The Workings of Co-Operation a Comparative Study of Consumer Co-Operative Organisation in Britain and Sweden, 1860 to 1970

The workings of co-operation A comparative study of consumer co-operative organisation in Britain and Sweden, 1860 to 1970

Acta Wexionensia No 71/2005 Humaniora

The workings of co-operation A comparative study of consumer co-operative organisation in Britain and Sweden, 1860 to 1970

Katarina Friberg

Växjö University Press Abstract Friberg, Katarina (2005). The workings of co-operation. A comparative study of consumer co-operative organisation in Britain and Sweden, 1860 to 1970. Acta Wexionensia no. 71/2005. ISSN: 1404-4307, ISBN: 91-7636-470-4. Written in English.

This thesis explores the workings of co-operation. It proceeds by way of a two- case comparative study, where the units of comparison are local consumer co- operatives: the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd., situated in the north-east of England, and Konsumentföreningen Solidar in Malmö, in the south-west of Sweden. We get to follow the two societies through minutes from member meetings, and from several other data sources, from their dates of birth to 1970. This material is utilised for cross-case and within-case comparisons as we follow the interaction between the societies and their environments, between organisational structure and decision-making, and between different factions within the societies. The primary purpose is to charter, understand, and explain the complexities brought out by the empirical inquiry. But in doing so, we also discern more general underlying principles for variations in the workings of co-operation. While this makes the thesis into an exploratory endeavour, it also contains an attempt to map the historiography of co-operation in Britain and Sweden: themes and research questions are construed so as to make a contribution to both literatures. One such contribution is the description and analysis of two separate organisational logics, of their dynamics, conditions, effects, and development over time.

Keywords: consumer co-operation, organisational logic, consumer demand, comparative method, retail trade, legislation for co-operation, household economy.

The workings of co-operation.. A comparative study of consumer co- operative organisation in Britain and Sweden, 1860 to 1970. Thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosopy. Växjö University, Sweden 2005

Series editors: Tommy Book and Kerstin Brodén ISSN: 1404-4307 ISBN: 91-7636-470-4 Printed by: Intellecta Docusys, Göteborg 2005 Acknowledgements Every project has its history. Mine is no exception. This book is one of its tangible results, but it has also introduced me to people along the way. Through the project I have a lot of people to thank. First of all, I would like to thank the four people who have been most involved in the research and writing-process: my two supervisors Peter Aronsson and Bill Lancaster, my friend and colleague Na- tasha Vall, and my partner Ola Agevall. Without your help and enthusiasm I would never have completed this book. I started my undergraduate studies in Lund, and it was at the Department of History in Lund that I commenced my research studies. I would like to thank the staff at this department for all their help, and for making me feel welcome even after I had moved to another university. I would especially like to thank a number of people, whom I came to know when I was stationed in Lund, and who have contributed with their comments and encouragement: Lars I Andersson, Lars M Andersson, Torbjörn Andersson, Bengt Ankarloo, Lars Berggren, Mat- tias Cederholm, Lars Edgren, Solveig Fagerlund, Harald Gustafsson, Lars Hans- son, Roger Johansson, Marion Leffler, Agneta Ljung, Johan Lundin, Ingrid Mill- bourn, Fabian Persson, Kim Salomon, Henrik Sannerstedt, Malin Thor, Peter Ullgren, Eva Queckfeldt, Anna Wallette and Martin Wiklund. In 1997 Peter Billing, then working in the city archives of Malmö, got me interested in consumer co-operation and encouraged me to study Solidar. It was also Peter who introduced me to Bill Lancaster and Natasha Vall. Thank you for this, Peter. My work with the project brought me into contact with Konsumentföreningen Solidar and the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society. This was a step into a completely new world. And I have made many new friends in this world. In different ways, they have all contributed to this book. There are so many members and employees whom I have met – in Malmö, Newcastle, and Gateshead – and who have helped me along the way. My gratitude extends to everyone. But there are a few people who should receive particular mention. Thank you ever so much Eva-Britt Brunsmo, David Connolly, Ethel Dahlqvist, Sören Edlund, Brenda Hamilton, Lars Holmgren, Peggy Jones, Dan Jägerman, Birger Kallenberg, Jim Lamb, Eileen MacKinnon, Anita Nyholm, Birgitta Pers- son, Anita Rengland, Marianne Svensson, Nigel Todd, Margaret Tweedy, and Steven Warren. Additionally, I thank the board and management of each society for taking an interest in and supporting my project. I have also had the benefit of visiting KF’s Archives in Stockholm, the Na- tional Co-operative Archive in Manchester, and Co-operative College in Loughborough and Manchester. Here I received lots of help with finding and interpreting sources, and spent many lunches and coffee breaks discussing co- operation. Thank you: Michael Hagström, Sue Haines, Gillian Lonergan, Jenny de Villiers, Yvonne Wihnblad, Alan Wilkins and Mervyn Wilson. Moving to Växjö University in August 1999, I came to a new research environment and met several people who have engaged themselves in my project and

5 given me good advice. I would particularly like to thank: P-O Andersson, Börje Björkman, Marie Eriksson, Åsa Folkesson, Gunlög Fur, Malin Lennartsson, Allan Nilsson, Lars Olsson, Ulla Rosén, Tobias Stark and Kenneth Strömberg. I would also like to thank everyone present at my final seminar in November 2004 for giving me valuable comments on a first draft of the ‘more or less’ complete book. Lars Tomsmark has helped me with charts and calculations. Thank you, Lars! If there are any flaws left in the book, they are, needless to say, my fault. The same holds for Staffan Klintborg. Staffan has proof-read and corrected the whole book and deserves great thanks for his good co-operation and for his patience. Thank you, Kerstin Brodén, Börje Björkman and Thomas Josefson, who have assisted me with the lay-out and printing process, and Agneta Fridhammar and Romana Kettner for being very helpful in other practical matters. The whole staff at Växjö university library has earned a thank you for helping me out with difficult requests and for always being so cheerful. And then there are a number of scholars that I have met that I would like to thank for their support and encouragement: Sven Åke Böök, Elisabeth Elgan, Kajsa Ellergård, Hugo Kylebäck, Helena Shanahan, Johan Söderberg and Stephen Yeo. I have received financial support from Crafoordska stiftelsen, Stiftelsen Fil dr Uno Otterstedts fond, Stiftelsen för internationalisering av högre utbildning och forskning (STINT) and Vetenskapssocieteten i Lund. Konsumentföreningen So- lidar, and the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society, have both contributed to the project with office space and scholarships for travels. Solidar has also contributed with a sum towards the publication of the book. I thank all the financiers and, of course, the Department of Humanities in Växjö for making it possible to complete this project. Apart from the support from the academic and co-operative worlds, I have also received a lot of support and encouragement from friends and family. Thank you all friends, in particular: Stina Hedin, Sara Johannesson, Sofia Lindgren, Johanna Lundberg, Viktoria Polhav, Åsa Robertsson, Corinne Susanek, Malin Thor, Natasha Vall and Anna Wallette. Thank you to my large and loving family, including the Agevalls. To dad, I would like to say thank you for encouraging and sharing my interest in history. To my sister Eva and my brothers Lennart and Björn I would like to say thank you for being such supportive siblings. My mother Lena, brother Henrik and my grandfather Karl deserve very special thanks. Their courage, and their conviction that one should never give up, have always been a source of inspiration for me. They have also supported all the possible and (nearly) impossible projects which I have launched. For this, and for their loving support, no thanks are enough. I dedicate this book to Ola Agevall. His loving support, comments on the text, proof-reading and our many discussions turned the difficult and tiring process of completing the book into an inspiring work, thank you Ola.

6 Table of contents Acknowledgements...... 5 Table of contents...... 7 List of charts and tables ...... 9 Part 1. Introductory part...... 11 1. Introduction...... 11 2. The emergence of a research project...... 12 3. The literature on consumer co-operation with the focus on Britain and Sweden...... 18 3.1 Refining the research question ...... 23 3.1.1 Consolidation of co-operative business and consumer demand ...... 24 3.1.2 Co-operative democracy and participation...... 30 3.1.3 The contents and discontents of internal co-operative politics...... 38 4. Questions, Method and the Plan of the Book...... 58 4.1 Reflections on the process of casing...... 59 4.2 The Plan of the Book...... 62 4.3 Conceptual issues ...... 63 5. Meetings and minutes – possibilities and limitations in the source material .. 67 6. Britain and Sweden – with a focus on the development of legislation for co-operation...... 77 6.1 Newcastle and Malmö – from trading towns to industrial cities ...... 84 Part 2. Co-operative retail services and shopping at the Co-op...... 103 1. Co-operative retail services...... 104 1.1 Co-operative retail services in the retail context of Newcastle and Tyneside ...... 115 1.2 Co-operative retail services in the retail context of Malmö and the south-west corner of Skåne ...... 151 2. Shopping at the Co-op...... 173 2.1 Co-operative retail services from generation, branch and district perspectives ...... 175 2.2 Members’ rights and duties related to the practice of shopping at the Co-op...... 181 2.3 How co-operators in Newcastle and Malmö dealt with credit trade in practice ...... 192 Part 3. Meetings, minutes and co-operative forums...... 209 1. Going to the member meeting...... 209 1.1 Co-operatives for mechanics, railroad workers, bakers and husbands – the question of open membership policy...... 211 2. Member meetings and member influence before a routine was established . 219 3. Establishing a routine: the formal structure of the member meeting...... 233 3.1 What the rules tell us and what sources tell us about rules...... 233 3.2 Rules and standing orders – the Newcastle Society ...... 234 3.3 Rules and standing orders – Solidar ...... 253

7 4. Member meetings and member influence during the establishment of a routine ...... 266 4.1 Needing the consent of the member meeting – the Newcastle Society . 269 4.2 From conflict arena to advisory forum – member meetings in Solidar . 275 5. The Co-operative forums in Newcastle and Malmö...... 280 5.1 Co-operative forums in Newcastle ...... 281 5.2 Co-operative forums in Malmö ...... 295 Part 4. Economic participation, internal co-operative politics and consumer demand ...... 315 1. Building up and distributing co-operative resources...... 315 1.1 Members’ economic participation – raising co-operative capital...... 317 1.1.1 Forms of capital – the Newcastle Society and Solidar ...... 324 2. The contents and discontents of co-operative politics – how to use co-operative financial resources...... 340 2.1 Funds and schemes for the use of the member households ...... 341 2.1.1 Financing co-operative education and politics ...... 357 2.2 Co-operative funds and resources used for activities outside the co-operative organisations...... 378 3. Members’ demands on the co-operative services – channelling consumer demand ...... 391 3.1 Complaints and suggestions for the selection of goods and services .... 403 3.2 The expansion of store structure and the modernisation of stores...... 426 3.3 Members’ opinions on dividend and price policy ...... 438 Part 5. The workings of co-operation...... 467 1. Consumer co-operation in Britain and Sweden – results of a comparative study...... 470 1.1 Explaining differences in the development of consumer co-operation in Newcastle and Malmö...... 470 1.2 The workings of co-operation – analytical reflections ...... 484 2. Coda...... 488 Appendix...... 489 Bibliography ...... 493

8 List of charts and tables Chart 1. Service development: The Newcastle Society 1860-1968 ...... 121 Chart 2. Number of branches (locations of stores): The Newcastle Society 1860-1951 ...... 127 Chart 3. Store development: The Newcastle Society 1860-1968...... 144 Chart 4. Service development: Solidar 1907-1986 ...... 160 Chart 5. Store development: Solidar 1907-1986...... 170 Chart 6. Members' debts: The Newcastle Society 1895-1969...... 198 Chart 7. Share, loan and reserves: The Newcastle Society 1872-1969 ...... 328 Chart 8. Share, loan and reserves: Solidar 1908-1980 ...... 332 Chart 9. Turnover: The newcastle Society 1872-1968...... 396 Chart 10. Members: The Newcastle Society 1872-1968...... 396 Chart 11. Turnover: Solidar 1908-1970 ...... 399 Chart 12. Members: Solidar 1908-1970...... 400 Chart 13. Appendix 1 Charitable purpose and education: The Newcastle Society 1883-1968 ...... 489

Table 1. Overview of the minutes from member meetings, dates, archives and other comments ...... 68 Table 2. Classes and Lecture Courses March 1951 to March 1952 ...... 294 Table 3. Application of surplus – sums left to the Annual Meeting to dispose of, Solidar 1913-1952...... 386 Table 4. Appendix 2. Showing charitable disbursements from Report and Statements of Accounts for year ending 1st September 1962...... 489 Table 5. Appendix 3. Showing sums applied to the Education Fund and other purposes, Solidar 1912-1945 ...... 490

Part 1. Introductory part

1. Introduction In March and April 1979, the nearly 155,000 members of Konsumentföreningen Solidar could, if they wanted to, go to the district member meeting of their society and discuss the propositions for the annual society meeting in May. There were plenty of things to discuss, 14 propositions had been sent in. These motions covered a wide range of themes, but underneath the diversity there is a certain unity. They all reflect the members' demands on trading practice, the selection of products, democratic practice, and the means of raising co-operative capital. There were propositions to boycott South African products, to stop playing music in the department stores, and to refrain from marketing special offers in conspicuous ways. Others proposed that Solidar's stores should give pride of place to books from KF's own publishing company, that the annual reports should be given better exposure, that Solidar's contributions to relief organisations should be presented in the annual report, and that the society should work for better tax conditions for co-operative societies. There were also propositions to introduce discounts on purchases and contributions to activities for senior citizens, to abolish special offers on beer, to ensure that member offers would not be given as coupons, and to stop the sale of men’s magazines. The latter demand had engaged 21 members to write motions, men as well as women.1 What kind of business was this, where members could send in their demands as motions to an annual society meeting? The range of demands above tells us something about the expectations that these members had on their consumer co- operative society. Apparently the members who took up their pens and wrote the motions had ideas about what Solidar should sell and how they should sell it. The members of Solidar in 1979 were not alone in using voice to make their demands heard. Here is another example of members mediating their demands, taken from a quarterly general meeting in the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited in July in 1954: A member deplored the closing of Stephenson Road Drug Department and under the circumstances wondered if this shop could be utilised to ex- ––––––––– 1 Konsum äger vi tillsammansVerksamheten-79 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, pp. 16-19.

11 tend the confectionary shop at Benton Road which was very cramped. Mr. Harper referred to a statement made that the Society was to stock C.W.S Margarines only and was disturbed to note that we were now selling Ko- sher Margarine. Another member referred to the shortage of Gold Seal Margarine. Mr. Graham congratulated the Society on the production of wholemeal bread which in the past had been in short supply in the City and appealed for more publicity of this commodity. He also referred to T.T. Milk which was pasteurised and which he claimed destroyed certain of the ingredients.2 The study presented in this book is a cross-national comparative study where the interface between members and their consumer co-operative societies is in focus. The two case studies are the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited in Newcastle upon Tyne3 in the North East of England and Kooperativa Förenin- gen Solidar in Malmö in the south-west of Sweden. The period examined stretches from 1860 to 1970. Besides being a study that attempts to answer the question of what kind of business these societies were, it is also a history of co- operative consumption, organisation, and membership. A history that illustrates one way in which people in 19th- and 20th-century Britain and Sweden or, to be more precise, Newcastle and Malmö, could and did exert an influence on their role as consumers. The introductory part of this book is divided into two halves. In the first section the problems examined in the study are narrowed down. This is done by way of presenting how the subject was approached and by comparing the central themes in the British and Swedish secondary literatures on the subject of consumer co-operation. The comparative perspective is constantly present in the chapters of this first part, but in Chapter 4 the methodological implications of the process of casing in comparative studies are addressed. Then the structure of the book and the source material used are discussed. In the second half of the introduction an outline of the development of legislations relating to co-operative ventures in Britain and Sweden is presented. This first part of the book ends with a comparative account of developments in 19th- and 20th-century Newcastle and Malmö that provide the context within which consumer co-operation developed and set the scene for the history told in the following four parts.

2. The emergence of a research project Let me first strike a somewhat personal note, and give a brief account of how this book emerged. To be sure, the details of my own journey are of no interest to the reader, but the general direction and concrete arguments of the book bear traces of its origins, and it is therefore instructive to review the context in which ––––––––– 2 Minutes 373rd Quarterly General Meeting, 28th July 1954. 3 From now on Newcastle upon Tyne is simply mentioned as Newcastle and The Mechanics’ Indus- trial Co-operative Society/The Newcastle Co-operative Society Limited is generally referred to as the Newcastle Society.

12 it arose. In addition, I believe that some of the problems and prospects that I have come up against are generalisable to a much wider set of enquiries. To be more precise, this research project has grown out of, and been shaped by, two different contexts. The first context goes back to my student years. I had decided to write my master’s thesis about consumer co-operation in Malmö, and the aim was to inquire whether ideas about 'rational consumption' were incorporated in the educational practices of a local consumer co-operative society. That central question was derived from Peder Aléx's study of the educational aims of Kooperativa förbundet (The Swedish Co-operative Union). Aléx had found that, in the period from 1899 to 1939, the union had had far-reaching ambitions to educate what he calls ‘rational consumers’. He points out that he is only concerned with the visions and actions of the union, not with the fate of these initiatives as they were passed down to individual consumer co-operative societies. There may well be variations in the local reception of the union's initiatives, and these variations, he suggests, might depend on what sort of people had founded the local society in question. Yet, he thinks that some societies did try to live up to the high ambitions that co-operators working for the union had regarding co- operative education.4 My own inquiry was designed to take up where Aléx left off, i.e. to study the educational activities of a local society, Kooperativa Fören- ingen Solidar in Malmö, and to determine whether this particular society had had the aim to live up to the educational ambitions of the union. While this book is not primarily about co-operative education, the experiences from my master’s thesis turned out to be decisive in other respects. Apart from acquainting me with the Swedish research literature on consumer co-operation, and with the Solidar organisation, it also confronted me with a series of questions. Solidar's educational program indicated that the board and other officials in leading positions thought that co-operative education was an important part of the activities of a consumer co-operative society. From the early 1920s onwards, Solidar financed and arranged an ambitions educational program. The contents of the program were partly in accordance with union ambitions, but it also included courses on local topics, as well as outings and social events which were not necessarily in line with the union ideal.5 In a sense, this would appear to settle the question of reception. But a few nagging questions remained. What did the members of Solidar think? What impact did the education really have on members, and to what extent did it feed back into discussions at member meetings? These questions were left unexplored in the master’s thesis – partly due to a lack of source materials, partly because I only conceived of them as the study drew to a close – but they no doubt appeared ––––––––– 4 Aléx Peder, Den rationella konsumenten. KF som folkuppfostrare 1899-1939, (1994), Symposion, Stocholm/Stehag, p. 12. See also Aléx Peder, “Swedish Consumer Co-operation as an Educational Endeavour”, in Consumers against Capitalism? Consumer Cooperation in Europe, North America, and Japan, 1840-1990, (1999), Eds. Furlough Ellen and Strikwerda Carl, Rowman & Littlefield Publishers Inc., Lanham, Boulder, New York, Oxford. 5 Friberg Katarina, Rationella konsumenter i Malmö, Konsumtionshistorisk studie av Kooperativa föreningen Solidar 1907-1950, (1998), magisteruppsats, Historiska institutionen, Lunds universitet, unpublished.

13 to be crucial. They pointed to the importance of the interface between the organisation and its body of members, not only for the fate of particular education efforts but for the workings of a consumer co-operative society at large. The task of investigating this interface, on the other hand, clearly implies conducting in- depth studies of local organisations. After I concluded my master’s thesis, I recovered more materials of exactly this kind – minutes from member meetings, more records from the propaganda committee, etc. – and I could finally engage in a fullblown study of what went on between Solidar and its members. These minutes are now part of the material that I draw on in this book. It is the task of sifting through minutes in order to uncover how members become involved with, interact with, are affected by and affect their local societies. There is, however, a second context that has significantly shaped the research behind this book. I became involved with a group of researchers, led by Profes- sor Bill Lancaster at Northumbria University. Lancaster planned to launch a series of studies, all designed to compare Post-War Malmö with Newcastle in a number of issues, e.g. the decline of the industrial economy, consumer co- operation, social housing, and church/religion.6 My part of the project would be to study consumer co-operation, and to compare the fate of Solidar in Malmö with that of the Newcastle Society. This is the project I embarked upon. It also endowed me with a provisory research question: How did the two strong consumer co-operative societies in Newcastle and Malmö manage the changes in consumption patterns, and in the retail sector, that occurred during the Post-War period? The first step, then, would be to learn more about consumer co-operation in Sweden and, particularly, in Britain. This task had several components. First, I wanted to trace the debates, hopes and worries within the respective organisations. Second, I needed to acquaint myself with the research literature on consumer co-operation in the two countries, so as to be able to formulate more refined research questions. Finally, I had to get a good grasp of the necessary – and hopefully available – empirical materials that would allow me to address these refined questions. I soon realised that I was working in the wake of a comprehensive and extended debate about the state of consumer co-operation in both countries. In Britain, this debate had started within the consumer co-operative organisation in the 1950s.7 The Co-operative Independent Commission Report of 1958, while applauding the great success of co-operation in Britain, pointed out areas where the Co-op was less successful. In addition, it argued that the co-operative business had to develop new strategies if it was to uphold its position, remain successful, and expand in those areas where it had done well so far. The main worry of the 1950s, then, was how to secure continued expansion. While the members ––––––––– 6 So far, and apart from this book, one of these studies has been completed. See: Vall Natasha, Explo- rations in Comparative History: Economy and Society in Malmo and Newcastle since 1945, (2000), PhD dissertation Northumbria University, Newcastle, unpublished. 7 Ostergaard G. N. and Halsey A. H., Power in Co-operatives: A Study of the Internal Politics of Brit- ish Retail Societies, (1965), Basil Blackwell, Oxford, p. xi.

14 of the commission agreed on this description, they had different views of how to achieve the goal, and one member wrote his own report, the so-called "Minority Report". We shall not go into detail about the two different reports of the commission. It suffices to say that they both recommended an integration of the different federal co-operative societies, but that they differed in their views of the means, and the extent, of the integration.8 Twenty years later, business prospects were still at the heart of the debate, but the focus this time was on preventing decline rather than on promoting expansion. Societies in the North East of England turned to scholars at Durham Uni- versity to work out an emergency plan for how to handle the drastic fall in co- operative trade in the area.9 The solution chosen by the North East co-operatives – and, soon to follow, by societies in other parts of the country – was far- reaching amalgamations, resulting in regional co-operative societies comprising larger geographical areas. This was clearly shock therapy. Shopping members saw many of their stores close down, and a survey among elected members shows that opinions were divided as to what the change implied for democratic control and other co-operative principles. Some saw it as a revival of co- operation, others as a loss of independent democratic control.10 These two strands of opinion have continued to structure the debate, and a peak was reached in 1997, when an attempt was made to take over the Co-operative Wholesale So- ciety (the CWS) and turn it into a joint-stock company.11 The coup sparked off a debate about the difference between co-operative and private companies, and the result was the launch of a comprehensive education program, where members and employees learned about and discussed the co-operative values and principles. The ongoing discussion about and the revision of co-operative values and principles of the The International Co-operative Alliance (ICA) were taken up in the debate in Britain and in the educational programs.12 My first visit to Britain roughly coincided with this latter debate. Among the people I met, interviewed, and talked to, some were optimists and others were more pessimistically inclined. Some believed that the Co-op was something other than an ordinary store, and that it could still make a difference, whereas others were convinced that things were going downhill for consumer co- operation. History played a part in both representations. The optimists were inspired by successes in the past, and felt that these could be extended to the future. The pessimists, on the other hand, compared the present condition with that

––––––––– 8 Co-operative Independent Commission Report, (1958), Co-operative Union Ltd, Manchester. 9 The Durham Survey (1969), unpublished report. 10 Mellor Mary, Motivation, Recruitment and Ideology: A Study of the Co-operative Movement in North-East England, (1980), dissertation submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy at the University of Newcastle upon Tyne, unpublished, pp. 291-337. 11 Melmoth G. J.,“The Lanica Affair – A perspective from the CWS”. Brichall Johnston, “An At- tempted Take over of a Consumer Co-operative Society”. Both articles in Journal of Co-operative Studies Vol 31:2 (No. 93) September 1998. 12 See Improving the Business for Tomorrow, CWS Co-operative Values, Principles & Future, Co- operative College. See in particular “Session Four Our Distinctive Co-operative Values”, pp. 35-41.

15 of the past – as described in history books or as it appeared in their own recollec- tions – and the present always fell short. Sweden, too, has had its debates about the state of consumer co-operation. Co- operators in Sweden were also worried about how the co-operative businesses should handle changes in the retail market, and after the end of the Second World War, such changes became increasingly apparent. Yet, their method of addressing these issues differed from that employed in Britain. Instead of appointing an independent commission, KF made an internal inquiry. The Dyna- misk struktur report, presented in 1960, suggested a concentration effort, amounting to a decrease in the number of co-operative societies from 600 to 100. The reactions to this report revealed a deep, emerging rift between the leaders at KF in Stockholm, on the one hand, and the board members of small societies in the countryside on the other. An oppositional group of small societies was formed in 1964. The group protested against KF's unfair treatment of smaller societies, and it wanted to demonstrate that, in itself, concentration would not lead to reduced costs and increased efficiency.13 The policy promoted by the leaders of KF was one of radical integration: all independent co-operative societies, and KF, should amalgamate to form a Kon- sum Sverige (Co-op Sweden). They did not get their way, but neither did their critics in the smaller societies. Many of the small countryside societies eventually found that they were forced to choose between going into liquidation and agreeing to amalgamation.14 In sum, then, the re-structuring of co-operative societies did not go as smoothly as the leading stratum had wished, but the modernisation of the store structure nevertheless led to dramatic changes for co-operative members. In the course of this development, the opposing standpoints crystallized further. As with so many other conflicts in Sweden during this period, the dividing line was drawn up between city and countryside.15 Towards the end of the 1960s, and the beginning of the 1970s, KF and the co- operative societies became the target of severe criticism, launched from outside the organisation. Some public intellectuals and journalists claimed that Swedish consumer co-operation was run from the top, and that it was no longer a popular movement but a business.16 The same theme soon became a topic within the Co- operative movement as well, and the 1970s and 1980s brought both a search for a functioning democratic structure, and a debate about the ends and means of consumer co-operation in Sweden. Now the movement also turned to academics

––––––––– 13 Hwang Sun-Joon, Folkrörelse eller affärsföretag. Den svenska konsumentkooperationen 1945- 1990, (1995), Stockholm Studies in Politics 53, pp. 36-41. 14 Hwang, (1995), pp. 36-41. 15 Andersson Sven O. and Undén Göran , Bygga upp och lägga ner: ett reportage om en kooperativ förening, (1965), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm. 16 Backman Lars-Erik, Direktörskonsum: En bok om kooperationens svikna ideal, (1973), Prisma, Stockholm. "Expressendebatten: Var finns de äkta folkrörelserna?" Kooperativ Information, nr 2, 1975. "Folkrörelsedebatten –75", Kooperativ Information, nr 5, 1975.

16 for suggestion to solutions.17 Eventually, however, this discussion petered out. In comparison with Britain, it is rather quiet within the Swedish Co-operative movement today although there have been protests against how the amalgamation of the co-operative wholesales in Sweden, Denmark and Norway have been handled and against unreasonable wages and severance payments to KF chief executives.18 The outline above gives the contours of the Post-War developments in British and Swedish consumer co-operation. It tells us something about what people in these movements have worried about, hoped for, and debated. There are notable commonalities between the two countries. In both cases, there is a conscious effort to remain competitive in business terms. The response, whether suggested by external or internal inquiries, is sought in the economies of scale, which in turn provoke discussions about fairness and democratic principles. To be sure, there are also differences between the two countries in terms of how the debates unfolded, which themes were emphasised, and what broader cultural and political contexts are mobilised in their articulation. This is not the place for a detailed discussion of these discursive differences, but the mere fact that they are there raises some serious questions. To what extent do these differences mirror different ways of organising consumer co-operation in Britain and Sweden, and to what extent are they the expressions of different ways of discussing organisational matters? Questions of this order are important, for rather than being limited to internal co-operative cultures, they reappear in the scholarly literature on co-operation. This brings us to the second point announced above, i.e. the British and Swedish research literature in the field of consumer co-operation. Since the substance of these two bodies of literature is consequential for how I frame my own research questions, I have reserved the next chapter for a more thorough discussion of it. Before we get there, however, it is useful to briefly reflect upon one of the challenges involved in addressing, and coping with, two different national research frontiers. When I decided to enlarge my inquiry of consumer co-operation in Malmö, by adding Newcastle as my second case, the single-case study turned into a comparative project. This introduced new possibilities, but also a set of difficulties – many of which I was unaware of at the time I entered the project. Strictly methodological challenges will be dealt with elsewhere in this part. Here, the focus will be on the implications of comparative work for how to deal with the secondary literature. ––––––––– 17 Konsumentägt, Förslag till konsumentkooperationens handlingsprogram, 1974. Konsumentägt, Konsumentkooperationens handlingsprogram: Styrelsens yttrande och förslag, 1976. Ej tjäna på andra men tjäna varandra, Remissunderlag från handlingsprogramkommittén, 1988. Tjäna varandra i samverkan, Konsumentkooperationens handlingsprogram, 1989, unpublished. Jonnergård Karin, Lagnevik Claes-Magnus, Svensson Claes and Wijk F. Gösta, Beslut i kooperation, (1984), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm, p. 9-19. See also SOU 1981:60 Kooperationen i Samhället. Huvud- betänkande av Kooperationsutredningen, (1981), Stockholm. 18 “Coops toppchefer lyfte 50 miljoner”, Dagens Nyheter 25/9 2004. “KF:s ledning har rivit ned det kooperatörer byggde upp”, Dagens Nyheter 6/10 2004.

17 Silke Neunsinger once coined the term "anthology comparisons" to refer to research collaborations around a particular topic, where scholars contribute with a chapter about their own country, and where the comparison ends up in the introduction or in a concluding chapter.19 We can learn a great deal about differences and similarities between cases from anthologies of this kind, but they are not comparative in the strict sense. They end where a comparative study starts. One aspect of this is that the state of the art research that informs each chapter, and which each author brings to the anthology, will typically be formed by national historiographic traditions. The differences that emerge from the comparison, then, may reflect nationally conditioned differences of emphasis and interest, rather than being genuine substantial differences. This, as John Breuilly has pointed out, is important to avoid, and in order to do so, the comparativist should begin by meticulously chartering the secondary literature in each country studied.20 Breuilly and other historians with experience of cross-national comparative work thus recommend that a comparison of historiographies precede all historical comparisons.21 But if this is the case, doing comparative work entails bringing together different historiographical strands. This task is not additive. It is not just a matter of producing separate accounts of two different bodies of literature, for the comparativist must also take their internal relation into account. How, then, can we characterise the respective research traditions in Britain and Sweden when it comes to the history of consumer co-operation? This issue will be dealt with in the next chapter, and the account there will provide material for revising and refining the research questions that guide the remainder of the book.

3. The literature on consumer co-operation with the focus on Britain and Sweden The literature on co-operation, and consumer co-operation, is richer in Britain than in Sweden. In both countries, however, the number of studies, at least those with a historic perspective, is limited. A brief glance at the secondary literature ––––––––– 19 Neunsinger Silke, “Om nyttan av att jämföra äpplen och päron. Några reflektioner kring möjlighe- terna av en komparation mellan Tyskland och Sverige under mellankrigstiden”, in Køn, religion og kvinder i bevægelse, (1999), Roskilde, p. 371. 20 Breuilly John, Labour and Liberalism in Nineteenth-Century Europe: Essays in Comparative His- tory, (1992), Manchester University Press, Manchester, pp. 1-2. Breuilly’s concern with going behind concepts and terms and be aware of the national historiographies is suggestive of Marc Bloch’s call on historians doing comparative work to observe that phenomena called different things need not necessarily be different in kind. It was this observation that made Bloch “discover” that also France had its enclosure movement. Bloch Marc, “Toward a comparative history of Euro- pean societies”, in Enterprise and Secular Change: Readings in Economic History, Ed. Lane C. Frederic and Riemersma C. Jelle, (1953), George Allen and Unwin Ltd., London. 21 Breuilly, (1992), chapter 1 “Introduction: making comparisons in history”, pp. 2-7. Berger Stefan, ”Comparative history”, in Writing History: Theory & Practice, (2003), Eds. Berger Stefan, Feldner Heiko and Passmore Kevin, Arnold, London, p. 166.

18 on co-operation, and on consumer co-operation in particular, reveals certain differences of emphasis. Britain differs from Sweden in terms of which time periods are studied, which perspectives are employed, and which themes are singled out as important. British scholars, many of them historians, have focused on the establishment of co-operative societies and their expansion. This means that co-operative activities in the 19th and early 20th centuries have been deeply explored in Britain, but few scholars have studied what happened after 1945. Among the themes and subjects explored we find co-operative culture and co-operative politics, as well as the development of a co-operative youth movement and the Women’s Co- operative Guild (WCG).22 Some British historians have tried to pin down the fac- ––––––––– 22 See Carr-Saunders A. M., Sargant Florence P., Peers Robert, Consumers’ Co-operation in Great Britain, (1938), George Allen & Unwin Ltd, London. Cole G. D. H., A Century of Co-operation, (1947), George Allen & Unwin Ltd, London. Darvill Peter A., The Contribution of Co-operative Retail Societies to the Welfare within the Social Framework of the North-east Coast Area, (1954), Thesis submitted for the Degree of Master of Letters, King’s College University of Durham, unpublihsed. Pollard Sidney, “Nineteenth century co-operation: From community building to shop- keeping”, in Essays in Labour History, (1960), Eds. Briggs Asa and Saville John, Macmillan, Lon- don. Bonner Arnold, British Co-operation, (1970[1961]), Co-operative Union, Manchester. Gaffin Jean and Thoms David, Caring & Sharing. The Centenary History of the Co-operative Women’s Guild, (1993 [1983]), Holyoake Books, Manchester. Butler John H., The Origins and Development of the Retail Co-operative Movement in Yorkshire during the Nineteenth Century, D. Phil 1986. Lancaster Bill, Radicalism, Cooperation and Socialism. Leicester Working-class Politics 1860- 1906, (1987), Leicester University Press. Purvis Martin, Nineteenth Century Co-operative Retailing in England and Wales: A Geographical Approach, (1987), PhD-thesis, St. John’s College, Oxford, unpublished. Walton John K., Lancashire: a social history 1558-1939, (1987), Manchester Univer- sity Press, Manchester. Birchall Johnston, Co-op: the People’s Business, (1994), Manchester Uni- versity Press, Manchester and New York. Gurney Peter, “The middle-class embrace: language, representation, and the contest over co-operative forms in Britain, c. 1860-1914”, in Victorian Studies, 37 (1994). Kelly Victoria, The Equitable Consumer. Shopping at the Co-op in Manchester 1885- 1914, (1995), V&A/RCA History of Design MA Dissertation, unpublished. Gurney Peter, Co- operative Culture and the Politics of Consumption in England 18701930, (1996), Manchester Uni- versity Press, Manchester and New York. Southern Jayne Brenda, The Co-operative Movement in the North West of England, 1919-1939: Images and Realities, (1996), a thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, Lancaster University, unpublished. Everitt Jean, Co-operative Society Libraries and Newsrooms of Lancashire and Yorkshire from 1844 to 1918, (1997), Thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor in Philosophy, Department of information and Library Studies University of Wales, Aberystwyth, unpublished. Royle Edward, Robert Owen and the Commencement of the Millennium. A Study of the Harmony Community, (1998), Manchester University Press, Manchester. Todd Selina, The Co-operative Youth Movement Between the Wars. A study of the Co-operative Comrades’ Circles, (1998), A dissertation submitted for the degree of Master of Arts in Contemporary History at the University of Sussex, unpublished. Hilson Mary, Working-Class Politics in Plymouth, c. 1890-1920, (1998), PhD, University of Exeter, unpublished. Scott Gillian, Feminism and the Politics of Working Women. The Women’s Co-operative Guild, 1880s to the Second World War, (1998), UCL Press, London. Purvis Martin, “Societies of consumers and consumer societies: co-operation, consumption and politics in Britain and continental Europe c. 1850-1920, in Journal of Historical Geography, 24, 2 (1998). Purvis Martin, “Stocking the Store: Co-operative Retailers in North East England and Systems of Wholesale Supply, circa 1860-77”, in Alexander Nicholas and Akehurst Gary, The Emergence of Modern Retailing, 1750- 1950, (1999), Frank Cass, London, Portland. Blaszak Barbara J., The Matriarchs of England’s Co- operative Movement. A Study in Gender Politics and Female Leadership, 1883-1921, (2000),

19 tors that made the Co-operative movement into the social force that it became in the 19th century. These same scholars have also tried to establish the links between the Co-operative movement and other social movements, and to determine who the advocators of co-operation were.23 Social scientists have also contributed to the literature. Their studies focus on the development of co-operative democracy and co-operative management, but typically lack a longer historic perspective.24 Another characteristic aspect of the British literature is that local and national perspectives on the development of co-operation are mixed in the British research. We thus get a fairly good picture of the early development of consumer co-operative societies, and of the federal co-operative organisations, as well as of the local and regional conditions for co-operative ventures. In Sweden, on the other hand, historians are in a minority among the group of scholars who have studied consumer co-operation. The emphasis in the literature is on the restructuring of consumer co-operative organisations after the First and Second World Wars, and on Kooperativa Förbundet (the Swedish Co-operative union and wholesale) in particular. With the exception of a few studies, the main themes treated in the Swedish literature are the organisation and efficiency of the business organisation, and the structure of the democratic decision-making process.25 Other themes are the relation between trade unions and co-operatives, women’s role as consumers and co-operators, the ideals of consumption and consumers, and co-operative education.26

Greenwood Press, London. Davis Mary, Fashioning a New World. A History of the Woodcraft Folk, (2000), Holyoake Books, Manchester. Hilson Mary, “Consumers and Politics: The Co- operative Movement in Plymouth, 1890-1920”, in Labour History Review, Vol. 67, No 1, April 2002. See also the contributions to the anthologies: New Views of Co-operation, (1988), Ed. Yeo Stephen, Routledge, London. Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth: 150 Years of Co- operation. Essays in the History of Co-operation, (1996), Eds. Lancaster Bill and Maguire Paddy, Co-operative College and the History Workshop Trust, Manchester. 23 Cole, (1947). Lancaster, (1987). Purvis, (1987). Walton, (1987), Royle, (1998), Hilson, (1998). See also several of the contributions to New Views of Co-operation, (1988) and Towards the Co- operative Commonwealth, (1996). 24 Ostergaard G. N. and Halsey A. H., Power in Co-operatives. A Study of the Internal Politics of Bri- tish Retail Societies, (1965), Basil Blackwell, Oxford. Stephenson T. E., Management in Co- operative Societies, (1963), Hienemann, London. Mellor Mary, (1980). Davis Peter and Donaldson John, Co-operative Management. A Philosophy for Business, (1998), New Harmony Press, Chel- tenham. See also Hornsby M. T., Co-operation in Crisis: Challenges and Response in the Co- operative Retail Movement in England from the Late Nineteenth Century to the Mid Twentieth Cen- tury, (1989), MPhil thesis, University of York, unpublished. 25 Ruin Olof, Kooperativa Förbundet 1899-1929. En organisations studie, (1960), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm. Holm Olof, Kooperation i ofärd och välfärd. Studier rörande svensk konsumentkooperation som part på marknaden i historiskt och pedagogiskt perspektiv, (1984), Pedagogiska institutionen, Stockholms universitet. Kylebäck Hugo, Konsumentkooperation i strukturomvandling. Del 1 1946-1960, (1983), Kungälv.Kylebäck Hugo, Konsumentkooperation i strukturomvandling. Del 2 1960-1985, (1989), Kungälv. Kylebäck Hugo, Federation eller Konsum Sverige? Konsumentkoo- perativ förändringsprocess. Del 3 1985-1995, (1999) Rapport från Ekonomisk-historiska institutionen vid Göteborgs University, Göteborg. Hwang, (1995). 26 Kylebäck Hugo, Den svenska konsumentkooperationen relationer till den politiska och fackliga arbetarrörelsen fram till margarinstridsåren, (1968), uppsats för proseminareiet i historia, ekonomisk-historisk linjen, Göteborgs universitet, unpublished. Millbourn Ingrid, ”Kooperation och kar-

20 Were we to base our comparative conclusions exclusively on the secondary literature, we would get very different pictures of the development of consumer co-operation in Sweden and Britain. Britain comes out as a decentralised consumer co-operative movement, with considerable regional and local variations, reaching its peak at the turn of the century and in the Inter-War period. Sweden, in contrast, would appear to harbour a centralised – and, by implication, fairly homogeneous – modernised, and successful consumer co-operative movement from the Inter-War period up until the 1970s. And whereas British co-operators seem to have socialised in guilds, circles, clubs etc., their Swedish counterparts were busy being educated and drowned in propaganda and information about how to be rational consumers. To what extent, and in which respects, is this compound picture adequate? To what extent does it reflect real and significant differences of consumer co- operation in the two countries? Surely, there is a kernel of truth to it. For example, there is a real difference between the two countries in terms of how the federal societies developed, and we get a correct portrayal of the timing of major changes in the retail structure in each country. Nevertheless, I would like to argue that some of the differences that emerge from the two secondary literatures are also a reflection of differences in research traditions. In general, Swedish scholars who have taken an interest in co-operation have not studied local and regional differences, and they have not considered the period before 1899, when KF was formed. There are some Swedish studies of the period prior to 1945, but they are restricted in scope: they generally do not deal with the local and regional conditions of consumer co-operation. This lack of information should not be taken as an indicator of a low degree of local variation. In fact, the few pieces of information we have on this issue – from student essays, non-academic local history, etc. – indicate that we would probably find as much local and regional variations of co-operative ventures in Sweden as in Britain.27 This, however, remains to be shown.

teller”, in Vår tids historia i ord och bild, (1975), Ed Ankarloo Bengt, Bokfrämjandet, Helsingborg. Millbourn Ingrid, ”Kooperationen – kvinnan med korgen”, in Ord&Bild, 1976:2. Millbourn Ingrid, ”Kreditkonst – Kooperativa Förbundet och kvinnan 1900-1940”, in Kvinnovetenskaplig Tidskrift, 1982/4. Millbourn Ingrid, Kooperatismen – ett alternativ till kapitalism och socialdemokrati”, in Scandia, 1991:1. Aléx, (1994). Aléx, (1999) in Consumers against Capitalism?. Aléx Peder, “100 år av kvalitet, stil och (av)smak: KF och konsumentupplysningen, (1999) in Mellan stat & marknad – ett sekel av kooperation, Eds. Aléx Peder, Ottoson Jan, Wikström Berith, Kooperativ Årsbok 1999. See also several of the contribution to Kooperativ Årsbok (Co-operative Yearbook). Many of the articles in this yearbook reveal interesting aspects of the history of co-operation in Sweden but few of these articles fall back on comprehensive studies with a historic perspective but there are exceptions. Besides the articles already mentioned in this footnote see also: Johansson Tore, “Samhäl- lets spelregler i förändring – kooperativ lagstiftning”, in Mellan stat & marknad – ett sekel av kooperation, Eds. Aléx Peder, Ottoson Jan, Wikström Berith, Kooperativ Årsbok 1999. Trägårdh Lars, “Utopin och den sociala ekonomin”, in Om kooperation & social ekonomi. Röster i ett nordiskt samtal, Eds. Wijkström Filip and Johnstad Tom, Kooperativ Årsbok 2000. 27 See Sjölin Walter, Konsumenter i samverkan. En skildring av konsumentkooperationen i göte- borgsområdet under ett sekel, (1967), Konsumtionsföreningen Göteborg med omnejd. Mützell Ulla-Vera, Bibliografi över kooperationen i Sverige: 1950-1986, (1986), Högskolan i Borås. Bodén Barbro, Från Beatrice Webb i London till Emma Nilsson i Munksund. Om kvinnogillesverksamhe-

21 The focus on the process of centralisation of the Co-operative movement in Sweden has also resulted in a neglect of the manifold local-level expressions of consumer co-operation, such as guild activities and cultural debate in the co- operative press or other co-operative forums. These social and cultural expressions are, at best, mentioned in the literature, but they are never analysed. In contrast to the Swedish focus on consumer co-operation as organisations, many British scholars regard co-operation as a cultural phenomenon, and it is no accident that Peter Gurney’s influential book from 1996 is entitled Co-operative Culture and the Politics of Consumption in England, 1870-1930. This brings us to the British research tradition. The British literature is far more comprehensive than its Swedish equivalent, and it has also produced overviews of the historiography of the field, which I will draw on in the presentation.28 There are different opinions about the state of research on co-operation. Peter Gurney and Mary Hilson both point out that, even though there are some well- known works on co-operation in Britain, the majority of historians have neglected the phenomenon of co-operation.29 Nicholas Alexander and Gary Ake- hurst, on the other hand, state that “…the history of general co-operative retailing has attracted considerable attention". "Indeed", they continue to say, "this area of study has passed the stage where greater qualification and reinterpretation is now both possible and desirable”.30 The explanation for these different opinions is that Gurney and Hilson understand co-operation as a cultural phenomenon and as a popular movement, and they would like to see more studies relating to co-operation in the field of social and labour history. Alexander and Akehurst are situated in the field of retail and business history and, in that field, co-operation is generally viewed as one of many different retail forms. In that field, cultural, social and political implications of co-operation are not considered to any great extent. From a Swedish per-

ten inom den svenska konsumentkooperationen, (1988), C1-uppsats i idéhistoria Umeå universitet, unpublished. Det ekonomiska samarbetets historia: En inventering av ekonomiska föreningar Jämt- lands län 1866-1993, (1996), En Rapport från Föreningsarkivet i Jämtlands län. Sandgren Fredrik, Åt var och en efter behov? En studie av lanthandeln i Revsundsregionen i östra Jämtland 1870- 1890, (1999), Acta Universitatis Upsaliensis, Uppsala. Johansson R. Anders, ”…medlemmarna och allmänheten till nytta…”. Om Konsum och handelsföreningarna samt deras historia på Gotland, (1999), Haimdagars Förlag, Lärbro. Johansson Per-Magnus, Socialdemokratin och kooperationen, (1996), c-uppsats, Historiska Institutionen, Lunds Universitet, unpublished. Johansson Per-Magnus, Kooperativa Förbundet och krisuppgörelsen 1933, (1997), magister-uppsats, Historiska institutionen, Lunds universitet, unpublished. Bleckberg Maria, Konsumbussarna i Nordmarken. Nordmar- kens Konsumtionsförenings varubussar 1958-77, (2002), b-uppsats, historia, Karlstad Universitet, unpublished. Bleckberg Maria, Kooperativ väg från avarterna i det framväxande masskonsum- tionssamhället. En lokal undersökning gällande rationella konsumenter i Nordmarkens konsum- tionsförening, (2002:2), c-uppsats, historia, Karlstad Universitet, unpublished. Hugo Kylebäck has also written about the development of consumer co-operative societies in Sweden since 1850 based on what co-operators like Axel Phålman, Walter Sjölin and Axel Gjöres has written on the subject, see Kylebäck, (1968). 28 Gurney, (1996), Chapter One, "Co-operation and the Historians". 29 Gurney, (1996), chapter one. Hilson, (1998), pp. 104-106. 30 Alexander Nicholas and Akehurst Gary, The Emergence of Modern Retailing, 1750-1950, (1999), Frank Cass, London, Portland, p. 9.

22 spective, the research done by British scholars is richer in themes and perspectives. However, one of the problems with the British literature, which becomes even more apparent in comparison with the Swedish literature, is the lack of studies with a longer historic perspective taking us beyond the Second World War.31 As pointed out earlier, there are some British studies of post-1945 co- operation carried out by social scientists who focus on the development of co- operative democracy and co-operative management. But this literature lacks connections with the historic studies and has the character of commissioned research. The focus is on the problems that co-operatives faced in the Post-War period, and when the scholars address these problems they compare with a black and white image of the past. By implication, they suggest that there were no problems before 1945; compared with such a glorious past, the Post-War period was a gloomy time for consumer co-operation. Having discerned mainly the differences between the British and Swedish secondary literature there is a similarity of particular importance for the current project that I would like to address. In both literatures there is a gap between the statistics of the economic and social development and the ideas about what co- operation is or should be. That is, there are studies of the development of the co- operative organisations, mainly the federal ones, and there are studies of the tradition of co-operative ideas and ideals. In the British literature where the cultural elements of co-operation are in focus, a link between practice and ideas is established. But the assumptions about rank-and-file members' ideas about co- operation and motives for joining, staying or ending their membership are in this literature mainly based on members' reminiscence. There are good reasons for coming back to this issue and ask whether there really is no other way of finding out about how ideas and practice link, or indeed if they link at all.

3.1 Refining the research question The rough outline presented above serves several purposes. First, it provides the contours of Swedish and British research traditions on the theme of consumer co-operation. It is far from a complete survey, but the account includes the standard works frequently referred to, as well as the most recent research – at least insofar as I have been able to locate it.32 Second, it pin-points gaps in the respective national bodies of literature, i.e. the historiographic comparison uncovers ––––––––– 31 Apart from my own study, I only know of two other coming academic historic studies addressing the question of how the Consumer Co-operative movement and how co-operative societies in Brit- ain handled the challenges in the Post War Period. See: Gurney Peter, “The marginalisation of the co-operative alternative in Britain (1945-1957)”, paper presented at the conference Consumerism versus Capitalism? Co-operatives seen from an International Comparative Perspective, Ghent, 16- 18 October 2003. Cooper Gwen, title of forthcoming thesis The "Heyday" and "Decline" of the Co- operative Movement, with Special Reference to Lancashire,, C 1930-1980. 32 As far as unpublished British PhD theses and works by undergraduate students are concerned, the works included are such works that either have been archived in the archives I have visited, mainly the National Co-operative Archive in Manchester, or that have been given to me by the authors themselves or their supervisors.

23 those areas which are relatively neglected and therefore call for closer scrutiny. Finally, and as a positive version of the second point, the comparison works as a cross-fertiliser. Informed by the British case, new interesting questions crop up and aid the historic imagination for a Swedish study – and vice versa. With this historiographic background in mind, we can begin to view our initial question from a new vantage point. The original question, the one I started out with, was how two strong consumer co-operative societies in Newcastle and Malmö managed the changes in consumption patterns, and in the retail sector, that occurred during the Post-War period. As the historiographic overview shows, this question was tailored after the British secondary literature. Historic studies of Post War consumer co-operation are rare, and this provides us with a gap to fill. The overview also shows, however, that the Swedish case is different, and that there is another set of gaps – in terms of periods and themes – that need to be filled there. All in all, this suggests that the original question must be revised and refined. To this end, I shall again make use of the secondary literature, and this time pay attention to its contents. Rather than dragging the entire, heavy tail of existing research through the pages, I shall focus instead on the contents of three distinctive, but interrelated, debates in the literature. They deal, in turn, with consumer demand, the relation between democracy and business efficiency, and the contents and discontents of internal co-operative politics. I will mainly draw on the historical literature reviewed above, but it will also be supplemented with works from other disciplines, whenever they have a bearing upon the central arguments in the three debates. The presentation of these debates, and my critical reflections upon them, serves a dual purpose. It will provide us, both with a few facts to build on, and with a final specification of the research question in this book.

