Forty years later, we are facing a convergence of crises: militarism andnuclear weapons, climate chaos and the destruction of jobs by new technologies and automation. These crises mean we have to start thinking about technology as political, as the Lucas Aerospace workers did, and reopen the debate about industrial conversion and economic democracy.

Democratic egalitarianism

What so inspires me about the Lucas Plan is the democratic egalitarianism which runs through its every part – the work processes, the products and even the very technology they propose.

This egalitarian ethic inspired Laurence Hall to make ‘The Lucas Plan’ the focus of a regular gathering of Young Quakers in Lancaster, up the line from the Trident nuclear submarine yards in Barrow.

Eurig Scandrett from the Scottish Green Party made it the theme for Green Party trade unionists because ‘it is the most inspiring example of workers on the shop floor who get self-organised and demand to make what humanity needs.’

The fact that the plan was defeated has not diluted its capacity to inspire. For Scandrett, its defeat demonstrated that ‘it is the vested interests of the military-industrial machine which is the problem, and that workers liberating their collective brain is where the solution lies.’

The broad outline of the Lucas Aerospace workers’ story was familiar enough in the mid-1970s. Workers faced redundancies, got organised, resisted and insisted that their skills and machinery were not redundant. But here they went further. They drew together alternative ideas with those of supportive academics and, with the encouragement of Tony Benn (then industry secretary in the Labour government), produced their ‘Alternative Corporate Plan for Socially Useful Production’, illustrated with prototypes. Management refused to negotiate. The government, under pressure from the CBI and the City, made gestures of a willingness to talk, but would not move against management. The plan was never implemented, or even seriously considered, although commercial companies elsewhere picked up some of the ideas.

So what are the lessons we can draw from this past experience of ‘ordinary’ people organising and sharing their practical knowledge and skills to illustrate in the present the changes of which we dream? Some of the main ones are discussed below.

Lesson 1: Find common ground

A first condition for this group of fairly conventional, mainly middle-aged, male trade unionists to create what became a beacon of an alternative economics was building the organisation that eventually provided the means by which many individual intelligences became what Eurig Scandrett refers to as ‘collective’. Corporate ‘rationalisation’ meant groups of workers were being bought, discarded and the best sold on or used till they fell apart, like sacks of old clothes.

The shop stewards at the different Lucas Aerospace sites forged collective strength by taking action over basic common issues such as wages and conditions. This served to unite groups of workers with very different traditions and interests.

Lesson 2: Build democracy

Immense care and collective self-reflectiveness was needed to bring such diverse groups into a more or less united organisation.

All 35 (or so) delegates had the right to speak at meetings of the multi-union Combine shop stewards committee but decisions on recommendations to be taken back to the workforce were on the basis of ‘one site, one vote’. The decisions were binding on the delegates, who were expected to campaign for them at their local sites, although the sites were free to accept or reject them as they saw fit. This sensitive and consciously protected relationship between the Combine and the sites made it feel as though the members and local shop steward on the office and factory floor were ‘absent friends’, whose presence was palpable.

Lesson 3: Build alliances and look ahead

Although the Combine won victories, they felt as though they were engaged in a labour of Sisyphus – getting national agreement to halt job losses, only to find jobs were being slashed in different places and not because of decisions of local management.

The problem was Lucas’s restructuring towards longer production runs and more computer-controlled machinery, and its shifting investment into other European countries and the United States. The traditional approach of the trade union movement proved inadequate; instead the Combine produced its own experts and made use of outside help to educate and prepare itself.

Lesson 4: Building collective strategic intelligence.

‘We’re in a situation where politics is unavoidable,’ the Combine executive argued, in Combine News, in response to rumours of nationalisation of part of the aerospace industry. ‘Though there have been problems with nationalisation, we could, with the full involvement of all our members, insist on adequate safeguards against many of these. The advantages would be considerable, we would finally be working for our ultimate employers.’

They went on to sow the seeds of the alternative plan: ‘We could insist that the skill and talents of our members could be used to the full to engage in socially useful products like monorails and hovercraft, and that these skills are used in a much truer sense in the interests of the nation as a whole.’

