The state is "doing a Robert Maxwell" on doctors' pensions

What difference does it make if you or I think that doctors get paid too little or too much? They had an agreement.

Last month I re-read Maurice Sendak’s Where The Wild Things Are. A meaningless gesture to an author, sadly, now gone. I always remember being annoyed and confused as a child, reading the bit where Max joins the eponymous Wild Things in mindlessly destroying their own homes in a “wild rumpus”. The casual irrationality still makes no sense to me.

I find myself harbouring similar frustrations watching the debate over the doctors’ industrial action today. Conservative MPs, one after the other, condemned the strike in the strongest and least constructive terms. Maybe you have sympathy with their arguments; maybe you think doctors have a pretty cushy deal. Conversely, perhaps you think there is something to the notion that a vocation the skills for which take many years to attain, which involves long hours and difficult conditions, ought to be well rewarded.

Whatever your position, there is one argument which is almost never articulated. And it is, strangely enough, an argument which is absolutely vital to the system those same right-wing advocates support. It is this: Doctors have an agreement on their pensions; a freely entered into bargain with the nation’s largest employer – the state.

When I graduated, I had options. Career paths which led to expensive cars and summer homes in the South of France gleamed ahead of me. I chose instead to join the Civil Service, knowing that my earnings would always hover between 30 per cent -50 per cent lower than someone of equivalent experience in the private sector. I did so, partly because I knew I would find the work more fulfilling, but partly because I took stock of the environment within which I would function, the relative job security and, yes, the relatively generous pension scheme.

After a change of career, I am happily not in a position where 20 years later, having fulfilled more than half of my part of bargain, my employer can turn around and unilaterally change the terms of the agreement. But make no mistake – this is precisely what is happening to doctors. The state is effectively "doing a Robert Maxwell". Doctors are being screwed out of something that they thought had been agreed and was kept safely aside for their old age. And they have every right to bitch about it.

The contract is the cornerstone of free-market capitalism. Those eroding its solidity at the state level are engaging in an act of utter folly. The very same people who claim to be advocates of entrepreneurship and small business, are reducing the ground on which those concepts are built to quicksand. How would small businesses feel if their customers, after a product or a service had been supplied, turned around and said "I think I agreed to too high a price, times are hard, I’ll just pay you half and there is nothing you can do about it"?

Nothing exempts the state from being responsible for its contractual obligations. There is no excuse for those who tout “market confidence” as a vital goal to claim that the basic principle which underpins it, does not apply to them. There is no intellectual consistency in arguing one day that one should not interfere with corporate salaries and bonuses because these Captains of Industry possess rarefied skills, while devaluing the skill of the person who can restart your heart after it has stopped.

What difference does it make if you or I think that doctors get paid too little or too much? They had an agreement – same as you do with your employer, with the garage that fixed your car, with the travel agency through which you booked your holiday. The fact that their agreement is huge and involves tens of thousands of employees should make it more, not less sacrosanct.

Now, there may be intervening reasons which make the breach inevitable. There may be mysterious forces majeures, which mean there is no money in the coffer for doctors, while there is for cutting the top rate of tax. But such a position needs to be fully explained.

And any renegotiation of such contracts must start with a full admission that the state got it wrong and a plea for doctors’ understanding. Rather than an arrogant shrug of the shoulders and a cynical attempt to make people fighting for what is legally theirs look bad in the press. A change of administration does not vitiate the state’s contractual responsibilities.

So, those Wild Things peddling their views from television studios to Whitehall lawns, need to take a step back and assess, truly assess, the effects of their attitude on future recruitment, on consumer spending, on market confidence and on the free-market capitalism which they worship. Truly assess the consequences of their position. Because their true position is that a contract with the UK’s biggest employer, biggest buyer of goods, biggest procurer of services, is not worth the paper on which it is written.

Doctors. Photograph: Getty Images

Greek-born, Alex Andreou has a background in law and economics. He runs the Sturdy Beggars Theatre Company and blogs here You can find him on twitter @sturdyalex

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Misogynoir: How social media abuse exposes longstanding prejudices against black women

After decades as an MP, Diane Abbott finally spoke out about the racist and sexist abuse she faces. But she's not alone. 

“Which STD will end your miserable life?” “This is why monkeys don’t belong here.” “I hope you get lynched”. These are just some of the many messages Seyi Akiwowo, a Labour councillor in Newham, told me she has been sent over the past three weeks. Akiwowo has received reams of violent and racist abuse after a video of her suggesting former empires pay reparations to countries they once colonised (and whose resources they still continue to plunder) went viral. She doesn’t expect everyone to agree with her, she said, but people seem to think they’re entitled to hurl abuse at her because she’s a black woman.

The particular intensity of misogyny directed at black women is so commonplace that it was given a name by academic Moya Bailey: misogynoir. This was highlighted recently when Diane Abbott, the country’s first and most-well known black woman MP and current shadow Home secretary, spoke out about the violent messages she’s received and continues to receive. The messages are so serious that Abbott’s staff often fear for her safety. There is an implicit point in abuse like this: women of colour, in particular black women, should know their place. If they dare to share their opinions, they’ll be attacked for it.

