The Great London dock strike, 1889 - New General Megathread for the 14th of August 2023
A huge and powerful strike of British dockers against low pay, unsafe conditions and casual, precarious employment contracts which, with international solidarity, won nearly all its demands and marked a turning point in UK working class history.
The dangerous nature of port work, combined with low pay, poor working conditions and widespread social deprivation ensured that the workforce looked to their trade unions for protection. As a result, industrial relations were strained throughout the history of the port.
Until the late 19th century, much of the trade of the port was seasonal. Sugar
came from the West Indies, timber from the north, tea and spices from the
Far East. It was difficult to predict when ships would arrive since bad weather
could delay a fleet.
The number of ships arriving during a period of four successive weeks in 1861
at the West India Dock was 42, 131, 209 and 85. On some days there were many
ships in the docks, on others very few.
There was very little mechanisation - the loading and discharging of ships
was highly labour-intensive. Demand for men varied from day to day because
there was very little advance notice that a ship was arriving. The dock companies
only took on labourers when trade picked up and they needed them.
The 'call-on'
Most workers in the docks were casual labourers taken on for the day. Sometimes
they would be taken on only for a few hours. Twice a day there was a 'call-on'
at each of the docks when labour was hired for short periods.
Only the lucky few would be selected, the rest would be sent home without
payment. The employers wanted to have a large number of men available for
work but they did not want to pay them when there was no work.
The dock strike began over a dispute about 'plus' money during the unloading
of the Lady Armstrong in the West India Docks. 'Plus' money was a bonus paid
for completing work quickly. The East and West India Dock Company had cut
their 'plus' rates to attract ships into their own docks rather than others.
A trade depression and an oversupply of docks and warehousing led to fierce
competition between the rival companies. The cut in payments provided the
opportunity for long-held grievances among the workforce to surface.
Led by Ben Tillet, the men in the West India Dock struck on 14 August and
immediately started persuading other dockers to join them. The Dockers' Union
had no funds and needed help.
The support they needed came when the Amalgamated Stevedores Union, under
Tom McCarthy, joined the strike. Not only did they carry high status in the
port but their work was essential to the running of the docks.
Support from the stevedores
The stevedores' union issued a manifesto, entitled To the Trade Unionists
and People of London. This called on other workers to support the dockers
Other workers followed the lead of the stevedores, including the seamen, firemen,
lightermen, watermen, ropemakers, fish porters and carmen. Strikes broke out
daily in factories and workshops throughout the East End.
The port was paralyzed by what was in effect a general strike. It was estimated
that by 27 August 130,000 men were on strike.
The dockers formed a strike committee to organize the dispute and decide on
its aims. The main strike demand was 'the dockers' tanner' - a wage of 6d
an hour (instead of their previous 5d an hour) and an overtime rate of 8d
per hour.
They also wanted the contract and 'plus' systems to be abolished and 'call-ons'
to be reduced to two a day. They also demanded that they be taken on for minimum
periods of four hours and that their union be recognized throughout the port.
The Strike Committee organised mass meetings and established pickets outside
the dock gates. They persuaded men still at work and 'blacklegs' to come out
on strike.
During the strike the port was at a standstill and the dock companies were
losing money. Despite this, they believed that giving into the dockers' demands
would set a dangerous precedent.
From the beginning of September however money poured in from Australia. The
first instalment of £150 was sent by the Brisbane Wharf Labourers' Union.
In all, over £30,000 was raised by the
Australian dockers and their allies. It arrived at just the right time and
meant the end of worries about feeding the strikers and their families.
The dockers could now face a longer strike and the leaders knew they could
now concentrate on the picket lines. Defeat through hunger now seemed very
unlikely and the dockers scented victory.
On 5 September, when the strike was in its fourth week, the Lord Mayor of
London formed the Mansion House Committee.Its aim was to try to bring the two sides together to end the strike. Ben Tillett and John Burns represented the dockers at the negotiations.
The Mansion House Committee persuaded the employers to meet practically all
the dockers' demands. After five weeks the Dock Strike was over. It was agreed
that the men would go back to work on 16 September.
After the successful strike, the dockers formed a new General Labourers' Union.
Tillett was elected General Secretary and Tom Mann became the union's first
President. In London alone, nearly 20,000 men joined this new union.
