5000 and 6000 children are dying every month. That's about 200 a day.'' Given such conditions, Galloway insists, there is only one imperative left to the West: to return to the drawing board with the sanctions issue placed on it as the immediate priority. ''As long as the Iraqis can see no end to the critical mass suffering that sanctions are causing, then their response to Unscom will always be go boil yer heids. But a clear and proper deal between the UN and Iraq, allowing sanctions to be lifted, would enable weapon inspections to begin again.'' (In response to the raids, Iraq has now declared an end to all inspections.)

Yet if Galloway's solution had been so straightforward, why didn't it occur? He argues that such an outcome is not in American interests. ''Clinton needs Saddam Hussein as the bogeyman because the US now has a gigantic military presence in the region anyhow - 10,000 servicemen - to safeguard that strategic asset, oil.'' Equally, the talk of now encouraging Iraq's opposition parties to overthrow Saddam is empty chatter. ''These parties are intent on breaking up Iraq, and Britain is on record as not supporting that: a Shi'ite state in the south would mean a dagger in the heart of Saudi Arabia, and Kurdish independence would be a dagger in the heart of Syria and Turkey.''

As it is, Galloway believes the Government has erred disastrously in its hasty acceptance of Richard Butler's findings. The chief UN weapons inspector reported, the other week, that Saddam was once again breaking his pledge about unlimited access for Butler's personnel. But Galloway argues that even within the UN, Butler, who is also chairman of Unscom, has a recklessly aggressive reputation. The MP has claimed as much in the Commons, quoting a UN special envoy who describes Butler as a congenital liar. ''Yet on the basis of this man's evidence Clinton and Blair engaged in a ghastly crime against humanity.''

But Galloway's own enemies - of which there are many - maintain that such arguments merely prove that he is, in a phrase, appropriated from Lenin - a permanent apologist for the Iraqi regime. And quite often such scathing dismissal lands big names in trouble. The apologist dig required one more embarrassing retraction from Clare Short, the International Development Secretary, who used the description on BBC Radio Five Live. Galloway claimed he'd been defamed and Short's letter of apology quickly followed. In fact, everyone knows this man is sharper than a scalpel when it comes to litigation; someone who's never lost a libel action.

So, in one curious sense, Galloway has done rather well from others' sneery regard. ''The truth is I have a longer record than most in speaking out against Saddam, a record dating back to before Tony Blair joined the Labour Party.'' The proof, he frequently tells his critics, can be found in transcripts of his speeches. ''I seize every opportunity to land blows on the Iraqi regime,'' he declared earlier this year. ''And not just here but in Baghdad, under the gaze of Iraqi minders.''

Much of Galloway's own scorn focuses on this tightening, and perhaps now frantic, embrace between Britain and America. He maintains that the correlation between US bombing missions on Third World countries and the worsening domestic crises caused by Bill Clinton's zipper, are inescapable. But Galloway must tread delicately here for he also knows the lurid indignity of sex romp headlines; knows, too, the damage done by allegations of funds mis-used. In 1987 he was cleared of claiming excessive expenses from the charity, War on Want. Simultaneously he earned the mocking sobriquet, Gorgeous George, for admitting he had ''carnally acquainted'' himself with two delegates to a famine conference in Greece. ''I don't want to give the impression that Bill Clinton should be removed from office because of a private (sex) act, but he can never be forgiven for spilling innocent blood to save his own political

skin.''

So, despite his vigorous opposition to the Gulf War, Galloway now finds himself in the strange situation of having more respect for the then Republican White House president than he has for the present Democratic incumbent. ''George Bush was a statesman who understood diplomacy. His policy was steady, cautious, and incremental.'' But Galloway also muses that this British eagerness to side with the US against world opinion is not unconnected to ''the sea-change'' which overtook the Commons after Labour's general election victory. Suddenly there was this mighty intake of new MPs with no track record, only a follow-my-leader mentality. ''It struck me very forcibly during Thursday's debate that Tony Benn, a giant in British politics, was being bayed at by people whose names I didn't even know.''

What of his own political flaws; that self-justifying stroppiness, and the refusal to compromise which so often seems to leave Galloway stranded on the rockface of left-wing orthodoxy? Doesn't he mind being loathed? ''Only a fool regrets nothing, but I'm not a grey man fearful of putting a foot wrong, or one who calculates the best route for advancing his career. However, the other side of the coin to not being an opportunist is that you do clash, you do offend. Sometimes I have hurt people and I'm sorry for that. I'm not at all one of those who sees an apology as weakness.'' And his successes? Galloway is proud of his long involvement with the Palestinian cause, his sturdy friendship with Yasser Arafat, and the twinning of Nablus with Dundee. Proud, also, that he was one of the first MPs to acknowledge the importance of recognising Sinn Fein. (In 1990 Galloway appeared on a public platform

with Gerry Adams.) For much this he was called treacherous by the media, but the rapprochement now between world leaders and Arafat and Adams is perhaps Galloway's proudest vindication.

Yet even if he should have gauged public opinion accurately this time, Galloway may never quite obliterate the folk memory of his early, enraging greeting to Saddam Hussein, the one that went: Sir, I salute your courage, your strength, your indefatigability . . . He has always argued that the words were directed towards the fortitude of Iraq's long-suffering citizens but, apart from anything else, the language is not untypical of someone who prefers old-fashioned, political bombast to date-stamped soundbites. And what of that word, maverick? Galloway detests it when journalists pin it on him perjoratively. But if it means a person of independent mind, he'll wear the label with relish. Chambers Dictionary provides another definition: a stray animal without an owner's brand. That's quite a good fit, too. Not just for George Galloway but for the desert's one authentic fox.