This led to the presentation of the case for the nationalisation of Lucas Aerospace to Tony Benn, then secretary of state for industry. He was impressed: ‘Here was a group who had done the work to anticipate the problem. Others had come to me at the last minute saying their firm had gone bust and what could I do.’

For all his enthusiasm, he did not have the power to agree to nationalisation, but he suggested that the Combine should draw up an alternative corporate strategy for the company.

At first there was some scepticism. But the necessity of finding a new solution drove them on, and beyond management’s framework.

‘The only way that we could be involved in a corporate plan would be if we drew it up in a way which challenged the profit motive of the company and talked in terms of social profit,’ argued Combine delegate Mike Cooley, a designer who chaired the local branch of the technical trade union TASS.

The plan for socially useful production was a carefully phased process. Another Combine delegate, Mick Cooney, a fitter from Burnley, described the challenge: ‘The Combine wanted to know what machine tools we had. To do the Corporate Plan we were having to think as if we were planning. It really made the shop stewards sit up.’ The Combine asked site committees questions aimed to stimulate workers’ imagination: ‘How could the plant be run by the workforce? Are there any socially useful products which your plant could design and manufacture?’

Experiences of all kinds and knowledge of the company’s capacities led to 150 product ideas in six categories: medical equipment, transport vehicles, improved braking systems, energy conservation, oceanics, and telechiric machines.

Lesson 5: Know the limits

The idea inspired workers throughout the defence-related engineering industry, including the vast yards building nuclear submarines in Barrow, where designers worked with Mary Kaldor to submit alternatives to the Labour party defence policy committee. In the 1970’s the yards were owned by Vickers which also made tanks at the Elswick works on the Tyne in Newcastle. In Vickers a strong Combine Committee had been built in response to very similar pressures of rationalisation, acquisitions and closures that had stimulated the growth of the Lucas Aerospace Combine Commitee. Both Combine Committees had links with the Institute for Workers Control (IWC) and through the conferences and political connections organised by the IWC they found common cause in the idea of alternative plans for socially useful production. The shop stewards in the Elswick and Scotwood works responded to threats of reduncancies by drawing up such plans and gaining the support of Tony Benn and his close ally Stuart Holland. They made contact with shop stewards at Barrow, especially in the design office who were already doing their own work on alternatives. There had, in Barrow, been an earlier initiative towards diversification coming from Vickers management, led by an innovative engineer, George Henson, whose Quaker principles led him to refuse to work on the TSR2 at Vickers Weybridge plant and led to his move to Barrow where management wanted to diversify away from total dependence on government defence contracts.

However, Vickers responded to subsequent government nationalisation plans by keeping the profitable diversified section, making submersibles for deep sea oil exploration and handing over the yards to the government. The separation was a major blow to any longer-term diversification programme, but it’s success was a powerful memory for the designers who were still working on nuclear submarines and they were responsive to the contacts from across the country in Newcastle to collaborate on alternative plans to submit to the Labour party’s diversification committee. Labour’s defeat in 1979 closed down these possibilities. Later however, in the 1980s, some of those designers helped to create the Barrow Alternative Employment Committee (BAEC) to produce proposals for alternatives to Trident. By this time the Barrow yards were owned by British Aerospace, which rejected the strategy of civil diversification to keep skilled teams together. BAe concentrated entirely on its ‘core business’ whatever the cost in terms of loss of jobs.The only exception was war ships, the manufacture of which dominated the yards until the recent renewal of Trident.

Terry McSorley, a member of the now defunct BAEC, says: ‘The lesson I learnt is that site-based diversification won’t work’. Instead he now argues for an approach that integrates defence conversion with industrial strategy.

Steve Schofield, who was a researcher for the BAEC, draws a similar conclusion: ‘The Labour movement needs a much more ambitious arms conversion programme to challenge the embedded power of the military-industrial-complex.’ He argues for a change in security policy towards UN peacekeeping and peace building and suggests a combination of publicly-funded, national and regional investment banks for industries such as offshore wind and wave power to ensure an equitable distribution that benefits the small group of arms-dependent communities, including Barrow-in-Furness, Glasgow, Preston, Aldermaston and Plymouth.

