BMA staff to strike

How staff at the the British Medical association, the 'trade union' for British doctors, are plannin

The stereotype of the junior doctor caring for you after her tenth cup of coffee and working into the 14th hour of a shift is happily no more, and this is in no small part thanks to the efforts over the last 20 years of the British Medical Association, the trade union for doctors. Indeed, the organisation still plays a huge role in our lives; by continually ensuring that the standard of training for UK doctors remains the highest in Europe; and the more controversially, securing contracts for GPs and consultants that have been blamed by government for using a large chunk of the extra funding given to the NHS.

But the organisation’s credibility took something of a knock this week when its own staff, themselves members of the GMB union, balloted to strike in protest at the imposition of performance related pay (PRP). Which, to add to the irony, is a concept that the BMA has successfully argued against when mooted by successive governments for the medical profession itself.

Public opinion and the moral high ground are huge weapons in any trade union’s arsenal, and even more so for a profession that has such a crucial role in maintaining the public’s health and safety. With public opinion still cold from the undoubtedly generous contract awards in the past few years, will this affect the most efficient professional body in the UK?

One staff member, who does not wish to be named, is in no doubt: “The organisation is representing doctors who do not like PRP, and we would not accept this as an organisation for our members, but they have imposed it on the staff and the staff feel so strongly about it that they are taking strike action.

“I think it is embarrassing and might make life difficult for the BMA. I suspect it will be thrown into discussion for any negotiation with government. It will be embarrassing at best and difficult at worst.”

One of the biggest gripes that the staff have had is the management refuses to discuss their concerns. Dave Kent, the GMB official for London, says: “They have not been receptive to our concerns at all. Frankly, we wouldn’t have had to have gone to the bother of a ballot for industrial action otherwise. We’ve tried to negotiate on this issue, but the BMA management does not wish to negotiate.”

Of course, frosty relations between management and staff is a common place scenario throughout the country, but it does take on particular relevance when the principal function for that organisation is securing the best working conditions for its employees through engaging with the employers. Mr Kent says: “We have raised the fact that the BMA have rejected the concept of PRP with the management. It seems hypocrisy in the extreme for the BMA to take the stance that it does with government regarding PRP and then inflict PRP on its own employees. Quite hypocritical.”

BMA officials, the doctors themselves, are refusing to publicly discuss the matter. However, Brian Butler, director of communications, believes that the organisation’s role as a trade union does not give the dispute any particular relevance. He says: “I don’t see why it should make negotiations with the government tougher. It is an internal matter between management and staff at the BMA. I don’t see that the two matters are related at all. It does not make any difference with doctors negotiating with government.”

This is not how the staff see it, however: “How can it not backlash against the BMA? This isn’t the sort of thing they would accept for their members, yet they are imposing it on their staff.” Although the issue of staff anger over PRP itself may not be incredible, there is a sense that the BMA management is over confident in believing that it can take the dual roles of unflinching employer and guarantors of employees’ rights. Like that junior doctor of yesteryear, their internal turmoil – be it staff turning against them, or an exhausted set of limbs – may necessarily affect their ability to function.

Jaimie Kaffash began his writing career working for a magazine for British ex-pats in Sydney. He now freelances from the less exotic climes of Kentish Town, north London, taking particular interest in Australian politics and the growing tribulations of Arsenal Football Club.
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As bad as stealing bacon – why did the Victorians treat acid attacks so leniently?

In an era of executions and transportation, 19th century courts were surprisingly laissez-faire about acid attacks. 

"We are rather anxious to see the punishment of death rescinded in all cases except that of Murder," stated the Glasgow publication, The Loyal Reformers’ Gazette, in 1831. But it did not share this opinion when it came to Hugh Kennedy.

Previously of “irreproachable character", Kennedy fell out with a fellow servant and decided to take his revenge by pouring acid on the man while he was asleep. “He awoke in agony, one of his eyes being literally burned out,” The Gazette reported.

Lamenting the rise in acid attacks, the otherwise progressive journal recommended “the severest punishment” for Kennedy:

“We would have their arms cut off by the shoulders, and, in that state, send them to roam as outcasts from society without the power of throwing vitriol again."

More than 180 years later, there are echoes of this sentiment in the home secretary’s response to a spate of acid attacks in London. “I quite understand when victims say they feel the perpetrators themselves should have a life sentence,” Amber Rudd told Sky News. She warned attackers would feel “the full force of the law”.

Acid attacks leave the victims permanently disfigured, and often blinded. Surprisingly, though, the kind of hardline punishment advocated by The Gazette was actually highly unusual, according to Dr Katherine Watson, a lecturer in the history of medicine at Oxford Brookes University. Hugh Kennedy was in fact the only person hung for an acid attack.

“If you look at the cases that made it to court, you see there is a huge amount of sympathy for the perpetrators,” she says.

"You want your victim to suffer but you don’t want them to die”

Acid attacks emerged with the industrial revolution in Britain. From the late 1700s, acid was needed to bleach cotton and prevent metals from rusting, and as a result became widely available.

At first, acid was a weapon of insurrection. “Vitriol throwing (that is, the throwing of corrosive substances like sulphuric acid) was a big problem in 1820s Glasgow trade disputes,” says Shane Ewen, an urban historian at Leeds Beckett University. Other cases involved revenge attacks on landlords and employers.

