Sketch: Boris gives Dave a light day

The PM looked increasingly relieved as the minutes ticked by, with pledges of support intertwined with Borisisms.

The applause began even before the hair appeared and only intensified as it was followed on stage seconds later by the body that could only be Boris. First out of his seat in welcome was the Prime Minister, whose face clearly displayed how he could not imagine a happier way in which to celebrate his 46th birthday. The ordinaries had been queuing since breakfast to get seats for what promised to be the only bit of fun—apart from welfare-bashing—at this year's Tory party conference, and to get more clues about the leader they have yet to elect in Dave’s place.

Boris confuses Conservatives since he appears to say what they believe, while remaining popular in places where they would dare not go out on their own. So they gathered to see if some of the magic dust would rub off on the rest of them. He also confuses a resurgent Labour Party, unnerved by the change in the Tories' popularity every time the name of Boris is swapped for Dave’s in opinion polls. Finally, he confuses the Tory press for whom he is nowhere nearly nasty enough but still better than the left-wing alternative.

And so he shambled on stage, clutching his speech after an effusive welcome by a 12-year-old called Gavin Barwell, who is astonishingly MP for Croydon Central. Boris had arrived in Brighton last night and, sadly for many, used a speech at an equally packed fringe event to promise total loyalty to his Eton compatriot with a straight face throughout. This had led the many at the conference, for whom Dave has turned out to be a disaster, to hope Boris would turn today into a barely coded rallying cry for an internal election hopefully not far off.

The Prime Minister had been forced out of his birthday bed before dawn to try to head Boris off at the pass by trolling around TV and radio studios reminding the nation he was in charge. Gritted teeth had clearly been flossed as he expressed delight at the appearance of “someone with rock star status” in the Tory Party. He appeared perfectly composed as he declared himself someone with the opposite of tall poppy syndrome. And this composure appeared to have been stapled to his face as he joined the standing ovation that Boris managed to get even before he spoke.

But he had little to worry about in a speech which could well be used as a textual example in future of the triumph of style over substance. As Baldrick may well have said, Boris must have a cunning plan to take over from Dave or none at all, since there were no clues to be found in this half hour. Maybe he thought his success spoke for itself but to do so silently is a dangerous tactic for the recidivists seeking meat to munch and bones to crunch.

He popped out from under his hair, now and again, to remind delegates how well he was doing in London, frightened them slightly by referring to the deserving poor and the living wage and peered out occasionally from under the thatch to crack a joke. He even praised Ken Livingstone for his part in the Olympics—a step too far for most of the now confused delegates —before wandering off into other suspicious areas suggesting cooperation, not confrontation. Was he reminding delegates from the job-starved Midlands and the North, not to mention Scotland Wales and Northern Ireland, that the London way ahead could be neatly transferred. If he was, he was not daft enough to say it.

And so, Dave looked increasingly relieved as the minutes ticked by, with pledges of support intertwined with Borisisms. Then, as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone and the crowd stood up for him again and then  left for lunch obviously unsatisfied. Dave had been asked earlier what Boris could get for his birthday. ”He’s giving me a relatively light day, which is good of him,” he said. Little did he know how true that was.

David Cameron watches Boris Johnson deliver his speech to the Conservative Party conference in Birmingham. Photograph: Getty Images.

Peter McHugh is the former Director of Programmes at GMTV and Chief Executive Officer of Quiddity Productions

Getty
Show Hide image

Junior doctors’ strikes: the greatest union failure in a generation

The first wave of junior doctor contract impositions began this week. Here’s how the BMA union failed junior doctors.

In Robert Tressell’s novel, The Ragged-Trousered Philanthropists, the author ridicules the notion of work as a virtuous end per se:

“And when you are all dragging out a miserable existence, gasping for breath or dying for want of air, if one of your number suggests smashing a hole in the side of one of the gasometers, you will all fall upon him in the name of law and order.”

Tressell’s characters are subdued and eroded by the daily disgraces of working life; casualised labour, poor working conditions, debt and poverty.

