Race and Labour in Twentieth-Century Britain [2019 ed.] 0714632384, 9780714632384, 9780714640525, 9781315035024

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RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

Edited by

KENNETH LUNN

First published 1985 in Great Britain by Frank Cass and Company Limited Published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN 52 VanderbiltAvenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint ofthe Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Copyright© 1985 by Taylor & Francis. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Race and labour in twentieth century Britain. I.Minorities - Employment - Great Britain - History - 20th century I.Lunn, Kenneth 331.6'0941 HD6305.M5 ISBN 0-7146-3238-4 This group of studies first appeared in a Special Issue on 'Race and Labour in Twentieth-Century Britain' of Immigrants & Minorities, Vol.4, No.2

ISBN 13: 978-0-7146-3238-4 (pbk)

Contents Editor's Note

vi

Race Relations or Industrial Relations?: Race and Labour in Britain, 1880-1950

Kenneth Lunn

1

Immigrants and Strikes: Some British Case Studies 1870-1914

Kenneth Lunn

30

The Glasgow Race Disturbances of 1919

Jacqueline Jenkinson

43

Regulating the Reserve Army: Arabs, Blacks and the Local State in Cardiff, 1919-45

Neil Evans

68

'It is not a case of numbers' : A Case Study of Institutional Racism in Britain, 1941-43 Marika Sherwood

116

Rationalization and the Politics of Segregation: Indian Workers in Britain's Foundry Industry, 1945-62

Mark Duffield

142

Race and Labour in Britain: A Bibliography

V. F. Gilbert

173

Index

181

Editor's Note

This collection of essays was put together with a view to furthering the study of the history of immigration into Britain. Naturally enough, a good deal of attention in recent years has been directed at 'race relations' in Britain from the 1960s onwards. As Peter Fryer's recent study, Staying Power (1984), has shown, there is a rich and important history of black settlement before these years and its significance in shaping responses towards more recent migrants has still to be adequately evaluated. We are constantly being reminded of the legacy of empire and its importance in terms of influencing current policy and attitudes. We know surprisingly little about the exact nature of that legacy and the ways in which it relates to events in the second half of the twentieth century. Clearly, this volume does not offer an instant remedy to those deficiencies. What it does do is indicate the necessity of carrying out basic research within the framework utilized by its contributors. The new techniques of social history should push us beyond the institutionalized forms of evidence. Local studies will be crucial in the reconstruction of immigrant history and of host responses to those minority groups. Only by dealing with those attitudes within the broader setting of work, community, politics and historical background can we begin to make sense of the detailed picture which is to be uncovered. I would like to record my gratitude to the contributors for their willingness to become involved in this project and for the constructive dialogue which was part of the process. Thanks for their assistance and patience should go to Sarah Bourne and Lydia Linford at Frank Cass. The index was compiled by Sybil Lunn.

Race Relations or Industrial Relations?: Race and Labour in Britain, 1880-1950 Labour responses towards immigrants in the period 1880-1950 have too often been defined either by the nature of TUC and union resolutions or by a simplistic notion of overt hostility on the part of the British working class. By looking at three distinct case studies, dealing with different work situations and immigrant groups, this study hopes to focus on the complexity of responses and to offer some insights into the varied nature of labour attitudes during these years. The starting point for this essay was, first of all, the consistenly argued approach of Castles and Kosack1 with regard to immigrants and the class structure in modern European society: that the perspective of race relations was an inappropriate model for the determination of immigrants' position within that society. With some adaptions, this is the view of one of the most prolific writers on race and labour in Britain in recent years, Robert Miles. Initially, he was concerned, as were Castles and Kosack, essentially with the post-Second World War period but in one of his recent works, Racism and Migrant Labour,2 he has dealt at some length with responses to Irish immigration in the nineteenth century using the conceptual framework developed for the later period. The essential point of the approach is that much of the 'race relations' literature is ill-conceived, precisely because it concentrates on that perspective. This focus distorts an understanding and analysis of the position of immigrants in British society. First, it presupposes that blacks, Asians, any immigrant group in fact, are only significant in their responses to situations defined by racial or ethnic characteristics, that is, in situations involving racism and discrimination. This concentration detracts from other, possibly more fundamental, economic and social dimensions of their experience and from a meaningful analysis of the ideological role of racial categorization. Second, the recent attention given to black and Asian immigration post-1945 has distorted the overall nature of immigration into Britain, as two recent works by Walvin and Fryer have shown. 3 Blacks have been a considerable presence in Britain since at least the sixteenth century and therefore have a long history of settlement but, in terms of numbers, white immigrants have been far more significant. Focusing on black immigrants as 'blacks' rather than as 'immigrants' has obscured what for Miles is the most important theme, that of labour migration. This would provide the context for looking at the British experience as part of a wider international phenomenon, meeting the requirements of particular stages of capitalist development.

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Thus, for Miles, analysis should begin with the place of migrant labour in capitalist relations of production, then look at 'racialised migrant labour in political and ideological relations', since it is through these relations that, in Britain since 1945, migrant labour has been the focus for the articulation and reproduction of racism. It is from this kind of analysis that this essay has come about. The concern here is to examine aspects of the British labour movement's responses to immigrants between c.1870 and 1950. There are undoubtedly problems for the historian in using some of the methodology of sociology: the evidence is often very different and requires a set of techniques sometimes at odds with the face-to-face evaluations of the contemporary social scientist. Nevertheless, this should not discourage a more rigorous and analytical historical approach. The main theme, above all, is that, just as in contemporary Britain, working-class attitudes towards 'outsiders' were incredibly complex, comprising both positive and negative stereotypes and exhibiting a variety of expressions, racism being only one. The dangers of generalizing about a single, unified, working-class or labour response should be made apparent. What is needed is some notion of how particular responses come to be articulated at particular moments. There are three chronological divides which mark this work. The first is the period between 1880 and the First World War, where much recent research has been concentrated. The second is the inter-war period, one very much neglected. The emphasis here will be on one particular union, the National Union of Seamen, which had to come to terms with the employment of foreign seamen in a period of acute unemployment. This general study complements Neil Evans' work in this volume, which deals in some detail with specific dimensions of the NUS attitudes. The final section looks at the nature of and responses to the settlement, temporary and permanent, of East Europeans after the Second World War, a dimension of immigration often overshadowed by the beginnings of large-scale West Indian migration. Together, these studies open up important dimensions of this historical and sociological debate. I Despite the fact that recent work in the field of immigration into Britain between 1880 and the First World War has dealt with responses of the host society, we still know little about the attitudes of the labour movement towards those immigrants. Most studies cite the resolutions hostile to alien immigration which were passed by the TUC in the 1890s but also make some reference to a certain dichotomy, largely caused by the conflict between perceived economic competition on the one hand and the requirements of international solidarity and brotherhood on the other. However, such a brief analysis in itself hardly offers an overall perspective. To be fair, much of the recent work has been concerned with more generalized views of reactions to immigration4 and tends, therefore, to

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3

deal in only a limited way with specific labour responses. In order to make a more ordered assessment, more detailed analysis is required. This may be a hackneyed phrase of the research paper or thesis but its relevance in this case is clear. There is a substantial gap in primary investigation and also in the drawing together of many disparate secondary sources. In attempting to detail 'British labour's responses to immigration', all three of those elements need equal consideration. Herein lies the weakness of much of the existing material. There exist separate accounts of London labour responses, a few details on Manchester, Leeds and industrial Scotland but no real effort has been made to balance all these different narratives. Generalizations have usually emerged from the London experience, which has produced many distortions.5 Secondly, in dealing with the labour movement, we need to focus on evidence other than the purely institutional, a weakness of much existing labour history. Resolutions to the TUC should be the starting point of any investigation of labour attitudes to race and immigration, not the conclusion.6 In order to obtain some idea of the attitudes of the workforce, we have to move beyond the more institutionalized and biographical studies. Finally, existing work on immigration has been largely just that. There is a tendency to deal with the process of immigration in a very narrow conceptual way - as Bill Williams says, there has been a tendency to ghettoize immigrant history. For example, explanations of the involvement (or non-involvement) of Jews in trade union activity in these years has often been explained in terms of ethnic make-up. Little attempt is made to consider these developments within the wider setting of British economic, social and political history, to see Jewish responses as a reflection of a class, or group, interest rather than an ethnic one. Similarly, responses towards the immigrants have been seen purely in terms of race and ethnicity. This is not to suggest that class always supercedes ethnicity but to offer a more complex pattern of interaction than has previously been provided. 7 In the light of these very cursory remarks, then, some re-evaluation of attitudes can begin to be undertaken. Those themes most likely to produce significant variations from fairly well-estalished traditional views are: (a) the study of immigrant trade unionists and non-unionists and of immigrant Jewish unions within the framework of the specific industries, their histories and work-processes, and within the broader context of British and regional economic and social history. (b)an awareness that Britain means England, Scotland, Wales and, in this period, Ireland, not merely London and few other industrial towns. Certainly, reasons of numerical importance and concentration mean that the East End must have its place in any study but there are other areas where immigrants visited, landed or settled. It is also important to look at areas where direct economic competition or settlement did not take place. Attitudes are not based merely on presence or proximity.8

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(c) an attempt to move beyond the TUC level of labour debate, to use official union records merely as one indicator of grassroots feelings and to offer, in what is a very difficult area for historical re-creation, some further interpretation of working-class approaches to the influx of these years. (d) to deal with the 'Jewish' aspect of immigrant-host responses in this period as only one element of reaction. Certainly, the bulk of immigrants were Jewish and thus, as has been clearly documented in previous studies, hostility to their settlement in Britain could be couched in overtly anti-Semitic terms. This created a dilemma for those who wished to avoid the label 'anti-Semite', hence the massive over-use of the term 'alien' rather than 'Jew' in this period. It is, however, possible to find evidence of non-Jewish immigration at this time, which provides some valuable contrasts. Free from the dangers of accusations of anti-Semitism, British labour could voice its feelings towards these other newcomers. Such a study of non-Jews provides a clearer picture, uncluttered by particular religious, racial or moral inhibitions involved with the Jews, of the nature of responses to aliens, as well as offering further evidence of the variety within the pattern of British immigrant history. Whilst clearly there is a good deal of overlap between these categories, they make for some clarity of presentation. On the theme of Jewish immigration, many of the issues of debate were first raised by a consideration of Bill Fishman's work on the East End of London. 9 This offered a much clearer picture of trade union and 'labour' politics in the broadest sense amongst the Jewish immigrants in that area and provided a series of complex relationships between 'Briton and Alien', one of the chapter headings. Bill Williams' subsequent work on Manchester Jewish unions in the 1890s gave further clues about their participation in the labour movement. Not only does Williams challenge the view that within each Jewish worker was a small master struggling to establish himself but he also seeks to place squarely within the growth and development of English trade unions the emergence of Jewish unions and unionists.10 Thus, the 'new unionism' of the period is seen as playing a significant part in raising a working-class consciousness, Jewish as well as Gentile. It is further suggested that one should consider . . . the particular ambitions and ideas of trade union activists, the structure of the workshop trades and the place of unskilled workers (and not only immigrant workers) within them, and a massive swing of popular feeling against the sweated industries . . . n when evaluating the kind of activity discussed and the responses of the native workforce. Certainly, there was opposition towards Jewish immigrants and particularly to their economic competition in certain trades but this needs to be seen within the framework of opposition to the dilution and

RACE RELATIONS OR INDUSTRIAL RELATIONS?

5

replacement of skilled labour in general. On several occasions, Williams notes the fears expressed against women workers, on the same economic grounds as those directed against the 'greeners', and also the enforcement of stricter regulations on apprenticeships, to prevent undercutting by cheaper young labour.12 It is also apparent from Williams' study that anti-alien sentiments were not necessarily fixed prejudices, incapable of adaptation or change. They could be simply one set of perceptions. As Alan Lee wrote, 'apparently contradictory beliefs and values may be held by the same person at the same time, provided he can compartmentalise them sufficiently to prevent the incongruity becoming apparent to him'.13 Thus, G.D. Kelley, secretary of the Manchester and Salford Trades Council was cheered as the champion of the sweated Jewish workers in the waterproof industry's strike of 1890 but could slip into anti-Semitic imagery with the failure of the Jewish tailors to maintain their union organization in that same year. Belief systems are acquired and used in often apparently illogical ways and more specific attention to the nature of imagery and the consistency of its application in this anti-alien period is required to make some sense of the processes. Many of these theories have been reiterated by the appearance of Buckman's study of Leeds Jewry.14 He challenges head-on the assumptions of 'bourgeois historiography' in this field and is concerned, above all, to identify the nature of industrial conflict within those trades where Jews had a significant presence. For Buckman, the essence of conflict between Jewish owner and employee was class-based, not the ethnic 'family squabble' explanation offered previously. The links between Jewish and English trade unionists are explored and the evidence indicates a complex set of pressures, comparable to those in Manchester. Thus, in 1888, at the height of the socialist revival, the Jewish tailors' union was aided in its struggle against the employers over wages and conditions by contingents from the Gasworkers' Onion. Yet, by the early 1890s, increasing tension and division led to the anti-alien motions introduced and supported by the Leeds Trades Council in those years. In Buckman's view, this hostile response was due to several factors. He points to the state of trade, a breakdown in communications between Jewish and English labour, the weakness of organization in the 'Jewish' trades and the everyday experience of Jewish masters as all having significant impact. Thus, whilst he does not deny the anti-Semitic language and attitudes, he does offer a more analytical approach to the understanding of how and why these should appear. He also makes it clear that this was one response from the Leeds labour movement; there were others, based on class-consciousness and mutual recognition. The need for this broader context is reinforced by a reassessment of one particular industry, that of boot and shoe-making. Both Gainer and Garrard stress the leading role played by unionists in the boot and shoe industry in the anti-alien campaign of the pre-war period. In particular, Charles Freak, Secretary of the National Union of Boot and Shoe

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Operatives, is singled out for his complaints about alien competition to the TUC, Members of Parliament, Select Committees and the Royal Commission on Alien Immigration. Blacklegging, displacement of labour, undercutting and de-skilling were all charges laid against immigrant Jews entering the industry. But, although Garrard comments on new production techniques and their effects on the workforce as part of the explanation for the hostility towards immigrants,15 further explanation can be more illuminating. A history of the union16 makes it clear that the technical and organizational changes outlined by Garrard were under way by the 1870s, well before the peak of Jewish immigration. In many instances the workforce had to adapt to and compete with machinery directly. However, those masters who resisted mechanization or who could not afford the necessary capital investment resorted to the 'team system' of organizing hand work. This system directly challenged the skilled craftsman, who produced a complete item, by devising an elaborate subdivision of labour, a temporarily effective reply to mechanization. This team system was worked by less skilled and cheaper labour. Immigrants were certainly one source of this new labour force; women and youths provided others. And, in fact, when the union's overall campaign to protect existing skills and jobs is considered, it appears that far more prominence was given to the issue of youth employment than to the question of 'greeners'. 17 For example, in 1892, when the TUC was being asked to consider the problem of alien immigration, the boot and shoe workers were pressing the employer's federation to limit the extent of employment of boys in the trade. The owners resisted strongly such an 'unwise and unjustifiable attempt to interfere with the conduct of business for which the manufacturer is responsible'18 and a compromise solution was reached by arbitration in August 1892, when it was agreed that youth employment should be limited in certain categories of work to one boy for every three men and that this ratio was to be achieved gradually.19 This is not to deny opposition to immigrant workers but simply to suggest that a study concerned with reactions to immigration often merely picks up this particular hostility and therefore distorts the overall grievances of the workforce and over-emphasizes the racial or ethnic dimension. Indeed, if we look elsewhere in this period we find similar illustrations of the need to study 'race relations' in their broader setting. There were other challenges to the skilled native workforce in other industries. The apparently growing employment of women was already a significant feature of the late nineteenth century economy. Discussion about the 'intrusion' of women into the labour market was often couched in similar terms to that of the immigrant. Thus, a workman writing to the 'Knitters' Circular' in 1895 . . . listed the substitution of male labour by female as one of the workers' chief grievances, and a correspondent to the 'Hosiery Trade Journal' in 1902 spoke of the 'great fear' of the male hosiery worker that his job would be taken by a woman.20

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7

Indeed, perhaps more attention should be given to the male workers' attitudes towards increasing female employment. In the years leading up to 1914, there was a considerable growth in the numbers of women recorded as employed. In 1881, there were less than four million, according to one statistical source. By 1911, there were nearly five and a half million.21 Although this increase seems to have affected middle-class women rather more, with the opening up of the white-collar sector, there were increasing opportunities in manufacturing of many kinds.22 Thus, we find in 1877 The TUC carried by an overwhelming majority a resolution that parliament should further restrict female employment and in response to an outraged female delegate the secretary of the TUC Parliamentary Committee replied that one of the functions of trade unions was 4to bring about a condition . . . where wives should be in their proper sphere at home, instead of being dragged into competition for livelihood against the great and strong men of the world'.23 Hunt goes on to suggest that this attitude mellowed somewhat before the First World War, and the concern became that of organizing women workers to prevent undercutting of wages and conditions. Here, the parallels with the response towards immigrants seems most obvious. Just as the labour movement, given specific circumstances, could resort to racial hostility, so too could it draw upon a negative stereotype with regard to women within the labour market. The campaigns against immigrant labour, against female employment, against young people, were part of a broad defence against the challenges directed at skilled labour in this period. None of this content seeks to excuse the labour movement of racism, sexism or 'ageism' but suggests that this wider frame of reference is necessary to understand such responses. Inevitably, coverage of the other themes for this period is more limited, given the limited scope of existing research. To pursue the second dimension outlined above, the need to move away from a London-based narrative, reference could be made immediately to the material on Manchester and Leeds already mentioned previously. Buckman in particular has emphasized the necessity of such regional research. But other English towns and cities of significance during this time, Hull, Grimsby, Sheffield, Halifax and Bradford - as well as a number of locations in the North East - lack any similar detailed study. In particular, Liverpool, a city which should provide a rich immigrant history,24 has been relatively ill-served. The other countries within the United Kingdom lack any comprehensive analysis of either immigration or responses to that presence. What fragments do exist suggest the importance of moving beyond the metropolis. It is not simply a case of extending the empirical basis of the research, although that in itself is important. It is the argument of much recent work in this field that different cultural and political traditions influence the reception of and attitudes towards immigrants. Precisely

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how this occurs is a crucial aspect of analysis. Those patterns need to be identified in order to provide a more meaningful analysis. One illustration of this appears in the work of Robert Miles, in which he examines the different place of Irish labour in England and in Scotland in the nineteenth century. He then moves on to discuss hostility towards the Irish and the links between racism and anti-Catholicism, which, for a series of cultural and political reasons, was rather stronger in areas of Scotland than in England.25 Such an analysis outlines the need for far greater use of this methodology in other areas and dimensions of immigration history before 1914. The third theme, relating to the need for a less institutionalized history of both immigrants and responses towards them, is similarly underworked, although the recent trends within social history and local history may produce this much-needed evidence.26 Two fairly recent contributions offer some very telling insights. Alan Lee's material on workingclass images of the Jew between 1880 and 1914 is particularly thoughtprovoking. His attempt to trace the origins of the imagery which formed an important element of attitudes towards Jewish immigration moves way beyond the level of union pronouncements. The methodological analysis and the suggestions for further research, for example, looking at the working-class press for visual images as well as written description, at school-books, the music hall, the early cinema, oral memory - all these should be taken up in earnest.27 The other piece of work is Jerry White's Rothschild Buildings.2* This study of life in an East End tenement block over a period of 40 odd years either side of 1900 gives a much clearer indication of individual responses to immigrants in a few sentences than several pages of parliamentary papers can provide. It offers an approach to the study of history which will be crucial in this overall exercise. For example, although White can list incidences of violence and abuse between Gentile and Jew, his work allows these to be placed in perspective and his general, if tentative, conclusion suggests that relationships were far more stable and mutually dependent than the evidence of Evans-Gordon and the British Brothers' League before the 1902-3 Royal Commission would imply. Until more studies like Rothschilds Buildings are produced, we will continue to be forced back to the dubious evidence like that presented to the Royal Commission. There is also the question of language problems for those dealing with immigrant history. As an example of the way in which new light can be cast on immigrant history, Buckman's work on Yiddish sources for his study of Leeds Jewry is very important. The Yiddish press has far more to say about the nature of labour activity and the involvement of Jews as both employers and employees than the traditional English sources. Murdoch Rogers' work on the Lithuanians in industrial Scotland29 also shows the importance of working through the Lithuanian newspapers. Through this medium, he has been able to reconstruct far more of community life and institutions than the somewhat xenophobic local

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9

press was prepared to discuss or even consider. The contrast in evidence is startling indeed - the 'Drunken Poles' of the local headlines were merely one dimension of a highly-organized and often highly-politicized local community, with its own religious, cultural and social institutions. The final theme is merely to offer some thoughts on the need to identify more specifically the nature of immigration for the period 1880-1914. Whilst it is clear that the majority of incomers were Jewish, there were other non-Jewish immigrants who deserve attention. Refugees from the Russian and Austrian Empires, Catholic Poles and Lithuanians, Italians and Germans 30 were all significant immigrant groups in this period. We know something about the settlement of Lithuanians in the heavy industry area of Lanarkshire and there is some evidence to suggest that they worked in the furnace-rooms at Beckton Gasworks in London in the 1890s.31 The sketchy picture of work at Beckton and hints of a social life and community organization in Silvertown across the Thames produced by the Royal Commission evidence deserve closer investigation and comparison with the work on Scotland.32 Similarly, indications that 'Russian Poles' (Austro-Hungarians) were used as labourers in the Meadow Bank Salt Works at Winsford, Cheshire, from the 1870s provides further indication of the range of foreign labour present in Britain at that time.33 It also reaffirms the importance of Liverpool as an immigrant port, since it was suggested that it was the workhouse authorities in that city who supplied these men.34 In all of these cases, the responses of the native labour force would provide useful evidence to contrast with reactions to Jewish immigrant labour. But these were by no means the only foreigners working and living in Britain during these years. Reference has already been made to the Chinese presence and the kind of reaction which could arise against them in times of stress35 and this will be further indicated by the discussion below on Chinese seamen. Indeed, it is clear that the history of seaports will provide valuable information for 'immigrant' studies and work like that of Neil Evans and Peter Fryer has offered such evidence. The Italian community still requires an adequate historical study. A brief background is sketched in Robin Palmer's essay36 but a more detailed social history for the pre-1914 period still has to rely heavily upon the evidence submitted to the Royal Commission on Alien Immigration, with its inherent biases, and on the writings of anti-alienists like W.H. Wilkins, whose concerns appear to have been the highlighting of vagrancy, childslavery and the unhygienic preparation of ice-cream.37 Murdoch Rodgers' material on Italians in Scotland is a valuable pioneering study to remedy these distortions.38 More specifically, the contribution of other nationalities to the development of the British labour movement can be guaged. Just as the Lithuanians were important in the growth and strengthening of the Scottish miners' union, so too were the Spanish miners who worked in Wales. Indeed, Francis and Smith have suggested a political impact far in excess of their numbers. 'The more "advanced" ideas of socialism and

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particularly syndicalism did not arrive in the upper Swansea Valley with the publication of The Miners' Next Step but with the coming of the Spaniards.' 39 Certainly their reception was not as straightforward as this quotation suggests and they did meet with some hostility. However, the comparison with the Lithuanians in Scotland is in many ways a helpful one and reinforces the point about the need to reserve judgement on the natural and inevitable 'nativism' and 'prejudice' of the British workforce. Overall, then, the balance of work for this period has concentrated on Jewish immigration and its involvement in the world of work and labour relations. Far less has been done on other minority groups, on less institutionalized approaches to this kind of history and on regional and local studies beyond a few major centres. The comparative approach, which is necessary if we are to test seriously the new suggestions from the field of sociology, requires this kind of detail. Otherwise, the explanations of racial hostility cannot reflect that range of responses related to differences in class, status, economic and social differences, political and regional variations, which now seem vital elements of any analysis. II Turning to the inter-war period, it is apparent that attention has focused on particular areas. Work on the 1919 race 'riots'40 and on the development of the Pan-African movement and intellectual responses41 has emerged in the last few years but little has been written about the black working class in these years. They emerge as a 'problem' in the mid-1930s when disturbances in Cardiff have been described as 'the result of accumulated bitterness over discriminatory employment practices'.42 Fryer records that, by 1935, there were 3,000 non-European seamen in Cardiff43 but his account does not fill in gaps between the events of 1919 and 1935. We know little about black communities during these years and probably even less about white attitudes towards them. Neil Evans' study in this volume offers the kind of approach which is vital to an understanding of relations in these years, one which takes account of social, economic and political perspectives nationally and locally. Since the black population of Britain in the inter-war period appears to be concentrated in the ports and many of those who were employed worked as seamen, it seems appropriate that a study of 'race and labour' should concentrate on the union attitudes and responses to foreign and black British seamen. The criticisms of the union for its racism in the 1930s44 need to be put into the wider framework of the union's history and its long-term responses to the employment of 'foreigners'.45 A research thesis on the union up to 192946 and the death of its powerful leader, Havelock Wilson, shows the increasing number of foreign seamen being employed in British ships in the second half of the nineteenth century. Initially, these were North Europeans and Asiatics, particularly Lascars. These men were used more on ships trading overseas although even those in home waters had about ten per cent foreign crews by 1900. The reasons for this increase are seen as the upsurge in trade to the East

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and technological changes in shipping which made for easier tasks on board and therefore provided an opportunity for the employment of relatively unskilled and cheaper labour in many departments. 47 The uncertain nature of employment in the industry made it difficult to recruit and to maintain a stongly unionized workforce and, in the period before 1914, there were rapid fluctuations in the fortunes of the union. Even at the height of its activity in these years, there was never more than 20 per cent of the labour force under union membership and control.4S The nature of the job also meant that meetings were often poorly attended and thus voting on union matters was usually low. This gave more power to local and national officials for the construction and implementation of union policy.4t; It was this situation which allowed Havelock Wilson's domination of the union, both through his own efforts and through the loyalty and mutual interest of most of the union officials. All these characteristics of the union were to be significant in the formulation of its policy towards 'foreigners'. From the early years, the union had campaigned against the employment of foreign seamen. Initially, the hostility was part of the 1890s agitation which was mainly directed against immigrant Jews and, nationally, the union's specific objections were merely part of a much broader opposition.50 The union's major complaints were about wage cutting and restrictions on the employment opportunities of white British seamen. The shipowners claimed that foreigners were more sober, amenable to discipline and better-trained. 51 Initially, the union sought to exclude all foreigners from membership. The obvious weakness of this policy was that it did not prevent the employment of foreign seamen and it also meant than the union had even less influence over the workforce. The policy was soon reversed and the recruitment of foreigners encouraged. In 1902, Wilson claimed that some 40 per cent of union members were foreigners.52 However, in conjunction with the recruitment drive was a consistent attempt to enforce and strengthen the regulations restricting the number and quality of foreign seamen employed. Every possible commission and committee of enquiry was canvassed. Wilson and sympathetic MPs kept up a continuous stream of bills and questions in the Commons. The union took shipowners to court to discourage them from discharging British seamen abroad and unsuccessful efforts were made to repeal the Indian Merchant Shipping Act, which permitted owners to employ Lascars on worse terms of employment than British seamen. Inevitably the campaigns against the employment of Lascar and Chinese seamen encouraged racialist emotions and violent clashes were frequent in East London and South Wales.53 A closer investigation of these 'clashes', however, shows the racial complications of the situation. The union's archives contain a press cuttings book for the early twentieth century and its reports of disturbances in Cardiff in early 1903 have headlines such as 'Racial Feud

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at Cardiff ,54 The report concerns a 'pitched battle' between coloured men 'considering themselves British subjects' and some Greek seamen who were adjudged to be taking their jobs. A deputation from the union to the Mayor of Cardiff complaining about the shipowners' preference for foreign seamen at the expense of Britons made it clear that the objections were not so much directed at the long-settled foreigners, the 'coloured men' but with cases like those of the recently employed Greeks.55 In an earlier union meeting, it was reported that half the audience was coloured and the discussion was about the challenge posed by the employment of Lascar seamen.56 Thus, the 'racial feud' was a very complex one but one indicative of the differing responses of the seaport communities. The response to black British in the inter-war years was not always so supportive. It is apparent that the main targets of the union campaigns before 1914 were Lascars57 and Chinese. The popular press reflected this hostility. Lascars were defined as 'an inferior race of Asiatics'. 'Men who can herd together like pigs, and are fed on cheap meals of rice or other grain, have not got the pluck, endurance, grip or power of a man fed according to English ideas.'5* But above all, it was the Chinese who were the focus of attention and, from 1908 onwards, dominated the union's anti-foreigner stance. The racial stereotyping was at its most virulent in this campaign. According to a union document in 1913, the Chinese were . . . lazy, dirty and insolent, and give way to drink much more than the much-maligned Britisher. In my opinion, if the white man got half the consideration that the yellow heathens do, there would not be so much talk about trouble on British ships.5y This document drew on a range of sources and opinions, shipowners, politicians, union officials and seamen, to denigrate the so-called 'invasion' of Chinese seamen. The imagery was familiar in the context of late Victorian and Edwardian racialism - 'insidious invasion of the Chinese', 'serious menace to our welfare', 'canker . . . slowly eating into our great mercantile marine', 'national danger' and so on.60 The campaign against the Chinese continued during the First World War, as the number of Chinese seamen engaged in British ports increased. The shortage of British labour, and the decrease in the eastern trades during hostilities, were the likely explanations for this rise61 but the union saw their employment as a means of reducing wages and tried to enforce stricter regulations on conditions of employment. 'Not surprisingly, racialism increased, and from the end of 1915, tales of Chinese cowardice in the face of the enemy and perversion while in port were a constant feature of the Seaman"*1 Hostility continued after 1918 and eventually won the restriction on the employment of non-British Chinese. It was this question of British nationality which provided complications for the union, indeed, for all those opposed to the employment of 'foreigners'. Overt racial hostility had often to be tempered by the need to

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13

recognize some of the 'foreigners' as British citizens. We have already noted the response in Cardiff towards black British seamen in 1903, which was relatively supportive and certainly in contrast to the employment of other nationalities. What was increasingly debated after the First World War was the legitimacy of this colonial status, as it applied to Asiatics, Africans, West Indians or Arabs. In the campaign against the Chinese before the war, one of the major complaints was that Chinese falsified their place of birth as either Hong Kong or Singapore in order to claim they were British subjects. They were thus able to escape the language and efficiency tests required of foreign nationals. Even government officials appeared to believe that deceit was taking place. In 1908, the Parliamentary Secretary to the Board of Trade was quoted to this effect. We are not surprised, knowing he is a wily customer, that all documentary evidence might be afforded to show that he is not what he claims to be has disappeared, so that there is really no definite record of his nationality/13 As pressure on employment opportunities increased after 1918, the attempts to discredit colonial subjects were extended. We will see below the discussions about 'Arab' seamen in the 1930s but this particular challenge was part of a broader move. Legislation, the 1920 Aliens Order and the 1925 Special Restriction Order, were 'enacted to check any further influx of "coloured" people'64 but also to discover whether those registered colonial subjects were, in fact, 'deserving' of this status. Such was the agitation by the Depression that many black seamen 'of undisputed British nationality'65 found that there was dispute over their right to live and work in Britain. Fryer's account of Cardiff suggests that all blacks were classed as aliens unless they could prove otherwise and it was only the work of the League of Coloured Peoples in 1935 which remedied this.66 The background to this institutional form of racism was the nature of employment in these years, both in the wider context and more particularly in the shipping industry. The establishment of a National Marine Board after 1918, which worked in conjunction with the union to control the employment of labour, effectively shackled the NUS to the shipowners. Certainly, it was the policy of Wilson and his officials to cede the demands of the owners for wage reductions in times of announced depression in the trade. Arguing that it was better to concede and retain union organization than to oppose and face all-out assault from the owners and a return to the anarchic hire-and-fire period before the establishment of the union, Wilson justified the policy of joint regulation which, as Lindop says, was based 'not on the desire of a majority of men in the industry for security of labour, but on the willingness of the employers to use a formerly respected trade union leadership to hold down the workforce and divide resistance'.67 Given the volatile nature of trade in the 1920s and the constant signing on and off for every trip, it is not surprising that the labour force felt itself somewhat helpless in the face of

14

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pressure from both employers and from the economy at large. Hard-won gains on the question of conditions and pay were lost during the 1920s™ and thus the position of foreign and coloured seamen could be identified as proof of worsening circumstances for those seeking some scapegoat explanation. The pattern of engagement also afforded similar 'evidence'. For a considerable time, the NUS had fought the practice known as 'crimping' bribery by boarding-house masters to ships' officers to take on a particular crew to the mutual advantage of both parties. This system had been prevalent in the employment of all seamen in the nineteenth century but had been brought under control, so it was claimed, by the formation of the union, which strictly opposed this practice. However, in spite of attempts at regulating employment, as outlined above, it was believed that crimping was still common in the 1920s and 30s. In particular it was seen as prevalent with keepers of lodging houses for aliens and 'foreigners' in general. The corrupt element in this system of employment was opposed strenuously by the union throughout the years and, postFirst World War, attacks on aliens could focus on the issue of crimping as a method of unfair competition by foreign seamen. There were sufficient cases to create publicity and to give some credence to the claim that the practice particularly involved aliens. Again, the language of the attacks was often couched in racist terms but had an air of legitimacy in its objective. As the union journal put it, It is no use men trying to persuade us that the question of colour does not enter into national consideration; it does and very seriously. We had growing up in our midst a population, not of young Arabs, but of half-castes, which is undesirable in the extreme, and no prating of goodwill towards men of colour will alter this fact. . . . We of this Union killed the white crimp, and we are not going to stand by idly and see a coloured crimp take his place.69 The other dimension of competition from foreign seamen, the lowering of wages, was also made more significant in the light of the wage reductions of the 1920s. In the pre-war campaigns against Asian seamen, the union claims that they could live on a grain of rice a day were not total exaggeration. It was the case that Chinese engaged outside British ports were paid substantially less than those taken on in Britain and it was also accepted that the daily food allowance was twice as much for British seamen (l/6d per day) than for Asiatics (8d or 9d).7() In March 1908, the House of Commons had its attention drawn to the exploitation of this economic position. Ah Sam of Cardiff advertising Chinese Crews in London papers, presumably without licence, says 'You only require about two more hands [Chinese] than Europeans, but the difference in costs, not only in wages is balanced by the cheaper scale of provisions the crew demands.' 71

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15

Thus, it seems apparent that some genuine undercutting took place and the legacy of this situation was constant fear of similar threats in the difficult times of the 1920s and 30s. Many of these issues were drawn together in a further campaign, this time directed against 'Arab' seamen, in 1929-30, which culminated in so-called race riots, particularly one incident in South Shields. The South Shields disturbances had a background not only of racial conflict but also of political tensions. The Minority Movement was active in South Shields in 1930, campaigning against the reactionary position, it was felt, of the NUS. 72 In particular, they challenged the use of the PC5, a form which seamen required to be engaged on any ship in a British port. PC5s were only issued to fully paid union members; those who had been unemployed and not kept up their union dues were excluded. The Minority Movement was also firmly against the proposed introduction of a rota system for the employment of 'Arabs', a scheme devised and launched in the summer of 1930. David Byrne's account of the 'Arab riot' makes many of the significant points about the incident.73 He explains the background in terms of the impact of the Depression and the subsequent unemployment. The political challenge of the Minority Movement to NUS officials and their co-operation with shipping owners, particularly the struggle over signing-on, is noted.74 The events of the disturbance are relatively straightforward. On 2 August, the Linkmoor paid off at South Shields and, when the crew signed on again for the next voyage, the Arab firemen refused to obtain a PC5 or to go on the rota. The local Shipping Federation and NUS officials tried to engage white crewmen and a clash between the Minority Movement pickets and some white seamen attempting to sign on led to a police charge upon the crowd. Some 20 Arabs were arrested on various charges, such as riotous assembly, assault and wounding and six white men, all connected with the Minority Movement, were also arrested on similar charges, but were also faced with alleged offences of inciting to riot. Virtually all the charges were found proven at the trial at Durham Assizes in November and the vast majority of Arabs were deported. What is perhaps underplayed in Byrne's article is the degree of opposition within the official union towards Arab seamen. From 1929 onwards, minutes of union meetings and the paper, The Seaman, illustrate a concerted attack upon their employment and also display a much broader racial antipathy, as the quote above has indicated. The campaign involved deputations to the Board of Trade and to the Home Office, conferences with shipowners and questions in the House of Commons by MPs sympathetic to the grievances which the union had and also supportive of its racialist stance. Although there were assurances that this hostility was not directed at the 'black British', allegations that places of birth were being falsified were raised specifically against the 'Arabs'. As Byrne has shown, there were attempts to weed out 'aliens' who were not registered as such but

16

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also attempts to discredit those claiming British colonial status. In South Shields, Somalis (who were part of the identified 'Arab' group) were British protected persons, but increasingly were incorrectly treated as 'aliens'. Arabs were British subjects if they were born in Aden and disputes arose about the legality of many claiming Adenese birth and thus protected status.75 Without any real evidence, the union began to claim that there was a large-scale conspiracy to smuggle in aliens. An organization, unspecified, based in Marseilles, shipped these men to quieter ports on the Tyne and the Bristol Channel, where it was easier to get them ashore. There was then forgery of papers, bribery of ships' officers and conspiracy by boarding-house keepers to find work for these aliens and deprive British men of a living. There was some evidence to show that some men from overseas were not registered as aliens nor did they have rights to claim British nationality but claims put forward by the union seemed to involve exaggeration and an element of the 'hidden hand' of conspiracy in their approach. In addition, despite the assurances that there was no quarrel with the British coloured men, the wider tone of the campaign was overtly racist. The journal described 'half-castes' as 'a serious menace to the social life of this country' and could react strongly to any accusation of racism. When J. Muir Smith, the defence counsel in the 'riot' trial, accused the NUS of inciting racial hatred and called The Seaman a 'dirty green rag', the journal's regular columnists, 'Our Man At The Wheel', queried the epithet 'dirty'. I am sure the paper leaves the printer in a state of verdant greenness, which can only be compared with the leaves of the trees and the hedgerows. Therefore one can only imagine that the copy Mr Muir Smith had in mind was one that had passed through the hands of some of his dusky clients.78 Such language made no distinction of citizenship or origin. The deputation to the Home Secretary on the Arab 'question' was to protest about 'Coloured Labour (Alien and British)'79 and a resolution to the TUC, discussed at the union meeting in July 1930, wanted 'remedial action' by the government against the 'continued employment of Aliens and undesirable coloured labour',80 although the actual debate concentrated on the employment of Arabs and Somalis. Thus, it seems unwise to accept at face value the union claims at its lack of racism. The rather ridiculous attempts at disproving its bias, such as the great splash of publicity surrounding the funeral of a Spanish member of the union at South Shields, where the NUS paid out benefit, provided wreaths, etc.82 contrast so markedly with the racist coverage of various reports on the 'colour problem'. Headlines such as 'Menace of Mixed Unions' and 'White Wives Vain Regret'83 give some idea of the journal's preoccupations, although it may also have reflected the contemporary views of many sections of society.84

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Here, of course, studies like that of Neil Evans tell us far more about the nature of contemporary responses and such local' studies are crucial in the attempt to reconstruct just what those responses were. As things stand, we have to rely on the generalized approach of existing literature. Whilst Byrne's work on South Shields reveals a much more complex view of the 1930 'riot', it does not adequately explain the nature of relations between Arab and white society. His statement that the 'black population has been absorbed into the poor working-class population as a whole'85 may not have applied to the inter-war period. His examination of the local press in the period leading up to the riot suggests some racial tension and further detailed inspection of newspapers suggests that the integration was by no means complete. There were a good number of hostile letters to the editor - T say Britishers can work better than an Arab anytime, and it is about time they were all sent back where they came from'86 - and reports of various incidents of some significance. The local council refused to transfer a boarding-house licence from one Arab to another and quoted TB statistics as part of the argument against the transfer.87 Reports often linked unemployment statistics and the number of Arabs employed as part of an obvious pattern. Thus, it was claimed that 52 per cent of firemen in the weekly coastal boats sailing out of north-east ports were Arabs and that there were 3,000 unemployed British seamen on the Tyne Coast.88 The conclusion was an obvious one and did not need stating to make the point! These hostile attitudes need to be balanced with the obvious support and acceptance of the Arab presence but a more thorough and considered study would allow a more accurate analysis, such as that which Evans' work on Cardiff allows. Similarly, a consideration of union policy should include rank and file attitudes wherever possible and reflect local as well as national policy and expression. What is clear is that the expressions of racial hostility were closely tied to questions of employment and of political perspective. Without that background, it is difficult to explain their particular emergence and the nature of the expressed hostility. Mixed with the vague xenophobia of the time were specific dimensions of institutional racism and of scapegoating, but within a particular set of social, economic and political circumstances. Ill Concentration in this final section will be upon responses to certain categories of European workers immediately following the end of the Second World War. Whilst this in itself makes a self-contained study, it can be seen as one particular attempt to solve problems of perceived labour shortages during the hostilities and also in the years after 1945. Indeed, much of the significance of the study is lost without such a context. There were many attempts at meeting perceived labour shortages during these years, first, during the emergency requirements of wartime and second, in the post-war reconstruction. Marika Sherwood's

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study in this volume on the employment of British Honduran forestry workers is an excellent and informative work on one particular response to the former. Many others need to be recorded and analysed in order to create a valid perspective for viewing any particular episode. This is not a plea for a 'total' history, in the empirical sense, but a recognition of the multi-faceted nature of labour recruitment and responses during these years. The comments below on Polish and other East European Volunteer Workers offer little more than a preliminary attempt at analysis. Many sources are still underworked and the broader canvas has only a few completed details. The situation of war created a number of labour shortages and there were a series of attempts to resolve these. There was, initially, some 'slack in the economy', with unemployment in 1939 over two million, according to Cairncross.89 By 1940, this figure had been halved as the 'phoney war' ended. Some of the attempts at discovering new sources of labour are well known. The greater involvement of female labour and the conscription of males, as in the 'Bevin Boys' scheme of 1944 were symptomatic of the government's efforts to fill vital gaps within the wartime labour force. Recruitment from abroad, as in the case of the British Hondurans for forestry work (along with Australians, Canadians and New Zealanders), also took place. West Indians and Indians were also recruited for military and non-military roles.90 There were also various recruitment programmes in Ireland and increasing use of prisoners of war, particularly in agricultural labouring tasks. As will be seen, some of the response towards this kind of employment heralded post-war objections to Poles and EVWs (European Volunteer Workers). With the cessation of hostilities and the attempted return to normalcy, particular labour shortages became increasingly apparent. The Labour government, committed to a policy of nationalizing and continuing, to some extent, the wartime controls over labour, tried various ways of tackling the localized shortfalls. There were again specific recruiting campaigns in Southern Ireland and, in the iron foundry industry, in Italy, where after long negotiations between the Ministry of Labour, employers and unions, agreement was reached formally in February 1947 for the employment of both skilled and unskilled workers.91 Mark Duffield, in his essay in this volume on Indian workers in the industry, draws attention to the labour shortages post-1945 and to the implications of this particular recruitment package. There were, however, other potential sources of labour for the British market. One was the Polish Resettlement Corps, members of the Polish Free Army based in Britain during the war and now, mainly for political reasons, unable to return home. The second major source was the EVWs, groups and individuals from, in the main, Eastern Europe, displaced by the fighting and now in temporary camps in the West.92 Very little attention has been paid to these elements of Britain's post-war labour force. Undoubtedly, concern has been with the coming of the Empire Windrush in 1948, with its West Indian passengers and the

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origins of a contemporary 'problem'. Yet, numerically, these white 'foreigners' were far more significant. Tannahill estimates that the Polish Resettlement Corps comprised some 100,000 ex-servicemen, plus their dependants, many of whom found full-time employment in Britain in the immediate post-war years. Some 85,000 EVWs were brought over on organized schemes of temporary work placement and other temporary short-term contracts may have involved a further 17,000 Europeans. What is less clear is the length of stay for these temporary workers.93 Even taking this into account, the figures for non-white immigration in the immediate post-war period are eclipsed by the European settlement: as a 1955 report concluded,' . . . the British people have been subjected to an influx of foreigners on a scale much greater than they had previously experienced . . . the West Indian migration constitutes only a small proportion of this influx'.94 Even the standard work of Tannahill is unhelpful when it comes to the analysis of labour responses to this new element within the workforce. Referring to various instances of opposition to the employment of Poles and EVWs, particularly in the coalmining, engineering and agricultural areas, the author explains this as a vague general tendency. In most industries there was, no doubt, a background of suspicion of the foreign worker, arising partly from ignorance and partly from the old fear of unemployment. Foreign workers are, even now, sometimes told to 'go home and stop taking our jobs away from us'. There is a vague feeling that there is only a fixed quantity of money and goods to be shared, and anything given to the foreigner means less for the British.95 This somewhat patronizing analysis of opposition takes no account of the particular circumstances of the post-war economy, of the complex attitudes towards these newcomers and suggests a rather naive view of industrial relations in general. This is revealed in his work when he discusses the relative lack of opposition to the employment of EVWs in the textile industry. In a disturbingly 'neutral' fashion, he suggests that 'it is pleasant to note the equitable way in which the textile redundancy agreements were operating during the recession of 1952'.% Such insensitivity of labour problems, which, admittedly, were not the major concern of the study, indicate the need for more detailed work on this particular dimension. In the transition to a peacetime economy, the unions were concerned with protecting jobs, defending the conditions of their members and maintaining the political ideology which had helped produce the 1945 Labour government. Foreign workers seemed to threaten all of these concerns to a greater or lesser degree. On the matter of unemployment, unions and government often appeared to be concerned with different dimensions of the question. In an exchange of correspondence in 1947/8, Ben Gardiner, the General Secretary of the Amalgamated Engineering Union, noted that 3,029 of his members were out of work ,97 whilst in reply George Isaacs, the Minister of Labour, claimed 16,269 vacancies for skilled engineers,98 thus debating the issue of a general shortage of labour

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in the industry. Post-war dislocation was still a major problem, as the apparent distance between these two positions indicates, and any national attempt to fill perceived vacancies with foreign workers, which appeared to overlook local situations, was therefore likely to produce concerted opposition. This should not be seen merely as anachronistic xenophobia, as Tannahill seems to imply, but a rational response, given shop-floor perception of unemployment. The possibility of non-union foreigners being employed below union rates, or in inferior working conditions, was justified by particular incidents brought to the attention of various union executives and local offices of the Ministry of Labour. At the same time, unions were concerned with a series of negotiations on work and conditions and the 'intrusion' of foreign workers was simply one dimension of this situation. For example, the AUFW, at the same time as it was responding to suggestions about the employment of Italian workers, was negotiating with the employers agreements about the introduction of 'green' labour and upgrading - a whole package of change to improve conditions and to aid the supply of labour to the industry. In some cases, the agreements made considerable concessions to the employers and it is within this economic framework that particular views about the employment of foreigners need to be viewed. There were also political tensions, many based on views about the Poles' 'fascist' tendencies. These had been well-publicized incidents of anti-Semitism amongst the Polish Armed Forces in Scotland during the war" and sometimes vehement anti-Soviet views expressed brought accusations of fascist tendencies from members of the labour movement in the immediate post-war years.100 To meet these fears, the employment of Poles and EVWs was done by agreement between the Ministry of Labour and the unions concerned. Most agreements, particularly those concerned with Poles who were likely to become permanent workers and perhaps naturalized subjects, required full union rates of pay, union membership and recognition that foreigners would only be employed in the absence of suitable British labour. These agreements, negotiated at national level, were aimed at preventing any problems in the placement of this new workforce. However, at local level, there were disagreements and disputes, often caused by the insensitivity of government officials. They failed to consult local union branches or to check sufficiently that the nationally-agreed conditions were being carried out. Many local confrontations over apparently 'racial' objections, as headlined in newspaper reporting, were, in fact, part and parcel of a broader industrial relations framework. A brief study of two unions and the methods of dealing with the 'Polish Question' gives an indication of the complex nature of both the question and the union response. The AUFW (Amalgamated Union of Foundry Workers) was part of the Confederation of Shipbuilding and Engineering Unions, which was prominent in the objections to the employment of Polish labour. The

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foundry workers had already had to contest with the employment of prisoners of war, with Belgian moulders and with the negotiation for Italian workers to be brought over.101 Opposition to the use of Poles and EVWs was part of a concerted campaign by the union to protect its members still in the forces and to preserve job opportunities in an industry where conditions were not attractive, pay was lower than in engineering and where young workers were not entering the trade.102 Although not as total in its opposition as the AEU, which attracted much press and parliamentary concern over its stance, the AUFW initially resisted the attempts to negotiate agreement over Poles and EVWs, mainly on the basis of protecting existing jobs and conditions for its members. There was also a degree of ani-Polish feeling, as the general secretary's comments in February 1947 indicated. Our objection to the Poles is that they are a reactionary corps of people who refuse to face responsibility in their own country. They will become not a temporary labour force but a permanent labour force that will be a reactionary element in the country if allowed to settle down. Employers are trying to put it across locally, but no permission has been given to employ Poles in any foundry in the country.103 Pressure to change this line came from government departments, employers, organizations like the British-Polish Society and from rank and file union members. Correspondence between branches and the Executive Committee of the AUFW show the workers' responses to the employment of Poles and EVWs. Many record their hostility and resistance to employers' effort to introduce them into the foundries. Given the union's initial stance, what is more remarkable is the way in which branches and individual members continually questioned the policy of opposition and apparently defied the official line.104 The Chapeltown branch had a clear policy of acceptance and there was a response in May 1947 in the EC minutes which reinforced the fact that official policy was against acceptance but noted that, since there appeared to be no objections by the men, 'we could not see any useful purpose being served by debarring them from employment in the foundry concerned'.105 By October, Gardner had to explain that the Executive position had been undermined. It was true that certain members were defying the E.C. and had accepted Poles to do their 'donkey' work. The E.C. were being forced into a position where they must accept Poles; they could not see how it could be avoided Up to the moment the E.C. had remained against them, being under an obligation to have further consultation with the other foundry unions, which would take place in the near future.106 Already, the union's ambivalent position was clear. At the EC meeting in August 1947, two items provide a sharp contrast. The one was a

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reaffirmation of the decision to reject Polish labour. The other was a note of a cheque for 10/6d for Associate Membership of the British-Polish Society.107 By the end of the year, pressure from the grass roots, as well as from external organizations, was such that the union was 'prepared to accept the inevitable'10* on the employment of Poles, although no formal agreement with the Ministry of Labour had yet been made. Policy had been changed, in the main, through the attitudes and actions of union members in the branches. The institutional union history gives no clues to this pressure and once again highlights the need for a wider social history of the labour movement. The same might be said of the mining union responses. Many Poles and EVWs were directed into the mining industry, in particular to the Scottish coalfields. By the end of 1949, the Scottish area employed over a thousand Poles and 300 EVWs and nearly half of these were assigned to pits in Fife.109 The initial responses from Scottish miners were similar to the general attitude outlined above and could be summed up by the terms of a motion to the Scottish NUM conference in 1947: That Conference fully rejects the proposals of the Government to employ Polish nationals and displaced persons in the coal-mining industry, being of the opinion that sufficient manpower could be found for the industry by the speeding up of demobilisation and the return of a large percentage of the personnel of the Armed Forces, many of whom are ex-miners.110 Fears were expressed about the taking of jobs from servicemen still to be demobbed, of foreign workers occupying NCB houses in competition with Scottish miners. The NUM nationally was nervous about union control in the newly nationalized industry and foreign workers could be perceived as a threat to that control. There were the usual cultural objections and, in Fife in particular, which had a strong left political culture,111 dislike of what was felt to be a reactionary Polish ideology, influenced by recent experience of the Free Army in Scotland. At an EC of the Scottish District, in July 1945, a resolution from Carberry branch was agreed unanimously. It sought to protest: . . . against the existence of a Polish Army in Scotland, whose only function now that Poland has been liberated would seem to be that of an Anti-Soviet Force, is naturally reinforcing Soviet suspicions of British foreign policy and has the tendency of involving the British people in another world war. We demand that they be sent back to Poland immediately.112 There was also unease about language difficulties, and of the subsequent dangers of working underground, points made in the campaigns against the employment of Lithuanians in Scottish pits before the First World War.113 Nationally, negotiations about acceptance of the permanent employment of Poles and EVWs continued throught 1946 and, in January

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1947, the NUM agreed, subject to certain conditions. All six delegates from Scotland on the National Executive voted against the decision to allow Poles and EVWs. 'l4 The specific conditions were that local branches had the right to veto the employment at any pit, Poles must join the union and, in the event of redundancies, Polish workers would be the first to be laid off. The implementation of this policy was not without some problems. There were attempts by management to introduce Poles without consultation as, for example, at the Devon pit. Here, once consultation had been arranged, the union executive stressed that the branch should not reject the Poles unless it could be shown that their employment was 'detrimental to the district'. As Abe Moffat, the Scottish miners' leader put it, 'Political objections would not be accepted'.115 Most of the instances of opposition were resolved quickly and involved basic communication lapses. Queries over hostel and housing allocation were also frequent initially but, given that accommodation was a particularly sensitive issue in the area, disputes were bound to occur and the number of incidents was remarkably small. In fact, when the tensions of the immediate post-war period are taken into account, the speed with which this foreign labour force appears to have been accepted is worthy of some comment. Whilst there is still a dearth of local studies which could justify this impression, what evidence that has been made available seems to reinforce such a view. Few union branches were overtly opposed, after initial hostility, to the employment of Poles and many more responded positively once the foreigners had 'proved' themselves. Thus, in July 1949, Polkemmet branch protested at the action of the local NCB Labour Relations Officer in trying to sack some Poles and replace them with some Scottish miners being transferred from Shotts. The local branch said this was unnecessary, detrimental to the smooth working of the colliery and requested the Executive to prevent the Poles' dimissal. The Executive agreed to intervene and to stop this action.116 The Scottish section of the NUM was, like the AUFW, affiliated to the British-Polish Society117 and was addressed by speakers from the organization.118 The union ordered copies of the monthly magazine, 'New Poland', for its executive members and allowed it to be on sale at annual conferences. '19 The hierarchy of the Scottish union appear to have gone to some lengths to inform its members of Polish culture and of the problem of adaptation to life in Britain in order to make the process a smoother and more acceptable one. The extent of the acceptance by local communities is less certain, although, as outlined above, workplace relations seemed relatively quiescent. More research is needed to make any valid conclusions - a peremptory sweep of newspaper reporting suggests both hostility and acceptance. There was resentment in Cowdenbeath at the expulsion of Scottish industrial workers from an NCB hostel to make way for displaced persons coming into the local pits. As one hostel occupant put it:

24

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

As British workers, we are not prepared to accept anything in the way of accommodation to make way for men who probably fought against us during the war. Most of us are ex-Service men and are engaged on essential work.120 On the other hand, at the Town Hall dance in Kinross, the 'pin up' boys' selection included five civilians and five Polish soldiers.121 Clearly there were both positive and negative stereotypes, according to particular circumstances. Negative attitudes arose from the wartime experiences, from the threat to jobs and accommodation and from cultural clashes. It does appear that these were not, however, fixed views. The commitment of many of the foreign workers to the union (and its responses to them) and to the culture of the local communities helped to ease the process of resettlement, adaptation and acceptance. It is worth restating that, even for this post-war period, the argument has not been that labour responses were not racist. By any reasonable definition, a policy of Toles out first' is racist. What seems more significant, historically and sociologically, is an analysis of how and why that racism was articulated and employed and how it might be challenged. A comparative study such as this also indicates the degrees of hostility towards different minority groups. The institutional barriers created to deal with black seamen in the inter-war period and with the British Honduran forestry workers were clearly more significant than the attitudes displayed towards white Europeans during the same period. Thus, the degree of toleration eventually addressed to European volunteer workers in the immediate post-war period should not be seen as indicating a similar response towards New Commonwealth migrants, settling in Britain at the same time. As an illustration of this, Peter Fryer has drawn attention to the case of Amelia King, third-generation black British, who was rejected from service with the Women's Land Army in 1943 because of objections to her colour.122 After 1945, an exchange of correspondence between Alfred Dann, secretary of the National Union of Agricultural Workers, and George Isaacs, Minister of Labour, made it quite clear that responses to blacks were to be fundamentally different. There were rumours of a scheme to bring in one hundred agricultural workers from St. Helena. Dann's attitude was quite blunt and to the point. You will appreciate that our people have already had to put up with a great deal, we have had C.O.s, P.O.W.s, Poles and E.V.W.s thrust upon us, and if coloured labour was imported, it would prove to be the last straw.123 It may be that this encapsulates a particular set of values about a hierarchy of 'races', one which was to be made abundantly clear in post-war Britain. A month or so earlier, in another letter to Isaacs, these views were even more clearly articulated by Dann. 'We appreciate, of course, that these people are human beings, but it would seem evident

RACE RELATIONS OR INDUSTRIAL RELATIONS?

