The union leader everyone had heard of
Bob
Crow, who has died at the age of 52, was an intensely divisive figure.
But he was easily the best-known trade unionist in the UK.
One of the barbs most commonly levelled at Bob Crow as leader
of the RMT union was that he was a "dinosaur". A relic of a bygone age
when unions had a place in national life.
In a memorable interview last month, the BBC's Jeremy Paxman raised the point. "You're a dinosaur." And Crow's response?
"Well, at the end of the day, they was around for a long while."
Crow went on to set out the aims of a trade unionist: "Job
security, being safe, best possible pay, best possible conditions,
decent pensions, and a world that lives in peace."
That simplicity of approach has been reflected in the reaction to his death.
To his admirers he was a working-class hero and fighter who stood up
for his members and won. To his enemies he was a bully who inflated his
workers' wages by bringing misery upon commuters.
One of Crow's more remarkable achievements was becoming one of
the UK's best-known characters at a time when the rest of the nation's
trade union movement had faded into comparative obscurity compared with
its 1970s heyday.
Len McCluskey and Dave Prentis lead the two biggest unions in
the United Kingdom with 1.5m and 1.3m members respectively. But neither
is remotely as well-known as was Crow. "He was Britain's best-known
trade union leader by a country mile," says Kevin Maguire, associate
editor of the Daily Mirror. "He was the only one who would actually get
stopped in the street by people."
It wasn't just his willingness to lead his members into
strike action that earned him this profile. It was also the extravagant
Bob Crow persona.
He was the Millwall supporter (club chant: "No-one likes us, we
don't care"), the council house-dweller who earned more than the prime
minister, the firebrand left-winger with a bust of Lenin on his desk and
a Staffordshire bull terrier named Castro.
There was his physical appearance, too. The flat caps and
duffel coats. An almost cartoonish, bull-necked rendition of an East End
hardman, he looked like a character in an early Guy Ritchie film, but maintained in interviews he hadn't thrown a punch since he was at school.
He was also a bluntly articulate advocate for transport
workers whose unmistakable Essex vowels could regularly be heard on the
Today programme or the rolling news channels cutting through the detail
of the latest bargaining round or terms and conditions dispute.
There was also the fact that, on his own terms, he was hugely
successful. The Rail, Maritime and Transport Union's membership soared
from 50,000 to 80,000 during the first seven years of his leadership.
And this in turn was, of course, because of the wage rises -
frequently above inflation - that he delivered for them, not to mention
the generous terms and conditions they enjoyed. According to Transport
for London, Tube drivers earn £50,000 a year as well as the right to
free travel on the TfL network - for them and one other nominated
person.
Such was the pervasiveness of his
public image that many would assume that his union represents every
single Tube worker. It doesn't - Aslef (the Associated Society of
Locomotive Engineers and Firemen) represents 70% of the drivers.
The RMT represented everyone from North Sea oil rig workers
to provincial train drivers, but it was Crow's marshalling of London
transport workers that earned his role in the spotlight. There is no
other British city that can be brought to a standstill in quite the same
way London can.
The Tube strikes could generate massive pulsating crowds
outside stations, shoving matches at bus stops and 10-mile walks to
work. This has always been given a prominence in the media that other
disputes have not enjoyed.
Bob Crow interviewed by Jeremy Paxman in February 2014
In the eyes of his opponents, Crow's achievements were gouged
out by exploiting his position in order to inflict misery on travellers.
But to his members it was a testament to his tactical acumen,
negotiating skills and mastery of industrial relations.
What also made him stand out in an era of slick, well-groomed, professionalised politics was a habit of saying the unsayable.
Whether it was his politics - he steadfastly described
himself as a "communist/socialist" - or his willingness to swear in
interviews, he was to many a bracing counterblast to the bland
homogeneity of modern politics.
In some newspapers he was derided as a "champagne socialist",
a "blackmailing union bully" and guilty of "sickening hypocrisy". His
holidays were seized upon and mocked - "lobster-red baron" was one jibe.
But he gave as good as he got.
When criticised for taking a holiday in Rio ahead of strike
action by RMT members, he retorted: "What do you want me to do, sit
under a tree and read books of Karl Marx every day?"
"Trade unions are undoubtedly weaker than they were 20 or 30
years ago and politicians have been put through the dishwasher to never
put a word out of place," says Maguire. By contrast, he adds, "big,
burly, shaven-headed Bob told it like it was".
In fact, industry insiders reported that he was more prepared in private to strike a bargain than his public images suggested.
"Behind the scenes he was a very canny negotiator," says rail
expert Christian Wolmar. "He would do this thing of taking a public
stance, making a lot of noise, using the media to good effect to battle
away for his cause, while behind the scenes he would be negotiating
quite carefully, really tried hard, to avoid the strikes which publicly
he was calling for."
All this made him a figure who inspired admiration and even affection from his political opponents.
His long-time foe Boris Johnson, with whom he frequently
clashed, hailed him on Twitter as "a man of character who fought
tirelessly for his members". Ukip leader Nigel Farage tweeted: "Sad at
the death of Bob Crow. I liked him and he also realised working-class
people were having their chances damaged by the EU."
In fact, it was often with Labour figures that Crow - an
erstwhile member of the Communist party - most frequently clashed. The
RMT was kicked out of Labour after some branches voted to support
left-wing rivals. Tony Blair, he once said, "squandered a massive
landslide from an electorate hungry for change, poured billions of
public pounds into private pockets and accelerated the growing gap
between rich and poor".
His right-wing opponents made much of his large salary. To
his members, however, this working-class-boy-made-good persona only
burnished the notion that he was fighting to win the same for them, too.
"He didn't apologise for his salary, he didn't apologise for
his lifestyle. What mattered was that the union grew under him and that
he delivered for his members," says Roger Seifert, professor of
industrial relations at the University of Wolverhampton. "He was totally
proud and upfront about his own working-class origins and he was
unabashed and unashamed about representing the interests of his
members."
This quote by Bob Crow defending himself against these charges perhaps describes his philosophy better than any other.
"This trade union fights for the right of our members to
enjoy the finer things in life," he said. "Why should it just be the
bankers, politicians and the idle rich who get all the best things? As a
militant trade union we demand a standard of living for our members
that enables them to share in the fine wines and fine times that the
likes of David Cameron and his Old Etonian mates take for granted."
Whether regarded as a bullying dinosaur or a defender of the workers, he leaves behind no-one else quite like him.