Although the Junior Doctors’ dispute is a far cry from the Edwardian working-poor, the eruption of fervour from Junior Doctors during the dispute channelled similar overtones of dire working standards, systemic abuse, and a spiralling accrual of discontent at the notion of “noble” work as a reward in itself. 

While the days of union activity precipitating governmental collapse are long over, the BMA (British Medical Association) mandate for industrial action occurred in a favourable context that the trade union movement has not witnessed in decades. 

Not only did members vote overwhelmingly for industrial action with the confidence of a wider public, but as a representative of an ostensibly middle-class profession with an irreplaceable skillset, the BMA had the necessary cultural capital to make its case regularly in media print and TV – a privilege routinely denied to almost all other striking workers.

Even the Labour party, which displays parliamentary reluctance in supporting outright strike action, had key members of the leadership join protests in a spectacle inconceivable just a few years earlier under the leadership of “Red Ed”.

Despite these advantageous circumstances, the first wave of contract impositions began this week. The great failures of the BMA are entirely self-inflicted: its deference to conservative narratives, an overestimation of its own method, and woeful ignorance of the difference between a trade dispute and moralising conundrums.

These right-wing discourses have assumed various metamorphoses, but at their core rest charges of immorality and betrayal – to themselves, to the profession, and ultimately to the country. These narratives have been successfully deployed since as far back as the First World War to delegitimise strikes as immoral and “un-British” – something that has remarkably haunted mainstream left-wing and union politics for over 100 years.

Unfortunately, the BMA has inherited this doubt and suspicion. Tellingly, a direct missive from the state machinery that the BMA was “trying to topple the government” helped reinforce the same historic fears of betrayal and unpatriotic behaviour that somehow crossed a sentient threshold.

Often this led to abstract and cynical theorising such as whether doctors would return to work in the face of fantastical terrorist attacks, distracting the BMA from the trade dispute at hand.

In time, with much complicity from the BMA, direct action is slowly substituted for direct inaction with no real purpose and focus ever-shifting from the contract. The health service is superficially lamented as under-resourced and underfunded, yes, but certainly no serious plan or comment on how political factors and ideologies have contributed to its present condition.

There is little to be said by the BMA for how responsibility for welfare provision lay with government rather than individual doctors; virtually nothing on the role of austerity policies; and total silence on how neoliberal policies act as a system of corporate welfare, eliciting government action when in the direct interests of corporatism.

In place of safeguards demanded by the grassroots, there are instead vague quick-fixes. Indeed, there can be no protections for whistleblowers without recourse to definable and tested legal safeguards. There are limited incentives for compliance by employers because of atomised union representation and there can be no exposure of a failing system when workers are treated as passive objects requiring ever-greater regulation.

In many ways, the BMA exists as the archetypal “union for a union’s sake”, whose material and functional interest is largely self-intuitive. The preservation of the union as an entity is an end in itself.

Addressing conflict in a manner consistent with corporate and business frameworks, there remains at all times overarching emphasis on stability (“the BMA is the only union for doctors”), controlled compromise (“this is the best deal we can get”) and appeasement to “greater” interests (“think of the patients”). These are reiterated even when diametrically opposed to its own members or irrelevant to the trade dispute.

With great chutzpah, the BMA often moves from one impasse to the next, framing defeats as somehow in the interests of the membership. Channels of communication between hierarchy and members remain opaque, allowing decisions such as revocation of the democratic mandate for industrial action to be made with frightening informality.

Pointedly, although the BMA often appears to be doing nothing, the hierarchy is in fact continually defining the scope of choice available to members – silence equals facilitation and de facto acceptance of imposition. You don’t get a sense of cumulative unionism ready to inspire its members towards a swift and decisive victory.

The BMA has woefully wasted the potential for direct action. It has encouraged a passive and pessimistic malaise among its remaining membership and presided over the most spectacular failure of union representation in a generation.

Ahmed Wakas Khan is a junior doctor, freelance journalist and editorials lead at The Platform. He tweets @SireAhmed.