Danger began to loom in the autumn of 1983. Peter Walker was now Secretary of State for Energy, a job to which I had appointed him after the general election in June. As he had shown at Agriculture in our first Parliament, he was a tough negotiator. He was also a skilled communicator, something which I knew would be important if we were to retain public support in the coal strike which the militants would some day force upon us. Peter regularly telephoned newspaper editors in person to put over our case. This was never my preferred way, but I recognized its effectiveness during the strike. Unfortunately, Peter Walker never really got on with Ian MacGregor, and this sometimes created tensions.
Ian MacGregor took over as Chairman of the NCB on 1 September. He had been an excellent Chairman of the British Steel Corporation, turning the Corporation around after the damaging three-month steel strike in 1980. If Britain’s coal industry was ever to become a successful business rather than a system of outdoor relief, he had the experience and determination to make this happen. Unlike the militant miners’ leaders, Ian MacGregor genuinely wanted to see a thriving coal industry making good use of investment, technology and human resources. Perhaps his greatest quality was courage. Within the NCB itself he often found himself surrounded by people who had made their careers in an atmosphere of appeasement and collaboration with the NUM and who greatly resented the changed atmosphere he brought with him. Yet it transpired that Ian MacGregor was strangely lacking in guile. He was quite used to dealing with financial difficulties and hard bargaining. But he had no experience of dealing with trade union leaders intent on using the process of negotiation to score political points. Time and again he and his colleagues were outmanoeuvred by Arthur Scargill and the NUM leadership. During the strike Peter Walker and I followed with constant anxiety every phase of the battle for public opinion. The NUM leadership used every device to distort the truth and misinform the public and their own members.
On Friday 21 October 1983 an NUM delegate conference voted for a ban on overtime in protest at the Board’s 5.2 per cent pay offer and at prospective pit closures. In itself, with coal stocks as high as they were, an overtime ban was unlikely to have much effect. It probably had an ulterior purpose: to increase tension among the miners and so make them more prepared for a strike when the NUM leadership thought that one could successfully be engineered. We always knew that it was pit closures that were more likely to ignite a strike than a dispute about pay. The case for closures on economic grounds remained overwhelming. Even Labour had acknowledged it: thirty-two pits had been closed under the Labour Government between 1974 and 1979. Mr Scargill, however, denied the economic case for closure. His line was that no pit should be closed unless it was physically exhausted. Indeed, he denied the existence of ‘uneconomic pits’: in his view a pit that made a loss — and there were many — simply required further investment. Called to give evidence before a Select Committee, he had been asked whether there was any level of loss that he would deem intolerable. He replied memorably: ‘As far as I am concerned, the loss is without limit.’
During the autumn and winter of 1983 — 4 Ian MacGregor formulated his plans. At that time manpower in the industry was 202,000. The Monopolies and Mergers Commission had produced a report into the coal industry in 1983 which showed that some 75 per cent of the pits were making a loss. Faced with this, Mr MacGregor began with the aim of bringing the industry to break-even point by 1988. In September 1983 he told Government that he intended to cut the workforce by some 64,000 over three years, reducing capacity by 25 million tons. There was, though, never any secret ‘hit list’ of pits due for closure: decisions as to which pits were to be closed would be made on a pit-by-pit basis under the existing colliery review procedure. He came back to us in December 1983 indicating that he had decided to accelerate the programme, aiming to cut the workforce by 44,000 over the next two years; to achieve this he urged us to extend the existing redundancy scheme to include miners under the age of fifty. The terms we agreed in January 1984 were extremely generous: £1,000 for each year of service, paid as a lump sum, the scheme to operate for two years only, so that a man who had been in the pits all his working life would get over £30,000. In the coming year, 1984 — 5, Mr MacGregor proposed 20,000 redundancies. We were confident that this figure could be achieved without anyone being forced to leave the industry against their will. Around twenty pits would close and annual capacity would be reduced by 4 million tons a year.
As discussions continued accusations began to fly about a ‘hit list’ of pits. The rhetoric of the NUM leadership took ever greater leave of reality — in particular, of the economic reality that the industry was receiving £1.3 billion of subsidies from the taxpayer in 1983 — 4. It sounded as if Mr Scargill was preparing to lead his troops into battle. At the end of February there was an early intimation of the violence which would characterize the strike when Ian MacGregor — then 70 years old — was knocked to the ground at a Northumberland colliery by demonstrating miners. I was shocked and wrote to convey my sympathy. Far worse was to come.
Obviously we realized that a strike was always possible, but we doubted whether it would happen before the end of 1984, when winter set in and the demand for coal was at its annual peak. To begin a strike in the spring would be the worst possible tactic for the NUM. But this was a point on which Mr Scargill misled his own members: in February he was making wild claims, saying that the CEGB had only eight weeks of coal stocks. In fact stocks were far higher — something that could have been deduced from figures in the public domain. However, the union had a tradition of balloting its members before strike action took place, and there was good reason to think that Mr Scargill would not get the necessary majority (55 per cent) to call a national strike at any point in the immediate future. Since he had become President the NUM membership had voted against strike action three times already. We could not have foreseen the desperate and self-destructive tactics he chose to adopt.