3.1.1 Consolidation of co-operative business and consumer demand There are some commonalities between the British and the Swedish – or Scandi- navian – Co-operative movements and organisations, which become evident if they are seen against the backdrop of an international context. Unlike co- operatives in other countries, British and Swedish consumer co-operatives had large assets and funds when the modernisation of the retail trade came on the agenda in the 1950s and 1960s.33 Besides this, in both countries, member figures rose quickly once consumer co-operation was established, and they have continued to rise throughout the 20th century. A few figures suffice to give an idea of the extent of consumer co-operation in the two countries. In 1942, nearly 9 million Britons were members of a consumer co-operative society, which means that approximately 18 per cent of the popula-

––––––––– 33 Furlough Ellen and Strikwerda Carl, “Economics, Consumer Culture, and Gender: An Introduction to the Politics of Consumer Cooperation”, in Consumers against Capitalism? Consumer Coopera- tion in Europe, North America, and Japan, 1840-1990, (1999), Eds. Furlough and Strikwerda Carl, Rowman & Littlefield Publishers Inc., Lanham, Boulder, New York and Oxford, p. 22.

24 tion was involved with, and shopped in, the Co-op.34 The corresponding figures for Sweden in 1946 tell us that 850,000 people were members of consumer co- operatives, i.e. about 13 per cent of the population.35 In 1961, the member figure in Britain had risen to 13 million, which, as Ostergaard and Halsey point out, means that there was nearly one co-op member in every second family in the country.36 For Sweden, too, member figures had risen in absolute terms by 1960, and 16 per cent of the population were then members of a consumer co-operative society.37 Thus both in absolute and relative terms, member figures in Swedish and British consumer co-operatives were impressive. There are also similarities between Britain and Sweden regarding the commercial ability of consumer co-operation. If we measure commercial ability as the rate between turnover and GNP, the estimate for 1958 yields 6.0 per cent for Swedish, and 5.5 per cent for British consumer co-operatives, which places them in the top group in an international comparison.38 Commonalities can be detected in other areas as well. For example, the Co-op in Sweden and Britain – alongside the Austrian Co-op – were first in their respective countries to introduce self- service in the food sector, in the late 1940s and in the 1950s.39 Yet, it is precisely in the 1950s that we begin to discern differences between Britain and Sweden in terms of business success and rationalisations. 1958 was the year of the Co- operative Independent Commission report. Within the organisation, there was a concern at the time, that, in economic terms, the expansion of consumer co- operation would come to a halt. This issue has also attracted the attention of researchers. In a summary statement of recent research, Ellen Furlough and Carl Strikwerda note that even though the British Co-operative movement had sufficient capital and the possibility to borrow more if needed, the British co-operators chose not to use the accumulated capital to make their business more efficient through integration and modernisation. Because of this, the Co-op in Britain lost ground to their competitors in the second half of the 20th century. As a contrast to this image of the Brit- ish Co-operative movement, the Swiss, Scandinavian and Japanese co-operative organisations are presented as more successful. The Co-operative movements in these countries, particularly those in Denmark and Sweden, had always been concerned with reinvesting a proportion of their surplus into research, expansion, ––––––––– 34 Cole, (1947), p. 372. In 1941 the population of the United Kingdom was 48,216,000, see Hicks Joe and Allan Grahame, A Century of Change: Trends in UK Statistics since 1900, Research Paper 99/111, 21 December 1999, Library House of Commons, p. 6. 35 Kylebäck, (1983), p. 212. Population figures taken from Statistiska Centralbyråns databas ”Befolk- ningsutvecklingen i riket. År 1749-2003”, the exact figure 1946 is 6,763,685. 36 Ostergaard and Halsey, (1965), p. x. 37 1,175,000 members in co-operative societies in 1960 see Kylebäck, (1983), p. 212. The total population of Sweden was 7,497,967. Population figures taken from the database at Statistiska Central- byrå, ”Befolkningsutvecklingen i riket. År 1749-2003”. 38 Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999), pp. 22-23. Finland topped the group, with the staggering figure of 19.7 per cent. 39 Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999), p. 31. Bergman Bosse, Handelsplats, Shopping, Stadsliv: En historik om butiksformer, säljritualer och det moderna stadslivets trivialisering, (2003), Sympo- sion, Stockholm/Stehag, pp. 128-129.

25 and means of rationalisation to cut costs. They managed to change their commercial niche by switching to higher quality goods, putting an emphasis on service and consumer awareness and changing their advertisement strategies. Con- sequently, these latter countries continued to be economically successful several decades into the second half of the 20th century.40 The logic of this argument is worth spelling out more fully. The explanation for the emerging differential, in terms of economic success, is sought in the failure of the British consumer co-operatives to adapt to changes in consumer demand. One part of the argument is concerned with the causes of the organisation's inability to adapt, and another part directs our attention to the changing circumstances the organisation faced, i.e. what the authors refer to as the "consumerist revolution". We shall return to the question of how these two tiers of the argument are conceived in the literature. Before doing so, however, it is useful with a reminder about the truth conditions of the proposed explanation. It holds true only if the British case differs from the economically successful countries in relevant ways. This leaves us with two possibilities: either these countries were not subjected to a "consumerist revolution" at all, or the consumer co-operatives were better equipped to cope with and adapt to their changing surroundings. On the face of it, and judging by the secondary literature on Swedish consumer co-operation, this view appears to be corroborated. Hugo Kylebäck's studies of the restructuring of the consumer co-operative businesses in Sweden during the Post-War period show that, in terms of profitability, KF and the majority of Swedish co-operative societies managed very well up until the economic crisis in the middle of the 1970s. In the course of the 1960s, the conversion into self- service was nearly completed, food halls and supermarkets were introduced and an adaptation to the 'car society' had taken place. Kylebäck, too, links restructu- ration efforts to the relative economic success of Swedish co-operatives, and argues that they would have been even more successful, had restructurings been more radical.41 He also points to the limits of this endeavour, however, when he notes that these measures met with protests from the members. The modernisation of the stores and services speeded up the amalgamation of societies, and affected democratic conditions, which in turn led to internal protests. This observation relates to the first tier of Furlough's and Strikwerda's argument above: what affects the ability or willingness of co-operative organisations to adapt and restructure? Questions of business efficiency are obviously entangled with questions of democracy in the case of consumer co-operation. This, however, will be dealt with in the next paragraph. Let us now concentrate on the second tier of the argument, that of changes in consumer demand. This part of the argument is strongly emphasised by Furlough

––––––––– 40 Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999), pp. 30-33. 41 Kylebäck, (1989), pp. 205-211. In his conclusions Kylebäck takes on the role of adviser stating that the re-organisations of the business in the 1960s were not enough. He chooses sides in an internal conflict within the Swedish Consumer Co-operative Movement by saying that the resources in the movement could have come to better use had the integration between KF and its members, the independent co-operative societies, gone much further as early as the 1960s.

26 and Strikwerda, and by many of the contributors to the anthology Consumers against capitalism?. In short, the argument is that it was not the failure of consumer co-operative societies, but the success of capitalist consumerism, that led to the stagnation and decline of the Co-operative movement: It is the argument of most of the authors in this volume that the real challenge for consumer cooperation in the industrialized world has not been the movement's economic weakness but its obligation to confront the consumerist revolution. Cooperation’s greatest crisis was adaption to changing times and tastes – providing a fuller range of goods and appealing to more tastes without giving up the advantages of low costs and democratic, consumer participation. Food had been the mainstay of cooperatives’ business since the mid-nineteenth century. Cooperatives had difficulties in shifting into furniture, clothing, and household appliances. Of greater importance,…, the nature of consumption as a whole changed.42 Curiously enough, and despite the strong emphasis on changes in consumption patterns, the notion of a "consumerist revolution" is not very clear. It is indeed a fact that the introduction of capital goods – like furniture, clothing and household appliances – involved difficulties for co-operative societies. It is also true that consumers from the 1920s (1950s in Sweden) spent more money on durables than before. This has been confirmed both by internal co-operative reports and by academic scholars.43 The problem lies elsewhere. What, exactly, does it mean that “the nature of consumption as a whole changed”? Even more importantly, what does it mean that consumer co-operation had an "obligation to confront the consumerist revolution"? The key word here is "obligation". It hints at a quasi- normative – perhaps idealised, and certainly partial – conception of the co- operative movement and its members. This comes out clearly in the following quotation, also taken from Furlough and Strikwerda, of what the co-operators were like: As consumers they demanded fair prices, unadulterated foodstuffs, and goods made under just conditions by unionised workers. As consumers, they built institutions that returned profits on the basis of consumer purchases rather than on the basis of shares owned. As consumers they constructed vast wholesaling enterprises, founded political parties, and debated the nature of the good society of the future.44 No wonder, then, considering the moral fibres of these members, that consumer co-operation had an obligation to confront the emerging consumerism. This view of what consumer co-operation is, and of how co-operators think and act, is something we find in other studies of consumer co-operation. Peter Gurney also describes consumer co-operation as a moral project, designed as an alternative to capitalist mass consumption. ––––––––– 42 Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999), p. 33, italics added. 43 Co-operative Independent Commission Report, (1958), Co-operative Union Ltd., Manchester, pp. 38-51. See also Kylebäck, (1983), pp. 39-42. 44 Consumers against Capitalism? (1999), p. 5.

27 In this book I argue that the dominant modern mode of mass consumption which emerged in England in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries should not be regarded as inevitable or the only available alternative and this is why the neglected social history of co-operation is so important. The Co-operative movement developed a transformative social and economic strategy based on the association of workers within the sphere of consumption. Participation and membership were counterposed within co-operative discourse to the passive and homogenised 'masses' so beloved by capitalist entrepreneurs. Co-operation, as I argued above, attempted to moralise economic relations.45 There is certainly an element of truth in the notion that the Co-operative movement was a moral project – at least in some respects and to some of its proponents and members. The qualifier in this sentence, however, is of the utmost importance. The view that Co-operation is not a part of the modern mode of mass consumption, but an alternative to it, did have its advocators within the Co- operative movement. But was this opinion shared by all co-operators? It would obviously be illegitimate to short-circuit this question by arguing that only those who share the values listed in these quotations are "real co-operators". In order to obtain a picture of how this "transformative social and economic strategy" really worked, we must rather investigate how the members interacted with their societies. This becomes all the more important if we consider the role that co- operative culture, basically conceived of in moral terms, is made to play in the argument on the causes of economic decline in British consumer co-operation. The argument proposed by Furlough, Strikwerda, and Gurney can be roughly reconstructed as follows. A distinctive feature of consumer co-operation was that consumer demand was mediated through a democratic organisation, rather than merely receiving inputs from the market. Co-operatives had the benefit that their shoppers would use voice instead of exit as a means of communicating their demand, and the members in their turn were infused with a co-operative culture honouring a set of values. That particular combination provided consumer co- operatives with a bulwark against capitalist consumerism. Yet, according to the authors, this was about to change. A major change came in the 1920s when, as Furlough and Strikwerda put it, the working class "became enmeshed in consumer culture" and "came out of the scarcity of the War ready to embrace a different attitude towards spending, debt, and the buying of the right thing".46 Much along the same lines, Peter Gurney – who, incidentally, only studies the period between 1870 and 1930 – declares that the period from the 1920s to the 1950s was an experience of defeat for co-operators. He demonstrates how the Con- sumer Co-operative movement faced problems in one area after another, e.g. politics, labour relations and competition in the retail market, and he concludes that this was the effect of the demise of co-operative culture that began in the 1920s.

––––––––– 45 Gurney, (1996), p. 22. 46 Consumers against Capitalism? (1999), p.33.

28 The loss of a co-operative culture, so the argument goes, also deprived consumer co-operatives of their distinctive benefit over other forms of business, i.e. member voice as a privileged source of information about the nature and extent of consumer demand. The effects were not immediately felt, but, by the time of the 1950s, consumer co-operatives were unable to affect, and keep in tune with, consumer demand. These arguments no doubt have important merits, and the perspective they present is highly suggestive. On the other hand, they also contain some dubious points. I am not primarily concerned here with the somewhat romanticised view of consumer co-operation, which at times creates the impression that the authors are lamenting the demise of co-operative culture. Nor am I concerned with the vagueness of terms such as "consumerist revolution". I am thinking, rather, of a few matters of fact. Was it really the case that, before the advent of the 1920s, all members of co-operative societies demanded fair prices, unadulterated foodstuffs, goods made under just conditions by unionised workers, and spent their time debating the nature of the good society of the future? And was all this swept away by a shopping frenzy in the Inter-War years? Not only does this picture seem too polarised, the empirical evidence presented is also insufficient to warrant such a bold conclusion. As we noted earlier, British research on consumer co-operation has a heavy emphasis on the period before the Second World War. We know very little about what happened after that, and we thus cannot trace the possible effects of a with- ering co-operative culture through the relevant decades. Furthermore, if co- operative culture was the key to the earlier successes of British co-operation, can this explanation be generalised to other countries as well, or should we look for separate explanations? Was Swedish consumer co-operation also characterised by a co-operative culture, and was this culture perhaps more robust over time than its British equivalent? We do not know. The Swedish research literature has had other foci, and very little has been written about co-operative culture either before or after the World War. In fact, the impression we get in the secondary literature, notably in Kylebäck's work, is that the prolonged economic success of Swedish co-operatives was linked to their ability to restructure, amalgamate, and construct more large-scale units. How does this square with an emphasis on co- operative culture? On the other hand, the Swedish literature contains little information on local consumer co-operative societies, which presumably would be the locus of that co-operative culture which Gurney talks about. Both the British and the Swedish literature contain important leads, well worth following up. The notion that co-operative culture mediated consumer demand, and at the same time provided the societies with information of the nature and extent of consumer demand, surely merits further attention. So does Kylebäck's argument that the increasingly large-scale operations of Swedish co- operatives were an efficient way of securing economic progress. In order to investigate these ideas, however, we need to know more about what went on at the micro level, in individual societies, and about the organisational dynamics of these societies. We must pay attention to the interface between the societies and their members, and we must do so in both Britain and Sweden. Despite Peter Gurney's impressive effort, which has inspired my own

29 research in several respects, this type of information is absent in his study. Co- operative culture is represented by the voices of leaders and activists, and he mo- tivates this by claiming that most rank-and-file members rarely presented their opinions in press material or addressed "co-operative gatherings" (by which he presumably means member meetings). Therefore, he argues, it is difficult to find out about their experiences of being members and shopping at the Co-op. The limited information that we do get on these issues is gathered from oral history and autobiographical evidence.47 Yet, the prospects for investigating these matters are not as dark as Gurney makes them out to be. Members did take the opportunity to speak their mind on what they thought about the services and goods offered in their stores. They are present in minutes from member meetings, and their complaints, questions, and suggestions have made their way into board minutes and ended up in the board's complaint book. Minutes from member and board meetings are the main source material in the current study. I aim to study the discussions at member meetings and, through these discussions, the interface between members and society. As we have shown above, this type of information is necessary in order to determine how consumer co-operatives have dealt with consumer demand. The discussion in this paragraph also indicates, however, that questions of business efficiency were inextricably linked to issues of member participation and democracy within the Co-operative movement. This is an area that has generated its own secondary literature, and our next step will be to review this literature and to pick up a few additional questions from it.

3.1.2 Co-operative democracy and participation There is no doubt that questions of business efficiency and democracy were perceived to be intertwined within the Co-operative movement itself. Both in Brit- ain and in Sweden, the business strategies of the 1950s eventually provoked debates about democracy and member participation. To bring this out more fully, it is instructive to start out by reviewing the British case in somewhat more detail. When the Second World War was over, directors and management in co- operative societies had to start to think about the future. The imminent task was to deal with a retail market still marked by rationing schemes, and the second to initiate a conversion into self-service facilities. A process of re-organisation and modernisation of co-operative businesses took off in all the western industrial- ised countries – at least those where fascism, Nazism or state controlled commu- nism had not demolished or transformed the consumer co-operative organisations beyond recognition. Yet, the process was not uniform, and not uniformly successful. British and Swedish consumer co-operatives shared one important feature: they both had large assets and funds by the end of the Second World War. They had different ideas, as we have seen earlier, about how these resources should be used. Worries over the financial prospects of British consumer co-operation brought the Co-operative Independent Commission Report, published in 1958. The fact ––––––––– 47 Gurney, (1996), p. 61.

30 that it is made up by one “majority report” and one “minority report” testifies that we are dealing with a democratic order where both majority and minority opinions were presented to the members.48 There is no research available on how the debate on the modernisation of the movement unfolded. It is clear, however, that economic questions were not treated separately, in isolation from democratic concerns. In the years before and after the report of the commission, the movement issued several investigations on topics such as co-operative democracy, the formal systems of democracy, the process of decision-making, and the division of powers and duties between the board of directors and the board of management.49 In addition, the Co-operative Union launched a research project, in which Brian Groombridge was engaged to explore how the so-called auxiliaries – the Women's Co-operative Guild, the National Guild of Co-operators, the National Men's Guild, and the British Federation of Young Co-operators – could adapt their aims, organisations and programmes in order to increase the strength of the Co-operative movement. Somewhat provocatively, Groombridge states at the outset that he did not just ask how the auxiliaries can adapt, but also whether they can and should do so.50 We will return to Groombridge, and to the role of the so-called auxiliaries, further on. What is important here is that the organisational concerns within the movement sparked off a series of commissioned research projects. There is thus no sharp demarcation line between internal organisational discussions and academic inquiry. The movement set the agenda for academic discussions, and the works that came out of this effort typically contain recommendations for how consumer co-operation should arrange its formal democratic institutions. One of these works is Ostergaard and Halsey's Power in Co-operatives: A Study of the Internal Politics of British Retail Societies. In their study, Oster- gaard and Halsey describe the structure of co-operative governance, and address the problems of combining business efficiency and democratic control in the Post-War period. In the chapter on experiments in democratic control, they also set out to describe local and regional variations in forms of co-operative democracy in Britain. The predominant pattern was that most societies, particularly the smaller ones, still employed direct democracy and that the member meeting was granted far-reaching authority. There were a few exceptions, e.g. the Royal Ar- senal Co-operative Society in London, where steps had been taken towards a more representative version of the democratic process. While these exceptions were all large societies, not all large societies had abandoned the democratic model handed down – the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society, for example, had not changed its democratic procedures in this sense. ––––––––– 48 See Majority Report and Minority Report in Co-operative Independent Commission Report, (1958), pp. 1-256 and 271-320. 49 Banks J. A. and Ostergaard G. N., Co-operative Democracy, Co-operative College Papers, number 2, March 1955. Ostergaard and Halsey, (1965). 50 Groombridge Brian, Report on the Co-operative Auxiliaries, Co-operative College Papers, number 7, October 1960, p. 5. See also Groombridge Brian, The Future of the Auxiliaries: A Postscript, (1963), Education Department Co-operative Union, Stanford Hall, Loughborough.

31 The focus in Power in Co-operatives is on the situation in the 1950s and 1960s. For historic data the authors turn to what they can find in the secondary literature, generally to the studies of Carr-Saunders et al. and Cole from the 1930s and 1940s. Nevertheless, they do present a view of what the democratic forms were like in the early days of consumer co-operation, i.e. the mainly direct democratic institutions of the 19th and early 20th centuries: The extreme democracy of the early Co-operative constitutions was itself in part a reflection of the resentment of men excluded from the national polity. It was a natural form of organization for the new poor who were without benefit of the hierarchical patronage of the squire and parson of rural England. It was a form of association consonant with the proper- tyless, rough and close-packed insecurity and stringency of the urban working classes. The authoritarian attitudes of the working class on non- economic issues which is revealed by modern public opinion polls [Lip- set's study Political Man from 1960] may be incontrovertible; but the intense local and occupational loyalties generated by living and working conditions of the nineteenth century industrial worker, together with his exclusion from national politics and subjection to the middle classes, provided the most powerful impetus to democratic ideology in modern Brit- ain.51 There is much to be said about this account. The argument that a particular form of democratic organisation was natural to the people who inhabited the early consumer co-operatives should activate the analytical alarm bell. For although the decision structure of the early consumer co-operatives was by and large direct democratic, the rules for engaging in the forum were quite complex, and it is difficult to see how they could be mere reflections of underlying class solidarity. In fact, it is an important empirical question how, and to what extent, members and would-be members learned the rules of democratic decision-making. Fur- thermore, it is not clear why working class conditions would favour direct democracy over representative democracy. The portrayal of early democratic forms plays an argumentative role in Oster- gaard and Halsey's Power in Co-operatives. Here was a "natural form of organisation", which people flocked to get involved in, and, from that perspective, the situation in the 1950s and 1960s must indeed have looked dark. Compared to the constructed heyday of consumer co-operation, the level of participation of the modern members appeared to be very low, and the members' lack of participation was interpreted as a sign of apathy. Thus, the "problem of apathy" is at the heart of their concerns.52 Ostergaard and Halsey describe the problems of current formal systems of democracy in the following terms. While the co-operative societies had grown in size, due to amalgamations and membership increase, many societies had stuck to the original format of making decisions in quarterly member meetings, open to

––––––––– 51 Ostergaard G. N. and Halsey A. H., (1965), p. xv. 52 Cf. chapter 3 in Ostergaard G. N. and Halsey A. H., (1965).

32 all members who wished to come and could get into the meeting hall. This had begun to create problems within the amalgamated societies, which now covered wide geographical areas: their members had previously belonged to different competing societies, and were now both forced to travel far to get to the meeting and to adjust to new informal sections at the meeting. Under these conditions, the old system with more or less direct democracy did not work. Hence the problem of apathy. The solution to the problem, according to the authors, lies in reform- ing the formal democratic procedures. The earlier once so "natural" democratic organisation should be replaced by a new one. Ostergaard and Halsey recommend that formal parties should be allowed to form within the co-operative democracy. They also suggest that a representative system should be introduced, and point to the Stockholm society as a model for the British consumer co- operatives. The diagnosis presented in Power in Co-operatives thus focuses on the "member apathy" that rationalisation has brought about, and the proposed remedy is a change in the formal structure of the democratic system. If direct democracy is replaced by representative democracy, apathy will cease, co-operative democracy will be revived, and the members will become more interested in the affairs of their societies again. What, then, about the model the authors wished to copy? What was the state of co-operative democracy in Sweden? In contrast to Britain, Swedish research on the developments of, and the debates within, consumer co-operation has not primarily been initiated from within the movement. Academic scholars – political scientists, economists, and social scientists generally – have found consumer co-operation to be an interesting case to study from a purely scholarly point of view. This does not necessarily mean that there is a gulf between the concerns within the movement and the questions posed in the research literature. On the contrary, one of the most comprehensive studies of the formal democratic arrangements in consumer co-operation, Sun-Joon Hwang's Folkrörelse eller af- färsföretag: Den svenska konsumentkooperationen 1945-1990, takes its point of departure in the question whether the Swedish Co-operative movement was transformed from a popular movement into a business company during the Post- War period. This way of posing the question is no doubt consonant with both the external and the internal critique of Swedish consumer co-operation that began in the 1960s. Sun-Joon Hwang starts out with the remark that, in all co-operative societies, there is an internal tension between business efficiency and the demands on democracy. He also identifies an external tension between consumer and producer interests, which the co-operative organisations are subjected to. His argument is that these different interests had promoters in different parts of the Co-operative movement. Those who had business efficiency as their highest priority, usually leaders at KF, eventually won in the struggle with other co-operative leaders and members who stressed the importance of the democratic process. His argument singles out the 1950s as a watershed where the business efficiency line got the better of those who defended the existing federal system. This, in turn, led to the development of a democratic structure that promoted an élite democracy within the movement.

33 The external tension, i.e. between representing consumer or producer interests, was resolved in favour of the producer side. Hwang demonstrates how KF, from the 1960s onwards, successively lost in credibility as an organisation promoting consumer interests when KF representatives in commissions and other organs promoted business interests. Thus, according to Hwang, the manner in which both the internal and the external tensions were resolved worked in favour of a transformation of consumer co-operation from a popular movement to a business company.53 In contrast to the British research reviewed above, Hwang's study is not commissioned by the Co-operative movement, and he therefore has no reason to provide practical guidelines for how the organisation should act. Nevertheless, the author measures the development of Swedish consumer co-operation against theoretical models of democracy, and on this basis, he arrives at a hypothetical imperative: if consumer co-operation wishes to remain a popular movement, it needs to preserve direct, participatory democratic arrangements. In this sense there is an interesting parallel between Hwang's Swedish study and the investigation of British co-operation by Ostergaard and Halsey. In both cases, the authors identify the emerging gap between business decisions, on the one hand, and member demands and democratic influence on the other. In both cases, the remedy is sought in a reformation of the formal democratic structure. Their recommendations, however, go in opposite directions. In order to revive member participation, Ostergaard and Halsey – inspired by the Stockholm Co-operative So- ciety's representative democracy – recommend a move away from direct democratic forms towards representative democracy. Hwang holds that the representative system created an élite democracy incompatible with a popular movement and suggests that a move towards more direct democratic forms would revive participation in the movement. The mere juxtaposition of these two arguments indicates that it is far from obvious which solution would result in increased member participation. If anything, the relation between democratic form and participation must be investigated empirically, preferably at the local level, where members have participated, or refrained from participating, in their respective societies. The research reported above singles out member participation in the Post-War period as an important issue. When addressing this question in the middle of the 1960s, J. A. Banks and G. N. Ostergaard pointed out that, although “the problem of apathy” was far from new, there was a widespread impression that the degree of apathy had increased in comparison with the situation before 1945.54 They wished to test whether there was any truth in this impression, and compared attendance figures in 24 co-operative societies, mainly societies in the Midland Section, from 1933 and 1954. Their conclusion – with the reservation that 1933 ––––––––– 53 Hwang, (1995), pp. 208-217. 54 As an example of “The Problem of Apathy” in the early days of co-operation Banks and Oster- gaard refer to a statement of a representative from Manchester at the Co-operative Congress in 1873: “…about hundred members ruled his society of 4,600 and ‘practically the Committee ruled those who attended to elect them’”. Banks and Ostergaard G. N., (1955), p. 10, footnote 1.

34 and 1954 could be exceptional years – was that the proportion of members attending member meetings had decreased. Compared with 1933, the total membership in 1954 had increased by almost 79 per cent in these societies. Had the proportional level of participation remained constant, 17,482 members would have attended meetings in 1954; the actual figure, however, was 2,748. Although these figures are not obtained from a representative cross-section of British members in co-operative societies, the authors argue that they reflect a general trend.55 Swedish scholars have generally been interested in the national co-operative democratic structure, rather than in member participation at member meetings. There are some exceptions, however, in the literature covering the period after 1945. Kylebäck refers, for example, to one internal co-operative survey from the early 1960s, which presents the percentage of members attending meetings.56 In this study, the proportion of attending members is related to city size – and, by implication, to the division between countryside and cities, as well as to the size of the societies. In countryside co-ops with very small villages, 15 per cent of the members came to member meetings, and in co-ops in villages with up to 1000 inhabitants the figure was 17 per cent. The corresponding figures for towns with between 1001 and 10,000 inhabitants was 12 per cent, whereas 7 per cent of the members attended meetings in towns with 10,001 to 30,000 inhabitants. Finally, in cities with 30,000 to 100,000 inhabitants, the average per cent of member attending was 8 per cent. No clear pattern can be discerned in the results of this study. It is nevertheless important, both because it reveals an internally motivated interest in the degree of member participation, and an ambition to explain variations between societies. What is also of interest is the admission of the investigators that, while their figures include all members, members were not the only people to attend these meetings. Family members and friends apparently came along to meetings: the average per cent of members taking part in meetings in all the societies studied was 11 per cent, yet the average number of attendances as a whole was 18 per cent.57 The Swedish material on participation is overall very scanty. Kylebäck has no longitudinal data to report, and member participation has not been a focus in studies of what the Swedish consumer co-operation was like before 1945. A good example of this is Olof Ruin’s important study of KF’s development from 1899 to 1929, which only covers the democratic forums connecting the co- operative societies with KF. To be sure, Ruin's study is important in its own right. It shows that representatives at the congress as early as the late 1910s were critical of the use of the Co-operative Congress, and perceived it to be a way of demonstrating the strength of the Co-operative movement, rather than a forum for discussing the affairs of KF and the co-operative societies. According to the- ––––––––– 55 Banks and Ostergaard G. N., (1955), pp. 9-13, quote footnote 1, p. 10. 56 Medlemsinflytande och förtroendevalda, in Kooperatören 1964, p. 39, in Kylebäck, (1983), pp. 221-222. 57 Medlemsinflytande och förtroendevalda, in Kooperatören 1964, p. 39, in Kylebäck, (1983), pp. 221-222.

35 se critics, the grand meetings with many representatives did not promote the democratic process. It is illustrative for this debate that, in 1934, a representative from a consumer co-operative society in Nynäshamn presented a proposition to make the congress more efficient by reducing the number of representatives.58 Important as these findings are for democratic issues at the federal level, the fact remains that his study does not deal with member participation in local societies. We should recognise from the outset that there are difficulties in studying participation in consumer co-operative societies. The example from the Swedish study above, where family and friends of members came along to member meetings, raises questions about the very concept of participation. Should non- member presence count as participation? More generally, what activities from which actors qualify as member participation in the affairs of consumer co- operative societies? And there are more difficulties to deal with. Banks and Os- tergaard hold that in the British case – presumably due to the prevailing direct democratic forms – it is difficult to find out how many members attended meetings.59 They also touch upon the problem that there are different ways of participating in a consumer co-operative society, and that it is not self-evident which type of involvement is "the most participatory". Despite this recognition, they suggest the following hierarchy of existing types of participation: …from general observations, participants might be ranked in the following descending order of importance: members of management and other committees (if any); candidates for the management and other committees; members who attend all general meetings; members who attend general meetings at which dividend declarations are made; members who vote at all elections (weather or not involving the management committee); members who vote only at elections involving the management committee; members belonging to Co-operative auxiliaries; members who trade generally with their society; members who trade in only a few commodities e.g., bread and milk; and finally, members who trade only occasionally.60 Members entrusted with a task rank highest, while shopping members are placed at the bottom. Shopping members do not appear to rank high in the studies of Swedish scholars either. The Swedish literature on member participation in the Post-War period proceeds by counting the number of members at meetings, the number of propositions made by members, how many members stood for office,

––––––––– 58 Ruin, (1960), pp. 99-100. 59 Banks and Ostergaard G. N., (1955), p. 11. When societies grew and it became unpractical to hold elections for committees, first and foremost the management committee, members could vote between certain dates at polling stations in the registered office and/or in stores. This procedure in the Newcastle Society is described in Part Three, Section 3.2. Otherwise we only have figures of how many members attended a meeting when results from elections are presented in the minutes. 60 Banks and Ostergaard (1955), footnote 1 p. 13.

36 and how many won elections.61 That is to say, the scope of these studies is confined to events that went on at member meetings. In one important respect, the Swedish focus gives a more restricted view of participation than the classification made by Banks and Ostergaard. Whereas the British authors count membership in co-operative auxiliaries as a fairly high- ranking type of participation, this type of activity is completely absent from the Swedish literature. To a considerable extent, it was within the auxiliary organisations that co-operative culture was fostered, upheld and transmitted, and the neglect of these forums can be seen as a reflection of a more general neglect – discussed in the previous paragraph – of the cultural and social dimensions of local consumer co-operation.62 We know very little about the social and cultural activities arranged or/and financially supported by co-operative societies in Swe- den.63 And the role of the so-called co-operative auxiliary organisations in the Swedish co-operative democracy has not been studied at all. Let us now summarise what we have said so far about the British and Swedish literature on co-operative democracy. Both bodies of literature contain inquiries of the formal systems of democracy in consumer co-operative societies, where considerable importance is ascribed to democratic forms. Ostergaard and Halsey recommend that British co-operatives should go from direct to representative democracy in order to restore member participation, and Hwang suggests that Swedish co-operation should turn to direct democratic forms if it wishes to secure a participatory character. Both works focus on the conditions for co- operative democracy. In order to investigate this theme properly, however, we need data on local societies. We want to know in what way, if any, formal democratic arrangements shape the internal life of individual organisations. We would want to charter the interplay of particular democratic procedures and a complex set of local practices, and to do so over an extended period of time. In fact, the two societies that we will follow in this book are strategic in this regard. The Newcastle Society, in

––––––––– 61 See Kylebäck, (1983), Avd IV Kooperationens inre miljö: medlemslivet och den demokratiska or- ganisationen. Kylebäck, (1989), Avd. IV Kooperationens inre miljö: den medlemsdemokratiska or- ganisationen. Hwang (1995). See also Pestoff Viktor, Membership Participation in Swedish Con- sumer Cooperatives, Research Report 1979:1, Department of Political Science, University of Stockholm and The Cooperative Institute, definition of active member see p. 5. Stryjan Yohanan and Mann Curt-Olof, “Members and Markets: the Case of Swedish Consumer Co-operation, in Ye- arbook of Co-operative Enterprise 1988, (1988). 62 The studies that do look at the social and cultural sides of consumer co-operation in Sweden focus on the ideals of co-operation and on the propaganda See Millbourn, (1975), (1976), (1982). Alex, (1994). Tullgren Pia, Hemarbete och husmodern. Kooperativa Förbundet under 1950-talet, (1999), C-uppsats, Historiska institutionen, Lunds universitet, unpublished. 63 For examples of studies looking at the social and cutural activities in co-operative societies or in relation to co-operative societies see Bodén, (1988), Friberg, (1998) and Bleckberg (2002:2). For a overview of the subjects debated in the Co-operative Press in Sweden which give us some indications as to the character of social and cultural activities within the movement, see Elveson Gunnar, Kooperatören, Konsumentbladet, Vi – en bibliografi, (1975), Avdelningen för litteratursociologi vid Litteraturvetenskapliga institutionen, Uppsala.

37 spite of being a large society, applied a direct democratic system, whereas Soli- dar in Malmö introduced a representative model as early as 1925. Our inquiry should also examine more closely the premise in the works discussed in this paragraph. First of all, what activities should count as participation? In contrast to Banks and Ostergaard, we will not take our point of departure in a hierarchy of activities constructed beforehand. We will rather treat this as an empirical problem, and ask how the co-operators themselves ranked different types of member and non-member activities in terms of participatory value. Sec- ondly, was it really the case that participation prospered before the Second World War, only to plunge in the Post-War era? Whereas the formal democratic arrangements, and their possible transformation over time, are important as boundary conditions and "rules of the game", the derived emphasis on participation also shifts our attention from the forms to the contents of co-operative democracy. This brings us to the third and last paragraph. To understand the character of co-operative democracy we clearly need to study the contents and discontents of internal co-operative politics

3.1.3 The contents and discontents of internal co-operative politics Throughout the 19th and 20th centuries, there has been a considerable amount of debate within the Co-operative movement over what co-operation is and should be, over utopian visions, and over the potentials and drawbacks of co-operative practice. These debates are well covered in the research literature. We know a great deal about the ideals of co-operation, the hopes and beliefs about what co- operation, as an economic and social system, and as an educational institution, would achieve when realised.64 Co-operative leaders, intellectuals and well- known social critics have been very explicit in their definitions of co-operation. They have had strong, and often contradictory, views about what co-operation is and what it is not. The fact that the definition of "true co-operation" is contested terrain poses certain, more or less formidable, problems for the researcher. In proposing a working definition of co-operation, the researcher runs the risk of taking sides in the very debates she or he is studying. She or he might easily end up measuring different positions in these debates against a semi-consciously constructed yard- stick, and feel tempted to explain deviations from the right path. Yet, if the researcher yields to this temptation, what separates the analysis from its object? Peter Gurney has taken this difficulty seriously in an analysis of the meaning and forms of co-operation. He suggests that we should study how different actors and parties have defined the concept of co-operation. In this study of how co- ––––––––– 64 See Lambert Paul, Studies in the Social Philosophy of Co-operation, (1963), Co-operative Union, Manchester. Aléx (1994). Royle, (1998). Donohue Kathleen, “From Cooperative Commonwealth to Cooperative Democracy: The American Cooperative Ideal, 1880-1940”, in Consumers against Ca- pitalism?, (1999). For examples on studies where the potential of Co-operation as idea and practice is in the focus see Satlow David I., “Some Sources of Instructional Material in ‘Education for Wise Consumption’”, Journal of Educational Sociology, Vol. 11, No. 7, March 1938. Treuenfels Ru- dolph L., “Cooperative Store Personnel as Educators”, in Journal of Educational Sociology, Vol. 16, No 8, April 1943.

38 operation was understood in Britain during the second half of the 19th century and up to the First World War, he demonstrates that middle-class reformers – some of whom were liberals and others Christian socialists – showed an interest in the concept as well as in the movement. He examines how these middle-class reformers wrote and spoke about co-operation, and the ways in which working- class co-operators challenged these reformers' way of defining co-operation.65 Gurney manages to describe a tug-of-war over the meaning and forms of co- operation, making an important contribution to our knowledge of the use of symbolic politics in relation to co-operation in Britain. Peder Aléx, a historian of ideas, has taken on a somewhat similar task, i.e. to distinguish the different groups that took an interest in co-operation in Sweden and the conflict over the concept and the movement.66 We will get back to these issues shortly. Before doing so, however, it is convenient to somewhat broaden the perspective. Struggles about the meaning and direction of co-operation can be characterised as a struggle over resources. The idea of consumer co-operation could be seen as a resource in itself. And as with any potentially valuable resource, we should expect that different camps – political, religious, or otherwise – may wish to appropriate it for specific purposes: whoever gets to define co-operation holds the privilege of interpreting its past and directing its future. Yet, consumer co-operation certainly also harbours other more tangible resources. It is, by design, a particular form of business venture, and as such it both creates organisation and allocates capital. On the one hand, these resources can be used as a vehicle to achieve other ends, and this makes it all the more attractive for different camps – particularly political ones – to be affiliated with consumer co-operation. On the other hand, the existence of such resources gives rise to questions that are political in a wider sense. Somehow it must be decided, from within the organisation itself, how the organisation should be constructed and what it should accomplish. Similarly, it must be decided what to do with the surplus within the organisation. Should long-term interests be sac- rificed for short-term ones? Should one part of the membership get its way, at the expense of the wishes of other members? Should surplus be reinvested in the organisation, redistributed to the members, or be redirected to some other cause? In this paragraph, as in the preceding ones, the purpose is twofold. On the one hand, it is a review of the secondary literature relevant to co-operative politics. On the other hand, it aims to portray, in brief outline, how the struggle over co- operation and its resources has unfolded through history in Britain and Sweden. The account begins with the tug-of-war over the meaning and direction of co- operation, and gradually moves on to questions about the employment and distribution of resources in the narrower sense.

––––––––– 65 Gurney, (1994). 66 To distinguish different ideologically based groups in Sweden that took an interest in co-operation has not been the focus of Aléx’s studies, but some of the introductory chapters in his study Den rationella konsumenten: KF som folkuppfostrare 1899-1939 nevertheless reveal a great deal about the use of symbolic politics in relation to co-operation as a concept and movement in Sweden. Aléx, (1994), see in particular Chapter 2 Sverige: bildning och kooperation.

39 Before we commence our account, however, we need to introduce an important caveat. The discussion so far could easily give the impression that co- operative ideas, i.e. ideas which are specific for and constitutive of co-operative practices, are either infinitely mouldable or completely absent. This is not the case, for consumer co-operation has its own principles, which distinguish it from other kinds of businesses. Although there are predecessors in the early 19th century, the principles of modern co-operation are based on the so-called Rochdale Model of 1844, and on the successive revisions of this model enacted within the forum of the ICA. Yet, actual practices are in many respects underdetermined by these principles, and co-operation has developed very differently in different parts of the world, in different countries, regions and localities. This is not the place to go into the various factors behind these divergences, but two of them stand out as particularly important in relation to our discussion of co-operation as a resource. Co-operation is embedded in national legislative frameworks, and, as we shall see in more detail further on, such frameworks vary from one country to the other. The second factor concerns the constellation of different ideological groups that have taken an interest in co-operation in each country. Let us now resume the thread, and ask again which camps have laid claims on consumer co-operation in Britain and in Sweden. Peter Gurney and Peder Aléx demonstrate in their studies that political debaters in 19th-century Britain and Sweden saw different potentials in co-operative ventures, and aspired to use it to achieve political ambitions. However, the attractions of co-operation and the temptation to link it with party politics or with a particular ideology, could also pose a problem for those who wished to run a co-operative society. Too strong ties between co-operation and politics could repel potential members, and the rival religious and political convictions of the membership could create damaging rifts within the local organisation. In fact, these potential problems were noted already by the so-called founders of the modern Consumer Co-operative movement. The Rochdale Pioneers, founders of the legendary Rochdale Society of Equi- table Pioneers in 1844, were concerned with keeping politics and religion outside their society. One of the principles of their operation was religious and political neutrality. It is important to understand this principle in the context of 1844 Rochdale, Lancashire, England. G.D.H. Cole has explained that the Rochdale Pioneers wanted to emphasise that they were not adherents of the ‘rational religion’ advocated by orthodox Owenites. Some of the founders were supporters of Owenism, but they did not wish the society to become sectarian, and other members of the society had other religious convictions. As for politics, the founders wanted members from different fractions within socialism, e.g. the various fractions of Chartists and supporters of the Anti-Corn Law League, to be able to join the society. In the 20th century, the principle of religious and political neutrality has generally been interpreted as neutrality in a wider sense; people from all kinds of political parties, from the established church as well as from Free Churches, should be able to join a co-operative society.67 ––––––––– 67 Cole, (1947), pp. 72-73.

40 While this principle of co-operation is an internal restriction on the possibility of keeping an exclusive link to specific ideologies, several studies have nevertheless shown that political convictions has been a disputed question within co- operative societies in Britain as well as in Sweden.68 Scholars have also shown how political convictions, such as Chartism, socialism and social democracy – and different religious beliefs – have promoted the establishment of co-operative societies in Britain and in Sweden.69 One result of these various inquiries is that there are different paths leading up to the founding of co-operative societies. As pointed out above, British liberals also took an interest in co-operation during the second half of the 19th century. Liberals, too, promoted the establishment of co- operative societies, and the simultaneous existence of different paths to co- operation provided the backdrop of the conflict over the concept of co-operation as described by Peter Gurney. In fact, the liberal propaganda for co-operation was far from negligible in the second half of the 19th century. Particularly in the North East and in Newcastle, propaganda in favour of co-operation was spread in the liberal press, headed by the Liberal MP Joseph Cowen Junior and the establishment of many co-operatives in this region was supported by Cowen and other Liberals.70 Liberalism also played a role in the introduction of co-operation in Sweden. Peder Aléx writes that, in mid-19th-century Sweden, it was mainly Liberals, one of them actually a converted Conservative, who took an interest in the concept of co-operation and made visits abroad to study the phenomenon up close. The converted Conservative was Erik Gustav Geijer, who had visited England to study the Co-operative movement. Upon his return to Sweden, Geijer wrote and spoke about co-operation, and it is likely that it was he who inspired County Governor Robert von Kraemer to start a rural co-operative society.71 Peder Aléx ––––––––– 68 Ruin, (1960). Lancaster, (1987). Millbourn Ingrid, “Rätt till maklighet” Om den svenska socialdemokratins läroprocess 1885-1902, (1990), Symposion Bokförlag, Stockholm/Stehag. Johansson, (1996). Hilson (1998). Hilson (2002). 69 Kylebäck, (1968). Purvis, (1987). See also Reed Mick, “’The Lord Does Combination Love’: Re- ligion and co-operation amongst a peculiar people”, in New Views on Co-operation, (1988). 70 Hugman Joan, “Joseph Cowen and the Blaydon Co-operative Society: A North East Model”, in Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth, (1996). For an informative study of the spread of co- operation see Martin Purvis’ doctoral thesis. Purvis state that: “Co-operation did not expand through a locally independent process of invention by groups seeking a solution to their problems of food supply; new societies were based on established models elsewhere.” He concludes that printed material helped to extend the idea of co-operation to small groups of enthusiasts throughout the country. However, popular support was most likely to follow from personal endorsement of co- operation either informally amongst neighbouring groups of workers or within the context of a public meeting. See Purvis (1987), pp. 147, 315-316, quote p. 243. 71 It should be noted, however, that if this co-operative society was modelled on anything like the Rochdale model, it was apparently no replica of it: the society initiated by Kraemer was primarily joined by farmers, and these joined in order to gain the benefits of buying in bulk and receiving interest on their shares. At the time that is in the 1850s, there was no legal framework in Sweden suitable for co-operatives hence the co-operative societies up until 1895 had to register as joint stock companies or trading companies, which hardly strengthened the co-operative character. For more detailed information about the legal framework of co-operatives in Sweden and in Britain see Chap- ter 6, this part below.

41 demonstrates how the Liberals' interest in co-operation was connected with the debate over the “social question”. Furthermore, he shows that the Liberal propaganda for co-operation in the second half of the 19th century was based on high educational ambitions: the idea was to raise the spiritual level of the workers to middle-class level. Thus, it was a combination of the educational activities of Li- berals and rural co-operatives that brought co-operation to Sweden.72 The 1890s brought a boom for co-operation in Sweden. This was partly due to legislative changes – the creation of an Act for co-operatives and other associations in 1895 – but it was also affected by a new, and more favourable, attitude towards co- operation among leading socialists.73 One of these socialists was Axel Daniels- son, who in the 1890s worked as editor for a Social Democratic newspaper in Malmö. In the end of the 1890s he wrote articles where he promoted the Roch- dale version of consumer co-operation. He was also active as an initiator of a consumer co-operative society in Malmö in 1898.74 We have now seen how different groups, mainly Liberals and socialists, took an interest in co-operation as an idea and acted as initiators of consumer co- operative ventures. This holds true for Britain and Sweden alike. Our account also includes examples from the two regions that are the empirical foci of this book, i.e. Newcastle in the North East, and Malmö in Skåne. It appears that there is an interesting difference between the regions in this regard. In the North East of England and in Newcastle more specifically, the principal advocator of co- operation was a famous Liberal. In Skåne, on the other hand, it was a famous Social Democrat. However, both propagated the Rochdale version of consumer co-operation. Now, if the discussion so far has focused on the struggle over co-operation as a concept – an idea, a movement in the making – the next step is to review the development of the struggle over co-operation as an organisation. Central to this discussion is the establishment and existence of federal co-operative organisations. During the second half of the 19th century, co-operators in England worked for the founding of federal co-operative organisations. The sequence of events and debates leading up to the formation of such organisations is indeed a history in itself, but it is one that we shall not go further into here.75 In the present context, it suffices to conclude that the Co-operative Wholesale Society (CWS) was

––––––––– 72 Aléx, (1999), pp. 242-245. 73 Aléx, (1999), pp. 246-247. 74 Axel Gjöres, the Editor of Kooperatören and Konsumentbladet 1913-1933 , two co-operative papers published by KF, has intimated that Danielsson’s propaganda for the Rochdale version of co- operation also inspired people in Helsingborg and in Arlöv to start up consumer co-operative societies. For an account of Danielsson’s agitation and role in the establishment of the consumer co- operative society PAN in Malmö see Alsterdal Alvar, Brandsyn i samhället Axel Danielsson 1863- 1899, (1963), Framtidens Förlag, pp. 345-354. 75 For accounts of this history see Redfern Percy, The Story of the C.W.S., (1913), C.W.S., Manches- ter. Redfern Percy, The New History of the C.W.S., (1938), C.W.S., Manchester. Flanagan Des- mond, 1869-1969: a Centenary Story of the Co-operative Union of Great Britain and Ireland, (1969), Co-operative Union, Manchester.

42 formed in 1863 and the Co-operative Union in 1869. By the 1870s there were thus two federal co-operative organisations in England.76 The purpose of the wholesale society was to assist member societies with bulk purchase and distribution, and later on with production. The union, on the other hand, was to provide the societies with legal advice, arbitrate in conflicts between societies, and work for the internal and external dissemination of co-operative ideas. In Sweden a co-operative union, Kooperativa Förbundet (KF), was formed in 1899. While the organisation was conceived to perform the functions of a union, there were discussions even at the founding congress as to what role and which additional tasks the organisation should have, and one of the suggestions was that it should also take care of wholesale. A few years afterwards, in 1904, KF registered as an economic society, which meant that it could run a wholesale business. The decisive step in this direction came in 1907. This year, a wholesale society in Gävle – a coastal city north of Stockholm – merged with KF's wholesale, making the latter the only co-operative wholesale society in Sweden.77 Throughout the entire period covered in this book, i.e. from 1860 to 1970, there were thus two federal national co-operative organisations in England, as opposed to one joint union and wholesale society in Sweden. Despite this difference, there are important similarities between England and Sweden in terms of the organisation of federal societies. In some countries, such as Belgium, France, and Finland, clashes between different political or religious camps have caused splits within the movement and resulted in the establishment of parallel and opposed federal organisations.78 This was neither the case in England nor in Swe-

––––––––– 76 The reason why I write England and not Britain is that in Scotland a separate wholesale society was formed in 1868. Cole, (1947), p. 148. The Scottish Wholesale Society and the CWS merged in 1973. Yeo Stephen, A Chapter in The Making of a Successful Co-operative Business: The Co- operative Wholesale Society 1973-2001, (2002), Zeebra Publishing Ltd in association with The Co- operative Group, Manchester, p. 54. 77 Aléx, (1994), p. 74. 78 In Belgium two different co-operative movements were established in the 19th century; one Social- ist and one Catholic. The Socialist Co-operative movement was part of what became known as the Belgium model, or to be more precise the Ghent model. This model implied that the co-operative bakery society, the heart of the co-operative economy in Ghent, was connected with several Mai- sons du Peuple (People’s houses) and these in their turn had a net of different working class institutions connected to them. For a good image of this model see 1885-1985 Honderd Jaar Socialisme Een Terugblik, (1985), Archief en Museum van de Socialistische Arbeidersbeweging, Ghent, illustration 42 Schema van de Socialistische organisaties in het Centrum. Politically active Socialists had supported the co-operatives in the 19th and beginning of the 20th century, and used them as “milk cow” for resources. However, when the Socialists came into power in the 1920s and 1930s, they turned to other partners and thereby weakened the position of the Socialist co-operatives. Strikwerda Carl, “’Alternative Visions’ and Working-Class Culture: The Political Economy of Consumer Cooperation in Belgium, 1860-1980”, in Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999). In France we also find one Catholic and one Socialist co-operative movement. See Furlough Ellen, “French Consumer Cooperation, 1885-1930: From the ‘Third Pillar’ of Socialism to ‘A Movement for All Consumers’”, in Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999). For the situation in Finland see: Wallén Bengt, Enighet ger styrka: En kortfattad historik över den finlandssvenska andelsrörelsens verksamhet från separationen från Pellervo till ‘återföreningen’ i en värld av genomgripande för- ändringar 1919-1999, (1999), Helsingfors.

