Hundreds of jobs are axed by Ford, and we're letting them get away with it

Our current industrial strategy is allowing the company to undermine public trust.

Over 1,400 families are still in shock. Ford’s decision to close plants in Southampton and Dagenham left workers blindsided after almost a century of UK production. At a time of recession, there is a deep concern for the economic wellbeing and material welfare of these workers, as well as many more subcontractors and suppliers. These quality jobs will no longer be available for young Brits. Another nail in the coffin for British manufacturing. The makers are marching straight out of the country.

We are told that it’s inevitable. Of course Ford is now focusing its operations in Turkey. In a brave new world of global competition, this is how we operate. Automobile companies are as cold and sharp as the steel they manufacture; ready to cut and shift production at a moment’s notice. Sympathy is unaffordable. Responsibility and relationship to people and place is naïve. If we want to win the economic war, workers may be collateral damage. The bottom line dictates the show.

But this narrative has masked the deeper failings of Ford and of government. In a meeting earlier this week in Westminster, a little-attended parliamentary debate revealed what is really happening. MPs of all sides dismissed Ford’s behaviour as “shoddy” and “grubby”. The failings of the government’s industrial strategy began to be exposed, and the consequences for the British taxpayer revealed. Three key questions strike to the heart of the problem.

First, why were ministers kept in the dark about Ford’s decision? The business secretary Vince Cable is on record saying he knew nothing about the company's decision to close the plant until just a few days before it was announced. Despite the fact that ministers had 12 meetings with Ford since taking office, Michael Fallon MP said there was “no opportunity to discuss (closures) as we would have liked.”

MPs at a local level went further, claiming they were actively misled by Ford. Alan Whitehead, MP for Southampton Test, said he had received “cast iron” guarantees that local production would continue. Jon Cruddas, MP for Dagenham, said workers were “blindsided” by the decision. Chris Huhne, MP for Eastleigh, called for the minutes of all meetings with Ford to be published from 2008, questioning whether the company gave false impressions of growth to benefit from cheap government loans. John Denham, MP for Southampton Itchen, said that the last communication he had with John Fleming - now head of global manufacturing at Ford - was an email saying that they were planning to increase operations in Southampton.

“Reputations are hard won and easily lost,” says Denham, “I’m sorry to say it will be a long time before MPs will be able to sit down with Ford representatives at the other side of the table and believe they will keep their word.”

Ford insisted they didn’t make their final decision until 19 October – less than a week before ministers were informed - but that doesn’t explain previous assurances.

Second question. Why are British taxpayers supporting Ford’s new line of vehicles outside of the UK? This summer, the European Investment Bank (EIB) gave Ford a cheap £80m loan to develop a new line of transit vans, previously assembled in the UK, in Kocaeli. We part fund the EIB, and our chancellor George Osborne sits on its board. Conservatives themselves were raising concerns about this, including the MP for Romsey and Southampton North, Caroline Nokes:

“Ford globally made $2.2bn profit last year. Why does it need cheap loans to subsidise it to export jobs from the UK to outside the EU?”

Of course Turkey has lower production costs, and its labour costs are one third of those here. But it’s one thing to say it’s cheaper to do business abroad, and quite another to expect British taxpayers to pay for it.

The problems don’t end there. Just a few days before Ford’s announcement, the British people gave some £10m to the company to help it develop a new series of diesel engines here in the UK. This money was awarded by the Regional Growth Fund (RGF), which is chaired by none other than Michael Heseltine – the man recently charged for producing a report for the government on growth. So why didn’t we make this grant contingent on Ford maintaining the rest of its operations here in the UK?

“There is no sense of engagement across the board” says Denham, who called on both the EIB and the RGF to be subject to review. Another MP added, “Ministers have shown themselves to be incapable… you can’t rebalance growth by tossing a few grants here and there.”

And a final bonus question. Given the pain, why aren’t workers going out on strike? Employees are desperately unhappy, but union members say many don’t speak out because they have been given generous pay offs, which include an extra £20,000 “bonus” for not going on strike. When it comes to a definite chance of a pay off verses a small chance of saving your job, most workers are understandably putting their families first. This is obviously less helpful for all those subcontractors on site, who aren’t receiving any redundancy package from Ford.

Ford are keen to emphasise that they are pursuing voluntary redundancies and relocating workers wherever possible. Workers in Dangenham can take some comfort that a new diesel engine is being developed there, but in general Ford say that they are suffering from over capacity.

