The Edwardes syndrome
Peter Paterson
The pit yard was crowded for the changeover of the morning and afternoon shifts. The black faces mingled, briefly, with the white faces before all went their respective ways to the baths or to the narrow-gauge rail trucks that take the underground men to work. Next day the change-over would be slower, giving time for everyone to vote in the pithead ballot, with the National Union of Mineworkers' Executive appealing to the men to reject the Coal Board's pay offer, and to sanction industrial action `if necessary'.
This is the North Derbyshire coalfield, a settled mining community for more than 200 years. They rather enjoy their reputation as a barometer of national opinion in the coal industry, if only because their 8,500 votes are not likely of themselves to tip the balance. So they talk quite freely and openly of their voting intentions, though noticeably at greater length where their own views coincide with those of the union.
Only one man protests that this is a secret ballot, and is therefore entitled to keep his voting intentions secret. The younger miners appear to be most adamantly against the Board's offer, which would give faceworkers an immediate increase of £17 a week. 'It's not enough,' they say, 'We're ready for a long strike if that's what they want.' There is much talk of increases in rates, bus fares, VAT, school meals and television licences. Certainly the offer is better than most other workers are getting this time round, but with prices going up at their present rate, how long will it last?
Visitors from London seem much more concerned about public opinion than the miners themselves. They shrug their shoulders at the flightiness of those who, while depending on coal to produce the electricity they use, so easily forget the real price of that coal. If the public does not back the miners this time, so what?
It can be very cold below ground at this pit, and on some coal faces men spend more than five hours a day up to their shins in a filthy slurry of water and coal dust. In some places there is a walk of more than a mile after leaving the trucks to reach the coalface. Much of the day is spent working on a three-in-one incline, and the dust that causes the crippling disease of pneumoconiosis is constantly present. The days of pick and shovel mining may be over, but this remains a dark, dangerous and uncomfortable occupation.
But with f17 a certainty, is it worth going on strike for an extra £5? Some of the men protest that a strike would have as its target the 65 per cent increase originally devised by the miners' union conference. But ihis step was blocked at the last negotiating session with the NCB, when the executive declared that it would be willing to recommend acceptance of 25 per cent, but not the 20 per cent on offer. So that is what it comes down to.
In the manager's office Mrs Thatcher is referred to with the same Haggardian pronoun as in the pit yard: 'She'. Among the miners, 'she' would quickly take back any increase in higher living costs. 'She' is the enemy who must be taken on. In the office 'she' would not allow the Board to make any further concession, and 'she' wouldn't care if the miners stayed out for six months. 'If there's a strike, pits will close and never reopen. If they closed every pit in the country that's losing fl. 0 million a year, there'd be enough in the kitty to double the pay of those that are left.'
In this pit, the leftish local officials of the NUM have been trying hard — perhaps a little too hard — to ensure backing for the national executive's line. There have on occasion been harsh words for the union men touring the workings — their representative function means that they are full time on union business —and the local delegate to the area executive is regarded as too overtly ambitious. He is said to be grooming himself to become a Labour MP in ten years' time, and the joke is that being charged with being drunk in charge of a motor scooter one recent lunch-time may prove a grave setback to a promising career.
Derbyshire miners, like many other British workers, are loathe to tell you how much they actually earn, not because the question is intrusive, but because their wives might discover how much is in the pay packet. The union secretary of a neighbouring pit Is regarded as a great fool for having, in his jubilation after the last wage settlement, blurted out to the local paper that some of his members could now earn up to £150 a week.
But to the outsider, the remarkable thing about tapping this particular barometer Is not the vociferousness of the militants, which is to be expected. It is the high number of men who indicate that they 011 vote 'No' to industrial action, even if few ar.e prepared to stand and argue the point In front of the union officials.
If that proves to be a general pattern and early indications suggest that the unOlf has not secured the necessary 55 per cent °e the vote required for industrial action — the miners' leaders will have suffered a sev.er;‘, and unnecessary rebuff. They will thus l°',4" the car workers' leaders at Leyland all!ci Talbot who have recently overestimat‘te their members' willingness to strike, and Te steel union, whose members prefer to ta:e the redundancy money rather than stBs' occupations and sit-ins. Sir Derek Ezra staged his own aggresssag e PR campaign this time to get his me Tbe si0 across to the miners over the heads °' unanimous union executive. Lion. Edwardes syndrome is becoming fas“ able.
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