43 den, and the fact that there was no ideologically based split-up of their federal organisations has some important consequences. The first consequence is that a unified co-operative movement makes it possible for the federals to organise each and every co-operative society in the country, which adds to the financial and organisational strength of the federal organisation. Under these conditions, moreover, a federal organisation provides a centralised forum for decision-making, information campaigns, and discussion within the movement. In other words, the absence of an ideological organisational divide helps the federal organisations to pool resources and create an inclusive infrastructure. These features no doubt makes the co-operative movement even more attractive to outside parties which perceive themselves to be close to the movement, and therefore believe themselves to be the legitimate claimants on the available organisational and financial resources. In both Britain and Sweden, however, co-operators were hesitant to bring politics into the movement. This is illustrated by the debates that preceded the Co-operative Party’s affiliation with the Labour Party in Britain, and in Sweden by the decision to create an independent co-operative union and to refrain from establishing any formal links between this union and the Social Democratic Party. Regardless of whether the co-operative movement chose to form close bonds with a particular party, or refrained from doing so, the decision lay in the hands of the co-operators. Outside groupings could not merely hi-jack the co- operative movement or local societies, but had instead to gain the support of the co-operators and work within the forums provided by the organisation itself. Thus, the sympathies of the people who join the Co-op affect the direction in which the national and local organisations develop. These similarities between Sweden and Britain are important, but they must not obscure some equally important differences. We have already hinted at one such difference, namely that England had two federal societies, whose respective functions were performed by one single organisation in Sweden. KF, the Swed- ish federal organisation, had also gained considerably more control over member societies than their British counterparts. In a roundabout way, this is reflected in the secondary literature, for while the literature on the British federals tends to focus on how member societies have kept a check on the federals, the Swedish literature generally describes how KF controlled member societies.79 Such organisational differences, in turn, shape the members' possibilities of influencing the development of their societies, as well as the societies' possibilities of influencing the development of the federal organisations. In analysing political dividing lines, it is important not to limit the investigation to the party-political landscapes in a narrow sense. Ideologically based political parties were not the sole claimants on the resources accumulated within co-operation. Politics is also generated within the co-operative forums, and the reactions to these issues do not necessarily follow party-political lines. Further- ––––––––– 79 For the situation in Sweden see Ruin, (1960), Kylebäck, (1983), (1989) and (1999), Hwang (1995). For the situation in Britain see Carr-Saunders (1938), Cole, (1947), Ostergaard and Halsey (1965) and Bonner (1970).

44 more, when the infrastructure of the federal organisations has been used to propagate certain ideas, these ideas need not even be relevant from a party- political point of view. Finally, the financial resources hoarded in individual consumer co-operative societies, and the services and organisational structure they make possible, are primarily employed to build up a business that will benefit the membership – but members may have different interests, opinions, and demands. Decisions have to be made between different ways of using these resources, and, considering the variability of member demands, these decisions are political in a wide sense. Again, there is no necessary link with party politics: even if a member is a socialist, she might well be reluctant to allow the money she has invested in the Co-op to be spent on other things than the management of co-operative business. The point of these remarks is to underline that it is an empirical question which axes structure the practical politics of consumer co-operation. One implication of this is that, if we wish to know what went on in individual societies, we must pay close attention to actual dividing lines, rather than investigate how a predefined set of political divides will work out in individual cases. We will get back to the individual societies shortly, but since the secondary literature emphasises the national level, it is instructive to remain there for a while using the existing literature as an illustration to the argument above. Next, then, we shall provide some empirical flesh to our argumentative bones, and start out with some examples from the British case. In the 19th century, British middle-class and working-class reformers were, as we have already seen, in disagreement over the aims of co-operation. This, however, was not the only dividing line. One hotly debated issue that arose from within the Co-operative movement, and which split the active co-operators and advocators of co-operation into different camps, was the status of consumer co- operatives versus that of workers' co-operatives. The establishment of England's two federal organisations brought these matters to a head. In Britain, workers' co-operatives, and their advocators, had a relatively prominent position in the Co-operative movement. It was only towards the end of the century that consumer co-operation came to dominate, both in practice and in the debate about co-operation. Among the proponents of workers' co- operatives were the Christian Socialists. The Christian Socialists, whom Peter Gurney includes among the so-called middle class reformers, were in the van- guard of co-operation in mid-19th-century Britain. They worked in Parliament for a more co-operative-friendly legislation. While their work was intended to benefit many different kinds of co-operation, they had particularly high hopes that workers' co-operatives would be successful.80 At about the same time as Christian Socialists in London were working for changes in the legal framework, other co-operators, some of whom were from the Rochdale Equitable Pioneer Society, were working for the founding of a federal co-operative wholesale society in Manchester. The CWS was established in 1863. In the 1870s this wholesale expanded its activities with manufacturing and ––––––––– 80 Cole, (1947), pp. 118-120. Gurney (1994).

45 banking. This move was not welcomed by all co-operators, one of the critics being E. V. Neale, general secretary of the Co-operative Union and Christian So- cialist. But if Neale and his allies were dissatisfied with the increasing power of the CWS, they also tried to influence the management of the expanding wholesale society. At the November quarterly meeting of the CWS in 1872 Neale, Ed- ward Greening and Dr. J. H. Rutherford persuaded the delegates to accept the principle of a bonus for labour. This meant that the workers in the CWS factories got a bonus in relation to the profit generated by the factories. J. T. W. Mitchell, the President of the CWS, who had much experience of profit-sharing in mixed workers’ and consumer co-operatives, was not pleased with the decision. Despite propaganda for more far-reaching profit-sharing by Christian Socialists, the CWS members in 1891 voted to reject the principle of profit-sharing. From then on, the leadership of the CWS favoured consumer co-operation over workers' co- operation.81 If we put this sequence of events into the framework sketched above, we will note first that the debate about the relative position of consumer co-operatives and workers' co-operatives was generated from within the co-operative movement itself. The formation of the CWS in the 1860s created an organisational resource that could be valuable to consumer and workers' co-operatives alike, but decision-making was simultaneously transferred to that same organisation. In other words, the resource itself ultimately had the power to decide how the resource should be used. We have reason to believe that CWS had managerial rather than ideological reasons for favouring consumer co-operation: consumer co-operatives were financially successful, while workers' co-operatives had often proved to be liabilities.82 The CWS line nevertheless put the organisation in opposition to such Christian Socialists as Neal and Greening, and indirectly to the Co-operative Union. It would be inappropriate, however, to give the impression that the dividing- line was drawn simply between ideals and managerialism, for the standpoint taken by the CWS was supported by such well-known social critics and intellectuals as Beatrice Potter, more known as Beatrice Webb. She saw consumer co- operation as a means of creating an all co-operative society based on co- operative economy, in other words, a co-operative commonwealth.83 Webb’s opinion about the potential of consumer co-operation would change, but that change did not imply a support for workers’ co-operatives.84 Even though workers' co-operatives were never formally excluded from the federal co-operative organisations, the effect of the emerging CWS policies made them increasingly marginalised in the Co-operative movement as such. In the beginning of the 20th ––––––––– 81 Melmoth Graham, “J. T. W. Mitchell and the Shaping of the Co-operative Wholesale Society”, in Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth, (1996), pp. 84-85. 82 See Cole, (1947), pp. 159-170. 83 Hilton Matthew, Consumerism in 20th-Century Britain, (2003), Cambridge University Press, Cam- bridge, pp. 39-40. 84 Gurney points out that Beatrice and Sidney Webb, like some other intelectualls, eventually would look down upon the work of consumer co-operation because it did not fit their more collectivist visions of the future. Gurney, (1996), pp. 1-2.

46 century, the Co-operative movement in Britain was a consumer Co-operative movement. The Swedish case is different. In the middle of the 19th century workers’ associations, or rather associations for workers, not seldom started or even run by masters or other people from middle and upper classes, initiated both workers’ and consumer societies. These workers’ co-operatives were often registered as trading companies or joint-stock companies, which made it difficult for co- operators in the following century to decide if these business ventures had been co-operatives or not. Nevertheless, the workers’ associations had their hey-days from the middle of the 19th century to the 1880s.85 By the end of the 19th century workers' co-operatives in Sweden did not have the kind of support that their counterparts in Britain had from prominent people in Parliament. When KF was formed in 1899, two out of the 44 representatives at the congress came from workers' co-operatives. In 1901 the board of KF decided that consumer co- operative societies, farmers' co-operatives and workers' co-operatives should all be able to apply for membership in KF.86 But this did not mean that the few workers’ co-operatives that joined KF had a strong position. Martin Sundell, secretary of KF between 1905 and 1910, was one of the few people within the federal organisation who also thought that KF should support the local workers' co- operatives. However, in a debate at the Co-operative Congress in 1906 on co- operative production Sundell’s line did not win. Instead it was decided that workers’ co-operatives should be incorporated into consumer co-operative societies and into KF and that both the individual consumer co-operative societies and KF should set up production co-operatives where the workers were employees and not members acting as workers.87 In 1914, the KF rules were revised, and the new rules stated that only consumer co-operatives could become members of KF.88 We are now in a position to compare how the question of consumer versus workers' co-operation developed in Britain and Sweden. Ultimately, the outcome was the same. Consumer co-operation came out on top in both countries. It was consumer co-operation that ultimately came to benefit from the resource created by the establishment of federal organisations, and the decisions to favour consumer co-operation were taken from within the resource itself. Beneath these re- semblances, however, lie differences. For instance, Sweden had one single federal organisation, performing the same tasks as its two British equivalents. So whereas differences of opinion would have to be harboured within one organisa- ––––––––– 85 Påhlman A. and Sjölin W., Arbetarföreningarna i Sverige 1850-1900, (1944), Kooperativa För- bundets Bokförlag, Stockholm. See also Jansson Torkel, Adertonhudratalets associationer. Forsk- ning och problem kring ett sprängfullt tomrum eller sammanslutningsprinciper och föreningsfor- mer mellan två samhällsformationer c:a 1800-1870, (1985), Almqvist & Wiksell International, Stockholm, pp. 196-209. 86 Aléx, (1994), p. 75. 87 Berättelse över Kooperativa förbundets sjunde kongress 1906. Hållen i Stockholm den 25-27 juni, in Berättelser över Kooperativa förbundets kongresser åren 1899-1906, (1912), Kooperativa För- bundets Förlag, Stockholm, pp. 340-342. 88 Aléx, (1994), p. 75.

47 tion in Sweden, the British solution opens up for the possibility that the advocators of opposite views are divided between the two federals. Furthermore, whereas the issue of consumer versus workers' co-operatives was hotly contested within the British Co-operative movement, and within the federal organisations, there was comparatively little debate in Sweden: in the latter country, workers' co-operatives had few advocators, and an early decision within KF barred the subsequent admission of workers' co-operatives into the federal organisation. The example above illustrates that within the co-operative movement practical and ideological divides may emerge, which do not follow classic party-political lines. Yet, party politics also matter, and a few remarks must now be made about how British and Swedish co-operators handled their political and party-political interests in relation to the aims of their federal co-operative organisations. In this respect, too, there are interesting similarities and differences between the countries in the late 19th century and in the 20th century.89 As we have already noted, it was Liberals who introduced co-operation in Sweden. It was only towards the end of the 19th century that politically organised socialists began to take an interest in the Co-operative movement, and since the Liberals had not lost interest in co-operation, there were now two potential claimants on the co-operative movement. Hence we find that, at the same time as Axel Danielsson, the Socialist, agitated for consumer co-operation in Malmö, the Liberal, middle-class reformer G. H. von Koch travelled all over Sweden to assist co-operatives in legal and formal matters. Like Geijer, G. H. von Koch had also visited England and been inspired by the success of consumer co-operation there. He, too, was a keen adherent of the Rochdale model of co-operation. Both Axel Danielsson and G. H. von Koch were instrumental in the establishment of KF. In 1899, Axel Danielsson, Axel Rylander and A. C. Lindblad, all politically active Socialists, invited 44 representatives from co-operatives – the majority from consumer co-operatives – to a congress in Stockholm. Present at the congress was also G. H. von Koch. The attendants had very different political orientations. As pointed out by Axel Pålman – later office worker at the KF secretariat, and archivist at KF between 1907 and 1948 – it attracted a mix of Lib- erals, Socialists, and free thinkers, but also a few representatives with right-wing sympathies. The initiators of the congress – i.e. Danielsson, Rylander, and Lindblad – had made a draft for the Rules of a Co-operative Union. In their version, the draft included formulations that would suit the Social Democratic Party, to which they belonged. Yet, it was decided that the draft was to be revised by a committee appointed by the congress, and the proposal that the congress finally approved was more in line with those aims which G. H. von Koch had set up for a co-operative movement. The rules, as approved in 1899, stated that the board of KF should "…make sure that the Co-operative movement develops into an organisation ––––––––– 89 It is important to point out that the selection of events in the following account is based on what is interesting from a comparative point of view. Our account is therefore not a contribution to the ongoing debate in Britain about the role of consumer co-operation in Labour politics, nor is it an attempt to initiate such a debate in Sweden.

48 working for the spread of citizen education, and for the moral and economic ele- vation of the people".90 The following year, a motion from the Arlöv co- operative society suggested that "the people" be deleted, and that "the working- class" be inserted in the paragraph. That motion was lost. Moreover, when KF's rules were revised in 1904, the entire paragraph was deleted. It was pointed out, however, that KF's secretariat should provide the co-operative societies with the information they required, give advice and spread literature.91 Despite, or because of, the attractions of co-operation for rival political camps, KF decided to abstain from a formal affiliation with any political party. The rules enacted are formulated in a sufficiently neutral way, so as not to repel substantial parts of the membership. Yet, the political tug-of-war over the federal organisation did not quite end there. A little further down the road, there was a second attempt, on the part of the party-politically organised Socialists, to establish a more formal connection between the Social Democratic Party and the Co- operative movement. In 1908, it was suggested that the newly formed Koopera- tiva Kvinnogillet (the Women's Co-operative Guild) should merge with the So- cial Democratic women’s organisation. Those in favour of the proposition pointed out that a merger would be practical, since it would reduce costs for administration, and since, in many localities, membership in the branches of these organisations coincided. Once again, the co-operative movement eventually declined the offer. The board of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet decided that the guild should be an independent organisation open to all women, not only to those who sympathised with the Social Democratic Party.92 KF and Kooperativa Kvinnogillet have remained independent co-operative organisations throughout the 20th century. In principle, then, people have been allowed and encouraged to join, regardless of their political sympathies – provided, that is, that they are democratic. This is also evident from the fact that the propaganda, which was used to recruit members, has been overtly non-political, welcoming everybody.93 It is, nevertheless, also a fact that, for the better part of the 20th century, the membership of consumer co-operative societies has often coincided with membership in the Social Democratic Party. Many co-operative

––––––––– 90 Aléx, (1994), pp. 89-70, quote p. 70, author’s translation. 91 Aléx, (1994), pp. 89-70, quote p. 70, author’s translation. 92 Ruin, (1960), pp. 142-149. The Secretary of KF, Martin Sundell, played an important role at this juncture. It was he who, having been inspired by the British example, took the initiative to form a women's guild in Sweden. He was also a member of the board of Kooperativa kvinnogillet, and was involved in the decision to keep the organisations separate from the Social Democratic women’s organisation. Aléx, (1994), pp. 101-102. 93 Aléx, (1994), p. 107. In Solidar a representative on the member council did in 1927 present a proposition that the society should have two different kinds of propaganda to recruit members. One for people from the working classes and one for people from other classes. The board did not agree and motivated their decline of the proposal by saying that a differentiated propaganda would cost much more and go against the impartial character of co-operative propaganda. Elldin Harald, Kooperativa föreningen Solidar: 50 år i samverkan, (1957), Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Malmö, p. year 1927.

49 leaders have also been active Social Democrats, engaged in local and national government.94 Danielsson, Rylander and Lindblad had thus failed in their attempt to make KF and the Co-operative movement into the formal third pillar of the Working Class movement. Yet, since the networks of consumer co-operation and Social Democracy coincided to a considerable extent, Socialists could still nourish hopes that members with Social-Democratic political sympathies would use their influence in their respective societies to benefit the political struggle of the working class. This was at least suggested by Hjalmar Branting, then a prominent So- cialist, who in 1907 became the leader of the Social Democratic Party. In 1901, shortly after the refutation of the Socialist initiative to establish formal links between the organisations, Branting published an article in the Socialdemokraten where he urged the members of individual co-operative societies to distribute the surplus of their business for the benefit of the liberation of the working class. He specifically mentioned the possibility that co-operative capital could be used to support striking workers.95 It is an important, but so far unexplored, question whether the individual local societies actually heeded Branting’s appeal. The developments in Britain took a different course. Although the principle of political and religious neutrality was a guideline for decision-making in co- operative forums, the question whether co-operators should take to politics resurfaced at the yearly co-operative congresses from the end of the 1890s. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, anti-co-operative campaigns were orchestrated by organisations of shopkeepers and wholesalers, and co-operators argued that co- operative societies should support party-politically active members and help them get into local government.96 The call for politics became more accentuated in the 1910s, particularly towards the end of the decade, when the effects of the War on the distribution of goods, and on the retail trade in general, became an affair of the State. Some societies now proposed that co-operators ought to enter party politics as co-operators, instead of handing it over to candidates in the existing parties, i.e. to Labour or Liberal candidates, to plead for their cause. At the Swansea Congress in 1917, a proposal to set up an independent co-operative party was carried by 1,979 to 201.97 The motives for co-operators to get into politics are a matter of debate in the secondary literature. When the Co-operative movement's own internal historians account for this reorientation, they have generally argued that the decision at the Swansea Congress was a reaction to exceptional circumstances, e.g. the prospect of taxation on surplus from co-operative trading. Sidney Pollard presents an al- ––––––––– 94 See Ruin, (1960), pp. 134-142. Granström Kjell O, Demokratins struktur och funktion i konsumentkooperativa föreningar, Pol.mag uppsats, Sociologiska Institutionen Lunds universitet, (1962), pp.32. 95 Ruin, (1960), p. 150. 96 As Mary Hilson has demonstrated, however, there were no guarantees that the candidates supported would actually work for the benefit of co-operative interests once they had won their seats. See Hilson, (2002), p. 12. 97 Maguire Paddy, “Co-operation and Crisis: Government, Co-operation, and Politics, 1917-1922”, in Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth, (1996), pp. 196-197.

50 ternative explanation. The decision in 1917, far from being the result of exceptional circumstances, was rather the outcome of a long process in which co- operators had gradually come to realise their class-based interests. Pollard has been criticised on this point for promoting a teleological argument, and for having only considered the opinions of a minority of prominent co-operative leaders.98 Paddy Maguire, in his studies of co-operation and politics, offers yet another view. His focus is on the conflict over the practical matters of food distribution and taxation, but he is careful to remind us of the exceptional circumstances that prevailed during the First World War, and he emphasises that the question of food distribution and tax on profits was in itself highly charged politically. In other words, his explanation combines elements from the two rival explanations, only in a more complex fashion. He admits to the importance of "exceptional circumstances", i.e. policies on food distribution and taxation in the First World War era, but, at the same time, he contends that this was in itself a politicised and politically structured issue, and sees the reactions of co-operators as indicators of continued political radicalism.99 Mary Hilson is the most recent contributor to this controversy. Hilson, too, emphasises the importance of putting the decision in 1917 into the wider context of working-class politics, of relating it to the situation created by the War and to the conflicts over consumption. Her work also demonstrates an important, and more general, point – namely that it is important to consider local and regional variability, as well as the interaction between different levels within the Co- operative movement, when we examine the role of politics in this movement.100 We will get back to Hilson's work further on, for her argument has implications for the research strategy pursued in our own study. In any case, the decision in 1917 to form a Co-operative Party marks a difference between the British and the Swedish Co-operative movements. The same holds for the aftermath and immediate history of this party formation, for in 1927 the Co-operative Party became affiliated with the Labour Party. At least part of the co-operative movement did thus establish formal links with a political party. The emerging overall picture is far from clear-cut. Despite the formal affiliation, the Co-operative Party has remained a party with its own candidates.101 More- over, Labour politics have neither been uniformly beneficial for co-operation, nor have they always been appreciated among co-operators. One issue where opinions have sometimes been divided is the question of nationalisation. Co- operators in general were sceptical of such measures, at least in the sectors of industry and trade.102 Even more importantly, association with the Co-operative Party was voluntary for the individual co-operative societies, and societies that

––––––––– 98 For a more comprehensive presentation of the different standpoints see Hilson, (2002), p. 8-9. 99 Maguire, (1996). 100 Hilson, (2002), p. 9. 101 Cole, (1947), p. 319. 102 Cole, (1947), p. 325.

51 wished to remain politically neutral were free to do so. Not all co-operative societies did in fact affiliate with the party. 103 Co-operation, then, has a complicated relation to party politics. On the one hand, political and religious neutrality is celebrated as a principal guideline. On the other hand, there are de facto links, varying in depth and extension from one country to the other, between the Co-operative movement and labour-oriented or socialist parties. Consider first the Swedish case. Both the co-operative union and Kooperativa Kvinnogillet were invited by socialists to establish close, formalised relations with the Social Democratic Party, but in both cases the invitation was turned down, and co-operation has retained its organisational independence. At the same time, there was considerable overlap in membership between co-operatives and the Social Democratic Party, which may have contributed to a perception, both among members and in the eyes of the general public, of co- operation as somehow linked with social democracy. That link was nevertheless much more feeble than in the British case. In Britain, the federal co-operative organisations did remain independent, but the founding of a Co-operative Party, which later became affiliated with the La- bour Party, made it easier to see the two movements as one. This view was indeed shared by many guildswomen, since the Women’s Co-operative Guild (WCG) had close links to the Labour Party. Other co-operators perceived this to be a problem, particularly in the Post-War period, when some branches of the WCG demanded that their members join the Labour Party. Brian Groombridge, in his study of what role the co-operative auxiliaries could play in a regeneration of the Co-operative movement, describes the rather sectarian position chosen by some guild branches, and he himself is obviously a partisan for a more moderate and politically neutral policy: What good does it do Co-operative trade to be mixed up in the public mind with the Labour Party? And yet there are militant Guildswomen who tell their friends and neighbours that it is wrong not to shop at the Co-op., because their husbands’ wages, the level of which they owe largely to trade union activity against the employing class, ought not to be spent in private enterprise shops, the retail sector of that class. Some trading officials, looking enviously at Swedish Co-operative efficiency and political neutrality, would rather have an apathetic Guildswoman than a keen one who uses such arguments.104 Groombridge's observations and judgements are instructive in several respects. In spite of the close relation – in relative terms – between the Co-operative movement and the Labour Party in Britain, Groombridge apparently thought that it would be detrimental for co-operation to be associated with Labour. He wanted the movement to refrain from involvement in party politics, and from a high- strung socialist rhetoric, so as not to deter potential members. From a comparative point of view, it is equally interesting that it is the Swedish co-operative ––––––––– 103 Cole, (1947), p. 320. 104 Groombridge, (1963), p. 38.

52 movement that is held up as a good example of political neutrality, worthy of emulation in the British context. Groombridge's picture of Swedish co-operation is perhaps idealised and over-simplified. In Sweden, too, consumer co-operation was sometimes mixed up in the public mind with social democracy.105 He is right, though, in the sense that the Swedish Co-operative movement had weaker organisational links with the Social Democratic Party. These examples suffice to underline both that party politics have played a role in the history of the Co-operative movement, and that this relation has been handled differently in different countries. What they also show is that these matters are ultimately decided within the Co-operative movement itself, and that the relation to party politics is only one of many internal organisational concerns. The federal organisations gave co-operation a very considerable scope in terms of the possibility of promoting ideas to the membership. They were, in this sense, carefully crafted amplifiers, and it was not only political parties that were attracted by this feature. The co-operative principles, as formulated by the Roch- dale Pioneers, stated that a certain proportion of the surplus should be devoted to co-operative education. As Peter Gurney has shown, this principle had its background in Owenism, and was promoted by Owenites who believed in social transformation through education.106 It provides a mechanism which ensures that co-operative societies emit a pool of resources designated for educational purposes. This is not to say that all individual societies really acted in conformity with the principle, and there are variations in this regard, but the sums set aside for educational purposes were nevertheless considerable in some societies.107 On the other hand, co-operative principles said nothing about the contents of co- operative education. It is precisely the lack of a pre-determined set of contents, in conjunction with a pool of financial resources ear-marked for education, which made co-operative education attractive to a variety of interested parties that wished to promote their ideas through co-operation. It is only to be expected that the themes of the day, the topics which flourished in society at large, will make their way into the co- operative debate. There are examples of this in both Britain and Sweden. Yet, this is not the right place to dwell upon the selection of topics in the co-operative press, even if this is an interesting question in its own right. We will proceed instead by means of illustration, and focus on how one particular issue, that of "rational housekeeping", was shaped and channelled within the British and Swedish Co-operative movements.

––––––––– 105 In an inquiry ordered by Solidar in the middle of the 1960s the question of political connection was included. Of the 348 women over 21 in Malmö that answered the questionnaire 81 per cent connected Solidar with the Social Democratic Party but only 15 per cent answered that this influenced their decision to shop or not shop in the stores of Solidar. Sellerberg Ann-Mari, Konsums image, (1966), Sociologiska Institutionen Lunds universitet, unpublished, pp. 12, 43-45. 106 Gurney Peter, “George Jacob Holyoake: Socialism, association, and co-operation in nineteenth- century England”, in New Views of Co-operation (1988), p. 57. 107 Hilson, (1998), Figure 3.3. Annual educational grant per member spent by major co-operative societies, in pence (d), p. 313

53 As for the Swedish case, this brings us back to Peder Aléx's inquiries. Aléx has showed that, between 1899 and 1939, KF had far-reaching ambitions when it came to co-operative education in economics, aesthetics and rational household management. During the first half of the 20th century, KF was instrumental in spreading books and pamphlets on political and business economics, mainly liberal and co-operative economics. In the 1910s, the organisation also picked up on an ongoing debate over aesthetics. KF invited some well-known advocators of the new aesthetic ideals to use the co-operative channels, and KF gradually became an attractive forum for the proponents of an early Swedish version of modernism. Resources were thus set aside for the purpose of co-operative education, and in order to put these funds into use, KF had to decide upon the contents of particular courses. The choice fell on giving courses in economics and aesthetics. The union invited people from outside the organisation to provide educational materials, and it is their ideas about economics and aesthetics that were diffused through KF. While KF's decision was presumably motivated by a perceived elec- tive affinity between these particular ideas and the "co-operative spirit", it simultaneously created a forum for those who had been recruited to perform these educational tasks. These people were now working inside KF, and their views were transmitted throughout the Co-operative movement. In the 1930s, a new educational campaign was launched, this time on the topic of rational household management. The ideals promoted in the rational household management campaign drew on and fused together the two older strands of thought that had come from economics and aesthetics. The idea was to encourage a more efficient management of the homes, and while this may seem to be a thoroughly economic matter, Peder Aléx has shown that aesthetic simplicity was part and parcel of KF's notion of the efficient management of the household.108 At the same time there was an upsurge of co-operative courses in home economics. By the 1930s, KF had at its disposal an internal staff of educators who designed the courses. Educational activities were also intertwined with the business side of KF. One example of this is the campaign "Lättare hemarbete" (Easier homework). Several KF departments were manufacturing products designed to make chores easier for the housewife, while simultaneously campaigning to inform the housewives how to use these products. Educational matters were built into the organisational structure of KF. Whoever wished to use the channels of co-operation to promote their ideas had better work from inside the federal organisation. But this does not mean that outsiders were entirely barred from benefiting from these organisational resources. KF was still a powerful ally for those organisations which sympathised with KF's ambitions. For example, Kooperativa Kvinnogillet (the WCG in Sweden) – as well as other, non-co-operative women's organisations – became KF's co-partners in the campaign for rational household management.109 Moreover, KF may still use their financial resources to create ––––––––– 108 Aléx, (1994), pp. 187-189. 109 Aléx, (1994), pp. 212-232.

54 and promote external organisations, provided that their work is perceived to be in line with the aims of co-operation. There is an example of this, too, in relation to rational household management, for in 1944 KF opted to become one of the sponsors of Hemmens forskningsinstitut (The Research Institute for the Home).110 The efficient management of the household was a topic also in the British Co- operative movement. To the best of my knowledge, however, there was no federal initiative to promote rational household management via co-operative education. The topic had its origin, not in the federal organisations, but in the WCG. The WCG tried to influence the federal co-operative organisations to initiate campaigns for more efficient household management, but the guild itself was split into factions on the issue. One group wanted co-operative solutions, such as co-operative laundries and restaurants; another group promoted the rival idea of wash-houses which were built by co-operatives but for the use of member households individually.111 It is about time we resume the thread, and pull together what we have gathered so far from the secondary literature. We have reviewed at some length the relation between party politics and the Co-operative movements in Sweden and Britain. Important as these relations are, however, they do not exhaust the politics of co-operation. There is also the internal political life of the co-operative movement, where the dividing lines are not necessarily relevant from a party- political point of view – as is illustrated by the tug-of-war between the respective proponents of consumer and workers' co-operatives in Britain. Such internal political divides are aggravated by, or arise from, the fact that co-operation generates organisational and financial resources that must somehow be used and distributed. One common denominator in the secondary literature that we have reviewed and synthesised above is that it focuses exclusively on the federal level. Yet, we have also seen that, by implication, this literature itself points to the importance of studying individual consumer co-operative societies in their local and regional contexts. Consider, for example, the unsuccessful attempt to establish a formal connection between Social Democracy and KF in Sweden. Hjalmar Branting's response to this defeat was an appeal to the members of individual co-operative societies to use the resources of their organisations to further socialist causes, e.g. by supporting striking workers. Whether or not this actually happened is an empirical matter that cannot be solved unless we study what went on in the local societies. Consider also the British case, where it was optional for individual societies to support the Co-operative Party. Again, we must go to the individual societies if we wish to know how this issue was dealt with on the local level. And what ––––––––– 110 Lövgren Britta, Hemarbete som politik: diskussioner om hemarbete, Sverige 1930-40-talen, och tillkomsten av Hemmens forskningsinstitut, (1993), Almqvist & Wiksell International, Stockholm, pp. 103-104 111 Thomson Alistair, "'Domestic drudgery will be a thing of the past': Co-operative women and the reform of housework", in New views of Co-operation, (1988), pp. 108-127.

55 about co-operative education? Co-operative principles may state that a certain proportion of the surplus should be devoted to education, but it does not follow that individual societies actually abided by the principles; there are indications of considerable variation in this regard. Nor does it follow that all individual societies wished, or could, use the educational resources provided by the federals. Underneath these specific questions – each implied by existing research, and each calling for studies of local, individual consumer co-operative societies – lies a more general one. The federal organisations were not alone in producing organisational and financial resources. The same holds for each consumer co- operative society, and with a pool of resources to use, manage, and distribute, internal political divides can easily arise within individual societies as well. Such divides may not only cut across party-political lines, but may also be sliced in a different manner from the internal political divides in the federal organisations. Hence, the politics of individual societies cannot be deduced from what took place on the national level. Comparatively few researchers have undertaken to examine local consumer co-operative societies in this fashion. One notable exception is Mary Hilson. Like Peter Gurney, Hilson emphasises that we should study "consumer co- operation within the conflicts generated over consumption". Yet, she criticises Gurney for playing down the local and regional variations within the Co- operative movement, and for basing the analysis of a national movement mainly on the development in the co-operative ‘heartlands’ of Yorkshire and the north- west of England.112 In her own studies of working-class politics in later 19th- and early 20th- century Plymouth, Hilson has described and analysed how working class politics formed and was formed by the working class institutions in the city. One of these institutions was the Plymouth Co-operative Society. In the debates over how the society should develop, Hilson identifies an internal party system. Candidates standing for office were identified either as a member of the White Party or the Blue Party. The Blue Party presented itself as the progressive party prioritising the efficient business management of the society. The candidates that identified with the White Party, also referred to as the Co-operative Extension League, wished to extend the limits of the co-operative activities and demonstrated in different ways their commitment to the Co-operative Commonwealth.113 Hilson's findings confirm the hypothesis that the internal political life of individual societies may generate local dividing lines, even to the point where a local party system develops. Interestingly enough, the gulf she identifies between the Blue and the White Parties is reminiscent of a debate that we have already dealt with in the previous paragraph. The opposition between the two parties contains elements from the conflict between business efficiency and democratic decision- making. If we consider local societies as a collection of organisational and financial resources, we may expect members to have different opinions about how these ––––––––– 112 Hilson, (2002), p. 9. 113 Hilson, (1998), p. 108.

56 should be used. In the case of Hilson's Plymouth Society, some members were concerned with securing the long-term solidity of the society, while others were concerned with extending co-operation to as many people as possible, and these potentially contradictory standpoints crystallised into local parties. This was not a mere reflection of federal-level politics. Nor are we dealing with a traditional party-political issue, transplanted into a local setting. Hilson's studies of the debates in the Plymouth Society provide evidence that other types of conflicting interests were also articulated in that local setting. She shows that the membership was divided along these lines as well, and that the resulting sub-groups raised separate claims on the use and distribution of the organisational and financial resources of the society. Hence, a variety of axes structured the internal politics of the local organisation. For instance, the interests of men were not necessarily the same as those of women, and there were differences of interest between married and unmarried women. Some women were even bold enough to suggest that their point of view served co-operation better, since their male co-members were too entangled in party politics to see clearly what was in the interest of co-operation: the traditional political allegiances of male co-operators, it was argued, was an obstacle to the “fusion of forces”, i.e. the fusion of male wage earners’ interests and the interest of women as housewives and wage spenders.114 In sum, then, Hilson's inquiries amply show that there are internal politics of individual consumer co-operative societies. On the local level, too, the organisation must somehow use and distribute the resources it has generated, and the choices made may suit the interests and opinions of one part of the membership better than another. The problem is thus the same as on the federal level. Yet, individual societies are not identical micro-copies of the federal organisations, nor can we understand the federal organisations as local societies writ large. We must be alive to the possibility that the contents and discontents of local consumer co-operation can vary from one society to another, that it can differ from issues that are salient on the national level, and can cut across party-political lines. Some important consequences can be derived from this insight. If we want to know which dividing lines predominate in a consumer co-operative society, and how this has shaped the development of the society, we need to study which interests and opinions are actually articulated in the local context. From this perspective, it is not sufficient to say that there are objective interests vested within the membership, and then go on to investigate whether these interests received proper representation. Gender is a case in point. There is a considerable literature on this topic. It has shown that female and male co-operators had different opportunities to shape the politics of co-operation, and to use the collective resources of co-operation. It also shows that women and men were portrayed differently in the co-operative propaganda.115 While these matters are important in ––––––––– 114 Hilson, (2002), p. 19. 115 Gillian Scott and Barbara Blaszak, in their studies of the Women’s Co-operative Guild (WCG) in Britain, have identified the ways in which female co-operators on the one hand built up an inde-

57 their own right, they will enter the current study only on condition that they have been articulated or otherwise brought up on the agenda in the local societies. There is a plethora of potential dividing lines, and of group interests, but only the ones that are articulated within the local organisation will exert an influence on its development. In this paragraph, I have reviewed and synthesised the secondary literature on the contents and discontents of co-operative politics. A variety of inquiries have been brought together under the overarching concept of "resources", which in turn has allowed us to work with a broad definition of internal co-operative politics. The decision to use such an encompassing concept of politics is not intended to artificially play down the importance of members' ideological beliefs, political affiliations, gender or class issues, etc. On the contrary, it is an attempt to provide a sufficiently broad conceptual framework for an empirical description of how the membership proceeded to lay claims on organisational resources.

4. Questions, Method and the Plan of the Book Our account so far has dealt with the secondary literature in Britain and Sweden. We have reviewed the themes and periods that are emphasised in these two bodies of literature, and we have done so with an eye to how questions of consumer demand, democratic forms, the character of participation and political contents are interrelated in the case of consumer co-operation. The overview of the secondary literature has indicated that we should refine our initial question, i.e. how two strong consumer co-operative societies – in Malmö and Newcastle – coped

pendent co-operative organisation for women, on the other hand tried to gain influence within the Co-operative movement as a whole. The co-operative propaganda displayed “The Woman with the Basket” implying that women, the housewives who shopped in the co-op stores, had the power to control consumption and thereby control production. Scott and Balszak show that women who wanted more than "basket power" had great difficulties in reaching positions of power in the Co- operative movement and in getting their issues on the agenda. See Scott, (1998). Blaszak, (2000) see also Southern, (1996). In Sweden too “basket power” turned out to mean little in reality. Com- plaints about and suggestions for service and products emanating from women, mainly women in the guilds, were met with little or no interest in management committees. The women who started the first only women’s co-operative in Sweden called Svenska Hem noticed this, too, when in 1917 they amalgamated with the largest co-operative society in Stockholm. The seats on the board of Konsumtionsföreningen Stockholm they gained initially, they soon lost. Their experience of running a successful co-operative business was not used in any way. Other women taking initiatives and working within KF noticed the same thing. According to Brita Åkerman the reorganisation of Husmodersavdelningen (The Housewife Department) and Provköket (the Test Kitchen) in 1961 resulted in the ending of collaboration between these departments and Kooperativa Kvinnogillet (the Women’s Co-operative Guild in Sweden). The potential of empowering women within the movement and re-creating the spirit of Svenska Hem had then, in the eyes of Åkerman, gone astray. Jon- nergård et al, (1984), Praktikfall 6: Kooperatörer – kvinnor – konsumenter, pp. 262-265. For more literature on the conditions for and images of female co-operators in Sweden see Millbourn, (1976) and (1982), Aléx (1994) and Bergström Cecilia, A Female Cooperative Perspective on Power, In- fluence and Ownership, (1994), Företagsekonomiska institutionen, Stockholms universitet.

58 with changes in consumption patterns and in the retail sector during the Post- War period. For although this question is tied into existing explanations of the fate of specific national consumer co-operation, these explanations, in turn, are cast in terms that necessitate both a longer time perspective and attention to how members interacted with their societies on the local level. What happens during the Post-War period is significantly shaped by the organisational structure of co-operation in previous decades, and by the successive transformations of this structure. In order to capture this we need to study organisations up close and the interaction between members and their society. How was consumer demand channelled in the local societies, and what was the nature of these demands? Furthermore, how have these demands and the opportunities to express them, changed throughout the period studied? Given that there are changes in these or other regards, how do they relate to democratic forms, to the interaction between business operations and democratic structure, and to successive changes in this constellation over time? And what about the character of participation: what kinds of activities were deemed as participation in the development of the two co-operative societies studied? What were the demands on the co-operative resources and how did the distribution of resources generated through the co-operative businesses turn out? Finally, how did all this help shape the political divisions – in a wide sense – within the respective organisations, and what were the repercussions of these external and internal member interests on business operations and democratic forms? The joint omissions and findings in the secondary literature, then, add up to a new point of departure from which to rephrase the original question. How these questions relate to and are reflected in the outline of the book will be presented shortly. Before doing so, however, we will make a few remarks on the process that led up to their formulation. For even if our questions are distilled from an overview of the secondary literature, it would be improper to give the impression that they were arrived at in a deductive fashion. On the contrary, they are the result of going back and forth in a complex manner between empirical data and the possible conceptual frameworks that could make sense out of them. The following paragraph is thus an attempt to give the reader a brief glimpse of what has 'gone on behind the scenes', i.e. the process of casing.

4.1 Reflections on the process of casing As the reader may recall, my original intention was to launch a comparative analysis of two consumer co-operative societies. This ambition has remained constant, but much else has been in flux during the research process. I believe that, in this respect, my work experiences reflect some fairly general properties of the comparative case study. And for this reason, it would appear instructive to review the process as it actually unfolded. Even if the original question has been revised and refined along the way, it has played a crucial part in shaping the investigation. Without an initial question the researcher simply does not know what to look for. Every detail would appear equally interesting, hence also equally uninteresting. There would be a huge amount of data but no cases, for empirical entities only become cases when they

59 are construed as evidence of something. Another way of putting it is to say that a case must be a case of something, and that cases are constructed by the researcher.116 The initial research question served this purpose: it provided a rationale for selecting two specific consumer co-operative societies, for construing them as cases of "strong societies in two different countries", and for inquiring how they dealt with changes in the Post-War retail market. Not only did I now have two concrete empirical entities to investigate, I was also directed to a particular type of data source. In order to glean information about the coping strategies of my two societies, I had to follow what happened on the inside of the organisations – and the best way to do so was to read minutes. In declaring my empirical entities to be cases of the management of retail sector changes after 1945, I had simultaneously manufactured an instrument of selection. But as Charles Ragin has pointed out, declaring your empirical entities to be cases of something is typically not done once and for all in a comparative case study. It is rather a routine and recurrent activity, for which Ragin has proposed the term "casing". According to Ragin, the case study proceeds by constantly, but particularly in the first and last phases of inquiry, redefining what the cases are cases of. He speaks of a continuing dialogue between ideas and evidence, between fact and theory.117 Howard Becker presents a similar argument, noting that there is an inherent tension between the wealth and complexity of data and the strict selection principles provided by any theoretical apparatus.118 Becker's formulation gives an idea of what drives the case study researcher from one "casing" to the next. Each case is a complex whole and in order to understand what is going on in it, the researcher is forced to pay attention to factors that are important and relevant to the case at hand, regardless of whether they fit into the researcher's original ideas. If the complexity of the case does not fit the researcher's initial questions and ideas – and they rarely do – then they must be refined and revised. Yet, altering the ideas and questions, which has so far guided the investigation, brings about a change in the relation between evidence and ideas. The same data that was necessary, and deemed sufficient, for answering the original question may neither be relevant nor sufficient for the revised one. The researcher is sent back to the field to obtain new answers, and a new process of casing is initiated. Ragin's and Becker's description roughly captures my own trajectory. My original research question endowed me with two empirical entities, two cases, and suggested that material in the form of minutes would be a suitable body of data to work with. Once I had begun the time-consuming work of sifting through the minute books, however, new aspects surfaced that refused to be subjugated under my research question. I was engaged in a learning process where I not only

––––––––– 116 What is a Case? Exploring the Foundations of Social Inquiry, (1992), Eds. Ragin Charles C. and Becker Howard S., Cambridge University Press, Melbourne. 117 Ragin Charles C., “’Casing’ and the process of social inquiry”, in What is a Case? (1992), pp. 217-227. 118 Becker Howard, Tricks of the Trade: How to Think about your Research while you’re Doing it, (1998), Chicago University Press, Chicago.

60 had to reconstruct significant events in the history of the two societies, but also had to figure out the workings of consumer co-operation. At times I was drawn into the complexities of my cases, lost track of the original question, and was far from clear as to what my empirical entities were cases of. The fact that my investigation was designed as a comparative study was both a help and a hindrance in this respect. It helped me in the sense that the contrastive comparison of the two societies continuously generated novel ideas that could serve as new casings. Similarly, contrasting the topics and ideas in the Swedish and British secondary literatures on co-operation gave rise to other possible casings. On the other hand, the sheer wealth of possible frameworks that kept imposing themselves upon the investigation was itself a source of trouble. Each attempted casing sent me off gathering new kinds of data, and looking at new aspects in the old data set, but this new information again lost its relevance in the light of the next casing. I presume that it is a common experience – or, perhaps more adequately, a common grief – among researchers that a substantial part of the materials they have gathered simply will not fit the framework and must be left out. Yet, the constant working back-and-forth between two empirical cases, and between two bodies of literature, has tended to accelerate the ac- cumulation of new frameworks. There seemed to be no end to the possible casings, and thus the inquiry could go on indefinitely. What turned my focus away from the original question was a growing sense that my cases differed in unexpected ways. There were significant differences between the two societies in terms of the expansion of co-operative business. Moreover, they were organised differently and had different democratic forms. Above all, I realised that it was impossible to understand what happened in the post-1945 period without any knowledge of how the two societies had developed up until that period. This resulted in a gradual shift away from specific developments in the organisational environment to the internal workings of consumer co-operation. It also shifted the emphasis from an exclusive focus on the Post- War period to a more evenly spread interest in the long-term development of each society. Only towards the very end of the inquiry, as I faced the task of writing up the thesis, did the framework finally crystallise. To break the deadlock of consecutive casings, it was necessary to return to the minutes. Questions of how to raise and use co-operative capital and how to distribute the surplus of the business activity clearly dominated at member and board meetings, and the preoccupation with such decisions and practices was too conspicuous to be left out of the account. Instead of trying to force these issues into the mould of my initial question, or into any other established framework in the secondary literature, I decided to make them the centre-piece and organising principle of the book. Such a formulation would have the benefit of remaining close to the material, while at the same time being sufficiently abstract to accommodate a considerable variety of practices and opinions. The next task was to re-read, orchestrate and synthe- sise the secondary literatures to pave the way for the inquiry. The result of this effort has already been presented in the chapter above. The last step, logically if not temporally, is to let the framework and questions – arrived at in the preceding paragraphs – organise the parts and chapters in the remainder of the book.

61 4.2 The Plan of the Book Up to this point, I have concentrated on refining the original research question, and on some methodological considerations connected with the process of casing. The account of the secondary literatures has left a trail of questions. A few words must now be said about how they relate to the structure of the book. Let it be noted at the outset that the questions will not be dealt with in a piecemeal fashion. The book has a thematic structure, and the themes do not mirror the pro- gression of successive questions as they are brought up in the analysis of the secondary literature. Rather, we will take the entire set of questions as an ensemble, and ask what general perspective they suggest for a historical comparative case-study of consumer co-operative societies in Britain and Sweden. There is a need for studies of local consumer co-operative societies, especially studies that range over an extended period of time. The omissions and findings in the secondary literatures also indicate that it would be a promising strategy to investigate the interface between member and society. There is interaction between the build-up, use, and distribution of co-operative resources, and the membership plays a crucial role in shaping that interaction. They express their wishes, not only by shopping at the Co-op, but also by participating in a democratic process. The local organisation, in turn, determines the scope of member participation, both by its rules and regulations, which specify what you have to do and know in order to participate, and through the organisational inertia created by previous decisions and investments. If we want to understand the development of local societies, we should try to capture the interplay over time between business development, member demands, and democratic forms. The book is made up of five parts. The first part serves the purpose of laying the groundwork for parts to come. Its remaining chapters will be devoted to clarifying some terminological issues, presenting the source material, and sketch- ing a few important similarities and differences between Britain and Sweden and between Newcastle and Malmö. The latter is not to be conceived as a complete background, nor as a delimitation of relevant contexts. Its function is merely to set the introductory stage, i.e. to give a sense of place and provide a backdrop for the more specific backgrounds and contexts that will be introduced as we go along. Part two focuses on the co-operative retail services. It outlines the kind and extent of services that are gradually built up in the two societies. It describes the visible traces of decision-making processes: we learn about the results of successive decisions made within the societies, the introduction or termination of services, and changes in trading practice. In doing so, it also introduces the reader to the Newcastle Society and to Solidar. We get to follow the building up of co- operative retail services, and of a business organisation that demanded that more and more of the co-operative capital should be maintained to keep up with changes in distribution and sale techniques. Apart from providing a descriptive account of evolving services, it also gives a sense of the path dependency that results from previous investments and commitments. Besides this it also includes sections on the rights and duties of members in relation to their role as customers and on the subject of credit trade.

62 In Part Three we enter the meeting hall(s) to learn more about the decision- making process, and about the parties involved in this process. Much attention is given to changes in the formal rules, and to how the rules affected the members' possibilities to take part in this process. However, the importance of formal rules should not obscure the fact that members did not always act in accordance with them. In addition, the informal order also influenced the decision-making process in the two societies. An attempt is therefore made to address how group interests – and prominent members and employees – shaped the meeting practice and influenced the process. Co-operative forums, a concept that will be explained in section 4.3 below, play a dual role in this connection. They provided a setting where group interests could be shaped and articulated, but they were also institutions where members had the opportunity to learn more about co-operation and develop their skills in taking part in the process of making decisions. Part Four draws on the previous results, but concentrates even more explicitly on the interface between the members and their societies. It starts out by charting members' economic participation, and how this contributed to the financial base of their respective society. In this connection, we also discuss how the capital was administered, and inquire into the relation between the economies of the member households and the economy of the society. The discussion then moves on to what may be called the contents and discontents of internal co-operative politics, reviewing the internal debates over the distribution of surplus. Finally we analyse the operation of a co-operative mechanism for channelling consumer demand. We do so by returning to the issue of services, only this time the focus is on members' demands and suggestions with regard to the development of co- operative services. The bulk of empirical findings are reported in parts two to four. These parts concentrate on themes, and they do it in such a way that it is possible to preserve a holistic view of my two cases. Within each theme, the societies are presented separately, and the discussion mainly proceeds chronologically. In contrast, Part Five has a somewhat more synthesising and analytic focus. It pulls together the threads from the earlier parts in a few conclusions. At this point, and on the basis of these conclusions, it is possible to address the specific questions generated in the discussion of the secondary literature. We can see how, and in what ways, a cross-national comparative study of the interface between members and their societies contributes to the body of research on the fate of consumer co-operation. The last section in Part Five offers an analysis of organisational logics and provides an interpretive framework for future studies of co-operative organisation.

4.3 Conceptual issues There is one additional issue that must be considered before we commence our journey into the source material and what it can tell us. One of the problems of cross-national comparative studies is that similar phenomena can be conceptual- ised differently in the different national bodies of secondary literature. The same problem may reappear in the source material itself: the same phenomenon may be termed differently, the same term may be used about different phenomena, and a phenomenon in one country may lack an equivalent in the other.

63 These potential problems have not gone unnoticed in the literature. Marc Bloch addressed them in the essay “Toward a Comparative History of European Societies”. Bloch proposed that scholars should work for a standardisation of historical terms, above all the terms invented by historians studying local history. Such a standardisation, he thought, would make it easier to initiate comparative studies. On the less programmatic side, however, Bloch's own study of the enclosure movement in England and France shows that the lack of terminological agreement over national borders may sometimes prove to be a source of discovery. In England, enclosures are still visible in the landscape. This is not the case in France, where the phenomenon passed into oblivion without leaving any traces either in the landscape or in the language. Yet, Bloch's studies of the workings of an enclosure movement in England, in combination with his famili- arity with French history and source material, made it possible to transfer the concept to a French setting and identify the same kind of social process in France. The comparative approach thus induced him to look for a social process which had remained inconspicuous to domestic historians.119 Admittedly, Marc Bloch's idea to standardise historical terms and concepts was ill conceived. The same type of strategy has been suggested for, and tested in, the social sciences, and has remained remarkably unsuccessful.120 The main reason for this is that social scientists and historians develop concepts to fit the needs of specific inquiries, resulting in an organic growth of conceptual innova- tions. No legislative power can determine what concepts researchers will use, and the attempt to do so may only impoverish historical and social thought. What is important here, however, is not that Bloch came up with the wrong remedy, but that he saw the problem in the first place. John Breuilly has suggested a more viable strategy to deal with the same problem. If we cannot dispense with the problem of different terminologies, we should at least be vigilant about it, and make it a topic for ongoing discussion among scholars engaged in comparative work. Breuilly's study of Labour and Liberalism in 19th-century Europe – mainly concerning the situation in England, Germany and France – demonstrates how differences in national research traditions can give rise to different understandings even of such well-known and wide-spread concepts as liberalism and socialism: An historian of British liberalism may focus on the concern with classical political economy and the limitation of state power. An historian of Ger- man liberalism, on the other hand, may rather focus upon the concern to enforce the rule of law upon the operation of the state.121 The conceptual problems and prospects offered by different national research traditions present a challenge to any comparative study. My lengthy discussion of the secondary literatures has partly been construed in response to them. By ––––––––– 119 Bloch, (1953). 120 Eriksson Björn, Praktiker, värden, vägval: två diskussioner kring sociologins och socialvetenska- pens metodologiska praktiker, (1997), Carlsson, Stockholm, pp. 56-57. 121 Breuilly, (1992), p. 2.

