Can this be true? In the land of warm beer and test matches
in cricket that last five days without a result? This is what happened then.
The times of the post-War boom were fat years for most
working class people. Living standards went up year after year and there was
virtually full employment. As a result the labour movement had built up
enormous strength.
But the golden era was coming to an end. The ruling class
could see it was time to settle accounts with the working class. In 1970, Edward
Heath’s Tories were elected and introduced a new repressive piece of
legislation against trade unions – the Industrial Relations Act and its
centrepiece, the National Industrial Relations Court to put workers in their
place.
The following episode is taken from Rob Sewell’s book ‘In
the cause of labour ‘.
The preceding Labour
government had called time on casual labour on the docks – the humiliating
ritual of standing in line to be picked out by a charge hand or sent back home
without a job and a wage.
The dock strike to defend this reform was official,
supported by the dockers’ union, the TGWU.
The dockers picketed various warehouses that were technically not their
employers. They knew that –
- Secondary
picketing was effective picketing - Mass
picketing was effective picketing.
These are both activities that are currently illegal.
Under the Industrial Relations Act the union could be held
responsible for the actions of its members and fined. This secondary picketing
was actually a rank and file initiative.
The warehouses the dockers were picketing applied for an
injunction, a court order to stop. When the dockers disobeyed they were put in
prison – for being trade unionists and defending their livelihoods.
The TUC called a one day general strike. But organised
didn’t wait for this. Miners, print workers and engineers started to down tools
and walk out. An unofficial general strike was taking place under our old
slogan, ‘an injury to one is an injury to all.’
The ruling class backed down. They found the Official
Solicitor, a post invented six hundred years before for just this purpose, to
let the workers walk free. The capitalist class knew that no wheel turns unless
we say so. We have the power. We still do. We just have to discover it, as
workers did thirty five years ago.
The Road to Pentonville
Of all the great working class victories in history, the miners’ strike of
1972 stands out as one of the greatest. Since the beginning of the century, the
miners had been at the centre of all important working class struggles in
Britain. However the defeat of 1926 struck a heavy blow against the miners, who
saw their communities crucified by hunger and unemployment. After decades of
keeping their heads down, the miners had finally emerged victorious and given
the ruling class a bloody nose. It was their revenge for the heavy defeats of
the past. Moreover, since they were regarded traditionally as the advanced guard
of the British proletariat, the miners’ victory was regarded as a triumph of the
whole working class.
The miners’ victory had set alarm bells ringing in upper class circles. The
government was profoundly worried by the general spread of industrial and civil
disorder. A secret government report a few weeks after the miners’ strike
revealed, "A majority of shop floor workers lacked appreciation of the risks of
lawlessness and were easily led by comparatively few but energetic elements
intent on subversion." Another observer, Paul Ferris, stated: "The trade union
movement is more left-wing than at any time in its history� The idea of ‘direct
action’, of using unions for political ends, has revived after half a century."
(1)
The Civil Contingencies Unit was established under Brigadier Richard Bishop
in the spring of 1972 to deal with any such potential disorder. The CCU was kept
secret and its very existence was still officially denied a decade later. A
report in The Times revealed that "by early 1973 ministers had detailed
estimates of 16 key industries, their capacity for disruption, their importance
to the country’s well-being and the possibility of using alternative military
labour in the event of strikes." (2)
In the spring of 1972, after some trouble on the railways, a battle flared up
on the docks. The Tories had made no secret of the fact that they were keen to
get rid of the National Dock Labour Scheme, which protected dockers from the
indignities of casual labour. The Tory Cabinet nevertheless decided not to press
ahead, because, according to an internal report, "union officials were having
difficulty retaining control, in the face of increasing militancy at a local
level". However, their caution was upset by the news that two haulage firms,
Heaton’s and Craddock’s, had taken legal action against the TGWU for allowing
their members (unofficially) to boycott their haulage business in protest
against containerisation.
Typically, the NIRC under the chairmanship of Tory judge Sir John Donaldson
proclaimed that the TGWU nationally was responsible for their stewards’ actions
at the Heaton’s terminal and were in breach of the law. In the light of union
policy, the TGWU refused to attend the court hearing and was fined �5,000 for
contempt. Then, with the blacking still in place, an additional fine of �50,000
was imposed with the threat of total sequestration of the union’s assets if the
union failed to comply with the order to lift the boycott. The capitalist courts
had thrown down the gauntlet. But instead of calling a national strike of the
TGWU, which would have brought the country to a complete standstill within
hours, the union leadership decided to take its case to the TUC.