Faced with this anarchic threat, the authorities struck back. Scotland introduced a strict law against acid attacks in the 1820s, while the 1861 Offences Against the Person Act s.29 placed provided for a maximum sentence of life in England and Wales.

In reality, though, acid attackers could expect to receive far more lenient sentences. Why?

“They had sad stories,” says Watson, a leading historian of acid attacks. “Although they had done something terrible, the journalists and juries could empathise with them.”

Acid attacks were seen as expressions of revenge, even glorified as crimes of passion. As Watson puts it: “The point is you want your victim to suffer but you don’t want them to die.”

Although today, around the world, acid attacks are associated with violence against women, both genders used acid as a weapon in 19th century and early 20th century Britain. Acid crept into popular culture. Arthur Conan Doyle’s 1924 Sherlock Holmes story, The Adventure of the Illustrious Client, featured a mistress throwing vitriol in her former lover’s face. In Brighton Rock, Graham Greene’s 1938 novel, the gangster Pinkie attacks his female nemesis Ida Arnold with his vial of acid, before falling to his death.

Lucy Williams, the author of Wayward Women: Female Offending in Victorian England, agrees that Victorians took a lenient attitude to acid attacks. “Historically speaking sentences for acid attacks were quite low,” she says. “Serious terms of imprisonment would only usually be given if the injury caused permanent blindness, death, or was life-threatening.

“If this was not the case, a defendant might spend just a few months in prison - sometimes even less.”

Courts would weigh up factors including the gender of the attacker and victim, and the strength of the substance.

But there was another factor, far removed from compassion “Many of the sentences that we would now consider extremely lenient were a product of a judicial system that valued property over people,” says Williams. It was quite common for violent offences to receive just a few weeks or months in prison.

One case Williams has researched is that of the 28 year old Sarah Newman, who threw sulphuric acid at Cornelius Mahoney, and was tried for the “intent to burn and disfigure him” at the Old Bailey in 1883. The attacker and victim had been living together, and had three children together, but Mahoney had abandoned Newman to marry another woman.

Although Mahoney lost the sight in his right eye, his attacker received just 12 months imprisonment with hard labour.

Two other cases, uncovered by Ancestry.co.uk, illustrate the Victorian attitude to people and property. Mary Morrison, a servant in her 40s, threw acid in the face of her estranged husband after he didn’t give her a weekly allowance. The attack disfigured and blinded him.

In 1883, Morrison was jailed for five years, but released after two and a half. The same year, Dorcas Snell, also in her 40s, received a very similar sentence – for stealing a piece of bacon.

"People just had more options"

If Victorian attitudes become clearer with research, why acid attacks receded in the 20th century remains something of a mystery.

“My theory is people just had more options,” says Watson. With manufacturing on the wane, it became a little harder to get hold of corrosive fluid. But more importantly, the underlying motivation for acid attacks was disappearing. “Women can just walk away from relationships, they can get divorced, get a job. And maybe men don’t feel the same shame if women leave.”

Acid attacks did not disappear completely, though. Yardie gangs – mainly comprised of Jamaican immigrants – used acid as a weapon in the 1960s. Other gangs may have used it too, against victims who would rather suffer in silence than reveal themselves to the police.

Meanwhile, in 1967, the first acid attacks in Bangladesh and India were recorded. This would be the start of a disturbing, misogynistic trend of attacks across Asia. “Acid attacks, like other forms of violence against women, are not random or natural phenomena,” Professor Yakin Ertürk, the UN’s special rapporteur on violence against women, wrote in 2011. “Rather, they are social phenomena deeply embedded in a gender order that has historically privileged patriarchal control over women and justified the use of violence to ‘keep women in their places’.”

The re-emergence of acid attacks in Britain has been interpreted by some as another example of multiculturalism gone wrong. “The acid attacks of London’s Muslim no-go zones”, declared the right-wing, US-based Front Page magazine.

In fact, descriptions of the recent attackers include white men, and black and minority ethnic groups are disproportionately among the victims. A protest by delivery drivers against acid attacks was led by Asian men. 

Jaf Shah, from the Acid Survivors Trust International, suspects the current spate of attacks in fact originates from gang-related warfare that has in turn inspired copycat attacks. “In the UK because of the number of men attacked, it goes against the global pattern,” he says. “It’s complicated by multiple motivations behind these attacks.” Unlike other weapons in the UK, acid is easy to obtain and carry, while acid attacks are prosecuted under the non-specific category of grievous bodily harm. 

Among the recent victims is a British Muslim businessman from Luton, who says he was attacked by a bald white man, two teenage boys in east London, a delivery man, also in east London, who had his moped stolen at the same time, and a man in Leicester whose girlfriend – in a move Hugh Kennedy would recognise – poured acid on him while he slept.

Shah believes the current anxiety about acid attacks stems from the fact the general public is being attacked, rather than simply other members of gangs. Perhaps, also, it relates to the fact that, thanks to advances in our understanding of trauma since the Victorian period, 21st century lawmakers are less interested in the theft of a moped than the lifetime of scars left on the driver who was attacked.

With Rudd promising a crackdown, the penalties for acid throwing are only likely to get harsher. “Many survivors feel the sentencing is too lenient,” Shah says. Still, the rise and fall and rise again of acid throwing in the UK suggests the best way to eradicate the crime may lie outside the courts.

Julia Rampen is the digital news editor of the New Statesman (previously editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog). She has also been deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.