WEEK ONE

Monday

Leafleting a factory at the 2pm shift change. Workers seems pleased to see us, but we have not had much of a response yet. Wages are low and hours long, there are lots of things people want to change, but the workers I spoke to today are not yet convinced that they can do anything - and without them the union can do nothing. While politicos in the Labour party and even the unions tell us that people turned against the unions because we were powerful, and went too far, in the 1970s, the workers in this factory, and millions like them, often cite the lack of union power as their reason for not getting involved. Unions can't change anything. They've lost their clout. That's what they tell me.

On my way back from this rather depressing scene I spot a small factory nearby. I wander into the production area and ask a few questions. The wages are very low and the young worker I talk to seems keen. I give him some literature, find out the shift pattern, and leave before the boss finds me.

Tuesday

It's 6.30 am. I visit the factory to give out postcards with the local union's freepost address on it and basic arguments for joining a union. The shift change is at 7.30 so I've got time to sneak into the factory. I walk around the shopfloor and the canteen. There don't seem to be any managers around to stop me.

All the workers are Asian. None of then seem to speak English. I find one young bloke in the canteen, Mohammed, who speaks English. After reading the leaflet, he asks me what my organisation sells. It's a union, I reply. Mohammed looks at me and asks the same question again.

I ask him if he has ever heard of a trade union. He hasn't. I sit down and explain how he and his workmates could unite and change things. Mohammed is very keen. He gets £3 an hour, and that only since the minimum wage came in this June. Mohammed tells me that most people only speak Urdu. Asking him to pass the message on, I go outside to leaflet the shift change.

Back in the union office I ring some local contacts and arrange for a leaflet to be translated into Urdu. I might also be able to get an interpreter for a meeting.

Friday

Several freepost cards have turned up today from the factory. I ring those on night shift, but they don't speak English. I write to them promising to produce a leaflet in Urdu.

WEEK TWO

Wednesday

Leafleting again, but this time I've got a leaflet in English and Urdu. A few blokes come out to take a leaflet. Then at about 6.50am the whole night shift comes out. One guy who seems to be the ringleader communicates that they all want to join the union, but it's hopeless. I don't understand Urdu, and they don't understand English.

Mohammed comes to my rescue when he comes in early for the day shift. The night shift agree to come to a meeting tomorrow. With a few frantic phone calls, I book a room and organise two interpreters for tomorrow.

Thursday

I pick up the volunteer interpreters. I take them to the room and bring over the night shift. The ringleader, Shabaz, does most of the talking. He says they all want to join, and hands me ten completed application forms. Six months ago one of the men at the meeting was unfairly sacked. They had all complained, but the manager ignored them and threatened them all with the sack. In response they stopped work and formed a picket outside. The owner was pulled out of bed. Faced with a solid strike and no production, he reinstated the sacked worker.

These young Pakistani workers whose families rely on their money, and who would not find work anywhere else locally because they don't know English, know working class solidarity by heart. They can teach our unions a lot. I hope they will.

Friday

I pop in to the factory again. Mohammed welcomes me. We organise a meeting for the day shift. He shows me the disgusting state of the toilet. The floor is a puddle.

The manager spots me. After a bit of a argument I agree to meet the managing director. I ask him if I can come in to talk to people about the union. He says no - and tells me off for endangering the hygiene of his factory. I point out that his toilet stinks, and leave.

Before I get back to the union office, the managing director has rung to complain about me. We add it to the growing pile of complaints from bosses. I think back to my TUC training. Some of it was good, taking the best from the US and Australian unions' turn to organising. It was about giving power back to activists, and rebuilding the unions through winning new activists to organise and fight for their demands against the boss.

But "partnership" has remained the official ideology of the TUC. This "partnership" is a feeble cover for class treachery by the TUC leadership. As a theory for building the unions on the ground, it is utopian nonsense. It is only by rebuilding our class struggle roots that unions will grow in strength and size.