Drawing on Lucas and his own more problematic experience in Barrow, he is certain that trade union and community participation is essential to guaranteeing that the skills of working people are maintained and enhanced.

We are in new times for trade union organisation but interest in democratic economics is increasing with the spread of green and solidarity economies, commons-based peer-to-peer production, and grassroots fabrication in ‘hackerspaces’ and ‘fab labs’. All of which has deepened ideas about connecting tacit knowledge and participatory prototyping to the political economy of technology development, as was the case with Lucas.

The lessons from the Lucas plan provide Labour’s proposed arms conversion agency with elements of a methodology for a network of organisations with an understanding of technological development not as a value-neutral process, autonomous from society, but shaped by social choices over its development – choices that the Lucas stewards showed need to become democratic.

This ‘ordinary’ group of workers demonstrated how it was possible to create a democratic economy. It is they, after all, who have the practical know how on which that technological development depends.

Originally published in Open Democracy

Photo by TheLeadSA

The post When the workers nearly took control: five lessons from the Lucas Plan appeared first on P2P Foundation.

Robin’s vision was always grounded in what exists. It starts from a radical move away from the conventional classification of the economy as the market, state and ‘third sector’. He argued instead that the key divide is between those parts of the economy that are driven by social goals (the social economy) and those that are subject to the imperatives of capital accumulation.

The social economy is a hybrid of several sub-economies, all distinct in how they are financed, who has access to output and on what terms, what kinds of social relations are involved, how surplus is distributed and what kind of economic discipline is exerted to achieve their social goals. They consist of the household, governed by relations of reciprocity; the state, funded by taxes and governed in theory by democratically-decided social goals; and that section of the market that involves the exchange of equivalents (between small social or co-operative businesses) and not yet dominated by capitalist enterprises.

They are all in different ways in conflict with the profit-driven economy and vulnerable to its imperatives. But there is nothing intrinsic to the state, grant or household economies that drives them towards capital accumulation. As economies they are oriented to their own social goals. Each can operate in the market (or, as Robin would say, ‘in and against the market’ – just as when we worked together at the Greater London Council we were, in Robin’s view, working ‘in and against’ the state) in pursuit of their goals without being drawn into the vortex of accumulation.

The cell is key

How different civil economic initiatives work to pursue their social goals was his interest, and how to strengthen them was his political passion. ‘It’s the cell that’s the most important and what we must study,’ he said when I last saw him, moving a discussion from systems of planning to the micro-detail of the highly successful Japanese consumer co-ops. For him the conditions of success of the cell was key: ‘If the cell is flourishing, that’s the thing.’

He was also concerned to explain the patterns of emergence of many cells. He pointed to the importance of the marginalised responding to globalisation, and of responses to the challenges of climate change to which neither market nor state had solutions. He highlighted the importance of ICT and the ways it enables complex distributed initiatives to connect, makes it possible for people to collaborate across production and consumption, and facilitates platforms for co-operation and the infrastructure for a massive increase in the civil economy.

One trend that particularly excited him was the rise of fair trade as a counterpoint to neoliberalism. He would have fought hard against the serious threat it now faces from major UK supermarkets, led by Sainsbury’s, who are planning to replace the Fairtrade mark, with their own ‘Fairly Traded’ label undermining decades of hard-won rights for hundreds of thousands of co-operative producers.

The term was first used in 1988 to refer to the surge of solidarity trading networks. Though they take different forms, reflecting different struggles, they are all part of an attempt to socialise the market and remake the relationships, rules and purposes of international trade. The idea works on several different levels, which can be in tension – but tension was never a problem for Robin.

On one level it involves the various kinds of fair trade shops, such as Altromercato in Italy, 300 ‘world’ shops with an annual turnover of $48 million. Shops that for Robin carried ‘within them the political economy of the world in one hundred objects’. On another level there are brands, such as Cafedirect, established between producer co-operatives. Twin Trading, which Robin helped to found, had become the sixth largest coffee brand in the UK by 2005. It used its brand profits to provide an extensive programme of technical support for producers. It extended the model to cocoa through Divine chocolate, fresh fruit (Agrofair UK) and nuts (Liberation) – all of them, including Twin Trading itself, co-owned by the producers. The next level involved the formation of an international body, the Fairtrade Labelling Organisation, to operate an international trademark and ensure consistency. Finally, via ALBA, an alliance of progressive Latin American countries, fair trade extended into government policy.