If the union leaders had gone at first to its own rank and file with an
appeal to defend the union, there is no doubt they would have been met with a
massive response. Then a call for solidarity could have been made to other
unions. Given the size and influence of the TGWU, a strike by this union alone
would have been equivalent to a general strike. But the leaders were not
prepared for this kind of showdown and decided on what they regarded as a safer
route. This proved a fatal mistake.
"The union was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea", stated Jack
Jones. "From the dockers there were increasing calls for a national strike; on
the other hand the threat of sequestration posed a challenge to the very
existence of the TGWU. Because of its size the TGWU was very vulnerable, but I
was still convinced that a collective response by the whole trade union movement
could defeat the challenge�
"In the event, when the General Council had had spelled out to it the need to
back the TGWU with all the consequences that might follow defiance of the court,
some of the members � according to one commentator � ‘ran like rabbits
frightened by gunfire’. A motion I proposed � ‘that the TGWU be advised to
continue the policy of non-co-operation with the National Industrial Relations
Court; that any financial penalty involved is accepted as the responsibility of
the TUC; and that a fund be organised for this purpose � was ruled out of
order by the chairman.
"At a later meeting a similar motion by Dick Briginshaw was shelved. The
majority on the General Council decided to hedge its bets; the TGWU was advised
to pay the fines and it was decided that unions should have the right to be
represented at the NIRC, without prior consultation with the General Council, ‘where
offensive actions were taken against unions or their members’. To sugar the pill
it was also agreed that, in the case of the TGWU, ‘a measure of financial
responsibility should be accepted by the TUC.’ In fact, when it came to the
point, a paltry �20,000 was paid to the TGWU. It was offered reluctantly and I
accepted it as a token rather than engaging in a dutch auction with Vic Feather.
I felt let down. I realised then how weak an instrument the General Council was,
and tried to get approval for the calling of a special congress so that the
whole movement could determine its position. I said there was a need to
re-establish unity against the Industrial Relations Act and to adopt positive
policies which would show that the movement meant what it said. Although I was
supported by Hugh Scanlon and others, we were defeated by fifteen votes to
eleven." (3)
Jack Jones, who was a genuine left-winger and a very sincere man,
nevertheless demonstrated a lack of understanding when he writes that the size
of the TGWU was a source of "vulnerability". This demonstrated a lack of
confidence in the ranks of the union on the part of even the best of the Lefts.
Some weeks later the dockers showed that they were clearly prepared to struggle
against the Tory government. But they now looked for a fighting lead from the
top. Unfortunately, no such lead was forthcoming, and the workers were left to
their own devices.
The T&G leadership was split with Jack Jones unfortunately arguing to
support the line of the TUC. When the vote was taken on the executive committee,
the decision of the TUC to pay the fines was carried by a wafer-thin majority.
The opposition to the Tory anti-union laws, so heroically taken up from below,
was coming apart at the top of the movement. Nevertheless, despite the wobbling
of the leadership, the dock shop stewards remained defiant and refused to lift
the boycott of the haulage companies.
Pentonville Five
A worried Tory Cabinet met to review the situation and discuss tactics. Its
memorandum of the 18 July 1972 recognised that an "unofficial shop stewards
committee still has support from many moderate-minded dockers because they fear
for their jobs." Options were then discussed: a state of emergency, rationing of
essential food, and the requisitioning of vehicles to transport food around the
country. But as the Cabinet wracked its brains for a solution, events began to
overtake them.
The haulage bosses sought a court order to halt picketing at the Chodham Farm
container depot, but were turned down by the Court of Appeal. However, the
Midland Cold Storage Company, which was also being blockaded, succeeded in
bringing its own injunction. On hearing the news, the dispute rapidly spread
throughout the London docks. On the evidence of private detectives, five dockers
were arrested and imprisoned in Pentonville Prison on 21 July. As the news
spread about the "Pentonville Five", the working class erupted. 44,000 dockers
and 130,000 other workers immediately downed tools in protest. Docks were
brought to a complete standstill at London, Liverpool, Cardiff, Swansea,
Glasgow, Bristol, Felixtowe, Leith, Chatham, Ipswich, Middlesborough and even
King’s Lynn. This was the magnificent spontaneous answer from the working class
to a direct attack on their organisations.