25

that to bring coloured labour into the countryside would be a most unwise and unfortunate act.'124 How accurate Dann's remarks were in terms of predicting, in particular, labour responses to New Commonwealth immigrants is still largely an educated guess. What is needed is an attempt to draw together the range of case studies available, to evaluate them and, if necessary, to research other areas. Current analysis still moves rather too quickly from the specific to the general, without a sense of other possible explanations and situations. What has been illustrated in these brief guides to some case studies of labour responses in these years between 1880 and 1950 is the complexity of attitudes. It has been suggested that differing responses can be related to a series of circumstances - social, economic and political and that the framework for understanding attitudes must encompass all those dimensions, not merely that of'race'. If we are to rethink the approach to this historical period, and I would suggest this is crucial if we are to say more precisely what the legacy of 'Empire' has been in British society, then we need a more thoughtful set of questions about labour attitudes to 'race' but also more empirical detail. If this article has tended towards the latter rather than the former, then it is because is seems more important at this time to provide the evidence to refute existing generalizations. Thus, this study is still in its infancy. Hopefully, the techniques of social history will allow the kind of revisionism which reflects more accurately the feeling and attitudes of all areas of the labour movement, warts and all, and allows a more reflective and analytical appreciation of the views articulated. KENNETH LUNN

Portsmouth Polytechnic

NOTES I would like to aknowledge the assistance of the Nuffield Foundation in providing resources for some of the research involved in the construction of this article. 1. Stephen Castles and Godula Kosack, Immigrant Workers and Class Structure in Western Europe (London, 1973). 2. Robert Miles, Racism and Migrant Labour (London, 1982). 3. See James Walvin, Passage to Britain: Immigration in British History and Politics (London, 1984); Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London, 1984). 4. The most obvious examples here are John A. Garrard, The English and Immigration (London, 1971), Bernard Gainer, The Alien Invasion (London, 1972) and Colin Holmes, Anti-Semitism in British Society, 1876-1939 (London, 1979). 5. This is argued strongly in Bill Williams, T h e beginnings of Jewish Trade Unionism in Manchester, 1889-189F and Joe Buckman, 'Alien Working-Class Response; The Leeds Jewish Tailors, 1880—1914\ both in Kenneth Lunn (éd.), Hosts, Immigrants and Minorities (Folkestone, 1980). See also Joseph Buckman, Immigrants and Class Struggle: The Jewish Immigrant in Leeds, 1880-1914 (Manchester, 1983).

26

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

6. See, for example, the arguments in Annie Phizacklea and Robert Miles, Labour and Racism (London, 1980). 7. See Williams, op. cit, p.298. 8. See the arguments presented by Alan Lee 'Aspects of the Working-Class Response to the Jews in Britain, 1880-1914', in Lunn (éd.), op. cit. 9. William J. Fishman, East End Jewish Radicals 1875-1914 (London, 1975). 10. Williams makes the interesting remark (p.295) that, in the 'sweated' trades, it was the Jewish workers who were best unionized. Schmiechen's work on the London trades would seem to confirm this - see J.A. Schmiechen, 'Sweated industries and sweated labour; a study of industrial disorganization and worker attitudes in the London clothing trades, 1867-1909', unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Illinois, 1975, pp. 147-62 and the subsequent book, Sweated Labour and Sweated Industries (London, 1984). 11. Williams, op. cit., p.298. 12. See, for example, ibid., pp.273, 284. 13. See, op. cit., p.110. 14. Buckman, Immigrants. 15. Garrard, op. cit., p. 165. 16. Alan Fox, A History of the National Union of Boot and Shoe Operatives; 1874-1957 (Oxford, 1958). 17. See ibid., pp.95-7, 144, 245. 18. Ibid., p.144. 19. Ibid., p.151. 20. R. Gurnham, A History of the Trade Union Movement in the Hosiery and Knitwear Industry (Leicester, 1976), pp.63-4. 21. See E.H. Hunt, British Labour History 1815-1914 (London, 1981), p.21. 22. Ibid., pp.22-3. 23. Ibid., p.25. 24. Liverpool features centrally in the work of Jim May on the Chinese. See 'The British Working Class and the Chinese', unpublished MA thesis, University of Warwick, 1973; 'The Chinese in Britain, 1860-1914' in Colin Holmes (éd.), Immigrants and Minorities in British Society (London, 1978). For an introduction to the pre-war black community, see Roy May and Robin Cohen, 'The Interaction between Race and Colonialism: A Case Study of the Liverpool Race Riots of 1919', Race and Class, Vol.16, No.2 (October 1974), pp. 111-26. See also A.H. Richmond, Colour Prejudice in Britain: A Study of West Indian Workers in Liverpool, 1941-1951 (Westport, CT., 1971) and I. Law and J. Henfroy, A History of Race and Racism in Liverpool 1600-1950 (Liverpool, 1981). 25. See Miles, op. cit., pp. 121-45. 26. I am thinking here of the kind of work being undertaken by a number of groups concerned with the immigrant experience, as displayed in a recent exhibition (February 1985), 'Exploring Living Memory; Life History Projects in London, 1985', at the Royal Festival Hall, London. 27. Lee, op. cit. See also J.J. Bennett, 'East End Newspaper Opinion and Jewish Immigration, 1885-1905', unpublished M.Phil, thesis, University of Sheffield, 1979. 28. Jerry White, Rothschild Buildings (London, 1980). 29. See, for example, his study, 'The Lanarkshire Lithuanians: the origins and growth of the Lithuanian Community in Industrial Scotland', in Billy Kay (éd.), Odyssey: Voices from Scotland's Recent Past (Edinburgh, 1980) and 'Political Developments in the Lithuanian Community in Scotland, c. 1890-1923' in John Slatter (éd.), From the Other Shore: Russian Political Emigrants in Britain, 1880-1917 (London, 1984). 30. The German immigrant community is numerically important but little work appears to have been done on the nineteenth and twentieth centuries with the exception of 1930s refugees. Herman Kellenbenz, 'German Immigrants in England', in Holmes (éd.), op. cit., pp.63-80, deals only with the period up to the mid-nineteenth century. Gregory Anderson, 'German Clerks in England, 1870-1914: Another Aspect of the Great Depression Debate', in Lunn (éd.), op. cit., pp.201-21, gives some indication of

RACE RELATIONS OR INDUSTRIAL RELATIONS?

27

the German presence in this period. 31. See evidence given before Royal Commission on Alien Immigration, Minutes of Evidence, Vol.11, Cd. 1742(1903), 01762-1816, 9470-9544. 32. I am grateful to Howard Bloch, Local Studies Librarian, London Borough of Newham, for information relating to the Lithuanian community in Silvertown. Further details can be found in the pack 'People Who Moved to Newham' (London, 1985) prepared by the borough authority. 33. See my article below in this volume. 34. See evidence given before Select Committee on Emigration and Immigration (Foreigners), 311(1889), 03262-3. 35. See May, op. cit. 36. Robin Palmer, 'The Italians: Patterns of Migration to London', in J.L. Watson (éd.), Between Two Cultures: Migrants and Minorities in Britain (Oxford, 1977), pp.242-68. 37. W.H. Wilkins, The Alien Invasion (London, 1892), pp.54-65. 38. 'Italians in Scozzia: The Story of the Scots Italians', in Billy Kay (éd.), Odyssey: Voices from Scotland's Recent Past: The Second Collection (Edinburgh, 1982). 39. Hywel Francis and David Smith, The Fed (London, 1980), p. 13. 40. See, for example, May and Cohen, op. cit., Fryer, op. cit., pp.298-316 and the work of Jenkinson in this volume. 41. See Fryer, op. cit., pp.321-55, Barbara Bush, 'Blacks in Britain: The 1930s', History Today, 31 (Sept. 1981), pp.46-7. 42. Bush, op. cit., p.46. 43. Fryer, op. cit., p.356. 44. See, for example, Bush, op. cit., p.46. 45. I hope to publish a more detailed survey of the National Union of Seamen's attitudes shortly: these remarks below are a summary of a vast amount of evidence available in the union records housed in the Univesity of Warwick. 46. F.J. Lindop, 'A History of Seamen's Trade Unionism to 1929', unpublished M.Phil, thesis, University of London, 1972. 47. Ibid., pp.21- . 48. Ibid., pp.96-7. 49. Ibid., p.71. 50. Ibid., p. 129. 51. Ibid., p.21. 52. Ibid., pp. 129-30. 53. Ibid., pp. 130-31. 54. Western Mail, 10 Feb. 1903, held in MSS 175/10/1 (NUS press cuttings), Modern Records Centre, University of Warwick. 55. South Wales Daily News, 18 Feb. 1903, in ibid. 56. South Wales Echo, 2 Feb. 1903, in ibid. 57. Jim May's claim that there was 'no opposition' to the Lascars (see May, op. cit., p. 122) does not seem sustainable in a closer examination of the union position. Havelock Wilson called them a 'very undesirable class of aliens' (South Wales Daily News, 14 Feb. 1903). 58. Reynolds' News, 25 Jan. 1903, in MSS 175/10/1. 59. C. Houston, shipowner and Tory MP for Toxteth, in Daily Chronicle, 15 May 1911, cited in 'Chinese Invasion of Great Britain', NUS pamphlet published in 1913, MSS 175/3/14/2. 60. See 'Chinese Invasion', op. cit. For a broader and more balanced view of attitudes in Britain towards the Chinese in this period, see May, op. cit., pp. 111-24. 61. Lindop, op. cit., p. 177. 62. Ibid., p.178. 63. Quoted in 'Chinese Invasion', op. cit. 64. Bush, op. cit., p.46. 65. Ibid. 66. See Fryer, op. cit., pp.356-8. See also Evans' essay in this volume. 67. Lindop, op. cit., p.213. 2

28 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92.

93. 94. 95. 96. 97. 98. 99. 100. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105. 106. 107. 108.

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN For details, see ibid., pp.213-14. The Seaman, 1 May 1930. See 'Chinese Invasion', op. cit. Quoted in ibid. Some details of the MM position and strategy can be found in George Hardy, Those Stormy Years (1956). David Byrne, 'The 1930 "Arab riot" in South Shields: a race riot that never was', Race and Class, Vol.XVIII, No.3 (Winter 1977), pp.261-77. See also Neil Evans' focus on the stuggle over the PC5. See Byrne, op. cit., pp.264-5 for details. See 'Scandal of Traffic in Arab Seamen', The Seaman, 12 March 1930. The Seaman, 1 Jan. 1930. Ibid., 21 May 1930. See minutes of General Management Committee, NUS, 7 Dec. 1929, MSS 175/1/3/1. Ibid., 7 June 1930. See Report of Proceedings, TUC, 62nd Annual Conference, Nottingham, Sept. 1930, p.413. The resolution, debated just before the close of the conference, was carried. See The Seaman, 12 Feb. 1930. Ibid., 2 July 1930. See Walvin, op. cit., pp.81-2 on contemporary preoccupations and Neil Evans' study in this volume. Byrne, op. cit., p.261. 'Fair Play', in Shields Daily Gazette, 2 May 1930. See report in ibid., 9 Jan. 1930. Ibid., 16 April 1930. Alec Cairncross, 'The post-war years 1945-77', in R. Floud and D. McCloskey (eds.), The Economic History of Britain Since 1700: Vol.2: 1860 to the 1970s (Cambridge, 1981), p.372. See Walvin, op. cit., pp.97-9, Fryer, op. cit., pp.362-3. Details of these negotiations can be found in LAB 26/199 (PRO). The major works on Polish settlers are J. Zubrzycki, Polish Immigrants in Britain (The Hague, 1956) and Sheila Patterson, Immigrants in Industry (London, 1968). See also the bibliography in Patterson, 'The Poles: An Exile Community in Britain', in Watson (éd.), op. cit., p.241. On EVWs, The major work remains J.A. Tannahill, European Volunteer Workers in Britain (Manchester, 1956). See Tannahill, op. cit., pp.4-6. C. Senior and D. Manley, A Report on Jamaican Migration to Great Britain (Government of Jamaica, 1955), quoted in Sheila Patterson, Dark Strangers (Harmondsworth, 1965), p.63. Tannahill, op. cit., pp.63-4. Ibid., p.64. Gardner to Isaacs, 23 Dec. 1947, LAB 43/9 (PRO). Isaacs to Gardner, 9 Jan. 1948, in ibid. See Tom Driberg, Ruling Passions (London, 1977), pp.202-3. See Tannahill, op. cit., p.70 for one example. See report of Ministry of Labour conference 'Importation of Foreign Skilled Workers in Foundries', 27 July 1946, MSS 44/TBN 46/4 (MRC, Warwick). See arguments of union position in ibid. For further details see H.J. Fyrth and H. Collins, The Foundry Workers: A Trade Union History (Manchester, 1959). Jim Gardner, to conference of AUFW Organizers, Manchester, 4 Feb. 1947, in minutes of Executive Committee, AUFW, MSS 41/AUFW/1/2 (MRC, Warwick). A study of the exchange of correspondence during 1947 gives a clear insight into this. See details in MSS 41/AUFW/1/2. EC to Chapletown Central, 19 May 1947, MSS 41/AUFW/1/2. Report on Organizers Conference, Manchester, 2 Oct. 1947, MSS 41/AUFW/1/2. EC minutes, 19/20 Aug. 1947, MSS 41/AUFW/1/2. Jim Gardner's report, Organizers Conference, Manchester, 23 Jan. 1948, MSS

RACE RELATIONS OR INDUSTRIAL RELATIONS?

29

41/AUFW/1/3. 109. Returns on employment, etc., Recruitment and Wastage, Week ended 24 Dec. 1949, Summary of Foreign Labour, NUM - Records of Fife Area, ACC 4311, Box 206 (National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh). 110. Dysart branch, Fife, motion to conference, Rothesay, 13 June 1947, ACC 4311, Box 216. 111. See S. Macintyre, Little Moscows: Communism and Working-class Militancy in Interwar Britain (London, 1980) and, Paul Long (interview), 'Abe Moffat, the Fife Miners and the United Mine-workers of Scotland', Journal of the Scottish Labour History Society, No. 17 (1982), pp.5-18. 112. Minutes of Executive Committee, NUM, Scottish Area, 9 July 1945, Dep 227/101 (NLS). 113. See Kenneth Lunn, 'Reactions to Lithuanian and Polish Immigrants in the Lanarkshire Coalfield, 1880-1914', in Lunn (éd.), op. cit., pp.308-42. 114. See report of Abe Moffat, Scottish leader, Executive Committee minutes, 20 Jan. 1949, Dep 227/102. The minutes also include a copy of the circular, published by the NUM on 17 Jan. 1949, outlining the terms of the agreement. 115. Executive Committee minutes, 23 June 1947, Dep 258/37. 116. Ibid., 11 July 1949, Dep 258/39. 117. See ibid., 8 May 1950, Dep 258/39. 118. See ibid., 14 March 1949, Dep 258/38. 119. Ibid., 26 April 1948, Dep 258/37. 120. Cowdenbeath Advertiser, 28 Nov. 1947. 121. Kinross-shire Advertiser, 14 June 1947. 122. Fryer, op. cit., p.364. 123. Dann to Isaacs, 8 Dec. 1947, LAB 43/12. 124. Dann to Isaacs, 30 Oct. 1947, LAB 43/12.

Immigrants and Strikes: Some British Case Studies, 1870-1914 The traditional stereotype of immigrant labour in this period revolves around issues of undercutting, job displacement and strike-breaking. However, detailed case studies suggest that the stereotype needs careful qualification. By looking at East Europeans in a Cheshire salt-works, at new material on Jewish immigration and at Catholic Lithuanians in the Lanarkshire coal industry, a complex series of influences on immigrant/host relations can be shown. It suggests that local political and social culture, as well as the differences in the structure of the immigrant population, are crucial elements in determining these relationships.

Much recent discussion of the nature of strikes in Britain in the period of the fifty years or so leading up to the First World War has focused on the development, or otherwise, of working-class consciousness. It takes into account not only the emergence of 'new unionism' but also tries to encompass explanations for that development and for the apparentlyrelated rise in numbers of strikes, strikers and trade union members. 1 It has also been suggested by Cronin that the analysis of strikes should involve a broader perspective, that it should include 'the secular, and presumably structural, transformations' in that period.2 Certainly, it has been the norm within British labour history to concentrate on case studies rather than grand theory, with a few notable exceptions. However, recognizing the need for an 'aggregate approach which combines data from several industries over an extended period of time', 3 this article seeks to use some comparative case studies in order to raise questions about a generalized notion regarding immigrant labour before 1914. Whilst recognizing the often all-encompassing nature of labour history, it is still the case that certain practitioners have continued to employ the earlier compartmentalized approaches. 'Labour' and 'ethnicity' have often been separated and discussed in different journals, books, conferences and institutional departments. More specifically, in the studies of strike activity between 1870 and 1914, little or no attention has been paid to the part played by immigrants.4 Similarly, until very recently, immigration and immigrant history has either oversimplified or neglected completely labour organizations and political struggles, and almost always dealt with this dimension without reference to the broader context. It is hoped that drawing together these two areas through the

IMMIGRANTS AND STRIKES

31

focus of strike activity will offer a specific study of some value to those interested in either or both dimensions. It is in times of crisis that a society is most vulnerable to centrifugal forces inherent in it. During these times the outsider is in a particularly sensitive position if he has maintained a separate identity, if he has not become a party to the whole series of social arrangements of which a part are now in dispute, if he is not considered a full member of the society. If the crisis becomes severe enough, or if the outsider reacts to it in a manner seen as unsuitable, he may face constraints, sanctions, abuse, or even expulsion. A strike is, at least potentially, a social crisis.5 This quotation, from a study of Polish labour in the Ruhr coalfield, captures some of the implications of strikes for immigrant workers. Notably, most of the implications are negative. Both in contemporary and historiographical terms, the dominant stereotype of the immigrant worker is unfavourable or overtly hostile. As Murphy wrote of the Poles in the Ruhr, early on they had been 'suspected of being strike-breakers and of depressing wages'6 and strikes in 1889,1905 and 1912 provided the opportunity to dispel that image. When we look at the conception of immigrants in Britain in the same period, similar attitudes prevail. In many ways, the stereotype of the Irish in the earlier nineteenth century seems to have continued. Hunt, in his survey of British labour, noted: There are three ways in which immigrants were thought to reduce living standards: by taking work, by reducing wages, and by weakening trade unionism '7 Although written specifically about responses to the Irish, it could be taken as a general theme on immigration before 1914. The weakness of this analysis is, first, that it ignores conflicting aspects of Irish immigration and, second, that it deals with immigrants' as a single unified group. Both of these views can be challenged. The role of the Irish as strike-breakers has been much discussed. However, the discussion often neglects countervailing evidence. Thus, Hunt's outline mentions the miners' strike of 1844 and the example of Irish as strike-breakers in Lord Londonderry's pits during that dispute. Yet MacDermott's study of the Irish on Tyneside has cast much doubt upon the sources for this particular episode and suggested that 'the major influx of labour which brought pressure to bear on the local miners was from areas like Wales and Cornwall'. 8 In the overall discussion, Hunt works from the basic premise that the Irish were habitually associated with strike-breaking and then qualifies that view with a series of statements about traditions of Irish trade unionism, of Irish involvement in political activity and of the need to limit the view chronologically - ' . . . the main era of strike-breaking was over by I860'. 9 In one sense, Hunt's approach to the question of Irish labour, and indeed immigrant labour in general, is a valid perspective.10 It is to be expected that 'greeners' are far more likely to be used as blacklegs, or to

32

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offer themselves as strike-breakers, than those longer established in the country. But the logical progression and adaptation outlined by Hunt is not logical. It ignores a series of other factors, like religion, politics, social origins, which would affect or influence a labour consciousness. Far too often, immigrants are seen as a single amorphous group with definable ethnic characteristics. If we are able to distinguish significant distinctive strata within the native working class, why should we assume a homogeneity for immigrants? Because of this weakenss within much of the history of immigration and immigrant communities, the perspective of labour relations for the period up to 1914 has frequently been determined by the 'Irish model'. The assumption is that immigrants are, first and foremost, potential strike-breakers and that, over the years, assimilation lessens this threat. This oversimplification hides many of the social forces shaping immigrant relationships and involvement in industrial activity. Hopefully, the three case studies indicate the range of responses and suggest the need for a more subtle set of explanations of participation in labour disputes before the First World War. The first study deals with an example of strike-breaking on the 'classic' Irish model, during the strike in the Cheshire salt industry in 1868. As Brian Didsbury has shown, the strike began as a wage claim for compensations against the 1867 extension of the Factory Acts, which limited the hours of women and children. It was a widespread strike, which virtually paralysed the Winsford salt industry. After some two-and-a-half months, it is claimed that 34 of the 35 proprietors had agreed to the workers' demands. 11 The other, H.E. Falk, 'imported a large number of Germans to take the place of his men, and kept them on when the strike was over'.12 Falk's son, giving evidence twenty years later to the Select Committee on Emigration, stated that the strike was for an advance for wallers from 23 shillings to 27 shillings, and that many owners agreed to this increase. Falk senior, determined to hold out, talked to the German Consul in Liverpool and the pastor of the German church there (Falk was German-born) 13 and was told that he would be providing a service by offering employment in his works to destitute foreign labour in the city. '[He] immediately upon economic grounds saw his opportunity and imported a large number of Germans and so met the English strikers in that way completely, and filled their places with German workmen.'14 German wallers were employed at 20 shillings a week and foreign labourers taken on at 12 shillings, compared to the 16 shillings asked for by the English workers.15 Naturally enough, there was some hostility towards these German workers. 'A Salt Boiler' wrote to the local paper, proclaiming that the strike would remain solid even 'if all Germany is imported'. 16 In one incident, a scuffle resulted in a German defending himself with a knife following some remarks 'in an unfriendly spirit'. After his arrest, an angry crowd 'appeared to be inclined to execute

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33

Lynchlaw, the occurrence having had the effect of still further exasperating them against the Germans'. 17 At the trial in Knutsford, Jonas Laurenze was acquited, great provocation being the main plank of the defence.18 The use of foreign blacklegs during the strike draws attention to the more general attempt to disrupt union solidarity by bringing in outside labour. The local paper referred to the likelihood of South Staffordshire boilermakers coming north to take on certain jobs19 and Falk junior stated that those labourers who remained in work during the strike, for the lower wages, were Irish rather than English.20 What it also draws attention to is the continued deliberate use of foreign labour to hold down wages, perhaps a follow-on of what is considered to be the earlier Irish tradition. Falk readily confirmed this strategy in his evidence to the Select Committee. He made it quite clear that, for two or three years after the 1868 strike, the German workers held down wage levels. Then they began to 'conspire' with the English for a rise.21 After a boom in the first half of the 1870s, depression hit the trade and Falk's response was to cease employing English labourers and to use 'Hungarians', chiefly from Galicia.22 How they came to Britain is hard to establish accurately. It was suggested that agricultural depression in Galicia, plus the desire to escape military service, had 'pushed' them out of the Austro-Hungarian or Russian empires and that the 'pull' of the USA had brought them to Liverpool en route. There, they either sought further employment to pay the fare across the Atlantic or found themselves destitute and in the workhouse. 23 The Falks employed those who had ended up in the Liverpool workhouses. 24 Contact was made with the workhouse authorities and the Hungarian consul in Liverpool.25 Along with the employment of the 'Hungarians' came a further reduction in wages. Wallers had reached a peak of 27 shillings in 1873/4 but then this fell to 22 shillings in 1877 and 18 in 1886.26 And, from Falk junior's comments, it is evident that he saw a relationship between the employment of foreign labour and a reduction in costs. As far as he was concerned, the job of waller or labourer was unskilled and any agricultural worker could fulfil the requirements, 27 shillings being 'a most extravagant wage'.27 The 1868 strike, then, introduced a particular form of strike-breaking and then of continued wage manipulation on the basis of exploiting immigrant workers. In this particular situation, the original German employees seem to have taken a similar road to those Irish who became active trade unionists by banding together with their English colleagues. The Falks then resorted to a different group, just as employers earlier had turned to the latest Irish arrivals rather than those of the more established communities. The isolation of the 'Hungarians', geographically and in terms of language and culture, seems to have prevented them from adopting the more organized positions of sections of Irish and German workers in Britain in these years. A clear organizational

34

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strategy, involving workhouse authorities, consuls, labour agents, emigration agents and charity organizations, ensured a continual supply of this particular workforce.28 It was only through the evidence to the Select Committee on Emigration, an enquiry more directed at Jewish immigration, that details of the 'Cheshire Salt Hell'29 became more widely known. Indeed, descriptions and 'analysis' of these foreign labourers coincided with popular images of Jewish immigrants. Charges levelled against the Jews were very similar to those used against the Irish earlier in the century. A lowering of standards and living conditions was a general accusation. In the specific context of work, it was the lowering of wages, the worsening of conditions, the taking of jobs and the weakening of unionsm. The trade unionists' crime of blacklegging - actual or potential - was attributed to the alien, whose acceptance of lower living standards incurred the risk of depressed wages through unfair price competition. Strikes made the immigrant more vulnerable to the accusation 30

This attribution should not be accepted too readily. There is a growing body of evidence to place in contrast. But it is still difficult to move away from that 1880 view: it retains a strong hold even on recent historians, who still reproduce the traditional notion of Jewish immigrants as cannon-fodder for capitalism. Again, if we look to the work of Hunt, 'Jewish immigrants positively brimmed with the Smilesian virtues'31 and represented qualities often lacking in native Britons, 'enterprise, drive and technical expertise'.32 Thus Jews were never likely to be good trade unionists: 'their language and their consciousness of themselves as a separate ethnic and religious group, their easy tolerance of poor wages and conditions, their individualism, and their ambition all made them eminently improbable recruits to trade unionism'.33 Yet, over ten years ago, in a piece which deserved far more attention, Colin Holmes was writing that the assumptions outlined above should be questioned. Dealing with the Jewish tailors' strikes in 1885 and 1888 in Leeds, he drew attention to the strength and involvement of local Jewish trade unions, suggesting that they were symptomatic of 'an incipient acculturation of Jewish workers and the development of a working-class consciousness among the immigrants'.34 By looking more closely at the social and economic context of these strikes, Holmes was clearly able to outline a much more complex set of host-immigrant relationships. More recently, the published work of Joseph Buckman35 has greatly enhanced the study of Leeds Jewish immigration and, by implication, of Jewish immigration in general. He has raised in a much more detailed way the qualifications Holmes had introduced. Buckman is very scathing of much of the existing literature. 'For the many scholars who view capitalism as the ultimate stage in social evolution, and for whom there exist no dialectical historical movements, the high period of immigration has no

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35

other significance than as a staging post along a road to universal alien bourgeoisification'.36 His concern is to establish the essentially class nature of the struggles within the Jewish community at this time, to move away from the approach which depicts events as 'familial groups engaged in quaint, peculiarly Jewish squabbles common to so many pages of Jewish historical writing'.37 Looking at the strikes of the 1880s, Buckman sees them as raising many of the points of contention within his general theme. Thus, the 1885 strike is an important landmark for Jewish tailors. It was a well-organized and well-timed strike, coinciding with the 'busy season'. Attempts at blacklegging were repulsed, London tailors being met at the station and having their fares paid home, after a 'brotherly talk'.38 The outcome was a concession of an hour a day without loss of wages by the masters and it certainly brought the attention of the local press and dimensions of public opinion to a rather different stereotype of the Jewish worker. From 1885 onwards, the leadership of the union tended to be socialist, reflecting again a class rather than ethnic perspective. Buckman is keen, however, to stress that this victory in 1885 signified neither the end of native hostility nor the overwhelming success of the Jewish union. 'On the contrary, later events indicate that 1885 witnessed merely the first steps along an arduous road traversed by the workers in the face of appalling conditions, a merciless class struggle, and the important complication of English labour enmity.'39 The ensuing struggle is documented and discussed until, in 1911, a final dispute produced the masters' agreement, after some 35 years of struggle, to place Jewish hours on an approximate parity with those of the native workforce.40 Through this detailed study of labour discontent and its manifestation, the overall image of Leeds Jewry in the important formative years of that community is altered considerably. A further study, again moving beyond the bounds of the London sources, involves an analysis of Jewish trade unionism in Manchester.41 Based on the observation of five strikes in the cigarette-making trade, in tailoring, waterproof garment-making, cabinet-making and the boot and shoe industry, Bill Williams has presented another antidote to the dominant stereotype. It becomes perfectly plain that in its beginnings Jewish trade unionism in Manchester was neither a specifically Jewish nor a structurally independent movement. In four of the five strikes, Jewish workers were integrated from the very beginning in English unions. In the case of the fifth - tailoring - the separation of Jewish unionists was essentially the product not of cultural separation, hostility, uneasiness or the watertight compartmentalization of the English and Jewish sectors of the trade, but of English trade union strategy.42 Of course, even in Manchester, there were examples of Jewish blacklegging and of strikes breaking down through lack of unity. Thus, for

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example, G.D. Kelley, secretary of the Manchester and Salford Trades Council, was cheered as the champion of the sweated Jewish workers in the waterproof industry's strike in 1890 but, the same year, on the failure of the Jewish tailors to maintain their union organisation, he had slipped into a familiar anti-Semitic rhetoric. 43 This illustrates not only the range of experience within Jewish labour activity but also the fact that antialienism was not simply the product of overt and unshakeable hostility. As Alan Lee wrote, 'apparently contradictory beliefs and values may be held by the same person at the same time, provided he can compartmentalise them sufficiently to prevent the incongruity becoming apparent to him'.44 Here again, the study of strikes pushes us into a more sophisticated appreciation of the nature and consistency of anti-Jewish attitudes before 1914. Lest it be thought that these studies of Leeds and Manchester simply provide a contrast to the London experience, which produced the initial stereotype of the Smilesian chacteristics, it is worth noting two recent works which contradict that typology. Bill Fishman's research on Jewish radicalism in the East End had shown the positive dimensions of Jewish involvement in labour politics in the broadest sense. Again, it does not dispute the fact that Jews broke strikes - in one instance, James MacDonald, chairman of the London Trades Council, refused to address a Jewish demonstration in Hyde Park against the Kishinev pogroms in 1903 because Jewish workers had blacklegged in a recent tailors' strike.45 However, it also refers to a strike in 1906, where Jewish tailors operated their own retribution against blacklegs, 'imprisoning' them and fining them for the strike fund.46 And Fishman comments that, following the 1912 tailors' strike, which involved some 13,000 immigrant tailors, the concession of union recognition was a triumph for the involvement of the anarchist leader, Rudolf Rocker, but also for other aspects of the strike.47 'What was more important to him was that the view associating the Jews with strike-breaking was now invalidated.'48 Schmiechen's work on the clothing trade presents a more balanced account of both positive and negative aspects of union activity and suggests that Rocker's judgement was perhaps optimistic.49 Overall, however, it is apparent that the view could be effectively challenged. A third group of immigrants, Lithuanians working in the heavy industries of the West of Scotland, provide further evidence of the complex implications discussed above. It seems likely that they first began to be employed in the iron and steel works in Ayrshire and Lanarkshire from the early 1880s, having left Lithuania for a variety of reasons.50 The 1891 census suggests that about 40 or 50 Lithuanians were employed in coal and iron and steel, but there was a significant rise over the next ten years. By 1901, 1,135 'Russians' were recorded as working in coal mining and 624 in iron and steel. The majority of these were based in Lanarkshire.51 There is some evidence that the responses towards the Catholic Lithuanians were similar to those directed against Jewish immigrants. In their employment as 'spare furnacemen' at the Glengarnock ironworks

IMMIGRANTS AND STRIKES

37

in Ayrshire, they were seen as a threat to the native workforce. Keir Hardie's evidence to the Select Committee on Emigration, based, he claimed, on discussion with some of the Glengarnock workers, suggested that the immigrants were introduced to allow a reduction in wages to be implemented. It was also felt that the threat of introducing more foreigners was used to keep wages at that lower level.52 There were also complaints about the living conditions of the immigrants - John Hodge, of the steelworkers' union, claimed they were 4a source of danger to the general community'. 53 In coal mining, the early complaints were about the perceived dangers in employing unskilled foreign labour. These men have been allowed to work two, three and four together at the coal face, who have never been working in a mine before, and they are endangering all the lives at the colliery.'54 The miners' union in Scotland did campaign against the employment of the Lithuanians, basing their opposition on the grounds of safety.55 There was, however, an additional factor behind the reaction. The union faced, in these years, constant pressure on wage rates and the use of non-union labour during strikes to reduce costs wherever possible. Indeed, the two issues often merged into one, where a strike over the rate for a particular place would be undermined by the employer bringing in non-union labour at the lower rate. The evidence is that immigrant labour in Lanarkshire was used both in undercutting rates and as blacklegs. Allegations of undercutting were commonplace against all immigrants in this period, as we have seen. In the Lanarkshire coalfield, employers often used immigrants to keep down wages. At Thankerton Colliery in 1902, it was alleged that 'Polish' miners were being substituted for British workers and that this action was accompanied by a reduction of 4d. per ton.56 That same year, Robert Smillie, president of the Lanarkshire union, reported the actions of the manager at Neilsland Main Coal who was trying to reduce two places Via. per ton below the common rate. A deputation led by the local agent had examined the places and a decision taken to block them, whereupon the manager attempted to fill them, at the reduced rate, with Lithuanian workers.57 Similar incidents were noted in the union minutes over the next few years, the last recorded being in 1909, when it was reported that some Toles' had been started at Watson's, Motherwell, in two places, at rates under standard.58 Lithuanians were also strike-breakers: there were reported instances at Eddlewood, Kenmure, Tollcross, Baljaffray, Maryhill and Watson's, Motherwell.59 Such incidents were seen as direct attempts by employers to break the union. Officials often related the use of immigrant labour to the growing strength of the union and the expressed views of employers about the submissiveness and suitability of the Lithuanians would seem to justify such a causal analysis.60 However, wage-cutting and blacklegging by immigrants was only one side of a complicated process of adaptation to rapidly-changing economic circumstances and it would be wrong to suggest that the Lithuanians were only involved in activity against the union. For example, at Kenmure, the

38

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

'Polish' blacklegs were quickly discouraged from working by some of their countrymen who were on strike.61 In 1905 at Loganlea, a pit with a considerable number of immigrant workers, a strike against low rates was successful because of the solidarity of the men. In its half-yearly report, the union was full of praise for the immigrants. This is the first dispute in the County in which we have had such a majority of Polish miners engaged, and it is satisfactory to find that these workmen are quite as determined fighters for justice as the British themselves.'62 Indeed, in attempts to break the strike of the immigrants, Scottish blacklegs were brought from Denny, in Stirlingshire!63 Perhaps the best illustration of union solidarity came in the national strike of 1912. The dispute over the minimum wage came to a head in February and, on 1 March, a national stoppage resulted. The strike in Scotland, however, was not as solid as Page Arnot has suggested.64 There were several instances of pits continuing work, which provoked extensive picketing and angry demonstrations and it is clear that Lithuanians were to the fore in those incidents. At Tarbrax Colliery, near West Lothian, the miners' union was not very strong65 and work had continued, somewhat intermittently. Picketing had persuaded certain shifts not to go down but, on 7 March, the men agreed to recommence work, if they were protected. Within two hours of that decision, the word was sent round to march on Tarbrax and, as the newpaper account has it, Toles at Stoneyburn were the first to set out, about six o'clock '66 A shower of stones was sent through the engine-house windows, a crowd entered, forced the engineman to bring up the firemen and then the colliery buildings were set on fire.67 Eight men were eventually tried for offences arising out of the disturbances; three of these were Lithuanians. Five were found guilty, including the three foreigners. The judge, Lord Ormidale, in his sentencing said that he hesitated to distinguish between the two Scots found guilty and the 'Poles' but felt that the Scots had made some effort not to promote the wreckage of the pit.68 Thus, the Scots were given three months, whilst the Lithuanians received six months with hard labour. Only a week earlier, David Gilmour, of the Scottish Miners' Federation, had claimed at the Scottish TUC conference that foreigners had been unfairly treated during the strike and were receiving harsher sentences than those passed on native miners.69 This comment was inspired by the arrests of other immigrants during picketing, mainly on charges of breach of the peace and assault on the police. In certain cases, on being found guilty, deportation was recommended. A total of eight Toles' suffered such a sentence for offences during the strike, five during picketing and three as a result of the disturbances in Bellshill, which were directed against the return to work by non-union men at Rosehall. The three involved in the Bellshill disturbances were deported, on completion of their sentences, despite the intervention of the union, through J.D. Millar, Labour MP for NorthEast Lanarkshire, and questions in the House of Commons by Ramsay

IMMIGRANTS AND STRIKES

39

MacDonald. 70 McKenna, the Home Secretary, made it clear that the previous convictions of these miners, although 'not of a very serious character', had conviced him that it would not be right to overrule the magistrate's suggestion. The other five, arrested during picketing at Hamilton Palace Colliery and Rosehall, were also supported by the union71 and Millar. In this case, some small measure of success was achieved. The Home Office agreed that the cases deserved separate consideration. The two sentenced for the Rosehall disturbance, Dross and Prenytis, had previous convictions for offences like breach of the peace (Prenytis had six) and deportation was confirmed in their case. The other three, Wilson, Stangle and Braski, had no record and McKenna had decided, 'with some hesitation', to give them another chance. However, it was clearly stated that this did not imply a total amnesty for all 'first offenders'.72 These cases suggest that, by 1912, the extent of participation by the immigrants was considerable. John Robertson, vice-president of the Scottish Miners' Federation, speaking at Bellshill on 1 April 1912, recalled the 1894 strike, when the union had been 'crucified between racial and religious prejudice' (a reference to the Protestant/Catholic, Scots/Irish division in the workforce). Now the 1912 strike had welded together the miners, irrespective of 'nationality or creed'.73 The argument expounded by Middlemas - 'Other racial groups, even less responsive to the Socialist message, were the Poles and Lithuanians, brought in to break miners' strikes '74 - needs reconsideration in the light of this kind of evidence. What is missing, of course, in views like that of Middlemas, is any understanding of the immigrant background. In Lanarkshire, from the early days of their settlement, the Lithuanians developed a range of community institutions.75 In a Lithuanian newspaper, which appeared briefly in 1899, there were comments about strike-breakers, through lack of class consciousness, by some immigrants and pleas for workers to join trade unions and to learn English in order to overcome the barriers which prevented solidarity against the employers.76 Later, in 1903, a branch of the Lithuanian Social Democratic Party was formed in Bellshill and the 1905 Revolution 'gave a considerable impetus to the spread of Socialism among Lithuanians in Britain'. The movement grew in strength and influence in the community and, from 1907 onwards, a weekly socialist paper appeared, published in Bellshill.77 Thus, the early years show a considerable commitment to the labour movement and to socialism amongst the immigrant community as well as the native working class. Alongside the early hostility to the Lithuanians, we need to place this political solidarity. As well as attempts to limit their introduction into the mines, we should note the translation of union rules, the payment of fines for picketing offences, full benefits even for relatives in Lithuania78 and the campaigns against deportation in 1912. Together, these studies indicate that we still need to refine our views of immigrants in the labour market and of responses towards them by the settled workforce, both for this period and for the years after 1914. Whilst

40

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

much work has been done in sociological terms in this area,79 it is still the case that the models which have been produced leave important areas of analysis open. In their discussion of British trade union attitudes, Castles and Kosack noted the variety of responses which they had recorded. 'Much seems to depend on the local situation and on the personalities and attitudes of local officials. '80 It is this local dimension for the earlier period which seems to challenge the dominant stereotype of immigrant/native worker relations. If anything, the Lithuanian study provides the sharpest contrast, but it is also obvious that other immigrant groups have equally positive dimensions to be explored. Questions of class and status within the immigrant communities, political and religious tensions, need to be taken into account. By looking at a range of immigrant experiences, it has become clear that no one typology can be applied to their industrial and political activity. More sophisticated and precise evaluation of the evidence should offer better ways of understanding the responses of immigrant groups within the broad field of labour relations before 1914. KENNETH LUNN

Portsmouth Polytechnic

NOTES I would like to acknowledge the generosity of the Nuffield Foundation in providing me with a Fellowship which enabled me to undertake some of the research for this article, which is a revised version of a paper given at the British-Dutch Labour History Conference, Newcastle upon Tyne, April 1984. 1. See James E. Cronin, 'Strikes 1870-1914', in C.J. Wrigley (éd.), A History of British Industrial Relations 1875-1914 (Brighton, 1982), pp.74^98. 2. Ibid., p.79. 3. James E. Cronin, Industrial Conflict in Modern Britain (London, 1979), p . l l . See also the attempt to provide a European overview in Peter N. Stearns, Lives of Labour: Work in a Maturing Industrial Society (London, 1975), Part III. 4. Perhaps the exception here is R. A. Leeson, Strikes: A Live History 188711971 (London, 1973), which included several interviews and references to immigrant involvement before 1914, although the level of analysis is somewhat limited. Stearns, op. cit., p.2 notes the triumvirate of new migrants, traditional unskilled groups and artisans as those most affected by the need to adapt to changing work patterns after 1880 but then says very little about immigrants. 5. Richard C. Murphy, T h e Polish Trade Union in the Ruhr Coalfield: Laboi Organization and Ethnicity in Wilhelmian Germany', Central European History, Vol.11, No.4 (Dec. 1978), p.342. 6. Ibid. 7. E.H. Hunt, British Labour History 1815-1914 (London, 1981), p. 167. 8. T.P. MacDermott, 'Irish Workers on Tyneside in the 19th century', in Norman McCord (éd.), Essays in Tyneside Labour History (Newcastle upon Tyne, 1977), p. 171. 9. Hunt, op. cit., p. 168. 10. Note, however, that the 'real' ending of Irish blacklegging would not necessarily mean that such charges disappear. As Neville Kirk has shown in his work on the 1850s and 1860s, the view of the Irish as reducing living standards often bears no relation to

IMMIGRANTS AND STRIKES

11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49.

41

economic experience: 'popular attitudes and ideologies are not reducible to the economic level: inherited traditions and values do not change simply at the whim of the economy' (Neville Kirk, 'Ethnicity, Class and Popular Toryism, 1850-1870', in Kenneth Lunn (éd.), Hosts, Immigrants and Minorities: Historical Responses to Newcomers in British Society 1870-1914 (Folkestone, 1980), p.86). Some newspaper accounts challenge this interpretation. The strike is announced in the Nantwich and Winsford Guardian of 4 Jan. 1868 and on 15 Feb., it was said to be virtually over, most men having returned at the reduced wages. See Brian Didsbury, 'Cheshire Saltworkers', in R. Samuel (éd.), Miners, Quarry men and Saltworkers (London, 1977), pp.199-200. Ibid., p. 170. A detailed account of the Falks can be found in A.F. Calvert, Salt in Cheshire (London, 1915), pp.611-13. Minutes of Evidence from Select Committee (hereafter SC), on Emigration and Immigration (Foreigners), 305 (1888), Q3237. Ibid., 03247, 3275-6. Nantwich and Winsford Guardian, 25 Jan. 1868. Ibid., 4 April 1868. Ibid., 11 April 1868. Ibid. SC, 03278. Ibid., O3250. After some discussion with my colleagues Michael Laird and Frances Millard, it would appear from names quoted in local cemeteries that the area of origin was Austrian Galicia or Russian Poland. At various stages in his evidence, Falk suggested that the Germans sought employment in the Liverpool sugar refineries and that many left in the 1870s and 1880s for the USA. SC, Q3258-62. Ibid., 03354. Ibid., 03254-68. Ibid., 03319. Ibid., 03428-30. Headline in Sunday Chronicle, 5 Sept. 1886. W.J. Fishman, East End Jewish Radicalism 1875-1914 (London, 1975), pp.83-4. Hunt, op. cit., p.182. Ibid., p. 184. Ibid.,p.l85. Colin Holmes, 'The Leeds Jewish Tailors' Strikes of 1885 and 1888', Yorkshire Archaeological Journal, Vol.45 (1973), p.164. See 'Alien Working-Class Response: The Leeds Jewish Tailors, 1880-1914', in Lunn (éd.), op. cit., pp.222-62 and Immigrants and Class Struggle: The Jewish immigrant in Leeds, 1880-1914 (Manchester, 1983). Buckman, Immigrants, p . l . Ibid., pp.xi-xii. Ibid., p.66. Ibid., p.68. Ibid., pp. 115-16. Bill Williams, 'The beginnings ofJewish Trade Unionism in Manchester, 1889-1891', in Lunn (éd.), op. cit., pp.263-307. Ibid., p.288. Ibid., pp.279, 292. Alan Lee, 'Aspects of the Working-Class Response to the Jews in Britain, 1880-1914', in Lunn (éd.), op. cit., p.110. Fishman, op. cit., p.252. Ibid.,p.282. See ibid., pp.294-9. Ibid., p.300. James A. Schmiechen, 'Sweated industries and sweated labour: a study of industria!

42

50.

51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79.

80.

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN disorganization and worker attitudes in the London clothing trades, 1867-1909', Ph.D., University of Illinois, 1975, pp. 147-62. For details, see Kenneth Lunn, 'Reactions to Lithuanian and Polish Immigrants in the Lanarkshire Coalfield, 1880-1914', in Lunn (éd.), op. cit., pp.308-42; Murdoch Rodgers, 'The Lithuanian Community in Lanarkshire, Scotland, c. 1885-1914', unpublished paper from International Oral History Conference, Amsterdam, Oct. 1980. Lunn, 'Reactions', p.313. Ibid., p.311. Glasgow Trades Council minutes, 23 Nov. 1887, Mitchell Library, Glasgow. David Gilmour, MFGB Annual Conference, 5 Jan. 1896, MFGB minutes 1897. See Lunn, 'Reactions', pp.317-22. Lanarkshire Miners Union council minutes, 24 March 1902, Dep 227, 25, National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh. Ibid., 29 April 1902. Ibid., 17 April 1909, Dep 227, 52. For details of the Tannochside dispute in 1903, which best illustrates this kind of activity, see Lunn, 'Reactions', pp.323-4. See Catholic Herald, 8 Aug. 1903; 19 Dec. 1903; report of LMU for six months ending 30/6/1904, LMU council minutes, Dep 227, 31; LMU exec. comm. minutes, 16 March 1904, Dep 227, 48. For details of employers' views, see Lunn, 'Reactions', pp.319, 321. Catholic Herald, 8 Feb. 1903. Report of LMU for six months ending 30/6/1905, LMU council minutes, Dep 227, 28. LMU exec. comm. minutes, 11 and 18 Oct. 1905, Dep 227, 49. R. Page Arnot, A History of the Scottish Miners (London, 1955), pp. 125-6. See Midlothian Advertiser, 1 March 1912. Ibid., 8 March 1912. Ibid. Ibid., 10 May 1912. Bellshill Speaker, 3 May 1912. Hansard, 5th series, Vol.38, cols. 778-9 (13 May 1912). See receipt by Home Office of petition on behalf of Stangle, Braski and Wilson from Bothwell Park Miners Union, 3 May 1912, HO 46/169. See letter to Millar, copy sent to union, reproduced in Lanarkshire Examiner, 25 May 1912. Bellshill Speaker, 5 April 1912. R.K. Middlemas, The Clydesiders: A Left Wing Struggle for Parliamentary Power (London, 1965), p.29. See Rodgers, op. cit., for details. For details, see James D. White, 'Scottish Lithuanians and the Russian Revolution', Journal of Baltic Studies, Vol.6, No.l (1975), pp.2-3. For details, see ibid., pp.4-5; Rodgers, op. cit. See Lunn, 'Reactions', p.326. See, for example, Stephen Castles and Godula Kosack, Immigrant Workers and Class Structure in Western Europe (London, 1973) and the work of Robert Miles and Annie Phizacklea, particularly A. Phizacklea and R. Miles, Labour and Racism (London, 1981) and R. Miles, Racism and Migrant Labour (London, 1982). Castles and Kosack, op. cit., p. 145.

The Glasgow Race Disturbances of 1919 The 1919 race 'riots' in Britain are still an under-researched area of black history and the events in Glasgow have been particularly neglected. Using an extensive range of newspaper reports and some first-hand accounts, this article attempts to reconstruct the Glasgow disturbances. It also examines their significance in the overall framework of the British experience, in the particular context of 'Red Clydeside' and the background of the victims of these racial attacks. The particular circumstances of the Glasgow disturbances not only add to our knowledge of the 1919 riots but offer a more complex analytical perspective for future research. The place of the Glasgow disturbances within the general picture of race rioting in Britain during 1919 has hitherto been uncertain and, at times, totally overlooked. It is the purpose of this article to bring the focus of attention to the events in Glasgow, using the outbreaks of racial violence elsewhere in Britain as a background. In looking at the events at Glasgow Harbour, such diverse topics as the state of the British shipping industry at this time, the position of black society in early twentieth-century Britain (particularly that of residents in Glasgow), and the identifiable links between this example of labour unrest and the wider picture of industrial upheaval on Clydeside (during what is generally recognized as a most significant period) will be examined. When the focus of attention moves on to the coloured sailors (all natives of Sierra Leone) who were involved in the court proceedings in the aftermath of the disturbance, the significance of that region will also be discussed. In considering the particular circumstances of Glasgow, mention will also be made of that city's past associations with coloured nations and peoples, most especially through the medium of trade but also utilizing the admittedly, scant information derived from personal eye-witness accounts of coloured visitors to the city. The 1919 Race Disturbances and their Background Before this study moves on to discuss the main topic under survey, namely, the race disturbance in Glasgow, it would seem appropriate to devote some space to considering the more widely acknowledged events which, occurring mainly in the major seaport towns of Cardiff, Liverpool, London, Barry, Newport and South Shields, go to make up that period in black British history which goes under the title of the '1919 Race Riots'. At the outset it may be said that the beginning of the violent clashes between white and black people in Britain date not from 1919, but 1918. For, in December of that year, the African Telegraph, the voice of the

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Society for the Peoples of African Origin (established by John Eldred Taylor), carried a report of a violent attack upon convalescent disabled coloured soldiers by fellow white patients 1 at the Belmont Road Military Auxiliary Hospital, Liverpool. Some of the British Tommies who fought side by side with these coloured soldiers in the trenches . . . took side^s with the coloured soldiers, so much so that when the Provost-Marshal arrived on the scene with a number of military police to restore order there were many white soldiers seen standing over crippled black limbless soldiers, and protecting them with their sticks and crutches from the furious onslaught of the other white soldiers.2 Such heroic behaviour on the part of white enlisted men in this early example of the violence against black people, which came to characterize black/white relations in the following year, is not to be found in the contemporary newspaper reports of the riots (which, as will become increasingly evident, are the main sources of information for the 1919 race riots). When a white ex-serviceman was mentioned, it was usually a reference to his involvement in attacks upon blacks. One account of the rioting in Cardiff mentioned that a ' . . . number of colonial soldiers who constituted themselves ringleaders led the attack. When the firing commenced they adopted active service tactics, dropping flat on their faces and crawling backwards to safety'.3 Several newspapers reporting on the incident refer to one of the dead, John Donovan, a white man, as an ex-serviceman who was wearing his Mons service medal. The Times report on the Cardiff rioting also referred to the involvement of ex-servicemen: 'Several colonial soldiers constituted themselves the ringleaders of the beseiging party, which was largely made up of discharged soldiers. Some of the latter asked: "Why should these coloured men be able to get work when it is refused us?" '4 The significance of this comment cannot be overstressed in attempting to explain the underlying causes of the 1919 race riots. Both the government's mishandling of the demobilization of hundreds of thousands of servicemen (white and coloured) and the resultant intense competition for jobs in what was a contracting industrial base after the great wartime demand for supplies had declined, can be put forward as reasons for the white attacks upon their largely unsuspecting black victims. (Although black people were mainly the targets, Arabs, Chinese and Somali people were also attacked.) Similarly, it has to be made clear that not all the white attackers were British; the job of seaman was, by its very nature, international and white sailors of every nationality were equally keen to find ships at the expense of black seamen. A situation in which violent outbursts could come as no surprise. As a result of a riot between several Scandinavian and a large number of West Indian Negroes at a late hour on Thursday, thirteen of the latter made their appearance before the Liverpool Stipendiary

THE GLASGOW RACE DISTURBANCES OF 1919

45

magistrate According to the evidence, it appeared that on the preceding night a coloured man had been stabbed by a Scandinavian, and, in order to avenge their countryman, the negroes banded together in order to 'get their own back'. 5 The African Telegraph, commenting on the Liverpool riot, gives the reason for black anger towards certain North Europeans at this time: Our correspondent states that for a considerable time past there has been ill feeling between Scandinavians, Danes and Russian Poles, and Black Britishers, who are in the seafaring line. The reason for this is that the black man feels that his services were appreciated when he undertook risks on 'Q' ships and other dangerous callings to meet the requirements of war, while at the time the foreign element was naturally viewed with suspicion The cessation of hostilities, however, has brought a swarm of Russian Poles, Danes, Scandinavians etc. to Liverpool and other seaport towns, and the black Briton finds that these men are given preference in engagements on board steamers now that there is no longer any danger to the country — 6 By far the highest proportion of working blacks at this time were involved in the 'seafaring line', an association which had deep roots in the past, dating from the slave era, but which had gained a weight of numbers far in excess of what had gone previously due to the demand for merchant seamen as white sailors enlisted in the Royal Navy during the war. 'Black seamen, replacing men needed by the navy, were made welcome in the merchant service. By the end of the war there were about 20,000 Black people in Britain.' 7 Blacks had also come from the colonies to work in munitions and chemical factories but, with the contracting of such industries in peacetime conditions, these men began to make their way to the port areas of the country (the traditional home base for most black people in Britain) in the hope of finding community support, a passage home or employment on a merchant shipping vessel, although the last was increasingly difficult to obtain. The merchant shipping industry was characterized by the transitory and irregular nature of its employment. Partly because of this, the understandable conflict of interests between employer and employee was heightened in the trade. Such conflict was augmented by a long-running dispute between the two seamen's unions. These issues will be discussed in a later section, and are only touched upon here to illustrate how far black people looking for employment in this field were at a disadvantage in comparison with job-seekers in other more stable industries. It should be noted, however, that work in these other occupations was not available to blacks as a consequence of white workers' hostility and employers' prejudice. A further disadvantage facing black seamen was the environment into

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which they settled: at once isolated from the rest of the community (due to their lack of stable relationships and permanent homes) and inhabiting the dockside areas of towns which even today are often some of the worst sections of inner cities. James Walvin's comments on the arrival of black colonial seamen to aid the war effort hold true for the post-war period. The immigrants who were a mixture of West Africans and West Indians, all tended to settle in the first instance in dockside areas which were invariably slum districts long before the Negroes arrived . . . it has to be stressed that the deplorable conditions of the embryonic black reception areas were inherited, rather than created, by black immigrants. 8 The isolation of black seamen was an important element in the violent white reaction to them, for, in the strange and independent society of the harbour area, a black man was an outcast among a class of men removed from the rest of society. This point is raised in a case study of the Liverpool riot in which the concentrated and exposed nature of the black community is commented upon. 9 Other black communities existed in Britain, as will be shown later, but the black seamen found themselves isolated even from these other groups. A further factor in the riots of 1919, and one commented upon by numerous reports, was a feeling of sexual jealousy on the part of white aggressors directed against the black seamen. While the question of how far this element can be found in the events in Glasgow remains unanswered, it is clear that this deeply entrenched and distasteful host reaction to black/white sexual involvement was very much in evidence in the rioting in England and Wales. T h e relations of coloured men with white women were . . . referred to angrily';10 T h e outbreaks at all the different centres have arisen as the result of the coloured men's too familiar attention to white women'.11 While one report of the London rioting of April 1919 states, Tt is asserted that the white men resent the attention paid by their coloured rivals to the waitresses at some of the cafés about Cable Street, and last night's riot is ascribed to this cause'.12 One difficulty facing historians of the period has been to relate the outbreaks of violence to the post-war economic depression which did not affect most of Britain until spring, 1919. The phrase 'most of Britain' is carefully chosen, for the unique position of Clydeside, with its recent history of wartime industrial disputes, made it both a particularly vulnerable and immediate target for the restriction of capitalist investment. Dealing with the 'Red Clyde', even before the events of early 1919, was anathema to many employers now that peace had come. The slump hit Glasgow industry immediately the war ended and worsened at the beginning of 1919, a time when almost all the rest of Britain was enjoying the brief post-war boom, and this contrast in circumstances made Glasgow an economic plague spot . . . unpopular for its wartime record.13

