Philip Hensher: The legend of Arthur must leave no legacy
[Professor of Creative Writing at the University of Exeter, Philip Hensher was among Granta 20 Best of Young British Novelists in 2003.]
In 1972, during one of a long series of skirmishes between the National Union of Mineworkers and Conservative governments, a Communist leader of the South Wales miners, Dai Francis, trying to organise flying pickets, had a call from Arthur Scargill.
According to Francis's son Hywel, Scargill said: "Look, Dai, we need pickets up at Saltley, in Birmingham ... tomorrow, Saturday." Dai paused. "But Wales are playing Scotland at Cardiff Arms Park." Scargill replied: "But Dai, the working class are playing the ruling class at Saltley."
Yes, no doubt about it, Scargill was always a figure of ludicrous comic appeal. With his hair, posturing, humourlessness and fantasies of power, he was a figure Dickens might have relished. Most of all, there was his office. We have Kim Howells as witness for that: "This big painting of Arthur on the back of a lorry in this Leninist pose ... urging the working class to overthrow the oppressors. I thought that anyone who can put a painting like that behind his desk is nuts."
Scargill wasn't nuts but he was puffed up with ludicrous self-confidence – Mrs Thatcher was wise never to give him the kudos of a face-to-face meeting. Now, with the 25th anniversary of the last miners' strike, Scargill is being wheeled out to reflect on this major episode. Before, however, anyone starts treating him as some sort of wise elder, we might like to remind ourselves of the culture around him.
Remember that during the 1972 strike, the NUM officials came out of negotiations and said they'd run out of things to demand, everything having been agreed. Dai Francis said they might as well return to work, since "we haven't got any more concessions to ask for". "Yes," the Kentish delegation replied, "but just give us a bit more time and we can think of something."
Scargill's account of the 1984 strike, published over the weekend, is a statement of quite astonishing self-delusion. He believes that the miners' success in a smaller strike of 1981 could have been repeated, when in fact Mrs Thatcher withdrew on that occasion, waiting her moment to challenge.
He goes on insisting that no ballot on strike action was necessary, since a democratic vote not to take a strike ballot at a conference on 19 April was decisive – come on, do you believe in democracy for your members or not?
Amazingly, he still insists that the strike was on the verge of triumph in November when he and his members were betrayed by NACODS, other unions and so on. Anyone who remembers the trickle of returning miners turning into a flood towards the end will remember the sheer self-delusion of this belief. About the single most striking failure of the strike, Scargill's tactically catastrophic decision to call a strike in May with coal stocks at a historic high, he has nothing to say.
Could it happen again? Certainly, the erosion of trade union rights has gone too far, and the revelation of the circulation of blacklists among employers in Britain is genuinely shocking. But any revival of respect for the vain potentates of late-1970s and early-1980s trade unions should be firmly resisted. In this disastrous economic climate, siren voices are demanding protection for British workers. The closed shop and the truly destructive strike can't be far behind.
Scargill said at the weekend that the 1984 strike was "a truly historic fight that gave birth to the magnificent Women Against Pit Closures and the miners' support groups." Let's leave its sad legacy at that, shall we?..
Read entire article at Independent (UK)
In 1972, during one of a long series of skirmishes between the National Union of Mineworkers and Conservative governments, a Communist leader of the South Wales miners, Dai Francis, trying to organise flying pickets, had a call from Arthur Scargill.
According to Francis's son Hywel, Scargill said: "Look, Dai, we need pickets up at Saltley, in Birmingham ... tomorrow, Saturday." Dai paused. "But Wales are playing Scotland at Cardiff Arms Park." Scargill replied: "But Dai, the working class are playing the ruling class at Saltley."
Yes, no doubt about it, Scargill was always a figure of ludicrous comic appeal. With his hair, posturing, humourlessness and fantasies of power, he was a figure Dickens might have relished. Most of all, there was his office. We have Kim Howells as witness for that: "This big painting of Arthur on the back of a lorry in this Leninist pose ... urging the working class to overthrow the oppressors. I thought that anyone who can put a painting like that behind his desk is nuts."
Scargill wasn't nuts but he was puffed up with ludicrous self-confidence – Mrs Thatcher was wise never to give him the kudos of a face-to-face meeting. Now, with the 25th anniversary of the last miners' strike, Scargill is being wheeled out to reflect on this major episode. Before, however, anyone starts treating him as some sort of wise elder, we might like to remind ourselves of the culture around him.
Remember that during the 1972 strike, the NUM officials came out of negotiations and said they'd run out of things to demand, everything having been agreed. Dai Francis said they might as well return to work, since "we haven't got any more concessions to ask for". "Yes," the Kentish delegation replied, "but just give us a bit more time and we can think of something."
Scargill's account of the 1984 strike, published over the weekend, is a statement of quite astonishing self-delusion. He believes that the miners' success in a smaller strike of 1981 could have been repeated, when in fact Mrs Thatcher withdrew on that occasion, waiting her moment to challenge.
He goes on insisting that no ballot on strike action was necessary, since a democratic vote not to take a strike ballot at a conference on 19 April was decisive – come on, do you believe in democracy for your members or not?
Amazingly, he still insists that the strike was on the verge of triumph in November when he and his members were betrayed by NACODS, other unions and so on. Anyone who remembers the trickle of returning miners turning into a flood towards the end will remember the sheer self-delusion of this belief. About the single most striking failure of the strike, Scargill's tactically catastrophic decision to call a strike in May with coal stocks at a historic high, he has nothing to say.
Could it happen again? Certainly, the erosion of trade union rights has gone too far, and the revelation of the circulation of blacklists among employers in Britain is genuinely shocking. But any revival of respect for the vain potentates of late-1970s and early-1980s trade unions should be firmly resisted. In this disastrous economic climate, siren voices are demanding protection for British workers. The closed shop and the truly destructive strike can't be far behind.
Scargill said at the weekend that the 1984 strike was "a truly historic fight that gave birth to the magnificent Women Against Pit Closures and the miners' support groups." Let's leave its sad legacy at that, shall we?..