The movement spread like wildfire from below. Tommy Hilton, the spokesman for
the Swansea dockers said: "People must realise that this is not a dockers’
strike, but a strike in defence of trade union rights against the Industrial
Relations Act." Pressure mounted rapidly on the TUC General Council to act.
Belatedly they were forced to call (by 18 votes to 7) a one-day general strike
scheduled for 31 July. This was in complete contrast to the platitudes of TUC
general secretary Vic Feather, who had some weeks earlier dismissed the idea of
a general strike as a complete fantasy: "Such things happen in Italy and France,
but not in Britain", he had said.
The marvellous movement from below had the potential to develop into an
all-out general strike. Either the Tories would make big concessions, or the
whole situation threatened to spiral out of control. The TUC was reluctantly
forced to put itself at the head of this movement. They wished to steer it into
safe channels, but this was also extremely risky because if the one-day general
strike had gone ahead, there was no guarantee that it would last 24-hours. The
whole situation was extremely volatile.
Panicking, the Tory government called in the Official Solicitor, an obscure
unknown legal figure, to bail them out of the crisis. The law was now
reinterpreted to state that the Courts held the unions, rather than individual
pickets, responsible for their actions. The Pentonville Five were immediately
released and the general strike, to the utter relief of the TUC leaders, was
called off. The Times humorously compared the actions of the Tory government to
a "disordered slot-machine, which produced a succession of unforeseen results,
mostly raspberry flavoured."
On 28 July, when dockers struck again over job security, the government
declared another state of emergency. The question of sending in the troops to
break the strike was raised, then dropped like a hot potato. A few days later, a
government contingency group reported, "If troops were used there is a real
danger of sympathetic action by lorry drivers and others which would be more
damaging than the present situation." The dockers’ national shop stewards
committee stepped up their campaign to close all ports using unregistered
labour. By mid-August the Tory government was forced to accept a deal to end the
action.
A further skirmish over the Industrial Relations Act occurred when the
engineering union, the AUEW, was fined �55,000 on 1 December 1972, for refusing
union membership to James Goad, a scab, lay preacher, and crusader for the "freedom
of the individual". The union’s refusal to pay resulted in the fine being
sequestrated from the union’s funds by the Courts. In the face of this blatant
attack on trade unionism, 750,000 workers struck unofficially. The AUEW
leadership, however, confined themselves to verbal protests. In reality, as the
dockers had shown, the only effective means of crippling the anti-union laws was
through the militant actions of the mass movement. But the leaders of the trade
unions, both right and left, did not relish the prospect of a direct challenge
to the Tory government, and they recoiled.
Shrewsbury trial
1972 saw not only the first official miners’ strike but also the first
official building workers’ strike since the 1920s. Building workers, whose
separate unions merged to form the Union of Construction, Allied Trades and
Technicians (UCATT) in 1971, staged their national stoppage for �30 for a
35-hour week, and for the abolition of lump (self-contract) labour. The 13-week
strike resulted in increased union organisation and the biggest single rise ever
negotiated in the building industry. Again, the key weapon in this struggle was
the use of flying pickets that toured around the construction sites ensuring the
strike was solid.
The Tory government was desperate to contain the situation and stop the mass
picketing. They decided to achieve this by making an example of those guilty of
mass picketing, by framing them on charges of intimidation, violence and
conspiracy. They hoped this would stop the militant workers and act as a
deterrent to others. As a consequence arrests were made of two-dozen leading
building workers in the North Wales area. The trial of the "Shrewsbury 24", as
it was called, was a political trial. It was a deliberate conspiracy of the
Employers’ Federation, government and state, to frame the men and demonstrate to
everyone that militancy does not pay.
"I have heard the judge say that this was not a political trial, just an
ordinary criminal case, and I refute that with every fibre of my being�"
stated one of the accused, Ricky Tomlinson. "I look forward to the day when the
real culprits, the McAlpines, the Wimpeys, the Laings and the Bovis’ and their
political bodies are in the dock facing charge of conspiracy to intimidate
workers from doing what is their lawful right � picketing."