The success of the Dockers' Strike was a turning point in the history of trade
unionism. Workers throughout the country, particularly the unskilled, gained
a new confidence to organise themselves and carry out collective action. From
750,000 in 1888, trade union membership grew to 1.5 million by 1892 and to
over 2 million by 1899
Time for the epilogue. This journey was all about people, so let’s close the book on some of them for now.
First, the new friends. Australia took off for Amsterdam. She’s an insanely hot skateboarding, surfing, ayahuasca taking whale biologist and probably the coolest person I’ve ever met. Self-loathing, especially related to body image, is easily my biggest problem in life so meeting her should have sent me on a negativity spiral. But Australia is a feminist and instead we bonded over the shared struggle for beauty and how unjust it all is. We both have eating disorders. She’s anorexic. I binge eat and brought a fucking bathroom scale on a hiking trip. It was nice to meet someone who’s also been through it. I will miss standing in solidarity against the patriarchy with her.
Belgium for sure had a crush on me, and we’ve got a lot in common, but he’s also ten years younger than I am. As a millennial who hangs out exclusively with zoomers this is the burden I must carry. It’s not going to happen, but I have a ton of admiration for him and it was honestly moving that he got teary-eyed saying goodbye to me. We’d only known each other for two days! The power of the Camino.
Old friends. London has been chugging along for days despite his age and foot injury. I only got to walk with him twice (though we drank together a dozen times or so) but he’s been sending me encouraging texts for a week. He was instrumental in pulling me out of my bipolar depressive episode. I sent him a picture of the pilgrim certificate I got in Santiago to remind him that it’s all worth it. Literally. He wanted to know if it’s worth the 3€ lol.
Quebec. She’s been back in Montreal for weeks already since she was never doing the whole thing, but we’ve stayed in touch and it’s absurd how much her presence was missed on the back half of the pilgrimage. She told me that just seven days on the way was enough to reframe how she views relationships, including friendships. I feel like I was just a tiny weird little blip in other people’s experiences but it sounds like that isn’t true. Quebec was a true friend to me and she saw me the same way. It’s humbling. Why do all these cooler and prettier women keep liking me? What do I do with all these strong female friendships??
Brazil. What can I say?
Prior to yesterday I had convinced myself that Brazil didn’t really like me that much, or that he had abandoned me to walk with Brighton and Iceland and the other college guys. I was sad and confused about his decision to enter the city ahead of me instead of together. Even Quebec was confused about this development and she’s in Canada.
I still don’t really know why he did that but it doesn’t matter. He tracked me down in the city right away yesterday morning and then joined me and Australia/Belgium for dinner and drinks at night. We had a terrific time and it was amazing seeing friends from the start and end of the Camino come together.
I was going to leave Santiago early this morning until Brazil invited me to attend Pilgrim’s Mass at the cathedral. He’s very religious but in a good way where he also hates the Catholic church as an institution, so much so that he’s often skipped visiting cathedrals. Whatever the reason, he wanted to attend this time and he wanted me to join him.
This was indeed a special Mass, for we were able to experience the swinging Botafumerio, a massive urn of frankincense that brothers of the church propel through the air with ropes. Usually they only swing the Botafumerio during special events so this was a rare and magnificent thing to witness. I broke into tears. The Camino doesn’t have any one clear dramatic ‘end’ moment like climbing Katahdin, unless you’re a big fan of walking around a corner and seeing the front of a big building. But this? THIS was what I walked for. Watching that urn swing in front of St. James’ sea scalloped tomb to swells of music as the priest offered his blessings for “our return to the Camino of everyday life” had me bawling. I saw Brazil take communion for the first time this whole trip. We were both sobbing. We were together for the big finish after all.
Saying goodbye was difficult. Though we didn’t know each other at the time, he and I left Saint-John-Pied-de-Port side by side almost a month ago. He recently discovered that he even shows up in snapshots I took that day before we met.
We got breakfast in a coffee shop. He had something important he wanted to tell me. “You don’t like to be alone,” he said. “But you’re not. You never will be, even if you’re walking by yourself. You’re not alone because you have you and that’s enough.”
We hugged in the town square for over a minute. He left to catch a train. I’m sure he’s on his way back to São Paulo right now.
But me? I turned around, tightened my pack, and threw on some music. It was the same playlist I listened to on that morning out of Saint-Jean, just a day after being dumped by my friends and left feeling as lonely as I ever have. Brazil was walking right ahead of me that day. This time he was behind, going the other way. But it’s okay that I’m by myself. I’m not alone anymore.