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Any consideration, therefore, of the immediate background to the Glasgow racial disturbances must take into account the economic dislocation as a factor in the riots. Above all, it is clear that the disturbances were the product of a complex interrelation of causes and events, as Neil Evans' assessment of the troubles in Cardiff suggests. Resentment at the increased prosperity, at the houses and girlfriends which the war put in the coloured men's way did not in themselves lead to riot. Such attitudes were largely passive until the severe economic depression . . . which coincided with the badly mishandled demobilisation of troops and sailors, made them active and querulous. Pre-existing racial sterotypes enabled the multifarious tensions and problems of the post-war world to be focused on a convenient scapegoat.14 The Glasgow 'Race Riots' In view of the lack of secondary material on the Glasgow events, it is clear that only by looking at the contemporary local press reports that any assessment of the place of the Broomielaw disturbance within the general picture of the 1919 race rioting can be made. Similarly, any points of divergence from the general background may emerge. It is important to note here that the following survey is based on the reports of the disturbances in the six 'dailies' then in circulation in Glasgow, namely, The Glasgow Herald, the Daily Record and Mail, the Bulletin, The Evening News, The Evening Times and the Evening Citizen. Apart from these, there is also an account of the disturbances in the Scotsman (which was published in Edinburgh). Interestingly, a newspaper which was printed in Glasgow (but whose printing was soon to be transferred elsewhere), The Socialist, does not mention the Broomielaw incident in an article on the riots (although no specific areas anywhere are mentioned), in what is, after all, a political analysis of the nature (or rather the necessity) of racial competition within the capitalist system. The racial question is, however, a very serious one for the Socialist movement. Our intellectuals in the labour movement are full of schemes for the 'backward races'. Likewise, as could only be expected, the Trade Unions have prided themselves on having ousted coloured labourers from certain occupations. This, of course, is but the logical development of the Trade Union's policy which is prepared to strike rather than that any unskilled white worker should get a 'skilled job'. The Socialist Labour Party has always insisted . . . that no worker should be debarred from working at any job. It does not matter what the colour, sex or skill of the worker may be. Real industrial organisation must aim at protecting the international working class against the capitalist class.15 The above extract comes, of course, from a publication with a particular

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political perspective. A somewhat different view was taken by 'Hal O' the Wynd', who appears to have been the 'voice' of the Evening Times at this date: ' . . . In this country Sambo has been usually regarded with general tolerance. We have looked upon him as an "amoosin' cuss", who would never create anything approaching a problem ... , 1 6 In utilizing such racist terminology, the Evening Times is illustrative of the dominant trend in the reporting of the riots throughout Britain. A further example of this can be taken from the Manchester Guardian (a report which was reproduced in the Evening News), whose assessment of the black man was given as follows; 'The quiet, apparently inoffensive, nigger becomes a demon when armed with a revolver or razor, caring for nothing except the safety of his own skin and the speediest method of overcoming his opponent'. 17 Given the low standard of objectivity often displayed by the newspapers of the time, it is fortunate that there are so many accounts of the events in Glasgow Harbour, from which a substantially accurate picture of the events will hopefully emerge. A serious disturbance, extending for almost an hour, and at moments of a riotous description, occurred early yesterday afternoon among seamen at the Broomielaw, Glasgow. The affray began in the yard of the Mercantile Marine Offices, which following upon a heated dispute, was the scene of furious fighting between white and coloured sailors and firemen.18 A more colourful, but similar, version of the events appeared in the Daily Record and Mail. . . . it was about half past three that the situation entered upon a critical phase. A large number of men of both nationalities were assembled in a court near the Mercantile Marine Office pending their being signed on for a vessel. There had been some chaff between the parties, and this led ultimately to a challenge being issued by one of the blacks who expressed his willingness to 'take on' any of the opposing faction. The invitation did not long hang fire 19

Another report continued the story: Making their escape into James Watt Street, the coloured men took refuge in the Sailors' Home, where the disturbance continued until the contending parties were ejected by the police. Beating a retreat along the Broomielaw for their lodging house, the coloured men were followed by a hostile crowd of British and other whites. All along the route a running fight was kept up, and at the lodging house several of the beleaguered aliens [sic] are said to have fired revolvers on their opponents on the street below.20 It was from here that the police removed, with no resistance, the cornered

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black sailors. The number of police involved in the operation has been put at around 50, including reinforcements who had been summoned by locals to support the few policemen on duty in the area. In the course of the fighting, three men were seriously injured: a coloured man and two white men; Duncan Cowan (shot) and Thomas Carlin, who had been stabbed. The coloured man, who had also been stabbed, was described as follows: T h e injured black gives the name of Tom Johnson, and is a stocky little fellow. Against him is preferred the charge that he shot a seaman [Cowan]... \ 21 Johnson was further described as ' . . . a man from Sierra Leone who speaks little English, [and who] complained of having been stabbed, but it is understood that his wound is not of a serious nature'. 22 To quell the disturbance the police took the coloured seamen, natives of Sierra Leone, about 30 in all, into custody. Although not mentioned in the immediate reports on the disturbance, a white man was also arrested for an incident involving a policeman. While being driven away in a closed van, 'the coloured men had a hostile reception from the crowd'.23 These, then, were the events of the Glasgow race disturbance as described in the press. The reason behind the violence was also considered in four of the newspaper accounts of the incident and here there was some contradiction. The Glasgow Herald stated its case fairly clearly: Tt is understood that the disturbance originated because of an alleged preference being given to British seamen over coloured seamen in signing on the crew of a ship at Glasgow Harbour'. 24 Not surprisingly the Herald's sister paper, the Evening Times, expressed the same view, indeed using exactly the same words.25 The account of the disturbance in the Evening News contained a similar statement but, when attention is turned to the Evening Citizen report of the events, the position is reversed. T h e trouble began because the blacks were being given preference over the whites in signing on for a ship about to sail. The whites resented this, especially as it is well known that coloured men are paid lower wages'.26 Such an explanation cannot be ruled out of hand, for, given the mood of the white sailors as expressed at the mass meeting of protest against the use of alien seamen held only hours before, such an occurrence as this (black seamen being taken on before white) would almost certainly have provided the spark that set off a blaze of violence. However, since the Evening Citizen was the only newspaper to give this version of the events, it would be wrong to take other than an equivocal position on this point, particularly in view of another, eye-witness, account of the events, which seems to support the version of the incident as given in the three newspapers mentioned above. As a result of an appeal for information which I had printed in the Evening Times, I was contacted by Mr William Adams, a gentleman now resident outside Glasgow, but who lived in the area at the time of the disturbance. His reminiscences of that day, allowing for the effects of the passage of 65 years, are of use in providing an alternative view of the incident, although the question of how far Mr Adams' memory is

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unconsciously echoing the newspaper or adult comments of the time must be considered. I was a boy of twelve years at the time and I lived in Brown Street, that was the street next to James Watt Street, and I remember it was a morning when the seamen went to the office in James Watt Street. White men and coloured men alike to sign on for work, most times it was the white men who were getting the preference and this morning in particular the coloured men could stand it no longer, so they started fighting and it was said that razors were used and loaded walking sticks and batons, and there were supposed to have been guns as well.27 The discrepancy in Mr Adams' timing of the incident (newspaper accounts speak of the affray taking place in the afternoon) can perhaps be explained by remembrance of the seamen having attended a mass meeting in the morning in James Watt Street, after which they went to sign on for work. No first-hand accounts from the Glasgow victims of the racial violence appear to exist but the following account from the autobiography of Ernest Marke, a native of Sierra Leone with many years' experience in the merchant navy, describing his experiences in Liverpool in 1919, gives some indication of the circumstances surrounding the rioting. This extract is taken from a lengthy passage on the riots generally and the causes behind them. I went out with my room-mate to the grocer's around the corner. From nowhere a mob appeared. We started to run back only to find another mob facing us. We were trapped, and though we fought hard for our lives there was nothing we could do against so many. They beat us up mercilessly, had it not been for some working women coming out of a nearby factory for their lunch hour, I would not have lived to write this story. The women rushed at the mob, shouting and screaming madly. We were both laid up for three weeks . . . Of course the mobsters didn't get things all their own way. Some of them were badly cut up; negroes started carrying guns and razors to defend themselves. More mobsters got hurt in Cardiff's Tiger Bay than any other part of Britain, for Tiger Bay had the toughest negroes there were in Britain . . . Liverpool, Cardiff and Glasgow were the worst of the riot spots.28 The immediate aftermath of the riotous disturbance at the Broomielaw was a series of court cases, which revealed contemporary attitudes towards coloured people and the exposed and uncertain nature of life as it was experienced by black Britons at this time. Thirty men, all coloured, who were arrested last evening by the Glasgow police at Broomielaw as having formed part of a riotous mob and of recklessly discharging firearms to the danger of the

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lieges, were brought up at the Central Police court today and were ordered by the Magistrate to be detained till to-morrow.29 This case, involving a relatively large number of coloured sailors, attracted most press coverage, but there were others which are worth mentioning here. In the course of their search for the man who wounded Michael Carlin . . . the police of the Western Division arrested a coloured sailor, named David Samuel, a native of Sierra Leone, who was found with a revolver and twelve cartridges. Samuel was brought before the Divisional Court yesterday and was remanded on a charge of contravening the Defence of the Realm Act by having firearms in his possession.30 Perhaps the most potentially serious case arising from the racial antagonism entirely escaped the press, for the injured black sailor, Johnson, was not removed from the scene of the incident along with his fellow blacks. The exception was a native of Sierra Leone, who gave the name of Tom Johnson, and who was detained at the Marine Court on a charge of shooting a seaman named Duncan Cowan. Johnson, who subsequently complained of injuries was found to be suffering from a wound in the back and was conveyed to the Western Infirmary.31 The ultimate fate of Johnson is unknown; it is possible that he was never brought to trial through lack of evidence. T h e Sierra Leone man [Johnson] is alleged to be the person who fired the shot which wounded the British sailor, but in the meantime it is difficult to say anything positive, owing to the excitement which prevailed. He is detained meantime'.32 Indeed this may have been the reason for the charges being dropped against 27 of the coloured seamen who appeared at the Central Police Court before Stipendiary Nielson. . . . Mr. David Cook, writer, said he appeared for all the accused, and on behalf of three - Julius Parkinson, Daniel Pratt and Thomas Cole - tendered a plea of guilty. The Fiscal (Mr. George Smith) accepted that plea, and deserted the diet simpliciter against the other 27.33 It is worth mentioning here that the 'writer' (an old term for solicitor) charged with the defence of the coloured sailors was, on the evidence of his entry in the Post Office Glasgow directory at least, a successful legal representative of long standing. His entry for 1919 reads: 'Cook, David, writer, 162 Bath Street; house; Strathearn, Helensburgh; Tel add; 'Assize Glasgow'; Tel No.s Douglas 723 and 733'.34 The first Directory in which he is entered dates from as early as 1897, the last 1934. From the length of his career alone, even by 1919, it is clear that in David Cook, however he came to defend them, the coloured seamen involved in the Glasgow disturbance had secured a lawyer of some substance.

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On the evidence of the newspaper reports of the trial, and the subsequent result, it appears that Cook did a competent job. However, the alternative view, that the court dealt with the coloured men with scrupulous fairness, and even the suggestion that the blacks had only been taken in custody to prevent even more serious consequences, must also be considered. T h e magistrate said the offence was committed under conditions of great gravity, and the result might have been more disastrous. He imposed a fine of £3 3s on each, with the alternative of 21 days imprisonment'. 35 The same hint of politic action cannot, however, be derived from most of the cases resulting from the 1919 race riots in other areas, although this fact has been overstressed. Both in arrest and detention the Negroes, who were the victims of the violence, were subjected to scandalously biased treatment . . . Gross injustices inflicted on the various black communities in 1919 came, not solely from the mobs, but also at the hands of the police and the courts, although in London legal discrimination seems to have been absent.36 Glasgow may well be added to this list, but were things really as bad as James Walvin here suggests? Certainly there were far more coloured people arrested than whites, which is suggestive of a degree of police bias, but this is not the whole picture. May and Cohen feel that police intervention may have had a positive impact. 'With the active intervention of the police in separating the two sides, the most violent expressions of antagonism abated'. 37 Neil Evans' study of the incidents at Welsh ports states that: . . . the policy of police in arrests in Newport and Barry shows discrimination with a great imbalance in the numbers arrested. The courts were more equitable. At Cardiff the legal processes started with flagrantly unequal sentences imposed on black and white men for similar offences but eventually the decisions of the courts seem to have reflected the nature of the offences.38 This latter aspect can be seen in the case of the one white seaman arrested as a result of the disturbance at the Broomielaw, where the sentence given was compatible to those given to the three black seamen convicted at the Central Police Court six days earlier. A case arising out of the rioting between white and black sailors which occurred at the shipping office, Glasgow, on 23 January, was heard today at the Western Police Court, when Patrick Cox (19) was charged with assaulting Constable Russell in James Watt Street. During the fighting on that day a number of white men had attacked a Chinaman [sic] and knocked him down. When Constable Russell interfered and went to the Chinaman's assistance he was struck from behind. He was unable to identify his assailant, but witnesses stated Cox was the man who gave the blow. Baillie

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Mollison found the charge proved and fined Cox 3 guineas, with the option of 20 days' imprisonment.39 Details of a final legal action arising from the fracas at Glasgow Harbour are to be found in the Minutes of Glasgow Corporation's Magistrates' Committee; the property involved was in the same building as the black seamen's boarding house from which shots were fired and which came under attack from the white rioters. There was submitted a letter from Messrs Robert Walker & Orr, writers, intimating a claim against the Corporation on behalf of Mr. R. Robin's Trustees, in respect of damage alleged to have been done, on 23rd ultimo, to property belonging the them at 120Vi Broomielaw, occupied by Mr. H.E. Thorne, through a disturbance which took place among a number of sailors on that date. The Committee, after considering the claim and a report thereon by the Chief Constable agreed to recommend that liability therefore be repudiated, and that the Town Clerk be authorised to defend any action that may be raised.40 An element in the court cases not previously discussed is the significance of nationality. All the arrested men were natives of Freetown, Sierra Leone. This fact is particularly significant for, as residents of the Crown Colony, they were British subjects. Sierra Leoneans resident outside the Crown lands, that is, in the protectorate were in a different category as British Protected Persons. The irony of white sailors, non-Britons among them, attacking these subjects of the British Empire is made more bitter when the history of the colony is considered. The establishment of Sierra Leone as a colony had its origins in the poor conditions suffered by the growing number of destitute blacks in London as a result of the Amercian War of Independence. Many of them ex-servicemen, this late eighteenthcentury group of black Britons provided a ready source of unwanted humanity upon which philanthropists (or should it be paternalists?) such as Thornton and Sharp could carry out an experiment in Utopian settlement. The fact that such men genuinely cared for the sufferings of the 'Black Poor' cannot disguise the fact that Sierra Leone, the area fixed upon for the settlement, was far from being a paradise on earth. The first expedition ended in disaster with the deaths of many of the settlers. But later settlements from Nova Scotia, and the influx of over 60,000 'recaptives' after 1807 (freed slaves rescued from ships belonging to nations still engaged in the slave trade) meant that a solid community was established. The object of the exercise was to ' . . . provide Africans with the good things Europe could offer, instead of the evil slave trade'. 41 By 1808, the province of Freetown and its environs was made a crown colony. Throughout this period missionaries were at work among those in the community not already Christian. Some missionaries gave the recaptives new names, but most preferred to choose names (of the missionaries) like Metzger, far more had names of officials (like MacCarthy, Reffel, Nicol, Coker

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or Macfoy). Some took settler names (like Williams, Jarret or Davis).42 This close link between Sierra Leoneans of the crown colony, the capital of which was Freetown, and Britain evidently continued up to 1919, for comments on the English surnames of the coloured seamen brought to trial in Glasgow are to be found in most press accounts of the trials. 'Most of the accused, although obviously of negro blood, bore familiar Englishsounding surnames, such as Johnson, Davis, Parkinson, Alfred, Pratt, with Tom Friday at the end of the list'.43 In the case of two who gave the same name the magistrate had some difficulty in finding a means of distinction. Both said they belonged to Sierra Leone and when asked from what part of Sierra Leone, both replied Freetown. Dr. Neilson then asked them their occupations, and found that both were firemen, and he had at least to differentiate them by their ages, which on inquiry were found not be the same. A similar process was gone through later with another two of the seamen who also had the same names, came from Freetown, Sierra Leone and were firemen.44 By the settlement between Britain and France of 1895, Britain's sphere of influence was divided between the crown colony area and a Protectorate, where native chiefs still ruled under the guidance of District Commissioners. The importance of British sovereignty to the citizens of Sierra Leone must be stressed, particularly when it is noted that . . . in 1853 the Liberated Africans and their children (the inhabitants of the Crown Colony in other words), had been declared British subjects by Parliament, a fact which served to give a certain legal credence to A.J. Shorunkeh-Sawyerr's pronouncement in 1893 - that the Creole was a 'Black Englishman'.45 However, as Britain's interest in the colony increased with the expansion of the Empire in the late nineteenth century, those black residents who had advanced themselves in business and land-holding were forced from their position of influence by white settlers. That the defence lawyer, Cook, was aware of the injustices being done to these British subjects is perfectly clear from the press reports of the trial in which he is quoted as saying During the whole period of the war and for some years before the war they [the coloured men] were manning British ships and were, of course, entitled to the protection of the British Government. Some of them had formerly sailed from Glasgow, but on this occasion a number of men had come from Cardiff to man ships in Glasgow Harbour. 46 That the coloured seamen were treated relatively leniently can perhaps be attributed to a more general realisation of this injustice.

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When looking at the contemporary reports of the Glasgow race disturbances one is struck by the fact that few of the newspapers which mention these incidents link them to the more general phase of rioting from April to June 1919. Indeed, outwith Scotland, there is very little evidence that the tension between black and white sailors at Glasgow Harbour was even noticed, although exceptions to this general statement can be found.47 Why the Glasgow incident should be almost totally ignored is open to question. It may be that the disturbance was classed as too minor to merit attention in the national press, yet far less severe skirmishes of a racial connotation were reported in the Scottish press. An amazing scene was witnessed at one of London's popular lunching centres - Lyon's Corner House, Coventry Street - just as the mid-day trade was at its height on Saturday . . . when a rather shabbily-dressed negro appeared in the hall, and quickly made his presence felt by his strange behaviour The negro who it appears, was recognized as a former employee of the firm, using his axe with disastrous effect, quickly smashed all the glass and china ware on several of the tables. .. ,48 The resulting struggle between the armed man and a chef, while making the report good reading, does not explain why such minor incidents were reported in the Glasgow press while the more significant occurrences on the Broomielaw attracted so little national coverage. The London bias of most newspapers at this time can be suggested as one reason for this lack of balance, but perhaps a better case can be put forward for the Harbour incident being overshadowed by the upheaval and violence caused as a result of the 40 hours' strike in Glasgow, which also spread to other parts of Britain. The government reaction to the protest meeting at George Square: 'Suddenly the police staged what could only be described as a riot and charged the crowd . . . '4y, and the drafting in of 12,000 troops, 100 lorries and six tanks, was certainly more spectacular, and of greater import than the events on the Broomielaw, but the fact that the former event took place only a week to the day after the strife at the Harbour merits some comment. The proximity of these two incidents, the 40 hours' strike and the racial disturbance, is of great significance. There is a case to be made for seeing these events as interconnected, not merely indirectly in terms of evidence of a post-war national catharsis, but very clearly in the form of one individual - Emanuel Shinwell. Shinwell was, at this time, leader of the Seafarers' Union and one of the organizers of the 40 hours' strike movement. His dual role is apparent from a contemporary report. . . . into the question of the strike . . . has been introduced the subject of [the] employment of Chinese labour on board British ships, it being urged that the time is opportune for a movement to clear such labour from the ships in order to provide fuller employment for British seamen. On this subject considerable feeling exists - as was

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manifested by the riotous incidents in the Broomielaw on Thursday last.50 Shinwell presided over a meeting of seamen at the Harbour on 30 January, the day before the gathering in George Square to hear the government's response to the Strike Committee's proposal on a convention to discuss methods of securing fuller employment in view of the prevailing post-war economic depression. Addressing the seamen he ' . . . urged them to take effective steps to prevent the employment of Chinese labour on British ships .. . V At the same time, it was reported that the seamen were being drawn into the broader strike movement. 'An effort is being made to extend the strike to the seafaring men at Glasgow Harbour. The shore workers attached to the British Seafarers' Union are out for the 4 0 - hours week, and ships crews are being asked to refrain from signing on in sympathy with them'. 52 An earlier meeting had been held on the morning of Thursday, 23 January. The question of Chinese labour on British ships, and its relation to the unemployment of British seamen, was held this morning at James Watt Street, Glasgow. Over 600 men were present. Councillor Shinwell, of the British Seafarers' Union, who addressed the meeting, directed attention to the large number of British seamen and firemen who were at present unemployed and the large number being demobilised who would find it difficult to secure employment aboard ship. This he attributed to the refusal of the Government to exclude Chinese labour from British ships, and it was essential, he said that action should be taken at once.5* In between this series of meetings, in fact on the very afternoon of the meeting mentioned above, the disturbance between black and white sailors occurred. On the basis of the evidence available it is clear that direct competition for employment was a major factor in the fighting. In addition, it is clear that white seamen (including foreign sailors) made black seamen (British subjects included) the object of their general frustration with the poor employment situation. Bearing in mind the character of the men involved, it is not surprising that demands that 'action should be taken at once' should be converted into a physical demonstration. In Shinwell's own words; 'They were tough men, awkward to deal with, and without much of a social conscience'.54 Indeed, it took a tough man to lead a union composed of such individuals. 'Local seamen's feelings ran high and easily to violence, but finally Shinwell, an expert boxer, agreed to try'55 is how Middlemas describes Shinwell's accession to power. However, it would be misleading as well as inaccurate to regard the immediate background to the sailors' disturbance solely in terms of the coincidence of Emanuel Shinwell's dual role. His involvement in the 40 hours' strike was as much a product of the Clydeside industrial war disputes as a result of the depression and subsequent shrinking job market which was the occasion

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for its birth, while the seamen's grievance had its roots in the pre-war years. Even the use of force was not a new development. The apparent co-operation between the Seafarers' Union and the National Sailors' and Firemens' Union (under the demagogic leadership of Havelock Wilson) in attempting to enforce a colour bar on British ships had not been the case in previous years when disagreement, often violent, was the characteristic factor in inter-union relations. A tragic sequel to a quarrel between two unions took place at Glasgow Harbour last night. In the course of an encounter between members of rival organisations, a delegate of the British Seafarers' Union was fatally wounded by a revolver shot. The victim, James Martin, who was about 40 years of age, resided at 75 Finnieston Street. In connection with the affair Alfred W. French - Scottish Secretary of the National Sailors' and Firemen's Union of Great Britain, a well-known leader of the transport workers, was arrested with a revolver in his hand and lodged in the Southern Police Station. Although rivalry has existed in the ranks of the two organisations ever since the foundation of the British Seafarers' Union whose original membership was largely composed of seceders from the National Union, the circumstances of the present quarrel date only from last weekend when a change of crew was made on S6 Messr. David MacBrayne's (Ltd.) Steamer Columbia The establishment of the Seafarers' Union at Glasgow Harbour had come about after Shinwell had angered the National Union's leader, Wilson, who had appointed him Secretary of the Glasgow branch of the NSFU, by organizing the shore workers at the Harbour, who were doing a job closely allied to that of the seamen. The breach occurred when Wilson sacked all the local Glasgow officials, who continued to do their work under the breakaway title of the Seafarers' Union. The dispute between the two unions continued to smoulder into the post-war era, but there was agreement over the attempt to ban alien seamen from British vessels, a policy which pre-dates the violence of the race riots of 1919. Foreign and coloured seamen attracted more attention in the decade preceding the First World War. The distress of colonial subjects in Britain was sufficient to prompt a government report in 1910 and the growing number of seamen of non-British birth was a subject which attracted widespread comment. After describing an afternoon of anti-Chinese violence in Cardiff during the seamen's strike of 1911, Evans continues - ' . . . the anti-Chinese feeling was an ominous development; the numbers of foreign seamen started to decline and a sad precedent for the exploitation of ethnic differences in a situation of economic conflict had been set'.57 A report in the Glasgow Herald from 1914 shows that Glasgow seamen were also involved in the campaign against the employment of foreign seamen.

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A demonstration in furtherance of the agitation against the employment of Asiatic labour on British ships was held last night in the City Hall, Glasgow The Chairman said that their objection to Chinese and Indian labour was not because these men were of a different race and different colour, but because they lowered the standard of life for white men.58 The differentiation in rates of pay for white and African seamen was made apparent during the national seamen's strike of 1911. The strike arose out of the seamen's growing awareness of low wages and deplorable working conditions. Wilson also complained that British hands were being replaced by lower paid foreign labour. The strike resulted in higher wages for British seamen, but this was partly paid for by reducing the wages of African seamen. Ships' articles from after 1911 show white wages increased from £3.10s per month while those of African fireman were reduced from £3.10s to £2.10s per month.59 That the shipping companies exploited this difference in wages to hire cheaper crews is apparent from a report on Parliament in the Glasgow Herald late in 1918. Answering Mr. Houston (Liverpool, W. Toxteth, U.) Sir L.C. Money said - It is, I regret to say, not infrequently necessary to utilise men other than white British seamen to complete crews of British ships. The fact that white British crews are not always available for British ships is largely due to the extensive employment by British ship owners of foreign seamen prior to the war. The question of the adequacy of the supply of British seamen has been receiving the close attention of the Ministry of Shipping. A test scheme was recently initiated in London for training youths with a view solely of their suitability for immediate employment in merchant shipping.ftn From the above, it is clear that coloured seamen were a disadvantaged class even before the outbreak of the war, being both lower-paid and the objects of white union hostility. The resulting higher wages of wartime were also counterbalanced by the greatly increased threat to life. Indeed, if that threat was overcome, peace brought with it a renewal of white hostility and reduced wages, which even after the open violence of the race rioting had subsided left coloured seamen a disadvantaged, and generally unemployed group of men. Blacks in Early Twentieth-Century Britain Having examined the background history of the seafaring trade in Britain, it is worth turning to examine the wider picture of black life in Britain. Not all blacks were seamen, however much this had become part

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of the stereotyped white image of black residents in this country. T h e coloured was assumed to be a seaman, someone who would go back "home" and for whom no provision need be made'. 61 Yet the 1910 government investigation into the distress of colonial subjects referred to above had revealed that not all distressed black people in Britain were in the seafaring line. One witness told the committee that about 3 in 5 of the distressed blacks were seamen. About a quarter of the destitute black people were said to be 'student adventurers'. There were also a number of people brought to Britain as servants ('butlers and nurses' from the West Indies) who had left their employers because of bad treatment 62

There was a notable sprinkling of West Indian and West African students in the universities and other institutions of further education in Britain at this time. Two delegates from the Edinburgh University Afro-West Indian Literary Society attended the 1900 Pan-African Conference, so Scotland was part of this wider picture of black British activity. From such evidence, it is clear that there were a number of black people in Britain whose minds were open to such issues as the place of the coloured races in the world. The co-operation and support of missionary organizations and Liberal MPs demonstrated at the PAC mentioned above further indicated that, on occasion, the host community could display a more favourable attitude to black people than that shown in the port areas during 1919. A friendly and sympathetic attitude was displayed by the increasingly vocal socialist movement in Britain towards members of the African Native Congress during their visits to publicize the plight of Africans in South Africa. Indeed, the visits paid by Sol Plaatje, the ANC's first president, to Scotland are indicative of this. On the occassion of Plaatje's 1919 visit to Scotland, Forward, the newspaper of the Independent Labour Party, reporting on a lecture given in Glasgow stated that he was ' . . . probably the first black lecturer to appear on the Socialist platform in this country'. 63 The appearance of this article in Forward is interesting in view of the fact that the disturbances of January were totally ignored by the paper, perhaps in embarrassment at the lack of fraternity shown by white workers towards their black brethren. A further aspect of interest regarding Plaatje's trips to Scotland was the opportunity these visits gave him to meet up with two acquaintances: 'Modin Molema, Silas Molema's son who was now in Glasgow studying medicine; and James Moroka, a descendant of the Seleka Barolong Paramount Chief, Moroka, doing the same thing at Edinburgh'. 64 A further contemporary account of Glasgow exists in the form of An African Savage's Own Story, the autobiography of an African who found his way to the Glasgow dockside in 1896 only to be looked on as a curiosity as he stood, a naked, shivering boy, on the quay. . . . Instead of a policeman's picking me up, someone else did; and, 3

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RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

according to what that gentleman said before he died, he merely did it out of pity. He said that he saw me in that rude crowd, and he knew that I was cold, and he saw that none of those rough uncouth people showed any pity at all for a poor wee black creature from the African bush.65 By degrees, under the influence of the young son of the wealthy family into whose presence Lobogola was brought, he became 'civilised', and attended a school. His 'young master' often took him out to play in the parks of Glasgow, including Kelvingrove Park. One night my young master himself took me out. It was a virtual crime, one of the seven sins, for us to leave the house after dark. I was bewildered. We walked through 'Sauchi', down 'Buccy' and along 'Argyle' seeing the sights of a lifetime. (These abbreviations are the first names I learned for Sauchiehall Street, Buchanan Street and Argyle Street). 66 The references to Glasgow in the book do seem to be those of a person who had lived in the city for some time, so despite the far-fetched description of his arrival as a stowaway, Lobogola's account is of some value in describing the life of a black person in Glasgow in the early part of the twentieth century. His statement that ' . . . during the whole time that I lived in Scotland and in England, I had never seen another black man'67 can be attributed to his relatively sheltered lifestyle, in which a visit to the Broomielaw would have been out of bounds. Interestingly, the accounts of both Lobogola and Marke mention working as showmen during their chequered careers. Indeed, the alternative to the sea or the university for black residents in Britain would appear to have been the showground. As William Adams remarked, 'the only other coloured man I knew lived on the corner of Oswald Street. He was called Jasper and he worked with show people'. 68 Reference to the mixed reception given to Lobogola by the citizens of Glasgow leads on to a more general consideration of the historical links between this city and the black world. That there was a 'black presence' in Glasgow in the late eighteenth century is clear from an entry in the Glasgow Public Record of Baptisms dated 12 October 1782, which reads 'Anthony Cunningham, Labourer (Negro) and Margaret Pollok, a lawful son, David, born 19th, witnesses James Smith, John Finlay and John Aitken'. 69 Despite this evidence of at least one settled black citizen in the second city of the Empire, it is through the medium of trade that links between Glasgow and the black world can most clearly be traced. . . . the merchant guilds of Glasgow . . . thought primarily in terms of trading to Ireland and to France, though in the later 17th century they developed a regular direct connection with the West Indies and the English plantations on the mainland of North America, and also to the Canary Islands.70

THE GLASGOW RACE DISTURBANCES OF 1919

61

This pattern of trade with the West Indies and particularly with North America, in which tobacco was the main interest, remained the dominant one so long as trade remained a major factor in Glasgow's economy. Trade with Africa was negligible, until the partition of that continent was undertaken by the major European powers in the latter half of the nineteenth century. Part of the reason for this can be traced back to the ill-fated Darien Scheme, when the funds raised by public subscription for 'a company of Scotland trading to Africa and the Indies'71 were wasted on the failed attempt to found a colony at Darien in the isthmus of Central America, and the embarkation of four ships to East India and Africa, only one of which returned with a profit. When in fact a trade was developed, concentrating 'in the early 70's mainly on West Africa, and thereafter on Egypt and South Africa',72 it remained a minor part of the city's commercial life. The other long-standing connection between Glasgow and the black world, namely, the once-flourishing anti-slavery movement was little more than a memory by 1919. There existed in Glasgow until 1876 an organization known as the Glasgow Emancipation Society. Although the last meeting of this body, called on February 1876, was held to protest against the Fugitive Slave Ordinance issued by the British Government with respect to East Africa, it had nothing to do with Africa after 1870, and in fact during the last years of its existence was practically defunct.73 It may be concluded then, that apart from the presence of black seamen in Glasgow Harbour, relations with the black world were confined to trade, and since that trade was never in bonded black humanity, the existence of an integrated coloured community was not a factor in Glasgow social life (as it was in Liverpool, for example). In passing, it may be said that this fact probably was the reason for the absence of sexual jealousy as a factor in the Glasgow racial disturbances, although there were black/white inter-racial marriages in existence in the city (see below). The final aspect of the Glasgow racial disturbances to be considered is the subsequent fate of the coloured seamen in the aftermath of the events discussed above. The position of coloured seamen in Glasgow remained dismal according to a report of March 1919. We make no apology for returning to the subject of coloured seamen, British-born subjects, in Glasgow. The apology is due from the National Sailors' and Firemen's Union which took the disgraceful step of refusing them - although members - to serve on British ships, (This ban of course was also being enforced by the Seafarers' Union). The only shadow of an excuse is the shallow pretence that the places the coloured men would take are to be reserved for discharged soldiers. That is sheer bunkum. One poor fellow has died as the result of privations, and of 'sleeping out' for he had no money and no bed. Yet he was a Briton who had defied the Hun and

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RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

his devilries for the sake of Britain. There are 132 of these ill-treated fellows in Glasgow most of these without a square meal any and every day. Their appeal to the Lord Provost has been calmly ignored. They are modest enough to say - 'first place for white Britishers; after that coloured Britishers'. Yet they are ordered to 'clear out' from ships at Glasgow, while they see Norwegians, Swedes and Spaniards taken on.74 The African Telegraph echoed this sentiment: 'The men now cast on the streets have paid their subs as members of the Sailors' and Firemen's Unions, but the officials of the Glasgow branch have made and enforced a rule that no coloured seamen are allowed on British vessels'.75 According to Mr William Adams, the result of the fracas was the removal of most of the coloured seamen from the scene of the incident: ' . . . not long after this trouble, work was found for most or all the coloured men on a ship and an awful lot of them left Anderston [leaving] wives and babies behind them and most of them never came back '76 Whether the seamen were returned to Cardiff or back to their homelands is uncertain but, if repatriation was the solution employed, this would be in keeping with the action taken after the major outbreaks of racial violence in English and Welsh ports, resulting in the repatriation of 627 coloured seamen by 1921.77 There remained, however, a number of coloured residents in Glasgow, the wife of one of whom was prompted to write to the Evening Times after the comments by 'Hal O' the Wynd' mentioned above. I think as the white wife of a British coloured man I have a right to speak. 'Hal O' the Wynd' thinks it repulsive to see a white woman in the company of a coloured man. It is a shame to say that. They are as God made them; they cannot help the colour of their skin. We, the white wives know better than anyone what they are. We have been married for years and find the British coloured man - 1 don't say all, but I say most - make us very good husbands.78 Another significant letter to the press as a result of the 1919 race rioting appeared in the Daily Record and Mail (which will be quoted in full as the most extensive account of the contemporary black Glasgow reaction to the rioting of 1919). We, the members of the African Races Association of Glasgow, view with regret the recent racial riots in different parts of Britain, and resent the unwarrantable attacks that have been made upon men of colour, without exception as one common herd of inferior beings. It seems from the newspaper reports that the seat of the trouble lies in the fact that men of colour are employed at seaport towns, while demobilised soldiers are unemployed. Is it not a fact that there are in the same towns ex-service coloured men also unemployed? But, granting that some coloured soldiers are employed are they not in the minority - about 1,000 to 1, and are

THE GLASGOW RACE DISTURBANCES OF 1919

63

they not British subjects the same as the white men, and consequently deserve the same consideration? Did not some of these men fight on the same battlefields with white men to defeat the enemy and make secure the British Empire? Did they not run the risks of losing their lives by submarine warfare in bringing food for white women and children in common with white men? Is the treatment meted out to them now compatible with the British teaching of justice and equity, or is it an exhibition of British gratitude?79 The letter was signed by the Secretary, African Races Association of Glasgow. After this and other letters to the press on the subject of the riots, nothing further is heard of the African Races Association of Glasgow until an exchange of letters in 1922 between the founder of the Association, Leo W. Daniels, a black Canadian who had lived in Glasgow for 34 years, and Robert Russa Motón, Principal and successor to Booker T. Washington of the Tuskegee Institute, Alabama, USA. The occasion for the correspondence was an appeal for funds and advice by Daniels to Mo ton who, as Principal of Tuskegee, was one of the leading influences upon black thought and activity worldwide (despite attempts to belittle its significance by black radicals). The basis for Daniels' appeal was Moton's recent visit to Glasgow as a speaker at the Glasgow Missionary Congress of October 1922, a trip which also brought him into contact with the African Races Association. It is clear from Moton's letter that he was not willing to give other than verbal support to the ARAG, whose members apparently did not come from that class of black people who were the subjects of attack in 1919. ' . . . I would urge you to draw just as largely as you can upon our own people there in Glasgow for the support of your movement. From what I saw of them, they are far from being poverty stricken '80 This assessment can be supported by the evidence of Daniels' letter in which he describes the Committee of the ARAG thus: 'Dr. Riberio of Accra, West Africa - Chairman, Dr. James Horsham of Meharry Medical College - Secretary, James Miller, Ships Joiner, Jamaica, B.W.I. -Secretary, Leo W. Daniels (Ontario)-Founder'. 81 It is unclear what Daniels did for a living, but it is likely that he and his fellow members were settled and relatively well-accepted residents of Glasgow. This was most apparent in the links between the ARAG and Christian organizations in the city as Daniels' letter to Moton shows. 'Rev. John MacBeath wrote me a beautiful letter of encouragement and so did Dr. Donald Fraser and ex-Chief Constable I.V. (this should read J.V.) Stevenson of Glasgow who had given me £50 or £30 to use as I like in anything I care to use it for.'82 MacBeath was the Secretary of the Scottish Churches Missionary Campaign and a leading light of the Missionary Congress (and thus known to Moton, as was Fraser). The Right Rev. Donald Fraser, D.D., was Moderator of the United Free Church of

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RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

Scotland and Chairman of the Congress. Ex-Chief Constable (he retired in March 1922), J. Verdier Stevenson was evidently a man of great religious feeling, as the following report shows. The directors of the Glasgow United Evangelistic Association at their quarterly meeting in the Bible Training Institute, Bothwell St., yesterday presented Chief Constable J.V. Stevenson with a silver inkstand on the occasion of his retirement from the office of Chief Constable of Glasgow and in appreciation of his Christian character and the interest and help extended by him to the association in its work.83 It is likely therefore that he attended the Missionary Congress in a personal capacity. The fellowship extended to Daniels on his approaches to these men of strong Christian belief was similarly evident in the reception afforded to Moton when he appeared as a guest speaker at the Missionary Congress on the topic of T h e Negro - His Economic and Social Progress'. Tn marked contrast with the restraint of this speaker (Mr. K.T. Paul) was the breezy and vehement address of Principal R.R. Moton, the chief [sic] representative in the Congress of the negro race'.84 Unfortunately, these glimpses are the only record of what appear to be a very interesting example of grassroots black self-help and organization in Britain. Further evidence of a continued coloured presence in the city can be found in the press reports of a court case in November 1919. Cornelius Johnstone, a coloured man, was charged at Glasgow Southern Police Court on Saturday with having kept or used a hall at 60 Mains Street, Gorbals, for public dancing without having obtained a licence, as required by the Glasgow by-laws for places of entertainment. Alexander McKay and John McDonald, Glasgow men, were also accused of having assisted in the management. It was explained by Superintendent Ord that the premises had been rented for the purpose of a coloured man's club which was designated T h e Order of the Star of Bethlehem's Shepherds'. At first no fault could be found, but latterly the premises had been used for public dancing, and admission had been charged. When the police made a raid in the early morning of September 27, the hall was packed with dancers. Baillie Thomas Young fined Jonhstone £10 with the alternative of 60 days' imprisonment. McKay was fined £5, or 30 days in prison and on McDonald a fine of 20s was imposed.85 Such descriptions as this are a further tantalizing glimpse of a hidden black history which is surely deserving of more research and publication. Conclusion From the discussion above, it should be clear that the race disturbance at

THE GLASGOW RACE DISTURBANCES OF 1919

65

Glasgow Harbour in January 1919 was not simply an early example of the spate of violent attacks upon black seamen in port areas, which reached their height in June of that year. Nor, however, can the incident be explained purely in terms of the industrial strife which had been simmering below the surface on Clydeside throughout the war years, and which exploded into violence at George Square on 31 January. Indeed, it would be wrong to see the Broomielaw fracas in isolation, and this is why it has been discussed within the context of the ongoing rivalry between the two seamen's unions and the contemporary position of black people in British society. Both these aspects must be considered in the background to the rioting, along with the more obvious issues of the industrial/economic situation on Clydeside, and the evidence of racial antagonism. That this example of racial violence has attracted so little attention is unfortunate in view of the unique aspects of the Glasgow incident, namely, its coincidence with wider labour unrest, the absence of sexual jealousy as a motivating factor in the white reaction to the black presence and the relatively early date of its occurrence. Similarly, the absence of these events from works of labour history dealing with this period on Clydeside is also regrettable, particularly as the clash on the Broomielaw can be taken as an example of how one element of the working class can be made the scapegoat, by those supposedly protecting the interests of all workers (in this case the two seamen's unions), in order to secure the best deal for their members, at the expense of the minority. In terms of black history, the episode on Clydeside is worthy of mention as part of the general picture of the 1919 race riots but, on closer examination, the Glasgow events and their backgrounds are perhaps of more importance for the points at which they diverge from what has (up to now) been regarded as the established pattern of events. In conclusion then, a knowledge of the events at Glasgow Harbour both adds to the information which is already available on the 1919 riots and alters the perspective from which this series of incidents has hitherto been viewed. JACQUELINE JENKINSON

University of Edinburgh

NOTES 1. Peter Fryer has recently stressed the role played by white servicemen, who had fought in South Africa, in this incident. See his Staying Power (London, 1984), p.297. 2. African Telegraph, Vol. 1, No. 8 (Dec. 1918), p.94. 3. Glasgow Evening News, 13 June 1919. 4. The Times, 14 June 1919. 5. The Scotsman, 14 June 1919. 6. African Telegraph, Vol. 1, No. 12 (May-June 1919), p.209. 7. Fryer, op. cit., p.296. 8. James Walvin, Black and White (London, 1973), p.205. 9. Ian Law and Linda Loy, T h e History of White Racism, Black Settlement and the

66

10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57.

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN Struggle Against Racism in Liverpool', unpublished paper delivered at the International Conference on the History of Blacks in Britain (London, Sept. 1981), p.21. The Times, 14 June 1919. Daily Record and Mail, 14 June 1919. Glasgow Evening News, 17 April 1919. R.K. Middlemas, The Clydesiders (London, 1965), p.90. Neil Evans, T h e South Wales Race Riots of 1919', Llafur, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Spring 1980), p.10. The Socialist, 10 July 1919. Evening Times, 18 June 1919. Glasgow Herald, 24 Jan. 1919. Evening News, 18 June 1919. Daily Record and Mail, 24 Jan. 1919. Evening Times, 18 June 1919. Evening News, 18 June 1919. Glasgow Herald, 24 Jan. 1919. Daily Record and Mail, 24 Jan. 1919. Glasgow Herald, 24 Jan. 1919. Evening Times, 24 Jan. 1919. Evening Citizen, 24 Jan. 1919. Extract of a letter from Mr William Adams to author, 8 Aug. 1984. Ernest Marke, Old Man Trouble (London, 1974), p.31. Daily Record and Mail, 25 Jan. 1919. Evening News, 24 Jan. 1919. Ibid. The Bulletin (Glasgow), 24 Jan. 1919. Evening Times, 29 Jan. 1919. Post Office Glasgow Directory, 1919-1920. Evening Times, 29 Jan. 1919. Walvin, op. cit., pp.207-8. Roy May and Robin Cohen, T h e Inter-relation between Race and Colonialism: A Case Study of the Liverpool Race Riots of 1919', Race and Class, Vol. XVI, No. 2 (1974)p.ll5. Evans, Llafur, p. 18. Evening News, 14 Feb. 1919. Magistrates' Committee Minutes, Glasgow Corporation, 18 Feb. 1919 (Mitchell Library, Glasgow). Christopher Fyfe, A Short History of Sierra Leone (London, 1962), p.26. Ibid. The Bulletin, 25 Jan. 1919. Glasgow Herald, 25 Jan. 1919. John Peterson, Province of Freedom - A History of Sierra Leone 1787-1870 (London, 1969), p.299. Evening Times, 29 Jan. 1919. See John Bull, 29 March 1919 and African Telegraph, Vol. 1, No. 11 (April 1919), p.184. Evening News, 3 Nov. 1919. Christopher Harvie, No Gods and Precious Few Heroes: Scotland 1914-1980 (London, 1981), p.22. The Scotsman, 29 Jan. 1919. The Bulletin, 31 Jan. 1919. Evening Times, 28 Jan. 1919. Evening Times, 23 Jan. 1919. E. Shinwell, Conflict Without Malice (London, 1955), p.48. Middlemas, op. cit., pp.51-2. Glasgow Herald, 15 June 1913. Evans, Llafur, p.7. See also Lunn's essay in this volume.

THE GLASGOW RACE DISTURBANCES OF 1919 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85.

67

Glasgow Herald, 21 April 1914. Law and Loy, op. cit., p.21. Glasgow Herald, 6 Nov. 1918. Michael Banton, White and Coloured (London, 1959), p. 117. Fryer, op. cit., p.295. Forward (Glasgow), 22 Oct. 1919. Brian Willan, Sol Plaatje-South African Nationalist 1876-1932 (London, 1984), p.186. Lobogola, An African Savage's Own Story (London, 1930), p.76. Ibid., p.199. Ibid.,p.323. Conversation with Mr William Adams, 15 Aug. 1984. Glasgow Public Record of Baptisms, 1782 (Mitchell Library, Glasgow). T.C. Smout, A History of the Scottish People (London, 1969), p.169. T.C. Smout, Scottish Trade on the Eve of Union (London, 1963), p.250. W. Thompson, 'Glasgow and Africa: Connexions and Attitudes, 1870-1900', unpublished Ph.D.thesis, Strathclyde University, 1978, p.250. Ibid.,p.201. John Bull, 29 March 1919. African Telegraph, Vol. 1, No. 11, (April 1919). Conversation with William Adams, op. cit. Walvin, op. cit., p.208. Evening Times, 21 June 1919. Daily Record and Mail, 25 June 1919. Principal R.R. Moton to Mr Leo W. Daniels, 11 Carnarvon St., Charing Cross, Glasgow, Scotland, 29 Dec. 1922, Tuskegee Institute Archives, R.R. Moton Papers, Box 9C-80, File 597. Leo W. Daniels to R.R. Moton, 2 Dec. 1922, Moton Papers, op. cit. Ibid. Glasgow Herald, 28 March 1922. The Monthly Record of the Free Church of Scotland, Nov. 1922, p. 186. Glasgow Herald, 3 Nov. 1919.

Regulating the Reserve Army: Arabs, Blacks and the Local State in Cardiff, 1919-451 Cardiff s cosmopolitan population was expanded greatly during the First World War, but unwelcome once the exceptional demands of the war were over. A variety of governmental agencies became concerned with the regulation of this reserve army of labour. There were persistent attempts to deny entry to coloured seamen, to restrict unemployment relief and to brand the whole community as undesirable. From the late 1930s a greater demand for shipping provided the context for growing black resistance to discrimination, much of which came from the seamen's union and the police. In the Second World War official attitudes to blacks were modified somewhat. On 9 April 1923, Cardiff City Council's Watch Committee met. Amongst its decisions was the following resolution: That having regard for the industrial character of the city, and to its cosmopolitan population, it is, in the judgement of this committee, essential to the preservation of law and order that the police force be maintained at its greatest possible strength n Control and regulation were always at the centre of the Council's response to Butetown, the district of the city which had housed its cosmopolitan and transient population since the mid-nineteenth century. That population and especially those sections of it originating from the Middle East and the Caribbean had been greatly expanded in the course of the First World War when residents of the British Empire and Protectorates were recruited to man British merchant ships. Colonies formed a potent source of a reserve army of labour, rapidly recruited amidst expressions of imperial patriotism. 3 The onset of the economic depression of the inter-war period - it was particularly marked in the shipping industry which faced intense international competition and the consequences of the over-expansion of capacity in a brief post-war boom - left this coloured population beached and unwanted. It was a reserve army to be employed when the Empire needed it, not when it needed the Empire. Its existence was a matter of considerable concern to the City Council and the police in particular but many other agencies came to be involved. The local authorities were not the only bodies to be confronted with the issue, for though they sometimes acted independently and at the behest of their own racist urges, they were also enmeshed in a wider network of action and power, both local and national. Pressures exerted upon them locally came from non-conformist groups, the press, trade unions, shipowners and ratepayers. Some of these groups also acted through the central state, which in turn was a source of instructions and

REGULATING THE RESERVE ARMY

69

directives. Local bodies - the City Council, the police, immigration officers, Poor Law Guardians, the local Mercantile Marine Office - the agencies directly charged with regulating this reserve army, were the focus of converging pressures. 4 Arab and black organizations resisted the assaults upon them and towards the latter part of the period considered here they had some success in ameliorating their conditions, a position aided by the quickening of demand for seamen in the late 1930s. The Second World War saw a flood of more benevolent interest in Butetown. Once again the Empire needed its reserve army. Physically and in social composition, Butetown was a peculiar community, usually known at the time by the disparaging title of Tiger Bay: Tiger Bay is an island. It is cut off from the rest of the city by canals on two sides, a railway on the third and on the fourth side there are docks. Racially, economically and humanly it is quite separate. It is segregated from the rest of Cardiff by colour prejudice. Overcrowding, intermittent unemployment and poverty create bad material conditions. And the pressure of these led to a resentful attitude to the outside world.5 It was in fact a ghetto. Its people were more segregated than the black population of Liverpool and London at the time, though they were perhaps not as strictly confined as the blacks who were formed into ghettos in American industrial cities from the end of the nineteenth century. In other respects Butetown more closely paralleled the ghettos of European immigrants in the United States; like them it was an amalgam of people of different origins and it served some central-place functions for a smaller and more scattered immigrant population in the rest of south Wales. Yet, unlike such communities, it was not a springboard for full participation in the wider society, nor was it possible for immigrants to bypass the ghetto experience in any substantial number of cases. If coloured men had jobs, only very rarely were these outside of seafaring. Other avenues were not open and settlement in the rest of the city and South Wales generally was extremely restricted.6 Butetown also contained a portion of Cardiff's red-light district. Bute Street, the central throughfare, linked Cardiff's docks and offices with the centre of the city and was 'the jugular vein of capitalist Wales' .7 Along it there were many less exalted transactions than those engaged upon in the coal exchange to the south. Cafes with dubious reputations, really scarcely-disguised brothels, illegal drinking establishments, opium dens and gambling joints faced the railway line from the tall houses of this onesided street. Bute Street was the focus of the more transient elements in Cardiff's maritime population. It formed a facade for the network of smaller streets behind, which led into the more spacious houses of Loudon Square. The square and the backstreets were the habitat of the mixed coloured population of the area. Family dwellings and ethnically-

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segregated boarding houses sheltered a population composed of settled families and of single men, often living in lodging houses. 8 If Bute Street was the jugular vein of the Welsh economy, through which the life-giving coal flowed to the docks, Loudon Square was its Adam's Apple - it bobbed with every swallow and hiccup of the international economy. The close proximity of the two areas made it easier for white Cardiff to turn the coloured community into a pariah group. In reality the two were as distinct as was compatible with close physical proximity. Strictly speaking the term Tiger Bay' applied to the fleshpots of Bute Street; it was nineteenth-century in origin and was alleged to refer either to the colourfulness of the inhabitants or to their ferocity. The name was shared with Wapping and Georgetown, Demerrara. 9 The later application of the term to the whole area was one of the means used to label the coloured population as undesirable; it was a fudging of distinct areas which had important consequences for the city's ethnic minorities. The following discussion will try to make the distinction as clear as possible. What kind of a community existed in the area? Modern nostalgia for the now departed area is not altogether a reliable guide. How did the various ethnic groups get on? 'Marvellously', we are told with little qualification and 'with all those people of different nationalities there was very little trouble on a racial basis'.10 The myth of a harmonious past has some basis; the different nationalities all faced discrimination and the whole coloured population had been attacked by angry white crowds in June 1919. There was a vigorous street culture and help in time of need, as characterized many white working class communities at the time. Local efforts at inter-racial co-operation were certainly a marked contrast with the relations between immigrants and white communities in Cardiff generally. But equally there were tensions and this is unsurprising. The inhabitants came from a wide variety of different cultures, and faced an extremely competitive scramble for jobs - these led to street fights and riots on an ethnic basis in the 1920s. These are well-remembered - more so than the race riots of 1919 now - but written off as a kind of exhilarating diversion. The married and settled community were united by their families; the wives were usually white women and like their children they had a background in common. For the more transient population, however, women were a possible source of division. Quarrels broke out between men over their 'proprietorship' of women, as some of the women seem to have juggled with their relationships during long voyages.11 The irregularity and unpredictability of tramp-shipping sometimes led to the collapse of the act in mutual recrimination. Fights might result. Conflict was sporadic in the 1920s, but obviously an accommodation had to be found in day-to-day life. It was a real possibility, rather than a constant feature of social life.12 The diversity of Butetown's population is underlined by the figures for the number of 'alien coloured' seamen in Cardiff in 1930 shown opposite.13

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REGULATING THE RESERVE ARMY ALIEN COLOURED SEAMEN IN CARDIFF, 1930

Nationality Arabs Somalis Portuguese Indians Malays Egyptians West Indians Africans Americans Panamanians Peruvians Brazilians Maoris

Total Population (in Cardiff or at sea) 1241 227 73 148 121 49 300 384 4 2 1 1 1

The population was even more diverse than these figures suggest. In 1937 the Cardiff Police observed: The Port of Cardiff has been a magnet for coloured persons chiefly engaged in seafaring for many decades Coloured nationals of approximately thirty different countries regard this port as their home. Apart from coloured seamen fourty [sic] - four nationalities are registered by the Police ... as being resident in this City.14 Boarding houses, like other aspects of Butetown's social life, were organized on the basis of ethnic groups, rather than on any common identity as immigrants:15 Nationality of Boarding Houses Arab Arab and Egyptian British British and Scandinavian British, Spanish and Portuguese British, Spanish and Italian British and Spanish British and Portuguese British and West African Danish and Scandinavian Chilean Greek Indian Italian Maltese Malay Portuguese Portuguese and Maltese Russian and Finnish Scandinavian, Lett and Finnish Scandinavian Somali Spanish West African West Indian West African/West Indian All other nationalities

22 3 21 9 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 10 1 1 2 2 3 1 1 1 3 4 2 4 5 5 2

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Bute Street was close by, and though many members of the coloured community shunned it some connection was inevitable - official policy and less-organized discrimination kept them cheek-by-jowl with the port's less savoury activities. Members of two groups in particular, the Chinese and Maltese, were involved in illicit activities. Chinese opium and gambling dens occupied one portion of Bute Street and they were the subject of frequent police raids in the inter-war period. Bute Street was the weekend recreational area for a Chinese community which was scattered throughout South Wales and Gloucestershire. Laundry workers in particular, from the Rhondda and from Newport, were said to frequent the houses. Clearly these were illegal activities in Britain, but they represented less stigmatized activities for the participants, and unlike other Bute Street activities they were confined to people from a common background. There could be little suggestion of a 'contaminating' threat to Cardiff's morals. Despite this, the police saw it as their task to repress these activities with some ferocity. The Chinese responded with some ingenuity - complicated escape routes were evolved and the police had to surround a large area in order to make a catch. Carrier pigeons were used for the importation of opium from other ports such as Liverpool, as well as drug smugglers travelling by train, with opium concealed upon their persons.16 Gambling was frequently seen as evidence of racial inferiority and opium smoking was said to sap the health of the Chinese, who were regarded as being particularly prone to tuberculosis. It was to this image of decay and inferiority that the police reacted rather than to any real problem. They responded with even more vigour to the Maltese population, some of whom became involved in the brothel-keeping business in the 1920s. The police aimed at driving them from the city. They employ immoral women as waitresses and they nefariously commercialise vice. Needless to say, they have been convicted and fined over and over again and sent to prison. Unfortunately, the very special attention they receive from the police is insufficient to make them pine for the blue sea and sky of their Mediterranean home.17 This issue will be discussed in more detail presently, but a few more remarks are pertinent at this point. Need and a lack of alternative jobs or business activity drew people into prostitution and procuring. One woman who had married a collier in 1918 left him because of ill-treatment. After finding her way to Bute Street, she lived with a Maltese seaman. They started a grocery business in Loudon Square but it failed; they were refused a licence to run a boarding house because they were not married. Bute Street and its cafes were a possible venture; her move into illicit trade led to a 15-month jail sentence for procuring girls for an immoral purpose from Marks and Spencer's Bazaar in Bristol.18 Some coloured men became involved in the brothel trade, and probably by similar