Des Warren was just as defiant.
"Mr Bumble said ‘The law is an ass’. If he were here now he might draw the
conclusion that the law is quite clearly the instrument of the state to be used
in the interests of a tiny minority against the majority." (4)
In the end, six men were found guilty in the capitalist courts of unlawful
assembly and three of affray. On appeal, the charge of affray was quashed.
McKinsie Jones, Des Warren, and Ricky Tomlinson were found guilty of conspiracy.
The latter got nine months, three years and two years respectively. In the
subsequent trials, pressure was brought on defendants to plea guilty to unlawful
assembly to avoid the charge of conspiracy. Some accepted the deal, while others
steadfastly refused. Brian Williams, Arthur Murray and Mike Pierce were
subsequently found guilty on unlawful assembly and affray and were given
sentences of six months and four months concurrent.
In the last of the trials, Terry Renshaw, John Seaburg and Lennie Williams
again refused to plead guilty to unlawful assembly. Seaburg was found guilty on
both charges and got suspended sentences of six and four months, while Renshaw
and Williams were found guilty of unlawful assembly and given suspended
sentences of four months. These were class laws passed against those who
challenged the employers and their state, every much as those against the
Tolpuddle Martyrs or the Glasgow spinners. Now as then, the spirit of these men
was not broken.
Des Warren wrote optimistically from his prison cell:
"I was greatly encouraged by the sentiments expressed in it as in all the
other messages of support my family and myself have received from comrades and
fellow workers from all over the country. I tend to be something of an optimist
and so tend to put setbacks such as the position Mac Jones, Eric Tomlinson, me
and our families find themselves in, in their right perspective and gauge them
against the advances made.
"Through their attack on the trade union movement and workers’ reaction to
it, in the form of ‘Free the Three’ campaign, new links, contacts and
friendships have been made and unity is being formed as with the miners’ fight,
which will last until long after we are out of prison and which will stand the
movement in good stead in the continuing struggle, for these reasons I believe
our time in prison will not have been in vain and I look forward to my day of
release so that I can rejoin that struggle, not with a feeling of bitterness or
revenge but with a strengthened resolve to help bring about a socialist Britain."
(5)
Scandalously, despite the campaign of protests, Warren and Tomlinson were
left to serve the remainder of their prison sentence under a new Labour
government, which came to power in February 1974. The Labour Home Secretary, Roy
Jenkins (who crossed the floor and ended up as a Lord) refused to "compromise
the law of the land". Ricky Tomlinson was released on 25 July 1975. Des Warren
was then left isolated in prison. At the end of his sentence Des Warren served
six months in solitary confinement, was reported on 36 occasions by prison
officers and moved 15 times through ten different prisons.
Maltreatment in prison undermined Warren’s health and destroyed his family
life. Tragically, he contracted Parkinson’s disease. Such was the pressure on
Warren and his family that in February 1976 his wife Elsa suffered a nervous
breakdown and their five children were taken into care. The stress finally
resulted in a family break-up and eventual divorce. Today, Des resides at home
in the North East, crippled by illness, and remarried to his former carer Pat.
The last time Des Warren appeared in public was three years ago at the Durham
miners’ gala, but since then his health has continued to deteriorate. The
expense of his care was met by a trust fund set up by the Durham miners’
mechanics and the Wear Valley and District Trades Council. Eric Tomlinson, who
was blacked for his union activities, subsequently became famous as a result of
his acting career, but remains true, now as then, to the cause of trade unionism
and the working class.
1972 could be accurately described as the year of industrial insurrection.
23,909,000 days were lost through strikes � excluding about 4 million lost
through political action. Even if the figures for the miners’ strike are
excluded, only once, in 1919, was the number of strike days greater. Old
traditions of militancy were being reborn. This titanic movement on the
industrial front was also shaking up the Labour Party. Under the impact of this
militancy, Labour’s NEC also began to swing to the left. For the first time
since the 1920s, a left grouping emerged simultaneously on both the TUC General
Council and the Labour Party NEC.
As always, the right wing on the TUC General Council was still interested in
collaborating with the Tories. In April 1972, the TUC was invited to Downing
Street to meet Ted Heath and discuss the economic situation.
