King George made a speech at the opening ceremony that was broadcast to an audience of over 10 million people, the first of many occasions on which the monarch used the medium to promote imperial unity. George expressed the hope that the exhibition would bring lasting benefits both to the empire and ‘to mankind in general’. Concentrating on the former aim, the Tory government promoted self-government within the empire at the 1926 Imperial Conference of British Empire. The meeting reformulated the relationship between Britain, Canada, South Africa and the Irish Free State, defining these countries as ‘autonomous Communities within the British Empire, equal in status, in no way subordinate one to another.’ The imperial parliament no longer determined any aspect of the domestic or external affairs of these dominions, which were decided by their own elected bodies.
In 1926, a relatively liberal viceroy in India was appointed. Lord Irwin, who believed that India should eventually be given dominion status, quickly established a cordial relationship with Mahatma Gandhi. The Indian leader had recently been imprisoned on a charge of sedition, after coordinating a ‘non-cooperation’ campaign during which thousands of Indians boycotted British goods and institutions. Baldwin sensed that nationalism was becoming an irresistible force in India; the selection of Irwin as viceroy acknowledged the situation.
A powerful challenge to Baldwin’s mission of conciliation would arrive soon enough. England’s industrial and manufacturing sectors had long been in decline and exports had fallen further since the post-war slump. Churchill’s decision to return to the gold standard had strengthened sterling and reduced import prices, but this made English exports even more expensive and harder to sell on international markets. In the country’s heavily indebted and antiquated coal, shipbuilding, iron, steel and cotton industries, profits declined and workers were laid off. Arguments inevitably rose about the extent to which the state should intervene in the economy in order to protect industries and those who worked in them. The English population had been radicalized by the experience of war; so had the thinking of economists. John Maynard Keynes argued that the state should take an active role in the peacetime economy and that wages should be determined by a standard of equity rather than by the market. Meanwhile, Labour and the unions enjoyed increasing political power. In such a climate, the Tories could no longer argue that the laws of the market were sacrosanct.
Nevertheless, many producers were adamant that the only way to reduce export prices was to cut wages, while the unions argued that profits could be used to modernize the staple industries. In 1925 mine owners proposed wage reductions of around 13 per cent, and the miners’ union called a strike. The Trades Union Congress was lukewarm about the industrial action but decided to support the miners, partly out of shame for its capitulation on ‘Black Friday’ four years previously and also in the hope that it might bring about a compromise: it would pressure the miners into accepting an accommodation if the prime minister could persuade the mine owners to reduce their demands. Baldwin, whose experience as an industrialist gave him an insight into the dispute, agreed to act as an ‘honest broker’ between the antagonists. While he blamed the ‘stupid and discourteous’ employers for bad management, he also criticized the restrictive practices of the workers. To the dismay of some in the Tory party, Baldwin averted the strike with the help of the TUC; he promised to subsidize the miners’ wages for nine months, during which time a committee would explore ways of increasing the efficiency of the coal industry.
The report recommended reorganizing and partially nationalizing the industry in the long term, while cutting wages in the short term. The mine owners opposed the former recommendations and the miners rejected the latter, so the negotiations were back to square one. To the government’s annoyance, the owners inflamed the situation by proposing increased working hours for the miners, as well as reduced pay. The miners responded by calling another strike, which the TUC was obliged to back. Despite the misgivings of many trade unionists, a ‘general’ strike of miners, railwaymen, transport workers, printers, dockers, ironworkers and steelworkers was announced. MacDonald and his supporters within the Labour party were dismayed, believing progress for the working man could best be achieved through parliament rather than by industrial action or widespread social protest. Baldwin was so horrified by the prospect of a general strike that he took to his bed. When he returned to the cabinet he found it divided between those who, like himself, favoured conciliation, and those who wanted to ‘stand up’ to the unions. Churchill was in the latter party, as was Chamberlain; their view prevailed.
The General Strike began at midnight on 3 May 1926. All union members in the specified trades ceased to work in support of the miners, at considerable cost to themselves and their families. With around 1.75 million workers striking, the economy might have come to a standstill. That it did not was due to the government’s careful planning and the efforts of middleand upper-class volunteers, who drove trains, delivered food and joined the ranks of the police. There were violent confrontations between the police and the strikers, especially in London and in northern cities. To Baldwin’s distress, Churchill did his best to aggravate hostility, branding the strikers ‘the enemy’, demanding the ‘unconditional surrender’ of the ‘subversives’ and proposing to arm any soldiers who confronted them.
Yet despite the episodes of violent class conflict in the General Strike, it is also remembered for the amity displayed between the strikers and the police. In many areas of the country, striking workers helped the police officers deliver food, while elsewhere the opposing sides played football against each other. If this was class war, it was not the sort of bloody conflict that had characterized similar episodes on the Continent. The strike was also remembered with fondness by many middleand upper-class volunteers as a break from routine. Privileged women enjoyed dressing and acting like members of the lower orders. By keeping the economy afloat during the strike, the volunteers were also determined to demonstrate a sense of patriotic duty.
The tendency of volunteers and later historians to highlight the lighter side of the strike obscures the sense of revolution that hung over the country. Baldwin was acutely aware of the threat. He condemned the strike as an anarchic and communist attack on parliamentary democracy and the liberties of the people, since the elected government had opposed the industrial action. The unelected unions, he claimed, were ‘starving the country’ in a bid to ‘force parliament and the community to bend to its will’. Baldwin was in effect forcing the TUC to back down or rise up in rebellion. His arguments were repeatedly aired by the pro-government BBC and by the only national newspaper circulating in large numbers during the strike – the government’s own British Gazette. One of the ironies of the episode was that strike action deprived the workers of what could have been their most effective ally – the press. The TUC could not convincingly answer Baldwin’s accusations of lawlessness, and it lacked the stomach for revolution.