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routes, though there is no evidence of their widespread involvement. On the contrary the evidence points to their respectability.19 Bute Street's vice was clearly exaggerated anyway. Its reputation rested chiefly upon the period of prosperity before the First World War. The prevalent crimes were clearly related to drink, exuberance and celebration, all of them activities which the depression of the inter-war period curtailed. In their more reflective moments, the police recognized the decline in crime and, occasionally, so did the press. During the Second World War the Lord Mayor of Cardiff, Captain James Griffiths, reflected: T have known Butetown since 1884; and I have been there at all times of the day and night, and never once have I been insulted or offended.' Clearly Butetown had its criminal fraternity, and the police frequently observed it - in their searches for stolen jewellery, for instance. It was still possible for seamen to be robbed, drugged or otherwise exploited while on shore. Prostitutes and thieves worked in close collaboration on occasion. But Butetown was never the exclusive focus of the Cardiff underworld, and many of those with long memories point to the other side of the South Wales railway line, the Bridge Street and Caroline Street areas, as the real centres of crime and violence. Bute Street was in decay, quietening down and becoming a 'street of sleeping cats'. Certainly it was safer to walk its streets late at night than the more lurid descriptions would allow.20 This district of Cardiff, with its multiplicity of communities, was throughout the inter-war period seen as in need of control. Issues which first emerged clearly in the race riots of 1919 proved to be persistent. The conflict which lasted for several days in June of 1919 resulted in three deaths and damage to property of £3,112 2s. 3d. Legal expenses added a further £928 2s. Id. to this.21 In a context of the dislocation of the coal trade and of large-scale demobilization, coloured sailors recruited for the duration were displaced by white men discharged from the Royal Navy. Competition for jobs was the major source of tension, but sexual jealousy, moralistic campaigns against the coloured population and the general disgruntlement of the discharged soldiers were other ingredients in an explosive mix. The riots took the form of attacks by white crowds on black boarding-houses, and these became particularly frenzied after a white man was killed on the first night of the disturbances. The police protected the main black settlement around Loudon Square (because they feared the blacks would kill more whites if they didn't) but left unguarded a secondary area of largely Arab settlement nearer the city centre. This population moved into Butetown in self-protection, and the Loudon Square area became an even more concentrated area of black settlement as a result.22 In the aftermath, preparations were made for the repatriation of black sailors. A committee was established, linking various parts of the local state apparatus for the task now before it. Representatives of the Board of Trade, the Employment Exchange, the Aliens Officer and members of the District Maritime Board joined with the police and the City Council in

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the pressing work. From London the Ministry of Shipping and the Ministry of Labour directed activities. Financial inducements were offered to those wanting to leave - a gratuity of £5 on landing and aid to redeem essential items from pawn. Economy triumphed over racial purity - the financial inducements were never sufficient to tempt many black men to accept the offer, and as many were settled and the scheme did not allow for the immediate repatriation of families, the scheme proved to be - in its own terms - unsuccessful. It was no more successful with those at sea - on one vessel which left Cardiff in August 1919 there was a mutiny and, when repatriated men arrived in Trinidad, their stories of their mistreatment in Cardiff played a part in the upheavals in Trinidad in December. If Cardiff mistreated the Empire, the Empire was quite capable of striking back. A story circulated of a white crowd stopping the funeral of a black man in Cardiff, decapitating the corpse and playing football with the head. Actions in Cardiff were clearly locked into a wider imperial system and had unforeseen consequences.23 The consequences of 1919 were to be felt throughout the period considered here; the themes which surfaced then - economic friction, white moral outrage and black resistance - were present throughout the inter-war period. They never exploded into vicious riot as in 1919, but they sealed the black population in the position into which it had been forced in the riots. It took another war partially to resolve the situation. The following discussion will consider these themes of employment, moral outrage and black resistance in turn. Employment and Unemployment The post-war boom in shipping proved to be short-lived. It was not able to avert the riots of 1919, and by 1920 it was over. Seamen agitated against any further influx of foreign or coloured composition and in 1920 they and the Board of Trade persuaded the Home Office to issue the Aliens Order. Immigration officers were instructed to refuse permission to land to coloured seamen unless they could prove that they were British subjects or that they were living in Britain or that they had signed on in the UK for a round trip. When a ship arrived in port, the master was obliged to report any passenger or coloured seamen to the immigration officer. This restriction did not apply to vessels trading coastwise from foreign waters (such as from France or the Low Countries) where there was a scrutiny of the crew lists only every six months. Temporary shore leave was possible for sailors in a ship en voyage, and also for non-British coloured men signed off at Cardiff, as long as the owners guaranteed in writing to repatriate them as passengers within a specified time.24 The rationale of this procedure was clear; it was an attempt to avert further conflicts like those of 1919: It is most desirable that the number of coloured seamen coming into this country should be restricted as much as possible, as it is

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extremely difficult for these men to obtain employment in the United Kingdom either on board ship or ashore and their presence is the cause of serious unrest among British seamen and has led to disturbances and breaches of the peace at British ports.25 Riots clearly had beneficial political consequences for some. Public policy continued to further the objectives of racist crowds. This measure proved to be ineffective. Coloured seamen were smuggled in, or came in the unrestricted coasting trade vessels. By early 1920s the downturn in shipping was so severe that there was considerable distress amongst seamen in Cardiff and exceptional measures had to be taken to deal with the situation. In 1921, unemployment was widespread in Cardiff and a variety of agencies was providing relief - National Insurance, the Lord Mayor's Distress Fund and trade unions. The Poor Law Guardians were providing loans, the Municipal Distress Committee relief work and special provisions were made for hungry school children and expectant mothers.26 The crisis had deeper roots but had been exacerbated by the threemonth lock-out in the coal industry which followed decontrol in 1921. In June, as the lock-out drew to a close, urgent letters and telegrams passed between Cardiff and London. The Lord Mayor and the police feared that further violence would break out. About 3,000 seamen of all nationalities were ashore because of the laying-up of shipping, and many of these were financially distressed or absolutely destitute. Only 900 were covered by insurance, including a few domiciled coloured people; 1,400 were not in receipt of such benefits, of whom 300 were coloured aliens. The remainder was made up of 1,110 coloured British seamen, most of whom were being kept by the boarding-house masters without any payment. After five months of this, some were threatened with bankruptcy and were refusing any further credit. They threatened to take concerted action to expel the coloured seamen if no aid was forthcoming. Apparently the Cardiff Poor Law Guardians provided relief tickets entitling the men to three meals a day at one of the seamen's institutes, and at night they slept in the boarding houses. The cost was 1/- per day for each man. This procedure was adopted from 1921 to 1923. Missions to seamen provided many free meals and allowed some of the destitutes to sleep on their floor, but the Lord Mayor's Fund did not provide any relief for seamen. The Saint George's Fund for Seamen provided £500 to assist the work of the Missions to Seamen. It was suggested that the government should grant 10/- per week for the destitute coloured men, as a loan, and that this would be given to the boarding-house masters. The government regretted that it had no funds for such a purpose, and it became necessary for other avenues to be explored. The hardy perennial of repatriation flourished. Many of the men did not want to be repatriated, including some Japanese long domiciled in Britain. The British authorities declined to take the Japanese Embassy's advice to use force against them but were prepared to deport a few to

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encourage the others. The Immigration Officer at Cardiff thought the best course would be to establish a concentration camp for the coloured seamen until trade revived, 'otherwise they will soon be in the streets and the local authorities will probably be unable to cope with them'. The fear of riot was persistent and was invoked by the Cardiff PC5 Committee in their campaign against Havelock Wilson's deal with the shipowners in 1922. The PC5 accentuated the problem of distress amongst a cosmopolitan population and it was feared that 'law and order is likely to be disturbed at any moment'. Ultimately some 500 Adenese seamen were repatriated from Cardiff via Plymouth in September. Apparently the crisis had already eased by then, possibly as the result of the resumption of work in the coal industry. But at the end of the year almost 30 per cent of workers engaged in shipping services were unemployed.27 Any easing of the situation was temporary - by the next year the crisis was acute despite a slightly lower unemployment figure in the shipping industry. In February 1922, the distress of the coloured population at the docks was said to be serious and several hundred men had been unemployed for periods ranging from six months to three years. The Seamen's Union was urging the City Council to take action to alleviate distress. The Immigration Officer of the Port of Cardiff thought that there was unlikely to be any trouble, though some men had been prosecuted for concealing firearms for self-defence. By August there were large numbers of hungry sailors lacking shelter at night, in danger of arrest for vagrancy. Charitable institutions had discontinued aid owing to a lack of funds. A temporary refuge was established at the Antelope Hotel and, within a month, 260 persons had been sheltered.28 In 1923 it was observed ' . . . still the outlook is anything but bright', and at the Sailors' and Soldiers' Rest 'we are constantly meeting the haggard faces of the homeless, penniless men who come to our institution day after day, and month after month waiting for the ship that never sails'.29 As far as the coloured population was concerned, the boarding-house masters seem to have carried the main burden. The number of Arab seamen was alleged to be increasing because of illegal immigration and the boarding-house masters were once again feeling the pinch.30 Some boarding masters tried to protect their investments by bribing ships engineers to give their men preference in signing on. Arabs came from societies where bribery was a more acceptable practice, and their situation was desperate. Bribery became a source of tension in the early and mid-1920s and there were explosions of violence. The events are well remembered, but hard evidence of them is difficult to obtain. Local tradition insists that there were riots between West Indians and Arabs over this issue in 1926, and many vivid descriptions of the events are forthcoming. There was a serious affray on the streets between Arab tribes in 1923, and competition for jobs was probably the underlying cause. Isolated cases of more disturbances over signing-on can be found in 1925, but so far the events of 1926 have proved to be elusive.31 The National Sailors' and Firemen's Union (NSFU) constantly agitated

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against what it saw as a growing influx of coloured seamen and the bribery of Arab boarding-house masters to secure jobs for them. Such agitations easily led to campaigns against all coloured men and the genuine, but probably small, illegal trade was a lever which the union thought possible to use to move all coloured men. It denied that there were many British Arabs and branded almost all Arabs as 'unfair competition'. Complaints from the Cardiff Poor Law Guardians about the growing cost of poor relief to destitute Arabs added to the clamour for further regulation of the movements of coloured seamen.32 The issue really had its origins in the influx of Arabs to the British mercantile marine in the First World War. Arab seamen had done relatively well out of the high wages and ease of getting ships in the war, and the flow of hopeful recruits continued into the 1920s despite the depressed condition in shipping and the Aliens Restriction Order. Some seamen returned to their homes in the Middle East with accumulated savings from their voyages previously sent back as remittances, and lived for a time at some leisure. The conditions for chain migration had therefore been established, the chief obstacle being the difficulty of getting past the British immigration officers. This was not particularly difficult to do; men refused permission to land simply landed discreetly and faded into the anonimity of dockland. Some might go to South Shields to evade detection and by the same token men landing at South Shields came to Cardiff. Cardiff and Shields gathered the illegally- landed from other ports too. Immigration officers had no power to detain and it was obligatory for a ship's crew to be signed off and paid within 48 hours of the end of the voyage. Another loophole in the 1920 Order was the regulation which required the crew list for coastal shipping to be scrutinized by the immigration officer every six months. Unlike vessels engaged on foreign trade (in which the Board of Trade controlled signing on) there was no compulsion to notify the presence of aliens at each docking. Parts of France and the Low Countries were deemed to be within the coastal trade, and it is from here that entry to Britain was effected. It was claimed that an organized system of migration stretched from Antwerp, Marseilles and Le Havre back to the Red Sea. Arab seamen were smuggled in, often by the bribery of ship's officers, or joined the crew at a continental port. On landing they were taken in by boarding-house keepers who would protect their kinsmen from deportation and the Poor Law Guardians. They hoped to be able to find vessels for the men in order to refund their costs. It was alleged, though not proved, that a flourishing trade in forged PC5s (the statement that a man was acceptable to the joint supply arrangements in the industry, which the NSFU had developed into an instrument for achieving a virtual closed shop) was done in Cardiff's dockland. Bribery for places on ships grew out of this situation as the Arab boarding-house masters found themselves overwhelmed by their compatriots and in danger of bankruptcy. There does seem to have been a genuine movement of people in this manner; it was attested to from many

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parts of the country and seems not to have been entirely a delusion. There is no evidence, however, that this was a vast network. In the early 1920s it was held that most of the coloured men in Cardiff were British citizens. In 1923 the Cardiff police knew of about 40 Arabs who had landed irregularly and said there had not recently been an abnormal increase in the number of Arabs. The NSFU claimed to know of 108 'fresh' Arabs landed during July. Reliable figures for the number of coloured seamen at British ports are difficult to obtain, but those which exist are consistent with elements of this story.33 In 1919 the Cardiff police estimated the unemployed coloured population at the port to be 1,110, of whom 600 were Arabs and Somalis. Of course more coloured men may have been at sea at the time but, in view of the sharp discrimination against them at the end of the war, it is unlikely that there were very many of these. In December 1927 the number of registered coloured seamen in Cardiff was 2,689. The comparison with 1919 is difficult as it is impossible to estimate the number at sea in the former year. In 1930 there were 2,562 registered at Cardiff, of whom 1,102 were ashore and 1,460 at sea. Whether or not there was an actual increase in the coloured population depends upon the unknown of the numbers at sea in 1919. If this were small, there was an absolute increase. Assuming it were equal to 1930 (the figure ashore is almost identical and both were depressed years), the reality was not that the coloured population was actually increasing but that it was being maintained, despite the 1920 Order and despite the repatriation of several hundred men in 1919 and 1921.34 If the population were relatively stable in size, but experiencing substantial turnover (as seems likely) it would explain the otherwise rather puzzling behaviour of the Arab boardinghouse masters. In order to maintain their businesses in a highlysegregated market, they kept replenishing their stock of customers. The authorities, by contrast, had no desire to see the free and easy recruitment policies of the wartime years continue. Then there had been little scrutiny of entrants' origins - labour was needed to keep the world 'safe for democracy'. But in the post-war world the emphasis shifted to the assertion of white supremacy, and origins were to be carefully scrutinized. The call for further restrictions came from many quarters. Police, immigration officers, Poor Law Guardians and the Seamen's Union formed a bizarre alliance of convenience. In 1923 George Henson of the Seamen's Union (formerly an official at Cardiff) suggested repatriation as the solution for this situation; he said British seamen felt aggrieved at being displaced by Arabs after their loyal war service and that Arabs were prepared to bribe and offer violence in order to obtain a position on British ships. Tighter controls were also needed over entry and he wanted to see Lascar articles extended to Arabs. The Cardiff police protested to the Home Office that the local bench did not support its efforts to remove Arabs and that it required strict proof of illegal entry; the police felt that the onus of proof should be on the accused. The bench seemingly applied the normal presumption of innocence and was not aware of the legally-

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differing statuses of British protected persons and British subjects. It was alleged that anyone claiming British nationality was allowed to land. The Immigration Officer at Liverpool also played a part in this situation, though the question of illegal entry was seemingly confined to the Tyne and the Bristol Channel.35 In 1924 the Cardiff Poor Law Guardians assumed a role in the controversy. In October they sent a return of the number of Arabs maintained in the City Lodge since 1921 to the Ministry of Health. 105 men had spent a total of 5,182 days in the Lodge; 73 had been suffering from consumption and 49 of these died. It then drew the moral from the story: In view of the apparent pre-disposition of these persons to Consumption and of the consequent danger to the community and additional cost to the ratepayers entailed by their becoming resident in this country, the Guardians . . . urge that the Minister will institute legislation extending the provisions of the Merchant Shipping Act 1894, so as to make the Masters and owners of vessels responsible for returning them to their native country.36 The Ministry of Health replied that the matter was under consideration by the Home Office, Colonial Office and the Board of Trade. At the same meeting the Guardians endorsed a resolution being circulated by the Chipping Sodbury Union, an indication that the aliens issue was achieving some political prominence: . . . this board views with alarm and apprehension the steady flow of undesirable Aliens into this country from the Continents of Europe and Asia, and is of the opinion that the continuance of such Immigration constitutes a grave menace to the health and employment of the inhabitants of this country. Further we would respectfully urge that the granting of unemployment pay to Aliens after a short residence in this country is a charge on the taxpayer which is unjust and which they can ill afford to pay . . . . Further, this board is of opinion that His Majesty's Government should amend the law which permits the Aliens coming into this country, only allowing those to enter who possess a competency and that the Police be given powers to arrest any and all aliens who it is suspected are not registered, especially in our seaport towns and that immediate steps be taken for their deportation. 37 The Home Office was not prepared to go that far, but mounting pressure and the depression in shipping had some effect. In 1923 at the Board of Trade some of the officials were obviously little inclined to do anything; they pointed out that many of the Arabs were British subjects, that others were settled and married, and that the rest, while aliens, had often helped out in the war when needed and should receive some recognition. In fact

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there was some dispute as to the prevalence of the smuggling-in of Arabs, and some argued that the issue really went back to the war and was not a recent development. 38 When action was taken in 1925 it rode roughshod over the distinctions and sympathy extended by the Board of Trade in 1923. Under a new Aliens Order, all coloured alien seamen were henceforth to be registered with the police and to carry an identity card marked 'SEAMAN' in red ink bearing a photograph and a thumb-print. It was argued that the last was necessary because it was difficult to tell coloured men apart and some more positive means of identification was needed!39 The holder was not a person but an invisible man, a black; only the criminal associations of a thumb-print could give him an identity.40 Whereas it had once been accepted that most of the coloured population in Cardiff were British subjects, now the onus of proof was placed upon the coloured man. The terms of the Aliens Act of 1914 were applied on this matter. The proof required was stringent. Certificates of Nationality issued by British Consuls abroad and similar certificates issued by ships' masters had already been called into question by immigration officers. Birth certificates or passports issued around the time of the First World War were ruled to be unacceptable. None of these, it was argued, was based upon strict enquiry into the status of the bearer - or in the case of birth certificates there was no proof that the holder and the child to which it referred were the same person! Only recently-issued passports were clearly acceptable.41 It was recognized that some British subjects would not be able to prove their status and there was a concern to demonstrate that British protected persons were not British subjects. The result of this action was to change drastically the status of most of the coloured population of Cardiff. From being British subjects they became aliens obliged to report regularly to the police. These tests of British status were set so rigorously that few could meet them. Being black and British had become almost impossible. Two crucial aspects of the recognition of black British subjects in the previous situation disappeared - the permissions to land granted to coloured men signed on in the United Kingdom for a round voyage and for those signed on abroad but domiciled in Britain. It became necessary to have strict proof of nationality - or to be one of those registered under the 1925 Order. Such evidence was also needed for signing on British vessels in foreign trade. Registration was extended to those who could prove residence in April 1925 or had leave to land. Once the coloured population was registered it would be difficult for any other coloured person - British or alien - to land. Black British citizens from the colonies would find it difficult to prove their status and neither could they be registered under the Order. It was, in effect, a stringent measure of immigration control on racist lines. A means of controlling the size of the colonial reserve army in Britain had been found.42 It is important to recognize these intentions in the Order. When the League of Coloured Peoples investigated its application in Cardiff in 1935, they concluded that the police had acted against the letter and the

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spirit of the Order. Certainly they were enthusiastic executants of it and indulged in many dubious practices to compel registration - passports were confiscated on threat of arrest and imprisonment. Some were compelled to accept cards at the end of a voyage by a threat to withold pay. Others were duped by the police. Whether or not this is evidence of a 'complete misapprehension as to the nature of the Act [sic] and the method of applying them'43 is another matter. The police in Cardiff were not told to confiscate old passports and nationality documents and destroy them; they were told that such documents could not be accepted as proof of nationality and that many bogus claims to British nationality were made. A Foreign Office reply to a Cardiff police enquiry was quite specific: . . . it is not now the practice of this office to grant British passports to coloured seamen nor to renew existing passports unless required for a specific purpose, other than that of following their occupation at sea and then only on production of satisfactory evidence of their identity and nationality, As a general rule, therefore, the possession of a British passport issued in London, unless issued or renewed within the past two years should not be regarded as proof of the holder's claim to British nationality. In the specific case enquired upon, a coloured seaman issued with a passport in 1918, the Cardiff police were told to apply the 1925 Order.44 The men affected, of course, protested and the Garveyite journal, The Negro World, publicized their case. The Arabs acting through a solicitor secured some minor modifications in the document issued to them. Some West Indians held out against the new system but were told that it was a measure aimed at the Arabs. There was a grain of truth in this and they were themselves capable of mobilizing to control the Arab boardinghouse masters. After all, domiciled coloured men had no interest in further immigration in a crowded labour market. Some then could accept registration while holding a strong objection to the slur upon their own status. In any case, they had little choice but to comply with registration in order to continue working. A Home Office memorandum claimed that the certificates gave coloured seamen a definite status; this may have been an allusion to the fact that they could initially be given to people without leave to land as long as there was no reason to suspect irregularity of entry. If there was any latitude in this, it did not last long and the Cardiff police required strict evidence of eligibility to land, otherwise registration was refused and discharge documents marked accordingly to prevent registration being obtained elsewhere.45 The police were still concerned that coloured men slipped through the net, by registering in areas where the scheme was less stringently enforced or by working in the British coasting trade or from foreign vessels which were not covered by the Order. In 1928 the scheme was

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modified so that registration could be obtained at only a limited number of ports - those with substantial coloured populations and hence experience of strict enforcement. Any coloured man seeking registration was referred to one of the designated ports. The police remained concerned that the local bench accepted the word of coloured seamen that they had received permission to land and thus became eligible for registration. Again the police wanted the onus of proof shifted to the coloured man.46 Chief Constable Wilson appeared - temporarily at least satisfied with the actions: T h e effect of the order had been most beneficial, and it had put an end in Cardiff to the racial troubles between the white and coloured population which had at one time been serious.'47 Despite the draconian nature of the registration scheme, the state, local and national, had not finished with coloured seamen and with Arabs and Somalis in particular. There were still allegations of bribery by Arab boarding-house masters, and the Seamen's Union continued to fight a campaign against what it saw as the increasing tendency for Arabs to displace white men in the stokeholds of British ships. Corruption was blamed and the crucial context was the onset of the depression following the 'Great Crash' of 1929. In December of that year a deputation from the National Union of Seamen (NUS) called on the Board of Trade, attended by MPs from the ports with coloured populations. Arthur Henderson Jr. Labour MP for Cardiff South (which included Butetown), was one of these. It was alleged that 57 per cent of the firemen shipped in Britain were Arabs or other coloured men and that this, along with the introduction of oil-fired and motor vessels, was the cause of unemployment amongst white British seamen. The by-now standard accusations of smuggling, crimping and traffic in discharges were made; Henderson stressed what he termed the 'social menace' of the assembly of a 'halfcaste' population in Cardiff. A stringent series of measures was proposed; re-registration of the coloured population, deportation of those illegally landed, strict enforcement of language tests, tight control of boarding houses and cafes, photographs and fingerprints in the discharge books and a committee of inquiry.48 The campaign continued into the following year and Seamen's Union Assistant General Secretary George Gunning visited Antwerp together with the MP for Hull in order to see a rota system of registration in operation. It was argued that this scheme had eliminated crimping in Antwerp and that similar schemes worked effectively at Hamburg and Rotterdam. 49 A similar system was introduced at some British ports, including Cardiff, in August 1930. The rota had been agreed between the Shipping Federation and the National Union of Seamen during the summer of that year. Arabs and Somalis were to be issued with a pink card, on proof of being legally in Britain, the card being numbered and furnished with a photograph. When a crew of Arabs or Somalis was required, priority was to be given to the lowest number on the register who was recorded as unemployed (it was necessary for the men to report every 14 days to the Joint Supply Office to register that fact), unless the

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crew previously employed were re-engaged. On being engaged, the old card was to be surrendered and a new one bearing a different number would be supplied when the man returned to port, and the procedure repeated. The officers of the vessels had the power to determine the nationality of the crew.50 The scheme had two objectives, from the white seamen's point of view. First, it imposed a stringent test on the legality of the Arab or Somali's domicile in Britain, and might therefore be expected to check the il-legal immigration. Second, by means of the system of numbering it was intended to rule out bribery by particular boarding-house masters. The seamen argued that Arabs offered unfair competition in this manner and that this was the reason for their growing presence on British ships. Ending bribery would, in their view, ensure more jobs for white crews. Many Arabs in Cardiff deeply resented the scheme and there were violent demonstrations over its implementation. The Arabs and Somalis were very slow to register and in a disturbance outside the Shipping Federation Office in August 1930 they were said to have exclaimed 'we not register and we kill anyone that do'. Violence took place against those Arabs who broke rank and registered. Up to 200 men, many of them armed with sticks and umbrellas, were held at bay by the police. Apparently there were other disturbances in Loudon Square when men rushed in from Sophia Street, Maria Street and Loudon Square and began fighting with other coloured men. The men involved were tried at the Old Bailey and harsh sentences of up to 18 months' hard labour were imposed, with a recommendation for deportation. 51 The anger of the Arabs at the scheme was probably the consequence of the growing problem of destitution which faced many of them. Boardinghouse masters had been keeping their compatriots for long periods and refusing on principle to apply for poor relief. But the situation was clearly becoming desperate for them and, towards the end of 1930, principles were having to be swallowed. In the summer of 1930 it became apparent that increasing numbers of Arabs and Somalis were on the verge of destitution. In July there were 60 members of the Somali tribe Warsangeli in Cardiff, all of them out of work, and some for as long as twelve months. It was the practice of this group for every man who completed a voyage to pay £1 into a fund to assist the needy; at one time there had been £400 in the fund but the depression exhausted it. More informal mutual aid also took place. People were very reluctant to apply for poor relief, which was regarded as a charity. Almost two months later, the Chief Constable of Cardiff thought: . . . it is becoming of increasing importance to these one-time nomadic Arabs and Somalis to acquire a domicile here so that, in due course, they may, when unemployed, become eligible for unemployment benefits.52 A few days later the matter was before the Public Assistance Committee.

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There were said to be 2,000 coloured seamen unemployed in the city by this time, but the discussion centred on the 250 or so Arabs being maintained by the Public Assistance Committee. The City Council was eager to shift its responsibility for these men and considered that it was an unfair burden imposed upon it. Of course, it was not; seamen were the town's raison d'être and any port with an extensive foreign trade was bound to have an immigrant population of sailors. It was no more unfair than the number of miners and steelworkers who were on the poor rates in Merthyr. The Public Assistance Committee saw things otherwise and explored two possible avenues of escape with government departments one was the repatriation of men who were chargeable, the other was a plea for special assistance with the problem. In neither respect did they move very far in the direction that they intended, but this was not for want of trying. With repatriation the situation was complicated by the differing statuses of the men. Those born in the settlement of Aden were the responsibility of the India Office. Those from the surrounding protectorates were the responsibility of the Colonial Office, which apparently had no funds for repatriation. Aliens could be deported if they committed a criminal offence. Africans could be repatriated at the shipowner's expense; but this did not apply if the man was last signed on at a British port. Neither deportation nor repatriation was freely available anyway. The former required an offence to have been committed, the latter the consent of the man, if a British subject. The dispute about a special grant dragged on until November when the Ministry of Health firmly reminded the City Council of its statutory duties to pay relief. The issue had been taken up by Cardiff's MPs including two Labour members Arthur Henderson Jr. and J.E. Edmunds. The whole issue won a brief notoriety; Arabs and Somalis were said to be sleeping rough and to have refused the offer of shelter in the City Lodge. Investigation proved the story to be unfounded and the rejection of the workhouse was based upon a desire to be able to look for jobs. The press and the Seamen's Union played the issue up - 'CASUAL WARD REPUGNANT TO ARABS' screamed the headlines, and there were accusations that the men supposedly sleeping rough were a potential source of crime. The numbers of Arabs receiving relief was greatly exaggerated figures of 600 were quoted in the press and a bill to the ratepayers of £200 per week. The true figures were nearer 250 and £60 respectively. In the end the Public Assistance Committee had to bow to the inevitable and provide relief: 5/- a week was paid for each man to the boarding-house master, after strict investigation. It was impossible to offer the workhouse as an alternative as the main City Lodge was congested and the Ely Lodge was largely full of mental patients.53 The City Council accepted its fate with a bad grace and took proceedings against a few alien Arabs and Somalis for deportation; early in the following year it was decided to take no further action of this kind. Apparently the bench was reluctant to deport and presumably the intention of the deportations was to discourage any more relief appli-

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cations. The Arabs had been very reluctant to apply anyway, and the inquiries into the deportation procedures had the effect of making the boarding-house masters assume responsibility for the men involved. Deportation proceedings had proved to be a means of allowing the Public Assistance Committee to limit its responsibilities. By 1933 very few coloured men were being relieved - only 73 aliens and 49 British subjects. A proposal to increase the scale of relief and pay the same to all British coloured men was overturned and the matter left to the discretion of the relief committees. An apponent of the new scales remarked 'You will have them all here' and much was made of the fact that South Shields offered the workhouse and not outdoor relief. Cardiff's 'generosity' was seen as a reason for its large black population. This theory hardly holds water; many black men were supported by the boarding masters and few by the Public Assistance Committee. Cllr. George Steele's observation that: These men were brought to Cardiff by other people in order to make profits for them and the council must not forget that they were Britishers' went unheeded and no 'open invitation' to coloured men to come to Cardiff was to be extended, though representations were to be made to the government on the issue.54 In 1937 the UAB reduced the relief paid to coloured single men who were living communally. Cllr. Tom Llewelyn who was very active in unemployed movements (and, by 1939, Chairman of the Colonial Defence Association) observed: 'it appeared to be an effort to starve the coloured men to death or drive them out of the country'. On this occasion a protest was sent to the Ministry of Labour. Two years later the Public Assistance Committee recommended an increase in the outdoor relief scales for coloured seamen. The previous week's Picture Post had castigated the city for paying from 12s. to 15s. per week to the single coloured unemployed and 17s. to white men. At Newport, both got 17s.55 Further harsh action marked the early part of the 1930s. The Cardiff police claimed that their vigorous action, in association with the immigration officers in the early part of 1930, had staunched the flow of coloured men to Cardiff. Prosecutions had been instituted against men who were illegally landed and deportations effected. The boarding-house masters and their agents, it was claimed, had realized that it was futile to struggle any further against the law.56 The Seamen's Union continued to advocate the claims of white seamen in particular. In November 1934, the NUS and the Transport and General Workers' Union (TGWU) established a joint committee to press their members' claims with the government. Plans for a subsidy on merchant shipping were well advanced when it demanded that ships receiving the subsidy should employ only British crews or strong resistance would be offered to the Merchant Shipping Act, finally passed in 1935. The threat was effective. Coloured men who had been registered under the Aliens' Order of 1925 found themselves at a further disadvantage. Shipowners who wanted to enjoy the government subsidy on shipping refused to employ coloured men.

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The whole issue led to a mobilization of the coloured population, for once united in opposition. The League of Coloured Peoples sent representatives to Cardiff and a great deal of political pressure was exerted upon shipowners and the Tramp Shipping Subsidy Committee. There was also a drive for the regaining of British nationality which had been lost by the 1925 Order. Within four years the number of men registered declined from 2,469 to 709. Eventually the regulations for the operation of the subsidy were changed. British subjects were to be first in the pecking order, and subjects of British protectorates and mandates next. Old employees of foreign nationality who had been employed by the shipowner for at least five years brought up the rear. As long as a company instituted this policy it would not be debarred from the subsidy. The following year British protected persons were treated as British subjects. The difficulties did not end here. Many coloured men found it very difficult to obtain proof of identity, especially West Africans, Somalis and Arabs. Naturalization certificates cost £9 and were out of reach of many who had been unemployed, though arrangements for paying for these after jobs had been obtained via the Seamen's Savings Bank seem to have been made. The events of 1935 also brought to light the circumstances of the implementation of the Alien (Coloured Seamen) Restriction Order ten years previously. By 1936 there were statements in the press regarding a shortage of seamen - engineers, skilled men and white able-bodied seamen were in short supply. The racial qualification was ominous; despite the revival of shipping in the late 1930s, black men continued to bear the brunt of unemployment. A political victory of a kind had been won in 1935-36, but it could not entirely remove discrimination which was deep-rooted within Cardiff and Britain generally.57 In order to appreciate this more fully, it is necessary to examine the frequent outbursts of moral outrage with which the black community was often faced. Moral Panics Moral panics were nothing new in Cardiff, and they usually concentrated attention upon the Butetown area: the whole of the 1860s and 1870s were marked by a reform crusade; the mid-1890s by concern over the problems of 'Darker Cardiff, and in the Edwardian period desperate Christians tried to hold back the tide of secular leisure by proposing severe police action. From the passing of the Welsh Sunday Closing Act of 1881 there had been temperance and police campaigns against shebeens, or illegal drinking clubs.58 The novelty of the period around the First World War was that the campaigns took on an increasingly racist turn; coloured people, formerly seen as an exotic aside, and usually treated in a patronizing manner, took on an aspect of moral danger. The Victory Crusade of the Cardiff and District Citizen's Union had played its part in creating the conditions for riot in 1919, as had the Bute Street World's Fair, closed in 1918 and seen by the moralists as the centre of immorality-

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by which they increasingly meant the association of white women and coloured men.59 Their campaigns continued into the post-war period. The Fair re-opened in 1921 and there was a flurry of protest to the Watch Committee from F. de Courcy Hamilton, the Cardiff Free Church Council, the United Sisterhoods of Grangetown and district and the ministers of the Free Churches of Cardiff. But perhaps flurry is the wrong word; the protests were the efforts of nonconformist groups that had been associated in the Cardiff and District Citizen's Union. Presumably they all wore their separate hats for effect. In the event they were to be disappointed and the Watch Committee could only reply that it had no power to close the Fair, but that the police would ensure that it was properly regulated. On a related issue they had already been overtaken by the St. James Branch of the Church of England Men's Society which protested about the employment of women under the age of 30 in seamen's boarding houses. It was frequent for racist concerns to be linked with a view of the need to protect the innocent and inexperienced - women came into this category. Racism was closely allied with sexism; the magic age of female responsibility was presumably linked with the age at which some women gained the suffrage in 1918. On this particular issue the Chief Constable thought that there was no chance of obtaining appropriate legislation.6() There was some bickering between council committees on similar issues; the Watch Committee wanted more frequent inspection of seamen's lodging houses; the Health and Port Sanitary Committee made the tart reply that inspection was frequent enough in their opinion.61 In the next few years the activities of the Chief Constable of Cardiff (as far as Butetown was concerned) seemed to have been confined to the regulation of the entry of coloured seamen. It was in 1927 that he made a vain attempt to return to the moral offensive. In September of that year he wrote to the Home Office to draw attention to the 'immoral' goings-on in certain cafes owned largely by Maltese men in Bute Street and Bute Lane. He saw the cafes as a new development of the 1920s; the Licensing Act of 1921 had removed the requirement for refreshment houses holding an excise licence (that is, not a licence to sell alcohol, but one issued with no control over the character of the licensee) to close when public houses closed. Refreshment houses' trade picked up around 10.00 p.m. when the pubs closed and as far as the police were concerned they were merely a cover for immoral' goings-on - illegal drinking, dancing and prostitution. From 1921 almost all the convictions for illegal sale of intoxicants were in Bute Street cafes whereas previously they had been outside this area. Those convicted of such offences could resume their trade without hindrance. The police saw this area as a blot on a 'sober and well conducted City and Port'. By 1930 40 out of the 46 cafes which concerned the police were in Bute Street; their soft drinks and token amounts of food for sale were camouflage for other activities. The Chief Constable was adamant that the organization of prostitution from these cafes was a new trend and that formerly prostitutes had run businesses for themselves.

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Others held that the Maltese had merely taken over businesses once run by Italians, Greeks or Chinese, and it seems unlikely that they had invented pimping! In 1927 Wilson suggested that orders should be made under the Aliens Act to control these cafes, largely by making licensing hours apply to them. The Home Office declined to do this, on the grounds that the Aliens Order was not the appropriate vehicle and that existing powers should be tried and exhausted first. There the matter lay, apart from a concerted police campaign of prosecutions, until just over a year later when Mr F. de Courcy Hamilton again penned one of his familiar epistles to the Watch Committee asking for an enquiry into the conditions of the area and making allegations about immorality. This gave the Chief Constable the opening he had been looking for. Early in January 1929 he presented a report to the Watch Committee about the cafes and the general problem which they presented in his eyes. An assault upon the whole coloured community had been undertaken. 62 How did a problem with some mainly Maltese cafes become an indictment of a community? Maltese were clearly not coloured aliens, not even under the generous terms of the 1925 Order (Wilson argued they relied upon their freedom from deportation to run the illicit businesses). Despite attempts to register them under the provisions of the 1925 Order, it had been ruled that it did not apply to them. On 23 January 1929, however, the Western Mail's headline of the story screamed 'COLOURED PESTS'. The connection was, in fact, simple in the eyes of the Chief Constable; the cafes were the places where coloured men and white women associated for immoral purposes. They had replaced the Bute Street World's Fair as the local abode of the devil. Above the cafes the living accommodation was rented out to white women who associated with coloured seamen who were in port and the assistants in the cafes did not show due discrimination; They ogle, and dance with, the male frequenters, black or white is immaterial, and invariably adjourn to another part of the premises.' From this union, 'half-caste' children emerged, children who were seen as unemployable. Particular concern was expressed in the ensuing debate about half-caste girls. The boys at least could go to sea; for the girls there was nothing, but the obvious implication of the whole issue was that they would drift into domestic service in the lodging houses and hence into prostitution. The Chief Constable was nothing if not forthright in his views: The coloured seamen who live in our midst observe our laws for the good rule and government of the community. They are not, however, imbued with our moral code, and have not assimilated our conventions. They come into contact with the female sex of the white race, and their progeny are half-caste, with the vicious hereditary taint of their parents. The Legislature has not taken steps to prevent or penalise relations

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between the white and coloured races, and this is the crux of the whole question — 63 However he also thought that the Maltese were not the only group involved in this trade or similar ones: A number of British West Indians and West Africans, I regret to state, are men who dislike work. They are dissolute, thieves, inveterate gamesters, the associates of prostitutes and strongly suspected of living on their immoral earnings. The Somalis are truculent and vicious, but a fairly intelligent race. The West Africans known as 'Kroo Boys' are of an inferior order and almost primitive in their habits. This attack on moral standards was linked with the campaigns to limit the size of the black population, as a later statement of the Chief Constable indicated: 'We have from 600 to 700 of our white seamen out of employment and drawing the dole in the port, yet these men are allowed to come here.' M In the City Council's discussion of the report on 22 January 1929, the issues of 'immorality' and immigration were merged together and several councillors saw it as their role to articulate discontent and to press the government for legislation. T h e report had had a good deal of publicity, thank goodness, and that might have some deterrent effect and help to remove the pests from which the docks area suffered.'*5 The Chief Constable also emphasized the danger of turbulence in the area, because of what he saw as the deep-seated hostility between coloured men, and the ever-present danger that this could flare into actual violence. Other participants in the discussion took an undue interest in the use of automatic pianos in the cafes and thought the police should make every effort to regulate them. Music was, however, illegal only if the proprietor provided it, rather than the customer. Poor Wilson, frustrated at every turn, could not determine who had put the penny in the slot! Frustration made him resourceful, and something of an internationalist in his limited way. He thought Cardiff could learn a thing or two from French action to squeeze coloured men out of Marseilles and Le Havre, but when it came to the issue of 'illicit sexual bonding' he soared even wider afield. By April he had discovered that they regulated things better in the Union of South Africa; obviously he was a cock-a-hoop, as it was believed in Britain that legislation on such matters was not practicable. The Boers pointed the way to racial purity by the passing of the Immorality Act of 1927 which prohibited sexual relations between Europeans and natives, on pain of a long term of imprisonment. The act was so important, in his view, that he appended a copy to his report. He clearly saw himself as a tribune of the white race: The day may come when public opinion will awake to the fact that our race has become leavened with colour strain to such an extent that calls for action. Someone must have the courage to take the initiative; explain the position, and strike a warning note.

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Chief Constable Wilson was prepared to forfeit the narrowly defined role of a policeman and assume the burdens of leadership.66 The black population did not bear this attack willingly and the West Indians convened a public meeting of protest which sent a letter to the editor of the Western Mail. Their reply clearly recognized the labelling which was going on: 'We, reviewing the statements in your and the contemporary papers do realize that the statements are far-fetched and tend to create in the reader's mind ideas not in keeping with the realities of the situtation . . . the . . . report conveys the impression that . . . coloured men are immoral according to a specific law of nature.' This was followed by an argument that, since the war, West Indian crime had declined and by complaints about discrimination in Britain. Blame was to be laid elsewhere: We are not in any way responsible for the infamy here; the exigencies of the times and the white man's greed for gold have created the atmosphere; the coloured man's weakness for spending and pleasure has more or less laid him open to be inveigled into supporting by his patronage the various attractions got up for money-getting. Why then should the victim be elevated to the plane of an originator?67 Delegations and widespread national press coverage of the original report ultimately achieved very few of Wilson's aims. It was left for the City Council to try to do something for the half-caste population. The Cardiff Juvenile Employment Committee took up the issue and in the course of doing so behaved remarkably like a nineteenth-century charity. The problem was partly that there were very few religious and social agencies working in Butetown, and when the Committee found itself making little headway in the area of employment, it concentrated upon producing what it called an improved social atmosphere in the area. An evening institute, a play centre, and an Old Scholar's Association were rapidly established and, within a few years, it was claimed that the Juvenile Employment Committee's greatest success in organizing leisure facilities was in the South Ward. It admitted failure in regard to employment and saw little prospect of this improving while the depression persisted. Originally employers were blamed for a prejudice against employing anyone from Butetown; later the more 'sophisticated' version emerged - the employers were not the problem, it was the white girls who worked in the factories who were to blame. This may seem like a rare example of the City Council's benevolence to the coloured population, but we should halt before rushing into that suggestion; organized leisure as a counter-attraction to vice, and seeking respectable employment for girls seen to be in particular danger from prostitution, was a strategy wellknown to nineteenth-century charities. The City Council was blowing the cobwebs off a well-used instrument of social control.68 Hapless women abounded in the whole issue of moral controversy; the Chief Constable thought some women gullible enough to go through a

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form of marriage with coloured men; everyone involved wanted to prevent young women and coloured men from associating with each other in the boarding houses. Tender feelings were extended for the plight of the 'half-caste' girls. The image of the aggressive, sexually-insatiable coloured man ('uncurbed sexual passion dominating their actions' said Chief Constable Wilson, with his customary delicacy) fed off a view of women as gullible, yielding and easily-led. Adventurers in the docks were always amazed when told by white women that they married coloured men because they treated them with more respect than white men did. It was one of the few favourable aspects of 'aliens' chararacters' which white public opinion was frequently forced to concede.69 The moral panic had clearly served many interests. The police were able to vent some of their anger in failing to control the coloured population as closely as they would have liked, and they could use the incident to rally suport for further tough measures. The National Union of Seamen found the 'depraved' character of the black population another agitational weapon in their campaign. Late in 1929 they were referring back to the Chief Constable's report and using it to justify their campaign for the rota. No matter what the actual evidence - some police accusations against a few Maltese and others - it was all grist to the mill. The seamen were said to be campaigning against Arab boarding-house masters; these had not been implicated in the moral panic of 1929 but they were damned anyway. In the campaign the cafes were constantly associated with crimping. Coloured men in perfectly 'respectable' (in the terms of the day) marriages with white women could also be drawn in. It didn't matter that they were often held to be good husbands; it was their children who were the essence of the problems - they weakened the white breeding stock and provided a potential source of further immorality. Social workers were also drawn into the cause and Muriel E. Fletcher, with culpable naivety, reproduced parts of the Chief Constable's report under the guise of social investigation, though she did consult other sources too. Fundamentally, she endorsed the view of the police, Immigration Office, social workers and teachers that 'half-caste' children constituted a problem group which could not be absorbed in local employment and society. Her report ended by quoting the view of the Juvenile Employment Bureau that 'no opportunity should be lost of supporting any measure which aims at reducing the number of unions between coloured men and white women'.70 All in all, the panic was an excuse for the tightening of controls in 1930 and paved the way for the draconian denial of poor relief during the depression; black men had already been branded as work-shy. The successors to the Poor Law system needed no further reason to withdraw or withhold relief. It conveniently blurred the distinctions between vice and respectability, between British protected persons, British subjects and aliens, between settled, regularly-landed men and illegal immigrants. In the face of economic catastrophe there was to be no room for analytical niceties. The exclusion of any black man, any competitor for jobs, was 4

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seen as a victory for white men. It was for white men rather than for British subjects; there was relatively little complaint about alien white seamen. The seamens' campaigns of the late nineteenth century had evaporated, and until the 1935 Act they do not seem to have suffered unusual discrimination; new scapegoats filled that particular need.71 A brief postscript to the 1929 panic is some indication of its possible effectiveness. The next year a number of Maltese seamen domiciled at the South Wales ports complained that they could not get ships because of discrimination resulting from the Chief Constable's report of 1929; officials in the shipping offices made disparaging remarks about them. Chief Constable Wilson was unabashed: there were perfectly respectable Maltese in Cardiff, but some of their compatriots had well deserved the infamy heaped upon them; they couldn't get jobs because of the slump and his hands were clean. But surely there was at least one damned spot that could not be washed away?72 The next panic over Butetown took place in 1935 and shows some important differences from the earlier event, though some are more apparent than real. First of all, the occasion was the publication of a report of the British Social Hygiene Council and the British Council for the Welfare of the Mercantile Marine, which paid some attention to Cardiff and was not obviously inspired by local moralists and Chief Constables. Second, the panic coincided with the Butetown struggle against the 1935 Act. The variation in press coverage and the size of the headlines over the two issues is striking and provides an insight into the manner of articulating moral panics. Third, a black community now in the process of organizing itself was more able to answer back to the allegations. The first intimation of the report in the Cardiff press occurred in late June and the race issue was entirely absent from newspaper comment. It was noted that the 'outstanding feature is that without exception the mercantile docks appear to be embedded in very poor or slum areas and there is a general air of neglect in the administration of such districts'. The report continued in that general unexceptionable tone: there was an absence of open spaces, good restaurants and decent and legitimate recreations but generally seamen's lodging houses were decently organized and clean. At around that time, there were the stirrings of a movement for the general improvement of conditions in ports and, in South Wales, it was being said that there was a need for a Seamen's Welfare Fund, parallel with that which existed for miners.73 That tendency was greatly increased by a new concern for seamen's welfare during the Second World War. When the report re-emerged in the Cardiff press almost two weeks later, the tone was very different. The occasion was a conference in London, and the headlines mark out the difference: 'PROBLEM OF CARDIFF'S COLOURED POPULATION / RAPID GROWTH OF HALF-CASTE POPULATION / Seamen "encouraged" to live in idleness'. The emphasis now was not upon conditions but on TYPES WHO ARE A DANGER'. 74

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Since early in the year the League of Coloured Peoples had been fighting for the cause of Cardiff's black population. They conducted an enquiry in April and during the month of June they were active in collecting material and pressing claims. Perhaps this had some bearing on the new presentation of the report ; it may also be that Captain Richardson, the author, himself chose to emphasize these aspects when given a public platform. But the Western Mail's outburst was clearly based on the report rather than the conference and aimed not simply at increasing sales with salacious stories but, as a particularly vicious editorial pointed out, at instituting changes in policy.75 The exact connection can probably never be known but it was a fact that, while the black community was struggling to launch a public campaign to improve its employment prospects, it was faced with a simultaneous assault on its morals. Because of its organization it was able to respond, but another well-publicized injection of fuel on to the fires of discrimination certainly did little to aid its cause. The assaults on Butetown's morals were more sweeping and violent. Richardson had been going about his business since the previous September, but his report was not just a fortuitous outside intervention. His data had to come from somewhere and, though he used his own observations, and doubtless the general views of Captains RN (retd.), he was clearly fed with material by the Cardiff local authorities. At some points Richardson used phrases which corresponded quite closely with those of the Chief Constable in 1929, though his tone is more restrained and he was more inclined to be patronizing - stressing the inability of coloured men to cope with the demand of 'civilization' - as opposed to Wilson's stress on hereditary viciousness. In 1929 the Chief Constable of Cardiff had been provided by a local resident with a stage on which to act; he was now willing to return the compliment. The 1935 report put the familar emphasis upon the halfcaste population and accused seamen of living in idleness; it was alleged that men with large families could draw more in unemployment benefit than they earned from the sea. There was a new stress upon disease. Emphasis upon venereal disease clearly chimed with earlier accounts of depravity in the area, but the radius of its impact was now held to be greater. It was not just Cardiff that was afflicted but the neighbouring proletariat flooding into Cardiff for rugby internationals and extending their celebrations into Bute Street cafes. Of the venereal disease cases treated in the Seamen's Hospital in Cardiff 88 per cent were alleged to have originated abroad and 50 per cent of the cases in the surrounding area were seen as being traceable to Bute Street cafes. But it was not sailortown which was at fault, it was black people. In considering the numbers of black seamen in Cardiff it is interesting to note that the expenditure on the treatment of venereal disease in that city is the second largest of any city in the United Kingdom, and that the total population is barely a quarter of a million. But this was not simply interest; it was accusation. The international and

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imperial connection was seen as a danger to the health of South Wales in general. In their excusable ignorance and deprived as they are of their own women, their own amusements, their own leaders, and living in circumstances and in a climate to which they are in every way illadapted, they constitute as much a danger to themselves as they do to the rest of the community. Tuberculosis makes a heavy toll from them and from their half-caste children. The new prominence given to TB was the final insult since it was seen as the result of physical inadequacies of coloured races. There was no mention of grossly-inadequate housing or miserly or non-existent poor relief. Coloured seamen who stayed in bed all day to keep warm did not make good copy. Nor did the biting sea winds that raked Butetown and found every draughty crevice to nestle in. 'Half-caste' girls were singled out once again and seen as disinclined to discipline and routine work; their defect was clearly seen as a lack of racial purity and those disinclined to routine work were on the slippery slope to low life. As with any prolonged moralizing episode, the lesson had to be drawn at some point. This was done simply, directly and with a cavalier disregard for fact in the report: ' . . . life even in our sordid dockland neighbourhoods is preferable to life in their native conditions and surroundings, they elect to remain if we will suffer them to do so - and in reality we encourage them'. The encouragement was microscopic, if it existed - it certainly does not appear in the historical record. It was, however, the editor of the Western Mail who took it upon himself to prove the real lesson. His attack was simple, straightforward and powerful. It should be quoted fully, THE COLOURED MAN IN OUR MIDST! The problem of the coloured population in our towns, raised in a report to be submitted to a conference on the welfare of the mercantile marine in London today, demands immediate Governmental action. Not only the social amenities of a white man's country, but the best interests of the coloured people themselves are in issue. The report lays particular emphasis on the conditions in Cardiff, which 'has before it a social problem which cannot be solved'. This admission makes some act of legislation or administration in Whitehall all the more imperative. The question of repatriation naturally arises. We are familiar with the argument that inasmuch as the white man has staked claims in a black man's country, the black man is entitled to settle wherever he chooses in the Empire. That is to ignore the clash of civilizations and ethical standards a thousand years apart, in which the gravitational pull may become as powerful to lower the one as to raise the other.

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The coloured man is not a coloniser, and we are not inclined to extend the ethnological experiment of cross-breeding which has made the problem of the half-caste girls one of the most heartbreaking facing our social workers. These girls are 'characteristically disinclined to discipline and routine work' states the report. In Cardiff alone there are at least 400 half-caste children up to the age of fourteen. The number is increasing rapidly because so many seamen are out of work and living on shore - 'in idleness but not in want'. Their way is made easy by the dole system. A coloured man out of work marries, begets a family and may receive more money from the public purse than if he went to sea. This 'easy money' manner of life is not unknown among our own people; we do not know by what principle in sociology or civics we are impelled to put a premium on aggravating a problem which menaces the moral and physical well-being of the city. There is no room for sentimentality in this matter. Let him who pleads the justice of the coloured man's settlement among us read the report's reference to venereal disease and the heavy toll of tuberculosis among our guests. Many of them are citizens of the British Empire; many did fine work in the War. Neither of these considerations should blind us that they do not belong to the social system we have evolved in these islands. Repatriation may involve some hardships, and it is our obligation to make it easy for them to return to their homelands, where we will continue to carry the 'white man's burden'. We can no longer tolerate that burden on our doorstep. Racist statements were rarely so well articulated and clear. There is a definite tone of attack being the best means of defence. Contrary arguments, and particularly the kinds of arguments that the League of Coloured Peoples would make, are anticipated and dismissed as sentimentality. Fear of a black organization may well have been an ingredient, and one, like hanging, that concentrated the mind. Half-castes, the dole, disease were all rolled in together and repatriation seen as the magic solution. In a sense this vital piece is an articulation of much that was implicit and explicit in official attitudes of the inter-war period, and a positive statement of the need for repatriation. The denial of the need for any separate policy for British subjects tore away a veil of hypocrisy that had hung for too long. So many campaigners - the seamen, the police would back away when confronted, and stress that they were only referring to the illegal immigrant, the immoral brothel-keeper, the rotten apples in any barrel. Settled men and British subjects were excluded from attack in this view. The editor of the Western Mail had no such compunction. He revealed the issue to be quite simply race; any coloured person was undesirable and inferior in his eyes. He expressed what others only acted upon.