THE STRIKE BEGINS
On Thursday 1 March the NCB announced the closure of the Yorkshire colliery of Cortonwood. The announcement was not particularly well handled by the local NCB: the impression was given that the colliery review procedure was being by-passed, whereas in fact the NCB had had no such intention. But the executive of the radical Yorkshire area of the NUM — Mr Scargill’s home ground — announced a strike in protest at the decision, relying on a local ballot held two years previously to provide authority for their action.
Cortonwood may have triggered the strike, but it was not the cause. The truth is that once the NUM leadership had become determined to resist the closure of any pit on economic grounds the strike was inevitable, unless the NCB had been prepared to abdicate effective control of the industry. Even if Cortonwood had never happened, a meeting between the NCB and the mining unions on 6 March might have had the same result. Ian MacGregor outlined his plans for the coming year and confirmed the figure of twenty closures. The reaction from the NUM was swift. That same day the Scottish NUM called a strike from 12 March. Two days later, on Thursday 8 March, the national executive of the NUM met and gave official support to the Yorkshire and Scottish strikes.
Under rule 43 of the NUM constitution a national strike could only be called if the union held a national ballot and a majority of 55 per cent voted in favour. The militant majority on the executive doubted whether they could win such a national ballot, but they found a procedural way round the problem. Under rule 41 of the constitution, the national executive could give official sanction to strikes declared by the constituent areas that made up the union. If all the areas could be pushed into action individually, this would have the effect of a national strike without the need for a national ballot. If any proved difficult, pickets could be sent from striking areas to intimidate them into joining the dispute. This ruthless strategy very nearly worked. But in the end it proved to be a disaster for its authors.
The strike began on Monday 12 March. Over the following two weeks the brutal weight of the mil
itants’ shock troops descended on the coal fields and for a moment it seemed as if rationality and decency would go under. At the beginning of the first day of the strike 83 pits were working and 81 were out. Ten of these, I was told, were not working due to heavy picketing rather than any positive desire to join the strike. By the end of the day the number of pits not working had risen to about 100. The police were fighting a losing battle to ensure that those who wished to work could do so. The Home Office — both ministers and officials — gave them the fullest support, but the situation worsened. On Tuesday morning the flying pickets again descended. On that day it so happened that I was due to see Ian MacGregor about the Channel Tunnel — a quite separate matter in which he had an interest. Peter Walker joined us afterwards and we discussed the situation in the coal fields. Mr MacGregor told me that he had applied for and obtained a civil injunction in the High Court against the NUM executive to restrain the use of flying pickets, using our new trade union law. However, his impression was that the police were failing to uphold the criminal law and that pickets had been able to prevent people going to work. The threat of violence had already resulted in the postponement of plans to hold a strike ballot in the Lancashire area. The Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire areas were due to vote on Thursday but there was a real danger that the vote would be frustrated or that intimidation would force miners to stay at home. I told him that I was dismayed at this news. It was a repetition of what had happened in Saltley in 1972. The criminal law had to be upheld. I said that helping those who wished to work was not enough: intimidation must be stopped.
I went straight out of this meeting and asked to speak to Leon Brittan. As luck would have it the next meeting that day had originally been called to discuss the issue of strikes in essential services, on which we had a manifesto commitment, and Leon and other relevant ministers were already on their way. At the meeting I repeated that we must uphold the criminal law as it related to picketing. Leon shared my unease at what was happening. His view was that the police already had all the powers they needed to deal with the problem, including the power to turn pickets back and to disperse them if they assembled in excessive numbers. He told us that he had made this position clear in public and would repeat the message. But, of course, there were tight constitutional limits on what he, as Home Secretary, could do to instruct the police on their duties. We agreed that Michael Havers would set out the legal position to the House. I was determined that the message should go out from government loud and clear: there would be no surrender to the mob and the right to go to work would be upheld.
Mass picketing continued. By Wednesday morning only twenty-nine pits were working normally. The police were by now drafting in officers from around the country to protect the miners who wanted to work: 3000 police officers from seventeen forces were involved. At this point in the dispute the violence centred on Nottinghamshire, where the flying pickets from Yorkshire were determined to secure a quick victory. However, the Nottinghamshire men went ahead with their ballot and the result that Friday showed 73 per cent against the strike. Area ballots the following day in the Midlands, the North-West and the North-East coalfields also gave heavy majorities against strike action. Altogether, of the 70,000 miners balloted, over 50,000 voted to work.
Early though it was, this was one of the turning points of the strike. The huge police operation was highly effective and together with the moral force of the ballot results it reversed the trend towards a shut down of the pits. The first, crucial battle had been won. On Monday morning the latest information was telephoned through to me in Brussels, where I was attending a European Council. Forty-four pits were now working, compared with just eleven on Friday. In the areas which had voted for a return to work the great majority of pits had gone back. The militants knew that if it had not been for the courage and competence of the police the result would have been very different and from now on they and their mouthpieces in the Labour Party began a campaign of vilification against them.