"Before this was reported to the General Council Vic Feather had a word with
me in a heavily confidential way", stated Jack Jones. "At that stage I was
opposed to such a meeting and I quizzed Vic, saying: ‘Why do you keep having
these private meetings? They may give the impression that we’re weak, when it’s
the government that’s taking a battering!’ His reply was: ‘We’ve got to talk.
Ted’s coming our way.’ He knew he was on an easy wicket with a majority of the
General Council, who at that time were opposed to confrontation with the
government. A motion objecting to the talks was defeated by 21 votes to 9.
"Should we talk to the government, if they want to talk to us? That question
became an issue the General Council debated over many months." However, in due
course, Jack Jones succumbed to the pressure and went along with it. "I became
convinced that it was in our members’ interests not to miss an opportunity of
changing the government’s mind." (6)
The right wing was desperate to avoid a confrontation with the Tories and
attempted to curtail the growing militancy from below. However, the Lefts had no
perspective for the movement. Instead of preparing the ground and mobilising the
workers to bring down the government, they dithered and prevaricated, and
eventually capitulated to the right wing on the General Council. When it came
down to it, they all had illusions about how they could influence the Tories
through discussion. They treated the whole affair as a polite conversation,
rather than a struggle of mutually antagonistic class interests.
These illusions did not take them very far. To their utter bewilderment, the
trade union leaders were shown the door by the government.
"Proposals and counter-proposals were argued over the table. The TUC and the
government spokesmen did most of the talking, the CBI contribution was very
limited", continued Jones. "Then, after countless hours of meetings, there was
an abrupt ending. To the surprise of the trade union side, Ted Heath declared
that certain important items we had been emphasising � pensions, rents, the
impact of EEC membership, Industrial Relations Act � were outside the scope of
negotiation. Such matters, we were told, were for the House of Commons to
determine. A rigid posture was suddenly adopted by the government; even to this
day I am unable to understand why.
"No one could have been more disappointed than Vic Feather. He had been a
firm supporter of the talks throughout and had taken at face value the
government’s claim that it was prepared to enter into a real partnership with
both sides of industry in the management of the economy. He felt that Ted Heath
had thrown away a golden opportunity."
Here Jack Jones reveals the real face of Toryism: "In place of talks we had
confrontation." But still the General Council, fearing the alternative, wanted
to convince Heath of the error of his ways: "The government must be given a
chance to get off the hook," pleaded Len Murray, the new general secretary of
the TUC. But it did not do them a bit of good. The door of Number Ten was firmly
closed.
In November 1972, the Heath government imposed "Phase One" of a statutory
incomes policy, which was met with muted response. This was later followed by "Phase
Two". After the tremendous struggles of the previous two years, there was an
inevitable ebb on the industrial front. The mass movement, which had reached
unprecedented heights, could not be sustained indefinitely, especially as no
clear alternative was coming from the top. After a period of prolonged
militancy, workers had to "take a breather" and take stock of the situation.
This lull in the movement continued for most of 1973. The number of days lost
through strikes declined dramatically. From a peak of 24 million strike-days
lost, the figure plummeted to just under 8 million. Despite the pause, the
number of shop stewards had risen to around 300,000 and trade union membership
was rising substantially, especially amongst white collar and professional
workers. With practically every layer of the working class involved in strike
action over the previous few years, confidence was very high. The possibility of
a general strike, given the provocative behaviour of the Tories, was implicit in
the situation. Britain had entered an epoch of sharp turns and sudden changes,
politically, economically and industrially.
The turnaround in the industrial situation took place towards the end of
1973, which coincided with the announcement of "Phase Three" of the Tories’
incomes policy. This now allowed a 7 per cent wage norm � well below the rate
of inflation. If accepted, it would mean a significant cut in living standards.
Earlier in the year, miners had rejected strike action over wages, however,
resentment began to build up. The Left had strengthened its position in the NUM,
and Mick McGahey, a leading member of the CPGB, had been newly elected as
vice-president. War in the Middle East led to the quadrupling of oil prices,
which tipped the world economy into the first major slump since the 1930s. This
energy squeeze served to increase the bargaining power of the miners. This was
put to full use in a new substantial wage claim. As part of a national campaign,
an overtime ban was introduced throughout the coalfields on 12 November.
