Who were the people in the ‘Labour isn't working' poster?
It’s probably the most famous British political poster of all time. But who formed the queue in the 'Labour isn't working' poster?
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Who were the people in the ‘Labour isn't working' poster?
by Lee David Evans
It’s probably the most famous British political poster of all time. For those on the right of politics, it’s come to define the chaos and the consequences of the Jim Callaghan-led government of the late 1970s. On the left, it’s a symbol of the problems that Margaret Thatcher promised to fix but made worse. No matter what your political persuasion, it’s iconic.
Of course, I’m talking about the ‘Labour isn’t working’ poster produced for the Conservatives by Saatchi & Saatchi in 1978.
The involvement of professional advertising agencies like Saatchi & Saatchi in politics was still in its infancy in the 1970s. A few companies had trodden the ground before, but without the savvy, consumer-minded approach of the Saatchi brothers. Out went long, boring addresses from politicians staring down the lens of a TV camera; in came engaging montages with compelling voice-overs - and snappy posters.
Saatchi & Saatchi’s efforts to shake up the party’s communications didn’t get off to the easiest of starts. Some in the agency disliked the idea of working for a political party, whilst some in the party worried about the costs of the ad men. But Tim Bell, an advertising executive who took to politics so well he became a Tory peer, found he could work well with Thatcher. In Mad Men & Bad Men, he is quoted describing how they established their advantage over Labour:
Firstly, Thatcher might not have been the best speaker in the world but she was miles better than Callaghan or anyone else they had. Secondly, the Tories had more money to spend than Labour and it's always nice to fight the enemy with a weapon they can't afford. Thirdly, she believed in the power of advertising. She knew we were professionals and put her faith in us. Meanwhile, Labour were still morally hostile to the very idea of using ads.
By the summer of 1978, the Tories’ ad agency was preparing for the upcoming general election, which many people thought would (and Labour supporters continue to believe should have) come in late 1978. One of their executives, Andrew Rutherford, proposed a series of posters critiquing the state of Britain under Labour. For each poster, the idea was much the same: a queue, a reference to a public service, and a promise that ‘Britain’s better off with the Conservatives.’ One would focus on unemployment, with a long line of people waiting to be seen at the unemployment office. But who, exactly, would form the queue?
To recruit the stars of the poster, a message went out to the Young Conservatives (YCs) in Hendon, north London. They were invited to come along for a ‘top secret’ task that would help the Conservative election cause. Their meeting point was a municipal car park near the Welsh Harp reservoir. For the poster to work - and the queue to look long enough to make its point - it was hoped that 100 people would come along, made up of local YCs and their parents. Fewer than 20 people answered the call.
The man behind the camera, Martyn Walsh, told the BBC that the shortage of volunteers cast the entire project in doubt. ‘At one point I thought briefly about calling it all off. But the deadline was very tight and it was a case of it's now or never - we've got to do it today.’ And so they laid out a rope, about the length of a 100 person queue, and photographed the same small group along the line. The photographs were then spliced together - undoubtedly a more difficult task in 1978 than today - to create the desired effect. Faces were blurred to keep up the ruse.
Nobody taking part in the photo shoot that day expected their lionised place in the campaign history books. Charles Saatchi himself was said to be sceptical of whether the poster would resonate with voters. And when she was first shown the poster, Thatcher was unimpressed. ‘No! You know perfectly well that you should never have the other side’s name in your own poster!’ she decried. The Saatchi & Saatchi executives set about persuading her that including Labour’s name - and using it as a pun for the labour force - added to the power of the poster. She relented. ‘I must admit there is something very compelling about the whole thing,’ she said.
Rutherford was always confident that the poster would cut through. He understood that the Tories didn’t need to engage in a specific or detailed debate about unemployment, they needed to create an impression of out-of-work Britain being led by an out-of-ideas government. ‘The floating voter isn’t sat down poring over the party manifesto,’ he reflected. ‘He’s making his mind up on the basis of broad impressions.’
In an age before the internet and its viral potential, getting the poster out and establishing that broad impression in floating voters’ minds was costly. The Tories spent around £50,000 on the poster campaign. But the very nature of the poster’s production helped them achieve a lot more bang for their buck. A rumour went around that the people in the poster were not genuinely unemployed, but actors. Denis Healey, the Labour Chancellor, went on the attack. He accused the Tories of being dishonest and ‘selling politics like soap powder.’ The spat made the poster headline news - and raised the salience of the attack on Labour. Bell estimated that the subsequent furore earned them around £5 million of free advertising. Labour, and Healey in particular, had given the Tories an enormous donation-in-kind.
The general election finally came in 1979 and the poster was adapted to say ‘Labour still isn’t working’. Its impact helped ensure that some of the most consequential job losses that year were on Labour’s own benches, as Thatcher’s Tories gained 62 seats to win an overall majority. She remained prime minister for eleven and a half years; the Conservatives stayed in office for eighteen. Lord Thorneycroft, the Tory chairman, credited the poster, with its dozen or so Young Conservatives, with beginning this remarkable run in office.
Whatever its impact may have been in 1979, no poster since has come close to rivalling its iconic status.
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