64 consciously juxtaposing the perspectives in the respective literatures, I have tried to reap the benefits and minimise the dangers of national differences in conceptualisation. It is up to the reader to judge whether, and to what extent, I have succeeded. This, however, does not prevent terminological diversity from reappearing in the objects under study. Language and culture are intertwined, and cross-case differences in organisation and culture are likely to result in corresponding terminological differences. Indeed, such differences may tell us something about contexts, and the work on deciphering them can thus contribute to the inquiry. In my own investigation, the work with unwinding, capturing, and finding suitable ways of translating case-specific terms has certainly contributed to the process of analysing the workings of consumer co-operation. Instead of going into this particular context of discovery, I will concentrate on eliminating a couple of possible confusions over the terms used in the book. Some phenomena and institutions in the Swedish material have no equivalents – and therefore no equivalent terms – in England, and vice versa. First of all, my choice to use the term "consumer co-operative societies" needs to be explained. The terms "co-operative retail society" and "retail society" are frequently used by scholars writing in English. The most commonly used Swed- ish terms are konsumentkooperativ förening (“consumer co-operative society”) or konsumentförening (“consumer society”). Since the so-called co-operative retail societies were engaged in so many more activities than the retail trade, I have found the English terms misleading. This is why the consumer co-operative society concept is used throughout the book: the term clarifies the organisational status of the societies, but does not strictly define the area within which they operate. Similarly, I consistently use the term "workers' co-operative" to refer to a co- operative that is owned and run by those who work in it. Other terminological conundrums have appeared along the way. A closer look at the source material showed that there was sometimes no Swedish equivalent of a British co-operative institution or practice, and vice versa. Part of the problem is linguistic, and, to that extent, so is its solution. Depending on the nature of the case, I have sometimes translated the Swedish term into English, and sometimes chosen to define it and continue to use the Swedish term. But it is not a purely linguistic problem, for such terminological differences are reflections of genuine organisational differences. In this respect, they are not only a nuisance, but also indicators of those organisational differences that we set out to study. Terminological difficulties of this order, then, can be treated as the outward signs of different patterns of organisational evolution. They have a heuristic value, and are part of the context of discovery. One special case deserves to be mentioned. Consider the term "auxiliary organisation". It is used within British co-operation to refer to the co-operative guilds, children’s and youth organisations. In other words, it denotes a set of organisations which is not strictly a part of the core organisation, but is rather connected and auxiliary to it. The term has no Swedish equivalent, however. To be sure, there are guilds, etc. in Sweden as well, but there is no encompassing term for them. Instead of merely transferring the English term to the Swedish case,

65 and use it as shorthand for the Swedish organisations as well, it is instructive to ask what the absence of such a term signifies. Let us start out with the connotations of "auxiliaries". This is obviously a term that comes from the inside of consumer co-operation, not from the so-called "auxiliaries" themselves. It is talk from a position. And that is just the catch. The representatives of federal and individual co-operative societies may indeed have counted on the "auxiliary" organisations for good support, but the minutes and correspondence reveal that the relationship between, for example, guilds and consumer co-operative societies was much more complex. Thus, by taking over the "talk of the field", a researcher may unwittingly incorporate blind spots in the analytical apparatus. As we have already pointed out in another connection, our perception of the field becomes skewed if our understanding of it is partially imported from some of its actors. The point is this: linguistic differences of this type induce the researcher to question specific terms, thus making the talk of the field more visible. The term "auxiliary organisations" has crystallised in Britain, and is absent in Sweden. We must be careful when we interpret this national difference. The conclusion in this case should not be that there was no position-bound perception of the "auxiliary organisations" in Sweden. Gathering from what representatives of KF and Swedish consumer co-operative societies have written and said about these organisations, they too apparently perceived of them as auxiliary. A case could even be made that the "auxiliaries" were more prominent, and more recognised, in Britain than in Sweden. What it does mean, however, is that we should pay attention to the different roles played by this set of organisations. For all these reasons, we do better to abandon the term "auxiliary organisations". The alternative path is to replace it with a consciously manufactured analytical concept. The concept we are looking for should preserve the notion that this set of organisations shares a common relation to co-operative societies, at least from the latter's point of view, but avoid the analytical restriction that comes from accepting a ready-made perception of them. So what else do these organisations have in common? It is indeed important that they are all connected, but not identical, with the co-operative societies. They are places where particular segments of the membership come together and interact repeatedly and for prolonged periods of time. They perform the function of co-operative forums: places where you could learn the workings of co-operation, its rules and culture; places where you could discuss and quarrel, mobilise or be mobilised, articulate group interests or just have a good time. In other words, these forums could perform an auxiliary function in relation to the co-operative societies, but it is just as likely that they could develop into not-so-docile pressure groups. We thus arrive at a more analytical concept, co-operative forums, which has a role to play in the argument I make in the remaining parts of the book. The concept is not necessarily limited to those organisations which are labelled "auxiliaries" in the British context. Any organisation, group or institution that performs this function belongs to the class of co-operative forums. The example serves two purposes. On the one hand, it introduces a concept that we will work with in parts to come. On the other hand, it sheds light on an additional feature of the comparative approach. Comparison brings out organisationally driven linguistic

66 diversity, and creates a productive estrangement vis-à-vis common-sense notions embedded in the vocabularies of the field. In some cases, it can spark off the analytical imagination and force the researcher to rethink and conceptualise.

5. Meetings and minutes – possibilities and limitations in the source material One important task remains before we can begin the historical narrative. We must present and assess the source materials which have been employed in the construction of the respective histories of our two consumer co-operative societies. That is the topic of this paragraph. It presents the source materials, discusses the access to and extent of the material, and clarifies what the material can and cannot reveal. Last but not least, it probes the reliability of the sources. The title of the paragraph also deserves a comment. It refers to the main sources used in the study, namely minutes from member meetings in the Newcastle Society and Solidar. But it also hints at another valuable source of information, namely the meetings I have had with co-operators throughout the period of research. Searching for source material has been one of the challenging tasks in this project. Bill Lancaster and Paddy Maguire have suggested that British historians prefer to study centralised organisations, since they usually have central archives where their material is neatly organised.122 However, a student of consumer co- operative societies is not so lucky. This is due to the federal structure of consumer co-operation. Although there are central archives in both Britain and Swe- den, much material resides elsewhere. A substantial part of the materials is kept in local archives, or in boxes in the cellar of the society or of a former officer in a society. One practical implication of this is that, during the course of research, I have travelled a great deal between archives in Sweden and Britain. Part of the material used in the study can be found in public archives, and this part has been organised and sorted. But another subset of the material has been saved in the archives of the two societies, in varying degrees of organisation. Thus, when I set out to study Solidar in 1998, I had to organise the society's archive myself. The general office of the society had recently moved, and the material had been packed into boxes. Although it was a relief that the material had been saved, it was not all kept in one place and it was not organised.123 The situa- ––––––––– 122 Lancaster Bill and Maguire Paddy, “The Cooperative Movement in Historical Perspective”, in Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth, (1996), p. 4. 123 In the Spring of 1996 Konsumentföreningen Solidar moved to a new office. A lot of material from the General Office Archive was sent to a central depot in Borlänge, but part of the material was packed into boxes and placed in the cellar of the new general office. The chief executive in 1996 Maria Walter and her successor Anita Rengland had made sure that the greater part of Solidar’s archive material ended up in the new office. In the summer of 1998 I unpacked and sorted this material but lacking the knowledge of an archivist the material has not been catalogued and systemised in a clear and functional order. This means that I have usually found new material visiting this archive. Henry Tornerot, a member of Solidar, helped me organising the books and photographs. Mi- nutes from guild meetings and other co-operative groups have been deposited in other archives such

67 tion was better in the case of the Newcastle Society. The lion's share of the material had been deposited in public archives, and a considerable amount of additional material had been set up in an archive in the office of the society in Gates- head by a former director and by the employees in the Public Relations Depart- ment of the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society.124 Setting up and organising Solidar's archive, then, was one of the conditions for gaining access to the material. Similar problems have emerged on the way. Both KF’s archives and the National Co-operative Archive in Britain has moved twice during the research period. This means that I sometimes have had difficulties in getting hold of the material I wanted to look at. But archivists at KF and The National Co-operative Archive, have been very helpful, and in those cases where I have known what I have been looking for, they have found it for me. The main sources used in this study are minutes. They are first and foremost minutes from member meetings in the Newcastle Society and Solidar, but also from the co-operative society Seger in Malmö. Kooperativa Föreningen Seger was one of the co-operative societies in Malmö that amalgamated with Solidar in 1925. In order to give an overview over the main source materials used in the current study, I have summarised them in the table below. Table 1. Overview of the minutes from member meetings, dates, archives and other comments Kind of Minutes Interval of Archives where Comments, i.e. missing periods years filed the minutes are in minutes and characteristics of in archives kept sources. Minutes Quarterly 1862-1970 The Tyne and Wear Minutes from 1860 to 1886 mixed General Member (1860-1970) Archive, Newcastle with minutes from board meetings in Meeting, Newcas- 13 separate minute books. Minutes are tle Society missing July 1869 to October 1872, January 1874 to July 1876, September 1880 to March 1882, May 1916 to November 1917 and February 1919 to February 1923. Minutes written by hand and between four to ten pages long between 1862 and 1952. Minutes Half 1961-1969 The Tyne and Wear No laps in interval. All minutes writ- Yearly General (1961-1969) Archive, Newcastle ten on typewriter, between two and Member Meeting, four pages. Newcastle Society Minutes Annual 1970 The Tyne and Wear No laps in interval. All minutes writ- General Member (1970) Archive, Newcastle ten on typewriter, between two and

as Arbetarrörelsens Arkiv in Malmö and KF arkiv in Stockholm, which has implied a lot of travelling. 124 All minutes from the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society have been deposited in the Tyne & Wear Archive in Newcastle. Additional material about this society and other societies in the region has been collected in an archive in the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society’s office in Jackson Street. This collection has been created through the eager and extensive effort of Jim Lamb, a former director in the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society and the North East Co-operative Society. Without Lamb’s efforts and the employees in the Public Relation Member Education Office of the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society there would not be any source material to study.

68 Meeting, Newcas- four pages. tle Society Minutes General 1905-1925 Konsumentföreningen No laps in interval. All minutes writ- Member Mee- (1905-1925) Solidar's archive ten by hand and between four and tings, Seger eight pages. Minutes General 1907-1925 Konsumentföreningen No laps in interval. All minutes writ- Member Meet- (1907-1925) Solidar's archive ten by hand and between four and ings, Solidar eight pages. Minutes District 1925-1964 Konsumentföreningen Minutes from 1947 missing and no Member Meet- (1925-still in Solidar's archive exact dates on minutes in 1962. Min- ings, Solidar practice) utes between written by hand and between four and six pages long 1925 and the 1940s (varies between districts). Minutes Member 1937-1966 Konsumentföreningen No laps in interval. All minutes witten Council, Solidar (1925-1966) Solidar's archive by hand and between five and ten pages. Minutes Annual 1927-1940, Konsumentföreningen No laps in interval. All minutes witten Society Meeting, 1974-1979 Solidar's archive by hand and between four and eight Solidar (1925-still in pages. practice) Years within parentheses illustrate the interval of years that the different meetings existed. I have read all the minutes from member meetings of Solidar (1908-1925) and Seger (1908-1925), the minutes from the district meetings (1925-1964) and from the annual society meeting (1927-1940)125. The minutes from the member council of Solidar are in general very long and comprehensive and due to lack of time I have only examined minutes in detail when I have looked for a particular debate initiated at one or several district meetings. Information about the district meetings between 1965 and 1970 is gathered from enclosures to the board minutes. When it comes to the Newcastle Society I have read all minutes from member meetings between 1886 and 1970. Minutes from quarterly meetings before 1886 are, as pointed out in the comment column above, inserted in the minute books along with minutes from the board meetings. In the case of minutes from member meetings 1862 to 1886 I have used a chronological register to make a selection. This register, constructed by Mr Jim Lamb, has been useful in other regards as well – particularly in the early phases of research, when I was struggling to get an overview of the overall development of the Newcastle Society from 1860 to 1970. Mr Lamb is a former director of the Newcastle Society and of the North Eastern Co-operative Society. In the middle of the 1990s, he examined all minute books of the Newcastle Society as well as minutes from many more societies that came to make up the regional society the North Eastern Co-operative Soci- ety in 1970. One result of this work is the book The People’s Store: A Guide To ––––––––– 125 Because of an ad hoc method of sorting the archive material in 1996 when Solidar moved to a new registered office it is likely that the minute books with minutes from the annual society meetings between 1940 and 1974 ended up in the depot in Borlänge. They have at least not been found in the archive I set up in the cellar of Solidar. Too late in the process of research I was informed that there might be possibilities of going through the unsorted material sent to Borlänge. This means that I have had to turn to the minutes of the board in the cases I have needed to know if the demands of the members after 1940 had any influence on the development of Solidar.

69 The North Eastern Co-op’s Family Tree. Another result is Mr Lamb’s chronological register over entries in the minutes from 1860 to 1970, which is kept in the files of the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Archive in Gateshead. Since I rely on Mr Lamb's register for part of my investigation, a few words should be said about its nature status. Mr Lamb is a former director, and it is natural that his position has guided the survey of the minutes. Examination shows, however, that this has neither affected the scope nor the reliability of the register. His selection of entries is wide, and is organised after years and sometimes months. This feature has made it possible to go through the minutes in a more efficient way. Every checked entry has turned out to be correct. Apart from supplying the register, Mr Lamb has also been kind enough to personally assist me with checking up the exact dates for certain events at times when I have been in Sweden and thus unable to look for them myself. He has also assisted me when I have needed help with interpreting posts in the balance sheets. To get a fuller picture of the discussions at member meetings I have also turned to minutes from board meetings (both societies) and some sub- committees (Newcastle), but then only to find out more about themes or particular questions found in minutes from member meetings. Additionally, I have looked at minutes from branches of the WCG in Newcastle and branches of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet (the women’s co-operative guild in Sweden) in Malmö, The Educational Fellowship in Newcastle and Kooperativa Kamrat Kretsen (The Co-operative Comrade Circle) in Malmö. In some cases, e.g. the minutes from board meetings, these minutes are very comprehensive, while in other cases there are no full series. Within the limits of this project, it would not have been possible to go through all this material. I have therefore only used it to follow up certain discussions initiated at member meetings, or to find the background to these discussions. In the case of the minutes from the two women’s guilds, I have looked at between four and six minutes from meetings every tenth year to determine if and how procedures might have changed. Other data sources are annual reports, balance sheets and co-operative statistics.126 I have also drawn on the different versions of rules from Solidar (1916, 1920, 1925, 1932, 1937, 1952 and 1970), and from the Newcastle Society (1905, 1946, 1963 and 1968), as well as standing orders (Newcastle 1902). The rules that I have found were in general kept in local archives, and there were considerable gaps between different editions. It is particularly unfortunate that the first available rules of the Newcastle Society date from 1905, i.e. 44 years from the founding year of the society.127 Earlier versions have not survived the successive reorganisations of the archives. ––––––––– 126 In both Britain and Sweden the Co-operative Union’s collected statistics from the consumer co- operative societies. In Sweden, statistics on co-operative ventures was also been collected by Kun- gliga Socialstyrelsen (The Royal Board of Health and Welfare) in the beginning of the 20th century. 127 Neither the National Co-operative Archive in Manchester nor the Financial Services Authority (FSA), which took over the archive of the Registrar of Industrial and Providence societies, have any copies of the Newcastle Societies' rules. The FSA have weeded out much of the material on friendly societies and co-operative societies that no longer are operative. Nobody at the FSA could locate either the Mechanics’ Industrial Society in Newcastle or the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative

70 On particular issues, the inquiry draws on yet another set of source materials, e.g. minutes from the propaganda committee of Solidar, articles and notices both in the Co-operative press (national and local) and in local non-co-operative press, pictures and films from the two societies, interviews with members and employees, jubilee histories, and city maps. It should be said at the outset that the interviews with members and employees in the Newcastle Society and Solidar have not been used in the way I originally intended. They were conceived and carried through in response to an earlier casing, which tilted the enquiry towards oral history. That casing was later abandoned, and the interviews have accordingly been relegated to perform a more subsidiary function. In general, the interview material has provided me with members’ and employees’ opinions about their relation with their co-operative societies and with the Co-operative movement. Some of the interviewees have also explained co-operative procedures and traditions that I would not have been able to understand otherwise.128 Thus, the interviews largely play the role of in- formant interviews. In that capacity, however, the interviews, and my many informal conversations with co-operators, have been invaluable. They have provided me with knowledge which I could not have found in other sources. What can these sources tell us, what are their limitations, and how reliable are they? These questions, and the related matter of how I have proceeded in interpreting the information, make up the next issue to consider. When I have participated in such co-operative events as annual meetings, the celebration of International Co-operative Day, and weekend schools, I have been told how much better things used to be, e.g. that many more people used to take part in such activities. Photos and films from the past support the impression that co-operative meetings used to attract quite a crowd. It is difficult, however, to determine exactly how many people took part in the meetings. This is one of the problems with the source material. Only occasionally do secretaries estimate the number of members attending meetings. Surveys made by the Co-operative unions in Sweden and Britain or by scholars can be used to discuss general trends. For information about attendance in the two societies, however, I have had to rely on noting numbers on those occasions when they have occurred in the minutes or in reports.129

Society with the registration number 276 in their archive. This information has been provided by Marianne Smith at the FSA. 128 I have made 12 interviews with members, former employees in the Newcastle Society and employees in the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society. Jim Lamb has been a personal guide into the source material and I have also had access to interviews that he has made with members and employees in co-operative societies in the North East. Additionally I have been given a print of a group interview with female members of the Newcastle Society made by Lloyd Langley. Interview with Eileen Mackinnon, Brenda Hamilton and Liz Jackson, Memories of the Co-operative Youth Movement, Interviewed by Lloyd Langley, Keeper of Social History, Beamish, The North of England Open Air Museum, Beamish Sound Archive 1998/12, (taped and printed), 25 June 1998. 129 Results of elections and other votes can be used to calculate how many members attended the meeting. Election figures and results of votes can only be used when the minutes reveal if members present could vote for only one candidate or for as many candidates as there were seats to fill.

71 As a corollary to the difficulties in getting accurate attendance figures, the minutes naturally give very sparse background information about the attendees. The people who spoke at the meetings are often presented with their names, and minutes can also cite the names of the officials taking part in the meetings – notably the chairman, the directors, the secretary, the general manager, chief executive, and department and branch managers. But other participants typically remain anonymous. There are exceptions: in connection with some elections at Solidar's member meetings, the names, addresses and professions of the candidates are registered in the minutes. It is possible to investigate whether both men and women attended the meetings, and whether one of the sexes dominated in terms of speaking. Yet, civil status is a more problematic issue, at least in the Newcastle Society. Titles – Mrs or Miss – are absent in the Newcastle minutes, both from board and from member meetings. The minutes from Solidar mostly make it possible to determine the civil status of women. Finally, no ledgers listing the addresses and professions of members have been found for either society. When using minutes as source material, it is important to consider the ways in which minutes are written. This is important in two very different respects. On the one hand, not everything that went on at a meeting made it into the minutes. It is necessary, then, to reflect on the possible information loss caused by selec- tive recording practices. As we shall see, there are variations between minutes which must also be taken into account. On the other hand, minutes are not only evidence to the researcher, they are also part of the organisational practices under study. For despite variations, there is a format for how to write minutes, and the minutes in turn structure the meetings. It is therefore a pressing task to assess the limitations and possibilities of this type of material. The style of the minutes varies over time, between as well as within the two societies. The extent of variation depends upon who was secretary, what prior training he or she had received, and how much idiosyncracies the format allowed. We can take our cue from Olle Josephsson, who has written several texts on the character and style of minutes from associations – particularly those which make up the popular movements of the 19th and 20th centuries.130 Joseph- son points out that, usually, secretaries of societies were drilled in the art of writing minutes in the youth clubs of the popular movements. He also points out that secretaries could turn to manuals for how to write minutes. According to his argument, we would expect to find small variations in the minutes of Swedish societies. But then again it is only valid within a certain scope. In the early days, there were no youth clubs. The only manuals I have found in my local setting,

––––––––– 130 In this case I have turned to his text about the language and argumentation in the early days of the working class movement in Sweden. See Josephson Olle, Diskussionsskolan 1886 Språkbruksmil- jön, argumentation och stil I tidig arbetarrörelse, (1991), Avdelningen för retorik, Uppsala, in particular Chapter Four, Protokollspråket (The Language of the Minutes).

72 moreover, stem from Kooperativa Kvinnogillet in Malmö, and they were printed in the middle of the 1950s.131 In fact, Solidar's minutes exhibit more variation from one meeting to the next than in the case of the Newcastle Society. The explanation seems to be that in Malmö, each member meeting elected a secretary for the meeting. During the second half of the 20th century, office employees were used as secretaries at some of the district meetings of Solidar and at the meetings of the member council. In the Newcastle Society, by contrast, a secretary with the jurisdiction of an office manager was elected by the members. This procedure lasted until 1947. After that, the secretary was appointed by the board. He, for there were no female secretaries during the period examined, would write the minutes. Since the secretaries held the position for a longer time-span, there is relative continuity in the style of minutes, but there are sometimes great differences between different secretaries. What kind of information was taken down and what was left out in the minutes? Two types of information stand out as possible candidates for omission. First, certain information may appear exceedingly self-evident and trivial. There is no need to spell out what everybody knows. Second, controversial issues may be left out or played down; hot information may be cooled down in, or be considered inappropriate for, the formal language of the minutes. With regard to the first class of possible omissions, the remedy is to bring in a sufficiently long time-span, and a sufficient amount of context, to provide an understanding of rules, routines, procedures, and local customs that were taken for granted by the attendees. Making sense of the routine of day-to-day organisational life is, after all, a global aim of our historical investigation of the local societies.132 This still leaves open the question whether contested and controversial issues are accurately portrayed in the minutes. These matters are best discussed in relation to concrete examples. To this end, I have selected minutes from two lively meetings, one in the Newcastle Society and one in Solidar. Both are examples of controversy. Both cases shed light on what was thought proper to include in the minutes, and both reveal opinions about how a meeting ought to be conducted. We begin with an example from Solidar, namely the minutes from an extra member meeting in December 1911. These minutes, it turns out, caused controversy when they were read out on the following member meeting in January 1912. The debate at the December meeting concerned the question whether Soli- dar should employ a male office manager or a female office assistant. The man who was taking minutes had an interest in the matter. He had applied for the post as office manager, and had been recommended as one of the candidates. The at- mosphere at the meeting had been tense, abusive remarks had been made, and at the member meeting in January several members questioned the validity of the

––––––––– 131 Formulär för protokollföring, in Protokollbok för Kooperativa kvinnogillet Mellanheden Malmö 1954-1959, Mellanhedens Konsumentgille Protokoll 1954-1959, 1966-1978 A: I-II, in Arbetarrö- relsens arkiv i Malmö. 132 The topic is treated at some length in Part Three.

73 minutes from the previous meeting.133 Mr Löfgren claimed that he had not called J. A. Lundgren a good-for-nothing. Mr Jönsson also thought the minutes were incorrect, but said that they must forgive the member who had acted secretary at the last meeting because he did not know how to write a proper minute. It was decided that the minutes from the previous meeting should be rewritten and that all derogatory personal remarks should be left out.134 However, the minutes saved in the minutes books have not been rewritten.135 Because of the critique delivered at the January meeting, the member who had acted secretary at the meeting in December decided not to offer his services again. He nevertheless maintained that he had only written down what had demonstrably been uttered at the last member meeting. It was then decided that the secretary of the board take the minutes, and that he only minute decisions.136 The example from Solidar already contains interesting aspects, but we will postpone the discussion of them until we have reviewed a parallel example from the Newcastle Society. It is taken from a quarterly meeting in July 1906. Here, too, emotions apparently got the better of some of the participants. The reason we know about the alarum at the meeting is not, as in the Solidar case, that subsequent meetings contested the validity of the minutes. On the contrary, the minutes themselves contain no indications of a quarrel between directors, followed by unrest at the meeting where the standing orders were set aside. This, however, is what we read about in a newspaper cutting from The Northern Echo that has been inserted in the minute book. While the accuracy of the notice in The North- ern Echo cannot be taken for granted, the fact that the minutes from the July quarterly meeting reveal nearly nothing about a quarrel between two directors makes the account in the notice interesting. The three headlines introducing the report in the paper are as follows: “Directors’ straight talk”, “Uproar at a New- castle Meeting”, “Called a ‘Fathead’”. Mr Cattliff, one of the directors, had tracked down an employee who he thought had been careless. Moreover, he had conducted his “espionage” activity during his own work hours. Upon reporting the incident to Mr Grant, another director, Mr Cattliff, was told that he should not interfere with the employees of the society and that he would be reported to his employer, the Corporation. According to the article, there was uproar at the meeting and the standing orders were removed. The chairman tried to restore order. When that did not work, he wished to close the meeting, but the members

––––––––– 133 Protokoll extrastämma 26 december 1911. 134 Protokoll fört vid extra stämma med Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidar u.p.a. i Malmö 18 januari 1912. 135 The minutes that remain from the extra member meeting in December 1911 are not the rewritten minutes, I have found all the comments that the members wished deleted. See Protokoll extrastäm- ma 26 december 1911. 136 Protokoll fört vid extra stämma med Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidar u.p.a. i Malmö 18 januari 1913.

74 would not allow him to do so.137 Neither the quarrel nor the tumultuous events at the meeting are recorded in the minutes.138 What can we learn from these examples? By the time of the December meeting in 1911, Solidar was still in its infant years. The organisation was still engaged in a process of finding a working routine. The article in the Northern Echo indicates that, despite a codification of standing orders and nearly 50 years’ experience of conducting member meetings, there was no guarantee against turmoil at the meetings. In contrast to the Solidar meeting, however, the secretary of the Newcastle Society did know how to write “proper minutes”. He has refrained from minuting insults, and the tidy language of the minutes give the impression of relative calm. Had it not been for the notice in The Northern Echo, we would have no reason to suspect that the meeting was the scene of heated emotions. This no doubt gives a sense of what ended up in and what was left out from the minutes. It is clear that the members, or at least the members of the board, were concerned about the appearance of how the business was conducted in the society. Abusive comments and deviations from standing orders were not toler- ated. After 1911, we do not find any strong language in the minutes from Soli- dar. Nor do they contain pointed, explicit conflicts between members, elected or non-elected. The fact that such conflicts are absent from the minutes does not necessarily mean that they were not there. For all we know, there could have been unruly meetings, just like the ones quoted above, covered up by the cool prose of the minutes. There are indeed limits to what this source material can tell us about what went on at the meetings. What could get lost is a sense of what the meetings themselves were like, at least to the extent that they really did contain foul language, insults, and other disorderly elements. But it would be wrong to over- emphasise these limitations. It was very much permissible to express differences of opinion, as long as the discussions and exchanges were kept within the bounds of good conduct. We have to wait until the 1960s for the minutes to become shorter and somewhat drier, concentrating more exclusively on reporting decisions made at the meetings. Up until then, the minutes of both societies contain vibrant discussions, and it is possible for us to gain an understanding of the members' view of the development of their society. It is the tone, not the contents, of member comments that may be obscured by the format of the minutes. To this can be added that, in spite of the fact that the minutes from the July meeting of the Newcastle Society make no reference to insults or quarrels, someone did conscientiously attach the newspaper cutting to the minutes. Moreover, the format of the minutes cannot merely be regarded as imperfect evidence of what went on at an otherwise unstructured meeting. On the contrary, the minutes imposed a structure on the meeting. In both the Newcastle Society and Solidar, the minutes from the previous meeting were read in the beginning of ––––––––– 137 ”Directors’ Straight talk”, The Northern Echo July 26th 1906. “Newcastle Co-operative Society”, Daily Chronicle, July 26th 1906. Both articles inserted in 1127/27 Members Quarterly Meetings minute book 26 April 1905 – 28 October 1931. 138 Minutes 181st Quarterly General Meeting July 26th 1906.

75 the following member meeting. This procedure allowed members to check that the minutes gave a correct description of what had taken place at the last meeting. It also enforced a structure on the meetings. In this sense, the minutes were a sort of instruction for how the meeting should be conducted. They also determined which errands would be dealt with, and in what order. This, too, worked to provide a certain structure and routine to the meeting. In the light of what has been said about the limitations of minutes as source material, a few comments should be made about an alternative type of material which, for practical reasons, I have only used in an unsystematic fashion. Con- sider the fact that we found out about the turbulence at the quarterly meeting of the Newcastle Society from a report in a newspaper. In this particular case, the article was appendiced to the minutes. It is easy to imagine, however, that similar information may have been printed in the press without finding its way to the minutes books. Thus, a survey of the local papers in Newcastle and Malmö, and of the papers from the Co-operative press in both countries, could have provided a complement to the minutes material. Press materials do indeed figure in the inquiry, but they are used scantily and are not based on a systematic and detailed survey of newspaper materials. It simply was not feasible, within the bounds of the research project, to conduct such a survey in two countries over a long period of time. Yet, while that omission may result in the loss of information, the losses are not immense. Minutes are a rich source material in themselves, and they suffice in relation to the questions posed in the thesis. It seems fitting to conclude this discussion with some notes on problems which the comparative approach can give rise to regarding source material. I have had troubles finding comparable source material when examining certain themes. Being initially interested in the reception of co-operative education, I searched for material that would provide me with some clues as to the extent of educational efforts in the Newcastle Society. I already knew a great deal about the situation in Solidar, and there is plenty of material on that subject in the archives in Sweden.139 As it turned out, however, there was little material, and only incomplete series of minutes, from the education committee of the Newcastle Society. Thus, the contingencies of available source materials prevented a direct comparison of the extent of the education programs of the two societies. By piecing together different kinds of source materials – minutes of member meetings in the Newcastle Society, reports from the education committee in the annual report and statements, and the minutes from the education committee (1932-1946) – it is nevertheless possible to analyse the attitudes to educational activities of different sections within the society. The combination of these sources provides enough information to compare how the educational programs in each society

––––––––– 139 In the case of Solidar the accounts of these activities can be found in every annual report and statements of accounts from 1926 to 1979 and additional sources kept in Solidar’s own archive and in Johan Larsson’s archive deposited in Arbetarrörelsens Arkiv (The archive of the Labour Move- ment) in Malmö. Johan Larsson was the Chairman of the propaganda committee in Solidar from 1923 to 1960.

76 came about, and to some extent also the members’ attitudes towards these activities. To sum up, then, minutes as source material do have their limitations, but they are not very confining, at least not in relation to the research questions of this inquiry. The issue of other possible source materials will be taken up again in part five, where the conclusions of the current study are put in relation to a wider range of secondary literature. These conclusions, and their bearing on theoretical and substantial issues beyond the ones we have sketched so far, suggest possible further investigations. In this connection, it is instructive to once again open up the question of appropriate sources, and to sketch the ways in which the use of additional material can provide us with further information and other perspectives.

6. Britain and Sweden – with a focus on the development of legislation for co-operation It is never easy to decide where a history starts, to cut out the proper side-scenes from history, and say "this is the opening scene" or "this is the proper background". The following text is the result of my choice to bring out the development of legislation for co-operation as a formative factor for consumer co- operation in practice, noticeable in an Anglo-Swedish comparison. We get to follow the development of legislation for co-operative ventures in Britain and Swe- den, and, indirectly, some 19th- and 20th-century socio-economic and cultural differences in the two countries. In his classic work Social Change in the Industrial Revolution, Neil Smelser set out to analyse, among other things, English cotton workers’ provisions for savings and security. When cottage textile production dominated in Lancashire, the workers engaged in this manufacture industry belonged to a working class that was relatively undifferentiated. Smelser claims that equally undifferentiated friendly societies met the saving and security needs of these working class households. Apart from being a device to cope with financial matters, these societies provided places and occasions for drinking, sociability and for the confirmation of their standing within the craft community, at least for the men in the households. All this began to change gradually with the mechanisation of spinning and weaving. The advent of mechanised industry created a more differentiated working class. The new working conditions changed family structure and extrafamil- iar arrangements for saving and security. But the friendly societies did not disappear, far from it. The workers in the cotton mills took part in the creation of a more differentiated institutional base for saving and security when they started up building societies, co-operatives, and new, more streamlined friendly societies. Smelser argues that the value of independence increasingly influenced the

77 practice of workers, workers’ households and social life in general. A sign of this was the increasing specialisation of the friendly societies.140 The specialisation of friendly societies during the 19th century is evident in a series of reports from the Royal Commission, published from 1871 to 1874, on friendly and benefit building societies. In these reports, friendly societies are classified into no less than seventeen categories. Some of the more important categories were the local societies in town and country districts, affiliated societies or orders, deposit friendly societies and dividing societies.141 In general, membership in friendly societies and local box clubs were voluntary. But there were suggestions and experiments aiming to make membership compulsory; such measures, it was thought, would be part of a solution to the problems of poverty. Contemporary social critics like F. M. Eden criticised these few experiments with compulsory membership, designed for particular professions like coalheavers, skippers and keelmen. In Eden’s opinion, compulsory membership in a friendly society would be like an extra tax, and he guarded the independence of the societies in relation to the government and patrons.142 During the first half of the 19th century, worker and consumer co-operatives ended up in company with the friendly societies, at least in legal terms. From 1834, they were registered under the Act of Friendly Societies. But it was not until 1846, when a “frugal investment clause” was inserted in the Friendly Societies Act, that the activities of co-operative societies were regulated in greater detail. Seen from the perspective of the co-operative societies, this was not an ideal situation. To be sure, there were benefits of being registered under this act. It meant, for example, that co-operative societies gained the ability to protect their property against fraud and theft by legal process. At the same time, however, it severely limited what the societies could do, for they were now restricted to sell goods to members only. This restriction caused many practical problems for societies, which led the promoters of co-operation, particularly those who favoured workers’ co-operatives, to work for a new Act. Many of those who wanted, and worked for, a new legislation were Christian Socialist, the most famous being J. M. Ludlow. In 1852, the efforts of Ludlow and his companions met with success. The new act, called The Industrial and Provident Act of 1852, was better designed for co-operative societies, both worker and consumer ones, but co- operative societies were still not granted the important right of limited liability.143 Before we go on to describe changes in legislation, the process leading up ––––––––– 140 Smelser Neil J., Social Change in the Industrial Revolution: An Application of Theory to the Brit- ish Cotton Industry, (1959), The University of Chicago Press, Chicago, see in particular Chapter X “Symptoms of Disturbance in the Family” and Chapter XII Structural Change in Consumption and Savings: The Poor Law, Friendly Societies, Savings Banks, and Co-operative Societies”. See also Zelizer Viviana A., “Circuits of commerce”, in Self, Social Structure, and Beliefs: Explorations in Sociology, (c2004), Eds Alexander Jeffrey, Marx Gray T., Williams Christine, University of Cali- fornia Press, Berkeley, p. 1. 141 Gosden P. H. J. H., Self-Help Voluntary Associations in Nineteenth-century Britain, (1973), B. T. Batsford Ltd, London, p. 11. 142 Gosden, (1973), pp. 7-9. 143 Gosden, (1973), pp. 190-192.

78 to these changes should be put into context so as to give us some idea of why certain restrictions were built into the legal framework. In comparison with the difficulties which British trade unions had in gaining legal footing, the opposition against co-operative societies' demands for legislative changes was much more modest in magnitude. There was a time when co- operative ventures were perceived to present a political threat. This was the period when prominent co-operators were adherents of Owenism and ‘rational religion’, and propagated for the creation of co-operative communities. During this time, co-operatives worked without any legal protection at all. Parallel to these utopian efforts, however, we witness – from the 1820s onwards – a build-up of worker and consumer co-operatives which were content to operate within the framework of existing society.144 It was for the benefit of such trading societies that the legal framework was eventually worked out. As Gosden points out, however, we must not forget that co-operative societies were the creations of their members, and did not owe their existence to any governmental initiative. The legislature could facilitate or hinder their progress, but it could not create co- operative ventures.145 Regarding restrictions in activities, the legislators seem to have been concerned about balancing opposing interests. On the one hand, those companies that were registered under the Company Act could potentially suffer damage if the activities of co-operative societies, which operated within a different legal regime, were not circumscribed. On the other hand, the establishment of societies was thought to be beneficial, in the sense that they promoted the frugality of working people and the poor, and restrictions on activities created an obstacle to these societies. The general tendency, as expressed in the changes in the Indus- trial and Provident Societies Act of 1852, was to allow co-operative societies to run more and more activities, but with one exception: the right to provide members with educational facilities was withdrawn. Cole argues that this withdrawal was simply a mistake on the part of the legislators. Be that as it may. In practice, co-operators did not heed this restriction. They continued with educational activities, and with revisions in the 1862 Act, co-operative societies were once again permitted to engage in such.146 This was not the only change brought about by the 1862 revision of the Indus- trial and Provident Societies Act. Joint-stock companies were granted limited liability in two steps, first in 1855 and then in 1862. Changes in The Industrial and Provident Societies Act of 1862 bestowed limited liability also on co-operative societies. According to Gosden, legal changes during the 1860s and early 1870s introduced some elements of the Company Act in the legal framework for co- operatives. Yet, additional changes, introduced towards the end of the 1870s and in 1893, partly shifted the orientation of the Industrial and Provident Societies Act, so that co-operative societies were once again back in the company of friendly societies. The Industrial and Provident Societies Act underwent changes ––––––––– 144 Royle, (1998), chapter “Community aspirations and co-operation, 1821-37”. 145 Gosden, (1973), pp. 190-191. 146 Cole, (1947), pp. 117-125. For the extension of limited liability see also Gosden, (1973), p. 193.

79 throughout the 19th and 20th centuries. The nature of these changes – along with their implications for the activities and governance of co-operative societies, and for the raising of capital and distribution of surplus – will be addressed in more detail in other parts of the thesis. It suffices, for the time being, to emphasise the legal and cultural proximity between friendly societies and co-operative societies in Britain. Friendly societies eventually reached Sweden, and the first Oddfellow lodge was established in Malmö in 1884.147 Little is written about lodges and friendly societies in Sweden, but it is clear that Swedish friendly societies never gained the same cultural and socio-economic role for workers as they had in Britain. This fact has both direct and indirect consequences for the development of co- operative societies in Sweden. One direct effect is that Swedish co-operatives must draw on other associational, organisational, and cultural sources. An indirect effect of the late introduction, and modest extent, of friendly societies is that the legislation was not built around them. Both the direct and the indirect effects mark significant differences in relation to the British case. Friendly societies in the strict sense have played a minor role in Sweden. If we nevertheless want to find a rough equivalent to them, we have to turn to the guild institutions. Let us, then, give a brief outline of some of these institutions and their changes. It can be argued that the years 1846 and 1864 are landmarks in this development, for they brought legislative changes that resulted in the freedom of trade. With the introduction of the freedom of trade, the traditional guild institutions began to dissolve and were replaced by trade unions and co-operative organisations. Now, the guild institutions and related organisations have primarily attracted the attention of academic scholars who have been concerned with finding the origin of trade unions, or who have used them as indicators of a change from guild identity to working-class consciousness.148 The information we get about the journeymen’s different societies indicates that they had met the same kind of needs as the Friendly Societies did in Britain, but that they were exclusive to particular professions. Consider, for example, Lars Edgren's studies on crafts and craftsmen in Malmö 1750-1847. He provides us with details about the function of apprentices’, journeymen’s, and masters’ organisations as well as the changes they underwent. To be sure, Edgren's research interests do not include a close study of the financial discussions and distribution of resources within these societies.149 Yet, his findings nevertheless in- ––––––––– 147 Brödralogen nr 1 Scania was formed on 29th October 1884, http://www.oddfellow.se/b-1/ (2005- 01-28). 148 Lindblom Tage, Den svenska fackföreningsrörelsens uppkomst och tidigare historia 1872-1900, (1938), Tiden, Stockholm. Skarin Frykman Birgitta, Från yrkesfamilj till klassgemenskap. Om bagare i Göteborg 1800-1919, (1985), Etnologiska institutionen, Göteborg. Edgren Lars, Lärling- Gesäll-Mästare. Hantverk och hantverkare i Malmö 1750-1847, (1987), Universitetsförlaget Dia- logos AB, Lund. 149 Edgren, (1987). In his study Edgren discusses the economic functions of for instance journeymen’s societies but he does not go any further into e.g. the financial benefits paid to sick members, or death benefits, but he concludes that these kinds of benefits were probably very restricted and not sufficient to cover the real costs, see p. 266.

80 dicate that it was the function of sick and burial boxes that lived on into the second half of the nineteenth century, and some of these boxes were incorporated into the new trade unions founded in the 1880s.150 An additional factor in the development of Swedish associational life is that Sweden was an industrial latecomer. The industrialisation process took off as late as the 1870s. Prior to this, Sweden was decidedly agrarian. In fact, the rural character of the country lingered on well into the 20th century. For while the number of people employed in agriculture steadily decreased from the 1870s, it was only in the 1930s that the number of people employed in industry surpassed agricultural employment figures.151 Two factors can be singled out as responsible for the gradual transformation of Sweden from an agrarian to an urbanised industrial country between 1860 and 1945. The first was the push effect into emigra- tion during years of failing crops and unemployment, the second was the pull effect from the expanding industry. Yet, the drastic depopulation of the countryside took place only after 1945.152 We are dealing, then, with a predominantly rural society, and this has consequences for the nature and types of associations that developed. At the time when friendly societies had their heyday in Britain, the majority of Swedish mutual institutions – such as byalag (”village communities”) sockenmagasin (”parish storehouses”), and hundramannaföreningar (“hundred-man societies” – predecessors of Swedish health insurance societies) – were located in the countryside. When bruksorter (“industrial communities” were established, and populated with workers, new types of mutual institutions began to crop up. The Swed- ish historian Torkel Jansson has described 19th-century Sweden as a country filled with all kinds of associations for mutual and individual benefit. As we shall see shortly, both the late arrival and the bewildering diversity of these new associations were important factors in the development of a legislative framework. Before doing so, it is instructive to follow Jansson's argument a bit further. Torkel Jansson argues that the new types of mutual institutions differed in two respects from their rural predecessors. First, they were not based on the different estates, and operated in accordance with the principle of voluntary membership. Thus, a 19th-century sparkassa (“savings association”) had more in common with a 19th-century missionsförsamling (“congregation of the Mission Covenant Church”) than with a skrålåda (“guild savings box “). Second, many of the new associations also differed from previous mutual institutions, and from groups based on the estates, by pursuing aims on a national level or by representing new kinds of group interest that did not coincide with locality or estates. Examples of these kinds of associations are temperance associations, reform associations and education circles.153 The process of industrialisation had a decisive effect on ––––––––– 150 Edgren Lars, ”Schenk och skymfning. Från gesällskap till fackförening Malmögesällers yrkesorganisationer efter 1847”, Arbetarhistoria, nr 31-32 årgång 8, 1984, pp.2-7. 151 Flygare Iréne A. and Isacson Maths, Jordbruket i välfärdssamhället 1945-2000, (2003), Natur och Kultur/LTs Förlag, Stockholm, p. 21. 152 Morell Mats, Jordbruket i industrisamhället 1870-1945, (2001), Natur och Kultur/LTs Förlag, Stockholm, p. 76. 153 Jansson, (1985), pp. 17-20.

81 working-class family structure, and on migration patterns. Yet, according to Jansson, the major driving force lies elsewhere. It is to be found in the changes in the agrarian economy, and in the different Enclosure Acts, that is, storskiftet, en- skiftet and laga skifte that took place from 1750 to the end of the 19th century. These developments, he contends, ultimately altered the socio-economic structure. They gave rise to new needs, and to new ideas and organisations designed to cope with them.154 Let us, however, refrain from further discussions of the possible driving forces behind these developments, and focus instead on their consequences. Regardless of what caused the new needs to arise, the result was a massive expansion in the number and kinds of associations. The legislator had difficulty in keeping up with the pace. In 1885, it had become clear that there were many associations which were more or less involved in economic activities, but which were poorly suited for registration under the Joint Stock Company Act of 1848. Among these were associations with dispersal of ownership and democratic forms of governance. In response to the increasingly untenable relation between existing legislation and the diversity of organisational forms, Hjalmar Hammarskjöld was appointed to lead a governmental inquiry into the subject. Hammarskjöld's report lists a great variety of associations, e.g. different kinds of bulk purchasing societies, peoples’ banks, phone associations, and associations for the establishment and operation of theatres, hotels and bathhouses. The findings from his inquiry were presented five years later, followed by an additional five-year period of legislative processing. The end result was Föreningslagen (the Association Act) of 1895.155 This is where co-operative societies come into the picture. Hammarskjöld's survey identified 400 associations as co-operative societies. Before 1895, and the introduction of Föreningslagen, co-operative ventures had three options. They could register as joint-stock companies, as trading companies, or refrain from registering at all. The latter option was equal to declining legal protection altogether, so that members had to face the risk of being personally responsible in a possible bankruptcy. Registering as a joint-stock company or as a trading company, on the other hand, subsumed the society under a legal framework that was tailored for ordinary companies. Half of the 400 societies identified by Ham- marskjöld as co-operatives were registered as joint-stock companies. The purpose of Hammarskjöld’s inquiry was to collect information that would serve as a base for a new kind of Act, one that would provide associations with adequate legal protection. Föreningslagen of 1895 was intended to do just that.156 Just as in the British case, the introduction of a special legal framework for associations, including co-operatives, also entailed practical problems for the co- operative societies. Too many different kinds of associations had been lumped together under the same Act, and – again a parallel to the British case – there were complications in relation to the trading activities of co-operative societies. ––––––––– 154 Jansson, (1985), p. 35. 155 Johansson , (1999), pp. 7-9. 156 Johansson, (1999), pp. 9-10.

82 Many of these restrictions were lifted in 1911 when the Act was revised. But by the time of the revision in 1911 KF had been formed, and organised co-operators had new demands on the legislator. Representatives from KF criticised the Act of 1911 for not being co-operative, on the grounds that it was too liberal, allowing too many different kinds of associations to register under it.157 The formation of KF is important in other respects as well. In 1899, when the federal organisation was established, the Association Act of 1895 had only been active for four years. Most of its member societies, particularly those which had been around long enough to become large organisations, had formed their practices under the legal framework of the Joint Stock Company Act of 1848. While the new Association Act formally freed co-operative societies from certain legally imposed financial obligations, the practices that were built upon an older legal framework were not likely to go away. In fact, as we will discuss further in Part Four, the rules adopted by KF go beyond what is stipulated in the Associa- tion Act in terms of demands on financial security. This could be interpreted as an institutionalisation in the federal organisation of practices that had been developed earlier within the individual societies. In order to join KF, a co-operative society thus had to meet other and stricter criteria than those which are announced in the Association Act of 1895. Now, what can we learn from this exposé over the legislative frameworks of British and Swedish co-operation? The first thing to be noted is that there is an interplay between social structure, the formation of associations, and legislation. This interplay turned out differently in the two countries, and its combined effects shaped the conditions for co-operative societies in distinct ways. The early industrialisation of Britain produced an early working class, which in turn contributed to the early development of friendly societies. By the time when more differentiated friendly societies and related types of associations began to crop up, friendly societies had been around long enough to become an established legal category. Thus, these new kinds of associations were subsumed under a legal framework that regulated what friendly societies were allowed to do. Co- operative societies, however, had one foot in the context of friendly societies, conceived as saving associations, and one in the world of trade. There was tension between the legal arrangements that had been handed down and the business activities of co-operative societies, and these tensions were worked out by successive revisions of the Friendly Societies Act and the eventual creation of the Industrial and Provident Societies Act. The development of a legal framework for co-operatives took a different path in Sweden. Sweden was an agrarian country, and there was no previous legal framework that could accommodate the massive expansion of associations that occurred during the 19th century. Whereas British co-operative societies could register in the same legal category as friendly societies already in 1834, their Swed- ish counterparts had to wait until 1895 for the possibility to register under the Association Act. Hence, the early Swedish co-operatives developed during a pe- ––––––––– 157 Rodhe Knut, Föreningslagen 1951 års lag om ekonomiska föreningar, (1952), KF:s Bokförlag, Stockholm, p. 11. Johansson Tore, (1999), p. 7-17.

83 riod when the most viable option was to register under the Joint Stock Company Act of 1848. However, the regulations of the Joint Stock Company Act shaped the practices of these early societies, and when KF was formed, the federal organisation required member societies to meet more taxing criteria than those in the Association Act. We will have occasion to get back to these national legal frameworks, and to their effects on the workings of co-operation, in the three following parts of the book. One final task remains, however, before we can immerse ourselves in the empirical materials from Solidar and the Newcastle Society: to describe the geo- graphic contexts of the two cases, and provide a picture of the developments of the cities of Malmö and Newcastle, and of the regions of Skåne and the North East of England.