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What is missing from the 1935 controversy is any mention of competition between blacks and whites for jobs. With the advent of the black campaign against the Merchant Shipping Act it was perhaps too difficult to do so, but the greater emphasis given to the supposedly 'work-shy' was a more than adequate substitute. Black people were not working because they were lazy, but they were no longer taking the bread out of the Britishers' mouths. Not even the Western Mail could say that. If the press anticipated action from the black community it was not to be disappointed. Many replies were made to the allegations. The League of Coloured Peoples and missionaries planted in Butetown were able to articulate the community's anger at the report. Immorality was denied, as were the charges of living in idleness on the dole; the scamper to take parts in 'Sanders of the River', then being filmed in London, was cited as contrary evidence. Others went to sea despite having large families and the possibility of higher benefits than wages. Respectability and the creation of small places of worship behind houses in Bute Street were given some prominence. But it was Dr Harold Moody, President of the League of Coloured Peoples, who gave the editor of the Western Mail a sharp lesson in international politics. He began by asserting racial equality and pointing out the racial animosity faced by coloured people in Great Britain, but added The question of repatriation as a means of dealing with the situation, can only arise in the minds of those who have taken a very superficial view of the case, because it does not take much imagination to picture the grave Empire crisis which would arise if a population of discontented men who had imbibed some of the extreme views served up to them during an unprecedented period of depression were suddenly to be dumped upon the unsophisticated people who now inhabit some of our loyal British colonies. After this telling shot, he pressed home the attack: the Englishman was himself a product of cross-breeding and the white inhabitants of sailortowns were, on good authority, more prone to venereal disease than coloured men. And so the debate passed on. In the original attack there are few passages which command assent, but one of them might be: 'Sailortown in Cardiff is the dumping ground for classes and types of people that the up-town community decline to have as neighbours.' We must hastily make the vital qualification that white Cardiff declined to have any coloured people as its neighbours. From the beginning they had been labelled as undesirable and tolerated only in the dockland area. Only in Butetown, and at higher rents than prevailed in the rest of the city, could they be housed. If they ventured into the city centre they were liable to discrimination in public places. In 1936 the Rev. Stanley Watson observed: There is always the spectre of the colour bar; present at every turn, and of course often imagined where it does not exist.' Public authorities also played their part in the corralling of the coloured population; the style ol

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policing in the 1919 riots had its impact on the social geography of the city, and in the inter-war period the tendency was continued by other means. The first occasion came in 1925 and was inspired by the Board of Trade, though the City Council responded with alacrity. The eagle-eyed bureaucrats had spotted a loophole in the Cardiff seamen's lodging house bylaws. It was pointed out that an Arab who had been ashore for more than one month ceased to be a seaman for the purposes of the act and could therefore be accommodated anywhere within the city. The problem was that 'this places difficulties in the way of the necessary supervision of this class of seamen'. Cardiff City Council could not fairly be said to be blind to such duties and amended the by-law to cover anyone who normally followed a maritime calling (apart from masters, mates and engineers who were not in need of stringent social control). Arabs were henceforth to be even more stringently confined to Butetown, for only there would licences for seamen's lodging houses be granted.76 It is fairly clear that this was a general policy of the City Council. In 1936 the Western Mail announced, without demur, that: It is a well known fact that it had always been the aim of the corporation to segregate the cosmopolitan area covered by Bute Street from the city itself, and occupiers of business premises in Hayes-Bridge road and the vicinity are opposed to any of the coloured population encroaching on the city end of Bute Street. The boundary was very precisely delineated and from 1936 to 1938 it became a point of some political controversy within the city. The issue arose when some houses inhabited by coloured people in Butetown were condemned as part of the housing schemes of the decade. The Council had a duty to rehouse them, but the location of the housing was a tricky problem; clearly the corporation wanted to maintain its existing definition of racial boundaries, but finding a suitable site near the rest of the coloured population in the long-built up area of Butetown proved to be impossible. After considering many possible sites, it was decided that a site near Crichton Street (within Butetown, but a few hundred yards nearer the city centre than the bulk of the coloured population) was preferable; the alternative was to allow black people on to a housing estate and that was considered impossible. It was decided to build maisonettes for the 14 families involved. It was, of course, argued that the people themselves desired to stay in the area and that it was easier for men to get a ship if they were nearby. Given the discrimination and resentment which faced black people in Cardiff, that may have been true. But what is of most interest is the furore that the decision produced. Petitions were organized against the new buildings and a manufacturing firm employing a hundred women in the area threatened to leave the city if the scheme went through. The siting was clearly of importance and discrimination so tight that a minute redrawing of the boundaries was enough to occasion protests, but it was not the only issue. A suitably anonymous 'R. Aitpayer' wrote in protest:

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It is the intention of the Cardiff City Council to erect flats on the vacant plot bordered by Bute Street and Wharf Street at a cost of £25,000, the object of this being to provide accommodation for coloured people . . . [he found inconsistency in the actions of a body which] at one minute changes the name of a main throughfare in order to raise its tone, and a little later decides to house coloured people within a stone's throw of it. For this individual, it was a matter not simply of defending the city centre but of spending money on improving the lives of coloured people anywhere in the city. Such opposition apparently had its effect upon the City Council which dragged its feet on the issue. Over two years after the scheme was first mooted, the Council was being urged to make some progress but apparently it prevaricated until war relieved it of the decision. Late in the war there were attempts to build homes for coloured people on the cleared West Bute yard along with a youth centre and nursery school. Black protests about segregation led to an undertaking that the houses would be available to any citizen of Cardiff.77 The City Council and many of the citizens were concerned to segregate black people within Bute town; they were not allowed to move out if at all possible and certainly they were not to be made too comfortable. The moral panics of 1929 and 1935 had the added element of this hypocrisy within them. Coloured people were forced to live in a disreputable area and then they were blamed for its condition. It was a vicious circle because the outbreaks of moral panic tended to strengthen the defences of the ghetto makers. It was only the efforts of black people themselves and the changed political circumstances of the war which produced any alleviation in the position of the community. Resistance and Welfare In the early 1930s, Miss Nancie Sharp investigated conditions in Butetown, and particularly emphasized the lack of social facilities: They cannot join freely in any of the ordinary pastimes of the people round them. Even the members of the Churches they wish to attend do not welcome them, and they cannot stay at the Seamen's Institutes, though they can go there during the day. If anything is provided it is for the coloured people exclusively, thus shutting them off more than ever from the rest of the community.78 Dr Harold Moody of the League of Coloured Peoples took up a similar theme in an address made in London in 1934. He saw dangers in the neglect: T h e coloured people of Cardiff are mainly Communists, simply because no one else has seen fit to give them a helping hand. The Methodists are now trying to do something for them, but it will take a very long time.' 79 The Methodist Mission had been established in April 1934 as the result of an anonymous gift. An old Methodist church in Loudon

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Square was adapted for the purpose. It also included a cinema for showing silent religious and educational films. There were already some missions for coloured people, but this was the first church. The Rev. Stanley E. Watson, a missionary with 23 years' experience in British Guiana and the West Indies, was placed in charge. A year later a Methodist spokesman claimed a 'gratifying' response from the coloured community, but little from white people in Cardiff.80 It was the efforts of the coloured community itself which did much to transform the area. Galvanized by the assaults of 1935, it improved its organization and efforts, though signs of this transformation are detectable prior to this. There was some difference in approach to organization between the different communities. The Muslims were inclined to be organized largely on a religious basis and to be less political - at least in terms of Western politics. They organized in defence of their specific interest and operated self-help schemes to cope with the effects of unemployment. The West Indians and East Africans, by contrast, were more likely to be involved in politics and trade unions. In 1935 it was West Indians who assumed the leadership of the resistance to the Merchant Shipping Act, because of their long residence in the Empire and the Western world. The left was split between those in the Communist Party and those not.81 Signs of organization could be seen in the Arab community in the 1920s. In December 1924 they formed the Cardiff Adenese Club and Association, a body aimed at protecting themselves from the allegations frequently made against them - presumably allegations of crimping. The Cardiff solicitor, George F. Willett, was involved in the formalities - he had already acted for many coloured men in a legal capacity. The club intended to act as a shipping broker, agent, passage broker, as seamen's agents, to provide engagements on ships and to work under the provisions of the Merchant Seamen's and Workmen's Compensation Acts. It was also involved in more social activities - making available rooms for religious meetings, insurance and the provision of credit for members - a crucial service in any sailortown.82 The next year Willett took up the cudgels on the Association's behalf over registration under the 1925 Orders. The Adenese Association were very concerned about the appearance of the word 'Alien' on the cards. It was not that there was an objection to registering as such - it was felt that the traffic in discharge notes ought to be regulated - but their British status and war records were being impugned. The grievance, according to Willett, was a very serious one. Pressure from them ensured that on the cards they were distinguished as 'Arab Seamen' and not as aliens but the reference on the cards to the Alien Seamen's order was not expunged as they wanted. They were very aggrieved at having to report to an Aliens' Office whenever they landed.83 Muslims were also establishing backyard mosques in Butetown in this period and in the 1930s the construction of a purpose-built mosque came under consideration. By 1936 there were six places of worship associated with boarding houses but the need was felt to link together Mohammedans

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of the various nationalities - Indians, Africans, Arabs and Somalis, for instance. Sheikh Abdullah Ali, head of the religion in Cardiff, was conducting negotiations with the Bute Estate for a mosque which would provide accommodation for 2,000 people as well as a library and a schoolroom. Wealthy Muslims in London, including the Aga Khan, were supporting the project. Ali wanted the Cardiff mosque to be modelled on the one in Paris and to be the first step in a scheme of provision of mosques in all the British Muslim communities. The Islamin Allawia Oomoomaya (Islamic Society of Great Britain) was established in Cardiff with this end in view. A few months later a deputation, representing the Muslim community, left Cardiff to visit the Aga Khan in London and two possible sites were under consideration. The mosque was ultimately built, in time to be destroyed by the Luftwaffe in 1941. Several worshippers were inside at the time; their survival was treated as a miracle.84 Moslems also pushed forward with the creation of an appropriate burial ground in Cardiff in the same period. They discovered that, for years, their dead had not been buried facing the east as the religion required. Negotiations were entered into with the City Council's Parks and Open Spaces Committee and a special section of the Ely Cemetery was consecrated for Islamic burials.85 Religion was clearly a key organizing principle for the many groups sharing Islamic beliefs, and they could find some co-operation in furthering their religious aims. Organization amongst the black community is not so easily uncovered during the 1920s. They, like many other groups, had organized in the wake of the 1919 riots and Rufus Fennell, a doctor, had assumed a leadership role. He apparently left the city shortly afterwards and there is little direct evidence of black organization in the 1920s, though the West Indians were clearly able to take to the streets in order to discourage some of the Arab boarding-house masters in their activities. They were also involved in protests about the 1925 Order; Home Office documents single out West Indians amongst the discontented, though there is no evidence of protest articulated at the highest levels. Unlike the Adenese Association, they did not leave a direct mark on the Home Office files.86 Some modification had been achieved in the registration scheme by 1932. Those claiming to be British subjects or to be British protected persons could, after strict investigation, have issued to them a seaman's certificate of nationality. Only those regularly sailing in British ships or regarded as domiciled in Britain were issued with such certificates. The scheme operated for Indian seamen from 1926 and was gradually extended to cover any coloured seaman claiming to be a British subject or a British protected person by August 1932. This had been secured through black pressure and was designed to replace the passports previously issued.87 Some coloured men were probably involved in the radical alternatives

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to the Seamen's Union: the Seamen's Minority Movement and the International Transport Workers' Federation. The fact that some West Indians were Communists is well-attested and it is likely that their involvement in the Community Party grew out of trade union activities. In 1933 George Henson (the son of the George Henson mentioned earlier, and now involved in the International Transport Workers' Federation) sprung to the defence of coloured men in one of the perennial conflicts over unemployment insurance. The following year black men were involved in a movement to increase wages within the NUS. One of their number was stationed on the door of the meetingplace in order to prevent the unwelcome attentions of police and press stenographers. Harry O'Connell was a spokesman on that occasion and a committee was established to press for improvements in wages and manning levels.88 More evidence of organization became available in 1935 with the campaign against the Merchant Shipping Act. Initiative came from Butetown itself and, out of the previous internal conflicts, unity was forged. 'Ordinarily religious and colour differences are emphasised even in this community. But the recent Trade Union attack upon these men, threatening to deprive them of Nationality and the right to earn a living has driven all the elements into a common course.' A Coloured Colonial Seamen's Union was established and it sent Harry O'Connell to London, where he sought assistance from a variety of bodies, including the League of Coloured Peoples. As in 1919, black intellectuals were to play a part in articulating discontent. While a black intelligentsia was an important group in many colonial cities, it was of very limited size and importance in Britain and only just beginning to emerge as a force in the 1930s. The key development was the formation of the League of Coloured Peoples in London in 1931. This organization aimed to combat discrimination and to increase coloured people's self-esteem. It was loosely modelled on the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People. No chance was ever missed of mentioning a qualification when referring to individuals, and there were many articles on black heroes - men such as Booker T. Washington. Its views were well summarized in 1935. 'Coloured People will never be free until they unite amongst themselves and join with other progressive forces and pull all their weight for the political and economic emancipation of the coloured races.' In spite of the firm stand against discrimination there was something of a conciliatory stance about the League of Coloured Peoples. It used the loyalty of the Empire as a major argument for improving the conditions of coloured people and there was a distinct evangelistic tone. Some of this came from Dr Harold A. Moody (1882-1947), its president. Moody's Christianity led him to a concern for social justice and equality before the law. He was political enough for officials in the Colonial Office to want to restrict his activities on welfare committees during the Second World War

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- he was an 'enthusiast' and nothing was more damning in Whitehall. Moody had come to London in 1904 and, in the face of discrimination, had qualified as a doctor, settling in private practice there. Until 1935, the League of Coloured Peoples'activities had been largely propagandist or social and, despite some interest, it had failed to establish any real links with the large working-class black communities in the British ports. The 1935 Act gave it an opportunity to extend its role.89 Its journal, The Keys, published a useful exposé of the iniquities of the Cardiff police under the 1925 Order and there was concern for the general state of the coloured population in the city. A branch of the League of Coloured Peoples was established but it achieved only limited success. It had 80 members at the outset, and rapidly grew to 177, but was never as active as the Colonial Defence Association, a group under the influence of the Communist Party. Moody was clearly somewhat disturbed by the presence of the Communist Party in Butetown, and the Colonial Defence Association seems to have had more success in articulating discontents. Butetown was viewed by the Communist Party at the time as one of the most productive areas of the city to hold street corner meetings and sell literature. In the late 1930s the Colonial Defence Association led protest marches and deputations about relief scales to the City Hall in Cardiff, though the League of Coloured Peoples did join with it in some of this activity.90 There were signs of organization throughout the period; coloured people were far from supine in the face of discrimination, but it is equally clear that they could achieve relatively little when all the odds were stacked against them. Muslims had more success with their religious ambitions and clearly these did not challenge the status quo. Indeed such movements were probably encouraged by the authorities; self-control was a supplement to social control. If the late 1930s was any improvement in the conditions of the coloured population it was slow and sparing, owing much to the revival in trade. The upsurge of organization probably achieved as much in the realms of self-esteem as in practical politics, though its achievments should not be belittled. There had been successes over the 1935 Act and this encouraged action over unemployment relief. It required further change in general social and economic conditions for more to be achieved. The outbreak of the Second World War helped create those conditions. War created the demand for labour; black sailors and munitions workers were needed and necessary people had to be welcomed. In 1942 the South Wales Echo carried a story of a white sea captain who shared his table with a coloured man in Cardiff. When congratulated for his behaviour, he replied, 'We are all gentlemen in this war and coloured men are Britain's finest gentlemen, bringing in the food we so much enjoyed for supper'. Picture Post carried extensive coverage of the opening of a mosque in 1943 to replace that destroyed in the blitz. Partly the appeal was photogenic - it was, as the captionist observed, a scene which could have been observed in any Eastern city. But also there was a concern to

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portray the tolerance and benevolence of Britain's fight against fascism. It was another publication, Illustrated, which captured this mood best, with enthusiasm about Butetown. Its views became explicit in this newsreel-like item: 'Many a chocolate-coloured girl now proudly wears the uniform of the A.T.S.' Another young coloured girl - Winifred Johnson of Loudon Square - was commended for her bravery during an air raid.91 Patronizing references had replaced images of fear; these were, of course, the same girls who were incapable of steady and routine work eight years previously and whose fate had so much concerned the moralists. Not everything changed, but there was a detectable softening of official and public attitudes. Mr Justice Charles, officiating at the Glamorgan Assizes at Swansea in December 1942, had not learned the new rules of the game. After a black man was acquitted of murder, he commented that Butetown was a disgrace to Cardiff. Civic leaders now rushed to the defence and it was (democratically) agreed that Butetown was as good as Berkeley Square. The comparison was made by none other than the Chief Constable, James A. Wilson! Another representative of the Cardiff police force remained true to the past, however, to the annoyance of Colonial Office officials. With regard to Inspector Picket, his idea on the way coloured people should be segregated in definite areas is not in line with our policy and though I do not consider him an unsympathetic man, I do not value his opinion. I had three or four very long discussions with him when I made a visit to Cardiff some time ago - he is hopelessly out of date. Another visitor was more resigned. 'It does no harm for Inspector Picket to think he is an encyclopaedia of knowledge regarding the coloured community of Cardiff.'92 It is clear that much of the change was cosmetic. Oswald Penso, the director of the new Colonial Centre at Bute Street, was denied access to Penylan Tennis Club. The club denied that it operated a colour bar and argued that he had not been properly introduced. It felt that its side was not adequately put in the press - which shows some indication of a shift in public attitudes. Recreational facilities were still highly segregated. At the end of the war a controversy developed over a colony of 'camp followers' who congregated around the US coloured soldiers at Maindy barracks. Coloured girls from Cardiff sprang to the soldiers' defence and, in the process, revealed the geography of race in the city. Some dance halls would not admit the soldiers, and none would welcome them. 'The Docks, the only area of the city where they would be made welcome, and where they would be able to mix in decent surroundings without fear of being snubbed on account of their colour, is out of bounds.' Kenneth Little found that seven out of eleven hotels and boarding houses he visited would not accept coloured guests. He recognized the easing of the employment situation. 'Today, at the price of several hundred of its

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torpedoed menfolk, the economic difficulties are temporarily, at any rate, surmounted. Today under wartime regimentation, even the coloured girls have no difficulty in finding jobs! ' But the prospect for the future was not good unless concerted social action, particularly in the field of education, was undertaken. It was 'in a microcosm an admirable test of our reconstructive abilities. It is an opportunity which should not be neglected, if only to ensure that the long promised new era of AngloColonial relations does not contain any "fossil records" of the past.'93 It was the Colonial Office which best expressed the new attitudes. In 1942 there was established an Advisory Committee on the Welfare of Coloured People in the United Kingdom, what The Times called 'a necessary step in an age of changing relations'. The war had brought an influx of munitions workers and servicemen and, in a period when the 'more advanced' colonies were passing from tutelage to partnership, it was 'of the first importance that those who come to this country from the Colonial Empire shall feel that here too the partnership is a fact and not a phrase.' 94 As far as Cardiff was concerned, the major interest of the new committee was its policy with regard to the provision of seamen's hostels and clubs. As a result, a Centre for Colonial Seamen was established in Cardiff, opening in 1943. It was meant to be a social centre for the black community as well as a place of call for transient seamen. It was established in a converted building in Bute Street and the administration was in the hands of a local committee. After representations from the local people, colonial men from the area assumed the paid positions. The Colonial Office continued to be satisfied with its operations and the building was extended to include a dance hall. The main problems, in official eyes, were the use of the centre for juveniles and by women who were considered to be 'undesirable'. 95 The problem for any such social work in Butetown, though, was highlighted by Kenneth L. Little. One of the main difficulties, as I see it, of getting any adequate idea of what 'people want' in Loudon Square is the fact that some of the best talkers have a certain amount of individual axe to grind, and this, added to the fact that there are some, at any rate, divergent interests makes it all the more necessary to take as wide a cross section as possible.96 This was apparent in the management of the centre where a whole host of different interests had to be accommodated. The advisory committee included representatives of the Sons of Africa (a friendly society), the Colonial Defence Association, the Allowonia Society (the main body of Muslims, Arab in culture), the International Muslim Society (non-Arab Muslims, with Somalis at its centre), the Loudon Square Institute and the South Wales Association of Coloured Peoples.97 The main issues of conflict came from within the Muslim community and concerned an ethnic and religious split. When the Cardiff mosque was built in the late 1930s, the internal division within the community was

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sunk in the cause of raising the new edifice. Unity did not survive the building programme and, when the Colonial Office came to finance the re-building of the mosque in the 1940s, it was faced with a deep clash. The property was legally the possession of the Allowonia Society, but the Somalis who had played a part in the original fund-raising threatened legal action to reassert their claims. The issue produced no small amount of friction and was only partly resolved by a compromise of investing the property in the whole Cardiff Muslim community and recognizing the large part played by the Allowonia Society in fund-raising on a plaque on the exterior. The contributions of the Colonial Office and the British Council were more discreetly mentioned within. The Somalis had already established their own mosque and did not recognize the leadership of the Sheik in Cardiff. The issue apparently continued to rankle in the post-war period, when it led to fisticuffs on one occasion.98 Similar conflicts emerged over the distribution of sheep between the two Muslim groups for slaughter at the Aide Idah festival in the early 1940s. There were protests over inadequate supplies being made to the Somali faction. But, in general terms, perhaps the most notable aspect of the episode was the willingness of the Divisional Food Controller to release sheep to the Muslim community, at a time when the general meat ration was being reduced. It was, perhaps, a small indication of a change in attitudes amongst the authorities and of the increased leverage which was available to coloured people." Wartime ideas of reconstruction threw past neglect and hostility into stark relief. Since the establishment of our Centre we can now see how large and urgent was the need for such an institution, and now that we are in touch with the resident Colonial community one can estimate how appalling have been the living conditions. On the whole many of them are of poor stock and it will take years of progressive social work before we can expect benefit from this new social service which we have provided. In as much as the hostel side is important for the accommodation of merchant seamen, I think the wider and more important aspect of the work will be found in the social organisation of the Colonial community.100 The promise of wartime reconstruction was never fulfilled. Attempts to establish an educational centre for coloured children, to provide a route into secondary education for some and recreational facilities for others, apparently came to nothing.101 The welfare state did something to improve living conditions, though in the early 1950s health risks in the area were appalling. Bomb damage was added to years of neglect by landlords. Clearance and rebuilding became a matter of discussion in the early 1950s.102 The business was protracted and involved the construction of multi-storied flats, as well as houses and maisonettes. Many older people felt cheated of their familiar landmarks, neighbourhoods and institutions. Old pubs were replaced by modern ones; a community centre was built. There were desperate attempts to retain a sense of

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identity in the area - one of them, the Mardi-Gras Carnival, only a partial success.103 Many of the old population moved away during the rebuilding. The council estates that were impenetrable in the 1930s opened up. So too did jobs ashore, but they were as badly-paid and physically demanding as the sea.104 The post-war situation was favourable only in comparison with the horrendous inter-war period. Of the post-war period generally, Rex and his associates have well observed that 'far from it being the case that racism had ebbed and flowed with the trade cycle, the tragic truth is that while racism flows it rarely ebbs'.105 Conclusions Who, then, regulated the reserve army? The complex of institutions which formed the local state was responsive to pressure emanating from civil society. It is, after all, one of the prime functions of the state to resolve conflicts, but whose interests were best served? From the receiving end it was clear that the forces combined to the black community's detriment. As the League of Coloured Peoples' Report expressed it in 1935: T h e Trade Union, the Police and the shipowners appear to co-operate smoothly in barring Coloured Colonial Seamen from signing on ships in Cardiff.'106 Many of the tangled strands lead back to the offices of the National Sailors' and Firemen's Union. It consistently and stridently agitated against any competition for white British seamen: Already through the influx of Arabs, Negroes, West Indians, Chinese etc., there is growing up in this country an ever increasing number of half-castes - if we are not careful, gone will be that cleanness of race upon which we pride ourselves. Imagine you seamen who have not experienced the joy (?) white men must feel when their daughters produce them a coloured grandson.107 Such attacks were essentially based upon economic competition. 'We of this union have at all times done our very utmost to assure white seamen the preference of employment on British vessels.'108 Various counter-statements that there was no hostility to British coloured seamen were disingenuous - the attacks were of such ferocity and so sweeping that it was impossible for any distinction between aliens and black British to be maintained. In any case, it argued that white British should have preference over British Arabs.109 When a deputation from the union waited on the Board of Trade in 1923 it was assured that its views would carry great weight. The League of Coloured Peoples saw it as 'the most powerful of British trade unions'.110 Since the First World War, it had worked closely with the Shipping Federation in the joint supply of seamen and had quite effectively damped down militancy in the industry. The introduction of the PC5 in 1922 produced a petition of protest from 500 Cardiff seamen against

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Havelock Wilson's means of maintaining his position after he had tamely accepted wage reductions in defiance of mass meetings in the ports. Ruled autocratically from the centre and desperate to maintain its arrangements with the owners, the union had been a strike-breaking ally of the Federation in the 1920s.111 Havelock Wilson's death in 1929 changed very little - his photograph appeared in the union journal regularly 'Lest we Forget' and a strategy of not pushing for major improvements in conditions was pursued.112 In compensation, members were invited to dwell on the improvements which the union had secured in the past113 and vitriolic attacks were launched on more radical strategies which were usually dismissed as being Communist-inspired.114 As it rejected international organization and militancy, control of the labour supply became crucial to it; hence its virulent campaigns against Arabs. Its usefulness to the shipowners gave it some influence over them and secured their support for its policies on crucial occasions. On the face of it, the Shipping Federation's interests were rather different - a large pool of available labour suited its interests well. Ethnic stereotyping sometimes worked to the advantage of coloured men who were seen as being more dependable than white British labour by some employers at least.115 When, in 1923, the Splott ward of the Cardiff Labour Party passed a resolution condemning the employment of 'Coolies and Arabs' at miserable wages while British sailors were idle and starving, the reply from the Labour Party in London remarked that the shipowners had far more political power than Labour did and that any 'effective reform' was unlikely. The union often felt that its efforts on behalf of white seamen were being dissipated by the unruly behaviour of a minority who gave white seamen a bad reputation.116 It would be going too far to say, as Nancy Hare did in 1937, that there was 'practically no colour bar' in shipping, but it was one of the few areas where some jobs were available.117 These were generally stokehold jobs and ethnic groups were not mixed in the stokeholds, so there clearly was discrimination. The differential rate of unemployment for coloured seamen in the depression also gives the lie to the simple view quoted above.118 Some employers were probably simply colour-prejudiced; others might see an interest of discipline and economics which militated against this. But they had chosen to co-operate with a trade union and could not but be influenced by its views. On important issues like registration in 1925 and the rota in 1930, the Shipping Federation backed the union's view, but it was the union which had made the running. In 1934, the journal, Syren and Shipping, was distinctly unsympathetic to union views on the shipping subsidy. m The police represent another case. They too were influenced by the union in their activities and their enthusiasm for registration. Yet their concerns had other sources too - moralists could exert pressure upon them and when James Wilson was appointed Chief Constable in 1920 he was warned by the Lord Mayor that: 'The citizens of Cardiff, unlike the citizens of many large cities, took a very close and keen interest in the

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work of the police and the chief constable.'120 Their own role as law enforcers and in containing 'vice' led them into an almost autonomous and 'professional' concern for the issues. Fear of riot clearly influenced them for much of the 1920s and, more fundamentally, it was a fear that emanated from racial prejudice. Chief Constable Wilson was an actor with aspirations to write his own part and that of others. Such bodies ultimately came into contact with the departments of the central state. The union and the police tried to influence its policy and sometimes with success; the Aliens Restrictions Orders owed much to union lobbying. The central state itself could act independently of such pressures, as with the revision of the Cardiff boarding-house regulations at the behest of the Board of Trade in 1925. It could act with some venom in implementing decisions, as with the stringency of the Aliens Restrictions Orders of 1925. A comment on a Home Office file is indicative. T h e British Empire has to endure its own Black and coloured subjects; it need not extend the same charity to similarly coloured aliens.'121 However, the central state also operated within a wider power system which put different pressures upon it and sometimes led it to modify the pressures which came from below. In 1923, the Board of Trade was clearly reluctant to act at the seamen's request and argued that many Arabs were British citizens. In opposition to the union's view, the Ministry of Health reminded the Cardiff Guardians of their responsibilities in 1930. In 1935-36 there was much pressure for an investigation of the position of coloured seamen, inspired by Captain Richardson's report, and much of it wanting drastic action. Rather aloofly, the agitating bodies were assured that the Home Office had controlled the situation in the 1920s and demands for sterner measures were damped down.122 It was the needs of the British Empire on which British trade and industry were increasingly dependent in the inter-war period which produced such concerns.123 They came to the fore in the world wars, where the Empire was particularly necessary. In 1917, a Cardiff immigration officer was advised not to be too scrupulous in his investigations about whether or not Arab seamen were British subjects.124 In the 1940s there was much concern to present the mother country's stand on race in the most favourable light; though this was often sacrificed to another international goal of good relationships with the United States.125 It was such concerns which gave black resistance much of its leverage. The theme was important in 1919 and the League of Coloured Peoples seized upon it in the 1930s. T r u e these men are coloured, so are five out of every seven persons in the British Empire! Without people of colour there would be neither Cardiff nor an Empire. For numerically and territorially this is overwhelmingly a coloured Empire, not a white one.'126 The sensitivity of the issue is demonstrated - paradoxically - by the 1925 Order. Overt restriction of the movement of colonial subjects was not possible, but the covert denial of British citizenship to many coloured men was a politically acceptable means of meeting the pressures for limiting competition to white seamen.127 In the 1930s it could be asserted

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in a legalistic sense that there were no means of limiting the settlement of coloured British subjects in Britain.12* Black actions could therefore also influence the political outcome, though they had to contend with diverse and protean forms of racism that welled up from civil society and the state itself. The odds against them were high, although appropriate economic and international circumstances could do something to shorten them. Their struggle was arduous, protracted - and necessary. NEIL EVANS

Co leg Harlech, Wales

NOTES 1. Anyone attempting to write on Butetown must wage a struggle for independence from the work of Kenneth Little, Negroes in Britain (London, 1948, 2nd edn. 1972). It is a remarkably thorough and penetrating piece of work; frequently a source I thought I had discovered independently can be found tucked away in his copious footnotes. I hope the perspective of social historian offers some new insights and I have had the advantage of access to Home Office, Colonial Office and Ministry of Transport Papers which were not available when he wrote. Infuriatingly, Little turns up once again as a correspondent of the Colonial Office! My searches of the Cardiff press are also more extensive than Little's. I thank the Librarian of the Western Mail for giving me access to the invaluable indexes of the paper. Nino Abdi, Huw Beynon, Alan Burge, Elisabeth Evans, Ken Lunn and Marika Sherwood have given me much help and encouragement. 2. Cardiff City Council, Reports of Council and Committees, Watch Committee, 9 April 1923. (This source is subsequently cited as CCC followed by the name and date of the appropriate committee.) 3. More detail of this process is available in Neil Evans, T h e South Wales Race Riots of 1919', Llafur, Vol. 3, No. 1 (Spring 1980), pp.5-29. 4. For the idea of the local state, see Cynthia Cockburn, The Local State: Management of Cities and People (London, 1977). 5. Pacifist Service Unit, Tiger Bay (Cardiff, 1946), p.3. Note the similarities of this description with Allan Spear's analysis of the black ghetto in South Side Chicago, where physical and institutional ghettos are distinguished. Allan Spear, Black Chicago (Chicago, 1967), Chs. 1 and 5. 6. These remarks are based upon Spear, op.cit., Gilbert Osofsky, Harlem (New York, 1971 edn.) and various essays in Nathan I. Huggins et al. (eds.), Key Issues in the AfroAmerican Experience, Vol.11 (New York, 1971). For European ghettos, I follow Humbert S. Nelli, The Italians in Chicago (New York, 1970) and Sam Bass Warner and Colin B. Burke, 'Cultural Change and the Ghetto', Journal of Contemporary History, Vol.4, No.4 (1969). 7. This marvellous and characteristic phrase comes from Gwyn Williams, 'Mother Wales get off me Back?', Marxism Today, Dec. 1981, p. 16. Mark H. Haller, 'Urban Vice and Civic Reform: Chicago in the Early Twentieth Century', in Kenneth T. Jackson and Stanley K. Schultzl (eds.), Cities in American History (New York, 1972), describes a process of vice being contained in ethnic communities by police action. 8. Little, op.cit., describes the social geography and has an excellent map. An article in Picture Post, 22 April 1950, conveys much of the atmosphere with its direct and striking photographs. The feature film, Tiger Bay (1959), shot shortly before the area was bulldozed to make way for tower blocks, also conveys the atmosphere. After it

110

9. 10. 11.

12.

13. 14. 15. 16. 17.

18. 19. 20.

21.

22. 23.

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN was screened in Cardiff on 4 August 1980 (having come out top in The Sherman Theatre's poll of its users), the audience applauded. Stan Hugill, Sailortown (London, 1967), pp.28-33: South Wales Echo, 19 Sept. 1970. Reminiscences recorded in the South Wales Echo (hereafter SWE), 22 Sept. 1970. This is the prevalent view of the past in the area, on the experience of some conversations and interviews. The emphasis is necessary. Inhabitants of this area have too often suffered from invalid generalizations. Public Record Office, Home Office (hereafter HO) 213/350, Deputation from the Welfare Committee of Africans in Europe and Various Other Societies in the Ports of Great Britain, 28 July 1936. Remarks of Capt. Arthur Evans MP, p. 13. Nancie Sharp comments on the bad name which all white women married to coloured men acquired, The Keys, Vol.1, No.3 (Jan. 1934), p.45. Rowland T. Berthoff, 'The Social Order of the Anthracite Region 1825-1902', in John Lankford and David Reimers (eds.), Essays on American Social History (New York, 1970), pp.63-5, described a somewhat similar situation of mutual ignorance and indifference amongst ethnic groups who worked with each other, but always tried to give jobs to friends of the same origin. HO 45/14299, part 2, Report of Cardiff City Police, Detective Department, Aliens Section, 2 Dec. 1930. HO 213/353, Chief Constable of Cardiff to Home Office, 7 June 1937. CCC Health and Port Sanitary Committee, 15 Dec. 1926. Western Mail (hereafter WM), 26 Nov. 1920, 17, 25 Nov. 1925, 5 April 1926, 11, 18 Jan. 1929, 24 April 1934, 10 Dec. 1936; SWE, 19, 21 Sept. 1970. Kenneth O. Morgan, Rebirth of a Nation: Wales 1880-1980 (Oxford, 1981), p. 198; WM, 10 Dec. 1936, quoting an article by the Deputy Chief Constable of Cardiff in the Metropolitan Police Journal. The Cardiff police clearly dined out on their Bute Street tales. See the Cardiff Police Surgeon's address to the Rotary Club, WM, 25 Jan. 1927. WM, 22, 24 June 1929. WM, 20 Jan. 1931 for one case. Little, op.cit., stresses the division between Bute Street and the black community. WM, 25 Jan. 1927, 27 Aug. 1934, 7 April 1936,11 Dec. 1942. Reminiscences of police and former criminals, SWE, 22, 25 Sept. 1970. Interview with Mr J.E. Thomas (a former employee of the Shipping Federation in Cardiff), 25 Oct. 1979; conversations with Mr Brian Turvey, BBC Wales, about his interviews with former criminals. W.R. (Bodwyn) Owen, ' "Tiger Bay": The Street of Sleeping Cats', in Stewart Williams (éd.), Glamorgan Historian, Vol.7 (Barry, 1971); V.A.C. Gatrell and T.B. Hadden 'Criminal Statistics and their Interpretation', in E.A. Wrigley (éd.), Nineteenth Century Society (London, 1972), show the connections between crimes of drunkenness and prosperity. HO 213/308 A.S. Hutchinson to A.N. Rucker (draft), August 1935, notes the post-war decline in crimes against seamen. What follows is largely a very compressed summary of my detailed article in Llafur (1980), op.cit. Some new material from sources not available to me then is introduced. See also Neil Evans, 'The South Wales Race Riots of 1919: A Documentary Postscript', Llafur, Vol.3 No.4 (1983). Harris Joshua et ai, To Ride the Storm: The 1980 Bristol 'Riot' and the State (London, 1983), Ch. 1, for the broad context and sensitivity to the role of the media. Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London, 1984), pp.298-316, includes a valuable extract from the autobiography of Hotahim Ismaa'il about the Millicent Street attack. HO 45/11017, Chief Constable of Cardiff to Home Office, 13, 18 June 1919, 3 Jan. 1920; Records of telephone conversations during the riots. HO 45/11017, various documents relating to repatriation; Tony Martin, 'Revolutionary Upheaval in Trinidad, 1919: Views from British and American Sources', Journal of Negro History, Vol.LVIII, No.3 (July 1973) (I owe this reference to Peter Stead). The story of the funeral is still current in Cardiff, though I have no documentary evidence of it. Local tradition accepts its validity but claims that the incident took place in Barry (conversation with Mr Peter Link, Dec. 1979).

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24. HO 45/11897, Memorandum on Registration of Coloured Seamen; W. Haldane Port, Chief Inspector, Aliens Branch, Home Office, circular to Immigration Officers, 31 Dec. 1920; HO 45/14299, Notice A.B.7, Aliens Order 1920 (informing masters of vessels of their duties). 25. HO 45/11897, Assistant Secretary, Marine Department, Board of Trade to British Consul, Marseilles, 20 Sept. 1920. 26. Cardiff League of Social Service, Annual Report 1921. 27. HO 45/11897, Undated report of Immigration Officer, Cardiff (c. early June 1921); Home Office to Town Clerk, Cardiff, 7 June 1921; Telegram, Lord Mayor, Cardiff to Home Office, 8 June 1921; St. George's Fund for Sailors - Report on Conditions in Cardiff, 10 June 1921; Telegram from Seamen's Union and Seamen's Mission Cardiff to Secretary of State for Colonies, 13 June 1921; Reply by G. Grindle on behalf of Winston Churchill, 22 June 1922; G. Grindle to Under-Secretary of State, Home Office, 22 June 1921 ; Item 35 Correspondence regarding destitute Japanese Seamen in Cardiff; Item 39 Repatriation of Destitute Adenese Seamen, Labour Party Archives LP/SEA/18/9. J. Farrell to National Executive Committee, 28 Aug. 1923. Little, op.cit., p.90 has a graph of unemployment trends, 1921-39. 28. HO 45/14299 part 1,14299, James Evans, Somali Seamen in Glamorgan, 18 July 1930. Cardiff Sailors' and Soldiers' Rest, Annual Report 1922; WM, 20 Feb. 1922; HO 45/11897, Port of Cardiff Immigration Officer's Report, received at Home Office, 18 March 1922. Mr James Ernest (1891-1980), who was prosecuted for such an offence around this time, said he left a gun so that his wife would be defended while he was at sea (interviews, 14 Feb., 11 April 1978). Glamorgan Record Office, CLU/C Cardiff Poor Law Guardians, Minutes, 5 Aug., 16 Sept. 1922. 29. Cardiff Sailors' and Soldiers' Rest, Annual Report 1923. 30. HO 45/11897, Chief Constable of Cardiff to Under-Secretary of State, Home Office, 24 Sept. 1923. 31. HO 45/11897, Deputation to Board of Trade from Seafarers' Joint Council - 15 Jan. 1923; Chief Constable of Cardiff to Under-Secretary of State, Home Office, 12 Nov. 1924; Cardiff City Police, Detective Department, Report of Sgt. Broben, 8 Nov. 1924. Interviews with James Ernest, 14 Feb., 11 April 1978; SWE, 21,22,23,24,26 Sept., 6 Oct. 1970; Manchester Guardian, 14 July 1923; WM, 16 July 1923; 12, 25 Feb. 1925. Joshua étal. op.cit., p.28, refer to inter-racial riots in 1929. SWE, 14 Feb. 1925, gives evidence of friction between a Malay and Arabs. 32. HO 45/11897, Deputation to the Board of Trade from the Seafarers' Joint Council, 15 Jan. 1923. 33. HO 45/11897, Memorandum, 3 Nov. 1924; Report of Liverpool Immigration Officer, 18 March 1922; Chief Constable of Cardiff to Under-Secretary of State, Home Office, 24 Sept. 1923; Deputation to the Board of Trade from Seafarers' Joint Council, 15 Jan. 1923; Report of Cardiff Immigration Officer, 7 Sept. 1923; Report of Liverpool Immigration Officer, 17 Feb. 1921; J. Henson to Home Office, 15 Aug. 1923; Home Office to Town Clerk, Cardiff, 7 June 1921. 34. HO 45/11017, Chief Constable of Cardiff to Home Office, 18 June 1919; HO 45/13392, Registration of Coloured Seamen (493, 912); HO 45/14299, Report of Cardiff City Police, Detective Department, 2 Dec. 1930. 35. HO 45/11897, Deputation to Board of Trade, 15 Jan. 1923, Item 78 (cover notes). 36. HO 45/11897, Cardiff Union to Ministry of Health, 20 Oct. 1924. 37. CLU/C Cardiff Poor Law Guardians, minutes, 3 Jan. 1925. 38. HO 45/11897, Deputation to Board of Trade, 15 Jan. 1923. The Liverpool Immigration Officer in 1921 argued that the problem dated from the war. Apparently, he later changed his mind cf. his reports of 17 Feb. 1921 and 16 March 1922. 39. HO 45/12314, Circular letter to Chief Constables, 23 March 1925. Memorandum with above. 40. The allusion is, of course, to Ralph Ellison's novel, Invisible Man (Harmondsworth, 1965, originally published 1952). 41. HO 45/11897, Letter to Town Clerk, Cardiff, 7 June 1921; Report of Henry T.A.

112

42. 43. 44. 45.

46. 47. 48. 49. 50.

51.

52. 53.

54. 55. 56. 57.

58.

59.

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN Bosenquet to King George's Fund for Sailors, 10 June 1921. HO 45/12314; Circular letter to Chief Constables, 23 March 1925 and Memorandum with this; Letter to Chief Constables of Scheduled Areas; File on Capt. Arthur Evans, Parliamentary Question, 11 March 1926; Undated memorandum circa Oct. 1925; Note on file, 24 April 1925. HO 45/13392, Sir William Joynson-Hicks to Sidney Webb, 21 Nov. 1927; Sir Arthur Evans to Joynson-Hicks, 22 Nov. 1927. HO 45/12314, Circular letter to Chief Constables, 23 March 1925. Joshuas al. op.cit., p.32. The Keys: The Official Organ of the League of Coloured Peoples (Kraus-Thompson reprint, ed. Roderick J. MacDonald, New York, 1976), Vol.Ill, No.2 (Oct.-Dec. 1935), pp. 16-24. Quotation p. 19. HO 45/12314, Foreign Office to Chief Constable of Cardiff, May 1925; The Keys, passim. The Negro World, 30 Jan. 1926; The Keys, passim; HO 45/12314, Memorandum (undated c. Oct. 1925); File on Arab seamen dated 30 April 1925; Cardiff City Police, Reports from Detective Department, 23 March, 20 May -1926; Cardiff Immigration Officer's Report, 19 May 1926. HO 45/13392, Circular Letter to Chief Constables, 12 March 1928. HO 45/13395, Note of Conference held at the Home Office, 26 Jan. 1928. Modern Records Centre, National Union of Seamen, Executive Committee Minutes, 25 Oct. 1929 (I owe this reference to Ken Lunn). The Seaman, 18 Dec. 1929. On 12 Aug. 1929, this journal asked 'Why are Arabs on British Ships?' The Seaman, for example, 15 Jan., 26 March 1930; HO 45/14299 part 1; Memorandum by Lt. Commander Hon. J.M. Kenworthy R.N. MP. The account here follows a copy of the regulations for the Joint Supply of Arab and Somali Seamen in HO 45/14299 part 1. The Seaman, 2 July 1930, and the Western Mail, 25 July 1930, both state that the scheme applied to all coloured men, but the document is specifically about Arabs and Somalis and this restriction is quite consistent with the Seaman's long-running campaign against Arabs. WM, 20 Aug; 16, 17, 18, 22 Sept. 1930. Apparently only Arabs were involved, unlike the South Shields disturbances in the same period; see David Byrne, The 1930 "Arab riot" in South Shields: A Race Riot that Never Was', Race and Class, Vol.XVIII, No.3 (Winter 1977). However, a year later, extra police were drafted into the docks because of agitations over the PC5. (WM, 15 Oct. 1931). HO 45/14299 part 1, Chief Constable of Cardiff to Home Office, 3 Aug. 1930; Cardiff City Police, Detective Report, 3 July 1930. HO 45/14299 part 2, Minutes of a Conference held at the Colonial Office ... 4 Sept. 1930 ... ; Town Clerk, Cardiff to Peter Freeman MP, 4 Nov. 1930; Arthur Henderson MP to Ramsay MacDonald, 21 Nov. 1930; Cardiff PAC to Secretary of State, Colonial Office, 9 Oct. 1930. CCC, PAC, 11 Sept., 12 Nov., 17 Dec. 1930, 21 Jan., 22 April 1931; WM, 16, 18 Sept., 15 Oct., 9,18 D e c ; The Seaman, 18 Oct. 1930; SWE, undated cutting, in HO 45/14299 part 1. CCC, PAC, 22 April 1931; 22 Sept. 1933; WM, 3 Oct. 1933. WM, 21 Sept. 1937; CCC, PAC, 20 Sept. 1937; 23 March 1939; Picture Post, 18 March 1939. HO 45/14299 part 2, Minutes of Immigration Inspectors' meeting, 14 Oct. 1930. Labour Party Archives, LP/SH1/34/3-5; Little, op.cit.; The Keys, Vol.Ill, No.l (July-Sept. 1935); WM, 2,5, 12,20 April,3May,4June, 19July,7 Aug. 1935,14 Aug. 1936. HO 213-350, Deputation ... 28 July 1936, pp. 2,3,11. HO213/352, Memorandum on Certificates of Naturalization, 7 Sept. 1936; Tramp Shipping Subsidy Committee to Secretary, National Maritime Board, 31 July 1935, 19 March 1936. Neil Evans, 'Urbanization, Elite Attitudes and Philanthrophy: Cardiff 1850-1914', International Review of Social History, Vol.XXVII, Part 3 (1982), deals with this matter. I hope to take the theme further in another piece, 'Darker Cardiff: The Underside of the City, 1850-1919'. W.R. Lambert, Drink and Sobriety in Victorian Wales (Cardiff, 1983), deals with the sheebeen issue. See my 'South Wales Race Riots' (1980), for details.

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60. CCC, Watch Committee, 16 Nov., 9 Dec. 1921, 11 Jan. 1922. 61. CCC, Health and Port Sanitary Committee, 25 Jan. 1922. 62. As well as the items in the press cited below, this account draws upon material in HO 45/14299 part 1, Chief Constable of Cardiff to Home Office, 14 Oct. 1930 and a minute sheet 562898/41. See also HO 213/308, Memorandum on Refreshment Houses 1935. Parliamentary Papers 1931-32, Vol. XI, Royal Commission on Licensing (Cmd. 3988), Report pp. 176-8; Minutes of Evidence, 37 James Arthur Wilson, paras. 9180, 9181-202, 9336-40, 9436-43, 949&-502; Appendix B. James A. Wilson was born in Leeds in 1877 and, after army service, joined police forces in Barnsley and Glamorgan, becoming Chief Constable of Merthyr Tydfil in 1908 and of Cardiff in 1920. He stressed his experience in shipping and industrial areas and was known for his persistence, effort and tight discipline over the force. See WM, 20, 30 Oct. 1920. 63. WM, 10, 23 Jan. 1929. 64. Ibid. 65. Ibid., 23 Jan. 1929. The report was publicized in many national newspapers, for example, The Times, 11 Jan. 1929, Daily Telegraph, 10 Jan. 1929, Daily Herald, 11 Jan. 1929. Similar views informed an initialled letter in The Welsh Outlook, Vol.XXVIII (May 1931), pp.137-8.1 am grateful to Jon Parry for this last reference. 66. WM, 11 April 1929. HO 213/308, Memorandum on refreshment houses. 67. WM, 28 Jan. 1929. 68. Ibid., 6 June 1929, 9 May 1930; CCC, Reports of the Juvenile Employment Committee, 1929, 1930, 1932, 1935, 1938. 69. WM, 25 Jan. 1927, 10, 23 Jan., 11 April, 6 June 1929. 70. WM, 10 Dec. 1929; The Seaman, 18 Dec. 1929,15 Jan., 23 April 1930. M.E. Fletcher, Report on an Investigation into the Colour Problem in Liverpool and Other Ports (Liverpool, c. 1930), pp.54-5. For the context of this report, see Paul B. Rich, 'Philanthropic Racism in Britain: The Liverpool University Settlement, the AntiSlavery Society and the Issue of "Half-caste" children, 1919-51', Immigrants and Minorities, Vol.3, No. 1 (March 1984). 71. For earlier campaigns see M.J. Daunton, 'Jack Ashore: Seamen in Cardiff before 1914', Welsh History Review, Vol.9, No.2 (Dec. 1978). 72. HO 45/14299 part 1, Chief Constable of Cardiff to Home Office, 14 Oct. 1930, Minute Sheet 562898/41; Secretary, Maltese Imperial Government to Agent General for Malta, 30 Sept. 1930; Petition of 49 Maltese seamen in south Wales, 15 Aug. 1930; NUS Malta to Superintendent, Malta Emigration Office, Valletta (received in Home Office, 9 Oct. 1930). 73. WM, 27 June, 7 Nov. 1935; Ministry of Labour and National Service and the Ministry of War Transport, Seamen's Welfare in Ports (London 1945). 74. The following account is based on WM, 8, 9, 10, 12, 15 July 1935. 75. The Keys, Vol.Ill, No.2, (Oct.-Dec. 1935); WM, 8 July 1935 (leader). There is a copy of Richardson's report in HO 213/308. Similar issues about control of entry, halfcastes, repatriation etc. arose out of representations by The Welfare of Africans in Europe War Fund to the Home Office in 1936. See HO 213/349; HO 213/350, HO 213/352, HO 213/353. Civil servants successfully resisted many calls for a public inquiry into the position of coloured seamen in 1935-36. 76. HO 213/350, Deputation . . . 28 July 1936, remark of Rev. Stanley Watson, p.10; Ministry of Transport 9/4377; CCC, Health and Port Sanitary Committee, 22 April 1925. 77. WM, 15 Jan., 26 Feb., 20, 24 June, 1,7,10,17 July 1936, 9 Feb. 1937,15 Dec. 1944,1 March 1945; Daily Express, 15 July 1936; CCC, Housing and Town Planning Committee, 25 Feb., 4, 23 March, 28 April 1936; 27 April, 2 Sept. 1937; 20 July, 7 Oct. 1938; University College Cardiff, Cardiff Trades Council, Executive Committee, Minutes, 1 March 1945. 78. The Keys, Vol.1, No.3 (Jan. 1934), p.61. 79. WM, 4 Oct. 1934. There certainly were some Communists in Butetown. It is surprising that the moral panic of 1935 did not take up this theme. The Western Mail spent the whole of the period Bolshevik-baiting in the South Wales valleys.

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80. WM, 6, 9 April 1934, 15 July 1935. 81. Pacifist Service Unit, op.cit., p.6; The Keys, Vol.III, No.2 (Oct.-Dec. 1935), p.20. The discussion which follows brings some resistance to the surface. I suspect that most of the iceberg remains covered. Harry Joshua's work on Butetown will, hopefully, recover more of it. 82. WM, 8 Dec. 1925. 83. HO 45/12314, George P. Willett to Home Office, 7, 30 April, 7 May 1925. 84. WM, 9 Oct. 1936, 6 May 1937; Times, 22 March 1962; Illustrated, 6 March 1943; Picture Post, 25 Sept. 1943. 85. WM, 19 Aug., 29 Oct. 1936; CCC, Parks and Open Spaces Committee, 16 Sept., 18 Nov. 1936. 86. HO 45/12314, Memorandum 21 Oct. 1925. For the 1919 resistance, see my articles in Llafur; for street resistance see above, p.76. 87. WM, 2 Dec. 1933; J o s h u a s ai, op.cit., p.35; HO 45/13392, Joynson-Hicks to Sidney Webb, 21 Nov. 1927, Sir Arthur Evans to Joynson-Hicks, 22 Nov. 1927. 88. WM, 2 Oct. 1933, 28 Aug. 1934. 89. The Keys, Vol.1, No.l, (July 1933), pp.2, 10; Vol.1, No.2 (Oct. 1933), p.31; Vol.1, No.3 (Jan. 1934); Vol.2, No.l (July-Sept. 1934), p. 1; Vol.2, No.2 (Oct.-Dec. 1934), p.43; Vol.2, No.3 (Jan.-March 1936), p.58 and especially the editor's introduction; R.J. MacDonald, 'The Wisers who are Far Away: The Role of London's Black Press in the 1930's and 40's', paper presented to the International Conference on the History of Blacks in Britain, 1981. CO 876/16, a minute sheet, refers to Moody as an 'enthusiast': quotation from The Keys, Vol.2, No.4 (April-June 1935). 90. MacDonald, op.cit., WM, 21 Sept. 1937; The Keys, Vol.VI, No.l (July-Sept. 1938), p.5; interview with Idris Cox (former South Wales organizer of the Communist Party), 26 Aug. 1984. 91. SWE, 12 Jan. 1942 (I owe this reference to Marika Sherwood); 13, 14 Sept. 1943. 92. Picture Post, 25'Sept. 1943; Illustrated, 6 March 1943; WM, 10,11, 12 Dec. 1942; CO 876/64, Memorandum by George Young, 2 Nov. 1942; CO 876/6, Khachadsurian to Keith, 20 Sept. 1943. 93. SWE, 9,10,11,15 Sept. 1943; WM, 12,13,14,17Sept., 13Oct. 1945; K.L. Little,'The Coloured Folk of Cardiff - A Challenge to Reconstruction', New Statesman and Nation, 19 Dec. 1942. 94. The Times, 24 Sept. 1942; Graham A. Smith, 'Jim Crow on the Home Front (1942-1945)', New Community, Vol. VIII, No.3 (Winter 1980), provides some context here. 95. CO 876/16/64/65. Even the Maltese got a club named the George Cross Club in memory of the Island's suffering in the Second World War. 96. CO 876/31, K.L. Little to Keith, 25 March 1942; SWE, 3 June 1943. 97. CO 876/65, Minutes of Cardiff Advisory Committee, 28 May 1943. 98. CO 876/27, passim. Mr Nino Abdi remembers his father being involved in post-war disputes. 99. CO 876/26, passim. 100. CO 876/65, J.G. Cummings, Report on Cardiff Colonial Centre. 101. CO 876/31, passim. 102. Harriet Wilson, 'Housing Survey of the Docks Area in Cardiff, Sociological Review, Vol.XLII (1950); Dilip Hiro, 'Three Generations of Tiger Bay', New Society, 21 Sept. 1967; Western Mail Library, Cuttings on Butetown, 1952ff. 103. Butetown Mardi Gras Carnival Programme 1967. 104. Little, Negroes in Britain, introduction by Leonard Bloom. 105. John Rex et al., Colonial Immigrants in a British City; A Class Analysis (London, 1979), p.285. 106. The Keys, Vol.III, No.2 (Oct.-Dec. 1935), p.21. 107. The Seaman, 25 Feb. 1931. 108. Ibid., 8 Oct. 1930. 109. For example, The Seaman, 4 Feb. 1929, 9 Sept. 1931. 110. The Keys, Vol.IV, No.3 (Jan.-March 1937), p.32; George Leather, 'Bute Town', New

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111.

112. 113. 114. 115.

116. 117. 118. 119. 120. 121. 122. 123. 124. 125. 126. 127. 128.

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Statesman and Nation, 10 Nov. 1951, pp.522, refers to a frequently-expressed feeling that 'We've always been victimized by the unions' (David Rubinstein kindly provided this reference). Basil Mogridge, 'Militancy and Inter-Union Rivalry in the British Shipping Industry 1911-1927', International Review of Social History, Vol.VI (1961) gives a clear account of its evolution. See also, for the PC5, LP/SEA/18/13, Robert Williams to Arthur Henderson, 31 Aug. 1922. The Seaman, 4 May 1932. Ibid., 4 May 1932. Ibid., for example, 20 May 1931 (but almost any issue will do!). For a discussion of ethnic stereotyping in another situation, see Daniel Nelson, Managers and Workers: Origins of the New Factory System in the United States 1880-1920 (Madison and London, 1975), pp.81-2. Interview with J.E. Thomas, 25 Oct. 1979; HO 45/11897, Report of Liverpool Immigration Officer, 17 Feb. 1921 ; HO 213/350, Deputation . . . [to the] . . . Home Office, 28 July 1936, p.12. LP/SEA/18/15-16; The Seaman, 23 April, 8 Oct. 1930, 9 Sept., 7 Oct., 4 Nov. 1931. The Keys, Vol.V, No.l (July-Sept. 1937), p.26. Little, Negroes in Britain, pp. 106-7 and passim; HO 45/11897, Report of Liverpool Immigration Officer, 18 Feb. 1921; Deputation to Board of Trade 1923. HO 45/13392 Anderson to Lindsey 15 Jan. 1929. Interview with James Ernest, 14 Feb. 1978 - he clearly saw some employers as giving jobs to coloured men and some as discriminatory; Syren and Shipping, 14 Nov. 1934. WM, 28 Oct. 1920. HO 45/12314, note on file signed LP., 24 April 1925. HO 213/308; HO 213/352, passim. Michael Barratt-Brown, After Imperialism (revised edition, London, 1970), Ch.4. HO 45/11897, Letter to Superintending Aliens Officer, Cardiff, 14 May 1917. Smith, op. cit. The Keys, Vol.Ill, No.l (July-Sept. 1935), p.21. Joshua et al., op.cit., p.32 make a similar point in slightly different terms. HO 213/308, Letter to A.N. Rucker, 21 Oct. 1935; HO 213/349, Undated minute sheet.

'It is not a case of numbers': A Case Study of Institutional Racism in Britain, 1941^43 Despite some recent pioneering work, studies of black immigration into Britain have concentrated on the post-Second World War period. This article deals with a significant 'rehearsal' of official attitudes towards black immigrants: British Hondurans who came to Britain as wartime forestry workers. Using government department files and oral evidence, the nature and extent of prejudice and discrimination is clearly illustrated. Their eventual repatriation was the result of a campaign which was often racist; the study of responses to their presence in Britain reveals the complex nature of racial attitudes at government and local levels at that time. Although the recent appearance of Peter Fryer's massive tome on the history of blacks in Britain1 has served as a reminder of the significance of settlement before the 1950s, detailed information on many aspects of black history and on white attitudes before this time is still limited. James Walvin has noted the 'abundance of documentation in the Public Record Office' for the period of the Second World War2 but has not produced any major assessment of its significance. Questions not only about the details of work and lifestyle of blacks in Britain, but also about white attitudes to blacks, in this period are still left unanswered. This particular article sets out to deal with some of the crucial dimensions of British racial attitudes during the war period and therefore offers some insights into the attitudes which black immigrants in the post-war period could expect to confront. There were three disparate groups of black people in Britain during the Second World War: black residents, imported black contract workers and black troops, colonial and American. Until the 1940s the black residents, of African, West Indian, Indian and Arab descent, lived mainly around the ports. There were also black professionals, musicians, shop-keepers, workers and peddlers scattered throughout the country, probably totalling 10,000 or so people altogether. The few official reports on these black communities invariably speak of depressed living conditions, meagre earnings and the reluctance of the white employer to give jobs to blacks.3 The plight of jobless young blacks was causing official concern in 1930 as much as it is in the 1980s. Discrimination and what in those days was called the 'colour bar' were rampant: hotels, boarding houses, landlords, pubs, dance halls, swimming pools, some universities, the armed forces, sporting associations, and, during the war, people in air- raid shelters attempted to exclude blacks. The first survey on racial prejudice in Britain, carried out in 1918, found that 81 per cent of the sample questioned displayed prejudice against 'coloured' people. 4

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Twelve years later, an investigation into attitudes among schoolchildren in Wales found 'the fact of racial prejudice well established'. 5 During the 1920s and 1930s, the state attempted to reserve employment in the merchant marine for whites6 and deported numbers of unemployed blacks. Within one month of the outbreak of war, on 19 October 1939, the government announced publicly that the colour bar in the armed forces would be lifted; privately, the State informed its officers abroad that 'only offers of service from white British subjects should be considered'. 7 Into this inauspicious climate the government decided to import a number of groups of black workers: British Honduran lumbermen were sent to Scotland; craftsmen from Jamaica to the munitions factories on Merseyside and craft-trainees from the British West Indies to factories in the north-west. 8 Groups of trainees, some 700 in all, were also brought from India to the Government Training Centres; on completing six months' training they were returned home in order to 'increase the output of munitions in India'. 9 Numbers of men and women also came to Britain from the colonies voluntarily, wanting to aid the 'Mother Country' in her struggle against the Nazis. As they were not wanted in the armed forces, they, along with the previously unemployed black residents, were absorbed by the voracious wartime industries. The final group of blacks in Britain during the war were the colonials in the RAF and Afro-American troops, who began to arrive in May 1942.10 Eventually some 100,000 black troops in segregated units passed through Britain. The British Cabinet decided 'that it was desirable that the people of this country should avoid becoming too friendly with coloured American troops';" women especially were advised not to associate with black men. However, associate they did: the wrath of racist white troops was aroused and, after numerous pitched battles in pubs and dance halls up and down the country, many public places of entertainment excluded blacks. In order to retain the custom of the white Americans, many hotels, cafés and restaurants followed suit; segregation even spread to Red Cross Clubs, ATS-run canteens and ENS A entertainments. This increase in racism naturally affected the black residents and black colonials who found themselves banished from places previously open to them. Of the blacks who came to Britain to join the armed forces, very little is known. It was only the RAF that accepted large numbers of colonials. About 1,000 West Indians served as air-crew and a further 4,000-5,000, recruited in 1944 for ground-crew duties, were stationed in Britain.12 This article is concerned with discussions within and between government departments in relation to the recruitment, treatment and repatriation of one of the groups of imported contract workers, the British Hondurans. 13 The men's experience, and therefore their history, is only adumbrated by the material in the government files; the full history of the British Honduran Forestry Unit therefore remains to be written.