Transforming the state

It is this final challenge of how to integrate the state and civil economy that especially intrigued Robin. It was in just such an experiment in public-civil collaboration that I worked closely with him for five years at the GLC. He was the ‘chief economic advisor’ – titles meant little to him; I was his deputy and co‑ordinator of the Popular Planning Unit. We were, in his words, showing ‘how to heal that conceptual split introduced by 19th-century liberal theory: the forced separation of the economic and the political’.

Our work involved transforming the state, so that it was more supportive of the creative capacities and associational power of the civil economy and more intransigent in resisting the imperatives of private capital. Two principles of Robin’s were important. First, ‘productive democracy’: the idea that the state and civil economy, especially through the organised capacities of labour – household labour and precarious labour as well as waged labour – was productive, breaking the dependence of democratic politics on private capital. Second, the role of the state in supporting – not substituting – the realisation and development of the capacities of civil economic associations.

This support took many forms, with Robin and the GLC leadership always encouraging a bold, experimental approach. Sometimes it was a matter of using the GLC’s powers to block financial speculators – for example, supporting the community development plans of the people of Coin Street, Waterloo, against office developers from the City. Sometimes it involved using the GLC’s high public profile to support workers organising in multinationals such as Ford and Kodak with public inquires that questioned capital’s sacrifice of jobs and communities in the constant search for profit. At other times, it involved encouraging civil organisations to produce positive plans for socially-useful jobs, whether by negotiating research support for trade unions to develop alternative plans for rundown industries, or working with women’s groups across London on proposals for childcare that the GLC would then fund.

It was an experiment made possible by Robin’s ability to draw on a wealth of historical experience of associational/co-operative socialism and combine it with modern ideas of participatory democracy or ‘popular planning’. The memory of his generative and supportive leadership will continue to animate many people engaged in productive democracy of all kinds, whether in reversing power relations in the food chain, developing peer-to-peer production with the digital commons, or spreading models of decentralised and co-produced health care, personal care for the elderly and childcare. His arguments and ideas will live on and will animate our lives as we seek out our path away from neoliberalism.

This support took many forms, with Robin and the GLC leadership always encouraging a bold, experimental approach. Sometimes it was a matter of using the GLC’s powers to block financial speculators – for example, supporting the community development plans of the people of Coin Street, Waterloo, against office developers from the City. Sometimes it involved using the GLC’s high public profile to support workers organising in multinationals such as Ford and Kodak with public inquires that questioned capital’s sacrifice of jobs and communities in the constant search for profit. At other times, it involved encouraging civil organisations to produce positive plans for socially-useful jobs, whether by negotiating research support for trade unions to develop alternative plans for rundown industries, or working with women’s groups across London on proposals for childcare that the GLC would then fund. It was an experiment made possible by Robin’s ability to draw on a wealth of historical experience of associational/co-operative socialism and combine it with modern ideas of participatory democracy or ‘popular planning’. The memory of his generative and supportive leadership will continue to animate many people engaged in productive democracy of all kinds, whether in reversing power relations in the food chain, developing peer-to-peer production with the digital commons, or spreading models of decentralised and co-produced health care, personal care for the elderly and childcare. His arguments and ideas will live on and will animate our lives as we seek out our path away from neoliberalism.”

Cross-posted from Red Pepper.Photo by JD Hancock

The post Robin Murray: A very social economist appeared first on P2P Foundation.