There is no shortage of evidence to show women of colour are sent racist and sexist messages for simply having an opinion or being in the public eye, but there is a dearth of meaningful responses. “I don’t see social media companies or government leaders doing enough to rectify the issue,” said Akiwowo, who has reported some of the abuse she’s received. Chi Onwurah, shadow minister for Business, Innovation and Skills, agreed. “The advice from social media experts is not to feed the trolls, but that vacates the public space for them," she said. But ignoring abuse is a non-solution. Although Onwurah notes the police and media giants are beginning to take this abuse seriously, not enough is being done.

Akiwowo has conversations with young women of colour who become less sure they want to go into politics after seeing the way people like Abbott have been treated. It’s an unsurprising reaction. Kate Osamor, shadow secretary of state for International Development, argued no one should have to deal with the kind of vitriol Abbott does. It’s well documented that the ease and anonymity of social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook have changed the nature of communication – and for politicians, this means more abuse, at a faster pace and at all hours of the day. Social media, Onwurah said, has given abuse a “new lease of life”. There needs to be a concerted effort to stop people from using these platforms to spout their odious views.

But there is another layer to understanding misogyny and racism in public life. The rapid and anonymous, yet public, nature of social media has shone a light on what women of colour already know to be a reality. Dawn Butler MP, who has previously described racism as the House of Commons’ “dirty little secret”, told me “of course” she has experienced racism and sexism in Parliament: “What surprises me is when other people are surprised”. Perhaps that’s because there’s an unwillingness to realise or really grapple the pervasiveness of misogynoir.

“Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to get someone to understand the discriminatory nature of peoples’ actions,” Butler explained. “That itself is demoralising and exhausting.” After 30 years of racist and sexist treatment, it was only when Abbott highlighted the visceral abuse she experiences that politicians and commentators were willing to speak out in her support. Even then, there seemed to be little recognition of how deep this ran. In recent years, the Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn has been ridiculed for having a relationship with her in the 70s, as if a black woman’s sexuality is both intriguing and laughable; people regularly imply she’s incompetent, despite having been in Parliament for three decades and at the last general election increasing her majority by a staggering amount; she has even been derided by her own colleagues. Those Labour MPs who began the hashtag #PrayforDiane when she was off work because of illness spoke to a form of bullying that wouldn’t be acceptable in most workplaces.

These supposedly less obvious forms of racism and sexism are largely downplayed or seen as unrelated to discrimination. They might be understood through what influential scholar Stuart Hall called the “grammar of race”. Different from overtly racist comments, Hall says there’s a form of racism that’s “inferential”; naturalised representations of people - whether factual or fictional - have “racist premises and propositions inscribed in them as a set of unquestioned assumptions”. Alongside the racist insults hurled at black women politicians like Abbott, there’s a set of racialised tropes that rely on sexualisation or derision to undermine these women.

The streams of abuse on social media aren’t the only barrier people of colour – and women in particular – face when they think about getting into politics. “I don’t think there’s a shortage of people in the black community who put themselves forward to stand for office, you only have to look at when positions come up the list of people that go for the position,” Claudia Webbe, a councillor and member of Labour's ruling body the National Executive Committee told me. As one of the few black women to hold such a position in the history of the Labour party, she knows from her extensive career how the system works. “I think there is both a problem of unfair selection and a problem of BME [black and minority ethnic] people sustaining the course." Conscious and unconscious racial and gender bias means politics are, like other areas of work in the UK, more difficult to get into if you’re a woman of colour.

“The way white women respond to the way black women are treated is integral,” Osamor says, “They are part of the solution”. White women also face venomous and low-lying forms of sexism that are often overlooked, but at times the solidarity given to them is conditional for women of colour. In a leaked letter to The Guardian, Abbott’s staff criticised the police for not acting on death threats, while similar messages sent to Anna Soubry MP resulted in arrest. When the mainstream left talks about women, it usually means white women. This implicitly turns the experiences of women of colour into an afterthought.

The systematic discrimination against women of colour, and its erasure or addendum-like quality, stems from the colonial racial order. In the days of the British empire, white women were ranked as superior to colonised Asian and African women who were at different times seen as overly sexualised or unfeminine. Black women were at the bottom of this hierarchy. Women of colour were essentially discounted as real women. Recognising this does not equate to pitting white women and women of colour against each other. It is simply a case of recognising the fact that there is a distinct issue of racial abuse.

The online abuse women of colour, and black women specifically, is an issue that needs to be highlighted and dealt with. But there are other more insidious ways that racism and sexism manifest themselves in everyday political life, which should not be overlooked. “Thirty years ago I entered parliament to try and be the change I wanted to see,” Abbott wrote. “Despite the personal attacks and the online abuse, that struggle continues.” That struggle must be a collective one.

Maya Goodfellow researches race and racism in Britain. She is a staff writer at LabourList.