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What emerges from the files is racialism amongst all ranks of government servants, which led, naturally and inevitably, to racist practice. The local population with whom the Hondurans had contact varied in their attitude from friendly to deeply prejudiced: all, except those women who married Hondurans, regarded relations between black men and white women with disapproval if not horror. The reaction of the government to these ultimately unwanted workers was unequivocal: repatriation. Such a sentiment is finding echoes in the 1980s. Recruitment By the 1930s, 95 per cent of Britain's timber requirements were imported. At the outbreak of war some of Britain's traditional suppliers immediately fell into enemy hands; when the war spread to the Atlantic, importation from Canada ceased. Britain had, therefore, to cut her own timber and find increasing numbers of workers from an ever-decreasing pool of available labour. Women, conscientious objectors, aliens, schoolboys, two civilian forestry units and 26 military forestry units from Australia, Canada and New Zealand augmented the skilled timber workers. From 1942, POWs and Irish labour were also used. Scotland, one of the chief timber-producing areas, was host to large numbers of allied troops and to English war workers and evacuees during the war. Much of the US army passed through Scotland on its way to the European theatre of war. Of the allied troops stationed there, 6,160 men were in forestry companies. As part of the military, these units, and especially the Canadians, came equipped with the most modern machinery and even introduced new techniques of sawmilling. The Canadians, who had come as self-contained units (whereas the Australians and New Zealanders needed unskilled workers for such work as clearing, burning, stacking and loading), showed the highest production output.14 As military units, these lumbermen had access to NAAFI stores and special places of entertainment reserved for the armed forces which, of course, were 'off limits' to the Hondurans and Newfoundlanders. The first group of civilian forestry workers to be brought to Scotland were the Newfoundlanders, who had previously cut timber there during the First World War. The Ministry of Supply, which had taken over the Forestry Commission and renamed it the Home Timber Production Department, imported 2,000 'Newfie' loggers during 1940. The men were employed on six-monthly contracts at the end of which they could apply for a free passage home, enlist in the Forces or re-engage for a further six months. At the end of the first six months, a third of the Newfoundlanders applied to return home, claiming that they had 'received inadequate treatment at the hand of this country'.15 More men were recruited, on new contracts which were for the duration of the war, thus keeping the strength of the Unit to just over 2,000 men. Conditions, however, did not improve. Mr Pearson, a representative of the Newfoundland government, reported on 7 March 1941 that 'the main responsibility for the comparative lack of success of the Logger Unit appears to fall upon the Forestry

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Commission. The lack of preparation for their arrival and equally the lack of organization . . . even today equipment is not complete . . . there is a growing food scarcity'.16 Later the same year the Department of Health complained of the unsanitary conditions in some of the camps. Dominions Office officials visiting the Newfoundland camps in February 1942 found them to be 'little more than prisoners' compounds' with men 'in an almost mutinous condition'. T h e attitude of the Ministry of Supply seems to be one of indifference . . . welfare organization in so far as it does exist in the NFU is pitifully inadequate The HTPD either do not know or do not care to learn the real conditions under which the men live', the officials reported. 17 The Ministry of Supply, forced into investigating the camp conditions by a veritable barrage of letters from Clement Attlee, who, besides being Secretary of State for the Dominions, was also Deputy Prime Minister, wrote in its report in June 1942: the Unit, having got a bad name at the beginning of its career, has been treated by the H.T.P.D. with annoyance and suspicion, a point of view which was fully appreciated by the Unit . . . they had been given timber to cut which was situated on very difficult ground and which had been refused by other Units.18 This did not bode well for the Hondurans, the second group of civilian forestry workers to be imported. The Ministry turned to British Honduras as it was the only part of the Empire from where skilled civilian forestry workers could be imported for low wages; as the Colonial Office noted in an internal memorandum, military units (all the forestry workers from the white Dominions came in such units) were twice as expensive as civilian units. British Honduras, or Belize as it is now known, became a British colony in 1862. Its economy and population were dissimilar from other colonies in the Caribbean: the economy was based on the export of mahogany and chicle; the population was comprised of Creoles (people of African descent), Mayas, Caribs, Guatemalans, Mexicans, Syrians, Chinese and Europeans. Although English was the language of government, the first language of many was either Maya or Spanish. Those who owned the extractive industries (largely British and American-owned firms) had been relatively prosperous until 1931, when a combination of natural disasters (hurricane, fire and floods) and the world slump reduced the colony to penury. The Mother Country came to the rescue, but, as usual, at a price: in exchange for a loan of $1 million, the British government demanded reserve powers for the Governor and control of the colony's finances. British Honduras did not prosper under this rule; in the words of the Senior Medical Officer it was a 'very backward colony'. There were only 35 miles of all-weather roads; malaria and VD were widespread; the seven hospitals providing a total of 66 beds all 'require[d] a considerable amount of modernising'; the maternal mortality rate was two-and-a-half times that of Britain; the two-thirds of the school-age population which was enrolled in schools attended classes with a pupil

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teacher ratio of 63:1. There was one sugar mill, one saw mill and two factories. There were no trade unions, no workers' compensation schemes, no wages agreements; unemployment and underemployment were chronic. Among those underemployed were the mahogany cutters who worked for approximately six months of the year on a task basis.19 In 1939 the newly appointed Labour Officer to the Government of British Honduras met a situation described by the Governor in a telegram to the Colonial Office on 13 March 1939 as ' ... suffering and uneasiness acute in Belize. Due to unemployment. Developing into a dangerous situation'. The position had not improved by the middle of July 1940, when the Labour Officer's memorandum to the Colonial Office read: 'Our immediate problem is unemployment with attendant starvation and social unrest. Things here are bad, very bad.' Not surprisingly, therefore, when the Colonial Office telegrammed the Governor on 23 May 1941 asking if up to 500 foresters could be made available for work in Britain, the immediate reply was 'no problem'. The Colonial Office, negotiating on behalf of the Ministry of Supply to whom they had proposed the use of British Honduran foresters, informed the Governor of the Ministry's requirements in terms of the crafts and skills required. The Governor replied with a warning: 'this is logging country, not lumbering': the required number of sawyers was 'impossible ... even six will strain our resources'; he also pointed out that even in Panama the men had earned better wages.20 However, as the need for imported labour in Central America had ceased at the outbreak of war, despite the low wages being offered, 1,938 men applied when recruitment began in July. Of these, 857 were rejected on medical grounds; the 541 men accepted left Belize on 5 August 1941. The Governor's enthusiasm for getting rid of part of his unemployed labour force, even if it meant losing some of the colony's skilled workers, was not matched by those awaiting the men's arrival in Britain. Mr Robinson, Chairman of the Forestry Commission, 'was not in favour at any stage at [sic] bringing over coloured labour which he though might be satisfactory in France, but unworkable in this country'.21 The Duke of Buccleuch, a large landowner in south-west Scotland, whose timber was to be cut for war purposes, was remembered by J.L. Keith, Senior Welfare Officer at the Colonial Office, as raising 'a lot of objections when it was proposed to bring the British Honduran foresters over ... [he] thought a good deal of Police control would be required'.22 Sir S. Strang Steel, Director of the Home Timber Production Department, in a memorandum dated 3 July 1941, did not 'feel inclined to take responsibility for placing these men from British Honduras on private estates close to the houses and cottages occupied by estate employees unless there is a resident white officer in charge of each camp ... \23 Nevertheless, it was decided to import the Hondurans. In the contracts sent to Belize a number of conditions were laid down. These included: (1) free transport to and from the forestry camps in Britain

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a working week of 48 hours for a wage of £3, less board and lodging free medical services (4)tools and an initial supply of working clothes and boots (replacements had to be paid for) a term of engagement of three years or the duration of the war, whichever was less termination of employment by one month's notice by the Officer in Charge of the Unit after one year from the date of arrival in the United Kingdom.

A number of other emphases were present: (7) (8) (9)

(10)

Finally, it

unsatisfactory work or conduct punishable by instant dismissal and repatriation bad or indifferent work or misbehaviour punishable by a fine or reduction in pay workers to receive half pay for days lost due to illness and no pay for days lost due to bad weather (however, if a man's work was satisfactory, in bad weather he had to receive a minimum of 75 pence per week) incapacitated men were to come under the provisions of the UK Workmen's Compensation Act but were liable to dismissal and repatriation if unable to work (ll)transfer to any other employment or to the armed forces was forbidden. was laid down that there would be an

(12) immediate return to British Honduras on the expiration of the contract (though special permission to remain in the UK temporarily for a specified period could be sought from the Officer in Charge).24 These contracts made the Hondurans bound workers; they came to Britain as indentured labour, unaware that the white Briton was employed on very different terms of employment. Not only different terms, but better wages: the wages offered the men who had been recruited as skilled workers, 60/- per week, was at the bottom end of the wage scale for unskilled labour (51/- to 76/- per week) and only 21- above the 58/- wage made mandatory for forestry and agriculture volunteer workers by the Temporary Workers in Agriculture (Scotland) (Minimum Wages) Order of 1943. This discriminatory wage, together with the 'indentured' labour of the contracts, constitutes institutional racism in which the Ministries of Supply and Labour and the Colonial Office colluded. The Hondurans in Scotland Because of the submarine warfare raging in the Atlantic, the men had to

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sail via Trinidad and Halifax: the first two groups, of 301 men, reached Scotland by September 1941 without mishap; the third group was delayed in Trinidad, missed its troopship convoy in Halifax, and was eventually torpedoed. Luckily their ship, the SS Svend Foyn, managed to limp into Reykjavik harbour without loss of life, but with the loss of all the men's luggage. They finally reached Scotland towards the end of October 1941. The fact that there was no period of acclimatization for these men from the tropics sent to work in the Scottish cold must have accounted for much of the illness and discomfort from which they suffered when they first arrived. Although the Unit only had one foreman, one medical officer (who was also expected to act as welfare officer), one medical orderly and one officer-in-charge, the men were split into three camps, at Duns and East Linton in south-east Scotland, and Kirkpatrick Fleming in the southwest. Thus, from the very beginning, it was inevitable that with a numerically inadequate medical/welfare and management team, there would be serious problems. However, it was not this but the conditions in the camps which worried the officials of the Colonial Office when they visited the camps in mid-September. Their memorandum listed uncompleted heating and hot water services, unlined and too few sleeping huts, unfurnished recreation huts, and not enough lighting (there was no electricity). No warm underwear had been issued and the men were only provided with one suit of working clothes which meant they would have to work in damp clothing as there were no facilities for drying rain-soaked or washed clothes.23 But, despite their concern over conditions in the camps, the Colonial Office raised no objections and made no conditions when the Ministry of Supply requested a further 500 men early in 1942. That the Ministry should have asked for more men, despite its constant expressions of dissatisfaction with the Hondurans, could be taken to indicate that the complaints had no basis in reality. However, as Panama was again recruiting workers, the Governor could not supply the required number: the 331 men engaged arrived in November 1942 and were sent to camps in Sutherland-shire and Rossshire in the north of Scotland. The men's winter arrival was mitigated slightly by the northern camps being better laid out and with more solidly constructed huts. All but one of the camps were in extremely isolated areas with no public transport to the nearest towns; two of the camps were in Protected Areas, which meant that visitors were not allowed. These inauspicious arrivals were not followed by rapid improvements. By the end of 1941, after considerable pressure from the Colonial Office, warm underwear was made available, but as it had to be paid for many men refused to buy any. The Colonial Office also found that the second suit of working clothes had not been issued; the boots given to the men were not waterproof, and no gloves had been issued; the huts, especially at East Linton, were still very cold and despite the men evidently suffering from the effects of the cold, hot drinks or warm food were not available at midday. The men who had lost all their belongings in the

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torpedoed ship had received neither compensation nor replacement clothing. (It was not unil May 1942 that compensation was agreed.) There were also problems over food: the Unit had brought its own cooks, but their expertise with tropical foods was inappropriate to the foodstuffs available in wartime Scotland. Added problems were caused by the men being used to a high intake of sugar, which was in very short supply in Britain, and their reluctance to eat mutton or lamb, the most easily obtained meat, but one with which they were quite unfamiliar. Eventually, at the insistence of Mr Robertson, the Unit's manager, the army sent over some cooks to instruct the Hondurans in the preparation of dried eggs and other wartime delights.26 As some of the men had arrived ill and with incompletely treated VD, doubts were cast on the efficiency of Dr Patterson, the Medical Officer who had travelled with the men from Belize. Another doctor was called in to examine the men: 14 were admitted into hospital; 30 were found to have serious dental problems and 25 were suffering from VD. Mr I. Cummings, a Colonial Office Welfare Officer, reported that Dr Patterson was very unpopular with the men and that as he spent at least half his time in the comfort of the Unit's headquarters in Edinburgh, the men were receiving inadequate medical attention.27 Rudolph Dunbar's January 1942 Report on Social Welfare Among Coloured People on the Tyne Side included an account of the unsatisfactory conditions in the Scottish camps and remarked that the Medical Officer treated everything with pink pills and was very harsh towards the men.28 Mr Keith, the CO's Senior Welfare Officer, recommended that Dr Patterson should be sent back to Honduras as he was 'patently unable to carry out the necessary health and welfare measures'. 29 The Ministry of Supply agreed to this in May 1942,30 but it was not until September that Dr Patterson left for Belize. The medical care of the men was then put in the hands of the grossly overworked local GPs, who had to threaten to withdraw their services in order to obtain adequate remuneration from the Ministry of Supply. This arrangement was clearly so unsatisfactory, especially for the very isolated camps in the north, that the Colonial Office eventually suggested that a medical officer should be appointed to the Unit. This suggestion was, however, not made until the repatriation discussions of August 1943.31 By then the Colonial Office was even contemplating that it should take over the running of the camps. Although clearly uninterested in the men's health, the Ministry paid an inordinate amount of attention to the incidence of VD among them. A special report on VD, dated 14 July 1943, enumerated in great detail the numbers who had ever suffered from VD and compared these (very unfavourably) with the numbers of VD patients amongst the general population and the army.32 A special section of the Ministry's 1944 report on the BHFU referred to 'alarming figures' and stated that 'the problem of the prevention of VD in a Unit consisting of coloured men divorced from their families is insoluble . . . the men were infected when on leave . . . the provision of prophylactic measures in the camps themselves would 5

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be of no use'.33 Whether the Ministry ever attempted to discover if propaganda on prophylactic measures would be useful is very doubtful. This was indicated by a CO memorandum in late August 1943 to the effect that the Ministry was not doing enough to combat the disease. It was felt that 'it was absolutely useless to distribute leaflets and written propaganda . . . many cannot read English.'34 The Colonial Office advocated the use of films.35 But this suggestion came much too late, as did the suggestion for improving the medical service: the men's health, and especially the incidence of VD, was one of the excuses used by the Ministry for repatriating the men before the expiration of their contracts. During 1942, the Colonial Office's Welfare Officers continued their visits to the camps. In December 1942, Mr Keith found the Duns camp to be 'dirty and sordid . . . a sea of mud' ; the men were having to use packing cases for furniture in their sleeping huts; the recreation hut annexe at Kirkpatrick Fleming was still unfinished in February 1943, and ENSA had announced that visits would be discontinued because the 'rough conditions will injure the delicate mechanism of their machines'. Mr Keith thought conditions in both camps to be a 'public scandal'.36 A more personal glimpse of the camps and the men they housed is given by Dr S.K. Drainer, Deputy Medical Officer of Health in Dumfries (the town nearest to Kirkpatrick Fleming camp) during the war: In my opinion, the conditions ar the camp were not satisfactory. The huts were of wood and without insulation . . . the men complained always of the cold - even in what passed for Summer in these climes! At the same time, these were wartime conditions, and were no worse than members of the armed forces had to endure by way of dormitory accommodation, ablutions, dining and recreation facilities . . . I have the impression that no matter how well housed or well clothed they were, they would still be less able to withstand the climatic conditions of wartime Britain than would the indigenous population. 37 The Colonial Office tried to bring pressure on the Ministry to improve conditions in the camps: in July 1942 the Ministry appointed a welfare officer to the BHFU: Major Stewart, the new Officer, described by Mr Keith as 'elderly, deaf but shrewd and honest', resigned within five months of his appointment because 'he had no support from Headquarters and is unable to get things done'. 38 Two new Welfare Officers were appointed, Captain W. Cheyne-Macpherson for the southern camps and a Barbadian, Mr Vivian Harris, for the northern camps. With the help of the Welfare Officers and continuing pressure from the Colonial Office, life in the camps improved. Within a couple of months of his appointment, Mr Harris's untiring efforts provided the men with recreation huts equipped with libraries, wireless, piano and some other musical instruments. He set up camp shops, arranged for film screenings and initiated classes in literacy, maths and English. But even Mr Harris

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could not prevail against the Ministry's indifference: in July 1943 (that is, eight months after arrival), the Colonial Office noted that further welfare measures would need to be taken before the onset of winter and that the men had not yet had any leave. In the southern camps, Captain Cheyne-Macpherson started literary and debating societies, arranged for local teachers to hold English and maths classes and managed to acquire enough instruments for the men at Duns to form a jazz band. As no instructors were available, some of the men took correspondence classes in motor engineering with various institutes. The Colonial Office also interested the British Council and the Colonial Comforts Fund in the plight of the Hondurans, so that recreational material, some sports equipment and musical instruments began to arrive at the camps; by the end of the year the YMCA had established canteens in the southern camps.39 In both the southern and the northern camps conditions fluctuated according to the qualities of the camp managers appointed by the Ministry, who admitted in their official Report in 1944 that 'it is impossible to obtain the right stamp of man at the salary offered (£335 p . a . ) . . . none of the various Camp Managers appointed can be said to have been wholly satisfactory . . . at four of the camps there were 10 changes in management'. 40 The southern camps were administered from Edinburgh; for the northern camps a District Office was set up in Dingwall, but 'this office was never satisfactory, mainly due to personnel difficulties',41 the Report states. Mr Keith expressed his dissatisfaction with the Ministry's administration in the memorandum dated 17 August 1943: 'We have never been wholly satisfied with the Ministry's administration of the Unit . . . If General Carrington feels unable to cope with the administration, let us propose replacing him'.42 But again, overworked Mr Keith's suggestion came too late and fell on deaf ears. Besides being inadequate managers, an indication of the attitudes of these men towards the Hondurans can be seen from the comment of an unnamed manager at the Duns camp in 1942: 'these men', he wrote, 'who had much of the child in their composition, often found it genuinely impossible, when charged with avoidable absenteeism after a lapse of weeks to say whether they had in fact been absent on the day in question'. 43 Not only did the Ministry employ the men on discriminatory terms and wages, deny them efficient medical care and appoint incompetent and racialist men to manage their inadequate camps; it also frequently misused the men's skills. A report for July 1942 states that the men were engaged in pitwood felling and sawing, in the manufacture of pitprops and in 'assisting the operations of Nos. 1 and 3 Australian Forestry Companies'. 44 In December 1942 the men at Kirkpatrick Fleming were being employed to do much rougher work for the more highly skilled Australians. This worked all right with No. 1 Company but with No. 3, 'relations were much less happy'.45 Mr McCune, the Duke of Buccleuch's

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chief forester at the time, remembers the Hondurans working on the Duke's property as being amenable, quiet spoken . . . wanted to get on with the job . . . they may have had a certain skill, but were classed as labourers . . . they didn't get along with the Australians at all well . . . the Australians seemed to look down on them . . . the Duchess thought the Australians were rather harsh with them.46 There were grievances over the use of a bonus system and the subsequent uneven earnings amongst different groups of workers, particularly those in the mills. This led to a go-slow policy, which then became a strike by 30 men on 18 September 1942. The Conciliation Officer was called in and persuaded the men to accept the UK grievance procedures and return to work. He reported on 22 September 1942 that the Hondurans were 'principally employed indirectly as labourers to craftsmen who are members of the Australian Expeditionary Force'. 47 1 have not been able to discover what the outcome of the 'grievance procedure' was; nowhere, however, is there a mention of any of the Hondurans ever receiving craftsmen's wages. The Ministry of Supply's 1944 Report stated that besides working for the Australians, the Hondurans were also engaged in completing the building of their camps and on 'clearing up and finishing certain operations started by the Newfoundland Forestry Unit'. During the winter months of 1941/2 production was at a very low level. In April 1942 the men were gradually put on to piece work. Production started to increase and continued to do so until disciplinary powers (fines for bad work) were taken away. These powers were considered by legal authority to be ultra vires.48 An undated Ministry report for 1943 called the men 'fundamentally lazy' and found that they needed 'the influence of discipline or reward to get them to produce their maximum'.49 The Ministry produced endless volumes of figures demonstrating that the production of the BHFU was below that of other forestry units - a result they attributed to laziness and lack of disciplinary powers, but which well might be thought to result from bad and racialist management, bad living conditions, inadequate clothing, low and inappropriate pay, few recreational opportunities, unaccustomed working conditions, unfamiliar work and the racialist attitude of Ministry officials, as well as the superior equipment used by the military companies. Strang Steel believed that the communities near the Hondurans' camps would reflect his own racialist attitudes: he demanded that Honduran 'foremen should be white. ' 'This is most important as we must respect, not only the feelings of the proprietors of the estates on which these men will be camped, but we must also consider the feelings of people living in the surrounding villages and cottages'. 50 At least one member of the aristocracy held attitudes similar to Strang Steel's. In August 1942 the Duke of Buccleuch expressed his outrage over the Hondurans' presence in his fief dom directly to Harold Macmillan, then Under-Secretary of State for the Colonies. 'Does the Colonial Office have any policy about their

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association with white women?', he asked ' . . . there have been a number of marriages and births, and much intercourse is allowed even in the Camp itself. . . . Personally, I dislike this mixture of colour and regret that it should be allowed with no discouragement. There are already sufficient births of foreign extraction in the country without the added complication of colour'.51 The Colonial Office felt obliged to make a most thorough investigation of these allegations, and found one marriage, no births, no intercourse in the camp (Kirkpatrick Fleming) and no complaints from local residents. Despite this rebuttal, and his lack of intimate knowledge of local events as he only visited his seat at Drumlanrig Castle on weekends, the Duke was not to be pacified so easily. T think it can be admitted that loose relations between black men of totally different standards, both moral and material, and our simple country girls had unpleasant features and that improper intercourse with decent young women should be strongly discouraged',52 he wrote on 30 September 1942 to Macmillan, whose reply was equally racialist in tone : 'it is, of course, obvious that if you bring coloured men to this country for war purposes, there will naturally be the risk of some undesirable results . . . . All we can do is mitigate the evil as far as possible'.53 Although the local people might well have regarded the 'undesirable results' of the men's presence as 'evil', only one complaint is recorded by the Colonial Office. On 18 September 1941 it was noted that 'at Kirkpatrick the local publicans are not too keen on the British Hondurans because the public houses are too small'.54 The Duchess, in the true style of manorial patronage, visited the men and arranged for regular visits from the factor. Mr McCune, the chief forester, remembers that 'several of the local girls tried to make the men feel at home . . . took them honey and home baked bread and scones . . . their mothers went along too . . . it was all on the level The men amused themselves by playing musical instruments and singing'.55 Sir Harold Carrington, the Deputy Director of the Home Timber Production Department in Scotland, held similar attitudes to the Duke of Buccleuch. He busied himself with 'endeavouring to notify the parents and Ministers and pointing out the undesirability of such marriages' and reported in July 1943 that Dumfriesshire County Council had complained about 'discipline in the camps and VD . . . one specific complaint put forward was that attendance of these coloured men at the VD clinics was acting as a deterrent on other patients attending'. 56 Thus the two highestranking officials in the HTPD were not only racialist but attempted to press their views on the local community. The Minutes of the Dumfriesshire Council indicate that they had held a lengthy correspondence with the Scottish Home, Education and Health Departments on 'certain matters arising out of the residence of coloured workmen in the country', but as the correspondence itself has not been retained either in Edinburgh or Dumfries, it had not been possible to ascertain the nature of the complaints (or suggestions: the Department of Health and Education could in no way be in a position to entertain

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complaints about the Hondurans). Dr Drainer, the Deputy Medical Officer of Health was in charge of the VD clinic and categorically refutes the allegation that the Hondurans prevented other patients attending: this small Centre, which was quite adequate to serve the needs of the civilian population locally in peacetime was, by 1941, in process of being swamped by civilian cases, members of the armed forces and men from the camp at Kirkpatrick Fleming. To begin with the Hondurans attended along with all the others but, when their numbers increased, it seemed only reasonable that a day should be set aside for them. As they are brought to Dumfries attendances were regular... I think they looked upon their weekly trip to Dumfries as a sort of outing - a pleasure not shared by the County Clerk, who objected strenuously to their sunning themselves on fine days on the grass in front of the County Buildings. Dr Drainer remembers 'three children born to women in the vicinity of the camp whose putative fathers were from the camp'. This number - and we do not know if the mothers married the 'putative fathers' - does not seem very high in a county where illegitimacy 'has always been unduly high, sometimes approximating to double the rate for Scotland'.57 This report also deals with VD : the numbers of new cases had risen from 50 in 1939 to 236 in 1943, and 231 in 1945 ; the reasons given for this increase are: the presence of troops, female camp followers and 'the establishment of a camp of negro foresters, so many of whom were found to be infected that a special day had to be arranged for dealing with them,'. 58 (It should be noted that Dr Drainer's clinic was not given extra staff to deal with this increase in the number of patients. The acute shortage of medical and laboratory staff for the civilian population during the war was exacerbated by certain civilian clinics having also to cater for military personnel.) One is left wondering as to how the Hondurans were to conduct themselves : 'decent' girls were warned to stay away from them while if they consorted with prostitutes and contracted VD they met with opprobrium. Mr Keith of the Colonial Office understood the situation well: the Hondurans' 'immoralities get more publicity', he wrote early in 1943, 'and are more shocking to the susceptibilities of persons like the Duke of Buccleuch and his friends than would be the goings on of non-coloured persons'. 59 Mr Whitehorn, also of the Colonial Office, concurred with Mr Keith, that'Carrington is the villain of the piece Not only has he shown most regrettable lethargy in regard to the administration of the camps, but he has been guilty of petty chicanery in regard to one of the foresters'.60 At least in the south-west the efforts of the Duke and the Deputy Director seemed to result in the arousal of latent prejudice. Mr I. Cummings of the Colonial Office's welfare team, noted during a visit to East Linton that 'following some unpleasantness there, sexual and alcoholic, a deputation of local Ministers of the Kirk... suggested that the villages of East Linton and Duns should be put out of bounds'.61 Mr Keith, however, minuted that putting the villages out-of-bounds was quite

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unnecessary. T h e men are establishing very happy relations with the local people and are popular with them. There have been one or two unpleasant incidents but nothing that need cause us concern.'62 By the end of November the panic in the Church had subsided: the Presbytery of Duns Minutes record that 'Mr. Douglas reported on the presence in the district of lumbermen from British Honduras and the work the Church should do for them'. The Stenton Kirk Sessions for 14 January 1942 notes that 'the moderator intimated that with the co-operation of the minister of Whittinghame a weekly service was being held at the British Honduras camp which is in this parish\ The present minister in Stenton, who has very kindly made enquiries amongst his congregation, discovered that Dr Mackenzie, one of his predecessors at Stenton, came to the camp every Sunday night and took a Service for the men He and his wife were thought to have exercised some kind of pastoral concern for them Obviously, there was some initial reserve amongst the folk of East Lothian when the Hondurans came. But there were not so very many of them, and my older parishioners who remember them speak well of them. They were friendly and in some cases talented. One, Jimmy Christie, was invited by the Minister of Spott to play his trumpet at local kirk and village soirees. My impression is that they were respected locally, and that some people felt sorry for them since they were so far from home . . . No doubt illegitimacy in a few cases might have caused ill-feeling . . . but the overall reaction does not seem to have been hostile.63 Mrs James of Bielgrange remembers that 'some of the men visited in homes on the farm and were welcomed, but other local people prided themselves on keeping apart. Those who remember Hondurans at local dances say they were well behaved Involvement of local girls with Hondurans was generally frowned on'. Mrs Trueman, who worked in an approved school in the area, writes that she did not come into any contact with them, so what I know is hearsay . . . I used to hear of the fellows having parties, etc. . . . there were two black babies - one causing a divorce!! I believe both girls married their Hondurans who have proved kind husbands (so far as I know). The consensus of opinion locally at that time, that it was M the 'camp followers' who got most of the blame It appears that while some local girls had ambivalent attitudes towards the men, other women were quite happy to associate with them.65 The Ministry strongly disapproved, saying the men's sleeping quarters were Crown property from which trespassers could be removed; the men at Duns maintained that they had the right to have overnight guests. This contretemps became one of the main topics of discussion at a Ministry of Supply conference on 17 November 1942, when the Ministry noted, under the heading 'Immoral relations with women outside the camps in circumstances giving rise to local scandal', two particular cases.

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It was considered that while the Department (that is, the HTPD) could regard itself as free from any responsibility in such cases where Europeans only were concerned, it could not do so where coloured persons were involved who had been brought to this country by the department. 66 This racialist 'concern' resulted in two police raids on the Duns camp when 'a number of women were found and apprehended'; during the raids, a lot of men were in camp - 'it appeared they were loafing around'. A list of 18 names was enclosed in the police report. These men were said to be known 'troublemakers' and 'the probable cause of a certain amount of slackness that had crept in lately'. It was recommended that some, if not all, be repatriated. The women were imprisoned for trespassing on government property. 67 The Colonial Office's welfare officers investigated these events and found that, before the raids, the men had ' . . . got into contact with a number of undesirable women, and have defied efforts of the Police and the Manager of the camp to remove them'. 68 ' . . . Women are alleged to come up from as far as South Shields to visit the camp.'69 The Ministry's 1944 Report allegation that while on leave 'the men tended to lodge in most undesirable quarters' was perhaps unavoidably true as the men were not admitted into the Services' leave hostels, could not afford hotels and the Ministry had done little to provide them with leave facilities.70 The Colonial Office stepped into this breach: a leave hostel for Hondurans was opened in Edinburgh early in 1943,71 and one in Inverness in August of the same year. The Reverend Kenneth Hughes of East Linton, a local historian whose aid has been invaluable, sums up local people's attitudes as follows: it is quite difficult to construct an accurate and factual picture of the true situation, disentanlged from the myths that exist after 40 years. On balance I would say that the local community did quite well in respect of the men. There was hostility and suspicion but it was not, I think, just as a result of rampant unthinking colour-bar. Had the Black Watch or the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders been situated locally the same kind of feelings would have arisen Some of the men were thought to be very talented in several directions and they made specific contacts with the local community, either through the medium of entertainment [the Colonial Office report show that the jazz band from the Duns camp played at local dances] or at athletics More personal contacts did take place on a quite friendly and innocent level. These tended to be frowned upon, and to be open to misconstruction, and were the exception rather than the rule The local community were scandalized by the 'camp followers'. This unsettled the local populace and their womenfolk, although after 40 years condemnation of the 'camp followers' far exceeds condemnation of the men The racial, colour element and related myths obviously played a part in

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determining local reactions: suspicion; fear; conflict of natural kindliness with horrors of being confused with 'camp followers';72 the unfamiliarity of the 'darkies' (as they were referred to, not uncharitably, and certainly not with the comtempt of the epithet 'niggers') One has to remember an East Lothian of 40 years ago with many of the men at war, the rest workers on the land for generations, not given much to travel outside their own area, and innately conservative in attitude. Repatriation The Hondurans' employment contract was for three years or the duration of the war, with the possibility of dismissal after one year's service. The Ministry ignored these clauses when it suggested within eight months of the first contingent's arrival that Dr Patterson, 16 'bad hats' (and four medical cases) should be repatriated. 73 Whether the 18 men 'loafing around' in camp during the police raids during December 1942 were repatriated at that time, or if they were included in the 130 'undesirable characters' the Ministry wanted 'to get rid of in April 1943 is unclear.74 Although there are bound to be a few unsuitable men in any group of workers, the fact that it did not strike the Ministry as strange that they should find 15 per cent of the Hondurans 'undesirable' is in itself a manifestation of their racist attitude. One is also led to question the Ministry's choice of words: what made a man an 'undesirable character' as opposed to an unsuitable or bad worker? Was it that he refused to work for less than the pay he was entitled to as a skilled worker or that he associated with white women? The Ministry's professed reason for advocating repatriation of at least 130 men and, if possible, the whole Unit, was that the Hondurans were very uneconomic producers. However, so were the Newfoundlanders, for whom repatriation was not suggested. The Ministry's second ostensible reason for repatriation, and one which I think was real, was that it felt that it had lost all 'possibility of exercising any real control over the men' since the Lord Advocate's ruling that to fine them was illegal.75 The second real reason for repatriation was, I believe, the Ministry's horror at miscegenation. Mr Keith's riposte in response to the Ministry's note pressing repatriation reads: ' . . . the real issue is that the Unit never had firm and sympathetic leadership. Supply had been pressed to reorganise leadership to no avail.' He disagreed with the Ministry's notion that discipline was dependent on penalties, suggesting that it depended on leadership. 'There is no real evidence', his memo to his Minister continues, 'that the Unit behaves in a worse way than the Newfoundlanders and other foreigners in Scotland, but they are coloured men and therefore their immoralities get more publicity and are more shocking to the susceptibilities of person like the Duke of Buccleugh and his friends . . . \ 76

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In June 1943 the Duke of Devonshire, Under-Secretary of State for the Colonies since January 1943, found the Ministry's request to repatriate 130 men quite 'unacceptable'. 77 Nevertheless, bowing to pressure from the Ministry, the Duke consented two months later to repatriating 97 men who, according to the Ministry, had agreed to return.78 The 93 men who were reported to have sailed by the beginning of August79 included '28 medical cases, 24 whose physique could not stand the climate, 20 axe-men for whom there is no suitable employment, 12 who had been in trouble with the police' and others described variously as 'bad workers', iazy and an agitator' and 'persistent absenteeism'. 80 Not satisfied with this, or perhaps because they scented victory, the Ministry returned to the hunt a few days after the men had sailed: 'if they can be spared, they should be returned home', the Ministry wrote to the Duke on 10 August, citing the men's health as the main reason for wanting to repatriate. 81 The Ministry asked to meet the Duke to discuss the issue. Mr Keith tried to arm his Under-Secretary for the forthcoming meeting: 'the immediate pretext for the proposal is the stated large number of VD cases', he wrote, 'but VD is preventable and curable'. He advocated that 'a special officer who has knowledge of this disease in its incidence upon non-Europeans should if possible be appointed to make an examination of the whole question in all the camps' and that propaganda to combat disease should be increased. Mr Keith went on to warn the Duke that repatriation would be deplorable, and could only be justified if the Unit were worthless from the production point of view . . . if General Carrington feels unable to cope with the administration, let us propose replacing him Apart from the fact that a great deal of money has been spent on putting up Camps and in bringing the men over here, their return home would, I imagine, have a very discouraging effect in the West Indies and would expose the Colonial Office, as well as the Ministry, to a great deal of criticism The principal reason against repatriating these men is the most unfortunate political consequences which would result The problem of absorbing some 850 men into employment in British Honduras is bound to present difficulties.82 Another Colonial Office official presented additional arguments: . . . if the British Honduran men are sent back and New Zealand men kept we shall have cries of colour discrimination which would perhaps be not too easy to answer. It seems to me that the Ministry of Supply really want to send the men back because they have mismanaged the whole show and want to cover up before it's too late. . . . The Dominions Office has had to make constant efforts to prod the Ministry of Supply into making proper arrangements for the Newfoundlanders. 83

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He and numerous other officials thought that the Ministry's proposal to repatriate should be 'fought vigorously'. Mr Cummings, who had spoken with General Carrington in Edinburgh on 2 September, prophesied that the higher authority at Shell Mex House (the Ministry's headquarters) are determined to make us accept the repatriation position, and I think we shall find that they are going to use the argument that the need for production no longer justifies the employment of our British Honduras men. His prediction came true at the meeting on 8 September, when the Duke accepted the Ministry's contention that reserves of standing timber were being depleted85 and that the supply of imported timber was increasing. 'It was common ground that there were problems with the Hondurans', the Under-Secretary for Scotland claimed and 'people of the neighbourhood (of the three southern camps) would be relieved by the return of the men'. The Duke capitulated: repatriation was agreed, with only two small provisos: the Governor's views should be solicited and the Ministry of Labour consulted over the 'absorption of men who might wish to stay'.86 It is not clear from the records how many men were eventually repatriated. What is clear is that there were problems over how to return the men to British Honduras. The United States, which had previously been used as a staging post, at first refused to comply with a repeat request because of the débâcle over the August 1943 repatriations. The 93 men being returned home then had arrived in New York on the SS Queen Elizabeth without passports or visas, with numerous cases of VD and TB (people with infectious diseases are not allowed into the USA) and with no arrangements for their onward travel to Belize. Thus being illegal immigrants, the men were imprisoned on Ellis Island until the British Consul arranged for them to travel to British Honduras overland. The irate Consul had to provide the men with warm clothing and pocket money as they had arrived only with clothing suitable for the tropics and their month-long imprisonment had exhausted their funds. However, on receiving assurances that this time all the necessary paperwork had been done, that all the men had warm clothing and medical certificates and that onward travel had been arranged, the US agreed for the men to sail to New York, travel by train to New Orleans and from there by ship to Belize.87 The Men Who Remained At the end of December 1943, there were still 268 men in Britain, although I believe many of them later returned to British Honduras. Some of those who remained found jobs for themselves with small local firms; others, who turned to the Ministry of Labour, experienced

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considerable delays in being found employment, despite the wartime labour shortage. Rolls Royce, a large employer in the area, told the Ministry of Labour that they expected that 'home labour' would shortly become available; despite the Ministry of Labour refuting this, Rolls refused to employ Hondurans. 88 ICI, another large local employer, refused the men on the basis that their head office had vetoed them.89 Men were eventually found jobs with British Aluminium in Lochaber, the railways, the Scottish Motor Transport Company and in the merchant marine.90 The armed services were no more enthusiastic about taking the Hondurans. Some men were apparently accepted by the Royal Navy, sworn in, only to be told at the last minute that they could not be taken. Mr Cummings, investigating this, spoke with Mr Ryder in the Admiralty and reported that the Admiralty felt that coloured colonial volunteers were rather an embarrassment and difficult to place in this country. I replied that I was under the impression that the colour bar had been entirely removed from Naval Regulations and Mr Ryder said that this was so, and that the men were not being kept out on colour bar grounds.91 Regretfully, after further discussions, at the end of December Messrs Keith and Cummings decided that they had to 'accept the position . . . it was the same story with the R.A.F.'. 92 The Men Who Returned The only information I have about the men who returned to Belize comes from the Scottish wife of one of the men, who recently returned to Scotland after 32 years residence in Belize. Mrs Pearl Waters was one of the 14 Scottish wives who accompanied their husbands to British Honduras. Mrs Waters describes herself as having been very young and innocent when she met her husband: I never used to go round with boys . . . and I was 17 They had dances up there [the BHFU camp], they had their own band, but I never used to go Then they see me go with him and then they hear I'm going to be married to him. I was the talk of the village: there's only one reason I'm marrying him - because there's something wrong with me - foolishness - but that's expected . . . I used to go courting with him openly, I never hide it. I know the villagers never liked it because to them I was a nice little girl . . . a nice little girl in the village and I never go nowhere and they never hear nothing about me and it came as a shock You're supposed to be a disgrace when you married a coloured person People looked down on him because of his colour. Despite her family's disapproval, the couple married; young Pearl was

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told that now '[she'd] made [her] bed, [she'd] have to lie in it'. Looking back, Mrs Waters does not 'know how I got involved - but I get in - you're romantic and you get foolish ideas . . . you're young and you don't realise the realities of life'. The young couple stayed in the family home and husband Ernest found work with local firms until 1947 when they left for British Honduras. He never wanted to go back, you know, back to his home. I encouraged him to go because I felt he'd have a better chance working over there than here, though he had a good job with Laing's the contractors. They never wanted him to go — In those days, you know, they had this prejudice - you know, this coloured and coloured and coloured More prejudiced against the coloured than the Poles or the Italians. It was the colour more than anything else . . . the men were aware of that. I thought . . . you know, there's jobs over there in his country, that's coloured - the majority is coloured But Mrs Water's dreams were not realised: her husband was unable to obtain work in Belize; they went to his native village where at least they could grow their own food and where the Waters family welcomed the young Scottish girl and helped her settle down. Mr Waters sought work all over British Honduras: we went up the river by canoes . . . then to St. George's Cay - the hurricane caught us there. [That he had work experience in Britain] made no difference. He was disappointed and he wanted to come back 'home' but we wouldn't make it back. I think all that made him despondent... he was despondent and he started drink and that and then he got sick and he wouldn't listen to the doctor and carried on drinking and t h a t . . . and then he got crippled and he couldn't work. T never worked until he started to take sick . . . I heard of a vacancy and I went straightaway and the [British] Army asked why I wanted the job because it's not such a nice job [cleaning] - I said I know.' The Army doctors helped Mrs Waters nurse her husband, who nevertheless soon died of bronchial pneumonia. The Army then helped Mrs Waters return to her native village of 'X'. As the Waters had had no children, Mrs Waters left only her husband's relatives behind in Belize, who were old you know . . . they said to me they were glad I was going home, back to my own people — My mother-in-law was living with me before I came and I never want to leave her - but I couldn't bring her. Where would I put her? My husband's family really cared for me. I liked it over there, but his family said 'here if we die we don't know what would happen to you'. So Mrs Waters is back in 'X', where most of her family are dead and a few old friends remain. 'That's a thing of the past', her patronising old friends say to her, 'forget it, that's something that's past now and you can't do

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anything about it. Don't let it spoil your future.' They talk to me and that But I keep more to myself. I sort of afraid to make friends with people. I think I'm lonely.' Of the fourteen wives who went to British Honduras most came back The novelty wore off, the novelty of going over there They didn't like the life there The government sent them back home One of the girls had servants and all, her husband get her a girl to help her There's another girl - she married just before we - she came over with the girls and her husband come with her. And then about three years ago she went back over to Belize with her husband, and she's over there now. They have a shop and everthing there. She doesn't want to come back.93 Conclusion The importation of even such a small group of black workers from the colonies led to manifestations of institutionalized racism and personal racialism. Without the use of the legal 'colour bars' widely practised in the colonies, these workers were employed on discriminatory terms, their skills were unrecognized and their working and living conditions made all but impossible by the British government which employed them. When the racialist fears of miscegenation were combined with what the Ministry of Supply saw as the removal of their disciplinary powers, the men were repatriated with unseemly haste. Given that neither the Forestry Commission nor the Ministry of Supply wanted 'coloured labour' in the country, why were the men brought to Scotland? One can only surmise that there was considerable pressure from the Colonial Office on the Ministry of Supply to use the Hondurans. The Colonial Office might well have seen this as a solution to problems in Belize: by September 1940, 1,820 Hondurans were on relief and the Governor was asking for 'subsidies from England'. It is also likely that there were political considerations at stake: the Royal Commission investigating conditions throughout the British West Indies had found the people's grievances, which had led to the 1934-38 wave of 'riots', justified. The Commission's report was felt to be such an indictment of British neglect of the Caribbean islands that its publication was suppressed by the British government until 1945; the Commission's recommendations were published, but the outbreak of war conveniently prevented much action having to be taken. In fact, conditions worsened to such an extent that starvation was feared by a number of governors. The British government's investment in heavy pro-'Mother Country' propaganda had to be stepped up, especially when German propaganda began to sweep the islands. In these circumstances, it is arguable that the Colonial Office sought at least to partially solve the problems in Belize by using unemployed Honduran labour in Britain.

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The Ministries of Supply and Labour, faced with increasing labour shortages as the war progressed, probably acceded to the Colonial Office's request despite their prejudices towards 'coloured labour' in the hope of possibly alleviating their own labour supply problems. However, by the stringencies of the employment contracts, which were little better than indentured labour contracts, the Ministries obviously hoped to contain the men within strict confines. When this did not work and the men struck for the pay they were entitled to as skilled workers or refused to work because of bad conditions or lack of equipment, they were labelled 'bad hats; lazy; agitator', and repatriated. The Ministry of Supply, even given wartime shortages, blatantly did the very minimum to provide conditions in which the men could work. Barely furnished, uninsulated and unheated barracks, no hot water, insufficient warm clothing, no recreational or leave facilities, labouring wages, numerous isolated camps, misuse of skills and maladministration at all levels were not guarantees of a happy work force. One could almost say that what the Ministry set about ensuring was that the Hondurans would be 'bad producers' in order to vindicate its final judgement that 'coloured labour recruited into the UK can only be justified as a dire necessity'. The Colonial Office's Welfare Department, understaffed and powerless, could do little to improve matters. And what they did do was usually an emergency measure to stem the tide of Supply's complaints. The Duke of Devonshire evidently did not, at the meeting with the Ministry in September 1943, live up to his welfare staffs request to fight repatriation 'vigorously'. The tardiness and inadequacies of the Welfare Department's measures could be interpreted as an indication that the Colonial Office's real concern was not the plight of the Hondurans in Britain but the control of the Empire. The Ministry of Supply's obsession with VD, sex and miscengenation was clearly the immediate racist pretext for the repatriation of the men. That to some extent the Ministry reflected the community's fears is clear; how much the Ministry's staff and the local nobility and officialdom fostered these fears, either by the direct methods of General Carrington or by their own racialism is difficult to assess. M A R I K A SHERWOOD

New York

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1. Peter Fryer, Staying Power: The History of Black People in Britain (London, 1984). 2. James Walvin, Passage to Britain: Immigration in British History and Politics (London, 1984), p.98. 3. See, for instance, Committee on Distressed Colonial Subjects, Cd, 5133, 1910; M.E. Fletcher, 'The Colour Problem in Liverpool and Other Ports'. Liverpool Review, 1930, pp.421-4; P. Cecil Lewis, 'Cardiff Reports - General Survey', The Keys, Vol.Ill, No.2 (1935), pp. 16-18; G.W.Brown, 'Investigation of Coloured Colonial Seamen in Cardiff, The Keys, Vol.Ill, No.2 (1935), pp. 18-22; M. Caradog Jones, The Economic Status of Coloured Families in the Port of Liverpool (Liverpool, 1940). 4. R. LaPiere, 'Race Prejudice: France and England', Social Forces, Vol.7 (1918), pp. 102-11. 5. S. Herbert and G.H. Green, 'Racial Prejudices of Welsh School-children', The Welsh Outlook, Vol.XVII (March 1930), pp.75-6; (April), pp.103-5; (May), pp.130-33; (June), pp.158-60. 6. This was done by means of the Special Restriction (Coloured Alien Seamen) Order of 1925, which barred alien seamen from employment and made them liable to deportation if found destitute. But as what the Government wanted was to deprive blacks of employment. Chief Constables, charged with implementing the Order, were instructed to 'register all coloured seamen' (Circular dated 23 March 1935, H045/11897). Further, during the period 1935-38, the Tramp Shipping Subsidy Committee interpreted the British Shipping (Assistance) Act of 1935 as excluding Black crew from employment. See, for example, The Fourth Report of the Tramp Shipping Advisory Committee, Cmd.5363, 1937. 7. Foreign Office to Consuls, 10 November 1939. 8. For an early sociological treatment of these workers, see A.H. Richmond, Colour Prejudice in Britain (London, 1954). See also my work, Many Struggles: West Indian Workers and Service Personnel in Britain 1939-45 (London, 1985). 9. H.M.D. Parker, History of the Second World War, UK Civil Series, Manpower, (London, 1957), p.343. 10. See Graham Smith, 'Jim Crow on the Home Front (1942-1945)', New Community, Vol.VIII, No.3 (Winter, 1980), pp.317-28 and his 'An American Occupation: Black American Soldiers during the Second World War' (unpublished M. A. thesis, University of Keele, 1975). 11. War Cabinet Meeting, 13 Oct, 1942. 12. See Edward Scobie, Black Britannia (Chicago, 1972), pp. 186-92. 13. The chief sources of information I have used are the government files deposited at the Public Record Office. Unfortunately, many relevant files have been destroyed by the government departments concerned. Of the Ministry of Supply files, very few have survived except those dealing with technical matters. In Scotland only a handful of local and national files for 1940-45 have been preserved. To my surprise, no specific histories of Scotland during the Second World War have been written. (Is this an example of imperialism within the ranks of historians?) The remaining church records have yielded very little information. The YMCA has no records left and the LCP's various publications only mention the BHFU cursorily. Sadly, the two welfare officers employed by the Ministry of Supply are both dead, as are most of the officials who dealt with the BHFU. Harold Macmillan could not 'accede to my request for information' and the Duke of Buccleuch's private secretary could not help. On the other hand, my plea for information in some Scottish regional papers brought forth some very important contributions. To those who wrote to me, my grateful thanks. 14. Russell Meiggs, who had been Chief Labour Officer with the HTPD, in his book Home Timber Production (London, 1949), felt obliged to explain at length why the Australian and New Zealand production output fell below that of the Canadians: the Australians and New Zealanders were used to working at speed without regard to 'the strictest economy in felling and cutting' necessary during the war; 'British trees and particularly hardwoods are also of very mixed quality and special selection and treatment is

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15. 16. 17. 18. 19.

20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47.

48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54.

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required'. Meiggs gives no such explanations when writing of the lower output of the Newfoundland and British Honduran units; neither does he mention the vast difference in techniques required for cutting mahogany and British hardwoods. Details and quotations from D035/745 (Public Record Office). Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. See Report of the Committee on Nutrition (Belize/Crown Agents, 1937); Colonial Office, Annual Report on the Social and Economic Progress of the People of British Honduras, 1938 (Colonial reports - annual, no. 1894), (London, HMSO, 1939); West India Royal Commission, Report . . . June 1945, Cmd.6607, 1944/45, VI, 245. For a recent study of Belize, see C.H. Grant, The Making of Modern Belize (Cambridge, 1976). All above quotations are from CO 123/373 and CO 123/378 (PRO). Interview with Sir Roy Robinson, n.d. (1942?). AVIA 46/494 (PRO). Internal memo, 25 Aug. 1942, CO 876/41. Strang Steel to T. Fitzgerald, Ministry of Supply, 3 July 1941, CO 968/38/2. Copy of agreement in AVIA 46/486 (PRO). See detailed correspondence over these matters in CO 968/38/2. Full details from CO 876/41. See letter to J.L. Keith, 30 Dec. 1941, CO 968/38/2. CO 876/41. The report was prepared for Sir Donald Cameron at the Ministry of Information and many of its allegations were contested by Keith (see correspondence with Dunbar, CO 876/41 and CO 968/38/2). See memo, 29 Jan, 1942, CO 876/41. See exchange of correspondence in ibid. For details, see CO 876/42 and 43. CO 876/41. Report of the British Honduras Forestry Unit, 1 May 1944 (hereafter Report), AVIA 46/486. CO 876/42. See memo of 21 Jan. 1942, CO 876/41. For details of these memos, see CO 876/42. From a letter to the author from Dr S.K. Drainer, 14 Oct. 1980. CO 876/41. See details of monthly reports of camp welfare officers, CO 876/43. See AVIA 46/486. Ibid. Memo, 17 Aug. 1943, CO 876/42. See AVIA 46/486. Ibid. Ibid. Interview with Mr McCune during my visit to Dumfries, August 1980. Report of A. Slater, Conciliation Officer, 22 Sept. 1942, CO 876/41. The Chief Conciliation Officer (Scotland) Strike Report for the week ending 26 Sept. 1942 in LAB 10/363 (PRO) notes that '30 labourers [emphasis mine] . . . at Kirkpatrick-Fleming Camps . . . wages claim . . . grievances receiving attention'. AC AS has not been able to find the results of the Officer's deliberations. Report. Report of visit to Southern camps by Duke of Devonshire (Under-Secretary of State for Colonies), 12 Feb. 1943, dated 28/2/43, CO 876/43. Memo by Keith, 17 Aug. 1943, CO 876/42. Buccleuch to Macmillan, 10 Aug. 1942, CO 876/42. CO 876/41. Macmillan to Buccleuch, 2 Oct. 1942, CO 876/41. Report on visit to Southern camps by Keith, I.L. Cummings and Sir A. Burns, 18/19 Sept. 1941, CO 968/38/2.

140 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65.

66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72.

73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80.

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Interview with Mr McCune, op. cit. Sir H. Carrington to the Bristol office of the Ministry, 6 July 1943, CO 876/42. Dumfries County Special Medical Report, 1939-45. Letter from Dr Drainer, op. cit. Keith to Sir C. Jeffries, 14 April 1943, CO 876/42. Memo, 23 Aug. 1943, CO 876/42. Unfortunately, the file dealing with the 'petty chicanery' has not been preserved at the Public Records Office. Keith, memo on Cummings' visit, 30 Oct. 1941, CO 968/38/2. Memo to P. Rogers of Colonial Office, 10 Nov. 1941, CO 968/38/2. From letter to the author from Rev. Kenneth Hughes, 11 Oct. 1980. From letter to the author from 'Mrs James'. The names of all informants have been changed. The report, Behaviour of Girls and Young Women in Wartime (Glasgow, 1942) by the Chief Constable of Glasgow, appears to be an expression of concern at what was obviously seen as a loosening of morals: 'In the early autumn of 1940 this [concentration of troops] became more of a problem and it was apparent that many young women and girls were parading the streets in company with men of the various services including the different Nationals . . . ' [italics mine]. Notes of Conference, 17 Nov. 1942, CO 876/43, Robert Brand, Deputy Chief Constable, Berwickshire, to Welfare Officer, Colonial Office, 21 Dec. 1942, CO 876/43. Keith, report on camp visit, 17 Dec. 1942, CO 876/43. Report on camp visit, 24 Dec. 1942, CO 876/43. AVIA 46/486. See Monthly Report of Welfare Officer, Southern Division, Feb. 1943, CO 876/43. This notion, held by so many, that women associating with blacks could only be 'camp followers' was not peculiar to the 1940s; in 1930, M.E. Fletcher, investigating the colour problem in Liverpool, op. cit. wrote: 90% of the white women in Liverpool who consort with coloured men are said to be prostitutes . . . the white women in Liverpool who consort with coloured men . . . are mentally weak, prostitutes [or] younger women who make contacts in a spirit of adventure and find themselves unable to break away. Miss Fletcher also found that these women will say that they married a coloured man because he makes a better husband than a white. Such a statement appears to be merely an excuse . . . they almost invariably regret their alliance . . . the white woman who consorts with coloured men is very conscious of having ostracised herself . . . her parents will have nothing to do with her They cannot be seen about with their husbands It seems that the fear or horror of miscegenation was never far beneath the surface of 'natural kindliness' and that this fear strongly influenced both personal and official attitudes and behaviour. T. Fitzgerald, Ministry of Supply, to P. Rogers, Colonial Office, 28 May 1942, CO 876/42. See Keith memo, 14 April 1943, CO 876/42. See letter to Duke of Devonshire from C.V. Peat, Under-Secretary to Ministry of Supply, 29 March 1943, on the Lord Advocate's ruling about the vagueness of the clause on fines in the original agreement, CO 876/42. Keith to Sir C. Jeffries, 14 April 1943, CO 876/42. Memo, 28 June 1943, CO 876/42. Memo from Peat, 2 July 1943, CO 876/42. See list, 13 Aug. 1943. CO 876/42. Reasons for absenteeism were apparently never investigated by the Ministry. A brief article in the Dumfries and Galloway Standard of 12 December 1942 throws some light on this: B.H. Alton Brown is reported as being fined £10 (or 40 days' imprisonment) for being absent from work for 46 days. Mr Alton Brown claimed that he had torn his shoes in August and despite numerous requests for a new pair he had not been given any until October. The Camp Manager's confirmation that there had not been any shoes in

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81. 82. 83.