People and ideas, the lived and the meaning of life. Their connection was never lost in anything Robin did or said. Even as he lay breathless with the terminal lung disease which led to his death, and under firm medical advice not to talk too much, he could not contain his passion for both people and ideas. The energy of their relationship was his life force. He could not imagine living without talking about both, between sucking the means to do so from his oxygen machine. One evening’s topic were the ideas of Allende’s cybernetics advisor Stafford Beer and, more generally, the idea of the economy as a nervous system. At the same time, Robin’s starting point was always the health of the cell in its environment, the dynamics of the particular. He was forever fascinated by exemplary initiatives and how they worked, the conditions for their success. So, between breaths, the conversation would turn to the burgeoning Japanese consumer co-operative movement. Or to the co-operative shop in his original home county, Cumbria, to which even as his illness advanced, he devoted inordinate effort.

Above all, he was perennially fascinated by people’s personal stories, especially the stories of the young people in his family or helping with his care. The stories from his talented daughter, Beth and her Italian boyfriend Gianluca, of a visit to Gianluca’s olive growing family in northern Italy, and of exactly how his father harvested and sorted the olives. Or of how my niece Jessi proposed to her boyfriend in a tent during a hike across a Himalayan pass. “I asked her to describe the exact moment”, he said afterwards. He lived for the moment as his illness took hold. But his irrepressible curiosity about what moments were important for other people was, throughout his life, one of the qualities that made him so universally loved.

Our most thrilling moments together were when he was appointed to lead a small band of economic guerrillas who were brought into the GLC by Ken Livingstone in 1981; along with John McDonnell and the Chair of the Industry and Employment Committee, Michael Ward. Our brief was to draw up and help implement the London Industrial Strategy. Robin was a wonderful leader. He had the self-confidence to permit creative autonomy for diverse groups of us within the 70 or so strong Industry and Employment Department. At the same time he used the power of hierarchy to move against enemies of change – like the senior official who was determined to sabotage the Industrial Strategy in its early days. I led the Popular Planning Unit and although a few eyebrows were raised at our proposals – for example for the GLC to buy (unsuccessfully as it happened because of Tory government opposition) the Royal Docks in order to implement the People’s Plan for the Royal Docks (a community plan for an alternative to the City Airport) – Robin gave us constant encouragement. The politicians, Mike Ward along with Livingstone and McDonnell, won the space for new thinking. Robin was the ideal person to make full use of it and recruit a team to grasp every opportunity we could – and push them to the limit.

And what a team! Robin was immensely proud of colleagues like Mike Cooley, the brilliant design engineer who was one of the inspirations behind the alternative plan for socially useful production drawn up by the Lucas Aerospace Shop Stewards in the 1970s. This in turn became one of the beacons guiding our work at the Popular Planning Unit. Sheila Rowbotham was another inspiring member of the team, who worked with women’s groups across London to draw up a London wide plan for child care – part of the innovative ‘Domestic Care’ section of the Industrial Strategy. John Palmer, ex-European Editor of the Guardian became the publicity director and a member of the board of the Greater London Enterprise Board (GLEB). Many more received a transformative, practical education: Geoff Mulgan, Ken Worpole, Marj Mayo, John Hoyland, Bob Colenutt.

With poetic licence, one could say we worked like a combination of a jazz band, integrating structure and improvisation and a guerrilla band, agile but with an unrelenting focus on the enemy: big corporate capital and the Thatcher Government (and sometimes, bureaucratic sabotage within County Hall). The guiding purpose was set out in the London Labour Party’s manifesto, whose radical principles we were employed to implement, and more important still, Robin’s overarching understanding of the transition underway in the capitalist economy in London as elsewhere – as the principles of Fordism faced crisis and challenge. He argued that the features that made for the Fordist goal of ‘economies of scale’ – standardised products, mass, flowline production, fragmented tasks controlled by management with little if any autonomy for workers creativity or discretion – were being abandoned under the pressures of workers revolt, demands for deeper democracy in state organisation and more differentiated, sophisticated consumer demand in favour of what he called ‘the economies of scope’. This meant a shift towards economies coming from an integrated product range from which customers choose their own basket of products. In the process, innovation and design becomes more important, and a flexible workforce becomes desirable. The post-Fordist bargain offered security in return for flexibility – in contrast to the Fordist bargain of high wages in return for obedience to the discipline of the production line.