On the day the NUM executive met, I told Cabinet that I would set up a committee of ministers under my chairmanship to monitor the strike and to decide what action should be taken. Willie Whitelaw was a member, of course, and deputized for me when I could not be present, though this was rarely necessary. Peter Walker, as Energy Secretary, and Leon Brittan, as Home Secretary, were crucial figures. The Chancellor, Nigel Lawson, was directly concerned as the issue was of vital importance to the economy; he also brought to bear his experience as former Energy Secretary. Norman Tebbit (Trade and Industry), Tom King (Employment) and Nick Ridley (Transport), all had obvious contributions to make. We sought to minimize the impact of the strike on industry to prevent the strike spreading by sympathy action and to keep coal stocks moving by road and rail. In Scotland, George Younger had responsibility both for Scottish mining and for Scotland’s police. All these ministers or their deputies regularly attended. When issues of law arose the Attorney-General, Michael Havers, also joined us. The group met about once a week, though more frequently when conditions required it. In practice the large membership sometimes proved unwieldy and so Peter Walker and I made some important decisions in smaller meetings, called ad hoc to deal with developments as they arose, particularly when notice was short.
There was a wider question relating to the work of this committee, however: to determine the proper role of government in the strike. I repeatedly made it clear that prime responsibility for dealing with the strike lay with the managements of the NCB and those other nationalized industries involved (the CEGB, BSC and British Rail (BR)). They operated within financial and other constraints set by government and by statute. But so much was at stake that no responsible government could take a ‘hands-off’ attitude: the dispute threatened the country’s economic survival. Consequently, I tried to combine respect for their freedom of action with clear signals as to what would or would not be financially and politically acceptable. The Opposition never seemed to be able to make up their mind whether we were intervening too much or too little. Their uncertainty, combined with the successful outcome, suggests to me that perhaps we got the delicate balance about right.
The Government’s relationship with the police and the courts was an even more sensitive issue during the strike. Britain had no national police force: the police were organized into fifty-two local forces, each headed by a Chief Constable who had operational control. Authority was divided between the Home Secretary, local police authorities (made up of local councillors and magistrates) and Chief Constables. Inevitably during the miners’ strike this tripartite system of policing was put under considerable strain: challenges to the rule of law posed by violence on the scale that took place during this strike clearly needed to be dealt with, swiftly and efficiently, at national level. Accordingly, the National Reporting Centre (NRC) — originally set up in 1972 — was activated in Scotland Yard, allowing the police to pool intelligence and to co-ordinate assistance from one force to another under the ‘mutual aid’ provisions of the 1964 Police Act. However, the tripartite system survived a good deal better than the Labour Party’s hysterical denunciations might have suggested. Problems did arise in financing the extra police costs under this system, but these were resolved by steadily taking more and more of the burden on to the Exchequer.
Mob violence can only be defeated if the police have the complete moral and practical support of government. We made it clear that the politicians would not let them down. We had already given them the equipment and the training they would need, learning the lessons of the 1981 inner-city riots. More recently the police had shown themselves skilled in tackling violence masquerading as picketing when pickets from the National Graphical Association (NGA) had tried to close down Eddie Shah’s newspaper in Warrington in November 1983. On that occasion the police had made it clear that force of numbers would not be allowed to prevent people from going to work if they wished to do so. They had also for the first time made effective use of powers to prevent a breach of the pe
ace by turning back pickets before they arrived at their destination.
Another prerequisite of effective policing is that the law should be clear. Early in the strike Michael Havers made a lucid statement in a written answer to the Commons, setting out the scope of police powers to deal with mass picketing, including the power (mentioned above) to turn back pickets on their way to the picket line when there are reasonable grounds to expect a breach of the peace. These common law powers long predated our trade union legislation, and were matters of criminal rather that civil law. In the second week of the strike the Kent NUM challenged those powers in court, but they lost the case. The prevention of large numbers of pickets assembling to intimidate those who wished to work would be vital to the outcome of the dispute.
The relationship between government and the courts was, if anything, more sensitive still. It is right that people should have been vigilant on this question. The independence of the judiciary is a matter of constitutional principle, though the administration of the courts falls properly within the sphere of government responsibilities. As the incidents of violence accumulated it became a real concern to us that so few of those charged had been brought to court and convicted. It is vital if the rule of law is to prevail that criminal actions as visible as those during the strike be punished quickly: people need to see that the law is working. A backlog of cases built up, stemming partly from the delaying tactics of offenders and their solicitors, partly from the obstruction of some magistrates in areas where there was sympathy with the strikers’ cause. The sheer number of cases also imposed a sudden strain on the system. In time we made available more buildings and professional stipendiary magistrates and the backlog began to be cleared. Stipendiary magistrates get through many more cases than their lay counterparts, but the Lord Chancellor could only respond to requests for help and had no power to make appointments unasked. Another problem was that policemen trying to defend themselves against hails of missiles and other assaults have little time to assemble detailed evidence. Cases were difficult to sustain. In the end all too many of the men of violence went unpunished.
The Downing Street Years, 1979-1990 Page 45