SOLIDARITY FOREVER?

Thirty-three years ago, the newly-relected Social Credit government of Bill Bennett brought down the most dramatic, yay outlandish, budget and “restraint” package in B.C. history. What happened next is detailed here in an essay I wrote a year or so ago.

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On July 7, 1983, Bill Bennett and his Social Credit government, freshly elected to a third successive term in office, unleashed a revolution in British Columbia. This was a revolution from the right. Fueled by the radical conservatism of Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher and Milton Friedman’s economic neo-liberalism, the Socreds took aim at all those elements in society they had never liked. With no advance notice, a total of 26 repressive bills came down the chute in a single day, along with a harsh government restraint budget that dramatically slashed social spending. Rent controls were abolished. Landlords were given the right to evict tenants without cause. The Human Rights Commission was shut down, its workers fired on the spot. The Employment Standards Branch was killed off. Scrutiny of Crown corporations was wound up, while the government tightened its grip over local school board budgets and community colleges, including course content. And on and on.

The worst of the onslaught focused on workers and unions in the public sector. Under Bill 2, they lost the right to negotiate almost anything except wages and benefits, even as wage controls were extended indefinitely. Bill 3, designed to pave the way for a wave of firings, wiped out job security and, incredibly, gave all public sector authorities the power to terminate workers without cause, regardless of seniority. (The first list of government employees to be fired included the names of B.C. Government Employees Union executive members John Shields and Diane Woods.) This was, indeed, “Black Thursday”.

The legislative barrage came at a dire time for the labour movement, already weakened by yet another NDP defeat at the polls and the sudden death earlier that year of Jim Kinnaird, the tough, able Scot who had headed the B.C. Federation of Labour since 1976. Kinnaird’s stopgap successor was Art Kube, a portly, relatively unknown, Canadian Labour Congress staffer with little real union experience.

Yet the fightback was immediate and intense. In fact, there has never been anything quite like the concerted Operation Solidarity protest that swept the province through four turbulent months during the summer and fall of 1983. The popular, union-led uprising against Premier Bennett’s Restraint Program brought B.C. to the verge of a general strike, involving hundreds of thousands public sector workers, with B.C.’s powerful private sector unions waiting to join in the moment anyone was punished for walking off the job. Resistance was further powered by an unprecedented coalition between the labour movement and community advocacy groups that had seen so many of their own rights trampled. Kube, his belief system forged in the social democracy of his native Austria, was to prove an adept leader and strategist, who steered this unlikely coalition until the wheels fell off at the very end.

George Hewison of the Fishermen’s Union was first off the mark. He called a meeting. Instead of the usual suspects, more than a hundred people showed up. They decided to hold a demonstration. Two weeks later, 20,000 people marched across the Georgia Viaduct. The rally featured IWA leader Jack Munro’s enduring observation on whether the numerous protest signs referring to “fascism” went too far. “If it looks like a duck, and it walks like a duck, then it’s probably a goddamned duck!” he thundered. The crowd roared back.

Kube soon coordinated union action, bringing Fed affiliates and their bitter, independent Canadian union rivals together for the first time, under the banner of the astutely-named Operation Solidarity.

Social activists also threw themselves into the struggle. A myriad opposition groups sprang up. One left-wing lawyer complained his practice was going to seed. “All I do is go to meetings.” Kube harnessed this activism into a separate Solidarity Coalition, hired several organizers, funded the rambunctious Solidarity Times newspaper, and convinced the Coalition they were equal partners with the protest’s potent trade union arm.

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Demonstrations and wildcat strikes, including a lengthy occupation of the Tranquille mental health facility in Kamloops, soon spread throughout the province. Twenty-five thousand swarmed the lawn of the legislature. Elsewhere, even in Social Credit strongholds, protestors rallied in the hundreds and thousands. But nothing topped the day tens of thousands public sector workers booked off and crammed every nook and cranny of Vancouver’s Empire Stadium. Just when it seemed the old stadium was completely jammed, in marched hundreds of uniformed firefighters, led by their famed marching band. It was a chilling, emotional moment that no one who was there would ever forget. Hope and optimism were in the air.