6.1 Newcastle and Malmö – from trading towns to industrial cities National legislation sets the framework within which local co-operatives work. It provides a boundary condition for the activities of every co-operative society falling under its jurisdiction. Even if it would be a mistake to equate the existence of legislation with universal compliance, legal frameworks have a strong formative impact upon the doings of local societies. Yet, if national level characteristics have local effects, they are not the sole important factors. Local societies are also embedded in local and regional contexts. The task of this paragraph is to outline a few traits of these contexts. Before we commence our account, it must be emphasised that while these local and regional contexts are, so to speak, closer to home, their possible effects on the workings of co-operative societies are also more difficult to assess. In a certain sense they, too, are boundary conditions, but we will have to remain ig- norant of which factors are important, how they matter, and in what respects. The account offered below traces a set of salient features in the local and regional developments in Newcastle and Malmö – but it makes no claim that these are the only relevant local factors, and it contains no argument that particular aspects of these developments have influenced co-operation in any specified way. It is merely intended to serve as background foil, to give a sense of place, and to provide materials that we can draw on for particular purposes later on. With these caveats properly spelled out, it is safe to proceed with a description of Newcastle and Malmö. We begin by taking our cue from Joyce Ellis' history of the economic developments of Newcastle 1700-1840. By way of introduction, Ellis presents two contrasting but connected images of 18th-century Newcastle. The first picture is contained in Daniel Defoe's report from his travels around Britain: The situation of the town to the landward is exceedingly unpleasant, and the buildings very close and old, standing on the declivity of two exceed-

84 ing high hills, which, together with the smoke of the coals, make it not the pleasantest place to live.158 His account contrasts in tone with that given by other travellers, who would judge cities by their economic success. In one such judgement, Newcastle is portrayed as a town that “…‘next to Bristol, may be called the greatest trading Town in England’”.159 Despite their differences, the two portraits are quite easily rec- onciled: Defoe describes the visible, and in his view unpleasant, effects of the very same processes as are saluted by the economically minded chroniclers. Much life and action in 18th-century Newcastle took place on the broad, stone- faced quay, in the customs house, warehouses, cellars, and in the taverns, ale- houses and coffee houses on the Sandhill. Newcastle was a port and a commercial centre ranking fourth in Britain. And the merchants and investors of New- castle were rich. In 1709 they owned 11,500 tons of shipping, a figure only surpassed by those of London, Scarborough and Bristol. The majority of ships leaving the quay were loaded with coal and most of them were bound for London. The majority of the ships leaving Newcastle were bound for domestic harbours but there were of course also ships sailing on destinations abroad, e.g. Holland, Northern America and the western Baltic countries.160 Part of the explanation for Newcastle's position as a blooming trading town during the 18th century lies in its industrial hinterlands. The coal industry came to play an important role as early as the middle of the 17th century. Most males in 18th-century Newcastle were involved in the coal trade. The pitmen and coal- workers dominated the communities surrounding the town, whereas the keelmen, who transported the coal from staithes upriver to ships anchored downstream, lived with their families in the eastern parish of All Saints in Newcastle. The aris- tocratic ‘Lords of Coal’ also had to stay in town to protect their interests.161 Along with the successful coal trade came a short-lived but prosperous export of alkali. The alkali industry was concentrated to Walker, west of Newcastle; it had its peak in the early 1880s but had virtually disappeared by 1900.162 Yet, New- castle was not only the regional centre of the Northern Coal Fields. From early on, it was also the centre of a thriving industrial region. In a letter from 1750 Ralph Carr, a merchant in Newcastle, writes that, on a yearly basis, he has shipped great quantities of crown glass, bottles, sheet lead shot, all sorts of woolens, nails, edge tools, every kind of iron ware, coarse felt hats and coarse earthenware, from the region to all parts of America.163

––––––––– 158 Defoe Daniel, A Tour Thro´the Whole Island of Great Britain, (1727), vol.iii, p. 158, in Ellis Joy- ce, ”The ’Black Indies’ the economic development of Newcastle, c. 1700-1840”, in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, Eds. Colls Robert and Lancaster Bill, (2001), Phillimore, Shopwyke Manor Barn, Chichester, West Sussex, p. 1. 159 Quoted in Ellis, (2001), p. 1. 160 Ellis, (2001), pp. 2-4. 161 Ellis, (2001), pp. 2-6. 162 Lendrum Oliver, ”An Integrated Elite Newcastle’s Economic development 1840-1914”, in New- castle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), p. 42. 163 Ellis, (2001), p. 5.

85 The prospering trade in 18th-century Newcastle contrasts abruptly with the situation in Malmö. The 18th century was a period of recovery for Malmö, much due to the adverse consequences of political events. Malmö had been an important trading town in the Kingdom of Denmark up until 1658, when the town was handed over to the Kingdom of Sweden. This transfer meant that the town was deprived of its place near Denmark’s political and commercial centre and became a peripheral town in the Swedish Kingdom. The Swedes even contem- plated making Landskrona, a town and military fortification north of Malmö, the regional capital of Skåne (the southernmost region of Sweden). There were more hardships in store for Malmö: the Great Nordic War, lasting from 1700 to 1721, and a plague epidemic in 1712, made conditions quite severe.164 All this had effects on the crafts of the town. The crafts that had flourished in the 17th century, with over 200 masters active toward the end of that century, began to decline. In 1717, the number of masters had gone down to 117. And for the remainder of the century, the masters were unable to replenish their ranks to the old level. The gradual recovery that we nevertheless witness had other sources, namely the evolving manufacturing industry. Thus, the 18th century brought a relative shift in Malmö's economy, giving a stronger emphasis to the manufacturing industries.165 Textile manufacture, such as the making of cloth and shroud, was the largest industry of Malmö during the 18th century. About 250 people, mostly women, were engaged in this industry, which was mainly organised as outwork. Towards the end of the century, a number of tobacco industries were established.166 Both textile and tobacco industries were industries that generally hired women and children as workers.167 To summarise what we have said so far, the situation in Newcastle was very different from that of Malmö. Whereas Newcastle was experiencing a boom, Malmö was struggling to get out of a decline. An additional important difference between the two towns was the ports. Newcastle's ports had been crucial for its expansion. They attracted investors and business, and made sure that large quantities of inland goods would pass through Newcastle on its way to other destinations. 18th-century Malmö, however, lacked a sufficient harbour. The prospering and lucrative export of grain was instead mediated through other Swedish ports.168 But this would change towards the end of the century, when it was de-

––––––––– 164 Edgren, (1987), pp. 88-89. 165 Edgren, (1987), p. 88-89. 166 Edgren, (1987), p. 88-89. 167 For an account of child labour in 19th and 20th century with tobacco factories in Malmö as an example see Olsson Lars, Då barn var lönsamma: om arbetsdelning, barnarbete och teknologiska förändringar i några svenska industrier under 1800- och början av 1900-talet, (1980), Tiden, Stockholm. For an account of women and child labour in the textile industries see Edgren Monika, Tradition och förändring: Könsrelationer, omsorgsarbete och försörjning inom Norrköpings underklass under 1800-talet, (1994), Lund University Press, Lund. 168 Edgren, (1987), p. 89. See also Falkman Ludvig B., Minnen från Malmö, (1986), Fornminnesföre- ningen, Malmö, p. 66.

86 cided that a real harbour should be planned for the town.169 The harbour was built, and was successively extended during the 19th century.170 With a new harbour, Malmö became a port city and successively the lucrative export of grain began to take its way via Malmö. In 1800, some 55,737 barrels of grain were shipped from Malmö; 47 years later the figure was 207,295 barrels.171 The gradual expansion of the new port is also noticeable in the changing balance between domestic trade and foreign trade. In the beginning of the nineteenth century, 80 per cent of the trade passing through the Malmö shipping port was domestic. Fifty years later, i.e. in the 1850s, the foreign trade had surpassed the domestic trade and Malmö had become the third largest harbour in Sweden.172 For several centuries, Newcastle was the trading town in the middle of the Northern Coal Fields. And Malmö eventually became the trading town in the middle of the Swedish Granary. Yet, as we move on through the decades, we also see a gradual industrial expansion in the towns and in the surrounding areas, and new inhabitants keep migrating to the towns. The pace and timing of these events differ between Malmö and Newcastle, as does the industrial establishment pattern, but the end result is the same: the two towns gradually transformed from trading towns to industrial cities. We will deal first with the issue of population increase, both as an indicator of what was happening to the towns and with an eye to some of its side-effects, and then move on to discuss the development of some of the more important industries. During the eighteenth century, the population of Newcastle had an estimated population increase from 14,000 to 34,000, i.e. a net expansion of some 20,000 people. These figures are only estimates, but they give a rough indication of magnitude and ratio. The next hundred years proved to be much more expansive. From 1801 to 1850, the population grew by some 55,000 people, and in the period 1850-1901 the increase was round about 144,600 people. A substantial portion of the net increase came from migration, which reached its peak in the 1880s. During this decade, some 22,600 people moved to Newcastle. In 1901 as many as 233,644 people lived in the registered district of Newcastle. The drastic rise in population brought many difficulties, since housing, sewage system, labour market and food distribution had not expanded at the same pace. Contem- porary accounts and local histories have described the first decade of the 19th century in Newcastle as a period with years near famine conditions.173

––––––––– 169 Falkman, (1986), p. 67-68. 170 For plans showing the successive extension, the different phases 1820, 1850, 1860 and 1870, see Fridlizius Gunnar, ”handel och sjöfart – förändringens tid”, in Malmö stads historia tredje delen/ 1820-1870, (1981), Ed. Bjurling Oscar, Allhems Förlag, Malmö, p. 306-307. 171 Falkman,(1986), p. 82. 172 Fridlizius, (1981), p. 289-293. 173 Barke Mike, ”The people of Newcastle: A demographic history”, in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), pp. 135-137.

87 In Malmö, the population was multiplied nearly 17 times between 1805 and 1910 from 4,323 inhabitants to 83,373.174 The inflow of migrants to the city is unevenly distributed over time, with a peak in the second half of the 19th and the beginning of the 20th century.175 Thus, the population of Malmö rose from 25,593 to 38,054 in the 1870s. In Malmö, too, incoming migration accounts for much of the increase. To quote but one of these figures, we find that 6,672 people moved to Malmö between 1901 and 1905.176 In 1910 the city had 88,150 inhabitants.177 Just like in Newcastle, the rise in population imposed difficulties on the workers who did not find job or who lost it during the winter. In the 1880s, especially in the middle of the decade, many employers in the city declared that they had shortage of work. The Poor Relief Board – and other, private relief organisations – took note of the hardships which many of the workers faced, but there was very little they could do. The workers themselves had different strategies for coping with intermittent unemployment periods, e.g. going back into the countryside and look for work there, or signing on a ship.178 Malmö turned into an industrial city in the last decades of the 19th century. Yet, Skåne, the region in which the city was the centre, remained predominantly rural. Malmö's industrial development does not alter this overall picture. The population growth in Skåne during the century in question consisted most of all of an increase of the population living in the countryside. Between 1821 and 1825 the total population of Sweden increased by 7 per cent. In Skåne the increase was 8 per cent.179 Malmö's contribution to this increase is far from over- whelming. In 1900 the number of inhabitants in Malmö did not even make up 1 per cent of the population in Skåne.180 There is reason to underline that the transition from an agrarian to an industrial economy in Sweden had started in the countryside. In Skåne, for example, progressive manors and estates contributed to the industrial development of Malmö by making investments in industries.181 The industrialisation of Malmö and Newcastle is visible, in an indirect fashion, in these population figures. Next, our focus will shift from the population to the industries and local business life that were being populated. We will examine a few of the major industries in the industrial development of the two cities, as well as the structure of local business life, during the second half of the 19th and

––––––––– 174 Sommarin Emil, Ur Skånska jordbrukets historia från 1800-talets början till 1914, (1938), Skrif- ter/ utgivna av de skånska hushållningssällskapen vid deras hundraårsjubileum 1914, Malmö, p. 80, 177. 175 During the first five years of the 1870s some 4,387 people moved in from the countryside and during the last five years 2,640 people. Bjurling Oscar, ”Stad i utveckling 1870-1914”, in Malmö stads historia fjärde delen/1870-1914, (1985), Statsfullmäktige i Malmö, Malmö, p. 170-173. 176 Bjurling Oscar, ”Stad i utveckling 1870-1914”, in Malmö stads historia, (1985), p. 170-173. 177 Malmsten Bo, “Från världskrig till världskrig: Malmö stads kommunala förvaltning 1914-1939”, in Malmö stads historia femte delen/1914-1939, (1989), Stadsfullmäktige i Malmö, Malmö, p. 176. 178 Bjurling, (1985), pp. 243-247. 179 Sommarin, (1938), p. 80. 180 Malmsten, (1989), p. 175. 181 Sommarin, (1938), p.84.

88 in the 20th century. In this respect, there are both differences and similarities between Newcastle and Malmö. It has already been pointed out that Newcastle was one of Britain’s most important ports, particularly when it came to the domestic trade in coal. It is no surprise, then, that part of the industrial landscape is related to shipping. During the 19th century, the shipping trade was complemented with an expanding shipbuilding industry along the Tyne. In 1860 John Wigham Richardson founded The Neptune Yard, and in 1903 Richardson’s merged with C. S. Swan & Hunter to form Swan Hunter and Wigham Richardson Ltd .182 West of the Neptune Yard we find the Low Walker Shipyard of Armstrong Whitworth Ltd. W. G. Arm- strong & Co. had started to build ships in 1882. In 1897 Armstrong’s merged with the Manchester Armaments Works of Whitworth, which turned the W. G. Armstrong & Co. into a combined engineering, shipbuilding and armaments works.183 Armstrong Whitworth established two more shipyards, the Walker Na- val Yard and the Elswick Ward.184 The shipbuilding companies were agents on an international market, and ships built in Newcastle sailed over all the oceans of the world. When the First World War changed international relations, Armstrong Whitworth Ltd. became one company in a small group of armament firms that provided the British army with weapons and warships. In November 1913 little over 20,000 people worked for Armstrong Whitworth Ltd. Five years later the number of employees were nearly 60,000.185 Needless to say, the shipyards and engineering industries were major employers in Newcastle, with significant effects on city development. From the mid-19th century onwards, the need to provide housing for the workers of these industries provided the impetus to expand the city of Newcastle along the banks of Tyne, and thus to create a west and an east end outside the former city wall.186 The dominant position of these industries also had consequences for the gender division of labour, for the shipbuilding industry and its subcontractors constituted an industry mainly for male workers. In the core industries connected with shipbuilding and armament the trade unions had a strong position in the negotiations with their employers, at least up until the 1920s. Agreements preventing the dilution of skills, keeping wages up and keeping the employment of women and unskilled men to a minimum, implied that the organised skilled men must have felt pretty confident in their role a providers for their families.187 But if employment was gendered during the good years, so was unemployment in times of industrial crisis. At the beginning of the 1920s, the shipyard industries all over Britain suffered from a sharp fall in foreign orders, and Newcastle was no excep- ––––––––– 182 Smith Ken, ”From Ships to Shops”, in Water under The Bridges. Newcastle’s Twentieth Century, (1999), Eds. Flowers Anna and Histon Vanessa, Tyne Bridge Publishing, p. 30. 183 Lendrum, (2001), p. 40. 184 Smith, (1999), p. 31. 185 Vall Natasha, “The Emergence of the Post-Industrial Economy in Newcastle 1914-2000, in New- castle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), p. 49. 186 This transformation is described in more detail in Part Two, Section 1.1. 187 Hinton James, The First Shop Stewards’ Movement, (1973), George Allen & Unwin Ltd., London, pp. 189-194. Vall, (2000), p. 39. Vall, (2001), p. 50.

89 tion. This fall in orders brought extensive unemployment for male workers, which affected the economy of many working-class families in the city. Thus, in 1924 no less than 50,000 skilled engineers and shipbuilders were unemployed. As a measure to relieve the unemployment situation, a project to build a new road bridge over the Tyne started in 1924, and the Tyne Bridge was completed in 1928.188 The shipbuilding and armaments industries had a temporary recovery during the rearmament right before and during the Second World War, but by that time, the industrial scene had become more diversified. Other kinds of industries, more prone to hiring women, had expanded in the meantime, which affected the gender division of labour. In the 19th century, women who needed and wished to work outside the home had been referred to the service sector. They would work as maids, as assistants in stores, or be self-employed and, in that capacity, either sell goods or perform such services as washing and sewing. However, we also find women in more untypical female professions, such as bricklayers and sla- ters.189 Nevertheless, the interwar period opened up a broader range, and larger quantities, of job opportunities for women, as new kinds of industry were established. It was the “lighter manufacturing” sector, producing food and other consumer goods, which harboured many of the new work opportunities for women. In 1931, over 2,000 women were employed in food, drink and tobacco manufacturing.190 Women also continued to work in the same sectors as they had done in the previous century. It was easier, in relative terms, for women to get access to jobs in the service sector and in the lighter manufacturing industries than in the heavy industries. At the same time, however, women competed with men in these sectors as well. This is evident from the employment figures of the Newcastle Society. As it turns out, the Newcastle Society mainly employed men. The first detailed information about the number of men and women employed date from 1937. In that year 1068 men, 420 women, and 677 young people under 18 – sex not specified – were employed by the society.191 During the Second World War, the proportions changed to 882 men and 967 women, 655 being below 18. When the men in service came back after the War, many women had to step back; men were once again in the majority. But the interlude did have effects. The women in the employ of the society had always been in the majority in the drapery department. After the war, and despite the influx of men coming home to claim the jobs, women took over in more departments, notably in the greengrocery and fruit and in the bread and confectionary departments.192 ––––––––– 188 Vall, (2001), p. 51. 189 Lancaster Bill, “Sociability and the City”, in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), pp. 326-327. 190 Vall, (2001), pp. 55-56. 191 Newcastle-upon-Tyne Co-operative Society Annual Return for year ending 4th September 1937, in Co-operative Union Returns Northern: Box 32. 192 Newcastle-upon-Tyne Co-operative Society Annual Return year ending September 6th 1941 and Newcastle-upon-Tyne Co-operative Society Annual Return year ending September 1951, both in Co-operative Union Returns Northern: Box 32.

90 If the coal industry, together with the short history of the alkali industry, was important for Newcastle, the presence of natural resources played a role in Malmö as well. Here, too, nearby natural resources gave rise to industrial ventures. North east and south west of Malmö, there are deposits of limestone, and they were used to build up a flourishing cement industry in the twentieth century. The company which seized this opportunity was AB Skånska Cementgjuteri (Skånska cement and foundry works). At the time when the company was founded, in 1887, it was located in Lomma, a village north of Malmö. In 1890, after only a few years in business, the company moved to Limhamn. The latter community was located immediately south of Malmö, and would soon – in 1914 – be incorporated into Malmö. The cement industry grew considerably and influenced the housing and socio- economic conditions in Limhamn. Mergers and inventions in building techniques transformed AB Skånska Cement into a world leading company in its sector.193 The prefabricated components that AB Skånska Cement started to manufacture in 1952 changed the building style, and thereby the cityscape, of Malmö and many other cities around the world – including Newcastle.194 Yet, while the cement industry was an important employer, it was neither as large as, nor as dominant as, the coal industry was in the case of Newcastle. Moreover, the fact that it was located outside Malmö makes it somewhat atypical as a representative of the industrial life of the city. If we examine the industries situated in the city of Malmö in the beginning of the 20th century, we find that between 1896 and 1913, the number of factories in Malmö with more than 4 employees increased from 94 to 135. The total number of employees in these factories increased from 5,819 to 9,057. Twenty of the largest factories had more than 100 employees. Among these twenty factories we find three chocolate factories, three tobacco manufactures, three textile factories, two factories preparing furs and leather, three engineering workshops, one shoe factory, one match factory, and one foundry.195 These factories had a great impact on the cityscape of Malmö. It was only when the larger factories found no room for expansion in the centre of the city that they moved out into the suburbs and the harbour area. From the beginning of the 20th century, new factories were established in the outskirts of the city.196 Three different industrial sectors dominated the industrial development of Malmö: the food, textile, and engineering industries. In 1911 food, chocolate, confectionary, and tobacco industries employed 1,090 workers, the textile industries employed 2,846, and the engineering works employed 803 workers. The two former industries employed more women than men, and the female pre- dominance in the textile industry dates as far back as the middle of the 19th cen-

––––––––– 193 Bjurling, (1985), p. 311. 194 Vall, (2000), p.90. 195 Bjurling, (1985), p. 287-289. 196 Martinsson Kerstin and Järtelius Arne, Vart tog Malmö vägen? En studie av fabriker i Malmö innerstad 1897, (2000), uppsats för 5 plus 5 poäng i Stadens historia, Malmö högskola, unpublished, p. 4-5.

91 tury.197 This legacy continued into the 20th century, and gave rise to a different gender division of labour than in the case of Newcastle. Textile was a large and expanding industry, employing a high proportion of women, and this provided a local labour market for women. The number of employees in the textile industry in 1939 was over 4,000, and women had remained in majority. In 1933, for example, nearly 80 per cent of the textile workers in Malmö were women.198 Yet, the relative balance between the three major industrial sectors gradually changed in favour of the male-dominated engineering industry. One particular workplace, Kockums Mekaniska Verkstad (Kockum’s Engineering Works), accounted for a significant portion of the expansion of this sector. When Kockums started out in the 1840s, the company produced farming machinery. But the range of products changed over time. In the age of the railroad, they produced railway carriages and iron bridges, and the company would later become a combined engineering works and shipbuilder. The shipbuilding part of the business, which Kockums has become associated with, only evolved slowly. The first ship was launched in 1873, but ships were not profitable for Kockums at first. In the year 1880, the building of ships resulted in a loss of 644,000 kronor.199 It was not until after the Second World War that shipbuilding became really profitable for Kockums. Yet, a shift towards an emphasis on ships is visible long before that. One sign of this is the company's decision to move from its original location – by the canal south of the city centre – to the harbour at the beginning of the 1910s.200 Shipbuilding may have been slow to show a profit for Kockums, but it contributed to generating new jobs. Over time, Kockums grew to become the largest workplace in Malmö, with 1,400 employees in 1914 and 2,700 employees a quarter of a century later.201 Three sectors thus stand out in Malmö's industrial past, and it is not surprising that much of the 20th-century scholarly literature on Malmö has focused on Kockums and the stocking factory MAB. At the same time, however, it would be false to slight the importance of non-industrial sectors. Kockums was indeed a major employer in the city, but the Solidar did not lag far behind in terms of employment figures: in 1939, Solidar employed 1,159 people. And if the Kockums works was a conspicuous feature in the city, so was Solidar. In 1939, the society had nearly 300 stores in the city, and since these stores were dispersed within a relatively circumscribed area, Solidar too was a conspicuous feature of city life.202 In the Post-War period, the Industrial Economy of Malmö expanded as far as ship-building and engineering were concerned. Textile production remained a big local industry immediately after the war, but severe rationalisations soon ––––––––– 197 Bjurling, (1985), pp. 289-291. 198 Häger Bengt Åke, ”I skuggan av världskrig och världskris”, in Malmö stads historia, (1989), p. 365. 199 Bjurling, (1985), p. 190. 200 Bjurling, (1985), p. 361. 201 Häger, (1989), p. 365. 202 See Utveckling i Solidar och dotterbolag 1908-1957, in Verksamhetsberättelser för år 1957, Ko- operativa Föreningen Solidar.

92 brought down the number of employees in the sector. MAB, the largest textile company in Malmö, closed down in 1957, leaving 700 redundancies in its wake. That same year, however, Kockums invested for the future by establishing an engineering collage. The expansion of Malmö's industrial economy in the 1950s and 1960s, then, coexisted with a tendency toward rationalisation of the work process and a pressure to reduce the number of employees.203 Let us summarise what we have gathered so far. We have described how Newcastle and Malmö were transformed from trading towns to industrial cities, with an eye to the expansion of industries and an increase in population. Our emphasis has been on industrialisation, with a few additional observations on corresponding changes in the social structure, such as the decline of the old crafts and the problems of unemployment. Very little has been said, however, about the development of the retail trade, and the reason for that is that it will be treated at greater length in part two, when we look at the development of co- operative services and stores. Yet, there are other developments, parallel and related to those described above, which deserve a place in a background sketch. We will therefore shift the emphasis from the cities and industries that were being populated to the socio-political life of that population. In both Malmö and Newcastle, a substantial part of the population increase was due to an influx of people from other places. People moved to work in the industries. It is no mystery that these workers would build up a social and associational life on the basis of the new industrial context. Thus, strong working class organisations, aiming to promote working class interests and to ameliorate the socio-economic situation of working-class households, developed in both Newcastle and Malmö. In some respects, these new organisations drew on experiences, forms, and practices from older organisational patterns, such as the guilds and saving-boxes, but the context to which they were transplanted was different, and so was the scale of organisation. Consumer co-operation and other forms of co-operation were among these emerging organisations. Unfortunately, there is relatively little information about such ventures in the secondary literature on Malmö and Newcastle. When Malmö and Newcastle are treated in the literature – whether in city histories, or in studies where the two cities are used as instances of some other phenomenon – we typically only find brief accounts of consumer co-operation, garnished with a general reference to its importance for worker households.204 The current study

––––––––– 203 Vall, (2000), pp. 31-32. 204 As an example where consumer co-operation, above all co-operative housing, is intertwined in a comprehensive history of how governance in Malmö developed in the 20th century see Billing Peter and Stiegendal Mikael, Hegemonins decennier – Lärdomar från Malmö om den svenska modellen (1994) Möllevångens Samhällsanalys, Malmö, pp. 244-245. In accounts from Newcastle the Co-op is included in histories about the development of the retail market in the city see Bennison Brian, "Feeding the people", in Water under the Bridges, (1999). The growth of consumer co-operation is also discussed in relation to one of its prominent proponents Joseph Cowen Junior see Hugman Joan, “Print and Preach: The Entrepreneurial Spirit of Nineteenth-Century Newcastle”, in Newcas- tle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), pp. 124-125.

93 will thus be a contribution to this literature as well, in the sense that it will add to our knowledge about consumer co-operation in these cities. For the time being, however, we shall focus on other organisations. As in so many other places, workers in Newcastle and Malmö organised themselves in trade unions and political associations. The result, some scholars have argued, was a transformation of the social and cultural climate of the cities – especially in the case of Malmö.205 Moreover, Malmö has sometimes been portrayed in the scholarly literature as the Mecca of the Social Democratic movement in 19th- century Sweden, and as a model for the building of a People’s Home, the 20th century vision of SAP (The Social Democratic Party).206 As we shall see below, the political landscape of 20th-century Newcastle was more diversified. Yet, here too trade unions and the political organisations of the working class – particularly those of the engineers and shipbuilders – constituted a significant feature of the socio-political life of the City. We have obtained a few indications of this already in the account so far, in the observation that male trade unionists in the core industries, above all at the Elswick Works, managed to keep the dilution of skills to a minimum, to keep wages up, and to keep women and unskilled men from taking their jobs in the factories. What is definitively true is that associations with a base in the working class were prominent in both Malmö and Newcastle and that the socio-political context was intertwined with the fate of the Industrial Economy. While there are similarities between the cities with regard to working class politics and organisations associated with such politics, it is no less important to inquire into the differences, some of which are related to the structure of the political landscape. As we noted in section 3.1.3., Malmö and Newcastle both had prominent local advocators of co-operation, only with different political affiliations. In Newcastle, co-operation was supported by the liberal MP Joseph Cowen Junior. In Malmö, it was Axel Danielsson – the most prominent local advocator of social democracy – who propagated for and took part in co-operative ventures. If the example is indicative of the different national trajectories of co-operation, it is also revealing of city-level differences in political constellations. In Newcastle, Tories and Liberals competed for political power in the second half of the 19th century. Joseph Cowen Senior and Joseph Cowen Junior were among the prominent Liberals. Like many of the other Liberals, they belonged to a group of new successful industrialists. The first worker to stand for the City Council was sponsored by the Liberal Trades Council, and he won in the Els- wick Ward in the by-election of June 1883. This candidate was a tailor and could therefore manage the irregular meeting-hours of the Council – but he cam- paigned for meeting-hours that would suit other workingmen.207 The late inclu-

––––––––– 205 Billing and Stiegendal, (1994). 206 Billing Peter, Olsson Lars and Stiegendal Mikael, ”Malmö – Vår stad. Socialdemokratins lokalpolitik”, in Socialdemokratins samhälle: SAP och Sverige under 100 år, (1998), Eds. Klaus Misgeld, Karl Molin, and Villy Bergström Tiden, Stockholm. Billing and Stiegendal, (1994). 207 Callcott Maureen, “The governance of the Victorian city”, in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), pp. 72-74.

94 sion of workingmen in local politics does not mean, however, that workers stood entirely without political representation. A faction of the Liberals drew support from the working class. In the middle of the 19th century, it was personal popularity rather than party politics that was the attraction of the local elections. Joseph Cowen Junior was one of those politicians who could harvest votes on the grounds of personal popularity. Gradually, however, a more sophisticated party machinery developed, putting an end to the exclusive preoccupation with personal qualities. Cowen, who had relied on the votes from workers (e.g. from members of the Durham Miners’ Association), searched around in the political landscape of the Left but did not feel at home in parties with a socialist profile. His thoughts on socialism were that it: “…would reduce man to a cypher or to a machine…his free will would disappear”. Yet, these views did not prevent him from supporting the Labour Representation Committee’s candidate in the local by-elections of 1883 and 1885.208 Thus, parts of the heterogeneous liberal camp served as representatives for the workers, and as a springboard for worker candidates, before the appearance of the Labour Party in the 20th century. In the 20th century, the Independent Labour Party entered the local political scene. But it took some time before it could present any real competition. In 1915 there were only nine Labour candidates in the City Council. But that situation would change rapidly. Only three years later, in the shadow of the First World War, the support for Labour had grown to the extent that many Liberals – presumably another part of that heterogeneous camp – and Conservatives in Newcastle found it necessary to unite in an effort to oppose the party.209 In Newcastle, Labour councillors were generally recruited among engineering workers, railwaymen and miners. One exception was the first woman councillor, Mary Laverick, who was elected in 1919.210 It is possible that this is the same Mary Laverick who became a directors in the Newcastle Society in 1926.211 But even if Labour chiefly recruited from the working class, members from the upper-middle classes and the upper class also became Labour representatives. The support for Labour continued to increase, to finally become a force to reckon with in local political life. By 1930, Labour support was so considerable that the party would have taken control of the Town Hall, if only parts of the – then divided – anti-Labour bloc had supported Labour. This, however, did not happen. And by the mid-1930s, an anti-socialist coalition called the Progressives took the lead. Labour, in other words, had become the major political alternative on the left. The Communist Party had not been so successful in Newcastle. It did receive support from the unemployed workers' organisations, and it had a temporary upsurge during the Spanish Civil War from 1936 to 1939. The events on the continent induced more people in Newcastle to join both the Communist Party ––––––––– 208 Hugman, (2001), pp. 130-132, quote from p. 131. 209 Todd Nigel, “Ambition and Harsh Reality Local Politics…Local Politicians”, in Water under the Bridges, (1999), p. 96 210 Todd, (1999), p. 96. 211 Minutes 260th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1926.

95 and the International Brigade in Spain.212 As far as local politics were concerned, however, the political dividing-lines had been drawn elsewhere. The beginning of the Post-War period was characterised by a tug-of-war between the Progressives, who were a combination of conservatives and liberals, and the Labour Party. Election figures reveal that the margin between the two blocs was not very wide. The Right remained in power in the Town Hall throughout the better part of the 1950s, while the Labour Party took over in the 1960s.213 Both political blocs had charismatic front figures. Mr William McKeag, solicitor and director of the Newcastle United Football Club, was the front figure for the Progressives in the 1950s. T. Dan Smith would hold the same position in the Labour Party in the following decade. While differing sharply in terms of their ideological convictions, they had other characteristics in common. They were both men who liked fast fancy cars and who acted as bosses for the City of Newcastle.214 T. Dan Smith is perhaps the more interesting of the two, at least in this context. Smith was a working-class lad who had become a businessman. He had great visions in store for Newcastle and left long-lasting marks on its history and cityscape. Newcastle, Smith thought, was to become the “Brasilia of the North”, a plan which included providing modern housing for workers and expanding higher education. T. Dan Smith may well have been ahead of his time in these respects. The Labour Party’s victory in the Local Elections in 1958 gave the opportunity to implement that program. In the following years, Labour abolished the 11+ in schools, introduced a comprehensive system in the school to end educational segregation, got King’s College upgraded to the University of New- castle, and provided homes for 10,000 people who were on the waiting-list for housing.215 The list of measures introduced by the Labour Party in the years around 1960 could be made longer. The shape of the city itself changed when it was restructured to make room for cars. All these changes were imposed in a very short time-span, resulting in a sharp tension with the Conservative opposition. And the process displaced people in more than one sense. The changes in the 1960s started a process of taking Newcastle out of its industrial context, but they coincided with, and were exacerbated by, a decline in the industrial economy. This was a time when the city started to suffer from the unemployment following from the decrease in industrial jobs. In 1956 Japan had emerged as world leader in shipbuilding. From 1960 to 1965, the output in British shipbuilding fell by 19 per cent, while Japan experienced a staggering increase of 210 per cent. Compe- tition was also building up closer to home. In the same period, the output in Swedish shipbuilding increased by 78 per cent. Part of that increase benefited Kockums and contributed to the industrial economy of Malmö.216 The same ––––––––– 212 Todd, (1999), pp. 96-97. 213 Vall, (2000), p. 79. 214 Todd, (1999), pp. 98-99. 215 Todd, (1999), pp. 99-101. 216 Vall, (2001), pp. 59.

96 market changes that boosted Malmö’s industrial economy brought unemployment and insecurity to Newcastle. The Newcastle of the 1960s was a city on its way out of its industrial past. Labour’s reforms were part of that reorientation, but there were also external causes behind the transition. At the end of the day, large parts of the population were left worrying about their jobs and about their future. In 1967 the Labour Party lost its majority in the local election, in the wake of Labour’s loss of governmental power in 1966. In the meantime, the constellation of Progressives had dissolved, and so it was the Conservative Party that rose to power in the City Council. Much had happened during the Labour years. It is perhaps symptomatic that, by the time of the Conservative victory, they would no longer rule from the Town Hall. The City Council had moved from the Town Hall in 1963 into a newly built civic centre, which, on T. Dan Smith’s instructions, had been fash- ioned as a modernist copy of Stockholms stadshus (The Stockholm City Hall).217 By the end of the 1960s, and in the 1970s, Newcastle was facing a situation much like that of the 1830s and 1840s. The city was being rebuilt to facilitate new forms of distribution and to make room for new commercial sites. Motor- ways crossed the city centre. The impressive railway bridges, and the combined railway and car bridges, were complemented with a new bridge for cars – the New Scotswood Bridge, built in 1967. As for the west and the east ends of the city, the gradual loss of industrial employment led to the deterioration of those communities where the male inhabitants had mainly been employed in the large shipyards, engineering works and ammunition factories. In 1971, the unemployment figures for men was 8.8 per cent, compared to 3 per cent for women. A decade later, the figures had risen to 16.2 per cent for men and 5.6 per cent for women. Houses in the old residential areas in the east and west ends were torn down and rebuilt in accordance with a new architectural ideal – epitomised by the concept of neighbourhood units. Seen from some of the planners’ point of view, it would be better if the people in the affected communities were relocated to these new houses. The ambition was to create socially sustainable residential areas, but that ambition was combined with, perhaps even subordinated to, the plans for traffic management. According to David Bryne, the rebuilding of the Shieldfield residential area in the East End was the most successful effort from a social point of view. Chruddas Park in Elswick in the West End came out worst, with Byker and Walker ending up in between.218 The history of Newcastle in the 1960s and 1970s that we have recounted so far emphasises the decline of the industrial economy and the reforms initiated by Labour. There were other important changes as well, notably in the retail sector. They will be treated in part two of the book. For the time being, it suffices to point to the rise of Labour as a major political force, the party’s sharp competition with the Conservatives, its actions and reactions to industrial change, and the repercussions of all this on city life. ––––––––– 217 Todd, pp. 100-101. 218 Bryne David, “The reconstruction of Newcastle: Planning since 1945”, in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), pp.342-347. Vall, (2001), p. 61.

97 Let us, before we take leave of Newcastle, make one more detour into La- bour’s reform efforts. Building and rebuilding formed an integral part of these efforts, leaving visible signs in the form of a city adapted to cars, new buildings, and new types of housing. Much of the local Labour Party’s interest in the physical environment derived from T. Dan Smith. His visions were much inspired by the modernist style of Swedish design and by the low-cost building technique developed by AB Skånska Cement (which had now changed its name to Skan- ska). Thus, in 1963, T. Dan Smith and the Housing Committee in Newcastle made a visit to Scandinavia. One of their stops was in Malmö, the locus of AB Skånska Cement, and the ideas they gathered from their Scandinavian tour would soon materialise back in Newcastle.219 So what was Malmö like in 1963? Our account of Malmö above stopped short of the 1960s. It took us as far as the transformation from trading town to industrial city, with a brief introduction of the role of local working-class organisations. We have also caught a glimpse of what happened afterwards: an economic upsurge taking off in the mid-1950s, a cement industry on the rise, a renowned ship-building industry favoured by the waves of the market. These are the outer contours of Malmö in the 1960s. Yet, in order to get a picture of the city at the time of the British visit, we must fill out these contours with more information on the socio-political conditions in 20th-century Malmö. This is our next task. We begin by taking a leap back in time to 1917, which was a time of scarcity even in non-belligerent Sweden. At this juncture, workers mainly had to rely on direct action if they were to exert an influence on the politics. On April 25 1917, at two o-clock in the afternoon, an ocean of approximately 30,000 demonstrators filled Stortorget (the Large Square) in Malmö. They stood outside the Town Hall, awaiting an answer to their demands for more supply of food. Inside the Town Hall was a deputation from the local branch of the SAP, sent out to communicate their demands. The message they received was that the mayor and the chairman of the City Council were working on a solution to their problems, and that the Department in charge of rationing had made a promise that Malmö would get 8,000 extra coupons for bread.220 What is of immediate interest in our context is not so much the hardships of the worried citizens of Malmö, nor the concrete results they obtained, but rather the composition of the delegation sent out to represent them. They were leading members of the local branch of the Social Democratic Party. At least one, and possibly two, of these delegates were also members of the board of Solidar, and a third man was a director of Seger.221 There is thus an overlap between the lead- ––––––––– 219 Vall, (2000), pp. 66-67. 220 Bjurling Oscar, “Kultur och okultur i krig och fred”, in Malmö stads historia, (1989), p. 38-39. 221 The delegation was made up of August Åkesson, Karl Ekberg, Axel Lindskog, J. P. Berglund, Anna Linder, Olof Andersson and Lorens Hylén. Bjurling, (1989), p. 38. In the Annual Report of Solidar from 1917 we can see that August Åkesson and Axel Lindskog were directors. A picture of the delegation in 1917 and a picture of August Åkesson in one of the jubilee histories of Solidar make it possible for me to be sure that the August Åkesson in the delegation was the same as the August Åkesson on the board of Solidar. Elldin, (1957), year 1917. To make sure that the Axel Lindskog in the deputation was the same Axel Lindskog on the board of Solidar further inquiries

98 ing strata of the local branch of the SAP and the consumer co-operative societies. We have already pointed out, and it deserves to be said again, that this does not mean that one can equate Social Democracy with Co-operation. But it is nevertheless a fact that many prominent Co-operators were also prominent Social De- mocrats in Malmö. This is important to keep in mind when we deal with the internal politics of co-operation later on in this book. There is yet another notable aspect of the protests in 1917, when leading So- cial Democrats in Malmö marched into the Town Hall to obtain answers from the political leadership of the city. Only two years later, the SAP won the local elections and ended up in the majority in the City Council. The SAP now formed the political leadership of Malmö, and the party retained its majority position throughout the better part of the 20th century, up until 1985. For a very long time- span the Social Democrats thus had the formal power of initiative. However, scholars have shown that, rather than acting on a self-formulated initiative, leading SAP politicians in Malmö entered into a politics of negotiations with the leaders of the economic elite of the city, who were politically affiliated with or belonged to the opposition.222 This politics of compromise is the most conspicuous theme in the literature on Malmö. However, scholarly work in progress shows that the consensus was not unanimous. Disappointed workers took to the Parliament of the Streets by initiating wildcat strikes in the Inter-War Years.223 Just like in Newcastle, the end of the First World War brought unemployment to Malmö, which at the beginning of the 1930s became much aggravated . The situation for the unemployed had been on the agenda of the City Council as early as 1914, but it was only ten years later that the issue spawned political conflict in the city. For in 1924 the Social Democrats ruled in the Town Hall, and the City Council decided to grant financial benefits to the unemployed even in cases where no relief work could be arranged. That decision provoked protests from the opposition. In 1928, the County Administrative Board stopped these payments, with the motivation that it was in opposition to the Poor Relief Legis- lation. The issue was resolved on a national level in 1933, to the advantage of the unemployed. By the time of the 1930s, unemployment figures increased significantly – both nationally and in Malmö. Many households had to depend on relief benefits. In Malmö, 2,600 workers were unemployed in 1931; three years later, the figure was 5,200. Even if relief work was no longer an absolute condition for financial

are needed. See Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser 1917 Kooperativa Bageri Föreningen Soli- dar, p. 7, in FKFS 1907-1940. For photo of August Åkesson in the delegation see Bjurling, (1989), p. 38 and in Nilsson Frans, Gemenskap: En krönika om Solidar under 75 år, (1982), Konsumentfö- renignen Solidar, Malmö, p. 110. J. P Berglund was a member of Seger’s board, see Elldin, (1957), year 1925. 222 Billing and Stiegendal, (1994). 223 Nyzell Stefan, "Spottloskor, gatsten, sablar och batonger. Reflektioner kring kollektiv aktion och kollektivt våld vid studier av sociala protester i mellankrigstidens Sverige", in Sociala konflikter och kulturella processer. Historia med människor i centrum, (2004), Eds. Nils Andersson, Lars Berggren & Mats Greiff, Lärarutbildningen Malmö Högskola, Malmö.

99 aid, a large portion of these workers were engaged in relief work, resulting in an improvement of infrastructure and council services, e.g. sewers and sports grounds. Other infrastructural jobs were performed simultaneously by workers in regular employment. They built new houses for worker households that had saved money to invest in the new flats of the co-operative housing organisation – Hyresgästernas Sparkasse- och Byggnadsförening (The Tenants’ Savings and Building Association), henceforth referred to as HSB. Housing was in fact a major issue in Malmö. The housing situation had been very difficult for people of small means during the first two decades of the 20th century. And even though HSB and other builders built many apartment blocks, the problem of overcrowd- ing was not solved.224 This problem remained at the end of the Second World War, and housing would continue to be an issue in the Post-War period, albeit for different reasons. Despite the social and economic difficulties that burdened 20th-century Malmö up to the Second World War, the City Council expanded both its scope of jurisdiction and the resources at its disposal. This prepared the ground for social reforms designed to improve the material conditions for people of small means. Other reforms, also made possible by the wider range of action of the City Council, altered the cityscape. For just like in Newcastle, Malmö has been subjected to a considerable physical transformation. In contrast to Newcastle, however, where the bulk of changes took place in a very short time-span, the physical transformation of Malmö was spread out over several decades. The changes were thus less abrupt, and their impact less immediate. To some extent, the topographical conditions of Malmö facilitated an incremental approach to reconstruction. Malmö is situated on the flat farmland of Skåne, whereas Newcastle city planners would have to grapple with differences in altitude on the steep bank of the Tyne, which tends to make any alteration of traffic routes drastic. Malmö, by contrast, was fit for cars long before they roamed the streets of the city. This was, of course, not only an effect of topogra- phy. It is equally important that city planning in Malmö had an anticipatory character. Even in the Inter-War Period, the city engineer and planner Anders Nilsson – more known as Major Nilsson – made plans to improve city communications, e.g. by widening the streets and connecting the different parts of Malmö with each other. His successors on the post held on to these plans, and coordinated them with the building activities of HSB, Riksbyggen (another co- operative housing association) and Malmö kommunala bostadsbolag (The Cor- poration Housing Company of Malmö). Traffic management and housing developments thus ran parallel over a period of 50 years.225 The efforts, from the Inter-War Period onwards, to provide the inhabitants with high-standard housing was not enough. Thus, in the 1960s, politicians and ––––––––– 224 Malmsten, (1989), pp. 190-195. 225 Ranby Henrik, ”Stadsplanering och arkitektur efter 1820”, in Malmö stads historia sjätte delen/1939-1990, (1992), Stadsfullmäktige i Malmö. See also Karta öfver staden Malmö med dertill lydande egor, Bjurling Oscar, ”Småstaden blir stor. Halvseklet 1820-1870 i Malmö”, in Malmö stads historia, (1981), between p. 36 and 37.

100 planners in Malmö introduced grand plans for how to get rid of the last physical evidence of the first expansion in working-class housing, dating from the middle of the 19th century. Former working-class housing areas like Lugnet had ended up in what was now, after the expansion of the residential areas of Malmö, the centre of the city. To some SAP politicians, such areas were painful reminders of a poor city; they would refer to these areas as slums, and they wished to get rid of them. And so they did.226 This was what Malmö was like in 1963, at the time when T. Dan Smith and his colleagues arrived for their visit. The ship-building industry experienced good years, and the City Council, where Social Democrats had been in the majority for 44 years, had plenty of resources at its disposal. For decades, the city had been adapted and moulded in a way that suited modern conditions, with wide streets, novel functionalist buildings, and modern housing. Last but not least, the visitors could witness the latest feature in house-building, introduced around 1960, namely the use of prefabricated cement elements in construction. At the time of T. Dan Smith's visit, a new housing area – Rosengård – was being built, using these new building techniques. The British delegation could both study the new building techniques up close at Skanska, and see what the giant ready-mades were like once they had been set up. The erection of the new housing area called Rosengård marked a break with the previous policy in Malmö's city planning. It was part of a recently introduced policy for how the city should expand. Until the 1960s city planners in Malmö had held on to the ideal of keeping the district of the city together, and refraining from creating any satellite suburbs. All this changed with the slum clearance and with the introduction of the national housing program called miljonprogrammet (The Million Program), which set up the goal that one million publicly owned flats should be built from 1965 to 1975. A lot of old houses – some of them were run down, others were not – were torn down in the city centre, and satellite suburbs with high-rise apartment blocks, mainly situated outside the ring road around Malmö, were built.227 Even if the physical transformation of Malmö was more gradual than that of Newcastle, the period from 1960 to the middle of the 1970s brought comparatively rapid, visible, and sometimes criticised changes in Malmö, too. In fact, the plans for the expansion of Malmö that were drawn up in the beginning of the 1960s, covering the next twenty years, resembled T. Dan Smith’s visions for Newcastle in radicality and grandeur. The main difference was that Malmö's cityscape and traffic management had been subjected to gradual alteration ever since the 1920s, thus preparing the ground for the planners and building con- structors of the 1960s. The long period of Social Democratic rule was no doubt instrumental for the full implementation of social reforms in the housing sector, as well as for the extension of public administration. Yet, this does not mean that SAP rule was unre- stricted. Gathering from Billing’s and Stiegendal’s studies, the momentum in lo- ––––––––– 226 Svenning Olle, Lojaliteter, min far(s), (1995), Fischer & Co, Stockholm, pp. 98-99, 114-115. 227 Randby, (1992), pp. 88-92, 137-138.

101 cal politics came rather from overlapping elite networks, which produced a will to compromise and to make things happen. Leading representatives of the local branch of the SAP were not only connected with other working-class organisations, such as the co-operative housing organisations, they also formed networks with right-wing politicians in the opposition and with influential businessmen.228 The case of Emil Olsson provides an illustration of how dual memberships created links between different organisations in Malmö. Olsson ends up in the background in Billing’s and Stiegendal’s account, but he will be a very important figure in this book. Emil Olsson was among the prominent leaders of the local branch of the SAP, serving as chairman of the City Council from 1927 to 1949.229 He was also the chief executive of Solidar. We will have occasion to become more acquainted with him in the following parts. The main purpose of this paragraph has been to set the stage and give the reader a sense of place. It provides a rough sketch of the two cities and of their respective histories. Needless to say, any such account is bound to be highly se- lective, and the selection of themes is related to what is going to be presented in the remainder of the book. Some pieces of these histories will reemerge explicitly in the empirical parts, others will serve as a general interpretive background in the concluding part of the book.

––––––––– 228 Billing and Stiegendal, (1994), pp. 239-245. 229 Malmsten, (1989), pp. 185-186.

102 Part 2. Co-operative retail services and shopping at the Co-op

From now on we will acquaint ourselves properly with The Newcastle Co- operative Society Ltd. and Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar. And in this second part of the book, the focus will be on the retail services they furnished their members and shoppers with. To be sure, the two societies also provided members with educational and recreational activities, but these will be dealt with elsewhere. The two chapters that make up this part have instead a more narrowly circumscribed purpose, namely to follow the contours of developments in business- related service provisions. They portray, if you wish, the visible results of underlying, ongoing decision-making processes, and of the self-imposed and external constraints that shape their outcome. Before we embark upon that journey, however, a few remarks are needed so as to give the reader a sense of direction. The story in the first chapter works its way from a bird’s-eye view to a perspective closer to that of concrete shoppers and members. It begins with an account of the objects and means of the two societies, as expressed in their statutes and rules, thus bringing attention to the connections between local development and legal framework. Local developments, in turn, form the topic of the next two sections. Sections 1.2 and 1.3 provide a chronological outline of the development of co-operative stores and services in Newcastle and Malmö. They describe the extent of the co-operative business in the two societies, and how the number of stores and services changes over time. They also put these developments into the retail context of the two cities, thus allowing us to see how local competition and alterations in the cityscape changed the conditions for retail trade. In Chapter 2, we step into the stores and view the changes in store structure and trading practice from the shopping members’ point of view. In the first section I apply a generational perspective, and a branch (Newcastle) and district (Malmö) perspective, on the changes in store structure and trading practice, in order to get closer to the outlook of shopping members. Hence, we leave the bird’s-eye view of the development of co-operative services and stores applied in Chapter 1 and consider the fact that the experience of shopping at the Co-op changed from one generation to the next. In the following section, 2.2, the primary purpose is to take a closer look at certain duties and rights related to the practice of shopping in the Co-op, which made shopping along co-operative lines different from shopping in non-co-operative stores. The rights and duties of

103 shopping members in the Co-op stores illustrate how co-operative principles and values materialised in actual practices. In the final section of Chapter 2 we consider how the two societies handled what was, in a co-operative context, the difficult question of credit. The introduction of credit did not square with the co- operative principles introduced in the 19th century, which in turn implied that co- operative credit arrangements came to differ from those of other retailers. All in all, the consecutive chapters and sections take us through the various aspects of service development in our two consumer co-operative societies. We get a close look at the opening of stores, the provision of services, and the practice of co-operative trading. As a preamble to that venture, we will first examine the formal objects and means laid down in the statutes of the two societies.

1. Co-operative retail services Our discussion in the first part has already contained a brief presentation of the legal framework worked out for co-operative activities in the 19th and early 20th centuries. The next issue to consider is how these legal matters relate to the objects, means and practices of concrete societies. We start out on the British Isles. Before we commence, it is perhaps useful with a sobering reminder that the existence of a law is one thing, the observance of that law another. In fact, our previous discussions have already proved that point, namely in the case of the Industrial and Providence Act of 1852. For despite the fact that the act did not grant British co-operative societies the right to provide their members with educational activities, co-operatives which had already started such activities were reluctant to change their programs. So there you have it: practices are not always adjusted to what the legal framework permits. While this caveat is important, it is nevertheless instructive to examine changes in the legal framework for co-operatives, with an eye to what activities were sanctioned by law. New societies were obliged to register, and in doing so they had to get their rules accepted by the registrar. Hence, the rules could not include aims and activities not sanctioned by law. While the restrictions imposed by the legal framework may not be completely confining in all instances, their effects on practices cannot be neglected. Both Cole and Gosden claim that it was with the introduction of the Friendly Societies Act of 1846, especially with the “frugal investment clause”, that co- operative societies gained a definite place in the legal system.230 According to this act co-operative societies could be established for the purpose of: ‘…frugal investment of the savings of the members, for better enabling them to purchase food, firing, clothes, or other necessaries, or the tools or implements of their trade or calling, or to provide for the education of

––––––––– 230 Cole, (1947), pp. 117-118. Gosden, (1979), p. 191.