In an attempt to isolate the miners, the Heath government hit back by
announcing a state of emergency and then on 1 January 1974, the introduction of
a three-day working week, ostensibly to save energy. Street lighting was cut
back and television was ordered to close down every night at 10.30 p.m. "Already
the country felt on the brink of a major crisis", stated William Whitelaw. (7)
By the middle of January more than one million workers had been laid off work. A
national ballot in early February recorded a massive 81 per cent majority in
favour of strike action � far higher than in 1972. The second national miners’
strike was announced for 9 February 1974. Fearing a humiliating repeat of 1972,
Heath gambled the fate of his entire government in a new general election. A few
days before the miners’ strike was due to begin, the dissolution of Parliament
was announced and a snap general election was called for 28 February.
As expected, the capitalist press attempted to whip up a campaign against the
miners, talking of an alleged threat to democracy. "Who runs the country?
Parliament or the militants?" were the banner headlines at the time. But despite
all the attempts by Heath to win a panic election, a decisive section of workers
and the middle class, sickened by the Tories, were looking to the Labour Party.
Reflecting the radicalisation on the industrial front, the Labour Party had
moved sharply to the left. In October 1973, the Party conference had endorsed a
radical programme that included the nationalisation of the top 25 monopolies.
Although the right wing still controlled the contents of the election
Manifesto and watered down the Party’s socialist commitments, it was still very
radical. Labour entered the election promising to "bring about a fundamental and
irreversible shift in the balance of power and wealth in favour of working
people and their families." Even the arch right-winger Dennis Healey, the shadow
Chancellor, threatened to "squeeze the rich till the pips squeaked".
The ruling class were alarmed by these developments:
"� the Labour Party has become a threat to the constitution, both in
Opposition and in government", stated the ex-Conservative Minister, Ian Gilmour.
"Extremists have penetrated it at every level, and swung it violently to the
Left. As Lord George-Brown said in April 1972, ‘in the fifties and sixties the
men at the head of the unions were genuine social democrats� Now, I think
today that the situation is different. The major unions are the subjects of a
different kind of leadership, with a different outlook.’ And he added shortly
afterwards: ‘We have been taken over. And we have been taken over by a
collection of people who call themselves "activists". But they are for the most
part people who do not believe in our way of life or in our social democratic
outlook� And these fellows have now captured control of the Labour movement at
every level; constituency parties; trade union branches; executives of the trade
unions; the General Council of the TUC; the Labour Party National Executive; and
the Shadow Cabinet." (8)
In the end, the whole panic election gamble backfired and the Tory government
went down to defeat. The Labour Party won 301 seats to the Tories’ 296. The
Liberals had managed to pick up 14 seats, and in theory held the balance of
power. Heath desperately tried to cling on to office, holding secret discussions
on 2 March with Jeremy Thorpe, the leader of the Liberal Party, in an attempt to
patch together some form of coalition. This farce turned to dust when the
Liberal headquarters was inundated with 3,000 telegrams of protest. The forlorn
attempt to cobble together a coalition government to keep Labour out of office
fell flat. It was a humiliating episode for Heath. And so on 4 March, with his
tail between his legs, he resigned. "This has been an historic dispute. It is
the first time that an industrial stoppage has provoked a general election and
indirectly brought about the downfall of a government", stated the editorial of
The Times a few days later. (9)
Labour once again came to power in early March 1974. On 11 March, the miners
returned to work with major concessions. On the same day, Margaret Thatcher
defeated Edward Heath to become the new leader of the Tory Party. The collapse
of the Tory government was certainly a turning point in the Labour movement. For
the first time in British history, an elected government had been brought down
by industrial action. "It was certainly the worst time in my political life",
recalled Tory minister Willie Whitelaw. Now, organised Labour looked to the new
Labour government to carry through its radical commitments, and, in particular,
sweep away the detested Tory anti-union legislation.
1- Paul Ferris, The New Militants, p.8, London, 1972
2- The Times, 13 November 1979
3- Jack Jones, op. cit, pp.247-48
4- Quoted in Jim Arnison, The Shrewsbury Three, pp.73 and 75, London 1974
5- Ibid, pp.10-11, London, 1974
6- Jones, op. cit, p.255
7- Whitelaw, op. cit, p.126
8- Gilmour, op. cit, pp.200-201
9- The Times, 7 March 1974