But post-Fordism did not mean one single inevitable outcome of a skilled, well-paid and willingly flexible workforce. This is where Robin’s creative Marxism and his understanding of struggle and of a political choice came in. He saw it as a choice between a Japan-style model, in which security in exchange for flexibility applies only in the small core of the economy and workforce flexibility on a widescale is achieved through mass insecurity. This was to lead on to the precariousness that is now all too prevalent within Thatcher’s post-Fordist world. Or, on the other hand, networks of social industrial institutions, decentralised, innovative and entrepreneurial, supported by a state organisations that plays the role of strategist, innovator, coordinator and supporter of producers, on the model of Northern Italy and parts of Southern Germany. Added to this, argued Robin, should be greater user/ community control and internal democracy in public administration to move away from a mass-produced administration towards a participative, responsive state.

Thus, whereas nationally the left response to deindustrialisation and the decline of Fordist manufacturing has been in terms of macro policy: devaluing the pound, controlling wage levels and expanding investment, with industrial strategy taking second place, Robin saw the opportunity of using the GLC’s considerable budget for investment and public purchasing and the land use powers and property ownership to develop exactly the detailed local industrial strategy which might expand the co-operative and social sector of the economy, creating skilled and fulfilling jobs and the local, targeted investment and integrated sectoral strategies which had worked well in regions of Northern Italy and Southern Germany.

It was in this detail that there was improvisation. Robin encouraged the various units of the Industry and Employment Branch to experiment with different kinds of intervention, collaborating as we worked. So, while in Popular Planning we worked with furniture workers developing their plans for the industry, others would be researching the trends in the furniture sector and yet others at GLEB, would be negotiating with furniture employers wanting investment funds; insisting with these employers that such funds were conditional on negotiating with the union over their worker developed alternatives. Had Robin been allowed to build on his strategy, London today would be a world centre not just of furniture design but of its manufacture.

In all this Robin’s understanding of the specific combined with his grasp of the theoretical meant that he could guide the implementation of strategy in a manner that was rooted in the actual relations of production in London in the early 1980s. His was a rare and a precious practical intelligence and far-sighted mind.

He also thrived on actually having power, albeit the limited power of a large local strategic authority, to carry out the strategies on which previously he had only advised – as an academic at Sussex University’s Institute of Development Studies.

He also enjoyed a distinctive upper class confidence – without any hint of arrogance or presumption. He was the grandson of two members of what could be called ‘the dissenting posh’ Lady Carlisle a radical Quaker member of the Castle Howard aristocratic dynasty and the liberal classicist professor Gilbert Murray. He had been sent to Bedales – a co-educational boarding school for the progressive upper-middle class – with the egalitarian democratic ethos, and became head-boy. Frances was head girl and they formed a lifelong relationship.

At the same time influenced by the ‘spirit of ’68’ and active, again with Frances, in grassroots social movements he had the social capacity and desire to make good a far-reaching political and strategic challenge. It was a potent combination. Together with Mike Ward he had no hesitation in challenging capital and bureaucracy wherever it blocked radical change, at the same time as opening the space for popular participation. Crucially, there was not an iota of paternalism, or presuming they knew what the populace were presumed to need. He set out on a path of socialism without Labourism and its upper class Fabian elitism. As Norman Tebbit said threateningly on the eve of the GLC’s abolition: “this is modern socialism and we intend to kill it”.

But it lives on. For it is not surprising that Robin’s four years of intense work, halted by Margaret Thatcher’s act of political vandalism in 1986, should have produced a wealth of ideas from which John McDonnell has been able to draw for Labour’s persuasive manifesto that just could on June 8th, finally put an end to neoliberalism nationally as Robin’s London Industrial Strategy sought to defeat it in London.

This is just one way in which Robin’s legacy of hope will live on with us and through us. In the intervening years, to give just one example, his restless and inventive energy pioneered twin trading and created the Fair Trade network that supports tens of thousands of small farmers in developing countries. He lives on, he cannot but live on, and this is why, in spite of the sadness that this remarkable man with his indominatable spirit and generous enthusiasm is no longer physically part of our lives and no longer welcoming us with Sunday breakfast, tears will continue to well but not easily flow. Instead, his life and ideas continue to live.

The post On the life of Robin Murray, visionary economist appeared first on P2P Foundation.