104 their children or kindred, with or without the assistance of charitable donations…’231 This act also prohibited co-operative societies from trading with any other than its members – a prohibition that, according to Gosden, affected co-operatives involved in producing and selling goods more than those which were mainly concerned with distributing them.232 Moreover, co-operative societies were only allowed to hold personal property through trustees, and they were not allowed to hold landed property at all.233 Then came the act of 1852, which, apart from not granting co-operative societies the right to provide their members with educational facilities, also barred co-operatives from entering the branches of mining, quarrying and banking. In practice, these restrictions were hindrances for the expansion of co-operative stores, especially for the establishment of federal co- operative societies. Yet, as we have already seen, this legal framework changed during the second half of the 19th century. A series of legislative changes between 1862 and 1876 opened up for a broader range of activities and more options for co-operative management, thus loosening up the few knots restricting the expansion of co- operative trade. The most important changes were those which gave co-operative societies the possibility to invest in other co-operative ventures. They made possible, among other things, the establishment of federal co-operative societies such as the CWS. Additionally, the new legal framework introduced in 1871 permitted co-operatives to own land and property, to give loans to members on the security of real or personal property, and in 1876 to enter the banking business.234 It was these changes that, according to Gosden, placed the industrial and provident societies on an equal footing with companies registered under the Company Act, much improving the societies' performance as trading societies. However, the societies still retained important features of Friendly Societies, such as the methods of dealing with disputes and cases of fraud, and the simple and cheap system of registration.235 The situation in Sweden was somewhat different. Up until 1895, societies of a co-operative character which nevertheless wanted to enjoy legal protection had to register under the Company Act. Being registered as companies, these societies were free to sell their goods to all who wished to purchase. The Association Act of 1895 was designed to create a legal framework that was better adapted to the situation of associations, but it prohibited societies from selling goods to non- members. That restriction was a source of trouble for societies that wished to register under the new act, as can be seen from the example of Norrahammars han- delsförening. In 1899, Norrhammars handelsförening handed in their proposed rules to the Registrar, i.e. to Länsstyrelsen (The County Administrative Board). The rules ––––––––– 231 Quoted in Gosden, (1979), p. 191. 232 Gosden, (1979), pp. 191-192. 233 Cole, (1947), p. 118. 234 Cole, (1947), p. 124. 235 Gosden, (1979), p. 194.

105 stated that the purpose of the society was to sell goods principally to members. The word principally caused much debate, and Länsstyrelsen refused to register the society. The case was taken to the Court, and it was confirmed that the act from 1895 prescribed that the societies registering under that could only sell goods to members. It was further stated that the main purpose of societies registering under that act should be to purchase and sell provisions and other goods to its members. The scholarly literature has interpreted the prohibition against selling to non-members as a device to ensure that co-operative societies and their members would not take advantage of the trade with non-members, who did not receive any dividend on their purchases. It also suggests that there were strong sentiments among representatives of trading companies and joint stock companies that the trading societies should only be able to sell to members.236 The Association Act of 1895 also imposed other restrictions on co-operative societies. It prohibited them from trading on credit, a clause which particularly affected the farmers’ purchase associations, whose members seldom had ready cash to pay with. In 1911, when the Association Act was revised, the societies were allowed to trade with non-members, but only cash trade. That revision also prevented co-operatives from running any regular banking business; from that date on, only members could deposit sums in their societies or in the KF Savings Bank.237 In terms of what activities co-operatives were allowed to start, this legal framework remained in force for the entire period of our inquiry, i.e. up to 1970. The revision of the Association Act in 1951 did not introduce any new regulations in this regard. Our account above is mainly based on Tore Johansson’s essay “Samhällets spelregler i förändring – kooperativ lagstiftning” from 1999. His essay is a careful analysis of the origin and revisions of the Association Act, and provides ample illustrations of the different problems caused by the restrictions it imposed. It may seem petty to go on to point out its limitations, but that task is indeed no less important. What is lacking in his analysis is the conscious reactions of associations to deal with, circumvent, and relate to the letter of the law. There are interesting instances of this, e.g. the strategies employed by societies registering under the Association Act to evade – at least in part – the prohibition against trade with non-members. A glance at the statistics on co-operatives collected by Kungliga Socialstyrelsen (‘The Royal Board of Health and Welfare’) from 1908 to 1910 reveals that they contain a category called sales to non-members. To be sure, both consumer co-operative societies and co-operative bakery societies had information about sales to non-members. In 1909, for example, 28 per cent of Kooperativa Föreningen Svea’s sales in Helsingborg were sales to non-members, and in Malmö 16 per cent of the Arbetarringens Bageriförening sales were sales to non-members.238 How does this square with the prohibition of sales to non- members? ––––––––– 236 Johansson, (1999), pp. 15-16. 237 Ruin, (1960), p. 57. See also Part Four, Chapter 1. 238 ”Tab. 1 (forts.). Konsumtionsföreningar: Allmänna uppgifter år 1909. A. Till Kooperativa förbun- det anslutna föreningar.” and ”Tab. 4 (forts). Konsumenternas produktionsföreningar: Allmänna

106 The explanation is found in a comment to the statistics. The commentary explains that it was a contested issue whether societies should be allowed to sell goods to non-members, and that the law was not always obeyed. In some counties, societies admitting to selling goods to non-members were still granted registration, while the Registrar in other counties followed the law to the letter and refused to grant registration. In the context of the current study it is interesting to note that in Malmöhus län (Malmöhus County) societies that sold to non- members could be granted registration. It can be further noted that – with the exception of Kopparbergs län – the expansion of co-operation was hampered in those counties where the Registrar was more strict.239 In the period covered by these statistics, i.e. between 1908 and 1910, approximately eighty societies stated every year that they paid dividend to non-members. Usually the dividend on purchases paid to non-members was somewhat lower than that paid to members.240 By granting a dividend to non-members, societies could appease the legislature and avoid the suspicion of taking advantage of customers who, strictly speaking, were not entitled to any. Moreover, it is presumed by the commentator that many societies traded with non-members as a way of recruiting new members. In practical terms, this meant that non-members would receive a dividend on purchases made in the society during the year on condition that they had saved their receipts and applied for membership by the end of that year.241 The prohibition against sales to non-members, as expressed in the verdict of the court case against Norrahammars handelsförening, was made obsolete with the revision of the Association Act in 1911. There is currently no research available as to the question whether, in the meantime, there had also been amendments, or changes in legal practice, to soften these legal strictures. What is clear from the comments in the statistics from Kungliga Socialstyrelsen, however, is that a practice for trading with non-members had developed before the Associa- tion Act gave formal sanction to that kind of trade. Yet, if legal rules sometimes fall short of determining the practices of co- operative societies, they are nevertheless important boundary conditions. Socie- ties had to get their rules approved by the registrar in order to register as co- operative societies. Needless to say, this holds true for our two societies as well. Let us therefore move on to consider the objects and purposes inscribed in the Rules of the Newcastle Society and Solidar. The rules and regulations of a consumer co-operative society serve as a sort of local 'constitution': they communicate the formal objects of the society, and lay down the means – read principles – to reach these objects. Thus, a description of these rules, and their successive re-

uppgifter år 1909” in Kooperativ verksamhet i Sverige åren 1908-1910 av K. Socialstyrelsen, Sve- riges Officiella Statistik Socialstatistik, pp. 200-201, 512-513. 239 The counties that did not grant registration to societies selling goods to non-members under the Association Act were Kronoberg, Gotland, Blekinge, Älvsborg, Skaraborg, Kopparberg, Jämtland and Västerbotten counties. 240 Kooperativ Verksamhet i Sverige Åren 1908-1910 av K. Socialstyrelsen, Sveriges Officiella Stati- stik Socialstatistik, pp. 73-74, 120-121. 241 Kooperativ verksamhet i Sverige åren 1908-1910 av K. Socialstyrelsen, pp. 120-121.

107 visions, will provide the most immediate framework for the workings of a local consumer co-operative society. We will begin with the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society. It was formed in 1860, just before the onset of that liberalisation of legislation which paved the way for a broader range of activities in co-operative societies. Unfor- tunately, there are no surviving copies of the Newcastle Society's first statutes; the first available statutes in fact date from 1905. But we are not completely empty-handed. The jubilee history of the Newcastle Society from 1886 informs us that one of the first expenses of the society was a copy of the statutes of the Rochdale Society of Equitable Pioneers.242 While it would be too strong a assumption to suggest that the Newcastle Society emulated the Rochdale statutes in every detail, that purchase alone is significant enough to warrant special attention to the objects in the rules of the Rochdale Pioneers Society: The object and plans of this society are to form arrangements for the pecuniary benefit, and improvement of the social and domestic conditions of members by raising a sufficient amount of capital in shares of one pound each, to bring into operation the following plans and arrangements. The establishment of a store for the sale of provisions, clothing etc. The building, purchasing or erecting of a number of houses, in which those members desiring to assist each other in improving their domestic and social conditions may reside. To commence the manufacture of such articles as the Society may determine upon, for the employment of such members as may be without employment or who may be suffering in consequences of repeated reduction in their wages. As a further benefit and security to the members of this Society, the Society shall purchase or rent an estate or estates of land, which shall be cultivated by members who may be out of employment, or whose labour may be badly remunerated. That as soon as practicable the Society shall proceed to arrange the powers of production, distribution, education and governance, or in other words, to establish a self-supporting home colony of united interests, or assist other societies in establishing such colonies. That for the promotion of sobriety, a temperance hotel be opened in one of the society’s houses as soon as convenient. [Italics added]243 The pioneer status of the Rochdale Society makes it likely that the founders of the Newcastle Society were inspired by these statutes when writing their own. Moreover, what was perhaps more important was that there was a perfectly good rationale for using an established society's rules as a blueprint to aid the formulation of your own statutes. After all, the overriding interest of a society-to-be was to make sure that the proposed statutes would pass the examination of the regis-

––––––––– 242 A Brief Account of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society from 1860 to 1886, p. 1. 243 An abstract from the first ”Law” of the Rochdale Society in 1844, quoted in Davies Peter, ”Roch- dale: A re-evaluation of co-operative history”, in Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth. Essays in the History of Co-operation, 150 Years of Co-operation, Eds. Lancaster Bill and Maguire Paddy, (1996), Co-operative College and the History Workshop Trust, Manchester, p. 116.

108 trar, and an inexpensive and safe way of achieving that was to copy the rules of societies which had already been approved.244 If we consult the first surviving rules, drawn up 44 years after the society commenced its business, the wording differs from that of the Rochdale Pioneers. There is no way of telling to what extent these differences existed from the very beginning, and to what extent they are the result of later changes in the statutes. Once again, however, there are some things that we can say with reasonable cer- tainty, and, to bring them out, we quote the 1905 version of the statutes: The objects of the society are to carry on the trades of dealers in and manufactures of food, firing, clothing, and any other commodities, and of the buying and selling of land for cultivation or other purposes. It [the society] shall have full powers to do all things necessary or expedient for the accomplishment of these objects, including the power to purchase, hold, sell, mortgage, rent, lease or sub-lease, lands of any tenure, and to erect, pull down, repair, alter, or otherwise deal with any building thereon, and it shall also have power to make advances to members upon the security of real or leasehold property or lands. [Italics added]245 The first sentence echoes the “frugal investment clause” from the 1846 Act of Friendly Societies, and is possibly a remnant from the earliest versions of the statutes. The text following the italicised part, on the other hand, must be of more recent date – it refers to activities which were not allowed until the revision of the Industrial and Provident Societies Act in 1871. Let us, however, focus on the italics for a little while. That passage, with its inclusive and carefully specified list of what the society can do with its property, is indicative of a process of sedimentation: objects and means are made increasingly specific in response to practicalities and particular circumstances. Now, if the wording of this passage is a product of successive revisions, and there is reason to suspect so, it remains possible that the first statutes of Newcastle Society were indeed grafted upon those of the Rochdale Pioneers. For insofar as the society managed to fulfil these objects, it can be claimed that they created “…arrangements for the pecuniary benefit, and improvement of the social and domestic conditions of members”, as prescribed by the Rochdale rules. With this said, we can bracket the question of what the original statutes looked like, and the nature and extent of consecutive changes, and concentrate instead on the objects and means formulated in the statutes from 1905 onwards. The first notable feature is that the objects of the Newcastle Society did not change very much between the beginning of the twentieth century and 1970, ––––––––– 244 In the Introduction to the article ”Rochdale Model Rules” we find the line ”Rules fair to all, and securing legal aid,”, see ”Rochdale Model Rules”, The Co-operator, March 1863. And there is proof that co-operative model rules had been adopted as early as the Co-operative Congress 1832, but we know little of its implementation, see Davis, (1996), p. 116. See also Darvill, (1954), p. 3. 245 Proposed Rules 1904-1905 in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 Decem- ber 1905. These rules were adopted at a special meeting in November 1904. In the proposed rules we also find the line “…and also to provide educational facilities for its members.” But this was not approved by the members see: Minutes Special General Meeting 23rd November 1904, in 120/106.

109 when the society joined the North Eastern Co-operative Society. The wording has changed somewhat in the 1963 formulation of the society's objects and means, but the alterations are limited. The only substantial change entails the omission of the last line from the 1905 statutes, about the advance of money on the security of real or leasehold property or land. This, however, is a ratification after the fact, for the practice itself was discontinued in 1959.246 All in all, the objects of the society have remained relatively stable during the period that we have information on. Next we will turn to Solidar in Malmö. Solidar was founded during the interlude between the first formulation of the Association Act in 1895 and its revision in 1911. In contrast to the Newcastle Society, we do have access to Solidar's first statutes. They date from 1908, and state that the object of the society was to sell the products produced by the members at current prices. Judging by that object the society was a worker co-operative. However, Paragraph 8 of the same rules informs us that a part of the surplus should be distributed in proportion to purchases made from the society, and that the workers in the bakery and the delivery men should receive the same per cent on their labour as the member consumers did on their purchases. Hence, it was a mixed consumer and worker co-operative society.247 Important changes came as early as 1910, when the society joined KF. The statutes were modified in order to correspond with KF’s model rules. However, three out of seven seats on the board were still reserved for workers in the employ of the society.248 But changes in the statutes in 1910, 1916 and 1920 gradually turned the society into a co-operative consumer society. In the statutes from 1916 it was still stated: The activity of the Society should be the distribution of bakery products produced by the shareholders.[Italics added]249 While this formulation retains the mixed worker/consumer status of the society, Paragraph 7, where the distribution of surplus is addressed, contains nothing about any dividend on labour going to the workers. It says only that, after the distribution to a couple of funds have been made, “…the remaining surplus is distributed to the members in proportion to their annual purchases.”250 Solidar was still a combined consumer and worker co-operative society, but workers now only received a dividend on their share capital and on their purchases. The transformation of Solidar into an exclusive consumer co-operative society was completed in 1920, when KF’s model rules, type D, were accepted: ––––––––– 246 Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited 1963, p. 1. For the development of the mortgage scheme see Part Four, Section 2.1. 247 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, (1908), Paragraphs 2 and 8. 248 See Part Three, Chapter 2. 249 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar” u. p. a. i Malmö, (1916), p. 1, author’s translation. 250 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar” u. p. a. i Malmö, (1916), p. 2, author’s translation.

110 The society, which is made up of an association of consumers in Malmö and the surrounding countryside, aims at promoting the housekeeping/economising of its members – in co-operation with Kooperativa För- bundet – by acquiring sound and unadulterated food stuff and other goods to it members at the current prices in the city and for cash payment. The Society shall secure the realisation of its aims by creating a collective capital base.251 From this point on, Solidar was a consumer co-operative society. There are other interesting features of these statutes as well. Compare Solidar's object, “to promote the housekeeping/economising of its members”, with the corresponding clause in the statutes of the Rochdale Pioneers, which states the object as that of forming "arrangements for the pecuniary benefit, and improvement of the social and domestic conditions of members". There is obviously common ground here. In both cases, it is the member households that should benefit from membership in the consumer co-operative society. But there is a subtle difference between the statutes. In the case of the objects of the Rochdale Pioneers, members should also benefit financially from their membership, and it is likely that this formulation falls back on the “frugal investment clause” from the 1846 Act of Friendly Societies. We will take note of this difference here, and come back to it in Part Four when we examine the members’ economic participation in their societies. For the time being, we shall return instead to the issue of rule change. Apart from the early rule revisions, which transformed Solidar into a consumer co- operative society, there are also other interesting alterations in the history of the society. Thus, for example, a new clause was inserted in the 1937 version of Solidar's rules. The novel clause was introduced in the paragraph on objects, and it proposed, as an explicit aim, that Solidar should encourage thrift among its members. According to the new clause, members should be encouraged to save money in their society. The idea was that this money would be used to finance the society’s business operations.252 The object to encourage the members to deposit and save money in the society, i.e. to be thrifty, lives on into the 1952 version of the rules. This time, however, the emphasis on thrift coexists with the admission that the society is allowed to sell goods on credit, provided that the extent of credit sales does not force Solidar itself to buy on credit, thereby jeopard- ising its sound economy.253 Finally, there is one further aspect of rule change – more global, as it were – which deserves to be mentioned. Towards the end of the period under study, the paragraph on objects has expanded. It seems as if there was a need to explain and be more detailed in the communication with the members. Thus, in the 1970 version of the rules, the statutes not only contain detailed information as to the con- ––––––––– 251 See Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid ordinarie halvårsstämma i Malmö den 29 Aug. 1920 med Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidar u.p.a. i Malmö, attached to Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn. Diverse Handlingar, author’s translation. 252 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a., Malmö 1937, p. 1. 253 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Malmö, u. p. a. 1952, p.1.

111 tents of an educational program, but they also explain what sort of consumer information the society should spread, and proclaim that the society, and the Con- sumer Co-operative movement generally, should protect the interests of consumers. The statutes, in other words, contain a mixture of detailed points and more symbolic, abstractly formulated aims. And both these tendencies are presumably adjustments to a combination of entrenched organisational practices and member demands. So while the objects and means of the statutes are self-imposed constraints on action at any particular moment in time, they are also the result of the very practices they regulate. There is room for interplay between rules and practices. To cite but one such instance, the rules of 1970 erase the lines introduced in 1920 that the society should sell KF’s products at current prices for cash payment, and replace it with the formulation that Solidar should, in the most efficient way, purchase and sell to the members such goods that they need.254 That revision takes away detailed, and confining, specifications, and gives the organisation more latitude for action. It is indeed an adjustment, in this case to entrenched organisational practices. Let us, as a last point, take a comparative stance, and bring out a few additional points. First of all, there is a basic similarity between the two societies in the contents of the rules. The main activity of the two societies was to provide the members with the goods they required. There are also differences, e.g. that the Newcastle Society was also committed to providing mortgages, and that the rules of Solidar contain specific instructions regarding cash payment, education, information and means of acquiring resources for the co-operative business.255 Secondly, these contents are, to a certain extent, constrained by national legal frameworks, but they are also shaped by other circumstances. Rather than at- tempting to provide an exhaustive list of such circumstances – which, by their very nature, are likely to vary empirically and can only be addressed in concrete analyses – it is useful to address an issue that is liable to be obscured when the countries are considered in isolation. It concerns the notion of model rules, which appears in our account of the British and Swedish cases above. The fact that "model rules" figure in Britain and Sweden alike invites the conclusion that such rules perform the same function in, and thus signal an important similarity between, the countries. This, however, is not the case. The terminology may be the same, but the uses and functions of model rules differ substantially, and what, at first blush, appeared to be a similarity is instead a mark of difference. To be able to see this, we must take a closer look at the relation between local, federal and international co-operative developments in relation to the question of model rules. In the case of Britain, the Rochdale Rules – and rules from other societies that had passed the examination of the registrar – gained the status of model rules. These rules served as models, in the sense that imitating them was a safe, expedient way of ensuring that your own rules would be accepted. They were spread ––––––––– 254 Stadgar Konsumentföreningen Solidar, Malmö 1970, p. 1. 255 We will return to the changes in the rules that concern mortgage and saving schemes and the financing of the co-operative businesses in Part Four.

112 all over the country, helping new societies to gain legal status. The Rochdale Principles of Co-operation also became an international model for Co-operation, and it was these principles that provided a point of departure for the successive revisions of the co-operative principles of the ICA (International Co-operative Alliance).256 In this slightly different sense, they served as models, not just in Britain but in many other countries. Let us, however, focus specifically on the role of the national federal organisations. In Britain, the Co-operative Union worked as a lobby organisation vis-à- vis the legislator, and informed the societies about changes in the legal framework that would affect their activities. They assisted societies by providing them with legal advice and information about the legislation.257 Now, in so far as we limit ourselves to this range of activities, the activities of the British federal organisation parallel those of its Swedish counterpart. KF, too, worked to influence the legal framework for co-operation, and they too informed the societies about relevant legal changes. Yet, the notion of model rules took on a more imperative role in the hands of KF: the Swedish federal organisation drafted its own model rules, and any society that wanted to join the Union had to adopt them. Model rules were not only models in the sense that it was convenient to emulate them – they were entrance requirements. But this does not mean that the rules of KF's member societies were perfectly uniform. This aspect also needs a few comments. The question of model rules was discussed at the Co-operative Congress at the very turn of the century, just after KF had been formed. Representatives from societies complained about the state of anarchy caused by differences in rules and practices between different societies. Thus, in 1907 KF decided upon a set of model rules that were more detailed, and thus more restrictive, than was required by the legal framework for co-operation. The crux was whether they should be made mandatory for everyone, including those societies that were already members of KF, or whether they should apply only to applicant societies. Some co-

––––––––– 256 See MacPherson Ian, Co-operative Principles for the 21st Century, (1996), International Co- operative Alliance, Geneva, chapter “Into the Twenty-First Century: Co-operative Yesterday, To- day and Tomorrow”, pp. 31-34. The Rochdale principles work as a base but at least in the latest revision in 1995 an attempt is made to broaden the horizon of co-operation and bring in more forms of co-operation than consumer co-operation into the base of the ICA co-operative values and principles. 257 In the study by Carr-Saunders et al. from 1938 we learn that the Co-operative Union had then five main functions, the fifth being: “…the Union provides a range of specific services to its members, including technical assistance, legal, labour, agriculture, statistical, educational and financial advice, and publicity services”. We also learn that the condition for membership in the Union was that the societies or companies that applied had to have as an object the promotion of co-operative principles and ideas. As for requirements that influenced the management of those gaining membership we find Rule 9 requiring that “…the management of the affiliated societies shall be of a representative character, thus excluding undertakings in which members’ control is non-existent”. Carr- Saunders et al., (1938), pp. 201. These conditions changed somewhat, but no model rules were introduced during the period under examination in the current study, that is before 1970. See Bonner, ([1961] 1970), pp. 379-382.

113 operators were in favour of strict uniformity, but a more moderate line won: only societies applying for membership in the Union had to adopt the model rules.258 KF's model rules were subjected to a series of revisions in the 1910s, with the effect that member societies of the 1920s applied either A-, B-, C-, or D-model rules, depending upon when they had become members. In 1923, representatives from one society proposed a motion at the Co-operative Congress that all societies should be forced to adopt the latest revised model rules. The KF board did not support this motion, since it was thought that such a measure would not be welcomed in the movement. Societies were encouraged to adopt newly revised model rules, but they were not forced to do so.259 Ruin has pointed out that the implementation of model rules in the Swedish Co-operative movement was established through the interplay between member societies and KF. There were co-operators who were interested in making the movement more homogeneous, but there were also those who stuck to their original statutes. The KF leadership had to strike a balance between these opposing views.260 The imperfect uniformity between KF's member societies does not detract from the fact that "model rules" meant something else in Sweden than in Britain. It is one thing to copy a model for the sake of convenience, and another thing to make it a condition for membership in the union. The latter stands out as a rather more far-reaching attempt on the part of the union to control and direct local development. At the same time, it must not be forgotten that KF lacked the means to force member societies to adopt the revisions of the model rules, and that the homogeneity aspired after by some co-operators was never achieved.261 To some extent, these general considerations bear upon Solidar and the New- castle Society as well. Solidar's adoption of KF's model rules in 1920 brought the society into much closer co-operation with KF. It is reasonable to suggest that this co-operation in acquiring "sound and unadulterated food stuff and other goods" affected the retail services and selection of goods that Solidar provided its members with. The society did not reconsider its commitment to KF's wholesale supply until 1970. No such far-reaching co-operation between the Newcastle Society and the CWS was ever written into the objects of the Newcastle Society. How this difference shaped the actual practice of the two societies is something we will see in the following parts of this thesis.

––––––––– 258 Ruin, (1960), pp. 37-39. 259 Ruin, (1960), pp. 37-39. 260 Ruin, (1960), p. 39. 261 As described in Part One, Chapter 2. The emergence of a research project, attempts were made in the 1960s at creating Konsum Sverige, that is, one totally integrated consumer co-operative society for the whole of Sweden. The disagreements within the movement demonstrated that far from all co-operators had this vision. Hwang describes this process and the disagreements in detail in his thesis. What this demonstrates is that the voluntary co-operation between KF and the societies remained, since the societies, even the larger societies like Solidar said no to further integration and centralisation. Nevertheless, KF managed indirectly to integrate the societies into KF through its business organisation but that did not happen until 1992 and then it was not all societies that handed over their retail trade to KF. Hwang, (1995), pp. 58-71.

114 The objects inscribed in the statutes of our two societies are circumscribed by legal frameworks, and influenced by national and local conditions. They also form, however, the most immediate general policy framework for the workings of the co-operative societies. In what follows, we will leave formal instructions and policy issues behind, and trace instead the actual development of stores, services, and trading practices.

1.1 Co-operative retail services in the retail context of Newcastle and Tyneside The 19th century brought considerable changes in the retail trade of Newcastle and other British cities. It was not until the end of that century that the inhabitants of Swedish cities would experience something similar. What happened in Britain was a rapid transformation of the markets and fairs. Ever since the Mid- dle Ages, they had drawn Britain's farmers and travelling salesmen to the cities to sell their goods to urban customers. The markets were the main, if not the sole, providers of food in the cities. In Newcastle, too, markets and fairs were a vital part of city life. A map from the 1730s (see Figure 1 in the middle of the book) shows the locations of the different markets in Newcastle in that decade, well before the 19th century transformations. The map itself provides a first clue to why the retail trade would undergo substantial changes in the course of the 19th century. Many different markets were located where the streets widened enough to create a square or at least a sufficiently large, delimited space. That arrangement was practical as long as the city population was fairly small. At the beginning of the 19th century, however, there was a sharp increase in the population of Newcastle. This was not only an increase in absolute numbers, but also in population density. The city was still hemmed in by the city wall, expansion to the north was problematic, since the Freemen guarded their grazing rights on the fields north of the city, and expansion to the south was impossible due to the fact that the Gateshead Council controlled the land south of the Tyne. In sum, then, the population increase was concentrated to a much delimited area, causing problems both in terms of housing and in terms of food distribution. This is our second clue to the subsequent changes of the retail scene. Ini- tially, it was the old markets and fairs that catered to the needs of Newcastle's crowded and growing population. The problem was one of logistics: the stream of sellers coming into the city in the mornings, and leaving in the evenings, clogged up the city streets. The markets themselves became disorderly, located as they were in rather narrow spaces and being too small to efficiently accommodate the influx of city customers. Philip Woodward has studied the transformation of the traditional markets and fairs in England’s northern industrial cities in the 19th century, among them Newcastle. In 1807 a new market – more spacious, surrounded by a wall, and with a street structure for 150 stores/stalls – was opened. The first vendors to move into the new market were the butchers from the old Butchers' Market. Other salespersons soon followed, or were relocated to sites outside the city wall.

115 In spite of the relatively crowded space, there were still good sites inside the city wall, in the northern part of the city, but they had been impossible to build on for a long time. This, however, was about to change. In 1834, the land in question was bought by Richard Grainger, a building contractor, who drew up a plan for a new district with an indoor market and shops.262 Between 1825 and 1840, major parts of Newcastle were drastically remodelled, Grainger's project being part of that transformation. The commercial centre moved from the Quay- side up the bank to the newly built Grainger Town. This new district comprised a new Central Exchange, a new Royal Theatre, a new Dispensary, a couple of high-status shopping streets – including a Royal Ar- cade with shops – a lecture-room, two chapels, an Incorporated Company’s Hall, two auction marts, ten inns, twelve public houses, forty private houses, 325 houses with shops, and an indoor market.263 The building of the new indoor market did not cause all the outdoor markets to perish, but they successively lost their central position in the day-to-day trade and in the selling of food. The Bigg market is still around in present-day Newcastle, selling records instead of grain, and the Quayside Market is open on Sundays. Their vital role in the retail scene has of course gone long ago, a major shift occurring soon after the establishment of Grainger Town. One of the streets in Grainger Town is Nelson Street. It was in this street that The Mechanics’ Industrial Co-operative Society264, later renamed the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society, opened a store in 1861. A list of the society's first purchases reveals the selection of goods initially offered in the store: Flour was bought for 10 pounds and 19 shillings, groceries for 5 pounds, 19 shillings and 10 ½ pence, yeast for 4 shillings and tobacco for 14 shillings and 8 pence.265 After a few weeks of successful trade, the range of products expanded and the store became a grocery shop, selling provisions and groceries like flour, butter, bacon and cheese. Once the society had adopted a policy of buying in bulk, a tierce of sugar and a chest of tea were bought. The tierce of sugar was, incidentally, a source of worry for the treasurer, for it absorbed one-fourth of the society’s capital.266 It is well worth to linger a while on the selection of goods on offer in the store of the Newcastle Society. For one thing, it tells us something about staple commodities in the Newcastle of the 1860s.267 The quantities of flour that were ––––––––– 262 Woodward Philip, The Indoor Food Market and its Evolution c. 1800-1906, (1997), Doctoral The- sis, University of Brighton, unpublished, pp. 77-78. 263 See Woodward, (1997), Chapter 3. See also Ellis, (2001), p. 22. 264 The society changed its name to Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. in 1868. Minutes 29th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th July 1868. For a more comprehensive discussion of what this change of name might have implied see Part Three, Chapter 1. 265 A Brief Account…, p. 1. 266 A Brief Account…, p. 2. 267 Margaret Slacks writes in her book about the Northumbrian Fare that the diet of ordinary working people is much more difficult to find out about than the diet of rich and poor. Nevertheless, through an investigation of the diet of coal miners in the 1840s and through E. Mackenzie’s Historical, To- pographical and Descriptive View of the County of Northumberland from 1825, we can find out about the character and also the changes in working people’s diet. Farmers as well as coal miner’s

116 bought and sold indicate, for instance, that people still baked their own bread in the region. In the 1860s, bakers were just starting to establish themselves in the North.268 But above all, the narrow range of products is indicative of the character of the society itself. A sparse selection of goods may have been appropriate for the society in its humble beginnings, but a more diverse range of products would enable the members to make a more substantial portion of their purchases from the society. This, in turn, would make it easier to keep up with competition in the area, including competition with other co-operatives. And competitors were not far away. The society's store in Nelson Street was situated opposite the Grainger Market, an indoor market built in 1835 (see Figure 2, map showing the Grainger Market and part of Grainger Town). Apart from this big indoor market, the nearby stores were mainly specialist shops. Most of them were open-fronted, with the shopkeepers living above the premises and producing their goods in a workroom at the back of the shop.269 As for competition from other co- operatives, there were at least one other consumer co-operative established in Newcastle, and two more in Gateshead opposite Newcastle on the south bank of the Tyne. They all competed for members and trade in the city, and this was in itself a matter of controversy among co-operators. During October and November 1861 the readers of The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser could follow a debate between co-operators in Newcastle. The article that sparked off the debate was far from belligerent. It was an opinion piece signed by “A Looker On”, and the correspondent mainly rejoices at the success of co-operation. "A Looker On" declared that “co-operation [is] no vi- sionary scheme”, for in 1858 one co-operative store commenced business in Newcastle. Despite having “difficulties of no ordinary kind [to] contend with”, trade and membership had increased, and larger premises had been taken in Cla- yton Street.270 Then came a second correspondent, signed “Look Out”, reminding “A Looker On” that another thriving and rapidly growing store was situated in Nelson Street – referring, as it were, to The Mechanics’ Industrial Co- operative Society. The existence of two co-operative societies was, in the correspondent's opinion, better than one. To be sure, "Look Out's" approval of more

families ate more bread baked of wheaten flour in 1825 than poor people did in the institutions. Substantial amounts of meat were included in the menus, as well as bacon, butter and cheese. Slack Margaret, Northumbrian Fare, (1981), Frank Graham, Newcastle upon Tyne. 268 Winstanley Michael J., The Shopkeeper’s World 1830-1914, (1983), Manchester University Press, Manchester, p. 3. Peter Mathias has also pointed out that: “Flour and yeast for the home baking trade in the north-east were other staples, the shop loaf not becoming an important item in mass production or mass retailing in this district (unlike in Glasgow or the south of England) until the interwar years.” Mathias Peter, Retailing Revolution: a History of Multiple Retailing in the Food Trades Based upon the Allied Suppliers Group of Companies, (1967), Longman, London, p. 74. 269 Morrison Keith, Going Shopping. A Glimpse at Some of the Old Markets and Shops of Tyneside in Former Days, (no year mentioned), Gateshead Metropolitan Borough Council Department of Edu- cation, p. 8. 270 Letter from ”A Looker On” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Adver- tiser, Tuesday October 22nd 1861.

117 co-operative societies is not unconditioned, for the article is also imbued with an anxious recognition of the problem of trust: But, Sir, the great drawback is a want of public confidence in these institutions. Once [?] confidence in these institutions be firmly established, and Co-operative Stores – here as in Rochdale – will be a glorious success. The only means of securing that confidence is for the committee of each store to give the utmost publicity to their proceedings, balance- sheets & c. There are now four stores in Newcastle and Gateshead, and I, for one, have eagerly looked out for their statements of accounts. I have noticed your reports of the meetings, dividends, & c. of two of them, viz, the Newcastle Mechanics in Nelson Street, and the Gateshead Pioneers, and was glad to find that they had achieved such satisfactory and encouraging results.271 Yet, in spite of these words of caution, the article hopes and pleads for the establishment of more co-operative stores in Newcastle and Gateshead. That plea turned out to be a bone of contention. The exchange that followed demonstrates that opinions were divided as to how consumer co-operation should develop in the area. The underlying issue was that the coexistence of several co-operatives would bring them into competition with each other, and the newcomers and their vindicators were accused by their opponents of not being ‘real co-operators’. Thus, one committed co-operator – a member of The Northern Industrial Society in Newcastle – was sceptical of the suggestion that as many co-operative stores as possible should be opened. “Look out”, who had suggested this, was reminded that “[n]umbers without union are powerless, and union without knowledge is useless”.272 This dedicated co-operator, who signed “A Co-operator”, declared that he wished for the co-operators of Newcastle and Gateshead to unite, and went on to describe the three-year history of The Northern Industrial Society as follows: Three years ago this society commenced operations in Newgate Street; they opened their shop and commenced the work in right good earnest. They appealed to the working men of Newcastle, to come and join then, to rally around them, and make Newcastle another Rochdale. This appeal has been answered, only to a limited extent, I am sorry to add, although the society numbers now two hundred and thirty-seven members.273 “A Co-operator” also claimed that it was The Northern Industrial Society that “…raised the banner of co-operation in Newcastle from its fallen position thirty

––––––––– 271 Letter from ”Look Out” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser, Wednesday October 23rd 1861. 272 Letter from “A Co-operator” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Adver- tiser, Monday, October 28th 1861. 273 Letter from “A Co-operator” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Adver- tiser, Monday, October 28th 1861.

118 years ago”.274 The debate continued, but it was eventually redirected towards questions of a more internal character, e.g. about the financial management of societies.275 The debate in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser is revealing in more than one respect. It shows, obviously, that there were indeed competing co- operative societies in Newcastle and Gateshead in the 1860s. It also shows that co-operators had different opinions about whether they should all join one single society or whether it was better with many different societies. What the articles in the The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser do not reveal is what kind of goods the other co-operative societies sold. We can nevertheless assume that their range of goods did not differ much from that of The Mechanics’ Industrial Co- operative Society, considering that they were all of very recent date. Hence, it was – as yet – not distinctly more advantageous to join one society rather than the other to be able to make a substantial portion of household purchases from it. These considerations, however, bring us back to the issue of other nearby competitors, and to the general question of the character of the immediate business environment of the infant Newcastle Society. One crucial competitor was the Grainger Market, located just across the street from the co-op store in Nelson Street. The Grainger Market enclosed four streets with 243 units organised into al- leys. The building of this indoor market did not instantaneously move all of the trade in provisions from the outdoor to indoor markets, but it gradually shifted the centre of gravity in favour of the latter until the former were finally marginalised. This was part of a process of rationalisation, where untidy and potentially unruly street markets were relocated and resurrected in new shapes.276 In the early 1860s the Grainger Market was a food market only.277 In the statutes for the market it was stated that “’everything used for food’” could be sold there. This included butcher’s meat, poultry, pigeons, butter, eggs, tripe, black pudding, bacon, cheese, vegetables, fruit, bread, flour, meal, oatmeal, gingerbread and confectionery but also flowers, crockery and earthenware.278 The introduction of indoor markets also involved a change in trading practice. In the Grainger Market, the sellers were forbidden to market their products by shouting down each other, they were obliged to have marked prices, and surveyors controlled the trade. With marked prices, a corporation weigh house and sur- ––––––––– 274 Letter from “A Co-operator” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Adver- tiser, Monday, October 28th 1861. 275 Letter from “J. N. T.” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser, Wednesday October 30th 1861. Letter from “One of the Committee” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser, Tuesday November 7th 1861. Letter from “J. N. T.” under Correspondence, in The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser, Tuesday November 12th 1861. 276 Lancaster Bill, The Department Store. A Social History, (1995), Leicester University Press, Lon- don and New York, p. 8. 277 In 1887 the regulations of what could be sold in the Grainger market was amended and the words ”goods, wares and merchandise” were added to the words ”everything used for food”. Woodward (1997), p. 84. 278 Woodward (1997), quote and list of what was sold in the Market p. 84.

119 veyor, the Grainger Market paved the way for a new and more risk-free kind of shopping.279 This was the same kind of trade that the consumer co-operatives promoted. It is difficult to say just how fierce the competition was between the Grainger Market and the consumer co-operative societies. However, apart from promoting risk-free shopping, consumer co-operative societies also offered customers as members something more. They offered the possibility to trade along co-operative lines: the member was given a dividend on purchases, a limited dividend on money invested in the society, saving opportunities, and the prospect of contributing to the expansion of the Co-operative movement. Important as these extra features are, it is no less vital what was on offer in the stores and what services the societies could provide their members with. As we have already noted, the selection of goods offered by the Newcastle Society was very narrowly circumscribed to begin with. Soon, however, the range of goods and services began to expand. The nature and extent of this expansion is our next topic. A closer look at the prevailing socio-economic conditions in Newcastle in the middle of the 19th century suggests a couple of food products which the consumer co-operative societies were probably eager to include in their selection of goods. Next to housing, meat was one of the more expensive entries in the budgets of working-class families.280 The exceptional position of meat also comes out, for example, in the so-called Red Herring War of 1872, when women in a number of towns in the North East protested against a sharp rise in the prices of meat, milk and potatoes. Once the protests had spread, their main target was generally the high price of meat. Some of these protesters got the idea to either engage their own butcher or to get the miner’s union to manage the purchase and sale of meat. The result was a short-lived Co-operative Butchers’ Union.281 It is not surprising, then, that meat was a high priority area. In fact, the members in The Mechanics’ Industrial Co-operative Society were able to buy meat and receive a dividend on their purchases as early as 1863. But they could not buy it in a butcher store owned by the society. Instead, the committee of the Newcastle Society had made deals with McBryde & Scott’s and some other butchers in the city, to the effect that members of the society could buy meat from these butcher stores and either receive a dividend or get a direct discount on their purchases. Yet, making deals with independent shopkeepers was far from uncomplicated. We find, for instance, that the butchers contacted the committee ––––––––– 279 Lancaster, (1995), p 8. 280 See Slack, (1981), p. 22. Cost of Living of the Working Classes. Report of an Enquiry by the Board of Trade into Working Class Rents, Housing and Retail Prices, together with the Standard Rates of Wages Prevailing in Certain Occupations in the Principal Industrial Towns of the United Kingdom, cd. 3864, HMSO, 1908, cvii 282-477, p. 318-325, price on meat p. 325. That the price of meat could vary from town to town is something we see in Family Budgets: Being the Income and Expenses of Twenty-Eight British Households 1891-1894, (1896), The Economic Club, P. S. King & Son, London, see Provincial Towns, p. 31-36. See also Reeves Maud Pember, Round about a Pound a Week, (1979[1913]), Virago, London, compare costs listed in Chapter VI, VII and VIII. 281 See Todd Nigel, “The Red Herring War of 1872: Women’s Rights, Butchers and Co-ops in the Northern Coalfield”, in Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth, (1996), p. 116

120 to clarify what they had agreed upon and to negotiate changes in the deal. They would suggest other levels of discount, or express their wish to have a greater degree of freedom concerning the intervals for dividend payment. 282 So in 1866, the society started its own butchery business by hiring a stall in the butchers’ market in the name of the butcher working there. Although there were some troubles during the first two years, one can say that the entry into the butchery trade was the start of the expansion in numbers of services that we see in Chart 1.283 Chart 1. Service development: The Newcastle Society 1860-1968

Number of services 0 1860 1872 1884 1896 1908 1920 1932 1944 1956 1968 1866 1878 1890 1902 1914 1926 1938 1950 1962

YEAR Source chart 1: Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register. Lamb has noted services introduced and services ended that have been registered in minutes from member meetings and meetings of the committee/board. This means that sometimes a service might have been introduced somewhat earlier than noted in the register but most of the time the entries state that a particular service was introduced that year. I have also double checked in trade accounts, department statistics and in the booklet Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services from 1951, where a history of the development of services is included. I have not always been able to find out whether a service ended, which means that the final figure might not be exactly but near enough correct. Chart 1 illustrates the expansion in services that took place in the Newcastle So- ciety from the year it was founded until two years before it became part of The North Eastern Co-operative Society. The chart only includes qualitatively new services, such as, for example, the introduction of the sale of fish, delivery service, and hairdressing. It does not include such changes as the introduction of a new model of radios or the reintroduction of bananas after years of rationing. What we see is a steady rise in the number of services with a few intervals of considerable increase in services: 1890 to 1897, 1902 to 1911 and 1949 to 1960. ––––––––– 282 Minutes Committee Meeting Monday 20th April 1863. Minutes Committee Meeting Monday, 12th July 1863. 283 A more comprehensive account of the Newcastle Society’s entry into the butchery trade is found in Part Three, Chapter 2.

121 Before we go into the details of this development, it is useful with a reminder as to the rationale of this part of our inquiry. The kind and extent of services built up over the decades are visible traces of decision-making processes. Regardless of what, in the last instance, might have caused the society to develop a particular service, its introduction must have been preceded by organisational processing. Describing the development of services will thus provide us with a set of facts for the analysis to crunch on, and thereby a means of portraying – later on – the workings of co-operation. With this reminder properly in place, it is safe to proceed with a depiction of the gradual build-up of services. And we will begin with a note on a few aspects and implications of an ever broadening range of services. Only three years after the Newcastle Society had commenced its business, the committee was able to offer the members boots, shoes and bespoke tailoring. In the following year, i.e. in 1865, a proper drapery department was opened. In 1868 the services of bespoke tailoring ended, and tailoring as a service was added to the drapery department. To be sure, the inclusion of drapery goods in the service repertoire may not strike the modern reader as conspicuous in any way. It is, however, ripe with information. Drapery was not an empty or semi- monopolistic niche in 19th-century Newcastle. On the contrary, the local market for drapery goods was already crowded, so the decision to take up this line brought the society into competition with a host of other retailers in the drapery trade in the city. That is a tell-tale sign that the service development of the society is not solely driven by market opportunity. Moreover, the society's decision to enter this niche requires explanation. To further underline the need for this, it is instructive to review one relevant portion of the history of drapery in Newcastle. Alongside the introduction of indoor markets, the drapery trade was instrumental in the transformation of the whole retail scene in the 19th century. Com- petition in Newcastle within this trade was tough right from the 1830s. Apart from the drapery stores with open fronts, there were also more exclusive shops, which imported goods from London or from abroad. These latter shops had a relatively slow turnover, an exclusive selection and high prices, and they consequently tended to attract an exclusive clientele. The other end of the market con- tinuum was equally well populated with haberdashers, drapers, mercers and peddlers catering to the poorer segment of customers who bought materials and made their own clothes at home. All in all, some 50 different specialist drapers, divided into wool, linen and cotton, existed in central Newcastle by the late 1830s.284 Yet, it was exactly at this juncture when another, eventually very influential, market actor emerged on the local drapery stage, for in 1838 Mr Emerson Muschamp Bainbridge decided to set up a drapery shop in Market Street opposite the Grainger Market. Bainbridge’s shop, or rather bazaar, would contribute

––––––––– 284 Lancaster, (1995), p. 8. Morrison, Going Shopping. A Glimpse at Some of the Old Markets and Shops of Tyneside in Former Days, p. 10.

122 to the transformation of the drapery trade, and indeed the retail trade as a whole, as it became one of the first department stores in Britain.285 Bainbridge, who was an active Methodist lay preacher, recognised that important changes in social structure had taken place in the growing economy of New- castle. Tyneside working-class wages were often high by national standards, and the coal trade also produced many clerks, officials and junior managers constituting a segment of consumers that enjoyed higher and higher disposable incomes. What Bainbridge did was to apply to the drapery trade the same rationalisation of shopping that had already been practised in the Grainger Market. He offered fixed and clearly marked prices and good quality products at prices considerably below those of the other draperies. In the early days, Bainbridge also insisted on cash payment, which gave him the advantage of being able to pay the wholesalers on time and thus avoid making losses due to unpaid debts.286 Later on, in the 1920s, Bainbridge developed a credit system in an attempt to attract customers who wished to shop at Bainbridge but did not have the immediate means to do so.287 In the 1860, however, when the Newcastle Society entered drapery, all this lay in the distant future. At this point in time, Bainbridge, together with some of the other drapery stores, peddlers and second hand stores, all competed for the Newcastle Society in the drapery trade. So the question remains: how can we account for the society's decision to enter an already well-populated market? As is clear from Chart 1, however, the decision to start selling clothes and other drapery goods was just a first step in a general expansion of services. Drapery was soon relegated to being one of many different services offered by the Newcastle Society; a gradual build-up of services that would cater to member needs from the cradle to the grave had begun. In 1872 members could get their milk supplied via the society, and in 1890 a funeral furnishing service was intro- ––––––––– 285 Morrison Kathryn A., English Shops and Shopping: An Architectural History, (2003), Yale Uni- versity Press, New Haven & London , p.126. 286 Lancaster, (1995), p. 8-9. 287 In the 1920s Bainbridge had developed a credit system. In an article in Chronicle Bainbridge & Co Ltd. the credit system is explained: ”[M]any poorer housewives found a way to enjoy the benefits of Bainbridge quality. While their weekly income would normally exclude them from shopping in Bainbridge, the ’Ticket Man’ came into their own in the twenties and thirties and continued to operate until the early fifties. The ticket man or agents was a trade customer with Bainbridge who owned or ran his own shop, usually in a small town or village. His trade account would allow him a discount of about 10%. His customers would come to him when they specially wanted an item from Bainbridge, or one which he could not possibly provide. The ticket man would then issue an ’open’ or fixed sum’ ticket. A good customer, one who would be trusted not to get too far into debt would be issued with an open ticket, but tickets for a fixed amount, perhaps £5 or £10, were generally preferred. When the customer came to Bainbridge, he handed over his ticket to the first department in which he anted to make a purchase. The ticket was then sent via a pneumatic cash tube to the Coun- ting House, where an ‘A.S.V’ or Agent’s Shopping Voucher was issued to the customer, who used it throughout the shop. Purchases were recorded on the voucher which was eventually returned to the agent who would pay the boll and then collect his money weekly or monthly from the customer. With his discount and a charge to the customer of 5% or 10% the agency was able to make a profit, but he was open to the risk of bad debts, and collecting the money often provided difficulties.”, Turner Forbes Turner, “Shopping on a Ticket”, in Chronicle Bainbridge & Co Ltd vol 37-38 22nd October 1988.

123 duced. Two years later, an agency for photographic works opened in the central premises of the society, which by then had moved to Newgate Street. The period between 1902 and 1911 saw the introduction of a series of services, among them a fish department, a chemistry department, and the sale of chilled meat.288 It was also decided – in 1903 – that the newly founded chemistry department should host a dentistry service, where members would receive a 25 per cent discount on their treatments.289 Two years before the Second World War, the society entered the travel agency business, and by the end of the 1940s, their travelling bureau could offer British and Continental Tours. Taking “The ever popular Irish tour” for a week cost approximately £14, while going to Switzerland for ten days cost £33 and 10 shillings.290 At that time the average wage of a skilled male worker was £6.50 per week and for an unskilled male worker £5.291 The range and number of services continued to increase in the 1950s and early 1960s. Members were now offered chiropody services, optical service, the sale of petrol, “Do It Yourself” units, and the society also introduced a radio service room and opened a co-operative florist shop in the Grainger Market.292 By now, the Newcastle Society was indeed offering a comprehensive set of services to its member households. There were the little necessities of everyday life – milk for the tea and toys for the children. There were services for festive occasions: newly-weds could drive to and from the church in a rented Vauxhall car from the co- op. These Vauxhalls were, the advertisement proudly proclaims, “noted as being amongst the most luxurious in the district”. As members and loyal shoppers, the household acquired a life assurance through their membership.293 To a great extent, it was the Newcastle Society itself that developed the business organisation for providing all these services. In doing so, however, it could benefit from being part of a nation-wide Co-operative movement. This meant, for example, that the society was able to buy from the CWS and receive a dividend on those purchases. On the regional level, consumer co-operative societies shared knowledge and experiences, helping each other to start up new services. Thus, in 1866 the Newcastle Society received advice from the butcher of the Blaydon Society regarding how to best enter the butchery trade.294 Similarly, the board of the Newcastle Society agreed to help other societies to start up new services. One example of this dates from 1900, when the board of the Sunderland ––––––––– 288 See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1872, 1890, 1892, 1902, 1903 and 1911. 289 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting, December 22nd 1903. 290 See add on the reverse side of The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited 351st Quarterly Report from 4th September to 4th December, 1948. 291 Priestley Harlod, The What it Cost the Day before Yesterday Book from 1850 to the Present Day, (1979), Kenneth Mason, Havant, p. 51. 292 See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1950, 1951, 1957 and 1962. 293 Toys were sold in the Drapery Department as early as the 1890s and eventually got its own section in the new department store built in 1932. Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1890. Exactly when the Society started to offer Vauxhall cars for hire I am not sure, but the service is presented in Pre- senting Newcastle Co-op Services, (1951), The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd, quote p. 54. For more information about the collective life assurance that came with the membership see Part Four, Section 2.1. 294 Minutes Special Meeting of the Members 14th March 1866.