84. 85. 86.

87. 88. 89. 90. 91. 92. 93.

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the camp store had little influence with the magistrate. It is curious to note that except for another court report, I can find no mention of the Hondurans in the Scottish papers, although the Newfoundlanders and the military companies were mentioned on numerous occasions. That writing about the Hondurans was censored is a possibility: there is a note in CO 968/38 to the effect that the Glasgow Herald and the Glasgow Bulletin had interviewed the men on arrival, but that the censor had 'killed' the story. Peat to Devonshire, 10 Aug. 1943, CO 876/42. Memo, 17 Aug. 1943, CO 876/42. Memo, 25 Aug. 1943, CO 876/42. In fact, the Australian and New Zealand Companies left Scotland at about the same time as the Hondurans, but not to return home: there was an urgent demand for foresters in Algeria, the Mediterranean, Western Europe and New Guinea. Twenty Canadian Companies were still working in Scotland in 1944. There were no public cries of discrimination. Had the censor killed these too? See Cummings' report of meeting, 3 Sept, 1943, CO 876/42. Whether this is strictly true is doubtful: not only were the Canadians retained until 1944, but Italian and German POWs were sent to work in Scotland in 1944 and 1945. Were they cheaper labour than the Hondurans? They were certainly white. Note on meeting at Shell Mex House (Ministry of Supply), 8 Sept. 1943, CO 876/42. It was claimed by the Ministry of Supply that the Hondurans would be sent back ' . . . not with any smirch on their character but solely on the ground that they had done the job for which they had been brought over to this country'. Full details in FO 369/2924 (PRO). See details of correspondence in CO 876/68. See draft of letter from Colonial Office to ICI, 24 Dec. 1943; reply from ICI, 30 Dec. 1943, denying all knowledge of head office veto, CO 876/68. See internal memo, 20 Dec. 1943, CO 876/68. Internal memo, 10 Dec. 1943, CO 876/68. Memo, 16 Dec. 1943, CO 876/68. Yet a year later, the RAF recruited 4,000-5,000 men from the Caribbean for ground-crew duties - see Sherwood, Many Struggles, op. cit. Interview with 'Mrs Waters', 26 Aug. 1980.

Rationalization and the Politics of Segregation: Indian Workers in Britain's Foundry Industry, 1945-62 This study examines the crisis amongst skilled iron-foundry workers which, as a result of the changing organization of work, came to a head during the Second World War. In particular, it is concerned with the effects of mechanization and, as a defensive measure, the imposition of a new skill hierarchy upon machine work. It will be argued that this hierarchy defined the social places that immigrants would come to occupy. In addition, colonial intervention in the Punjab, together with the social and economic transformation which it set in motion, is discussed as an historical prerequisite for the growing post-war concentration of Indian workers in the foundries of the Midlands. Of special significance is the formation of a rural class of intermediaries. During the 1950s and early 1960s, representatives of this class acted as middlemen in the system of segregated labour which had developed in the foundry industry; a system which would not withstand the radicalism of the 1960s. The purpose of this discussion is to examine, using Indian workers in the British Midlands iron foundries as an example, the development and maintenance of a sectional labour-force. The example is apt since, at least until the crash of 1980/81, foundry work was typical of male Asian employment in the region.1 The main period covered is the 1950s. Despite the apparent historical focus, the exercise is of contemporary relevance since the relations and institutions emerging during this period continue to play an important role in shaping race relations in Britain. As a contribution to understanding this situation, the article underlines the need for a re-evaluation of the manner in which black workers were intially incorporated into the British economy - a task which, if not ignored, is all too often reduced to a few words on the post-war scarcity of labour. The study contains two broad areas of concern. The first is an exploration of how those divisions which arise spontaneously amongst workers in the course of the development of the social division of labour are sharpened under the influence of trade union organization. Trade unionism is examined from the perspective of representing the institutionalization of working class fragmentation. This is not to say that trade unions are merely agents of social control, that is, that their sole function is to perpetuate this fragmentation. Whilst this may have been the result of trade union practice in some instances, it is also the case that, within

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the specific industry (or parts of several industries) in which a particular trade union is organized, it can confront capital, over the conditions under which labour is exchanged for money, providing of course that it remains within the legal definition of the situation. Thus, whilst trade unions may be incapable of politically uniting the working class, they are capable of offering sectional forms of resistance at an economic level.2 During the 1950s, the main trade unions that were involved, or were to become involved, in the Midlands iron foundries were in the process of redefining their identity. This change affected both craft (for example, Amalgamated Union of Foundry Workers) and general (for example, Transport and General Workers Union) trade unions and related to the relatively rapid rate of technical innovation and spread of mass production methods during this period. 3 The unions were having to adjust to the disappearance of old constituencies simultaneously with the emergence of new ones and thus new potential areas of recruitment. It is in this period of flux that an examination is made of the attempt of the trade unions to maintain and enhance their control in a climate of techincal change, and the appearance of foreign European and then black workers in the labour market. The second area of concern is to move away from a cultural explanation for the type of relations and work organization that emerged amongst Asian foundry workers during the 1950s. Instead, an attempt is made to substitute a class analysis. To achieve this end, an overview of British colonial policy in India's Punjab is given. In particular, the growth of a rural intermediary class, composed of ex-soldiers, policemen, minor civil servants and schoolteachers, is outlined. It is argued that representatives of this class, essentially colonial in origin, largely controlled the recruitment and organization of Indian labour in the Midlands iron foundries until well into the 1960s. The virtual segregation of Asian workers and their confinement in the worst jobs in the Midlands iron foundries, where they had quickly concentrated, is understood through the interaction of several elements. These are, firstly, the mechanization of the foundry industry and the creation of a demand amongst employers for unskilled manual labour; secondly, working class and especially trade union sectionalism which sought to reimpose a skill hierarchy in this changed situation; finally, the political dominance amongst the Indian community of representatives of the colonial intermediary class who were often able to transform their advantageous position in the labour market, especially their monopoly of English, to their own ends. Only an overview can be given of these elements and their interrelation. The contradictions which built up within the segregated work-force largely shaped the growing frustration of ordinary Indian workers which clearly emerged in the industrial disputes during the latter half of the 1960s and, from this period on, shaped successive government initiatives to ameliorate the situation. I will first briefly examine the mechanization of iron foundry production as one factor in the creation of the 'places' which black workers would occupy.

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The Mechanization of Skill The mechanization of the iron foundry industry did not become generalized until the mid-1950s, although a number of developments had occurred earlier. A significant factor of the growth in the application of machinery to moulding was the production of armaments and munitions in both the First4 and Second5 World Wars. Apart from a post-war rise in the demand for builders' castings, the main impetus for the mechanization of iron foundry production had been the development of the automobile industry for which it became a major source of components. Although several important innovations in the supply of vehicle castings appeared during the inter-war period, 6 it was the rapid expansion of motor manufacture during the 1950s which, by the end of the decade, had stimulated the appearance in a number of large concerns of production methods 'on the brink of automation'. 7 Mechanization had far-reaching effects on the iron foundry industry as a whole. Not the least of these was its geographical centre of gravity. Whereas, prior to the Second World War, the heart of the industry had been mainly associated with ship-building and heavy engineering in Scotland, northern England and Wales, the growth of mass manufacture during the 1950s, especially that of automobiles, saw its gradual concentration in the Midlands. 8 The shift in the focus of iron foundry production was just one aspect of the stimulus given by the automobile industry to the regional economy. The dependence of the Midlands upon the industry is well known; however it is only now, in a time of recession, that it is seen as a weakness. 9 The predominance of the vehicle industry in the region grew rapidly following the Second World War. As early as 1956, the Midlands Regional Secretary of the Transport and General Workers' Union (TGWU) estimated that a quarter of all manufacturing in the area was connected with motor vehicles and that 'the future prosperity of this region is thus intimately bound up with the activities of the motor industry'.10 This dependence saw the emergence - through growth and, especially during the 1960s, through amalgamation - of the region's large component suppliers such as Lucas, GKN, Dunlop, Girling, Automotive Products, Rubery Owen and Birmid Qualcast. When the vehicle industry was at its peak at the end of the 1960s, the Midlands' component producers, including several large iron foundries, could boast that they were 'one of the most technically advanced mass production machines in the world'.11 My main concern is not the technical aspects of iron foundry mechanization but rather its social and political consequences. Of special interest in relation to the incorporation of black workers is its effect on the definition of 'skill' and the way that work was organized. In order to do this, the situation in the preceeding period must be briefly mentioned. In the inter-war years iron foundries were largely bypassed by the flow-line methods of production then being pioneered in the newer branches of industry. This did little to alter the bad public image of iron foundries,

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acquired during the latter half of the nineteenth century, which associated them with strenuous physical work in hot and dirty conditions. The notion of 'skill' in the preparation of iron castings involved not only manual dexterity and experience but also the craftsman being intimately connected with what would now be regarded as labouring and ancillary aspects of the job. Thus, the fetching of sand for the mould, the carrying of molten metal, the cleaning-up after the cast and similar tasks were all usually carried out by the moulder. Volume production, which was only feasible with relatively light castings, was achieved by the application of hard physical effort, using a few simple mechanical aids, to largely traditional materials.12 With the exception of a few small trade unions which catered mainly for machine moulders and fettlers, unionism within the industry was mainly concerned with protecting the status and privileges of craftsmen who were organized in the National Union of Foundry Workers (it became the Amalgamated Union - AUFW - in July 1946). Moreover, like the iron foundry industry itself, trade union organization was largely concentrated in northern England and Scotland.13 Until the 1960s the Midlands iron foundries were a backwater of the trade union movement. The method of work organization within the iron foundry industry began to change during and especially after the Second World War. The nature of this change can be examined from the perspective of the emergence of marked labour shortage; a significant reversal of the situation during the depression years. The nature of this shortage was not uniform, however, being divisible into two stages: (a) from the beginning of the war until the early 1950s, and (b) from the mid-1950s until the end of the 1960s. During the first stage, labour shortage in the iron foundry industry can be said to have been of an 'absolute' kind. That is, workers were required to staff foundries which were, by and large, technically unchanged from those before the war. Thus, during this period, labour shortage was largely expressed in a demand for craft workers, or at least workers with foundry experience. By the mid-1950s labour shortage had changed to a 'relative' form. That is, as mechanization began to be felt, the result was to create a demand for labour of a new type - not for experienced foundry workers but for general labourers and machine operators. In both these phases the notion of 'skill' and work organization became altered in significant and connected ways. The outcome, shaped in exchanges between the unions, employers and the state, was to define the context within which black workers began to establish themselves. During the phase of absolute labour shortage, the iron foundries intitially lost labour due to war service and then, following demobilization, due to the drift of workers to the new and prestigious engineering, electrical and manufacturing industries - a situation typifying the Midlands labour market of the period.14 In the early post-war years, labour shortage combined with industry's urgent re-tooling gave indigenous workers an unprecendented freedom of job choice. Not only was there a drift to the new factories from the more unpopular forms of

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employment such as foundry work but, even here, workers could move between different concerns seeking better pay and conditions.15 In 1950, a survey of eight Midlands factories covering a range of industries revealed an average labour turnover of 37 per cent over the preceding year.16 The three or four vacancies for every employed person in Birmingham at this time was seen as evidence enough 'why workers can change their jobs at will, without apprehension or feeling of insecurity'.17 High levels of labour turnover in the Midlands continued to be a feature of the labour market until the recession of 1956-58.1X During the war, the state's attempt to alleviate the absolute shortage of labour in the iron foundry industry was expressed in the terms 'concentration' and 'dilution'. The aim of the first was to make the most use of the dwindling supply of craft workers. The concentration of iron foundry production, which was only fully implemented in the south-east, involved the centralization of production, resources and available workers in one 'nucleus' foundry and the temporary closure of those surrounding it.19 The aim of dilution, which was more widespread, was the relaxation of trade union control to allow unskilled and semi-skilled workers to do the job of skilled men if none of these were available. Under the agreements reached within the industry, the position of skilled, time-served workers would be protected through a maintenance of wage rates, a register of all 'dilutees' and a return to the status quo after the war.20 On the cessation of hostilities, the National Union of Foundry Workers began to demand a cancellation of the dilution agreements. Resentment grew once it became clear that the government not only wished them to continue but was demanding further concessions, including the introduction of foreign European labour to meet a claimed shortfall in employment of some 35,000 workers. In 1946 the AUFW grudgingly agreed, partly out of loyalty to the new Labour government, to accept further temporary relaxation on the recruitment, training and upgrading of inexperienced or 'green' labour. In the same year the union, again reluctantly, agreed to the importation of Italian foundry workers.21 On the model of the protection afforded craft workers under the dilution agreements, the Italian iron foundry worker agreement extended protection to the indigenous labour force as a whole - Italians were only to be employed in the absence of suitable British labour and at the accepted rate for the job; the labour force had to agree to their employment and they were to be repatriated once British labour became available.22 Initially it was planned that 800 skilled and 2,000 other workers with foundry experience should be introduced. By the beginning of 1947, however, it was already apparent that nowhere near this number of Italians could be secured. Moreover, the demand amongst employers was much lower than the government had expected. In the event only several hundred Italians were involved and, reflecting the absolute nature of labour demands in the industry generally, the majority of these were required to be skilled workers. In October 1947, the AUFW, through the CSEU (Confederation of Shipbuilding and Engineering Unions), began

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to call for the cancellation of the Italian agreement on the grounds that it was having no real influence. After what was regarded as endless prevarication on the part of the employers and the state, the unions eventually unilaterally abrogated the agreement in February 1950.23 Despite the relatively small numbers involved, the Italian iron foundry workers agreement is interesting for a number of reasons. The most important of these is the policies the AUFW put forward as alternatives to dilution and the employment of foreign labour - factors which the union regarded as intimately connected.24 The union alternatives, worked out between 1946 and 1947, claimed that the employers and especially the state had failed to understand the real problem of the industry and the reorganization of work.25 Given that it was common practice for craft workers to spend a large proportion of their time in labouring and ancillary tasks, then to call for dilution and the introduction of foreign labour which, in effect, was a call for more skilled labour, was not to solve the production problem but to perpetuate it. The union answer was, firstly, the introduction of more mechanical aids to help speed production and, secondly, to rationalize the manner in which the labour of skilled workers was expended. In order to achieve the latter, the union suggested that more unskilled and semi-skilled labour should be employed to free the craftsmen from any secondary preoccupations. Many foundry workers, with good cause, frankly contend that the skilled labour force would be adequate if the foundries were properly staffed with labour to serve the craftsman. Such labour could at the very least be used to improve housekeeping and thus make the conditions better for increased production.26 Although craft workers still represented the bulk of the AUFW's membership, the emerging ideas on the rationalization of skill are a first indication of the changing order of things. In 1947, the union put forward another aspect of its alternative policy for improved production within the industry-in the form of a proposed new wage structure.27 An important aspect of this new structure was the attempt to solve the problem of machine workers. This problem had emerged during the war and the continuing spread of machine moulding was making it all the more imperative. Whilst maintaining the need for a craft differential, the AUFW argued that the machine does not provide a simple demarcation line between the skilled and the semi-skilled worker. Although the machine eliminated much of the heavy work, it could also mean an increased amount of tension and fatigue in the aggregate of a day's labour due to the increased intensity of the work rate. It was also possible, argued the AUFW, to distinguish between complex and simple machine moulding according to the intricacy of casting being made. The union also claimed that much higher production rates were achieved on machines manned by skilled as opposed to upgraded labour. To accommodate these differences, it was suggested that two new rates be established - that

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of a semi-skilled 'machine operator' doing the simpler operations and a skilled 'machine moulder' doing the more complex. As the basis of the new wage structure and as an attempt to eliminate the prevailing chaos, the AUFW recommended the encouragement, where practicable, of 'payment by result' (PBR) schemes throughout the industry. It was in connection with the encouragement of PBR and the growing importance of machine moulding that the rationalization of skill, referred to as the 'servicing' of the skilled worker, was returned to. By service is meant that the labour force be organized so that equipment and materials are maintained and supplied to the moulder in such a manner as will enable him to apply his skill to the best possible advantage. We frankly believe that one of the most discouraging features which arouses opposition to PBR in the foundry is the senseless scarcity of equipment and the fact of skilled workers having to find their own equipment and materials. Give the moulder reasonable service and he will give you production.28 The response of the AUFW to the call for dilution, the threat of foreign labour and the increasing prospect of mechanization was to call for a reorganization of work. This reorganization would see the definition of skill being broadened to include certain categories of machine workers.2l> These workers, on piece-work and other PBR schemes, would be the new centre of the operation and would be serviced by other groups of timepaid unskilled and semi-skilled workers. Many of these labouring and ancillary grades would also be using mechanical aids. This view emerged during the latter half of the 1940s when the technical basis on which it was premised had not yet fully materialized. It was, however, a pointer to the situation that would develop during the 1950s and the manner in which the union would attempt to re-impose a skill hierarchy in the changed conditions of the new foundries. It was also an indication of the space that black workers would be deemed fit to occupy within the hierarchy. The essence of iron foundry mechanization was twofold: firstly, the introduction of machinery, or at least more efficient machinery, in the preparation of moulds, cores and sand; secondly, the linking of these machines by a system of conveyor belts, hoists, slings and power trucks. Its aim was to introduce flow-line methods of production, as opposed to the activities of groups of craftsmen and their lads, into the foundries. Thus, charging the furnace, preparing moulds and cores, casting, retrieving the cast, recycling sand and moulding boxes and cleaning the cast were undertaken by linked gangs of detail workers. The increased rate of production that mechanization made possible also depended upon advances in chemistry, metallurgy and industrial engineering. Thus, within the new foundries technicians and maintenance workers became of growing importance. The modernization of the Midlands iron foundry industry began with the close of the Second World War.30 Its effect quickly became apparent. Between 1949 and 1955, productivity in the central Midlands increased by

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23 per cent from 16.6 to 20.5 tons per person per year. This was the highest rise in Britain and was achieved with only an eight per cent increase in the numbers employed.31 Indeed, from this period productivity levels continued to rise steadily in the Midlands until the early 1970s as, following the national trend within the iron foundry industry since 1951, the size of the labour force began to decline from its 1955 peak. This decrease, in addition to the direct effects of mechanization, was due to the fact that many small foundries, unable to compete with the new methods of production, were forced to close. During the 1950s and 1960s, the trend was for iron foundry production in the Midlands to become concentrated into fewer and fewer hands.32 In considering the effects of mechanization on the labour market one point must be kept in mind. Mechanization should not be confused with automation: that is, with the virtual elimination of manual labour from the production process. Compared to the craft-based industry, mechanization meant a marked decrease in the demand for labour.33 The new iron foundries, however, still depended on a relatively large number of manual workers. From the late 1940s to the end of the 1950s, employers and commentators, in reviewing the rapid technical change then taking place often, in a theoretical manner, glimpsed the prospect of automation;34 a prospect which, in practical terms, would have to await our own time. In discussing mechanization, employers and their spokesmen frequently adopted an almost apologetic tone for the fact that modernization fell short of full automation. Thus, by 1949, There had . . . been growing appreciation of the fact that complete mechanization is rarely justified and that the majority of foundries can best be served by re-arrangement of lay-out where necessary and provision of mechanical aids for sand-preparation and distribution, box-handling and knock-out.35 In 1953, The development in mechanization over the last ten years had been more rapid than ever before, from large foundries mechanizing almost every operation, to smaller foundries using a limited number of labour-saving appliances. Complete mechanization on an elaborate scale is applicable in a very limited number of foundries. The installation of less ambitious schemes in the general run of foundries had been the most important advance towards increased productivity.36 The sentiments expressed here, that piecemeal mechanization was preferable to automation, were put into practice by iron foundry employers in the Midlands.37 The result was that, within the mechanized (or partially automated) foundry, at those points in the production cycle where one sequence ended and another began, the changeover was accomplished through the physical efforts of groups of workers assisted,

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or otherwise, by simple mechanical aids. Since the tempo of work was governed by the speed of the conveyor belt linking the various groups, mechanization represented an increase in the intensity of production for the workers concerned. An indication of the growing intensity of iron foundry production in the Midlands can be gathered from the fact that PBR systems of remuneration, attempting to encourage workers to keep pace with the machinery, began to spread from the end of the 1940s.38 The AUFW was quick to argue that the rise in productivity which was clearly manifest by the mid-1950s was partly due to an increased physical effort on the part of the now-declining labour force. That higher productivity is partly the result of new techniques is undeniable, but it is not the whole story. With a considerable extension of piecework and additional lieu rates based on increased production, labour is more intensive and some of the increase must be attributable to human endeavour.39 The increased rate of exploitation over craft production which mechanization made possible was itself a factor in the radical transformation in the industry's labour market. The AUFW alternatives to dilution and foreign labour which were worked out in the latter half of the 1940s, although calling for modernization, PBR systems and foreseeing the manner in which a skill hierarchy could be re-imposed, had not been premised upon such a transformation. The AUFW had seen the new skill hierarchy as being based upon the direct transfer of craft workers to machines. Once the effect of mechanization had become more clear, it also became apparent that this transfer was not taking place. From both the literature40 and the views of informants, the evidence is that the majority of craft workers preferred to keep out of the new foundries for reasons of pride in their skill, the increased intensity of work and the changed social and physical atmosphere. On balance, craft workers, if not retiring, would either continue the drift of previous years to other industries or become increasingly concentrated in the small jobbing iron foundries. In the early 1950s the period of absolute labour shortage was beginning to give way to that of relative labour shortage. By 1952 the earlier threat to the craftsman from the dilution and the upgrading of labour was being replaced by the problem of the unchecked spread of new mechanized foundries staffed by unskilled and semi-skilled workers with no previous foundry experience - a development which lay beyond the scope of existing union agreements. 41 This change was reflected dramatically in the membership figures of the AUFW. Between 1950 and 1960 the overall membership fell by six per cent, whilst the numbers of craftsmen dropped by 25 per cent. From comprising more than half of the total membership at the beginning of this period, craftsmen represented only two-fifths at its end.42 These proportional changes were a reflection of the shift occurring within the iron foundry labour force in general. The disproportionate decline in craftsmen would continue unabated until,

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during the 1960s, the AUFW became, in terms of membership if not ideology, a union organizing mainly unskilled and semi-skilled workers. It is from the early to the mid-1950s that increasing reference is made in AUFW proceedings to the changing 'quality' and 'character' of the labour force under the impact of mechanization. In 1955 it was argued that . . . the jolter, sand slinger [moulding machines], and conveyor belt are giving scope for a much higher proportion of semi-skilled labour. The fully mechanized plant reduces the craftsman to a very small proportion of total employment.43 In 1956, Science and technology have had far-reaching effects on the foundry itself and on the character of the labour force employed output of castings per worker had greatly increased. Fewer workers employed are producing more castings, but the proportion of foundry workers engaged in the actual process of making moulds is declining and the proportion of highly skilled craftsmen moulders is declining even more.44 The transformation in the iron foundry labour force was well underway by the mid-1950s. A new market for workers with no foundry experience was developing at the same time as iron foundry production, as already mentioned, was relocating its geographical centre amongst the mass manufacturing industries of the Midlands, as the heavy engineering and ship-building with which it had previously been associated entered a decline. Within the mechanized foundries a new organization of work appeared. Moulds were now produced by machine and the machine operators, since they set the pace, were increasingly distinguished from the other labouring and ancillary grades that serviced them by their higher status and earning capacity. Befitting the values of a machinebased civilization, these operators, using arguments similar to those already advanced by the AUFW, became the new generation of skilled iron foundry workers.45 Commenting upon the meaning of skill in a mechanized Midlands foundry, Rimmer makes the following observation: . . . all foundry work, with the borderline exceptions of maintenance and a little moulding, is basically repetitive, semi-skilled work . . . now skills essentially consist of dexterity and experience. There are good moulders and bad ones, but the difference is one of a few months' practice on the job, not a long apprenticeship. A lot of workers are thus classified as skilled simply because of the traditional status of their job. In addition many semi-skilled workers do not (properly speaking) possess any skill at all, but have been promoted to give them a higher time-rate.46 For manual workers under conditions of mass production, rather than describing the intrinsic nature of the job, a skill hierarchy is more an indication of the relative primacy or otherwise of the particular sequence

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of events to the production of the commodity under question and, moreover, the degree to which workers are organized or are able to use their position within the production process to press their claims. When such factors are positively correlated, one can expect high levels of designated skill. In other words, skill ratings tell more about the power relations on the shop-floor than the actual capabilities of each worker.47 The divisions between groups of workers in the mechanized iron foundries, emerging spontaneously with the new division of labour, were transformed into sectional interests in the unceasing struggle for wages. These interests were further strengthened under the influence of trade union organization. The AUFW, where it did recruit in the new foundries during the 1950s, was primarily interested in the 'skilled' machine operators to the neglect of other foundry workers. When, by the early 1960s, declining levels of employment in the industry, and thus membership, forced them to take account of these other grades, their hegemony had been lost as they now had to compete with non-foundry trade unions, notably the TGWU. This competition, a discussion of which is outside the scope of this article, further reinforced the political fragmentation of the labour force. What is more important here is the fact that, initially, the sectional labour force in the new iron foundries was made up of groups of white workers. Increasingly, however, sectional or 'skill' divisions were translated into racial divisions as black workers, especially Indians, also began to establish themselves. The Punjab under Colonial Rule Before going on to describe the politics of segregation within the iron foundry industry, it is neccessary to develop briefly the proposition that an examination of the social and economic relations in the colonial Punjab is an important ingredient in explaining such politics. Indian Punjabis, especially Sikhs, represent the majority of the Asian workers who found their way into the Midlands foundries from the Second World War onwards. The conventional analysis of Sikh immigration to Britain is one which usually poses it as the continuation of a mode of behaviour seen as 'traditional' to them. John's account is a good example of this approach. 48 In pointing out the rural background of Sikh immigrants, he goes on to describe how the adjoining districts of Jullunder and Hoshiarpur, being the main area of emigration, are relatively prosperous but overpopulated. This is argued to be a long-standing problem, even since the last century, and the migration of certain family members abroad and to other parts of India has become an accepted way of dealing with it. In addition, the Sikh martial heritage, a tradition of even greater antiquity, gave scope to another means of solving the problem: that of joining the British Indian Army. The conventional wisdom sees both Sikh migration and military service as traditional means to the same end, that is, the avoidance of actual or threatened poverty. Here I wish to distance myself from this particular approach. Not only is it ahistorical, reducing everything to 'tradition' or 'culture', it is a form of

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explanation which conveniently does away with the need to examine the effects of colonization - the dominant feature of Punjabi society for nearly a century. The proposition that I wish to explore briefly here is that, paradoxically, not only did colonialism lay the foundations for the development of capitalism in the colonies but, at the same time, the very nature of colonial intervention inhibited such development. The effect of this contradiction has been that the struggle for national liberation during the period of direct colonization was usually connected with the struggle to raise productivity and to strengthen the conditions for capitalist development. In other words, the vanguard of colonial independence movements have customarily been drawn from the indigenous commercial classes, urban artisans and rich peasantry.49 In addition, it is also the case that colonial rule was effected through the creation of dependent intermediaries and allies. In the business field these have sometimes been commercial groups introduced from outside. Lebanese, Greek, Armenian and Indian traders played this role in Africa, for example. In politics the British system of indirect rule, that is, the adaptation of pre-colonial forms of tribal or autocratic authority to serve as vehicles of colonial administration was the classic case. The national movements which grew around the question of independence would have as their opponents not only the colonial regime but its allies as well. The central Punjab, in which the Jullunder and Hoshiarpur districts lie, has, even since the days of the Sikh empire which was consolidated during the eighteenth century, always been a rich agricultural area.50 Being the last part of India to fall to the British in 1849, the Punjab had been able to preserve its economic integrity for much longer than other areas which were already in decline.51 Under the British, the Jullunder and Hoshiarpur districts were to become the stronghold of the independent peasant proprietor.52 With the exception of the canal-irrigated colonies which were established at the end of the nineteenth century in what is now Pakistan, these districts were the most prosperous in the whole of the Punjab. Once colonial rule was firmly established, the most immediate economic factors tending to slow down the increase in agricultural productivity in this area were (a) widespread debt, and (b) the fragmentation of land holdings.53 Both of these factors were a direct result of colonial intervention. With the imposition of the British Raj, the earlier cohesion of the Punjabi village community began to disappear. Under Sikh rule land had been held collectively by the community, the integrity of which had held in check the power of the Hindu and mainly urban moneylenders. The British, in order to facilitate the introduction of a monetary system of revenue, abolished the village collectivity and established individual property rights over land. The effect of this was to transform peasants into proprietors and to see the beginnings of land inheritance within families, leading to the problem of fragmentation.54 The decay of the village community and the creation of a market in land

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was a precondition for the increase in the power of the moneylender. This was enhanced following the marked rise in the value of land due to the opening-up of the Punjab to the markets of India and the world. By 1872 the British had built ' . . . over 400 miles of railway, 1,000 miles of metalled roads, and 2,750 miles of canal; trade increased by leaps and bounds; wealth followed in its train, and in the village a money economy began to replace the old system of barter'. 55 Increasing land prices, together with the possibility of fruitful investment, created more and more demand for the services of the moneylender. His rise to a position of dominance within the Punjab was all but guaranteed when, in the mid-1870s, suits for debt were handed over to civil courts. Under the Sikhs the creditor had little standing. The new civil courts would reverse this situation: it was now the debtor who was placed in a weak position. Whereas the mortgaging of land in the Punjab had been a rarity, from this period onwards it became increasingly common as the influence and power of the moneylenders grew. Although wealth did flow into the Punjab during the latter part of the nineteenth century, it was they who were the main beneficiaries. During three decades after the 1870s the power of the moneylender class was at its zenith; over half the farm land being mortgaged by the First World War.56 Not only was it a time when the Punjab was integrated into the world economy, a monetary revenue and commercial system established and an infrastructure of roads and railways built, it was when the colonial stratification of the peasantry into proprietors, tenants and landless began to crystallize. This era of social change also witnessed the first main wave of modern Sikh migration which not only established settlements in other parts of India, but also saw Sikhs 'fattening cows in China, sawing wood in Canada, tinning fruit in California, or trading in Australia'. 57 Apart from its economic role, the Punjab was to assume a growing strategic importance with the changing nature of the Indian Army. The mercenary collaboration of the Sikh rulers with the British in suppressing the Mutiny of 1857 was to have a long-term effect on political developments within the province. Under an ideology of the 'martial races', the British shifted the recruitment base of the Army from the rebellious south to the Punjab and Nepal. By 1914, half of the Army was being drawn from the Punjab and, during the First World War, one in 14 of the Sikh population was mobilized.58 Colonial strategy in the Punjab was largely determined by this narrowing of the Army's foundation. Since only landowning castes were recruited (mainly Sikh and Muslim Jats), an attempt was made to preserve the integrity of peasant proprietorship since it was rapidly being eroded by indebtedness and the transfer of land to the moneylenders. The Land Alienation Act, 1901, and subsequent pieces of legislation attempted to improve this situation by strengthening the cultivators' legal position and preventing the sale of land in execution of a money decree.59 Although this move did curtail the power of the urban moneylending class, debt remained a dominant feature in the Punjab until after independence.

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The First World War and the years following saw an increase in the prosperity of the Punjab helped by both a rising demand for agricultural produce and the returns of military service. Despite this, however, between 1921 and 1930 the agricultural debt in the Punjab as a whole increased from 15.5 to 22.5 times the total land revenue, indebtedness ensnaring 83 per cent of the peasantry. The paradox of debt, as Darling in his classic study was to repeat time and time again, was that it was not necessarily a reflection of poverty. Since debt always follows credit, high levels of indebtedness were more an indication of prosperity and potential than dearth and barrenness. Thus Darling could write that the ' . . . Punjab is agriculturally the most prosperous province in India, and it is probably also the most indebted'. 60 All classes of peasant were involved and, given the high value of land, those with the largest debts were usually the more prosperous sections of the community. It was a vicious circle which few could escape and which, through high interest rates, continually creamed off the benefits of any rise in agricultural productivity, channelling it into unproductive consumption. The other immediate factor inhibiting capitalist development, as already mentioned, was the extreme fragmentation of landholdings. In Jullunder in the mid-1920s, for example the average farm size was between three and five acres. Such farms, however, were commonly divided into dozens of separate plots of only a fraction of an acre each. These factors engendered only a slow rate of agricultural development and discouraged innovation.61 It is in relation to the effects of debt and land fragmentation that one must consider Sikh migration and military service. I have already mentioned that the Jullunder and Hoshiarpur districts were the most prosperous in the central Punjab. Here the numbers of peasants actually free of debt in the mid-1920s, being 27 and 30 per cent respectively, was higher than in other areas. Darling attributed this factor not only to the thrift and energy of the Jat Sikh cultivators concentrated in these regions, but also to the fact that peasants here most readily sought a supplementary source of income. Moreover, 'without his second string to his bow, the Punjab peasant proprietor must always be in debt'.62 Emigration or joining the Army were the most common means of securing a supplementary income. The First World War firmly established military service as a useful addition to farming. The war involved a massive recruitment drive. From 100,000 in 1914, the number of Punjabi recruits increased nearly five times during the period of hostilities; in proportional terms the Punjab supplied ten times more than India as a whole. The recruitment drive was accompanied by the offer of inducements and rewards in the form of land, money, robes of honour and pensions. Over 40,000 people received pension rights which, together with payments to those soldiers still serving, meant that money flowed into the Punjab following the resumption of peace. 63 Emigration and military service were important elements in the consolidation of a rich peasantry in the central Punjab. As such they can 6

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be argued to represent a form of primitive accumulation which helped lay the foundations for the rapid development of capitalism in the years following independence. Cash from emigration and soldiering not only enabled many peasants to free themselves from debt or acquire more land; it also enabled many, given the limited investment opportunities, to become moneylenders themselves and eventually to pose a serious challenge to the urban Hindu.64 In Jullunder Darling notes that 'all over the district, rising above the mud plaster dwellings of the ordinary villagers, are to be seen the pukka red brick houses of those who have made money abroad'.65 Although both helped a rich peasantry to consolidate in the central Punjab, military service can be distinguished from emigration in its relation to the emergence of a rural class of colonial intermediaries. I have already mentioned that the British narrowed the base of the Indian Army to the Punjab and Nepal for strategic reasons and, in order to prevent dissatisfaction spreading among its source of recruits, took steps to protect the integrity of peasant proprietorship. The British also quickly and ruthlessly acted against any signs of emerging political opposition in the province. The result was effectively to isolate the Indian Army from the main currents of nationalist politics. Even the receipt of military pensions was subject to proven continuing loyalty to the Raj. A judicial combination of reform and repression created in the Indian Army a tool, not only of internal control, but also for the suppression of national movements outside India and for supporting the wider interests of British imperialism. Until the First World War, colonial rule in the Punjab was still fragile. Despite the building of roads, railways and irrigation canals, little headway had been made with the integration of the dominant social classes. Recruitment for the First World War changed this situation. The administrative infrastructure, together with the inducements and rewards provided, created links with the countryside where none had existed clearly before.66 It is from this period that the sons of Sikh and Muslim landlords began to pass through Sandhurst on their way to becoming commissioned officers. Lower down the scale, military service provided a pool of tested men from which a rural administrative class composed of policemen, minor civil servants, schoolteachers and the like could be constructed. Moreover, many of the members of this intermediary class had links with the more prosperous sections of the peasantry. During the inter-war period in the Punjab, 'loyalist' elements such as these, organized in the Unionist Party, were the main political force.67 It has already been suggested that, under colonial conditions, the struggle for independence is connected with the quest to raise productivity and to strengthen the conditions for capitalist development. Despite the fact that it helps capitalism, nationalism at least during its period of struggle, is nevertheless a progressive force since it opposes colonialism and seeks to eradicate backward and feudal social relations. Jullunder and Hoshiarpur, apart from being areas of prosperity and emigration,

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were districts in which communist adherents and the militant sections of the Sikh Akali movement were concentrated since their emergence in the early 1920s. Where they were active, these nationalist forces had the more prosperous sections of the peasantry as their main support.68 It was not until the mid-1930s, however, that the peasant movement gathered momentum in the central Punjab. The Punjab Kisan (peasant) Committee, which was formed in 1937, drew its leadership from communist and Akali sources and agitated for independence and reform, concentrating on such things as debt, landlordism and taxation.69 In effect, the peasant movement in the Punjab represented the interests of the rich and middle peasantry and was campaigning for the removal of those political and economic factors which were inhibiting the development of the productive forces. Following independence in 1947, the ruling Congress Party was committed to the implementation of a package of radical reforms to improve agriculture.70 Various acts passed between 1948 and 1955 had as their aim the abolition of absentee landlordism, the imposition of land ceilings, the redistribution of surplus land, the consolidation of fragmented land and the state provision of cheap credit. In terms of helping the poor and landless, these reforms are generally acknowledged as being of only limited success. Their main result, rather than helping the poor, was to encourage the rich peasantry to raise the productivity of their land and for many of their number to consolidate themselves as a rural petit-bourgeoisie. The reforms of the 1950s laid the basis for the unparalleled development of agriculture which would take place during the course of the Punjab's 'green revolution' which began in the mid1960s.71 The social change taking place from the late 1940s and through the 1950s saw the second main wave of Sikh emigration take place; this time with settlement in Britain as well. Independence, land reform and the growth of capitalism through the intervention of a new rural petit-bourgeoisie were responsible for the eclipse of the moneylender. They were events which also led to the outmoding of the intermediary administrative class which had emerged under colonialism. This transformation was at its height during the 1950s. Representatives of the former colonial intermediary class, of decreasing social and political importance in the Punjab, played an important role in recruiting and organizing Sikh workers in the Midlands iron foundries during the 1950s and early 1960s. The Politics of Segregation The 1950s was a time of significant social change in both the Punjab and in Britain. In relation to the iron foundry industry, the effects of mechanization have already been outlined, in particular, the tranformation of the labour market and the manner in which a skill hierarchy was re-imposed on the work organization in the new foundries. The sectionalism which emerged amongst manual workers hinged mainly on the division between

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machine operators and labourers and the ranking of the various grades of worker lying between. Emerging spontaneously with the division of labour under conditions of commodity production, these divisions were institutionalized with the influence of trade union organization. In relation to black workers, trade union sectionalism has a wider significance than just shop-floor organization. The conventional argument that black workers took jobs that the majority of whites did not want is well known.72 There is, of course, an element of truth in this statement. This element, however, is partial and misleading. During the 1960s, for example, it was increasingly apparent that relatively large concentrations of Indian workers had become a feature of the Midlands iron foundry industry.73 The conventional supposition would be that since the previous decade Indians had been replacing whites in an unpopular trade. It could equally be said, and perhaps arriving at a more realistic view of power relations in the labour market thereby, that during the 1950s one rarely encountered any significant concentration of black workers in those companies where trade unionism was strong. This is true of both craft and general unions alike and pertains mainly to the engineering, electrical and vehicle industries. In those sectors, such as public transport, which were well organized but experienced chronic labour shortage, management had little choice but to employ blacks, the result often being a union backlash. A good example here is the opposition of members of the TGWU to black bus conductors which first surfaced in West Bromwich during the mid-1950s.74 In other words, the trade unions, when well represented in an expanding industry, were usually able to keep concentrations of black workers from forming. Although it is true that the drift of labour to the new manufacturing industries during the first half of the 1950s did nothing to increase the popularity of iron foundry work, it is also true that foundries in the Midlands, especially in the West Midlands, were poorly organized from a trade union point of view with a high incidence of non-unionism prevailing.75 This arises from two factors. The first is the relatively low levels of trade union organization in the West Midlands generally during the 1950s. In 1956, the Regional Secretary of the TGWU described the level of non-unionism in the West Midlands as 'a challenge to us all'.76 The following year, he estimated that of the 710,000 employed in manufacturing in the area some 400,000 or 56 per cent of the work force were not represented by any trade union; " . . . in the Birmingham area in particular I believe we are only touching the fringe of the organizable workers in manufacturing industry'.77 The second factor arises from the mechanization of the iron foundry industry and its relocation in the Midlands. The AUFW was still coming to terms with the effects of these changes during the 1950s. The speed at which the new methods of production and the demand for labour with no previous foundry experience expanded in the area outstripped the existing foundry trade union organization; an organization which, in any case, was relatively weak and confined to the more traditional craft and

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specialized occupations. In 1959 the AUFW, like the TGWU earlier, singled out the West Midlands as representing an area which held 'the greatest potential' for the growth of membership. 'In modern industrial conditions we cannot afford to permit large iron foundries to be manned by non-union labour.'78 The concentration of Indian workers in the Midlands iron foundries, which can be traced from the end of the Second World War, was the result not only of labour shortage, but also of the low level or absence of trade union organization. Aurora isolates this same factor as the main reason for the concentration of the majority of Indian workers in Southall during the early 1950s in just a few companies.79 It is interesting to note that, in the West Midlands, the non-ferrous foundries - unlike the iron foundries - are widely known for having retained a predominantly white labour force.80 Both industries are characterized by repetitive jobs and, if anything, since non-ferrous materials (aluminium and light alloys) lend themselves to die-casting, this branch of foundry work was subject to earlier and higher levels of automation. It is true that working conditions are usually better in non-ferrous foundries. In addition, another element which was important in deciding the racial characteristics of the labour force in the two industries was that, during the early post-war years, the trade unions were more strongly organized on the non-ferrous side. By the late 1940s, for example, the TGWU was already well represented in the non-ferrous foundries of Birmingham and Wolverhampton where they clustered.81 Despite low levels of unionization in the Midlands, the trade unions did in fact respond to the build-up of Indians and other black workers in the area and it is important to outline the form that this took. At a general level, there was a tendency amongst trade unionists and employers alike to regard black workers as having the same status as foreign nationals.82 This assumption was common until the end of the 1950s and is illustrated in the numerous domestic agreements between employers and trade unions which sought to extend the restrictions previously placed on foreign workers to blacks. In September 1954, for example, on hearing of the firm's intention to employ five Jamaicans, the TGWU pressed for a domestic agreement with Tubes Ltd., Leicester, to cover 'foreign and coloured' workers. This particular agreement, apart from clauses on the restriction of numbers, the necessity of union membership and the stipulation that they would be the first to go in case of redundancy, demanded that blacks should not be promoted to supervisory posts or transferred to piecework jobs.83 In 1955, the same union reached an agreement with Wolverhampton Die Casting Co. Ltd., which had been organized by them for some years, to introduce Jamaican workers to the Casting Department because of a shortage of whites. By agreement with the Ministry of Labour all potential employees are sent to the firm via our District Office. The firm report that this arrangement is working spendidly. We also have a similar scheme in relation to Talbot-Stead Tube Co. Ltd., Walsall.84

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In the same report the TGWU had noted with concern its less successful efforts to 'reasonably control the intake of coloured labour' on the Birmingham and Wolverhampton buses.85 Other examples could be given but they would only serve to repeat the same general principles: where trade unions were well organized in private industry they were usually successful in controlling the entry of black workers, restricting them to labouring or other menial jobs and confining their employment to time of labour demand. To legitimate their control, the earlier foreign labour agreements were used as a precedent. The typical response of the employers to union pressure of this nature was one of acquiescence. Indeed, it was not until 1954, under pressure from the Ministry of Labour, itself concerned about rising black unemployment, that the Engineering and Allied Employers' National Federation (EAENF) began to try to disabuse its members of the idea that blacks were foreigners.86 Within the Midlands iron foundry industry, a similar response can be observed. In 1949 the AUFW reported a 'vast influx of coloured labour' into an unidentified foundry in the Birmingham area 'where the union had little or no control'. This development was seen as all the more pressing since they ' . . . were gradually being graded up to repetition jobs. It was a phase of dilution which was troubling them more in Birmingham than the employment of Poles and Italians'.87 In Sterling Metals Ltd., Coventry, an unofficial stoppage of TGWU members took place in August 1951 because ' ... they alleged that Indian labour was being introduced on to a section where it had not been engaged before. They regarded this as an effort on the part of the Management to undermine their wages and conditions.'88 In September 1954, a similar dispute arose in Qualcast Ltd., Derby. This time, however, it concerned the Stove, Grate and General Metal Workers' Union. Indians had been employed here 'for some time' as labourers and the management wished to promote some of them to semiskilled machine operators, since no whites were available. The union objected to this upgrading. The Company would if necessary be prepared to treat these Indian nationals in the same way as the imported Italian foundry labour in the event of there being redundancy, but to this the Shop Steward will not agree at present.'89 In reply to a request for advice, the Derby Engineering and Allied Employers' Association (EAEA) pointed out that, since Indians were Commonwealth citizens, the company should avoid committing itself to a foreign labour-type agreement. 'We consider, however, that before promoting Indian workers from unskilled work to semi-skilled work it would be desirable for a firm to satisfy themselves that no suitable British labour is available to carry out the semi-skilled work concerned.'90 The desire on behalf of the trade unions to control the movement of black workers extended beyond the shop-floor to the question of immigration itself. Since it is more apposite, I will deal briefly with the AUFW, although other relevant unions would suffice.91 The official

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AUFW policy on immigration was opposed to restriction until 1966 when, in line with the closing of ranks in the labour movement generally, it came out in favour of control. There was, however, a vocal opposition which pressed for restriction before this date and it was orchestrated from the Midlands. In 195792 and 1958,93 calls were made by the North Midland District Committee - Indians having secured an early foothold in the iron foundries of Derby and Leicester - to restrict black immigration to Britain. The reasons given were the familiar litany of ignorance, unsuitability for the job, openness to exploitation, overcrowded housing and a burden on the welfare state. In 1962, by which time Indians had begun to predominate in several foundries in the Birmingham and Wolverhampton area, the West Midland District Committee argued support for the Commonwealth Immigration Bill. It also suggested that a clause should be included making health checks compulsory and that every immigrant should have a job and accommodation before being allowed in.94 In Conference, this pressure from the Midlands was rebuffed and the 1962 Bill was derided and defeated in a vote. What is interesting is not so much the reasons for restriction, rather those ideas which were advanced in opposition. During the 1950s and early 1960s, these ideas could be said to be associated with the left wing of the labour movement. Within the AUFW, they can clearly be assigned to the strong communist influence within the union during this period. To reduce it to its simplest terms, the left view asserted that the solution to the problem of immigration did not lie in divisive controls but in tackling its root cause. This lay in the poverty induced by colonial exploitation and this could be remedied by a programme designed to develop productively the resources of the colonies and former colonies, thereby creating the employment which immigrants so obviously needed. By doing this there would be no need for people to emigrate. To call for immigration control would do nothing except divide the working class and play into the hands of its enemies.95 There are several points which could be developed in relation to the left view; space however limits the discussion to one. It is an openly economistic treatment of the question: everything is reduced to the presence or absence of jobs; the plentitude or scarcity of wealth. Thus, in the debate on the 1962 Immigration Bill, a communist delegate argued that the Midlands were more overcrowded with whites from depressed areas than with blacks. T h e cure to stop the drift South was to provide work in the North. Similarly, if there was work in Jamaica or Pakistan, there would not be so many people leaving those countries.'96 It is an apt reflection of the perspicacity of the trade union movement that it has attempted to explain all the main social developments in postwar Britain - immigration, Northern Ireland, inner-city rioting, and so on - in terms of the number of jobs available. Whether this mode of analysis is correct or not is another question. With regard to the situation which was described in the Punjab, however, there is clearly a difference of opinion. The left view does not consider that capitalism is developing in

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the Third World; instead it describes a picture of stagnation. Since it does not tackle the question of capitalism, it has no means of understanding immigration as a class phenomenon. Instead it gives the impression of an homogeneous mass of 'immigrants' driven by nothing but poverty. Since there is no notion of development, it is impossible to expand the idea that immigration provides the basis for a class alliance founded upon the internationalization of capitalist production and, thereby, the possibility of freeing the labour movement from its national (and racial) parochialism. Instead, the left view, at best, provides a humanitarian plea for equality and justice or, at worst, degenerates into paternalism, since it holds that these people, motivated by scarcity and ignorance, know no better. The left stance on immigration, moreover, sprang from the same economistic view of the world as the restrictionist ideas that it was criticizing. That is, instead of dealing with social relations, it dealt with quantities of things, be they jobs, resources or houses. Whereas the call for control in the Midlands was based upon the claim that these factors were under pressure, the reply was simply that this pressure would not exist if these same factors were present abroad. It is because the left and right wings of the AUFW shared the same ideological terrain that the union, in 1966, could with equanimity reverse its position on the question of immigration, in line with the change in the Labour Party, and call for control. The situation, it was argued, had changed since the 1950s. Jobs and other resources were no longer as plentiful and ' . . . whether we could eventually have unrestricted immigration depended on how quickly we could expand our social services, get over the housing shortage, and develop our industrial expansion'.97 The overwhelming majority of the AUFW delegates, following the labour movement generally, fell in line with the lead established by the Midlands. During the 1950s, trade union sectionalism in the Midlands, when translated into racial terms, was synonymous with control and restriction. I have already argued that an important factor in the concentration of Indian workers in the iron foundry industry was, apart from labour shortage, its poor unionization during this period. Thus, in discussing the development of Indian concentration we are dealing with the dynamics of a managerial system. It is a system which has been outmoded for more than a decade but, nonetheless, worked well enough until around the mid-1960s. The pattern right from the start was to find relatively large numbers of Indians employed in just a few localized foundries and then for other groups of foundries in other areas to build up similar concentrations. In the Birmingham area, the first Indian concentrations emerged in several Smethwick iron foundries. Midland Motor Cylinder Co. Ltd., for example, part of Birmid Industries which was to help create one of the largest iron foundry complexes in Europe and become the biggest private employer of Indian workers in the region, had a couple of hundred Indians working there in 1947. This represented some 20 per cent of the workforce, many of these men having been employed since the war.98 The

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following year, an undisclosed foundry in the same area also reported having employed '200 or so' Indians for several years, ' . . . coming as labourers, drifted majestically round our yards and shops at a slow tempo which nothing would accelerate, serenely self-contained and silent as the grave. To this day not more than half a dozen . . . can conduct a conversation in English.'99 This early pattern is also suggested by a 1950 survey of 'foreign' labour in West Midlands iron foundries, carried out by the Birmingham branch of EAEA. Of the 147 iron foundries circulated, 67 replied, of which 30 were already employing 'foreign' labour. In total, this amounted to 826 men, 54 per cent of whom were listed as 'Asiatic'; 33 per cent Southern Irish; ten per cent European (mainly Poles) and three per cent Jamaican. At 443, the 'Asiatics' were the clear majority amongst the 'foreigners' employed, all but 13 being described as labourers.1(X) From the evidence given earlier, one can assume that these men were divided between a few foundries rather than being thinly dispersed. The survey also indicates the early association of Indian workers with the iron foundries. Certainly, by the mid-1950s, when the number of Indians in the Birmingham area had reached 'several thousand', they were already identified with 'foundry and labouring work'.101 From initially localized concentrations, Indian workers established themselves in other Midlands iron foundries during the 1950s and 1960s. This was helped both by their energy and success at this type of work, well known amongst employers before the labour troubles of the late 1960s/early 1970s,102 and by the expansion of mechanized production and demand for unskilled labour. This demand, however, was not uniform since, from the mid-1950s until the early 1970s, it followed a roughly fiveyear trade cycle of boom and slump. This periodic intake and shedding of labour was the economic pump whereby Indian workers were circulated throughout the industry. In the West Midlands, by 1954, following immigration trends generally and the existing foothold in the local iron foundries specifically, Smethwick was undergoing a marked influx of Indian settlers. It coincided with a period in which many employers found themselves with a temporary surplus of labour.103 This provided the impetus for seeking employment in other areas and, with the pick-up in trade during the late 1950s, the opening of the gates of John Harper and Qualcast to Indians saw the beginnings of settlement around Wolverhampton. In a similar manner, securing employment in Duport and Coneygre Foundry in Tipton was a stepping-stone for movement into this area during the early 1960s. In all of these places was a similar pattern, that is, the concentration of the bulk of the Indian workers in a relatively few concerns. Around these foundries and factories the Indian community then established itself, after an initial period of male multioccupation especially in the earlier settlements around Birmingham, in the older and predominantly terraced houses being vacated by whites. In examining the concentration of Indian workers from the perspective of managerial prerogative, the first point to make is that the tendency in

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the Midlands was for employers to take immigrants from one country to the exclusion of others or to split immigrants into different work groups by origin.104 The reasons for these choices were often idiosyncratic. With regard to the Sikhs, for example, a manager's favourable experience of the Indian Army during the war is sometimes cited as being the reason to choose initially Indians.105 Within the Midlands iron foundries, Indian workers were used to meet the the growing demand for labourers. It was a demand which, unlike that for piece-work machine operators, could not be met by white labour. Since foundry mechanization only represented partial automation, groups of labourers were still required to complete the production cycle. Given that the majority of Indian workers could not speak English, the group nature of iron foundry work had obvious initial advantages. This absence, however, also created a role for the Englishspeaking intermediary. Wright, whose research on black workers was carried out in the early 1960s and included a number of Midlands iron foundries, claims that the use of intermediaries was ' . . . the most common method of overcoming the language problem where large numbers of Asian workers were employed'.106 Although language did provide a claim to authority, it would be wrong, in my opinion, to single it out as the only factor. Aurora, writing on Punjabi settlement in Southall during the 1950s, vividly describes the social background of these intermediaries. Britain is not only attrative to the comparatively lower-income peasant groups, who are after all manual workers with a certain capital and land, but also the middle class school teachers, ex-noncommissioned army and police officers, clerks and ex-university students (sons of rich peasants and big landlords who have been unable to make their mark) are also coming to Britain, knowing full well that they will have to work as common labourers.107 Indian intermediaries in the iron foundry industry, as elsewhere, were representatives of the rural intermediary class which emerged during the colonial period, especially after the First World War. Apart from a monopoly of English, their authority also rested upon their class position within the Punjab. The 1950s, however, as already mentioned, was a time when the class structure in the Punjab was in a state of transition. The rapid development of capitalism was dissolving the earlier colonial relations and thus the position of the rural intermediary. The vanguard of this development was the 'comparatively lower-income peasant groups', as Aurora calls them, whose representatives were increasingly finding their way to Britain as part of this tranformation. It could be argued that due to the manner in which Indian workers were incorporated into the British economy, intermediaries remained socially and politically significant for longer in Britain than in the Punjab itself. With the knowledge of English and their social background, representatives of the colonial intermediary class, generally older than the average immigrant,108 quickly established themselves as middlemen in the

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provision of labour for the Midlands iron foundries. They helped to find jobs in new areas and, once Indian workers were accepted, they would operate an informal system of recruitment sometimes stretching back to the Punjab itself. In this manner, the build-up of Indian concentrations in the foundries circumvented not only trade union control but also that of the Labour Exchange. Both the unions and the Ministry of Labour favoured the dispersal of black workers within industry and, in this respect, they were more successful in dealing with West Indians than with Asians.109 The role of the intermediary in recruitment was reinforced by the fact that many of them became houseowners and landlords during the initial multi-occupation period of black settlement.110 For the majority of Indian workers arriving in Britain the intermediary was a means of both accommodation and employment. In other words, they were key figures in the Indian community. Each iron foundry with a sizeable Indian work-force usually employed several intermediaries, divided between the different shifts and departments. Their usefulness to management was evinced in a number of ways. Being purveyors of labour and a means of communication, intermediaries were usually treated as the unofficial chargehand of the Indian workers in that department or shift.111 Since group work was the norm in iron foundries, most training for the job could be done within the group; any additional instruction or move to new work would be effected through the intervention of the intermediary. Since they were the agents of managerial authority and frequently directly identified themselves with management, they would sort out any industrial unrest.112 In times of recession, intermediaries would be retained since it was only through their help that Indian labourers could be quickly brought in during a recovery. In recognition of this unique role, it was common for employers to reward intermediaries with better-paid work and more congenial terms of employment.113 The adage that power corrupts finds plenty of support in the operation of managerial control through intermediaries. The most frequently cited abuse of the system is bribery. Until the mid-1960s, it was practically universal for prospective Indian employees to have to bribe intermediaries, themselves often beholden to white foremen, in order to secure employment. In 1955, the managing director of John Tomkins Co. Ltd., Birmingham, claimed to have knowledge of six local companies, including his own, where 'entry money' was being demanded of Indians.114 Stevens' enquiry, conducted at roughly the same time, also refers to its occurrence. At times the method of recruitment through more experienced coloured workers degenerates into what is sometimes called the 'uncle' system, whereby one coloured worker acts as a recruiting agent and receives a fee in return. In one case a weekly payment of £2 was mentioned, in another a single payment of £5.115 Bribery not only influenced recruitment, it also governed promotion

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and the distribution of overtime. On the question of promotion, those examples already given of trade union opposition to the upgrading of Indians to semi-skilled work indicate that it did take place. Two factors have to be borne in mind, however. Wright has argued that, in the iron foundries he examined during the early 1960s, such promotion was usually of what he called a 'differentiated' type. That is, the new jobs were either of a 'deadend' variety, such as crane driver or slinger, or of a type which would not allow whites to be in a subordinate position to blacks. Thus, although a number of foundries with large Indian concentrations could number some Indians classed as skilled machine operators, ' . . . whatever level the coloured workers reached, there was a tendency for coloured workers to do jobs below rather than above white workers'.116 Not only was promotion differentiated, it was usually an intermediary, with the complicity of a white foreman, who controlled access to these positions. Aurora writes that intermediaries in Southall did not like staying in a factory for very long, . . . unless they have some decided advantages, such as being virtual leading hands in the group of non-English speaking workers, doing semi-clerical jobs, working as middlemen-interpreters, or if they are regarded by the management as responsible workers and of the majority of Indian workers as their leaders so that they can use their influence to get their proteges employment or other coveted jobs.117 The use of intermediaries saw the emergence of a cadre of Indians predisposed towards management both through social background and the dynamics of the intermediary system. Their interests were thus opposed to those of the majority of Indian workers. Intermediaries were synonymous with the existence of a work-force where sectionalism had been transformed into segregation. Segregation also meant that differences of ascribed skill were now seen as absolute cultural differences: Indians were regarded as being naturally suited for the labouring jobs to which they were largely confined.118 Until the end of the 1960s, supply permitting, it was the general rule in the Midlands iron foundries to recruit white machine operators direct from outside, regardless of how long Indian labourers may have been employed.119 In other words, in the period under discussion, there was no internal labour market, other than a 'differentiated' type controlled by intermediaries, for Indian workers. It was also a time in which the allocation of inferior toilet and other facilities to Indians was commonplace.120 Earning capacity was also lower. This was disguised in the difference between piece-work and time rates, together with the different bonus and productivity payments that mechanization had engendered. Conclusion Managerial control through intermediaries came under increasing strain during the course of the 1960s. Here, by way of conclusion, I can only

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outline the reasons for its eventual demise. It is a basic principle of dialectics that, under appropriate conditions, a given thing will turn into its opposite. Indian concentrations in the iron foundry industry are a good example of this principle. From being a segregated labour-force in the hands of corrupt leaders, Indian foundry workers became a vanguard in the struggle for better pay and conditions and, above all, for equal opportunity at work. The 1962 Commonwealth Immigration Bill helped produce this transformation. Previously, the temporary nature of migration for many Indians had helped to maintain the power of the intermediary. The passage of the Bill speeded up the change from migration to permanent settlement. The Bill was also responsible for the main wave of primary Indian immigration during the first half of the 1960s. These settlers were men who had grown to adulthood in an independent India and whose struggle to raise the productivity of agriculture in the Punjab had meant overcoming the heritage of colonialism. Permanent settlement, plus a new political dynamism amongst the Indian workers who continued to concentrate in the Midlands iron foundries, spelt an end to intermediaries as a generalized system of managerial control. As the trade unions began to enter the new iron foundries and compete over membership, Indian workers began to join in growing numbers - a move which had previously been discouraged under the intermediary system. As Sangha has argued, Indian workers grew increasingly angry at the corrupt practices and the lack of any real job opportunities that faced them. Many soon realised that the only way to stamp out these 'evils' was to join the trade unions and to fight against such injustices, discriminations and insults which they faced in their work situations. Stories of a degrading nature still can be collected from the first generation of the Punjabis who worked in such conditions in the fifties and sixties; anywhere from the rubber factories of London to the foundries of the West Midlands.121 Some of the first documented accounts of Indian industrial action in the Midlands iron foundries concerned the struggle of Indian workers against bribery. In 1959, for example, a newly elected Indian AUFW shop steward at Dartmouth Auto Castings Ltd., Smethwick, was dismissed after protesting that some Indians were offering the foreman money 'for favourable considerations'.122 A subsequent stoppage by the Indian AUFW members brought his reinstatement. In 1965, there was a twoweek strike of over 500 Indian TGWU members of Qualcast Ltd., Wolverhampton, for the dismissal of their shop steward under similar circumstances. Again, industrial action brought his reinstatement. The bribery charges were placed in the hands of the police.123 Many of the early activities of the Indian Workers' Association and the Sikh Temples were connected with the eradication of corruption and the encouragement of Indian workers to join the trade unions.124 The unionization of the Indian work-force in the Midlands iron

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foundries, especially from the mid-1960s, saw Indian concentrations change from being victims of managerial prerogative to a source of shop-floor power. The struggle against the intermediary was only the first phase; the main struggle over pay, conditions and, especially, equal opportunity was to come. The growth in Indian militancy alarmed both management and trade union leaders and, from the end of the 1960s, an increasingly corporate solution to this development was devised. However, this, and the present phase of unemployment and restructuring, is another story. MARK DUFFIELD

University of Aston

NOTES This paper was first delivered at the Conference on the History and Ideology of AngloSaxon Racial Attitudes, organized by the Research Unit on Ethnic Relations, University of Aston, and held in Birmingham in September 1982. 1. Department of Employment, Unit for Manpower Studies, The Role of Immigrants in the Labour Market, November 1976, pp.46-9. 2. See A. Przeworski, 'Social Democracy as a Historical Phenomenon', New Left Review, No.122, (July-Aug. 1980), pp.27-58. 3. E. Mandei, Long Waves of Capitalist Development (Cambridge, 1981). 4. G.C. Allen, The Industrial Development of Birmingham and the Black Country, 1860-1927 (London, 1929), pp.321-2. 5. W.W. Braidwood, 'A Decade of Progress in British Ironfounding', Foundry Trade Journal (hereafter FTJ), March 1949, pp.253-60. 6. A.E. McRae-Smith, 'A Review of the Major Changes in Grey-Iron Foundry Practice During the Period 1914^1944', FTJ, Dec. 1945, pp.371-7. 7. AUFW, Fourteenth Annual Delegate Meeting, Southport, June 1959, p. 13. 8. AUFW, Sixteenth Annual Delegate Meeting, Great Yarmouth, May/June 1961, p.42. 9. P.A. Wood, Industrial Britain: TheWest Midlands (Newton Abbot, 1976), pp. 155-63. 10. TGWU, Regional Secretary's Quarterly Report, March 1956, p.3. 11. C. Webb, 'Motor Giants' Weakness', Times Business News, 25 Aug 1970. 12. F. Dunleavy, 'Thirty Years Ago and Today', FTJ, Oct 1945, pp. 125-6. 13. H.J. Fyrth and H. Collins, The Foundry Workers, A Trade Union History (Manchester, 1959). 14. T. Brennan, Midland City: Wolverhampton Social and Industrial Survey (London, 1948). 15. Management Report, 'Hale and Hale (Tipton), Limited', FTJ, Dec. 1946, p.382. 16. N. V. Terray, The Foreman and Labour Turnover (Institute of Industrial Supervisors, 1950). 17. Evening Despatch, 10 March 1950. 18. Daily Herald, 3 April 1958. 19. Public Records Office (hereafter PRO), POWE 5/107, Concentration of Production, 1941-44. 20. NUFW, Journal and Report, July 1940, pp. 11-15. 21. PRO, LAB 8/1214, Importation of Italian Ironfoundry Workers, 1945-49. 22. For an account of other schemes involving the importation of European labour see J.A. Tannahill, European Volunteer Workers in Britain (Manchester, 1958).

