Bob Crow addresses a TUC rally in Hyde Park on October 20, 2012. Photograph: Getty Images.
Show Hide image

What Bob Crow knew: better pay can’t be won without a fight

While many pay lip service to the need for higher wages, the RMT general secretary was prepared to take the action required to secure them.

Bob Crow would have appreciated the irony of his many tormentors (he was more hurt than most realise by the press intrusion into his private life) mourning his untimely death today. Most are remembering him as a tireless fighter for his members - and that is what he was. During Crow's time as general secretary from 2002 onwards, the basic pay of a tube driver rose to £46,000 plus perks (including free travel for them and their partner) and will reach £52,000 in 2015. As Ken Livingstone quipped on Sky News this morning: "The only working class people who still have well-paid jobs in London are [RMT] members." While cursing Crow's name as they squeezed onto rail replacement buses during one of his union's strikes, many workers reflected that they could do with such a leader fighting their corner. After the news of his death, the Daily Mail's Tim Shipman tweeted: "If the NUJ had represented me like Bob Crow did his members, I might still be a member of the union." There was no greater tribute to Crow's efforts than the rise in RMT membership from 57,000 to 77,000 (making it the fastest growing union) at a time when others were in permanent decline. 

It is common now for politicians and columnists of all stripes to bemoan the widening gap between the rich and the poor and the fate of the "squeezed middle". But far fewer support the measures required to improve workers' lot, including stronger trade unions. The dramatic decline in union membership in recent decades cannot be separated from the living standards crisis.  In 1981, 50 per cent of UK employees belonged to a union; today just 26 per cent do (although, encouragingly, membership rose by 59,000 in 2012 to 6.5 million). ­The fall in membership has eroded workers' collective bargaining power and wages have stagnated as a result. Since 2003, long before the recession, 11 million low-to-middle earners have seen no rise in their incomes.

It is no coincidence that the most equal countries in the world are those where union membership is highest. In Finland 69.2 per cent of workers belong to a union, in Sweden 68.4 per cent do, in Denmark 66.6 per cent do, and in Norway 54.4 per cent do. If they are to live up their rhetoric on equality, our political leaders should be doing all they can to promote their British counterparts. Strong unions are an essential guarantor not just of social justice but also of economic efficiency. As a recent IMF report noted, the inevitable result of stagnant real wages is that "loans keep growing, and therefore so does . . . the probability of a major crisis that . . . also has severe implications for the real economy."

There was a time when David Cameron sought cooperation, not confrontation with the unions. He became the first Conservative leader in more than decade to meet the TUC general secretary and appointed a union emissary, the former Labour MEP Richard Balfe, who spoke glowingly of unions as "great, voluntary organisations". But he soon reverted to Thatcherite type, refusing to rule out making Britain's anti-strike laws - already the most draconian in the western world - even more restrictive. The next Conservative manifesto is likely to include Boris Johnson's proposal of a 50 per cent turnout threshold (N.B. just 38 per cent voted in the last London mayoral election) for strikes if unions take further action against cuts to jobs, pensions and services. Crow rightly opposed this measure and every other policy that would limit the ability of unions to fight for their members. 

Crow should not be hagiographied. He may have been one of the greatest modern union leaders and a lifelong anti-fascist activist, but he was also a supporter of the death penalty, of EU withdrawal (as Nigel Farage opportunistically noted this morning) and an apologist for Stalinism. He led the disaffiliation of the RMT from Labour, the party it helped to found, in 2004 and never returned despite Ed Miliband's repudiation of New Labour. But in recognising the necessity of militancy to raise living standards, he served as an example to all. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

Getty
Show Hide image

What David Hockney has to tell us about football

Why the sudden glut of blond footballers? A conversation I had with the artist back in 1966 gave me a clue. . .

In 1966, I went to interview David Hockney at a rather run-down flat in Bayswater, central London. He was 28 and had just won a gold medal at the Royal College of Art.

In his lavatory, I noticed a cut-out photograph from a newspaper of Denis Law scoring a goal. I asked if he was a football fan. He said no, he just liked Denis Law’s thighs.

The sub-editors cut that remark out of the story, to save any gossip or legal problems. In 1966 homosexual activity could still be an offence.

Hockney and a friend had recently been in the United States and had been watching an advert on TV that said “Blondes have more fun”. At two o’clock in the morning, slightly drunk, they both went out, bought some hair dye and became blond. Hockney decided to remain blond from then on, though he has naturally dark hair.

Is it true that blonds have more fun? Lionel Messi presumably thinks so, otherwise why has he greeted this brand-new season with that weird blond hair? We look at his face, his figure, his posture and we know it’s him – then we blink, thinking what the heck, does he realise some joker has been pouring stuff on his head?

He has always been such a staid, old-fashioned-looking lad, never messing around with his hair till now. Neymar, beside him, has gone even blonder, but somehow we expect it of him. He had foony hair even before he left Brazil.

Over here, blonds are popping up all over the shop. Most teams now have a born-again blondie. It must take a fortune for Marouane Fellaini of Man United to brighten up his hair, as he has so much. But it’s already fading. Cheapskate.

Mesut Özil of Arsenal held back, not going the full head, just bits of it, which I suspect is a clue to his wavering, hesitant personality. His colleague Aaron Ramsey has almost the full blond monty. Paul Pogba of Man United has a sort of blond streak, more like a marker pen than a makeover. His colleague Phil Jones has appeared blond, but he seems to have disappeared from the team sheet. Samir Nasri of Man City went startlingly blond, but is on loan to Seville, so we’re not able to enjoy his locks. And Didier Ndong of Sunderland is a striking blond, thanks to gallons of bleach.

Remember the Romanians in the 1998 World Cup? They suddenly appeared blond, every one of them. God, that was brilliant. One of my all-time best World Cup moments, and I was at Wembley in 1966.

So, why do they do it? Well, Hockney was right, in a sense. Not to have more fun – meaning more sex – because top footballers are more than well supplied, but because their normal working lives are on the whole devoid of fun.

They can’t stuff their faces with fast food, drink themselves stupid, stay up all night, take a few silly pills – which is what many of our healthy 25-year-old lads consider a reasonably fun evening. Nor can they spend all their millions on fun hols, such as skiing in the winter, a safari in the spring, or hang-gliding at the weekend. Prem players have to be so boringly sensible these days, or their foreign managers will be screaming at them in their funny foreign accents.

While not on the pitch, or training, which takes up only a few hours a day, the boredom is appalling, endlessly on planes or coaches or in some hotel that could be anywhere.

The only bright spot in the long days is to look in the mirror and think: “Hmm, I wonder what highlights would look like? I’ve done the beard and the tattoos. Now let’s go for blond. Wow, gorgeous.”

They influence each other, being simple souls, so when one dyes his hair, depending on where he is in the macho pecking order, others follow. They put in the day by looking at themselves. Harmless fun. Bless ’em.

But I expect all the faux blonds to have gone by Christmas. Along with Mourinho. I said that to myself the moment he arrived in Manchester, smirking away. Pep will see him off. OK then, let’s say Easter at the latest . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 22 September 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times