124 Society sent a letter to the Newcastle Society asking if a meeting could be arranged between the manager of the Stobhill Farm, owned by the Newcastle Soci- ety, and representatives from the Sunderland Society. This was agreed to, and later on the Manager of the Stobhill Farm visited the Sunderland Society to give instructions of how to best run a farm.295 Co-operation amongst the societies on Tyneside was not limited to exchang- ing good advice. They also agreed that one of the societies should provide members in the other societies with particular goods and services. Members of the Newcastle Society became beneficiaries of such agreements when the Cramling- ton Society committed itself to supplying them with certain kinds of bread before their own society was able to deliver that service.296 Later on, when the Newcas- tle Society had opened its own bakery, offering all different kinds of bread, they would in turn extend the same offer to other societies. For example, they had an agreement to deliver bread to the members of the West Stanley Society right until the end of the 1890s.297 The agreement with the Ashington Society to supply their members with milk from the Stobhill Farm was terminated in 1906.298 It should be emphasised, however, that while such agreements could facilitate the gradual build-up of services, they could also be a source of controversy and confusion. If the receiving society had begun to count on the deliveries from their neighbour, they would most likely be upset by a unilateral decision, on the part of the provider, to terminate the agreement. This was exactly what happened when the Newcastle Society decided to end its milk deliveries to the Bedlington Society in 1910.299 Yet, despite such problems of coordination and the inconveniences that could come out of an unexpected breech of expectations, co-operation between co- operatives had distinct benefits. On the one hand, it meant a possibility for a receiving society to offer their members services which it had so far been incapa- ble of providing. On the other hand, it gave the providing society an opportunity to get services going for which they would otherwise not have had the customer potential. Thus, when the Newcastle Society established its own funeral furnishing department in 1925, the board and management counted on it being used by ––––––––– 295 See Minutes Directors’ Meeting 4th September and 16th October 1900. 296 Arrangement made with Cramlington Society for the supply from them of plain and fancy bread. See Minutes of Directors’ Meeting, Tuesday 2nd June 1896 and Minutes of Directors’ Meeting, Tu- esday 16th June 1896. 1914 Cancellation of bleaching agency with Pullars. A move made to direct such work to Bradburn and the Co-operative Laundries, Wallsend. Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 9th March 1914. In 1967 the Newcastle Society closed its bakery department and bread and confectionary were ordered from a co-operative federal bakery, Minutes of the Half Yearly Meeting Wed- nesday 26th April 1967. In 1968 the remaining Bakery Mobile Rounds were transferred to C.W.S., in Minutes of the Half Yearly Meeting Wednesday 24th April 1968. 297 See Jim Lamb's Chronological Register 1898. 298 In December 1906 the secretary was instructed to write the Ashington Society and inform them that this service would end. See Minutes Directors’ Meeting 18th December 1906. 299 A reduction in the of supply of milk from Stobhill Farm to the Bedlington Society upset the board of this society since they had reduced their herd of cows relying on the supplies from the Newcastle Society. The board of the Newcastle Society resolved that they could not do anything in the matter. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1910.

125 members from the neighbouring societies.300 This is why the directors of the Newcastle Society were so upset when they learned in 1944 that the CWS was planning to introduce a federal funeral furnishing service. The problem is basically the same as in the case of the Bedlington Society: we are once again dealing with a lack of coordination, in conjunction with a well-entrenched and organisationally embedded set of expectations. It was finally agreed that in the future the CWS should discuss these kinds of federal solutions with all parties concerned.301 Finally, there is one more type of regional collaboration between co- operatives which deserves mentioning in connection with the build-up of services. For apart from the exchange of advice and agreements on inter-society service provisions, co-operatives could jointly build up and own a particular service. One very successful regional project was the Gilsland Co-operative Conva- lescent Home, bought in 1902 by a set of consumer co-operative societies in the North East of England and the CWS. Gilsland was at first meant to be a combined convalescent and orphanage home; it became instead a combined convalescent and holiday home for co-operators and trade union members in the region. After the Second World War, the home successively became more of a hotel, but even in the 1980s the board and management of Gilsland Spa Hotel made sure that there were some less expensive rooms left for visitors who wished to stay for a longer period of convalescence. In the Post-War period, Gilsland was also used for educational purposes, and for other kinds of co-operative gatherings. This co-operative hotel is still a popular place for such gatherings, and the board and management of the hotel try to combine this function with running a regular hotel.302 The account on the preceding pages has focused mainly on the increasing diversity of services offered by the Newcastle Society. In 1969, at the end of the period covered by our inquiry, the number of services available through the society was round about sixty. That tells us something about the extent of the business operation. We will return to the topic later on – in this section as well as in Part Four – to provide a few further details about which services the society provided and which services were temporarily or permanently withdrawn. Yet, the diversity of services is but one aspect of service development. Another aspect concerns the availability of these services, particularly those which cater to the ––––––––– 300 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1925. 301 The general manager was asked to make an enquiry regarding a statement that another funeral furnishing federation was going to be set up in the North Shields area. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 8th May 1944. A deputation for the Newcastle Society had had a meeting with the Sub-committee of the CWS regarding the federal furnishing federation. The deputation had presented the opinions of the board of the Newcastle Society and the representatives of the CWS promised that the society would be given the opportunity to discuss ventures before the CWS set them up. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 16th June 1944. A Letter from the CWS informed the board that the North Tyneside Co- operative Bakery was considering going into the funeral furnishing business and that the CWS had informed the North Tyneside Co-operative Bakery that the service was already provided by the Newcastle Society. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 11th August 1944. 302 Lamb Jim, Gilsland Spa: A Co-operative Centenary History, (2001) C.I.S. See also Part Four, Section 2.1.

126 everyday needs of members in different areas of the city. This leads us over to questions about the build-up, dispersion, and density of branches belonging to the Newcastle Society. When and where were branches established? What was the extent of delivery service? The notion of "branches" may perhaps have a somewhat unfamiliar ring to a Swedish audience. A branch, in the parlance of British consumer co-operation, is a conglomeration of stores in a single location. The key term is location, for different branches could gather different numbers of stores. If, for example, a branch opened up with one single store, it could later be supplemented with a second and third store next door to the original one. Conversely, a particular store could be withdrawn from a location while the branch remained. As we would expect, there is a correlation between the number of branches and the number of stores. We shall start, however, with a review of how the Newcastle Society "branched out" into the city, creating an increasingly dense web of nodes, and thus bringing the services of the society within the close range of an increasing number of people. Only after that shall we consider how the number of stores changed over time. The first branch of the Newcastle Society was opened as early as the beginning of the 1860s, in 1862 to be more precise. From the 1860s to the 1950s, there is a consistent increase in the number of branches, even if the pace of branch establishment fluctuates over time. The contours of this development is shown in Chart 2 below. Chart 2. Number of branches (locations of stores): The Newcastle Society 1860-1951 y 70

Number of branches 0 1860 1870 1880 1890 1900 1910 1920 1930 1940 1950 1865 1875 1885 1895 1905 1915 1925 1935 1945

Year Source chart 2: “Record of Branch Developments” in Presenting Newcastle Co-op Ser- vices. It is instructive to flesh out these figures by situating them geographically and socially. And we will start with the establishment of the first branch in 1862, consisting of a shop in Scotswood Road in the West End of Newcastle. The West End was the locus of the engineering companies of R. Stephenson and R. W.

127 Hawthorn, as well as of the Engineering Works of Armstrong.303 The area itself was a product of mid-19th-century city expansion, when the urban buildings of Newcastle rapidly merged with surrounding village settlements and created the east and west ends of the city. Both the west and the east ends thus came to harbour a mixture of industries, old village houses and newly built Tyneside flats, lending a distinctive social character to the areas.304 There was also expansion to the north, but it was slower and did not involve any industries. The houses built there were, at least initially, semi-detached or detached houses built for better-off people.305 The West End continued its expansion as many Tyneside flats were built for workers at the Armstrong works and the shipbuilding companies in Elswick. It would indeed appear to be a perfect area for consumer co-operative expansion. Yet, three years after opening the store in Scotswood Road, members of the Newcastle Society decided, at the quarterly meeting in October, that the surplus made by the store was too meagre to justify its existence: it was to be closed down and replaced by a delivery service.306 The committee of the Newcastle So- ciety surely recognised that a large number of potential members lived in the West End. In June 1863, the committee made a special effort to recruit new members in the area. It was decided that tracts with the first principles of co- operation were to be distributed to the workers in Messrs Hawthorn’s, Steven- son’s and Armstrong’s Works, situated in Elswick in the West End of Newcas- tle.307 The decision to close down the shop in Scotswood Road was for the member meeting to make, and we must stress the organisationally mediated nature of such measures. The members could have reacted otherwise to the information that the shop yielded only a marginal surplus. It is another, but equally important, question why the shop failed to live up to the financial standards expected by the membership. To answer this question, we must consider the ecology of local consumer co-operative societies. The West End may have been an ideal setting for consumer co-operative expansion, but not necessarily for the expansion of any one particular society. Another consumer co-operative society was already active in Clayton Street. It is possible, even likely, that this society competed with the Newcastle Society in recruiting members from the area. Nor was this the only competitor around. The Blaydon Co-operative Society, founded in

––––––––– 303 Private Housing and the Working Class, Benwell Community Development Project Final Report, 3rd Series, (1978), Benwell CDP, Newcastle upon Tyne, p. 19-20. 304 Tyneside flats were built in terraced rows often climbing up the steep banks of the Tyne. It was rows of attached houses with one flat on the ground floor with two or three rooms and one flat on the first floor with three or four rooms. See Pearce Kit, ”Newcastle’s Tyneside Flats 1830-1900. By-Law Housing or Cultural Phenomena?”, in Working Class Housing on Tyneside 1850-1939, (1994), Ed. Lancaster Bill, Bewick Press, Whitley Bay, p. 49. 305 Newcastle's Changing Map, (1992), Eds. Barke M. and Buswell R. J., City of Newcastle upon Tyne, City Libraries &Art, Newcastle upon Tyne, pp. 40-41. 306 For a more detailed account of the discussions at the quarterly meeting in 1865 see Part Three, Chapter 2. 307 Minutes of the Committee Meeting 22nd June 1863.

128 1858, was situated right across the Tyne from Elswick and Scotswood. It, too, could recruit members in the West End. Scotswood Road – an icon in local lore, celebrated in song308 – stretches from the old west gate of Newcastle, along the bank of the Tyne, and to the Scotswood Bridge, which takes us over to Blaydon. In the second half of the 19th century it was easy – at least for some of the people living in the West End – to either traverse the Scotswood Bridge, and shop in the stores of the Blaydon Society, or to shop in the stores established by that society in Lemington in 1876 and in the store in Scotswood village in 1897 on the north bank of the Tyne.309 At the end of the day, competition from neighbouring societies did not prevent the Newcastle Society from expanding in the West End. A second, more successful attempt was made at the end of 1867, when the society established a butchery shop on the corner of Gloucester Street and Oak Street in the upper part of Elswick.310 Competition between co-operatives was nevertheless a factor to take into account. As the Newcastle Society branched out into the city, and tried to extend somewhat beyond city borders, the expansion brought it within the perimeter of an increasing number of other societies. From the 1870s onwards – and well into the post-war period – the Newcastle Society ended up in so-called “border conflicts” or “trade-boundary conflicts” with other co-operative societies in the localities surrounding Newcastle. Consumer co-operative societies had been set up in Felling Shore and Dunston on the south bank of the Tyne in 1860, in Cramlington in 1861, in Backworth in 1863, in Walker in 1870, in Windy Nook in 1874, in Throckley in 1892, and in Bulman Village (Gosforth).311 All were situated in communities surrounding Newcastle, and hence in the potential expansion area of the Newcastle Society. An additional number of consumer co- operatives were scattered around many other communities on Tyneside.312

––––––––– 308 Here is the first verse with the chorus of the song Blaydon Races, Scootswood Road turning up in the final line of the chorus: Aw went to Balydon races ’twas on the ninth of Joon, Eiteen hundred an’ sixty two, on a summer’s efternoon, Aw tuek the bus frae Balmbra’s, an she wis heavy laden, Away we went alang Collingwood Street thats on the road to Blaydon…O lads, ye shud only seen us gannin, We passed the foakes upon the road just as they wor stannin; Thor wes lots o’ lads an lasses there, all wi smilin’ faces Gannin’ alang the Scotswood Road, to see the Blaydon Races. 309 See this part Section 2.1. See also Part Three, Chapter 2. The information about the establishment of branches in Lemington and Scotswood Village has been taken from Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register over the Balydon Society. 310 It is a bit difficult to know if the shop on the Corner of Gloucester Street & Oak Street was opened at the end of 1867 or beginning of 1868. In the Quarterly Report of the Society’s Accounts it turns up first in July but in the “Record of Branch Developments” in Presenting Newcastle Co-op Ser- vices from 1951 it is listed as a the first store in the Gloucester Street branch in December 1867. Chart 2 is based on the information from the “Record of Branch Developments” in Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services (1951). 311 Lamb Jim and Warren Steve, The People’s Store. A Guide to the North Eastern Co-op’s Family Tree, (1996), North Eastern Co-operative Society, Gateshead, p. 7. Founding date for Bullman Vil- lage unknown but it is included in the enumeration since it was situated right north of Newcastle and since it transferred its engagements to the Newcastle Society in 1869, see Illustration 1. The Family tree of Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 312 Lamb and Warren, (1996), pp. 2-3.

129 In other words, the Newcastle Society was hemmed in by its siblings, which affected the expansion of branches and complicated the extension of the delivery service. To be sure, sibling rivalry did not preclude expansion, but it introduced obstacles which had to be reckoned with every time the society considered an extension of its range. Some of the competing societies perished. The Northern In- dustrial Society, for example, seems to have disappeared from the stage by the end of the 1860s.313 But others remained, and their trade borders – sometimes porous, sometimes more impermeable – continued to keep a check on the expansion of the Newcastle Society. One of the elements contributing to the nature of border conflicts was the branch system itself. This system merits special attention. Not only was it the generative principle behind the pattern of expansion in co-operative stores from the second half of the 19th century, but it was also a highly visible hallmark of consumer co-operation. True, branches in this sense were not exclusively tied to the co-ops, for they were found in multiples as well. They were, however, sufficiently symbolic of co-operation to be singled out as a distinctive characteristic by Kathryn A. Morrison in her history of the development of the retail trade in 19th- and 20th-century Britain. Morrison's focus is on the changes in stores, and on store and branch structure, and she describes the 19th and early 20th century co-op branch stores as follows: These stores have a robust character that is all their own, and they can be distinguished from their contemporaries as much by their peripheral position and piecemeal construction as by the symbols of manufacture and industry that are emblazoned on their facades. As such they are a highly visible manifestation of the English tradition of utopian socialism, and form a distinct element in the English townscape…314 It is open to argument whether, and in what sense, these shops really were mani- festations of utopian socialism in England. But if we bracket this question, Mor- rison's portrayal is clearly to the point, and neatly fits the co-op branch stores in Newcastle. They were construed in a piecemeal fashion, located in the periphery, and became distinct elements in the townscape of Newcastle. In order to appreciate the impact and import of the society's branching-out activities, we should linger a while on the character of these arrangements. What distinguished the stores of the Newcastle Society from other stores in the city, before the conversion into self-service, was that they were established department-wise in a row. These conglomerations of stores were referred to as branches. Laid out, so to speak, as pearls-on-a-string, the co-op branch stores were distinguishable elements in the streets where they were situated. On the fa- çade, above each row of stores, grand letters announced that this was the “New- castle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd.”; and each store (or department) in the branch had signs above the door and shop-window informing the passer-by that this was the “Greengrocery & Hardware dept.”, “Grocery and Provision ––––––––– 313 See Part Three, Chapter 1.1. 314 Morrison, (2003), p. 145.

130 Store”, “Butchering Department” or “Bread and Confectionery”. Examples of this are found in the photos of branches in the middle of this book (pictures 1, 2, and 3). The pictures also testify to what we have already noted earlier, that each branch could embrace a different number of stores. Once the branch system had matured, branches of the Newcastle Society would contain from two up to seven stores. The Fossway branch in 1941 is an example of the former, the Benwell High Cross branch of the latter.315 Let us pause, however, to consider the signboard, “Newcastle upon Tyne Co- operative Society Ltd.”, marking out the branch. It is, we may say, a mark of sameness, a sign informing the customers that these particular stores are part of a network. Today – when MacDonald's restaurants, 7-elevens, and other chain stores and restaurants are established nearly everywhere – we have become so accustomed to multiples that we can hardly imagine the world without them. The phenomenon itself appears to us as commonplace. Not so in the 19th and early 20th century. What is commonplace today was a novelty then. The first multiples were established in the second half of the 19th century, and the strategy to draw on sameness and recognisability was utilised by the co-ops as well. The key difference between them was that, in the case of the multiples, the network of stores was owned by a single person, a family or a joint stock company, whereas the network of co-operative stores was owned by a consumer co-operative society, and thereby by all its members. The early multiples and the consumer co-operatives were in some respects battling for the same turf. Some multiples made great efforts to make an impression on customers, by imposing a uniform design on their branch stores and by using slogans. Brough's is a case in point. The company had its central premises in Newcastle, but its branches spread out in the countryside both north and south of the city, and Brough's filled its façades and shop-windows with slogans like "We save you the Middleman's Profits" and "Groceries, Provisions, Flour etc. at lowest wholesale prices". In the colliery communities, Brough's became the main competitor to the co-operative stores.316 As for the co-operative societies, the sameness produced was many-layered. The uniform design used by particular societies signalled identity on the society level. Societies would also draw on, and highlight, the very term "co-operative", a feature which placed them within a more general and nationally recognisable category of stores. However, the design of stores varied within the trading area of one single society and from one society to another, even after the CWS had begun to design stores for some of them.317 Another thing that made multiples and co-operative stores stand out was their promotion of a particular brand of goods. In the case of some multiples, the name of the company was the same as that of the products it sold. A well-known example is Lipton. And a good local example from Newcastle is Rington Tea, ––––––––– 315 See Trade Accounts in Report and Statement of Account September 1941, Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 316 Mathias, (1967), p. 83. 317 Morrison, (2003), pp. 153-155.

131 sold from carts, later cars, with a clearly recognisable and uniform design.318 This, too, is a way of boosting visibility and producing sameness. Similarly, the co-operative stores filled their shop windows with CWS products. Or at least that was what the CWS strived and hoped for: in reality. These products may have been less widespread and displayed than the federal organisation had wished for. Many co-operative societies did buy and display CWS products, with their whe- atsheaves and other symbolic pictures of unity and co-operation. But as Victoria Kelly has shown – and our own findings confirm her results – it is far from certain that CWS products had such a prominent position in the shop-windows and in the Co-op shops, at least not before the 20th century.319 In the Inter-War and Post-War periods, the campaigns for CWS products became more intense, and it is likely that this is reflected in an increased tendency, on the part of the consumer co-operative societies, to promote these products in their stores.320 All in all, the branch system employed by the Newcastle Society, and by many other British consumer co-operatives, had a few distinctive traits. Some of them were shared by emerging multiples, but others were not. One central point of divergence concerns the pattern of expansion, which brings us back to the main thread, i.e. the availability of co-operative services. In order to bring out the pattern of local co-operative branch expansion, and the related development of delivery service, it is once again useful to use multiples as a foil. To this end, we may cite Peter Mathias’ studies of multiples. Mathias focuses specifically upon the history of the Allied Suppliers Group of Companies, and he shows, among other things, how three different multiples – founded in the North East in the end of the 19th century – spread throughout the region. One of them is the multiple store called Duncans, which started up in South Shields in 1895. Its pattern of expansion is revealing. While the first two branches were established in South Shields, further expansion took place in sites that were more remote, and internally far apart: by 1914 branches of Duncans had been established in North Shields, Sunderland, Whitley Bay, and Gateshead.321 In the interwar years, Duncans came to an agreement with a multiple firm in Gateshead called Laws Store Ltd., which led to the establishment of a joint wholesale company in New- castle. Before Duncans was finally sold to the Allied Suppliers Group of Com- panies in 1933, it had established over twenty branches, mainly in communities along the Tyne but also in the mining communities in Northumberland and Dur- ham coal fields.322 The pattern is one of new branches being spread into previously untouched areas, so as to catch new circles of customers. That pattern is more or less repeated in the two other multiples in Mathias' survey, Hadrians and Brough's. They established branches in different communities throughout nearly the whole North East. Brough's also employed an "army" of journeymen that ––––––––– 318 Morrison, Going Shopping, (no date mentioned), p. 27. 319 Kelly, (1995), pp. 62-72. See Part Four, Section 3.1. 320 For a discussion about the anxieties of an increasing co-operative advertisement see Gurney, (1996), pp. 195-197. For examples on advertisements from the CWS in the 1930s see Birchall (1994), pp. 122-123. 321 Mathias, (1967), p. 73, 322 Mathias, (1967), pp. 76-77.

132 took up orders and delivered goods, mainly to miner families in the coalfields of Northumberland and Durham.323 A further commonality between these three locally founded multiples is that they all offered a narrow range of goods, mainly groceries and provisions.324 In both these respects, i.e. the impetus behind the expansion and the choice of goods, the multiples differed from the Newcastle Society and other consumer co- operatives. First, the branches of the Newcastle Society could be extended with several departments or shops, and thus potentially provide a wide range of different services. Second, the expansion of branches was not geared solely towards acquiring new circles of customers. Broadening the customer potential was by no means unimportant to the society, but the principal problem solved by branching out was rather how to provide service near those who were already members and customers. As the society grew, it attracted an increasing number of members distributed over different residential areas, sometimes with a long walk to the central premises in Newgate Street. In expanding the reach of the Newcastle So- ciety, a central concern was to get goods and services sufficiently close to these members so that they could make a substantial portion of their purchases from their society. Yet, if opening up a branch was a way of catering to the needs of those who were already members, the new branch also extended the perimeter of the society, for that branch was in turn within the reach of a larger number of people. This, however, is exactly the same mechanism that brought the Newcas- tle Society into border conflicts with other societies. We will have occasion to get back to them. Before we do so, it should perhaps be pointed out that the co- operators themselves were very much aware of the value of branching out. Ever since the late 1860s, the policy of the board of the Newcastle Society had been to acquire all the best possible sites for stores in the city. And the board of the Newcastle Society thought that the best possible sites for stores were where many of the society’s members lived.325 Step by step, branches were established in all the different parts of Newcastle, and the web of stores became increasingly fine-meshed. This is, indeed, a very different diffusion process from that of the local multiples. Moreover, the fine mechanics of this patterning, as expressed in the decision to open up a branch in one particular location rather than another, depends on the internal organisational dynamics of co-operation. Parallel with the expansion in branches, the delivery service of the society also evolved. At the beginning of 1879, the society had their central premises in Newgate Street and four branches: the Gloucester Street branch in Elswick (in ––––––––– 323 Mathias, (1967), p. 86. 324 The Duncans concentrated upon a few staple lines that made up the foundation of household budgets in the North East; bacon, flour, yeast and tea. Hadrians had a somewhat wider selection of goods on offer. Starting out as a general pawnshop adding drapery, a grocery shop and an off- licence, Hadrians eventually concentrated on developing the grocery and provisions side of the business. Borough promoted itself as ”The Wholesale Cash Store” selling groceries and provisions in bulk. Mathias, (1967), pp. 74, 80-81, 83. 325 Minutes Adjourned 29th Quarterly General Meeting, 12th August 1868. The introduction of this policy is described in Part Three, Section 4.1.

133 the West End), the Shieldfield and Byker branches (both located in the East End), and Gosforth in Salter’s Lane north of the City. As we have already noted, the establishment of these branches was in itself an expansion of the radius of the society. The development of the delivery service, however, magnifies that expansion. Each new branch provided a new node from which to make deliveries, and deliveries went out almost every day of the week. The cartmen travelled all over the city of Newcastle, and also out into the surrounding villages. We know, for example, that they delivered to Mayfield, Coxlodge, Fawdon, Kenton, Seaton Burn, Dudley and a couple of other villages near Newcastle. The quarterly report contained a list stating the times of delivery, and members were asked to kindly notice the arrangements printed in the report when they ordered a delivery so that they would know when the delivery would arrive.326 The delivery service, then, can be seen as twigs on the branches, further increasing the reach of the Newcas- tle Society. The flipside of that coin is that it aggravates the problem of border conflicts, for branches and twigs could easily encroach upon the territory of other societies. The list of branches in 1879 contains an example of one specific route to branch establishment which sidesteps the problem of border conflicts, namely amalgamation. The Newcastle Society was able to establish the branch in Salter's Lane in Gosforth after it had taken over the consumer co-operative society in Bullman Village in 1869. During the period of our inquiry, the Newcastle Soci- ety took over six other consumer co-operative societies (see Figure 3 in the middle of the book, showing the family tree of the Newcastle Society). Yet, as we shall see, amalgamation was not a very popular solution among the consumer co- operatives societies on Tyneside. Instead, the directors of individual societies defended, and tried to expand, the trading area of their society, thus causing “trade- boundary conflicts” to break out. Gathering from what we find in internal discussions – mainly at board meetings – the Newcastle Society crossed trade boundaries when goods were delivered, new members recruited, and, at times, when new branches were established. Even in the early 1880s there are complaints from the board of the Cramlington Society that the Newcastle Society was attracting members from their society by offering some sort of credit.327 The board of the Newcastle Society explained in a letter that there had been a misunder- standing, and the Cramlington Society board was appeased for the moment.328 But this was not the end of the correspondence between the two societies insofar as trade boundaries are concerned. Again and again, the Cramlington Society complains about branches and travelling shops of the Newcastle Society attracting people in their trading area. Examples abound from the 1920s to the

––––––––– 326 See delivery list in The Seventy-first Quarterly Report of the Society being for Quarter ending Ja- nuary 7th, 1879, in 120/5. 327 The details of this incident are presented in this part below in Section 2.3. 328 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 11th September 1883 and Minutes Directors’ Meeting 18th September 1883. Credit trade was forbidden in the Rules of the Newcastle Society at least in 1895. See Quar- terly General Meeting 138th October 39th 1895. However, the Newcastle Society had introduced a club system that is a sort of credit system as early as 1888, see this part, Section 2.3.

134 1950s.329 Nor was Cramlington the only society to perceive the expansion of the Newcastle Society as somewhat predatory. The same holds for the board of the Throckley Society. In 1906, they complained about canvassers from the Newcas- tle Society trying to recruit members in the Throckley area.330 The board of the Throckley Society contacted the Newcastle Society board again with similar complaints in 1926, 1940, and 1957.331 The outcome and handling of all these trade-boundary conflicts, and in the other border conflicts I have found evidence of, demonstrates that the Newcastle Society held a strong position. When the shoe was on the other foot, i.e. when neighbouring societies intruded on the trading area of the Newcastle Society, the society showed second strike capability. The clearest challenges to the Newcastle Society came from the consumer co-operative societies in Blaydon and Walker. In 1910, the Walker Society had plans for building a branch store in Welbeck Road in the East End of Newcastle. They informed the board of the Newcastle Society about their plans, and received a protest in return. Throughout August, September and October the question was discussed at meetings with delegates from the two societies. The delegates studied maps of the area and discussed demarcation lines. The board of the Newcastle Society was bold enough to suggest that, if the residents living near the prospected store wished to be supplied with goods on co-operative lines, they could join their society instead. This "offer" was declined by the Walker Society. The response of the directors of the Newcastle Society was to assign their building sub-committee to inquire into the ––––––––– 329At the end of 1924 and beginning of 1925 a correspondence between the two societies regarding trading in the Forest Hall and discussions at directors’ meeting reveal that the two societies competed for the trading area. Eventually the Co-operative Union was involved in solving the conflict. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 16th December 1924, Minutes Directors’ Meeting 13th January 1925 and Minutes Directors’ Meeting 17th February 1925. The conflict was not solved in 1925 and only five years later the conflict came on the Agenda again, Minutes Directors’ Meeting 22nd April 1930. Then again in 1939 the Newcastle Society received complaints about delivering goods to members in villages that were established in an area that the board of the Cramlington Society considered as their trading area. It was suggested that members in the Newcastle Society who wished to retain that membership should carry their own goods. The board of the Newcastle Society resolved to try and find a line of demarcation. Later in the year a temporary truce was agreed on regarding overlapping because of the outbreak of war. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 14th February 1939, Minutes Directors’ Meeting 28th February 1939, Minutes Directors’ Meeting 25th April 1939, Minutes Di- rectors’ Meeting 19th June 1939 and Minutes Directors’ Meeting 23rd September 1939. Then in 1946 the board of the Newcastle Society agreed to meet the board of the Cramlington Society to discuss overlapping, see Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1946. And in 1948 a meeting between the two societies was arranged to discuss shopping facilities in Longbenton, see Jim Lamb’s Chro- nological Register 1946. In 1949 the two societies again agreed that the Hazelrigg area should be served by the Newcastle Society and in 1950 it was decided that each society should draw two lines on a map, one to be a building line and the other a serving line and then start negotiations. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1949 and 1950. But agreements were not always kept, because in 1955 it was reported that the Cramlington Society was operating in the Longbenton area, an area situated within the trading area of the Newcastle Society. However, it was decided that no action should be taken. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1955. 330 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 30th January 1906. 331 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 23rd February 1926. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1940 and 1957.

135 possibility of establishing a branch in Welbeck Road. In October 1910, the New- castle Society opened a branch in that road, resulting in protests from the Walker Society.332 The disagreements between the two societies continued, and the directors of the Walker Society declined several invitations to amalgamation, it was first in 1968 that they and the members of the Walker Society accepted to join the Newcastle Society.333 Apart from the risk of crossing trade boundaries and getting into conflict with neighbouring societies, the Newcastle Society encountered no particular external obstacles to the expansion of branches and stores – with one exception. The establishment of a co-operative branch in 1898 in Fern Avenue in Jesmond in the northern part of Newcastle was an apple of discord. For the better part of the 19th century, Jesmond – called the Belgravia of Newcastle – had been a suburb populated by middle class and upper middle class households. In this area, the inhabitants lived in their own houses, not in rows of Tyneside flats like the residents in the West and East Ends. By the end of the 19th century, however, Jesmond had become crowded. The area was still attractive to the new middle class, who saw a Jesmond address as proof that they had made the move across the social divide from working to middle class. Yet, for landowners who wanted to maximise their profit, it was tempting to build flats instead of houses.334 The Newcastle Society had been delivering goods to members in Jesmond at least since the 1870s, albeit the rounds to Jesmond were less frequent than to other parts of the city.335 With the transformation of the area in the late 1890s, the potential for co-operative trading increased in the area. The Newcastle Soci- ––––––––– 332 Minutes of Directors’ Meetings 9th, 23rd, 30th August, 6th September, 11th, 18th October 1910. 333 The board of the Walker Society complained about the Newcastle Society building a branch in their area. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1928. Letter received from Walker Society indicating that the Newcastle Society’s canvassers were canvassing orders in their trading area, for instance had a canvasser called upon a board member of the Walker Society. Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 11th June 1929. See also Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 23rd of July where it was decided that a letter be sent to the Walker Society indicating that the board could not see their way to comment on the matter of canvassing. Then during the War in 1940 the two societies came into conflict over milk deliveries, see Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1940. In 1946 the board of the New- castle Society again suggested that the Walker Society agree to amalgamation, but the answer was negative, see Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1946. At the end of the 1950s the Walker Society was openly invading the trading area of the Newcastle Society with milk supplies. Negotiations between the two societies took place and with the assistance of representatives from the Co-operative Union a settlement was reached. See Minutes of Directors’ Meetings 3rd, 24th November and 1st De- cember 1958. In 1966 a bitter complaint was received from the Walker Society following the acceptance by the Newcastle Society of an offer from the Newcastle Civic Authority to furnish a house in the Walker area. It was decided that Walker should be invited to partake if they contributed to the cost. The answer from Walker was reported to the board but not minuted, see Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1966. The amalgamation took place in 1968, see Lamb and Warren, (1996), pp. 2,10. 334 Pearson Alix, Victorian Values. A Study of the Development of a Victorian Middle Class housing Suburb, (1990), Dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment for the Degree of Master of Arts in Ur- ban studies at Newcastle Polytechnic, unpublished, p. 30-32. 335 See delivery list in The Seventy-first Quarterly Report of the Society being for Quarter ending Ja- nuary 7th, 1879, in 102/5. Deliveries to Jesmond took place on Saturdays from Newgate Street and on Mondays and Saturdays from the Shieldfield Branch.

136 ety decided to build a store and houses at the Anderson Land, in Fern Avenue. An article in the Newcastle Daily Chronicle, published on November 2nd 1898, reported protests from the inhabitants of Jesmond, particularly from those in the streets adjacent to where the store and flats were being built. Earlier that year, some inhabitants had handed in a motion to the City Council, asking them to stop the building plans, but the motion had been defeated. The Northern Gossip Sup- plement published a cartoon showing a mass exodus from Jesmond to the more respectable suburb of Benton. An adjoining poem supposedly captured the sentiments of the concerned inhabitants of Jesmond.336 An extract from the poem gives the flavour of the protests: What use to be exclusive Why marvel that our daughters In our houses and our hats? Should be steeped in utter grief? When a levelling age imposes When they know that Fern Avenue The Co-op and workmen Will smell of scrap and beef.337 flats? The complaint about "a levelling age" imposing "the Co-op and workmen flats" is no doubt an expression of resentment and fear that the establishment of a co- op branch in Jesmond would blur social distinctions. At the same time, it should be underlined that, in spite of the resistance on the part of local inhabitants, the Jesmond branch was in fact established. There were obviously a sufficient number of potential members in the area, for the branch expanded into several departments and a meeting-hall. Thirty years later, a second branch was established in Jesmond.338 For a picture of the branch in Fern Avenue, see picture 3 in the middle of the book. There were external obstacles to the branch expansion of the Newcastle Soci- ety, but they were by no means insurmountable. By the turn of the century, the society had branches in all the districts of Newcastle. The Newcastle Society continued to build new branches in the suburbs and new housing estates, and the web of branches became more dense. Parallel with this expansion, however, communications improved in Newcastle and along the Tyne, making it easier for people to commute. In order to clarify why this was a significant change, with an impact on the affairs of the Newcastle Society, it suffices to remind ourselves of the mechanism underlying the pattern of expansion. Building new branches was a means of getting close to those who were already members. It simultaneously increased the reach of the society, making it convenient for a larger number of people to join. One branch could contain a number of different stores, organised into departments, and an existing branch could be supplemented with more stores.

––––––––– 336 Pearson, (1990), p. 37-38. 337 The second and third verses of a poem from a Grainger Street satirist in The Northern Gossip Supplement May 15th 1897, quoted in Pearson, (1990), p. 39. The Co-op Store in Jesmond was established in Fern Avenue. 338 See Part Four, Section 3.2.

137 Over the years, then, there was a build-up of stores located in the branches, where some catered to everyday needs and others – such as the shoe and boots or drapery departments – offered goods of a kind that you would buy less often. Yet, if the built-up services were the products of successive extensions of the society's reach, that structure could potentially be threatened by a development which, so to speak, expanded the reach of the customer. And this is exactly what the introduction of improved communications does. With these considerations in mind, it is instructive to give a rough picture of the timing of the changes in local communications. The first horse tram turned up in the streets of Newcastle in 1879. This type of tram became popular, but the routes were limited to main roads, and the service was infrequent and relatively expensive. The real improvement in this respect came later, with the introduction of electric trams in 1904. In 1912, Bainbridge announced that 2,500 trams passed their doors each day.339 Now, the possibility of easily getting into town probably did not have a very substantial effect on daily shopping. Foodstuffs would, in all likelihood, still be bought close to home. But dry goods constituted another matter. The small departments of the co-op branches had a hard time matching the much wider selection on offer in the centre of Newcastle. As a consequence, both the shoes and boots and the drapery departments of the branches suffered – a fact which was also pointed out to the board by the members.340 Electric trams were only the first step. When motor buses came into the picture in the 1920s, the pattern and frequency of traffic within the city continued to change. The really drastic changes in communication patterns and infrastructure did not take place until the 1960s, when Newcastle was remodelled into a city fit for cars.341 While improved communications could have adverse effects on the Newcastle Society, it also brought benefits. This becomes especially clear if we consider the situation in the region. The Newcastle Society had built up a considerable business operation before the advent of convenient communications. Its location in the city, and the consistent growth of services, made it possible to attract a considerable number of members, and this, in turn, enabled the society to provide more, and more diversified, services. Hence, as communications in the region also improved, the Newcastle Society could attract members further out in the periphery, at the expense of some other consumer co-operative societies and perhaps of some multiples as well. The railway system for regional communication along the Tyne was introduced in the middle of the 19th century, which made it easier to commute between the coast and Newcastle. Competition from the elec- trified tramway at the turn of the century triggered the North Eastern Railway to ––––––––– 339 Newcastle's Chainging Map, (1992), pp. 44-45. Newcastle’s tramways were bought by the City Council in 1901. The electrification of the trams began even then but it was only in 1904 that the main core of the new tram system was completed. Hanson Noel, “Getting about”, in Water under the Bridges: Newcastle’s Twentieth Century History, (1999), p. 56. For the comment on how many trams passed the doors of Bainbridge see Lancaster, (1995), p. 13. 340 See Part Four, Section 3.1. 341 Newcastle's Changing Map, (1992), p. 45. Byrne David, “The Reconstruction of Newcastle: Plan- ning since 1945, in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), pp. 341-360.

138 electrify its trains and turn the railway into a Metro, thus beating the Metro in London by five years.342 Inhabitants in Newcastle could now move to communities outside the city, even to the coast, while still working and shopping in New- castle. Members living in, for example, Whitley Bay and Cullercoast could then demand that their purchased goods be delivered to them, and the Newcastle So- ciety was willing to oblige. The board of the North Shields Society protested, on the grounds that Whitley Bay and Cullercoast were situated in their trading area. They expressed their opinion in a letter to the Newcastle Society, related thus in the minutes from a directors’ meeting in 1910: "They [i.e. the North Shields So- ciety] regarded this as overlapping, which they asserted was evil according to the widespread opinion in the co-operative movement".343 The complaints of the North Shields Society were of no avail, for the board of the Newcastle Society decided to continue the deliveries of goods to members living in their area.344 Yet, the problem kept resurfacing at the meetings, and the disagreement was finally settled in 1917: it was agreed that the seaside members of the Newcastle Society should be transferred to the North Shields Society.345 In the same year, the Newcastle and the Gateshead societies agreed that no deliveries should be made, by either of them, across the Tyne Bridge after 31st Decem- ber. They also agreed that, if any person living in the area of the other society applied for membership, then that member should be transferred to the society operating in the area where the member lived.346 While agreements like these restored the peace and facilitated business management, they were no guarantee that the problem was solved. As an example, we may cite an agreement between the Newcastle and the Blaydon societies from the beginning of the Second World War. Their arrangement detailed the areas in which each society could register customers under the rationing scheme. Yet, in November 1939, the general manager of the Newcastle Society reported that the Blaydon Society had broken the agreement, and the general manager had immediately, with the sanction of the chairman, introduced measures to secure business for their society. The secretary had then proceeded to inform both the Blaydon Society and the Co-operative Union about the measures of the Newcastle Society.347 Overlapping continued to be a source of trouble well into the post-war period, and the resistance to amalgamations made the situation difficult. However, conflicting parties were not entirely left to their own devices in settling their dis- ––––––––– 342 Newcastle's Changing Map, (1992), p. 45. Lendrum, (2001), pp. 32-33. 343 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 19th April 1910. 344 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 19th April 1910. 345 Deputation from North Shields was met and discussed the accepting and delivering of orders by Newcastle Society in the North Shields area. No decision was reached. See Jim Lamb’s Chrono- logical Register 1913. For the agreement between the two societies see Minutes of Directors’ Meet- ing 27th December 1917. 346 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 20th November 1917 and Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 4th De- cember 1917. It was at the December meeting that the agreement with the Gateshead Society was presented. At the same meeting it was also resolved that the 112 persons, but for four who lived in other areas than the trading area of the Society, be admitted membership, thus showing that the agreement was followed. 347 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 11th November 1939.

139 agreements. We have already seen an example of a society appealing to the "widespread opinion of the co-operative movement" to support its case. The wider co-operative movement was also present in a more tangible sense, in the form of the Co-operative Union. The union could take an active part in local border conflicts, functioning as arbitrator in specific cases or making recommendations and proposals on a national level. The Co-operative Union thus tried to find solutions to tie the societies on Tyneside closer together. In addition, the organisation backed up a scheme to make it easier for member customers to shop in co-op stores, no matter where they lived, and still receive a dividend on purchases. In our context what was called the National Membership Scheme is interesting in two respects. On the one hand, it is a conscious attempt from the national co- operative movement to broaden the range and extent of service for all members of its societies. It is, in other words, part and parcel of the expansion of services. On the other hand, the scheme had differential effects on different consumer co- operative societies. For both reasons, this particular scheme merits special attention. The story is as follows. In 1949, a national membership scheme was introduced. Such a device had been recommended by the Co-operative Reorganisa- tion Inquiry Committee as early as 1945, but it had to wait four years before it was implemented. The idea was simply that members of those co-operative societies which joined the scheme should be able to shop in other co-operative societies, and that they should receive a dividend on their purchases through a system of national membership checks.348 A much larger selection of stores, and consequently also of goods, would thus be made available to the members. This would make it possible for members to make use of their membership while being on vacation, visiting relatives, or going into town. The last example, however, also gives us an indication as to why the national membership scheme had different consequences for different societies. It is no doubt likely that members from countryside or peripheral co-operatives will travel into town, and avail themselves of the opportunity to shop from a wide selection of goods in the city, but it is far less likely that city dwellers will travel in the reverse direction to do their shopping. This is reflected in the figures of the Newcastle Society. In 1949, members from 172 co-operative societies had made purchases for £21,973 from the Newcastle Society, whereas Newcastle members had only spent £2,842 in the stores of other societies. The Newcastle Society would continue to benefit from this scheme throughout the 1950s, even if the ratio of ingoing and outgoing purchases changes somewhat over time.349 These figures could, as it were, be taken as evidence of the favourable trading position which the Newcastle Society had ––––––––– 348 Bonner Arnold, British Co-operation, (1970), Co-operative Union Ltd, Manchester, p. 285. 349 Minutes 354th Quarterly General Meeting 26th October 1949. In 1957 members from other societies bought goods in the Newcastle Society for £62,185 and members in the Newcastle Society bought goods in other societies for £40,496. Two years later the margins had increased again when members from 328 different societies had bought goods for £98,980 in Newcastle and members in the Newcastle Society only spent £36,977 in other co-ops. The figures were announced in the An- nual Reports and consequently at quarterly meetings. See Minutes 384th Quarterly General Meeting 24th April 1957 and Minutes 394th Quarterly General Meeting, Wednesday 28th October 1959.

140 in the region. This becomes even clearer if we compare with the reactions of the co-operative societies in Throckley and Wallsend; they would not agree to issue national membership checks to members of societies in the immediate vicinity.350 There is a rationale behind their reluctance, for they would most certainly end up on the losing side. So far we have followed the build-up of branches in the Newcastle Society, tracing its development, and pointing to some important mechanisms that shaped it. In rough chronology, we have seen how that build-up interacted with and was influenced by external conditions – in the guise of local resistance to co- operation, border conflicts, and the broader context of the co-operative movement. In our account, however, we have passed over another development, related to stores rather than branches. At this juncture, it is necessary to pick up that thread as well, and the introduction of the national membership scheme provides us with an opportunity to begin to unwind it. The national membership scheme was introduced in a retail context where formerly regional multiples had amalgamated or had been taken over by national multiples, and where multiples from the United States had been established. The- se multiples posed a threat, not only to the small stores in the branches but also to business in the central premises of the consumer co-operative societies. Cen- tral premises had themselves undergone considerable changes. From the 1930s onwards, many co-operative societies had rebuilt their central premises and made them into department stores, called Co-operative emporiums. The old central premises were basically construed in the same fashion as the branches, i.e. as a set of separate stores assembled in one location. Co-operative emporiums, on the other hand, were not only integrated department stores, but they were often rebuilt as well and endowed with a rather imposing appearance. The Newcastle Society is no exception. The society rebuilt its central premises into a department store in 1932, making the Co-operative emporium in Newgate Street – shown on picture 4 and 5 in the middle pages of the book – into an impressive building in art deco style. Yet, all Co-operative Emporiums were also facing increasingly sharp competition from the department stores of nationally spread multiples like Marks & Spencer, British Home Stores (BHS), and Woolworths.351 Competition had, of course, been there all along. Newcastle had old well- es- tablished department stores like Bainbridge and Fenwick, but competition got tougher with the arrival of national multiples. In the case of the Newcastle Soci- ety, the refashioning of the central premises coincided with the arrival of one ––––––––– 350 The board of the Newcastle Society decided to participate in the National Membership Scheme. Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 2nd January 1948. Throckley and Wallsend were not going to accept purchases from members of societies in the immediate vicinity. Further inquiries should be made. Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 11th February 1949. The boards of the Throckley and Wallsend societies had not changed their mind about the national membership checks and the board of the New- castle Society instructed the secretary to write to the Co-operative Union with information about the situation but without mentioning the names of the obstinate societies. Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 18th February 1949. 351 Mathias, (1967). Morrison, (2003), chapter 10 Kings of Commerce: Multiple Shops and Chain Stores.

141 such competitor. In 1932, C&A built a department store, in the same style and size as the Co-operative emporium, in Northumberland Street. BHS rented one wing of this department store.352 Trying to keep up with the new multiple department stores was something that troubled many other consumer co-operative societies. At the Co-operative Con- gress in 1914 The General Co-operative Survey Committee was appointed. After the War this committee presented a series of reports with recommendations on different measures that would improve the performance of the co-operative businesses. One of the measures recommended was that the societies should, on their own or in co-operation with neighbour societies, establish large co-operative department stores in the centre of the big towns and cities. The societies were also encouraged to imitate some of the methods of the multiple chains stores, i.e. an uniform systems of packing and wrapping goods, and an uniform design of branch stores. On the whole the committee recommended the societies to end the trade boundary conflicts, co-operate, and invest more resources in educational and social activities.353 This was of course only recommendations that societies could follow if they wished. The national membership scheme is an example of a more direct attempt from the federal level of consumer co-operative movement to improve the co-operative businesses nationally, and thereby neutralise the competitive advantages, particularly in the dry goods sector, of powerful multiples backed by huge capital and armed with new ideas from other cities and from the United States. Let us, however, leave dry goods for a while and concentrate instead on the food trade. During the first half of the 20th century, food trade in Newcastle was split between individual traders with small shops, the stores of the Newcastle So- ciety, and the regionally founded multiples. As we move on through the century, the balance gradually shifts in favour of the two latter categories. It is only in the Post-War period, however, that we witness a dramatic decrease in the number of individual traders. In 1950, almost four-fifths of the food stores were owned by independent traders; thirty years later, the proportion had dropped to less than one fifth.354 Many different causes presumably combined to produce this result. Brian Bennison has pointed out, for example, that the independent shopkeepers were hard hit by the Second World War, when many housewives registered with those stores which they thought had the best stock and where they would be able to get the products they were granted. Customers opted for the multiples and the co-op stores. Throughout the rationing period, they gained new customers, while individual traders suffered from a corresponding reduction of customer potential.355 The effects of this continued into the Post-War period. Other factors were also important. One reason why individual traders made up a large proportion of food traders in the early 1950s was that building regulations had prevented retailers from erecting completely new stores, thus hampering the ––––––––– 352 Morrison, (2003), pp. 154, 196-197. 353 Cole, (1947), pp. 293-295. 354 Bennison, (1999), p. 49. 355 Bennison, (1999), p. 48.

142 expansion of big market actors. Successive relaxations of these building regulations during the 1950s removed that hurdle. Retailers who were eager to expand would at first try to work around the obstacles by introducing travelling shops.356 And the Newcastle Society had good reasons for expansion. As we have seen above, the expansion pattern of the society is structured by the mechanism of getting stores near those who were already members. But when new housing estates were built in the 1950s, members who had previously lived close to a branch store moved to areas lacking co-op stores. So the chairman of the New- castle Society explained – at the quarterly meetings in January and October in 1955 – that the society had introduced more travelling shops, since the board and management was experiencing difficulties in extending and acquiring new premises.357 There is no doubt, however, that the board and management were planning for expansion. They had, among other things, applied for building permission at the new housing estates of Longbenton, Kenton and Fawdon.358 At the end of the 1950s – and from then onwards – the relaxation of building regulation made it possible, for those multiples and consumer co-operative societies which could afford it and could acquire sites, to build new stores. For the Newcastle Society, however, this coincided with changes in the store structure. This society would not merely be building branches of the old kind, being in the process of building self-service stores, and eventually supermarkets. Many small independent traders could not afford such investment costs, and were therefore left behind in the development of the retail trade.359 The conversion into self- service was a considerable change in the food trade and required substantial investments. Consumer co-operative societies in London had introduced their members to self-service at the very beginning of the 1940s, i.e. in times of war and rationing.360 The board of the Newcastle Society was somewhat more hesitant as to the merits of this new trading method. In 1948, the board appointed a committee to conduct a survey on how to implement self-service. The committee suggested that a self-service store should open already in September 1952, but it failed to convince all directors: five voted for, six voted against.361 Hence, it was not until 1955 that the chairman could announce at a member meeting that the premises in Stephenson Road and West Road would be converted into “Self Se- lection Confectionary shops”, and that, if these were successful, other shops would be converted as well.362 Yet, even if the Newcastle Society lagged behind

––––––––– 356 Morrison, (2003), p. 156. 357 Minutes 375th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1955. The society was endeavouring to improve its services to members, but these were held up due to the slowness of the local authorities in granting permission, but the chairman hoped the next few months would see considerable change. Minutes of the 378th Quarterly Meeting, 26th October 1955. 358 ”The Society was awaiting decisions of the local authorities with regard to additional premises at Longbenton, Kenton, Fawdon etc.” Minutes 380th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th April 1956. 359 Benson John, The Rise of Consumer Society in Britain, 1880-1980, (1994), Longman, Harlow, p. 41. 360 Morrison, (2003), p. 275. 361 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 28th May 1948. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 26th September 1952. 362 Minutes 376th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th April 1955.

143 their London equivalents, the society was nevertheless – gathering from available evidence – one of the first traders in Newcastle to convert their stores into self-service, and they also introduced two self-service buses touring the outlying estates.363 This was arguably a factor in the increasing marginalisation of individual traders. Thus began a slow and gradual conversion of old co-op stores, with services behind the counter, into new self-service stores, in the second half of the 1950s. Alas, this process did not affect all departments immediately. The trade account from 1958 reveals that it was generally greengroceries or/and bread and confec- tioneries departments that had moved into the grocery and provision stores. Butchery departments either remained as separate stores or were incorporated into the self-service stores as butchery counters.364 Moreover, the process of conversion into self-service cannot be equated with rationalisation. Chart 3 below reveals that the impact of the rationalisation process was delayed and took off only in the 1960s. Chart 3. Store development: The Newcastle Society 1860-1968

300

200

100

Number of stores 0 1860 1872 1884 1896 1908 1920 1932 1944 1956 1968 1866 1878 1890 1902 1914 1926 1938 1950 1962

Year Source chart 3: “A Brief Account…” (1886) and from quarterly reports of the society. Reports ending in October for the years 1867, 1868, 1872, 1873 and 1879. Reports ending July for the years 1869 and 1880. For 1874 it was the January quarterly report. The period 1880 to 1940 is based on Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register. And the period 1941 to 1970 is based on trade account sent to the Co-operative Union.