But Bill Bennett refused to buckle, deriding protestors as losers re-fighting the last election. Despite heroic, marathon efforts by NDP MLAs to stall the legislation, one by one the bills were pushed through.

Solidarity leaders gambled on one more demonstration, this one in mid-October, organized by the Coalition. The turnout stunned those on both sides of the battle. An estimated 80,000 demonstrators thronged the downtown streets of Vancouver. It remains the biggest protest in the city’s long, stormy history. It was time to move to the picket line. Solidarity hatched a war plan, calling for a series of escalating public sector walkouts, culminating in an all-out general strike.

Two weeks after the huge October protest, 40,000 members of the BCGEU walked off the job – legally – while their negotiators demanded the turfing of Bill 2 and an exemption from Bill 3. A week later, thousands of public school teachers and other education workers defied the law and hit the bricks on an illegal strike, seeking similar job protection. Municipal employees and the province’s critical ferry workers were next in line, set to strike on Monday, Nov. 14.

Finally, the government got nervous. They began to talk seriously about issues that had inflamed B.C. for months. Norman Spector, Bennett’s right hand man, parachuted into round-the-clock bargaining with the BCGEU at the B.C. Labour Relations Board. Spector also met secretly with B.C. Federation of Labour heavyweights Jack Munro and Mike Kramer.

The end came in a series of dramatic events that concluded less than 12 hours before the threatened ferry workers’ strike. The BCGEU won a deal containing wage increases, the death of Bill 2 and a Bill 3 exemption that recognized layoffs by seniority. It was a victory of sorts, and BCGEU negotiators brought out the champagne at their union headquarters in Burnaby. It was now a union show. The Solidarity Coalition and its causes, which had been such a part of the four-month protest, were shunted to the sidelines. “How can they celebrate when they’re selling out human rights?” lamented one Coalition leader, bitterly.

But before the picket lines came down, Operation Solidarity still wanted a pact with Bill Bennett to confirm their limited gains. With Kube home sick, Jack Munro flew to Kelowna to “negotiate” with the Premier. Sensing Solidarity’s desperation, however, Bennett refused to make any public statement committing the government to anything. Over the phone, Kube told Munro to “get the hell out of there”. Munro stayed. With the unanimous support of Federation executive members back in Vancouver, he soon stepped onto Bennett’s darkened porch and announced an end to Solidarity’s magnificent movement. Not with a bang, but a whimper.

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(Vancouver Sun photo)

Privately, the government agreed to Bill 3 exemptions throughout the public sector, keeping money saved by the teachers’ walkout in the education system, and consultation on a few social matters. Yet this seemed a pittance to those who had had such high hopes for so many months. Instead of a victory celebration, there was bitterness and confusion. People felt betrayed. Operation Sellout buttons became popular. Jack Munro was vilified, both inside and outside the trade union movement. Perhaps it was unrealistic to expect union members to strike and sacrifice their own pay cheques for non-monetary, non-union social issues. But this was never articulated to the Solidarity Coalition, which was left out in the rain by the final agreement.

In the cold light of dawn, however, there were still significant achievements to be noted. Nowhere in Canada outside Quebec had a strong, militant labour movement been able to stop a government’s anti-union agenda in its tracks. In the end, after all its bluster, Social Credit completely capitulated on Bills 2 and 3. That clear triumph is often forgotten amid all the unhappiness over the so-called Kelowna Accord. Bennett, himself, was heavily damaged politically. He chose not to run again. The extent of the historic fightback also dampened public enthusiasm for his right-wing, neo-con Restraint Program, few elements of which survive today. It also ensured Bennet would never be hailed a conservative folk hero, except perhaps by the Fraser Institute, as were Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher. For all of that, we can thank Operation Solidarity. And the Solidarity Coalition.

(and here’s what I wrote for the Globe and Mail on the 25th anniversary of the Kelowna Accord http://www.theglobeandmail.com/news/national/back-from-the-brink-25-years-later/article20389444/)

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A BIT MORE ON THE LATE JACK MUNRO

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Writing an obituary on Jack Munro isn’t easy. For one thing, it’s hard to get it out of your head that such a dominant, larger-than-life, one-of-a-kind character has really left us. Secondly, of course, as Jack might have said, there’s just too much goddamned material. 1,800 words really can’t do justice to someone who presided over the news in this province for 30 years, when labour mattered.