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23. The attempts by the employers and the state to weaken trade union control, plus the perceived shortfall in Labour's socialist policies, saw an emerging rift in the tripartite coalition of wartime Britain. This rift was not repaired until the latter half of the 1960s under the Wilson government. In the last few years, it has again appeared under similar conditions of significant change. 24. AUFW, Journal and Report, Jan. 1948, p.276. 25. NUFW, 'Memorandum on Labour Shortage', Journal and Report, April 1946, pp.5-7. 26. AUFW, 'Report of Proceedings of Special Emergency Conference', Aug. 1946, p.13. 27. AUFW, 'Statement Presented on Behalf of the Foundry Committee of the CSEU to the Engineering and Allied Employers National Federation', Jan. 1947. 28. Ibid., para. 17. 29. Of course, this is the trade union view of the situation. It should be pointed out that the employers often held contrary opinions, that mechanization had largely de-skilled foundry work. See G. Jones, 'Rational Use of Foundry Skill', FTJ, Nov. 1954, p.633.1 am unable to go into this clash of opinion in any detail here except to say that it would lie at the heart of many of the wage disputes during the following twenty years. As is common an matters of this nature, might usually decided right. 30. The following are a few examples of some of the larger foundries: Horsely and Piggott Ltd., FTJ, Nov. 1945, p.261. GKN, FTJ, July 1946, p.326. Stewart and Lloyds Ltd., FTJ, June 1947, p. 150. W.H. Dormán & Co. Ltd., FTJ, Sept. 1949, pp.313-14. Hale & Hale (Tipton) Ltd., FTJ, Dec. 1949, p.697. Gibbons Bros. Ltd., FTJ, July 1951, pp.47-8. Coneygre Foundry Ltd., W.K.V. Gale, The Coneygre Story (Tipton, Coneygre Foundry Ltd., 1954). W. & T. Avery Ltd., FTJ, Oct. 1954, pp.445-7. 31. AUFW, Statistical Appendices to the Annual Delegate Meeting Reports, 1951-57. 32. FTJ, 'How Big and How Many? ', Sept. 1968, pp.376-80. 33. In America, mechanization had been established earlier and Palmer gives a number of examples of its greater effeciency: R.H. Palmer, Foundry Practice (New York, 1926), pp.277-8, 287-90. 34. For example, Ellis Smith MP and Frank Allaun MP, 'Automation - Blessing or Curse? ', The Foundry Workers Journal, July 1955, pp.309-10. 35. Braidwood, op.cit. pp.258-9. 36. J. McGrandle, 'Present Developments and Future Trends in the Cast Iron Industry', FTJ, Jan. 1953, p. 128. 37. For example, where partial automation is specifically mentioned, see 'Hale and Hale (Tipton) Ltd.', FTJ, Dec. 1949, p.697; 'John Harper and Co., Willenhall', FTJ, June 1960, pp.680-82. 38. TGWU, Area Secretary's Quarterly Report, Sept. 1949, p.13. 39. AUFW, Tenth Annual Delegate Meeting, Hastings, May/June 1955, p. 12. 40. For example, ibid., p. 12. 41. AUFW, Seventh Annual Delegate Meeting, Blackpool, 1952, pp.87-8. 42. AUFW, Statistical Appendices, 1951-62. 43. AUFW, Annual Delegate Meeting, 1955, p.11. 44. AUFW, Eleventh Annual Delegate Meeting, Llandudno, May/June 1956, p. 12. 45. Braverman has argued that, for America at least, this 'ideological upgrading' of the machine operator can be dated from the 1930s: H. Braverman, Labor and Monopoly Capital: The Degradation of Work in the Twentieth Century (New York, 1974), pp.424-34. 46. M. Rimmer, Race and Industrial Conflict (London, 1972), p.34. 47. For Blackburn and Mann's views on the social and political aspects of skill definitions, see R.M. Blackburn and M. Mann, The Working Class in the Labour Market (London, 1979), pp.99-109, 291-3.

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48. D. John, Indian Workers' Associations in Britain (London, 1969), pp.8-19. 49. For an elaboration of this argument, see S. Amin, 'National Liberation and Socialism, Imperialism and the West Centred View of World History', Ikwezi, No. 14 (March 1980). pp.27-40. 50. I. Banga, Agrarian System of the Sikhs (New Delhi, 1978), p.4. 51. B. Josh, Communist Movement in Punjab (Delhi, 1979), p.l. 52. M.L. Darling, The Punjab Peasant in Prosperity and Debt (Columbia, 1978, originally published 1925), pp.40-44. 53. Ibid., pp.42,164. 54. M. Mamdani, The Myth of Population Control: Family, Caste and Class in an Indian Village (New York, 1972), pp.52-3. 55. Darling, op. cit., pp. 172-3. 56. Mamdani, op. cit., p.55. 57. Darling, op. cit., p.36. 58. Josh, op. cit., pp.18, 25. 59. G.S. Bhalla and B.D. Talib, Agrarian Structure and Peasant Movement in Punjab (New Delhi, Centre for the Study of Regional Development, Jawaharlal Nehru University, n.d. 1980?), pp.21-2. 60. Darling, op. cit., p.207. 61. Despite its slowness, development did take place. On the technical side, the 1920s saw the replacement of earlier wooden and clay implements and machinery by metal. The steel plough began to appear during this period. Also simple bullock-powered machinery such as chaff cutters and cane crushers, together with the experimentation with improved seed, were introduced (ibid., pp. 149-53). These implements and machines remained the basic tools of peasant agriculture until the tractor-fuelled 'green revolution' of the 1960s. 62. Ibid., p.26. 63. Josh, op. cit., pp.23-9. 64. Darling, op. cit., pp. 197-8. 65. Ibid., p.44. 66. Josh, op. cit., pp.25-6. 67. Ibid., p. 122. 68. Josh, op. cit., pp. 139-40; Darling, op. cit., pp. 132-3. 69. Josh op. cit., pp. 116-40. 70. P.C. Joshi, Land Reform and Agrarian Change in India and Pakistan since 1947 (Delhi, 1970). 71. See F.R. Frankel, India's Green Revolution (Princeton, 1971). 72. See C. Peach, West Indian Migration to Britain (London, 1968). 73. P.L. Wright, The Coloured Worker in British Industry (London, 1968), p.79. 74. The Times, 16 Feb. and 19 July 1955. 75. AUFW, Lists of Workshops Employing Foundry Workers, Dec. 1947, pp. 146-9. 76. TGWU, Regional Secretary's Quarterly Report, March 1956, p. 11. 77. TGWU, Regional Secretary's Quarterly Report, Dec. 1957, pp. 1-2. See also Daily Herald, 3 April 1958. 78. AUFW, Annual Delegate Meeting, 1959, p. 10. 79. G.S. Aurora, The New Frontiersmen: A Sociological Study of Indian Immigrants in the United Kingdom (Bombay, 1967), pp.80-81. 80. See J. Harvey, 'The Process of Restructuring in the Foundry and its Implications for "the Black Country" Workforce', unpublished MA thesis, University of Warwick, 1981, p.29. 81. See TGWU, Regional Secretary's Quarterly Reports, 1947-51, Metal, Engineering and Chemical Group. 82. L. Stevens, Employment of Coloured Workers in the Birmingham Area (London, Institute of Personnel Management, 1956), p.22. 83. West Midland Engineering Employers Association (WMEEA), Film II, Item 3, Memo, 'Tubes Ltd. and TGWU', 28 Sept. 1954. 84. TGWU, Regional Secretary's Quarterly Report, Sept. 1955, pp. 15-16.

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85. Ibid., pp.17-18. 86. See below note 90; also Engineering Employers' Federation (EEF) (1955) E (3) 125, Employment of Workpeople, Foreign Labour, Chester Association, EAENF, London to EAEA, Chester, 2 Sept. 1955. 87. AUFW, Fourth Annual Delegate Meeting, Llandudno, June 1949, p. 100. 88. TGWU, Regional Secretary's Quarterly Report, Sept. 1951, p. 14. 89. EEF (1954) E (3) 119, Employment of Indian Nationals in Foundries, EAEA, Derby to EAENF, London, 2 Sept. 1954. 90. Ibid., EAENF, London to EAEA, Derby, 13 Sept. 1954. 91. The TGWU is often given as an example of responsible union leadership in the field of race relations. As early as 1955, in response to bad publicity from the activitiesof its members on the West Midlands buses, the TGWU passed a resolution asserting its opposition to 'any form of colour bar'. What is less frequently cited is that the following paragraph 'recognizes, however, the grave situation which is revealed by uncontrolled immigration from any source' (Sixteenth Biennial Delegate Conference, July 1955, p. 18). What is more, whilst continuing to assert its opposition to a colour bar, the TGWU reaffirmed the need for immigration control in 1957 and 1965. Seventeenth Biennial Delegate Conference, July 1957, pp.22-3; Twenty-First Biennial Delegate Conference, July 1965, p.23. 92. AUFW, Twelth Annual Delegate Meeting, Douglas, May 1957, p.35. 93. AUFW, Thirteenth Annual Delegate Meeting, Morecambe, 1958, p.38. 94. AUFW, Seventeenth Annual Delegate Meeting, Rhyl, May/June, 1962, p.97. 95. This viewpoint has been elevated to the level of a treatise in Castles and Kosack's celebrated work; S. Castles and G. Kosacks, Immigrant Workers and Class Structure in Western Europe (London, 1973). 96. AUFW, Annual Delegate Meeting, 1962, p.96. 97. AUFW, Twenty-First Annual Delegate Meeting, Bridlington, June 1966, p.32. 98. Interview with former Personnel Manager (1950-77). 99. Birmingham Mail, 22 March 1948. 100. WMEEA, Film II, Item 3, 'EAEA (Birmingham, Wolverhampton and Stafford Districts) Employment of Foreign Labour in British Foundries', Oct. 1950. 101. The Times, 24 July 1955. 102. Wright, op. cit., pp. 114^15. 103. The Times, 5 Nov. 1954. 104. Stevens, op. cit., p. 12. 105. Aurora, op. cit., p.35. 106. Wright, op. cit., p.36. 107. Aurora, op. cit., pp.30-31. 108. Ibid., p.18. 109. The case of Wolverhampton Die Casting Co. Ltd., given above, is an example of trade union dispersal of West Indians. For the Ministry of Labour's policy of using the Labour Exchanges for the same purpose, see PRO, LAB: 8/1519, Coloured People in the United Kingdom, Registration and Placing of Coloured Workers - General Policy, 1948-49. 110. Wright, op. cit., pp.136, 143. 111. Ibid., p.137. 112. Ibid., pp.136, 138-9, 140, 144. 113. Ibid., p.138. 114. The Times, 16 Feb. 1955. 115. Stevens, op. cit., p. 11. 116. Wright, op. cit., 78-9. 117. Aurora, op. cit., p.82. 118. See Wright, op.cit., pp.92-7. 119. In 1969, Indians at Midland Motor Cylinder Co. Ltd., Smethwick succeeded in concluding a 'Job Opportunity Agreement' which meant that vacancies had to be filled from the existing workforce. WMEEA, Film 178, Batch 20, 2 Jan. 1969. 120. In 1966, the Indian Workers' Association complained to the Race Relations Board

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RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN over the alleged segregation of toilet and washing facilities again at Midland Motor Cylinder Co. Ltd.,: AUFW, Annual Delegate Meeting, 1966, pp.29-30. Also see Wright, op. cit., pp. 173-7. S.S. Sangha, 'Employment and T.U. Participation Among Punjabis', The Asian, Vol.Ill, Nos.6 and 7 (Oct./Nov. 1980), pp.7-8. AUFW, Fifteenth Annual Delegate Meeting, Whitley Bay, May/June 1960, p. 147. Express and Star, 15 Nov. 1965. Sangha, op. cit., p.8. It seems remarkable that, as late as 1979, Brooks and Singh could write of the intermediary system as if it were still of contemporary relevance. Moreover, their examination of the institution verges on the apologetic since it minimizes the extent and implications of the corruption involved. Their approach is to regard it as 'the logical extension of cultural assumptions brought in from the migrants' country of origin'. This general stance is similar to that form of cultural explanation already encountered in relation to Sikh immigration. In both, 'culture' and 'tradition' are seen as timeless unchanging realities which continue to operate no matter how much conditions change. D. Brooks and K. Singh, 'Pivots and Presents: Asian Brokers in British Foundries', in S. Wallman (éd.), Ethnicity at Work (London, 1979), pp.93-112.

Race and Labour in Britain: A Bibliography This is a preliminary and tentative attempt at a bibliography of this wide field. I would appreciate comments and suggestions for inclusion in an improved and more detailed version. I am including material on the history of black and Asian immigration into Britain and its effects on the British labour movement and the attitudes of British workers to the immigrants. Since the bibliography is concerned with works of historical analysis, material dealing with the 1970s and 80s has been excluded. Details of this contemporary work can be found in the bibliographies cited below. This important field has been surprisingly neglected by British labour historians. There is scant treatment of it in the pages of the Bulletin of the Society for the Study of Labour History. The Society has held two conferences on immigration - the first held in 1965 concentrated on Irish and Jewish immigration while the Sheffield Conference with its period limits of 1870 to 1914 necessarily excluded the effects of Commonwealth immigration into Britain and even the racial tensions of 1919. The Conference papers published as Hosts, Immigrants and Minorities: Historical Responses to Newcomers in British Society, 1870-1914, edited by Kenneth Lunn (Folkestone: Dawson, 1980), included only two papers that touched upon the effects of coloured as opposed to Jewish and Central and East European immigration. Richard Thurlow's 'Satan and Sambo: The Image of the Immigrant in English Racial Populist Thought since the First World War' considered attitudes to Jewish and coloured immigrants, although the latter is only treated briefly on pages 57-8. The other paper came from the sociologist, John Rex, 'Immigrants and British Labour in the Sociological Context' on pages 22-32. However a recent bibliographical essay by Barbara Bush in SSLH Bulletin No.45 (Autumn 1982) has partially restored the balance. 'Forgotten Comrades: Black Colonial Labour, and the Development of Anti-Colonialism in the Inter-War years' considers African immigration into Britain on page 28. This was followed by an additional comment by C.J. Sansom in Bulletin 46 on the post-war period with particular reference to South African apartheid. Finally, may I express my appreciation to Colin Holmes and Kenneth Lunn for their helpful and constructive comments on my preliminery drafts and to Sandra Chambers for bringing clarity once again out of a most unpromising manuscript. I. BIBLIOGRAPHIES GORDON, P. AND KLUG, F., Racism and discrimination in Britain: a select bibliography, 1970-1983. London: Runneymede Trust, 1984. LAYTON-HENRY, Z., Race and politics in Britain: a select bibliography.

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Birmingham: SSRC Research Unit in Ethnic Relations, 1980. PHIZACKLEA, A., The employment of migrant! immigrant labour in Britain: a select bibliography, Birmingham: SSRC Research Unit in Ethnic Relations, 1980. 2nd éd.; revised by John Solomos, Coventry: University of Warwick, Centre for Research in Ethnic Relations, 1984. SIVANANDAN, A., Coloured immigrants in Britain: a select bibliography. 3rd ed. London: Institute of Race Relations, 1969. Updated by: M AD AN, R., Coloured minorities in Great Britain: a comprehensive bibliography, 1970-1977. London: Aldwych Press, 1979. II. STUDIES ON IMMIGRATION, DISCRIMINATION, EMPLOYMENT AND RACE RELATIONS ALLEN, S., 'Immigrants or workers? ' in Race and racialism; edited by Sam Zubaida. London: Tavistock, 1970. ALLEN, S., 'Race and the economy: some aspects of the position of nonindigenous labour'. Race 13 (2) (1971) 165-78. ALLEN, S. and others, Work, race and Immigration. Bradford: University of Bradford, School of Studies in Social Sciences, 1977. ANWAR, M., The myth of return: Pakistanis in Britain. London: Heinemann, 1979 (On Pakistani labour, especially in Manchester and Rochdale). A U R O R A , G.S., 'Indian workers in England: a sociological and historical survey'. M . S c , thesis, 1960. London School of Economics Published in part as: The new frontiersmen: a sociological study of Indian immigrants in the United Kingdom. Bombay: Popular Prakashan, 1967; New York: Humanities Press, 1968. BANTON, M.P., The coloured quarter: Negro immigrants in an English city. London: Cape, 1955 (London dockland). BAYLISS, F.J. and COATES, J.B. 'West Indians at work in Nottingham.' Race 7 (2) (1965) 157-66. Between two cultures: migrants and minorities in Britain; edited by J.L. Watson Oxford: Blackwell, 1977. BEETHAM, D., Transport and turbans: a comparative study in local politics. London: Oxford University Press, 1970. BETTS, G.S., 'Working-Class Asians in Britain, 1959-1979'. M. Phil., thesis, School of Oriental and African Studies, London, 1981. BROOKS, D., Black employment in the Black Country: a study of Walsall. London: Runnymede Trust, 1975 (see also comments in Race Today (June 1975) 133-7. BROOKS, D., Race and labour in London Transport. London: Oxford University Press, 1975. BROOKS, D., 'Railways, railwaymen and race'. New Community 4 (1) (1974/5) 37-45. BROOKS, D. and SINGH, K., 'Ethnic commitment versus structural reality: South Asian immigrant workers in Britain'. New Community 7 (1) (1978/9) 19-30. BROOKS, D. and SINGH, K., 'Race relations, industrial relations and pluralism'. New Community 1 (4) (1972) 277-81. BROOKS, D. and SINGH K., 'Pivots and presents: Asian brokers in British foundries' in Ethnicity at work; edited by S. Wallman. London: Macmillan, 1979. pp.93-114.

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175

CAMBRIDGE, A.D. and GUTZMORE, C , T h e industrial action of the black masses and the class struggle in Britain.' The Black Liberator 2 (3) (1975) 195-207; 275-7. CHADWICK-JONES, J.K., 'Acceptance and socialisation of immigrant workers in the steel industry'. Sociological Review NS 12 (1964) 169-83. COHEN, B. and JENNER, P., 'The employment of immigrants; a case study within the wool industry'. Race 10 (1) (1968) 41-56. COUSINS, F., 'Race relations in employment in the United Kingdom'. International Labour Review 102 (1) (1970) 1-13. DANIEL, W.W., Racial discrimination in England. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1968 (The PEP Report that documents discrimination in employment and housing). DAVISON, R.B., 'Immigration and unemployment in the United Kingdom, 1955-62'. British Journal of Industrial Relations 1 (1) (1963) 43-61. DEPARTMENT OF EMPLOYMENT, The role of immigrants in the labour market. London: Department of Employment, Unit for Manpower Services, 1976. DEPARTMENT OF EMPLOYMENT, 'Unemployment among workers from racial minority groups', Department of Employment Gazette 83 (9) (1975) 868-872. DESAI, R., Indian immigrants in Britain. London: Oxford University Press, 1963 (Chapter V: The external economy, pp.68-87). DEX. S., 'A note on discrimination in employment and the effects on black youths'. Journal of Social Policy 8 (3) (1979) 357-69. FONER, N., 'Women, work and migration: Jamaicans in London'. New Community 5 (1/2) (1976) 85-98. FREEMAN, G.P., Immigrant labour and racial conflicts in industrial societies: the French and British experience, 1945-1975. Princeton; Guildford: Princeton University Press, 1979. FREEMAN, M.D.A. and SPENCER, S., 'Immigration control, black workers and the economy'. British Journal of Law and Society 6 (1) (1979) 53-87. GOULBOURNE, H., 'The black workers in Britain', The African Review 7 (2) (1977). GOULBOURNE, H., 'Oral history and black labour in Britain: an overview'. Oral History 8 (1) (1980) 24^34. GREEN, A.D., On the political economy of black labour and the racial structuring of the working class in England (Stencilled Occasional Paper of the Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, University of Birmingham. Race Series, SP62) Birmingham, 1979. HEPPLE, B., 'Ethnic minorities at work'. Race 10 (1) (1968) 17-30. HEPPLE, B., The position of coloured workers in British industry. London: National Committee for Commonwealth Immigrants, 1967. HEPPLE, B., Race, jobs and the law in Britain. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1968. HOEL, B., 'Contemporary clothing "workshop", Asian female labour and collective organisation' in Work, women and the labour market: edited by J. West. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1982. HUBBUCK, J. and CARTER, S. Haifa chance? : a report on job discrimination against young blacks in Nottingham. London: CRE and Nottingham & District Community Relations Council, 1981. ISRAEL, W.H., Colour and community: a study of coloured immigrants and race relations in an industrial town (Slough). Slough: Slough Council of Social Services, 1969.

176

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JONES, J. and SMITH, A.D., The economic impact of Commonwealth immigration. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970. JOWELL, R. and PRESCOTT-CLARKE, P., 'Racial discrimination and white collar workers in Britain'. Race 11 (4) (1970) 397-417. LAWRENCE, D. Black migrants: white natives - a study of race relations in Nottingham. London: Cambridge University Press, 1974. LITTLE, K., Negroes in Britain: a study of race relations in English society. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1947 with 2nd. ed. published in 1972 with an introduction by Leonard Bloom. LOMAS, G., 'Race and employment'. New Society 32 (1975) 413. MILES, R., Racism and migrant labour. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1982 (includes in his general analysis a case study of Irish immigrants in Britain and the responses of British workers). PATTERSON, S., Dark strangers: a study of West Indians in London. London: Tavistock, 1963. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1965. (Part 2: Immigrants at work, especially pp. 143-8). PATTERSON, S., Immigration and race relations in Britain. London: Oxford University Press, 1969 (The labour force pp. 173-81). PATTERSON S., Immigrants in industry. London: Oxford University Press for the Institute of Race Relations, 1968. PEACH, C., West Indian migration to Britain. London: Oxford University Press, 1968 (illustrates relationship between labour demand and West Indian migration). PHIZACKLEA, A., 'Migrant women and wage labour: the case of West Indian women in Britain' in Work, women and the labour market. PRANDY, K., 'Ethnic discrimination in employment and housing: evidence from the 1966 British Census'. Ethnic and Radical Studies 2(1) (1979) 66-79. REID, J., 'Employment of Negroes in Manchester'. Sociological Review NS4 (2) (1956) 199. REX, J., 'The social segregation of the immigrant in British cities'. Political Quarterly 39 (1) (1968) 15-24. REX, J. and MOORE, R., Race, community and conflict: a study of Sparkbrook. London: Oxford University Press, 1967. REX, J. and TOMLINSON, S., Colonial immigrants in a British city: a class analysis. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979. RICHMOND, A.H., Colour prejudice in Britain: a survey of West Indian workers in Liverpool, 1941-1951. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1954. RICHMOND, A.H. and others, Migration and race relations in an English city. London: Oxford University Press, 1973. RIMMER, M., Race and industrial conflict: a study in a group of Midland foundries. London: Heinemann Educational, 1972. ROSE, E. and others, Colour and citizenship. London: Oxford University Press for the Institute of Race Relations, 1969. RUNNYMEDE TRUST, Employment, unemployment and the black population. London: Runnymede Trust, 1981. SCOBIE, E., Black Britannia: a history of Blacks in Britain. Chicago: Johnson, 1972 (Chapter: Servicemen and settlers examines seamen and munition workers and trade union attitudes in 1920s). SMITH, D.J., The facts of racial disadvantage: a national survey. London: PEP, 1976. SMITH, D.J., Racial disadvantage in Britain. Harmondsworth: Penguin 1977 (The PEP report on disadvantage).

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177

SMITH, D.J., Unemployment and racial minorities. London: Policy Studies Institute, 1981. SMITH, D.J., 'Unemployment and racial minority groups'. Employment Gazette 88 (6) (1980) 602-6. STEWART, M., Employment of minorities in Britain. London: Gower Press in association with Runnymede Trust, 1974. THAKUR, M., Industry as seen by immigrant workers. London: Runnymede Trust Industrial Unit, 1976. WALVIN, J., Passage to Britain: immigration in British history and politics. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1984. WRIGHT, P.L., The coloured worker in British industry. London: Oxford University Press, 1969.

III. IMMIGRANTS AND TRADE UNIONS ALLEN, S. and BORNAT, J., Unions and immigrant workers: how they see each other. London: Runnymede Trust, 1970. ALLEN, S. and others, The Trade Union movement and discrimination. London: Runnymede Trust, 1971. BALL, J. and McILROY, J., Racism at work: the role of trade union education. Birmingham: Centre for Contemporary Studies, 1982. 'Black workers and trade unions'. Race Today 5 (8) (1973) 235-46. CASTLES, S. with BOOTH, H. and Wallace, T., Here for good: Western Europe's new ethnic minorities. London: Pluto Press, 1984 (section on trade union responses pp. 149-56). JOHN, D., Indian workers' associations in Britain. London: Oxford University Press, 1969. METH, M., Brothers to all men. London: Runnymede Trust, 1972 (A report on trade union actions and attitudes on race relations). MILES, R. and PHIZACKLEA, A., The TUC, black workers and New Commonwealth immigration, 1954-1973 (Research Unit on Ethnic Relations Working Paper No.6). Birmingham: SSRC Research Unit on Ethnic Relations, 1977. MILES, R. and PHIZACKLEA, A., 'The TUC and black workers, 1974^76'. British Journal of Industrial Relations 16 (1978) 195-207. One-way ticket? migration and female labour; edited by Annie Phizacklea. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1983 (includes an examination of trade union attitudes). RADIN, B., 'Coloured workers and British trade unions'. Race 8 (2) (1966) 157-73. RUNNYMEDE TRUST, Trade Unions and immigrant workers. London, 1974. RUNNYMEDE TRUST The Trade union movement and discrimination: a collection of essays based on papers given at a conference convened by Ruskin College, 1970. London, 1971. RUNNYMEDE TRUST, 'Trade unions and immigrant workers'. New Community 4 (1) (1974-75) 19-36. SHERIDAN, G., 'Racism, discrimination and the unions'. Spare Rib No. 17 (1973) 21 (workers at Standard Telephones & Cables and EPTU & AUEW). 'A success story'. Spare Rib No.17 (1973) 19 (Punjabi women workers and National Union of Tailors and Garment Workers in Southall).

178

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN IV. INDUSTRIAL DISPUTES

Black struggles in Brent. Black Workers Support Group, n.d. BENTLEY, S., 'Industrial conflict, strikes and black workers: problems of research methodology'. New Community 5 (1/2) )1976) 127-38. D H O O G E , Y., Ethnic differences and industrial conflicts. Birmingham: SSRC Research Unit on Ethnic Relations, 1981. MARSH, P., The anatomy of a strike: unions, employers and Punjabi workers in a Southall factory. London: Institute of Industrial Relations, 1967. Grunwick: BELL, G., The battle of Grunwick: the view from the left. London: Socialist Challenge, 1977. DROMEY, J. and TAYLOR A., Grunwick: the workers' story. London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1978. 'Grunwick', Race & Class 19 (3) (1978) 289-93; 19 (1) (1977) 69-73. 'Grunwick strike: the bitter lessons'. Race Today (1977). PHIZACKLEA, A and MILES, R., 'The strike at Grunwick'. New Community 6 (3) (1978) 268-77. ROGALY, J., Grunwick. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1977. ROSSITER, A., 'Risking gossip and disgrace: Asian women on strike'. Spare Rib No.54 (1977) 19. Imperial Typewriters: DHONDY, M., 'The strike at Imperial Typewriters'. Race Today (July 1974) 201-5. 'The closure of Imperial'. Race Today (March 1975) 60-64. 'Back to work at Imperial'. Race Today (Sept. 1974) 249-51. 'Imperial Typewriters strike: the continuing story'. Race Today (Aug. 1974) 223-5. TAYLOR, R., 'Asians and a union'. New Society 28 (1974) 510-11. 'Two worlds in conflict'. Race Today (Oct. 1974) 273-5 (role of George Bromley, district officer of Leicester Transport and General Workers' Union). Mansfield Hosiery Mills: COMMISSION ON INDUSTRIAL RELATIONS, Mansfield Hosiery Mills Ltd. London: HMSO, 1974. DEPARTMENT OF EMPLOYMENT, Report of a Committee of Enquiry into a dispute between employees of the Mansfield Hosiery Mills Ltd., Loughborough and their employer. London: HMSO, 1972. V. WORKING-CLASS AND 'LEFT-WING' RACIALISM/RACIAL RIOTS DIMMOCK, G.W., 'Racial hostility in Britain with particular reference to the disturbances in Cardiff and Liverpool in 1919'. M.A. dissertation, University of Sheffield, 1976. EVANS, N., T h e South Wales race riots of 1919'. Llafur 3 (4) (1983) 76-87.

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HUSBANDS, C.T., 'East End racism, 1900-1980'. London Journal 8 (1) (1982) 3-26. LAW, I. and HENFROY, J., A history of race and racism in Liverpool, 16001950. Liverpool: Merseyside CRC, 1981. MAY, J., T h e British working class and the Chinese, 1870-1911; with particular reference to the Seamen's strike of 1911'. M.A. dissertation, University of Warwick, 1973. PHIZACKLEA, A. and MILES, R., 'Working class racist beliefs in the inner city' in Racism and political action in Britain; edited by Robert Miles and Annie Phizacklea. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979. pp.93-123. PHIZACKLEA, A. and MILES, R., Labour and racism. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980 (In fact, based on a study of Willesden). PEARSON, G., 'Paki-bashing in a north-east Lancashire cotton town: a case study and its history' in Working class youth culture; edited by G. Mungham and G. Pearson. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1976. pp.48-51. REINDERS, R.C., 'Racialism on the left: E.D. Morel and the "Black Horror" on the Rhine'. International Review of Social History 13 (1968) 1-28. WINTER, J.M., T h e Webbs and the non-white world: a case of socialist racialism'. Journal of Contemporary History 9 (1974) 181-92. VI. THE LABOUR PARTY AND IMMIGRATION: POLICIES AND PRACTICES BURGESS, T., Matters of principle: Labour's last chance. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1968. CREWE, I., ed. The politics of race. London: Croom Helm, 1975. DEAKIN, N., 'Labour adopts a White Britain policy'. Venture 20 (4) (1968). ENNALS, D., 'Labour's race relations policy.' Venture 20 (1) (1968). FISCHER, G., 'La parti travailliste et la doctrine de la porte ouverte'. Politique Étrangère 33 (1968) 361-95. FOOT, M., 'Immigration and the British Labour movement'. International Socialism 22 (Autumn 1965) 1-13. FOOT, P., Immigration and race in British politics. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1965. FOOT, P., The politics of Harold Wilson. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1968. 'Foreigners in Britain'. Political Quarterly 39 (1) (1968) 7-82. GRAYSON H.M., T h e British Labour Party and South Africa, 1945-1970'. D.Phil, thesis, York, 1982 (includes a consideration of the Labour Party's racial attitudes). GUPTA, P., Imperialism and the British Labour movement, 1914-1964. London: Macmillan, 1975. HATTERSLEY, R., 'Immigration' in The decade of disillusion: British politics in the 1960s: edited by Chris Cook and David McKie. London: Macmillan, 1972. JOSH, S. and CARTER, B., T h e role of Labour in the creation of a racist Britain'. Race and Class 25 (3) (1984) 53-70. JUPP, J., 'Immigrants' involvement in British and Australian polities'. Race 10 (3) (1969) 3 2 3 ^ 0 (includes study of the Labour movements). KNOWLES, C , T h e Labour Party's Commonwealth: an analysis of discourses on political community in the 1930s'. Ph.D. thesis, City University, London, 1981 (Labour Party's racial thinking in relation to anti-Semitism and Indian independence).

180

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

KOSMIN, B.A., ' "J.R. Archer" (1863-1932): a Pan-Africanist in the Battersea Labour Movement'. New Community 7 (3) (1979) 430-36. LESTER, A., 'Labour's white problems'. Socialist Commentary (June 1966) 5-7, 10. LESTER, A., éd.. Essays and speeches by Roy Jenkins. London: Collins, 1967 (especially relating to his period as Home Secretary and immigration policy). LESTER, A., and DE AKIN, N., eds., Policies for racial equality. London: Fabian Society, 1971. MILES, R. and PHIZACKLEA, A., White man's country: racism in British politics. London: Pluto Press, 1984. SANSOM, C.J., T h e British Labour movement and South Africa, 1918-55: Labourism and the imperial tradition'. Ph.D. thesis, Birmingham, 1982. THOMAS, A., 'Racial discrimination and the Attlee Government'. New Community 10 (2) (1982) 27-78 (Policies illustrated from recently released PRO Cabinet papers). Research in Progress Dr Feuchtwang and his team at City University, London on 'The politics and discourse of race relations and anti-racism in the British Labour movement, 1900V. F. GILBERT University of Sheffield

Index Adams, William 49-50,60,62 Adenese Association 99,100 Adenese seamen 76,84 Advisory Committee on the Welfare of Coloured people 104 African Native Congress 59 African Races Association of Glasgow 62-3 African Telegraph 43-4,45,62 Akali movement 157 alien immigration 2,78-9 seamen's statistics 71 see also immigration Alien Immigration, Royal Commission on 1902-3, 8,9 Alien (Coloured Seamen) Restriction Order 1925 13,80-82,85,86,88, 100,108 Aliens Restriction Order, 1920 13,74,77, 78,108 Aliens Act 1914 80 Allen, S. 174,177 Amalgamated Engineering Union 19,21 Amalgamated Union of Foundry Workers 143,145,158,159,167 attitude to Polish workers 20-22,23 and dilution 146-8,160 mechanization and skills 147-8 skilled workers 150-52 on immigration 160-1,162 anti-Semitism 5,20,36 Anwar, M. 174 Arabs 69,104-5,106,108 seamen 13,14,15-16,17,44 in Cardiff 71,73,76-80,81,82-5,86, 91,97,99 Aurora, G.S. 159,164,166,174 Ball, J. 178 Banton,M.P. 174 Barry 43,52 Bayliss,F.J. 174 Beetham,D. 174 Belgian workers 21 Bell,G. 179 Bentley, S. 178 Betts,G.S. 174 black community source of moral danger 86-98 changes in attitude to 103-4

welfare 104-6 counter-attacks to racism 96 black intellectuals 101 black organizations 100-2,104,108 black seamen 10,13,24,44-6,48-65 ban from British ships 57-8 Glasgow race riots 1919 47-58,62-3,65 poor relief 85 repatriation 73-4,75-6 restrictions on 74-5,77-83 see also nationalities black workers 10 attitudes to 24-5 in Midlands 144-52,159-66,167-8 trade unions 158-63,167 blacklegging 6,31,34,35,37 blacks 1 as students 59 in Glasgow 47-65 in shipping industry 74-86 boot and shoe industry 5-6,35 Booth, H. 178 Bornet,J. 177 bribery 14,16 by Arab boarding-house masters 16, 76,78,83 by Indian intermediaries 165-6,167 British Brothers League 8 British Hondurans 18,24,117,119,134-6 conditions of work 120-21,125-6 living conditions 122-3,124-5,137 health 123-4,128 local attitudes to 126-31,133-4 repatriation 131-3 British Honduras 119-20 British-Polish Society 21,22,23 British Seafarers Union 55,57,61 British Social Hygiene Council Report 92-4 Brooks, D. 174,175 Buccleuch, Duke of 120,126-7 Buckman, Joseph 5,7,8,34-5 Bulletin 47 Burgess, T. 180 Bush, Barbara 173 Byrne, David 15-6,17 cabinet making 35 Cambridge, A. D. 175

182

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

Cardiff 10,62 Butetown 68,69,74 coloured communities 68-74,80 crime 72-3 racial clashes 1903 11-12,13,17; 1911 57;1919 43,44,52,73-4,86; 1930 83 police 68,72,78,82,85,87-93,70-71, 80-81 blacks and shipping industry 74-86 Carrington,Gen. Sir Harold 125,127,128 Carter, B. 180 Carter, S. 176 Castles, S. 1,40,178 Chadwick-Jones, J.K. 175 Chilean seamen 71 Chinese immigrants 9,44,72 Chinese seamen 11,12,13,14,55-6,57 cigarette industry 35 class 35 and ethnicity 3 coal mining industry 36,37,75 see also Lithuanians Coates, J.B. 174 Cohen, B. 175 Colonial Defence Association 102 colonialism in Punjab 153-7 colour bar 96,103,116 armed forces 117,134 British shipping 57-8,61,62,106,107, 117 see also racial discrimination, segregation Coloured Colonial Seamen's Union 101 Commonwealth Immigration Bill, 1962 161,167 Communist Party, 101,102 Confederation of Shipbuilding and Engineering Unions 20,146 Congress Party 157 Cook, David 51,54 Cousins, F. 175 Cowdenbeath 23 Crewe, I. 180 crimping 14,82,91,99 Cronin,J. 30 Daily Record and Mail 47,48,62 Daniel, W.W. 175 Daniels, Leo W. 63,64 Danish seamen 45,71 Dann, Alfred 24-5 Darien Scheme 61 Darling, M.L. 155,156 Dartmouth Auto Castings Ltd. 167 Davidson, R.B. 175 Deakin,N. 180 Derby Engineering and Allied Employers Association 160

Department of Employment 175,179 Desai,R. 175 de-skilling 6 Devonshire, Duke of 132, 133,137 Dex,S. 175 Dhooge,Y. 178 Dhondy,M. 179 Didsbury, Brian 32 dilution 4-5,146-8,150 Dimmock,G.W. 179 Drainer, Dr S.K. 124,128 Dromey,J. 179 Duffield, Mark 18 economic factors in 1919 race riots 46-7 in racism 47,96,106 Edmunds, J.E. 84 Egyptians 71 Emigration, Select Committee on 32,34, 37 employment 174-7 Engineering and Allied Employers National Federation 160 Ennals,D. 180 ethnicity 30 and class 3 European Volunteer Workers 18,19,20, 21,22,23,24 Evans, Neil 9,17,47,52,179 Evening Citizen 47,49 Evening News 47,48,49 Evening Times 47,48,49,62 Factory Act 1867 32 Falk,H.E. 32 Falk,H.E.jnr. 32-3 Finnish seamen 71 Fischer, G. 180 Fishman,Bill 4,36 Foner,N. 175 Foot,M. 180 Foot, P. 180 Forty Hours Strike 55-7 Forward 59 Freak, Charles 5-6 Freeman, G.P. 175 Freeman, M.D. A. 175 Fryer, Peter 1,9,10,13,24,116 Gainer, Bernard 5 Gardiner, Ben 19 Gardner, J. 21 Garrard, John 5,6 Gasworkers Union 5 German immigrants 32-4 Gilmour, David 38 Glasgow 43

183

INDEX race riots 1919 46-58,64-5 blacks in 59-64 Glasgow Emancipation Society 61 Glasgow Herald 47,49,57,58 Glengarnock 36-7 Gordon, P. 173 GoulbourneH. 175 Grayson, H. M. 180 Greek seamen 12,71 Green, A.D. 176 greeners 5,6,31-2 Grunwick dispute 179 Gunning, George 82 Gupta, P. 180 Gutzmore,C. 175 Hal O' the Wynd 48,62 half-caste children 14,88,91,92,94,106 Hardie, Keir 37 Hattersley, R. 180 Henderson jnr., Arthur 82,84 Henfroy,J. 179 Henson, George 78 Henson jnr., George 101 Hepple,B. 176 Hoel,B. 176 Holmes, Colin 34 Hoshiarpur 153,155,156-7 Hubbuck,J. 176 Hughes, Rev. Kenneth 130-31 Hungarian immigrants 33 Hunt,E.H. 7,31-2,34 Husbands, C.T. 179 illegal entry 77-8,79,80,82,85 imagery Chinese 12 black 93-5,103 Jewish 1,8 see also racial stereotype immigrant labour 30 as economic competition 6 in strikebreaking 32 employment 174-7 immigration 9,30-31,174-7 and class 162 European 19 Labour Party 180-81 labour responses 3 see nationalities and specific unions left-wingview 161,162 Imperial Typewriters dispute 179 Indian Army 154,155,156 Indian immigrations 18,71 in Midlands foundry industry 159-66 unionization 167-8 Indian Merchant Shipping Act 11 Indian Workers Association 167

industrial disputes 178-9 International Transport Workers Federation 101 Irish immigrants 8,31 as strikebreakers 31-4 iron and steel industry 36-8 iron foundry industry 143-52,157-61, 162-8 Isaacs, George 19,24 Israel, W.H. 176 Italian immigrants 9,20,21,71 in foundry industry 146-7,160 Japanese seamen 75-6 Jenner,P. 175 Jewish immigrants 4,34-6 imagery 8,34 Jewish unions 4,35-6 Leeds 5,8 tailors'union 5,34,35,36 trade unions, 3,5 stereotype 12,24,35,36 John,D. 152,178 John Tomkins Ltd. 165 Johnson, Tom 49,51 Jones, J. 176 Josh,S. 180 Jowell,R. 176 Jullinder 153,155,156-7 Jupp,J. 181 Keith, J.L. 120,123,124,125,128-9,131, 132 Kelley,G.D. 5,36 King, Amelia 24 Klug,F. 173 Knowles,C. 181 Kosack,G. 1,40 Kosmin,B.A. 181 labour migration 1-2 Labour Party and immigration 180-81 labour responses to immigration see nationalities and specific unions labour shortages 17-19 Land Alienation Act 1901 154 Lascars 11,12 Law, I. 179 Lawrence D. 176 Layton-Henry, Z. 174 League of Coloured Peoples 13,80-81, 86,93,95,96,98,101-2,106,108 Lee, Alan 5,8,36 Leeds 5,8,34-5,36 Leeds Trades Council 5 Lester, A. 181 Lett seamen 71 Lithuanian Social Democratic Party 39

184

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

Lithuanians &-9,10,22,36-9 Little, Kenneth 103,104,109nl 176 Liverpool 9,43,44,45,46,50,72 Lobogola 59-60 Lomas, G. 176 London race riots 1919 43,46,52,55 Lunn, Kenneth 173 MacDermott,T.P. 31 MacDonald, J. Ramsey 39 McIlroy,J. 178 McKenna, Reginald 39 MacMillan, Harold 126-7 Madan,R. 174 Mansfield Hosiery Mills dispute 179 Malay immigrants 71 Maltese immigrants 71,72,87-9,91,92 Manchester 4,5,35-6 Manchester and Salford Trades Council 5,36 Manchester Guardian 48 Marke, Ernest 50,60 Marsh, P. 178 May, J. 179 Meadow Bank Salt Works 9 mechanization 6 iron foundry industry 143-52,157,164 Mercantile Marine Office 69 Merchant Shipping Act 1935 85,96,99, 101 Meth,M. 178 Middlemass,R.K. 39,56 Midlands iron foundries, 143-52,157-61, 162-8 Miles, R. 1,8,176,178,179,180,181 Millar, J.D. 38,39 Ministry of Labour 20,22,74,159,165 Ministry of Supply 118-37 passim Minority Movement 15,101 Moffat, Abe 23 Moody, Dr Harold 96,98,101-2 Moore, R. 177 Moton, Robert Russa 63,64 Murphy, Richard C. 31 Muslims 99-100,102,104-5 National Marine Board 13 National Sailors' and Firemen's Union 57, 61-2,76-7,106-7 National Union of Agricultural Workers 24 National Union of Boot and Shoe Operatives 5-6 National Union of Miners 22,37 National Strike 1912 38-9 National Union of Seamen 2,13-14,15, 76,91-2,101 attitude to foreign seamen 10,11-12,

13,14,15,85 racism 10,16 and Arab seamen 15-16,78,82,84 Negro World 81 New Commonwealth immigrants 24-5 New Poland 23 Newfoundland forestry workers 118-19, 131 Newport 43,52,85 newspapers ethnic 8-9 Glasgow 44,47-9,50 O'Connell, Harry

101

PC5 76,77,106 PageArnot,R. 38 Palmer, Robin 9 Pan-African Conference 59 Patterson, Dr 123,131 Patterson, S. 176 Peach, C. 176 Pearson, G. 180 Phizacklea, A. 174,176,178,179,180, 181 Plaatje,Sol 59 Poles 9,18,19,24,37 in engineering 20-22 in mining 22-3 in the Ruhr 31 see also Lithuanians police role in race riots 1919 52 Cardiff 68,70-71,72,78,80-81,82,85, 87-93 Polish Free Army 22 Polish Resettlement Corps 18,19 Polkemmet 23 Poor Law Guardians, Cardiff 69,75,77, 78,79 poor relief, Cardiff 84-5 Portuguese seamen 71 Prandy,K. 176 Prescott-Clarke,P. 176 prostitution 72-3 Punjab 143,152-7 Punjab Kisan Committee 157 OualcastLtd.

160,163,167

race and labour see specific minority groups race relations 174-7 race riots 15,43-6,179-80 Barry 43,52 Cardiff 44,50 Glasgow 43,46-58,64-5 Liverpool 44-5,50 Newport 43,52

INDEX

185

South Shields 15,43 racial discrimination 24,86,92,96-8,103, 107,174-7 racial prejudice towards British Hondurans 116-17,128,130-31, 135 racial stereotype 2 black 59 Chinese 12 Irish 31 Jewish 34,35,36 Polish 24 racism 1,2,8,24,179-80 economic factors 47 institutionalized 13,116,118ff., 131, 136-7 sexual factors 46,61,65,73,87,88-91 Radin,B. 178 Reid,J.177 Reinders,R.C. 180 repatriation of black seamen 73-4,75-6,78,84, 94-5,96 of British Hondurans 118,131-3 Rex,John 173,177 Richardson, Capt. 93,108 Richmond, A.H. 177 Robertson, John 39 Rocker, Rudolph 36 Rogaly,J. 179 Rodgers, Murdoch 8,9 Rose,E. 177 Rossiter,A. 179 Rothschild Buildings 8 Royal Commission on Alien Immigration 1902-3 8,9 Runnymede Trust 177,178 Russian immigrants 36,45,71

Shipping Federation 82,83,106-7 shipping industry 43,45 depression 68,74-5,76 Sierra Leone 49,50,51,53-4 Sikh immigrants 164 rural background 152-5 military service 154,155-6 nationalists 156, 157 Singh, K. 175 Sivanandan, A. 174 Smethwick 162,163, 167 Smillie, Robert 37 Smith, A.D. 176 Smith, D.J. 177 Smith, J. Muir 16 Socialist, The 47-8 Society for the People of African Origin 44 Somalis 16,44 Cardiff 71,78,82,83,84,86,89,104-5 South Shields race riot 15, 16,17,43,77, 85 Spanish immigrants 9-10 seamen 16,71 Spencer, A. 175 Sterling Metals Co. 160 stereotype see racial stereotype Stevens, L. 165 Stewart, M. 177 Stove, Grate and General Metal Workers Union 160 Strang Steel, J. 126 strikebreaking by Germans 32-4 by Jews 36 by Irish 31-4 by Lithuanians 37-8,39

salt industry 32 Sangha,S.S. 167 Sansom,C.J. 181 Scandinavian seamen 44-5,71 scapegoating 14, 17 Schmiechen, J. A. 36 Scobie,E. 177 Scotsman 47 Scottish Miners Federation 38,39 Scottish National Union of Miners 22-3 Seaman, The 15, 16 segregation 97-8,103,117 Asian workers 143,152,166 Select Committee on Emigration 32,34, 37 sex as factor in racism 46,61,65,73,87, 88-91,127-8 Sharp, N. 53 Sheridan, G. 178 Shinwell, Emanuel 55-7

tailoring industry 35 TannahilU.A. 19 Tarbrax colliery 38 Taylor, A. 179 Taylor, John Eldred 44 Taylor, R. 179 Thakur,M. 177 Thomas, A. 181 Thurlow, Richard 173 Times, The 44 Tomlinson,S. 177 trade union sectionalism 157-8, 162, 166 trade unions 3-4 Lithuanians in 37-8,39 Jews in 4,34-6 attitudes to immigrants 40 responses to Indian workers 158-62, 167-8 Trades Union Congress 2,3,16 alien immigration 6

186

RACE AND LABOUR IN TWENTIETH-CENTURY BRITAIN

women workers 7 Transport and General Workers Union 143,144,152,158,167 response to black workers 159-60 Tubes Ltd. 159 unemployment 82 factor in 1919 race riots 44,56,62 of coloured seamen 75-6,78,84,86 wage cutting 11,34 seamen 14-15,58 mining 37 wage undercutting 5 by immigrants 6,14-15,20,37,58 by women 6,7 Walvin, James 1,46,52,116,177 waterproof industry strike 5,35,36 Waters, Pearl 134-6 West Africans 46,59,86

in Cardiff 71,89 West Indians 18-19,46,59,81,117,165 in Cardiff 71,76,89,90,99,100 communists 101 White, Jerry 8 Wilkins,W.H. 9 Williams, Bill 3,4,5 Wilson, ChiefConstable James A. 87-93 103,107-8 Wilson, Havelock 10,11,13,57,76,107 Winsford, Cheshire 9,32 Winter, J.M. 180 Wolverhampton Die Casting Co. Ltd. 159 women workers 5,6-7,18 working class attitudes to immigration 2, 4,8 Wright, P.L. 164,166,177 Yiddish press 8 youth employment

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