Nobody disputes that Britain has to adapt to a changing world. But the way Ford is operating now is not good for business. The company has undermined public trust, and our current industrial strategy has let them get away with it. Ford could improve its brand by celebrating production here in Britain. European consumers would be more likely to buy from a company known for providing good jobs, worker representation and apprenticeships here in Europe. Initiatives like this wouldn’t just be good for business, it might also give those struggling workers and their families another chance.

Ford will be closing plants in Southampton and Dagenham next year. Photograph: Getty Images

Rowenna Davis is Labour PPC for Southampton Itchen and a councillor for Peckham

Qusai Al Shidi/Flickr
Show Hide image

I can’t follow Marie Kondo's advice – even an empty Wotsits packet “sparks joy” in me

I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

I have been brooding lately on the Japanese tidying freak Marie Kondo. (I forgot her name so I typed “Japanese tidying freak” into Google, and it was a great help.) The “Japanese” bit is excusable in this context, and explains a bit, as I gather Japan is more on the case with the whole “being tidy” thing than Britain, but still.

Apart from telling us that we need to take an enormous amount of care, to the point where we perform origami when we fold our underpants, which is pretty much where she lost me, she advises us to throw away anything that does not, when you hold it, “spark joy”. Perhaps I have too much joy in my life. I thought I’d give her loopy, OCD theories a go, but when I held up an empty Wotsits bag I was suffused with so many happy memories of the time we’d spent together that I couldn’t bear to throw it away.

After a while I gave up on this because I was getting a bit too happy with all the memories, so then I thought to myself, about her: “This is someone who isn’t getting laid enough,” and then I decided that was a crude and ungallant thought, and besides, who am I to wag the finger? At least if she invites someone to her bedroom no one is going to run screaming from it, as they would if I invited anyone to my boudoir. (Etym: from the French “bouder”, to sulk. How very apt in my case.) Marie Kondo – should bizarre circumstance ever conspire to bring her to the threshold – would run screaming from the Hovel before she’d even alighted the stairs from the front door.

I contemplate my bedroom. As I write, the cleaning lady is in it. To say that I have to spend half an hour cleaning out empty Wotsits packets, and indeed wotnot, before I let her in there should give you some idea of how shameful it has got. And even then I have to pay her to do so.

A girlfriend who used to be referred to often in these pages, though I think the term should be a rather less flippant one than “girlfriend”, managed to get round my natural messiness problem by inventing a game called “keep or chuck”.

She even made up a theme song for it, to the tune from the old Spiderman TV show. She would show me some object, which was not really rubbish, but usually a book (it may not surprise you to learn that it is the piles of books that cause most of the clutter here), and say, “Keep or chuck?” in the manner of a high-speed game show host. At one point I vacillated and so she then pointed at herself and said, “Keep or chuck?” I got the message.

These days the chances of a woman getting into the bedroom are remote. For one thing, you can’t just walk down the street and whistle for one much as one would hail a cab, although my daughter is often baffled by my ability to attract females, and suspects I have some kind of “mind ray”. Well, if I ever did it’s on the blink now, and not only that – right now, I’m not even particularly bothered that it’s on the blink. Because, for another thing, I would frankly not care to inflict myself upon anyone else at the moment.

It was all a bit of a giggle eight years ago, when I was wheeled out of the family home and left to my own devices. Of course, when I say “a bit of a giggle”, I mean “terrifying and miserable”, but I had rather fewer miles on the clock than I do now, and a man can, I think, get away with a little bit more scampish behaviour, and entertain a few more illusions about the future and his own plausibility as a character, when he is squarely in his mid-forties than when he is approaching, at speed, his middle fifties.

Death has rather a lot to do with it, I suppose. I had not actually seen, or touched, a dead body until I saw, and touched, my own father’s a few weeks ago. That’s what turns an abstract into a concrete reality. You finally put that to one side and gird up your loins – and then bloody David Bowie snuffs it, and you find yourself watching the videos for “Blackstar” and “Lazarus” over and over again, and reach the inescapable conclusion that death is not only incredibly unpleasant, it is also remorseless and very much nearer than you think.

And would you, dear reader, want to be involved with anyone who kept thinking along those lines? I mean, even if he learned how to fold his undercrackers into an upright cylinder, like a napkin at a fancy restaurant, before putting them in his drawer? When he doesn’t even have a drawer?

Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war