My effort for the Globe and Mail is here. There was much that didn’t make the cut. Here are a couple of anecdotes from the good old days.

At the exceedingly bitter B.C. Federation of Labour convention in 1976, forces headed by Munro were trying to unseat the incumbent Fed leadership, under secretary-treasurer Len Guy and president George Johnston. On the convention floor, Munro raised a point of order, complaining that he was being forced to wait so long for his turn to speak that he might have to take a piss right there. Johnston, who was chairing the convention, replied: “Piss away, brother Munro. Piss away.” Even Munro had to laugh.

One of Munro’s more memorable lines came at an early public protest by Operation Solidarity, where he was a featured speaker.  He noted a lot of signs used words such as  ‘jackboots’ and ‘fascism’ to describe Social Credit’s harsh restraint legislation, which, among many elements, allowed public sector employees to be fired without cause, with no regard for job security or seniority. Munro said he wouldn’t necessarily use a word like ‘fascist’ to describe the legislation, then added, in his legendary, bellowing voice: “But if it walks like a duck, and it talks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck, goddammit!”

There was also his still-remembered birthday tribute to then Prime Minister Trudeau. Munro had all the delegates at an IWA convention stand and sing ‘happy birthday’ to the PM, each with a single finger raised in salute.

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And some quotes left on the cutting room floor:

Rob Mingay, who worked in communications for the IWA: “Jack understood the theatre of negotiations. He knew how to get a deal better than anyone I’ve ever seen.”

Deborrah Munro: “Jack’s idea of camping was no remote control for the TV….There was never a dull moment around Jack, but he had a sensitive side that not many people knew about. He could tell stories. We’d go on these long drives, and he’d make up a story. It would go on for two weeks. Each morning, he’d continue where he left off the day before. He might have been a writer, but he didn’t like sitting down and doing the work.”

Operation Solidarity leader Art Kube: “There’s no question he’s the last of a vanishing breed….I didn’t like the Kelowna Accord, but I knew what we were up against. We had 89 injunctions filed against us. The BCGEU had settled, and they wanted the general strike settled, too…But I told Jack in Kelowna to get the hell out of there and we’ll declare victory. That’s what we should have done….There’s the impression that Jack negotiated the Kelowna Accord, which is total nonsense. There should not be any blame attached to Jack for Kelowna.”

Tom Tevlin, who was president of the now defunct BC Forest Alliance: “He got a lot of flak, but a little bit of flak never bothered Jack Munro.”

CLC president Ken Georgetti: “When it came to negotiations, I’m in Jack’s camp. You have to have a relationship with the people you make deals with. You don’t have to have Christmas dinner with them, but you have to have a relationship.”

Keith Bennett, Munro’s chief adversary on the company side of the bargaining table: “We did things that neither his membership nor my membership approved of, but we sure solved a lot of problems….If everybody could have the fights we had, and come away respecting each other and being each other’s friend, the world might be a lot better off.”

Industrial relations expert Mark Thompson: “He was close to the workers. He looked like one. He talked like one. You never saw him in a tuxedo or anything like that. He was a tough guy. He didn’t back down. He was a real bread-and-butter trade unionist.”

UnknownAnd Jack, himself, just before Labour Day: “The labour movement is having a tough time. Everybody’s struggling. We’ve lost some really important values. Workers are such an important part of our society, our way of life, social consciousness, social change. Too many people have forgotten that. We’re not headed up, we’re headed down.

“A lot of these commentators, every damned thing that goes wrong, they blame the workers. Cut the workers pay, cut this, cut that, cut the benefits. If workers got money, they spend it. They buy things. They keep our economy going.  And to drive the bloody people that keep it going down to the bottom is absolute insanity.”

On Jack Munro’s last night, Deborrah had the Canucks game on, as the big fella drifted in and out of consciousness. He missed the home team blowing another third period lead. When she told him what happened, Munro whispered: “Oh, those bloody Canucks.” They were his final words.

(Black and white photos courtesy of Pacific Tribune archives.)

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