GREAT BRITAIN: Defending the Pound

It was a little bit reminiscent of England's finest hour. When 50,000 London busmen went out on strike last week, some officials gloomily predicted utter chaos. Instead, London recaptured its blitz spirit. In crowded Tubes, people stepped on one another's toes with the utmost amiability. Car owners met all sorts of interesting people by picking up hitchhikers, and one bowlered businessman came to work each day by water-scootering happily down the Thames. Commented Pub Owner Ted Wright: "I feel healthier—less diesel fumes around." Trumpeted the Daily Mail proudly: LONDON CAN TAKE IT!

The walkout began when Frank Cousins, boss of the Transport and General Workers' Union, turned down the Industrial Court award of an 8½-shilling-a-week raise ($1.19) for 36,000 busmen of the inner city, and nothing for suburban drivers. Cousins was in no tactical position to strike, but felt bound to do so anyway. He accused Prime Minister Macmillan's government of wanting a "showdown with labor," and Laborites demanded in the House of Commons that the government intervene immediately to end the strike. "It is for myself," replied Labor Minister Iain Macleod icily, "to judge when I should." Opposition Leader Hugh Gaitskell scribbled out a censure motion on the spot. After a bitter debate, the censure was voted down, 320 to 253.

But the government had won only a round. There was still the possibility that Cousins' strike might make other unions follow suit. In Manchester 126,000 chemical workers, and in South Wales the Mineworkers' Union, were already making threats. So were the heads of Britain's three top railroad unions, who could really bring things to a standstill. To the government, worried by inflation, the basic issue was defense of the pound. Said Macmillan: "What is needed is a general acceptance of the fact that to pay ourselves more in wages or profits for the same amount of output gets nobody anywhere."