The trouble with the Labour Party leadership and the trade union

Hear, O listeners, the fiery words of Arthur Scargill, forged in the heat of Britain’s industrial struggle: “The trouble with the Labour Party leadership and the trade union leadership, they're quite willing to applaud millions on the streets of the Philippines or in Eastern Europe, without understanding the need to also produce millions of people on the streets of Britain.” In this lament there is no smallness, no half-measure; it is a cry against hypocrisy and complacency, a call to awaken the spirit of action in one’s own land, rather than celebrating it only in others.

The meaning of his words is clear: leaders often praise the courage of foreign peoples rising up against tyranny, injustice, or corruption, yet they shrink from summoning the same courage at home. It is easy to clap for the revolutions of others; it is harder to risk the wrath of one’s own system by stirring rebellion among one’s people. Scargill, who had long fought for miners and the working class, condemned this contradiction. For what good is admiration of distant struggles if one ignores the need for struggle where one stands?

Consider the uprisings in Eastern Europe during the late twentieth century, when millions filled the streets demanding freedom from oppressive regimes. Their unity shook empires, and their courage brought down walls. Leaders across the globe applauded. Yet Scargill asked: why should such admiration stop at borders? Why should British workers not also fill the streets to demand fairness, dignity, and justice from their own rulers? What he demanded was consistency—if justice is worth applauding abroad, it is worth fighting for at home.

History offers us many examples of this truth. Recall the French Revolution, when peasants and workers rose not by the encouragement of distant voices but by their own collective will. They did not wait for permission; they filled the squares, they stormed the Bastille, they reshaped their nation. The leaders of Britain at that time condemned them, while their own working class remained shackled in silence. Again and again, we see that the greatest transformations are not achieved by admiration of others, but by the courage to act within one’s own soil.

The deeper lesson of Scargill’s words is this: leadership that only praises others but refuses to mobilize its own people is hollow. It is like a general who praises courage in foreign armies but fears to command his own into battle. True leadership does not hide behind speeches or distant examples. It calls upon its people to rise, to sacrifice, to endure hardship for a greater cause. Scargill longed for leaders who would rally the masses of Britain as courageously as others had rallied their own nations.

O listener, take this teaching to heart: never be content to merely admire the struggles of others from afar. Their courage should not be entertainment for your applause, but fire to ignite your own. If injustice thrives in your midst, it is your duty to stand against it, just as others have stood in their lands. To cheer without acting is to be a spectator in history; to act is to become its maker.

Practical action lies before you: do not wait for permission to stand for justice in your workplace, your community, your nation. Organize, march, speak, resist. Take inspiration from the millions who have risen abroad, but let their example drive you to create millions in your own land. True solidarity is not passive—it is active, it is lived, it is costly.

Thus remember the words of Arthur Scargill: the applause for distant crowds means nothing if it does not echo into action at home. Let not your leaders stop at admiration; let them summon courage. Let not your people stop at sympathy; let them rise. For only then shall justice, born abroad, live also in your own streets.