––––––––– 363 Bennison, (1999), p. 49. 364 The butcher stores are accounted for separately in Trade Account September 6th 1958, in NECS’s archive Jackson Street. In a film from 1965 we can see how expectant members at the opening of a new self-service store walk around in the shop. In one sequence the camera zooms in on the butchery counter and the delicatessen counters where contented representatives of the society stand talking. See NCFC 285 [Opening of Denton Burn Co-op] (1965), in The British Co-operative Move- ment Film Catalogued, compiled and edited by Burton Alan, (1997), Flicks Books, Trowbridge.

144 It is in fact significant that the conversion into self-service antedates rationalisation, in the form of a decrease in the number of stores. There is no denying that rationalisation was intertwined with, and facilitated by, conversions. But other events in the 1960s beyond the control of the society were also important. For, to some extent, rationalisation was forced upon the Newcastle Society in connection with the re-modelling of the cityscape, the decline of the industrial economy and competition from new actors on the retail scene. While these external events had an independent impact, affecting co-operatives and non-co-operatives alike, the crucial matter is how they combined with entrenched strategies and with the existing organisational structure. To spell this out, we will first make brief mention of these external events, and then proceed with a more general consideration of how they interact with the built-up organisation. Let us begin with the re-housing schemes of the 1960s, as described in our general outline of the transformation of the city of Newcastle. Redevelopment and slum clearances in the 1960s affected many of the branches of the Newcastle Society, particularly in the West End. In 1967, for example, the plans for the inner west of the city presented by the civic authority affected six of the society’s units.365 Such changes had a dual effect on the society. Not only did the society have to close down certain branches, it also had to contend with the fact that members who had been re-housed could no longer shop in the stores which they used to go to.366 To this should be added that Newcastle was simultaneously being adjusted to the "car society". More people could take the car to do their shopping, which would eventually favour large, low-price shopping precincts at the expense of small nearby stores. Along Scotswood Road, the rows of different shops thinned out as new local shopping precincts were built in the West End – in Denton Park, in Benwell and at Chruddas Park.367 The second external factor was the decline of the industrial economy. Rising unemployment figures, and the realisation that the jobs in the old basic industrial trades in the North East would be difficult to replace, also troubled the representatives of the society. At the quarterly meeting in April 1960, the chairman pointed out that the retail trade depended upon “good employment and prosperity” and that it “…was with great pride that the society holds the position of being the largest single business within the city and it would, therefore, have disastrous effects upon us if the employment position was worsened. He hoped, however, that the standard of living of all our members would continue to rise.”368 As we know, with the benefit of hindsight, unemployment would in fact grow worse. Rising unemployment, in conjunction with the competition from other actors on the retail stage, would also take its toll on the Newcastle Society. The latter factor is emphasised by Mr Lamb, director on the board of the Newcastle Society from 1962 to 1970 and representative on the board of Shoe Fare, the federal co- operative shoe store. Lamb points out that competition, particularly in the men’s ––––––––– 365 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1967. 366 Minutes Half Yearly General Meeting, 27th April 1966. 367 Bennison, (1999), p. 50. 368 Minutes 396th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th April 1960.

145 wear and shoes sectors, became more intense in the 1960s. During this decade a cluster of formerly independent traders and local chain stores in Newcastle were brought together under the umbrella of the National British Shoe Corporation. While these stores continued to trade by their old names, their buying and bargaining power was boosted as they were assembled within a national framework, and thus presented the Newcastle Society with stiff competition. According to Lamb, the society could have handled that competition better, if they had only joined forces with neighbouring societies and guaranteed that they would allow the CWS to buy for them.369 Lamb's account fits the description in Frank Mort's history of Burton's. Mort also adds to the picture by describing how Burton, which by the end of the 1960s had become a national chain store selling men’s wear, adapted its traditional marketing techniques to a more modern, and much more efficient, approach.370 The 1960s, then, was a time of changing communication patterns (due to the remodelling of the city), of rising unemployed figures, and of competition from new or heavily reinforced market actors on the retail stage. In addition, we should not forget that, by the time of the 1960s, the society had entered a very considerable number of retail sectors. Keeping up with competition in all these sectors was not easy. The joint effect of these factors was bad trading figures, and for the first time – not counting the members' decision in 1865 to close the first branch in Scotswood – the figures were sufficiently alarming to be perceived as a visible defeat. In 1966 the chairman was forced to announce that stores would have to be closed with the motivation that they were uneconomic to run.371 Now, the Newcastle Society's path through the 1960s was, despite what has been pointed out above, by no means a via dolorosa, but the society had to grapple with new problems. The crucial point to make in our context is that the character of both problems and available solutions was formed by the previous history of the society. Over the years, the Newcastle Society had built up a highly diverse set of services, branched out into the city, and opened an impressive number of stores. Both the strategy of expansion and its concrete results – buildings, personnel, infrastructure, etc. – were parts of the very structure that was to cope with these external changes. The problems brought on by the re-modelling of the cityscape, the emerging car society, and the decline of the industrial economy, increased the pressure on the society to rethink their traditional strategies for developing services and making them available to members. Still, it is not easy to change directions and break with strategies which have become entrenched during one hundred years of organisational life. A fair amount of path dependency is to be expected.

––––––––– 369 Interview Jim Lamb 8 Sept 1998. 370 Mort Frank, "The Commercial Domain: Advertising and the Cultural Management of Demand", in Commercial Cultures: Economies, Practices, Spaces, (2000), Eds. Jackson Peter, Lowe Michelle, Miller Daniel, and Mort Frank, Berg, Oxford and New York, pp. 38-41. 371 ”Church Road is being closed as an uneconomical unit and others where necessary will follow.” Minutes Half Yearly General Meeting, 27th April 1966.

146 In bringing our account of the history of the Newcastle Society to a close, it is therefore useful to point to a few lingering continuities and their insertion into the situation of the 1960s. We will do so with the aid of three examples, illustrating different aspects of continuity in the measures taken by the board and management of the Newcastle Society towards the end of the 1950s and in the 1960s. The first example concerns the purchase of a rival department store, the second deals with the introduction of a car sale, and the third revolves around the purchase of a unit in a new shopping centre. The first example gives us an opportunity to resume our discussion of the sale of dry goods, interrupted in the argument above by the digression into the issue of food sales. A couple of results from that digression will be useful in this context as well. In the late 1950s, the society had begun to introduce self-service and rebuild branch stores. The conversion into self-service stores affected the sale of food products, but not so much the sale of dry goods, i.e. the drapery departments in the different branches did not move into the new self-service stores. However, the society expanded its sales of dry goods in this period. The department store in Newgate Street built in 1932, had been continuously rebuilt and modernised, e.g. in 1959 when an escalator was installed.372 Yet, the expansion in the sale of dry goods eventually made this store quite crowded. To give an idea of the number of services assembled under this one roof, it suffices to mention a few examples: ladies hairdressing and a specialist sports department were established in 1935, the travel agency business in 1937, a men's wear department in 1945, the chiropody service in 1950, and a radio and electric equipment sale in 1953.373 Expanding the range of services, so as to cater to more member needs, was no doubt in line with the Newcastle Society's traditional strategy. By the end of the 1950s, the dry goods departments needed more space, and at the time it was not possible to expand the department store in Newgate Street. Thus, at the end of 1957, the society bought the premises of H. A. Murton at 68-82 Grainger Street, just a stone's throw away from Newgate Street. This was a costly affair, commended by some members and criticised by others.374 In the trade account from 1965, we can see that visitors to Murton House – the society kept the old name of the premises – could buy groceries, wine and spirits, drapery goods, men’s wear, footwear, sports goods, and toys. They could also visit the optician and the jewellery departments. Considering all the alterations that took place in the department store in Newgate Street, and the purchase of the Murton House, it is obvious that the board and management tried to keep up with competition, not by specialisation but by further widening the range of goods and services. That strategy requires substantial investments: introducing new services, installing

––––––––– 372 Minutes 393rd Quarterly General Meeting, 29th July 1959. 373 Jim Lamb's Chronological Register 1935, 1937, 1945, 1950 and 1953. 374 “Mr Burchard seconded the Report, expressed appreciation with the new entrance and alterations at Newgate Street and further paid tribute to the board’s foresight in the purchase of Murtons which was situated in a prominent position.” Minutes 386th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th October 1957. For the critic of the purchases see Part Four, Section 3.3.

147 new departments, hiring new staff, and building, modernising, and purchasing new premises. What the 1960s also brought was a drop in sales. Sales figures for the Murton House are presented separately in the balance sheet from 1963, and they show that, whereas there was an increase in sales from 1963 to 1966, sales clearly dropped in 1967.375 This was part of a more general trend, since the all-over turnover figure for the society fluctuated throughout the 1960s, with drops in 1962, 1964, 1967 and 1968.376 The question remains, then, how the society would react to this situation. That there was continuity in the responses of the society can be gleaned from the words of Mrs Brown, the acting chairman at the quarterly meeting in October 1967: We would have a new Cosmetic Section before Christmas and as soon as additional stock-room space was ready the Paints & Wallpaper Section would be housed on the second floor and with the introduction of new fix- turing would be completed as a ‘Home Centre’. /…/ In addition, we had decided to widen the range of our Grocery commodities in order to give our members the fullest possible range as only by those methods could we hope to attract customers into our shops and thus increase sales – for that is absolutely essential.377 The board was, in other words, aware of the need to attract more trade, especially in a situation when sales were going down. Yet, the response is stereotyped on older practices: the remedy is to further expand the range of goods and services. In a formal sense, the prescription is "more of the same", even if there must be variation in contents, i.e. in the concrete services to be introduced. We may, in a sense, describe this as organisational inertia, for it breeds a reluctance to unwind services and makes it difficult to keep up with developments in the plethora of service areas. On the other hand, there is also sensitivity to emerging member demands when new services are to be developed. This brings us to our second example. The development towards a car society may have upset the society's logic of getting close to those who were already members, but it also suggested new service areas. A car sales and service department was introduced in 1965, and long before that, in 1951, the society had begun to sell petrol.378 There are no figures for the sale of cars in the trade accounts which I have had access to. There are figures for the sale of petrol, however, and they show an increase from £25,000 to £128,000 for the period between 1960 and 1967.379 It is difficult to say how this development compares to that of their competitors. What we can say is that the new service was a success for the Newcastle Society. When members got cars, the society introduced car- related services – and the members used them.

––––––––– 375 See Trade Accounts 1958, 1960, 1963, 1965 and 1967. 376 See chart 9 Turnover figures Newcastle Society 1872-1969, in Part Four, Chapter 3. 377 Minutes Half Yearly Meeting, 25th October 1967. 378 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1965. See also Part Four, Section 3.3. 379 Trade Accounts 1960, 1963, 1965, 1966 and 1967.

148 If our first two examples have dealt with continuities within the organisation, the third and last one points instead to a continuity in the organisational environment, namely in the relation between co-operatives. During the 1960s, shopping centres had begun to emerge in Newcastle. The Newcastle Society was interested in keeping up with this development. So when the Newbiggin Hall Shopping Development was under way in 1967, the society applied for a particular shop unit on the premises. The civic authorities opposed their proposal, however, and offered them instead a smaller unit. The board thought this unfair.380 The negotiations with the local authorities continued, but the board of the New- castle Society also contacted the Throckley Society in the hope of finding a joint solution and gaining additional bargaining power. The representatives from the Newcastle Society went so far as to suggest an amalgamation. But neither the ri- valries from old border conflicts, nor the sceptic attitude towards amalgamations, had disappeared. The board of the Throckley Society answered that they intended to modernise their premises near the new shopping development, and that they would not consider amalgamation at the moment.381 The negotiations with the authorities were nevertheless successful, and in April 1968 the board was optimistic. They were now sure that the society would acquire the larger unit they had wanted in the first place.382 The example illustrates that the Newcastle Society tried to keep up with competition and getting into the new shopping precincts; it also provides an illustration of the continuing competition for trade between consumer co-operatives. Local societies still guarded their independence in 1967. At the same time, the federal organisation was concerned with increasing the scope of consumer co- operative societies, and local co-operatives were subject to the attention of the Co-operative Union. The Co-operative Union had recently issued a regional plan, which proposed the formation of a new society consisting of Walker, St. Anthony’s, Throckley and the Newcastle Society.383 The board of the Newcastle Society approved of the plan, and, backed up by the initiative from the Co- operative Union, they made a further attempt in 1967 to enter into negotiations with neighbouring societies about forming a regional society. Again, however, the response was chilly from the other societies embraced by the plan. The Walker Society immediately declined amalgamation.384 In fact, the only positive response came from the board of the Gateshead Society, which was not even included in the plan. The Newcastle Society did seize the opportunity opened up by the positive stance taken by the Gateshead Society. It was decided that the society should send a representative to a meeting with representatives from the Gateshead, Wallsend, North Shields and Jarrow societies.385 In their report back from this ––––––––– 380 Minutes Half Yearly Meeting, 25th October 1967. 381 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1967. 382 Minutes Half Yearly Meeting, 24th April 1968. 383 The Plan was presented at a Directors’ Meeting in June 1967. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 23rd 1967. 384 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 24th June 1967. 385 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 2nd July 1967.

149 meeting, the appointed representatives said that the talks had been exploratory, and that they – alongside the representatives from the Gateshead Society – had been the chief contributors to the discussion.386 In September, the chief executive officer explained that an amalgamation between the societies on Tyneside would only be possible if they started a process of obtaining uniformity in the operations of the individual societies. This condition was accepted by the board.387 But the process to make the operations in the individual societies more uniform proved to be difficult, and officials from the Newcastle Society were against some of the suggestions of how to obtain uniformity.388 Negotiations broke down, and in 1968 the minutes contain no references to discussions about a regional society. The board had other items on the agenda, such as the falling sale figures.389 Amalgamation would eventually come about. This happened in 1970, resulting in the creation of the North Eastern Co-operative Society, thus marking the terminal point of our inquiry. Yet, the account above shows that achieving amalgamations was a laborious and conflict-ridden process until the very end. With this last example, we have worked our way through the history of service developments in the Newcastle Society, from the beginning in 1860 to the amalgamation in 1970. It is time to summarise our findings and assign them a place in the overall argument. To be sure, an analytical summary must remain incomplete at this stage, before we can reap the benefits of a contrasting comparison with Solidar in Malmö. Indeed, this remark is in itself a specification of the place of our account so far: it is one of two cases in our comparative effort, and its significance is partly dependent upon the corresponding exposition of the development of services in Solidar. Moreover, we announced at the outset that the role of this part would be to trace the outer contours of service development, and that the amassed materials would serve as a point of departure for the remaining parts of the book. We are now in a position to make this general proposition more concrete. The preceding pages have shown how services multiply over the years; how the number of stores increases, reaching a peak value of 233 stores, and then de- clines somewhat; how the web of branches gradually reaches out into new areas in the city and becomes increasingly dense. The next issue is the pattern of that expansion. Several boundary conditions work as codeterminants. The local ecology of co-operative societies has a role to play, as do the rules of conduct for in- tersociety relations; competition is of course a crucial factor, and external events in society at large are also part of the equation. Important as these influences are, however, they are all filtered through the organisation itself. It is possible to discern an underlying organisational dynamic, which cannot be left out of an account of the pattern of expansion. Branching out, and thereby getting stores near those who are already members, is part of that dynamic, and so is the use of ser- ––––––––– 386 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 4th August 1967. 387 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 15th September 1967. 388 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 17th November. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 8th December 1967. 389 See chart 9 Turnover figures Newcastle Society 1872-1969, in Part Four, Chapter 3.

150 vice diversification as a method to attract and retain customers. The significance of these strategies can only be valued once we have something to compare them with and therefore we must now devote attention to our second case, Solidar.

1.2 Co-operative retail services in the retail context of Malmö and the south-west corner of Skåne The history of Solidar covers a much shorter timespan than its British counterpart. It was formed in 1907, thus lagging behind the Newcastle Society by almost fifty years. In many respects, the demi-siècle that separates the two societies marks a wide gulf in social time. Electric lighting, telegraphs, telephones, and a vast array of industrial techniques certainly make 1907 a far cry from 1860, and the same observation holds for global transformations of the economic, social and political landscapes. But clearly, Malmö in 1907 was also something other than contemporary Newcastle. Let us therefore narrow down our scope to these two particular cities and the regions they are situated in. More narrowly still, let us focus on the development of consumer co-operation and how it is inserted into a sequence of urbanisation and industrialisation. For granted that we accept this analytic restriction of vision, there are some similarities that make a comparison relevant, and some differences that provide food for thought. Malmö, too, had a drastic increase in population, but it did not arrive until 1870. Like the Newcastle case, the population increase in Malmö was associated with "growing pains": poor housing conditions, inadequate infrastructure, and deficiencies in food distribution. We have already touched upon these matters. What was left out of that account, however, was the transformation of the local business life that also accompanied the population increase and in the case of food distribution the "growing pains" were there but in comparison with New- castle they were not that salient. Looking at the development of the food trade, and later the retail trade in general, we do not find the same kind of problems with the old markets in Malmö as we did in Newcastle. For one thing, the physical obstacle of a city wall was not there when the population figures took off. The fortifications and the ramparts that had been built during the 17th and 18th centuries were dismantled and levelled with the ground at the beginning of the 19th century. In the 1810s new districts connected with the old buildings were built both in the south and east ends of Malmö, expanding the area of the city by 75 per cent. The building of a proper harbour was also started but all further building plans came to a halt in the middle of the 1820s when a financial crisis in the aftermath of the Napoleonic Wars hit investors and builders in the city.390 However, once this crisis waned out in the 1850s, the local authorities started to prepare for an expected immigration and an expansion of the city boundaries.391

––––––––– 390 Malmös kartor: Från 1500-talet till idag, (2003), Ed. Tyke Tykesson, Historiska Media, Lund, pp. 90-95, 112-115, 120-120. 391 Malmös kartor: Från 1500-talet till idag, (2003), 116.

151 Even though the authorities could not have foreseen the boom in the establishment of industries and immigration that came with the 1870s, the plans made and the successive expansion of the city boundaries that had already taken place implied a different outset for the development of the food and retail trade in Malmö than in Newcastle. In the 1850s there were already three large squares and one smaller square in Malmö but it was only Stortorget (the Large Square) and Lilla Torg (the Little Square) that were used for regular trade.392 When more people moved into Malmö all three squares were ready to be used and the risk for crowding and disturbance was not as immediate as in our British case. The outdoor markets and fairs remained familiar features in the street scenery of Malmö well into the 20th century. With the increase in population the farmers and other traders coming in from the countryside met with a ready market. The number of outdoor markets increased successively. In the middle of the 1890s we find two major markets for provisions, that is, everything from groceries, fruit and vegetables to meat. These markets had different opening hours.393 In addition to these main markets there were two fish markets and one market for the sale of cattle and horses. At Gustaf Adolfs torg, a square established in 1811, the sale of other kinds of products took place from Monday to Saturday until four in the afternoon, but on Thursdays the trade could go on until six in the evening.394 The number of markets, what was sold, and the opening hours would successively change. In the 1910s we find nine major markets in use. The newer markets were situated in the southern suburbs, where a great many workers lived. These newer markets were established in the two squares of Möllevångstor- get and Södervärnstorg in 1911.395 At the turn of the century a couple of indoor markets were built in Malmö, one at Lilla Torg and one at the southern end of Föreningsgatan, a street that connected the east and southern parts of the city.396 The local authorities’ regulations for these indoor markets stated that only food, flowers and fruit could be sold there, and that the sellers had to keep their booths tidy.397 I have found no instructions for sale and marketing methods, e.g. demands on market prices. However, in a picture from inside the indoor market in Föreningsgatan from the ––––––––– 392 Guide till Malmös arkitektur, (2001), Eds. Tyke Tykesson et al, Arkitektur Förlag AB, Stockholm, pp. 13, 16. 393 At Stortorget food could be bought all day from Monday to Saturday, at Gasverkstorget from Monday to Saturday until two o’clock in the afternoon, and on Sundays and public holidays only to nine o’clock in the morning.There was no information about the times when the markets opened in the morning only when some of them closed. Kungörelse angående allmänna saluplatser i Malmö, (1894), Malmö C. A. Andersson & C:s boktr. (Malmö Stadsarkiv). 394 Kungörelse angående allmänna saluplatser i Malmö, (1894), Malmö C. A. Andersson & C:s boktr. 395 Kungörelse angående allmänna saluplatser i Malmö, (1896), Malmö C. A. Andersson & C:s boktr. Kungörelse angående allmänna saluplatser i Malmö, (1900), Malmö C. A. Andersson & C:s boktr. Kungörelse angående allmänna saluplatser i Malmö, (1904), Malmö C. A. Andersson & C:s boktr. Kungörelse angående allmänna saluplatser i Malmö, (1911), Malmö C. A. Andersson & C:s boktr. 396 Bjurling Oscar, ”Handel och sjöfart i Malmö 1914-1939”, in Malmö stads historia, (1989), p. 147. 397 Instruktion för Styrelsen för Malmö stads saluhallar, Malmö C. A. Andersson & C:s boktr., 1902.

152 beginning of the 1910s one can see that only the price of cheese was clearly displayed. Thus, to find out about the prices of other products in the stall customers were obliged to ask.398 The indoor market has not received as much attention in the Swedish literature on the development of the retail trade as it has in the British literature. Still, the establishment of these new institutions in Swedish cities and major towns has been explained as the result of specialisation and health control. The local authorities tried to attain a more hygienic trade in above all meat, fish and milk products and they saw the establishment of indoor markets with strict regulations as a solution. Moreover, Hirdman, who addresses the subject in a study of Stock- holm, states that the local authorities wished to establish more orderly markets. They wanted to take control over who sold goods in Stockholm, and reduce prices by cutting out the middlemen, or at least some of them.399 To find out the motivations behind the establishment of indoor markets and their effects on the retail trade in Malmö, we need more in-depth studies. Still, it is possible that, like in Newcastle, new kinds of trading practices were introduced in Malmö with the opening of indoor markets. Parallel with the establishment of more outdoor and indoor markets in Malmö, an expansion of shops took place. Once the trade had been deregulated in 1864, resulting in full freedom of trade, there were few restrictions, save for financial limitations and health regulations, to prevent people from starting a business. With the rise in population from the 1870s the number of potential customers rose but also the number of traders who had something to sell. In a presentation of companies in Malmö from 1923 we find that many of the groceries, butchers, bakeries, cafés and stores selling tobacco and cigarettes started their businesses between 1880 and the 1910s. A couple of companies were established as early as the 1860s.400 The number of retail stores increased from the end of the 19th century, especially the number of provision-dealers. Many of these dealers were women who owned or rented a small shop. From these provision-dealers the customers could buy groceries, home-baked bread, greengroceries and fast food like thick slices of bread with lard and occasionally a slice of American bacon.401 However, provision-dealers were forbidden to sell milk. The Public Health Act from 1897 provided that besides milk and cream no products other than bread and butter could be sold or stocked in the same store. Because of this restriction Malmö had no less than 335 milk and bread stores in 1907.402 As for the number of provision- dealers we find that in 1915 round about 500 provision-dealers were registered in Malmö. With a population of nearly 100,000, this means that every provision- ––––––––– 398 Bjurling, (1989), p. 147. 399 Bergman, (2003), pp. 57-58. Hirdman Yvonne, Magfrågan: Mat som mål och medel Stockholm 1870-1920, (1983), Rabén och Sjögren, Stockholm, pp. 145-172. 400 Sveriges Näringsliv: Malmö, (1923), Svenska Handels & Industriförlaget Malmö, pp. 22-101. 401 Bjurling Oscar, ”Handel och sjöfart i Malmö 1914-1939”, in Malmö stads historia, (1989), p. 466. 402 Bergman Arvid M., Förslag till mjölkhandelns ordnande i Malmö, på uppdrag af Helsovårds- nämnden utarbetat af Arvid M. Bergman, slakthusdirektör, August Fornmark, stadsläkare och Carl Hultman, ingenjör, mejerikonsulent, (1909), C. A. Andersson C:s. Malmö.

153 dealer catered for something like 200 inhabitants. Still, the First World War had involved a considerable increase in these kinds of shops, which means that the number must have been somewhat lower about the time when Solidar opened its first store in 1908.403 Co-operative ventures did indeed contribute to the expansion of stores and services in the retail trade in the second half of the 19th century and the early 20th century. However, before we look closer at these ventures we will acquaint ourselves with a business that because of its mode of expansion was possibly a difficult competitor to the early co-operative societies. In 1885 Ångköket, a public restaurant opened in Västergatan, that is, in the old parts of Malmö, only a stone’s throw from Stortorget and a short walking distance from the harbour. The opening of this restaurant, which during its first year of business served over 53,000 portions of food, was inspired by the success of similar kinds of restaurants in Germany. These restaurants were managed as a combination of business and charity. According to Folke Mellvig, it was a mixture of people, that is, people with different social positions that started Ång- köket. Their common interest was to provide healthy and tasty food at the lowest possible price. A dinner meal of soup with plenty of meat and potatoes cost 30 öre. Coffee and bread was sold for 12 öre and a beer for 6 öre. However, guests could not buy brännvin (spirits) in the restaurant.404 A male worker employed in a factory earned an average wage of 1 krona and 50 öre per day in the 1880s, possibly a little more in Malmö.405 This means that a supper at Ångköket could be had at a reasonable price and guests were also offered to visit a reading-room after dinner. At the beginning of the 20th century Ångköket, then a joint stock company called Ångköksaktiebolaget, had expanded into a big business managing a restaurant, a meat delicatessen factory, a laundry and a hotel. The business had then moved to Engelbrektsgatan near Gustav Adolfs torg. The hotel opened in 1902 and was called Temperance. The name reveals that guests should not expect to be able to drink any spirits in the restaurant. Additionally, guests were not expected or even allowed to give tips to waiters and hotel staff. The character of an inexpensive restaurant remained, although different sections with a first and a second class restaurant were introduced. One of the driving-forces behind this expansion of the business and its temperance character was the well-known chief executive of Skånska Cement AB, R. F. Berg. He was an influential man whom we will have reason to return to later on in the text. Only a few years after the ––––––––– 403 Häger Bengt Åke, ”I skuggan av världskrig och världskris” and Bjurling Oscar, ”Handel och sjö- fart i Malmö 1914-1939”, both in Malmö stads historia, (1989), pp. 251, 466. 404 Mellvig Folke, Industrikung och idealist: Boken om R.F. Berg, (1945), Malmö Bokhandel AB Förlag, Malmö, pp. 136-138. 405 For average wage of male worker in a factory in 1875 see Lagerqvist Lars O. and Nathorst-Böös Ernst, Vad kostade det? Priser och löner från medeltiden till våra dagar, (1984), LTs förlag, Stockholm, p. 99. According to an account about the conditions for workers in Malmö in the 1880’s this was a time when qualified employed workers earned a decent even good wage, but unemployed worker had a really difficult time. See Bjurling Oscar, ”Stad i utveckling 1870-1914”, in Malmö stads historia, (1985), pp.213-219.

154 hotel had opened the company made such a profit that Berg was troubled, since the purpose of the company was to work for the common good of all mankind. For a long time the board continued to invest in the company but eventually the shareholders also received a dividend on their shares.406 We will come back to the fate of Ångköksaktiebolaget, or rather the hotel and restaurant Temperance, in Part Four. The reason for presenting this company in this section is that it is an example of a business that, like co-operative societies, expanded the range of services offered, aimed to attract consumers with small or at least limited means, and tried to influence the habits of their customers/guests. The success of this business demonstrates that there was indeed a good customer potential in this segment, and it was these kinds of customers that the co- operative societies also wanted to attract, and to recruit as members. Let us therefore see how co-operative ventures developed in Malmö from the 1880s onwards. Some of the bakeries and grocery shops opened in Malmö at the end of the 19th century and at the beginning of the 20th century were owned by workers’ and consumer co-operative societies. Among these societies we find a number of bakery societies: Gjuteriarbetarnas i Malmö Bageriförening (The Bakery Society of the Foundry Workers) formed as early as 1870, Arbetareringens bagerifören- ing (The Workers’ Circle Bakery Society) formed in 1885, Malmö Fackförenin- gars Bageriförening (The Bakery Society of the Trade Unions in Malmö) that came into being 1887 and finally Arbetarnas vid Statens Järnvägars Verkstäder i Malmö Bageriförening (The Bakery Society of the Workers in the Workshops of the Swedish State Railways) that started up in 1888. These societies, called Kon- sumenternas produktionsföreningar (The Production Societies of the Consumers) in the official statistics, were probably a combination of consumer and workers’ societies. According to the information that the societies sent to Kungliga Social- styrelsen (The Royal Board of Health and Welfare) in 1909, it was only Arbe- tareringens bageriförening that sold bread to non-members.407 Hence, the other bakery societies most certainly only catered to specific groups, that is, the households of foundry workers, trade unionists and railroad workers. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries a number of consumer co-operative societies started businesses in Malmö. In 1898 Kooperativa Föreningen Pan was formed. The advocates of this society, Axel Danielsson and the manager Olof Pettersson, played important roles in the establishment of KF and the introduction of KF’s wholesale activities. The co-operative society Pan had a short, but in co-operative circles renowned history. As early as 1904 it went into liquidation, but in the following year some old members of Pan and other people interested in co-operation gathered to start a new society, a society that became known as ––––––––– 406 Mellvig, (1945), pp. 138-139, 165-167. 407 In the official statistics the following societies are listed under the heading "Tab. 4 (forts). Kon- sumenternas produktionsföreningar: Allmänna uppgifter år 1909", in Kooperativ verksamhet i Sve- rige åren 1908-1910 av K. Socialstyrelsen, Sveriges Officiella Statistik Socialstatistik, pp. 512-513. The information of the founding year for Arbetarnas vid Statens Järnvägars Verkstäder i Malmö Bageriförening is taken from Gruveman Carl, Solidar 25 år, Jubileumsskrift Kooperativa Före- ningen Solidar, 1908-1933, (1933), Propagandakommittén Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar.

155 Kooperativa Föreningen Seger (The Co-operative Society Victory). Seger opened its first premises at Amiralsgatan 21 and soon enough a second store at Skolgatan 45, both stores thus being established in the southern part of Malmö with mainly worker households. Seger started out selling groceries was soon expanded its range of products. Föreningen Malmö Kooperativa Köttaffären (The Co-operative Butcher Store in Malmö), which sold meat and meat products to its members and a workers’ co-operative shoe factory that produced and sold clogs were also established in the early 20th century.408 Finally we have a co-operative society that ran a restaurant and a café called Kooperativa Föreningen Egen Härd (The Family Hearth Co-operative) and that society was formed in 1907.409 Co-operative societies were not only formed in what was the city of Malmö at the beginning of the 20th century, but societies were also formed in communities and localities in the surrounding countryside. As described in Part One, factories were established in the centre of Malmö and on the south side of the canal. Along with the establishment of these factories came working-class housing. The working-class districts of Lugnet and Sofielund, both located south of the city centre, and Kirseberg east of the city centre were built between 1860 and 1880.410 In 1905 a consumer co-operative society was founded in Sofielund, a municipality south of Malmö, which was incorporated into the city in 1911. Worker households living in Lugnet and Sofielund could hence choose to join either Seger or Sofielundsarbetarnas handelsförening (The Trade Company of the workers of Sofielund) if they wished to shop along co-operative lines.411 Southwest of Malmö we find another business venture that eventually turned into a consumer co-operative society. The move of AB Skånska Cementgjuteri in 1890 to Limhamn implied a rise in working-class housing in the former fishing village. Besides working-class housing built by entrepreneurs, many workers in Limhamn also borrowed money from AB Skånska Cementjuteri and built their own houses. The chief executive of AB Skånska Cementjuteri, R. F. Berg, encouraged the workers to build their own houses, and possibly also their own store.412 A trading company mainly owned by the workers in Limhamn but also by AB Skånska Cementgjuteri was started in 1899. In 1922 the stores of this ––––––––– 408 See Elldin Harald, 50 år i samverkan Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, (1957), Malmö, and Gru- veman (1933). The founding years for Kooperativa Köttaffären and the workers’ co-operative shoe factory are unknown. It is only Seger that is included in the official statistics from K. Socialstyrel- sen, see “Tab. 1 (forts). Konsumtionsföreningar: Allmänna uppgifter år 1909. A Till Kooperativa förbundet anslutna föreningar.”, in Kooperativ verksamhet i Sverige åren 1908-1910 av K. Social- styrelsen, Sveriges Officiella Statistik Socialstatistik, pp. 200-201. 409 See ”Tab. 7. Kooperativa matslag och kaféföreningar: Allmänna uppgifter år 1908.”, in Koopera- tiv verksamhet i Sverige åren 1908-1910 av K. Socialstyrelsen, Sveriges Officiella Statistik Social- statistik, pp. 544-545. 410 Ranby, (1992), pp. 17-18. 411 Elldin, (1957), Chapter ”Före Solidar”. 412 In a letter to G. H. Von Koch the Chief Executive of AB Skånska Cementjuteri R. F. Berg wrote about his ideals about working-class housing. The letter demonstrates that he had been inspired by what he had seen in London. He thought that workers should have the possibility to live in a house they owned. In the letter Mr Berg also described the mortgage scheme that he and the company had introduced. A copy of R. F. Berg’s letter can be found in Limhamniana 1991, pp. 27.

156 company were taken over by a newly formed consumer co-operative society.413 Additional societies were formed in Lomma and Arlöv, in 1883 and in 1908.414 Coming this far in the account we have seen that there was a parallel development of markets, outdoor as well as indoor ones and stores selling different kinds of goods, to cater for the needs of the increasing population in Malmö at the end of the 19th century. Co-operatives societies were active in the process of expanding and transforming the retail market in Malmö and in the communities surrounding the city. The outline above has introduced us to the retail context within which Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar, founded in 1907, commenced its business. It is difficult to say if inhabitants in Malmö first recognised the new bakery society Solidar when they saw the confectionery shop in Möllevångstorget that opened in 1908, or from the delivery men that sold bread from carts in the streets. It is also possible that inhabitants, at least those who read the Social De- mocratic paper Arbetet, saw an appeal that the board of the society had inserted in the paper, urging “…all friends of co-operation to make their purchase of fancy bread, pastries, etc. at Solidar”.415 Accounts about Malmö round about the time when Solidar was founded state that these were difficult years for workers. As described in Section 6.1 in Part One, the first decade of the 20th century was turbulent with strikes and lockouts and much seasonal unemployment. Addition- ally, in 1909 Storstrejken (The Great Strike), a strike that spread throughout the country, took place. Considering that times were difficult and that many workers were apparently engaged in industrial disputes, it seems a little odd that a co- operative bakery society decided to sell fancy bread, biscuits and pastries, and that they urged people to demonstrate their support for co-operation by buying these products. However, Hirdman has demonstrated that many people of small means bought fancy bread as a tasty but insufficient alternative to more nutri- tious food.416 Furthermore, the fact that the other bakery societies baked bread and hard bread, and that the society at first could only rent a small bakery, motivated the society to start with this narrow Marie Antoinette-inspired selection of products. However, as early as 1909 Solidar started to produce white and dark bread and was granted the permission from the trade unions to continue to produce bread during Storstrejken. The condition for this permission was that the society provided striking workers with bread. Solidar’s production of bread increased considerably in 1909. In 1908 the turnover was 42,000 kronor, and in 1909 it had increased by three times. Solidar also received an extra contribution ––––––––– 413 Gruveman writes that a consumer co-operative society was started in Limhamn as early as 1889 but in Gerhard Larsson’s account of Limhamns Handels AB the store opened in 1899 and then was taken over by a newly formed consumer co-operative society in 1922. Larsson Gerhard, “Den gamla butiken”, Limhamniana 1970, p. 12. A more detailed account of the development of this company and later in the co-operative society is provided in Section 2.1, in this part. 414 Lomma Handels- och Bageriaktiebolag founded in 1883 in Lomma north of Malmö. Arlövs Ko- operativa Handelsförening founded in 1908. Gruveman, (1933), p. 49. See also Kooperativ verksamhet i Sverige åren 1908-1910 av Socialstyrelsen, Sveriges Officiella Statistik, Socialstatistik. 415 Protokoll styrelsen 18/3 1908, author’s translation. 416 Hirdman, (1983), pp.64, 78-83.

157 from the strike committee of 1,811 kronor and 47 öre for primary produce and wear on machines and carts, once the strike was over. This extra contribution was useful since the society had employed nine new workers in 1909 which meant that costs had increased considerably, and the working capital was low.417 Throughout the 1910s Solidar developed its bakery production and sold bread and fancy bread from its stores – in 1919 the society had five stores – and via its delivery men. In the 1920s Solidar widened its selection of products with, e.g. the sale of milk and meat products, However, since Solidar only sold bakery products for such a long period, 1907 to 1923, the board and management could focus on building up that service and improve it. Solidar’s greatest advantage in the competition with the other bakery societies was their open membership policy and the fact that the society sold bread to consumer co-operative societies, non-co-operative shops and non-members. Since it was not an exclusive society which served only a limited group of members Solidar gained a wide circle of customers, potentially also members of the other co-operative bakery societies.418 We have already seen that several co-operative societies had been established in Malmö and in the surrounding countryside when Solidar commenced its business. From our British case we learned that the relationship between co- operatives could be quite complex. What was the situation like in Malmö at the beginning of the 20th century? Gathering from the material I have studied the relationship between at least Solidar and Seger was based above all on co- operation. Many members of Seger were members of Solidar and vice versa.419 Membership in of both societies was of course necessary for anyone who wanted to buy both bread and groceries along co-operative lines. The fact that co- operative societies in Malmö, apart from the bakery societies, sold different kinds of products provided a base for co-operation between the different societies, or at least prevented competition between them. But like in Newcastle there were persons in Malmö engaged in co-operative ventures who thought that co- operation between societies was not enough. These co-operators worked for amalgamations and the creation of one strong co-operative society in Malmö. Studying the minutes from Seger we find that the first board of this society strove for co-operation with the other societies in the city. Sometimes their attempts for joint ventures were successful, and other times not. As early as 1905 when Seger was founded the board contacted Järnvägsmännens konsumtions- förening and Sofielunds Handelsförening and suggested that they buy goods together. These contacts led to a deal between Seger and Järnvägsmännens kon- ––––––––– 417 Elldin, (1957), year 1909. Gruveman, (1933), p. 22. For turnover figures see Revisionsberättelse Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidar 10 nov 1907 – 31 dec. 1908 and Revisionsberättelse Koop. Bageri- föreningen ”Solidars” u.p.a. i Malmö räkenskaper för år 1909, both in FKFS 1907-1940. See also Part Four, Section 3.1. 418 Regarding Solidar’s open membership policy see Section 2.2, in this part and Section 1.1, in Part Three. 419 A comment from a member about the distribution of Konsumentbladet, a Swedish co-operative paper reveal that the membership of Seger and Solidar more or less overlapped. Protokoll årsmöte Kooperativa Föreningen Seger 30/3 1923.

158 sumtionsförening to buy potatoes in bulk.420 However, when the board of Seger planned for expansion in 1907 these plans came to naught because Sofielunds Handelsförening had already established a branch in the designated street. At the same meeting where this setback was reported a member suggested that Seger should work for the amalgamation of the co-operative societies in the city. How- ever, the majority of the members present at the meeting supported co-operation between societies in Malmö, but not amalgamation.421 Little more than a month later the board of Seger received a circular from the chairman of KF’s district organisation in Skåne, encouraging the co-operative societies in Malmö to amalgamate. The board then appointed a committee that was instructed to contact the other societies and inquire about their attitude towards amalgamation.422 If it was this committee’s efforts that led to the amalgamation between Seger and Sofie- lunds Handelsförening in 1908 is, however, difficult to say.423 What we know is that these two societies traded in the same area and sold groceries, which means that it was two competitors that amalgamated. Seger constantly tried to expand the range of goods on offer in its stores. By 1908, that is, after the society had amalgamated with Sofielunds Handelsfören- ing, they traded in groceries, colonial goods, and coal. At a special general meeting in November 1915 the question whether Seger should take over Kooperativa Köttaffären (The Co-operative Butchery Store) was raised. Such a take-over would imply that Seger saved a co-operative business in Malmö and that the society would be able to offer its members a new service. However, it was a costly affair and therefore the board of Seger looked around for a partner. It was proposed that a representative from Seger should contact Solidar and suggest that the two societies take over Kooperativa Köttaffären together. Still, in the end nothing came of this suggested joint venture. At a board meeting in April the following year, the chairman of Seger announced that the society had taken over Koopera- tiva Köttaffären on its own.424 While Seger expanded its range of products and services in the 1910s Solidar continued to sell bread and other bakery products. As I have already suggested, it was most likely the fact that Seger and Solidar did not sell the same kind of products that made it possible for them to work side by side. However, Solidar’s expansion in services in the 1920s implied changes in the local ecology of co- operative societies, including the relationship between Solidar and Seger. We will come back to this new situation in a little while, but first we shall view the development of services in Solidar more closely.

––––––––– 420 Protokoll styrelsen Kooperativa Föreningen Seger 13/3 1907. 421 Protokoll extrastämma Kooperativa Föreningen Seger 22/5 1907. 422 Protokoll styrelsen Kooperativa Föreningen Seger 14/7 1907. 423 Elldin, (1957), Chapter ”Före Solidar”. 424 Protokoll extrastämma Kooperativa Föreningen Seger 9/11 1915. Protokoll styrelsemöte Koopera- tiva Föreningen Seger 3/4 1916.

159 Chart 4. Service development: Solidar 1907-1986

Number of services 0 1907 1915 1923 1931 1939 1947 1955 1963 1971 1979 1911 1919 1927 1935 1943 1951 1959 1967 1975 1983

YEAR Source chart 4: Source: Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1908 to 1923 Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar, Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1924 to 1952 Koopera- tiva Föreningen Solidar, Styrelsens, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser 1953 to 1955 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1956 to 1960 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1960 to 1986 Konsumentföreningen Solidar. Chart 4 illustrates the expansion in services that took place in Solidar from 1907 to 1986. What we see is a steady rise in number of services between 1923 and 1959, before that period the society was focused on developing services already introduced. In 1923 Solidar bought the share majority in Malmö Mejeri Aktiebo- lag (Malmö Dairy Joint Stock Company), and thereby gained control of 17 milk stores in Malmö.425 In the following year a meat product factory that Solidar’s board had initiated in 1922 started production and the society opened stores for the sale of meat and meat products, e.g. sausages. In connection with this expansion in services the society changed its name from Kooperativa Bageri Förenin- gen Solidar (The Co-operative Bakery Society Solidar) to Kooperativa Förenin- gen Solidar (The Co-operative Society Solidar).426 The expansion in services continued throughout the 1930s, 40s and 50s. In the 1960s it was the rationalisation of the store structure (see Chart 5 below) that engaged the board and management and the expansion in services ceased for nearly a decade. Comparing with the Newcastle Society where the significant increase in services took place between 1860 and 1914, we find that the period of significant increases for Solidar was between 1923 and 1959. These differences tell us something about when the major changes in the retail trade took place in New- castle and Malmö, respectively. It also reveals that that the expansion of services in Solidar was more concentrated in time than in Newcastle. How did this rapid ––––––––– 425 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1923, in FKFS 1907-1940. Utveckling i Solidar och dotterbolag 1908-1957, in Verksamhetsberättelser för år 1957, in FKFS 1950-1960. 426 Gruveman, (1933), pp. 34-35, 51.

160 expansion come about? How did it affect the relationship with other co-operative societies? And how significant was the development of Solidar for the development of the retail trade in Malmö? Let us start with the first question. A strategy that can be discerned in the material left to study involved that Solidar either bought the majority of shares in an already existing company or started a production company in order to provide a new service. We have already seen examples of this with the purchase of the share majority of Malmö Mejeri A.-B and the building-up of a meat factory. The board of Solidar explained the benefits of this strategy in the annual report for 1927. In the report it is stated that a price conflict at the beginning of the year had led to a drop in the price of milk. The result was a price that the producers could not live with and therefore a considerable rise in price followed. This, according to the board, affected the consumers in Malmö negatively. However, Solidar had been able to negotiate a price that both producers, that is the farmers, and consumers were pleased with. It was pointed out that because of that deal the price of milk in Malmö at the time was not higher than in smaller towns and the price of cream was even lower than in the smaller towns. This would not have been possible unless the society had owned the majority of shares in Malmö Mejeri A.-B.427 Besides the price of milk the board of Solidar also took note of the price on coal. In 1929 Solidar formed Aktiebolaget Kolkoks (Coalcoke Joint Stock Com- pany) in order to, as pointed out in the annual report, solve the coal question by challenging the coal trust in Malmö.428 Naturally, further in-depth studies of how the price of milk products and coal developed in Malmö before and after Solidar entered these sectors are needed to prove if the board’s assertions were correct or not. However, in the current context it is the strategy of expanding co-operative services that is our main interest. To be sure, it was not all introductions of new services that involved the take- over of a company or the build-up of a production company. New kinds of goods could be bought from wholesalers and above all from the KF wholesale. In 1929 Solidar opened two stores for the sale of household utensils.429 In this case Soli- dar could buy goods from one of KF’s twelve storages for dry goods, established in the 1920s.430 At the beginning of the 1930s, when the society wanted to introduce the sale of shoes, KF was even more involved. Solidar and KF managed together the co-operative shoe shops in Malmö as a joint venture.431 However, when Solidar decided in 1936 to invest both in the sale of clothes and shoes, the society took over the two shoe stores and one private men’s outfitter store called A.-B. Curtz Herrekipering.432 Hence, the tested method of connecting an already existing business with the society was obviously the favoured method of expansion, at least until the 1940s.

––––––––– 427 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1927, p. 10, in FKFS 1907-1940. 428 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1929, p. 10, in FKFS 1907-1940. 429 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1929, p. 8, in FKFS 1907-1940. 430 Kylebäck Hugo, Varuhandeln i Sverige under 1900-talet, (2004), BAS, Göteborg, p. 121. 431 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1931, p. 15, in FKFS 1907-1940. 432 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1936, pp. 17-18, in FKFS 1907-1940.

161 Solidar’s business development strategy implied that there was only a short span of time between a decision to start a new services and the possibility to provide a significant number of the members with this new services. In the annual report from 1936 we find that members in general and representatives on the member council in particular had asked for the sale of fresh fish. Following this request the board made a deal with the owner of a 50-year-old fish company in Malmö to start up a joint stock company, in which Solidar would own half of the shares.433 By 1937 members could buy fish from their society in two indoor markets, and seven stores.434 To be able to provide the members with a funeral furnishing service the board also had to seek partners. In 1946 the society formed Malmö Begravningsförening (Malmö Funeral Furnishing Society) in co- operation with a number of mutual sick and burial societies, these societies being Malmö Erkända Centralsjukkassa, Svenska Eldbegängelseföreningens Malmöavdelning and Malmö Centrala Begravningskassa.435 There are some further services worth mentioning and we will come back to them soon, but let us first consider how the fast and significant growth of Solidar affected the relationship between co-operatives in Malmö and the southwest of Skåne. In the case of the Newcastle Society we learned that both co-operation and competition with other consumer co-operative societies played an important part in the process of developing co-operative services. We have already seen that co- operative societies in Malmö, in the first and second decades of the 20th century, worked side by side. But we also learned that there were co-operators who thought that the situation with many different co-operative societies was intolerable, and worked for amalgamations. Additionally, we learned that KF via its district organisation promoted amalgamations and that this propaganda increased in the 1920s. However, even though there was a pressure from certain societies and individual co-operators and a support for amalgamations from the federal level, the negotiations before any major amalgamations took place were difficult and took a long time.436 As early as 1913 Solidar initiated negotiations with, above all, the other bakery societies for a possible amalgamation. But the societies could not agree and in the accounts from Solidar it is pointed out that it was the other societies that made unreasonable demands. Exactly what these unreasonable demands involved is, however, not noted. Clearly, it was Solidar that was most interested in ––––––––– 433 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1936, p. 17, in FKFS 1907-1940. 434 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1937, pp. 13-15, in FKFS 1907-1940. 435 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1946, p. 33, in FKFS 1941-1949. 436 As for pressure and support from the federal level we find that as early as 1901 the secretary of KF G. H. von Koch expressed his disapproval of a ”principvidrig” (principally adverse) competition that existed between co-operative in some cities. In 1908 KF decided that no new consumer co- operative societies would be granted membership in KF if they were established in cities where there already was a consumer co-operative society that was a member in KF established. In Stockholm KF and prominent co-operators worked for amalgamations between the societies in Stockholm throughout the 1910’s. In the 1920’s KF started to work for amalgamations nationally. Ruin, (1960), pp. 30-31.

162 an amalgamation and in addition to contacting the bakery societies Solidar also turned to some of the consumer co-operative societies. Seger and Järnvägsmän- nens konsumtionsförening agreed, in principle, that the societies should join forces, but still no amalgamations took place in 1913.437 After the first negotiations had broken down in 1913 it seems as if during the following ten years Solidar sandwiched discussions about amalgamations with intensified competition, thereby demonstrating its prominent position in Malmö. By July 1913 a committee appointed to study Solidar’s system of distribution suggested that the society should sell more bread directly to members and customers and not as much to other co-operatives and non-co-operative retailers. The suggestion was supported and accepted by the board.438 Although the decision did not affect the immediate trading practice of the society, the board’s approval demonstrates a wish to develop the retail side of the business just as much as the production side.439 At the end of the same year Solidar decided to open a store in the eastern part of Malmö. When this decision became known in co- operative circles, representatives from the consumer co-operative societies protested. These representatives pointed out that Solidar ought to have officially asked the boards of the consumer co-operative societies, not only individual members of these boards or managers, for permission. Still the representatives pointed out that, even though Solidar had not acted in a correct manner, they did not protest against the opening of the new store, only against the procedure.440 As long as Solidar expanded its bakery business it was really only the other bakery societies that could feel threatened by this expansion. However, as we saw in Section 1.1, the adoption of new rules in 1920 implied that Solidar became a consumer co-operative society. As such Solidar could use the capital resources built up through its production of bread to buy and start up new kinds of production units. These changes naturally tipped the balance between Solidar and the other consumer co-operative societies in Malmö. However, it did not lead to fierce competition, instead it seems to have facilitated an amalgamation process. In 1922 Solidar and Seger appointed a joint propaganda and education committee and at the end of 1925 Solidar, Seger, Konsumtionsföreningen Limhamn and Rosengårds Andelsförening decided to join forces under the name of Koop- erativa Föreningen Solidar.441 It was four strong societies that came together. Seger and Limhamn had built up or by other means acquired significant store structures and a capital base. Rosengårds Andelsförening had been formed only ––––––––– 437 Gruveman, (1933), pp. 37-39. 438 Protokoll styrelsen 30 juli 1913. 439 It would take some time before Solidar sold more bread directly to customers in their stores or via the delivery men than they sold to other retailers. The proportion of bread sold in the stores of Soli- dar in 1916 is included as an example in this section below. 440 Protokoll styrelserna för Solidar, Seger och Järnvägspersonalens konsumtionsförening, söndag 11/10 1913. 441 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1925, pp. 5-6, in FKFS 1907-1940. Gruveman, (1933), p. 40. For a more detailed account the joint education and propaganda committee of Seger and Solidar see Part Three, Section 5.2.

163 in 1918 and moved into proper premises in 1923, but had a surplus of 5,000 the year the amalgamation took place.442 With the amalgamation in 1925 the number of stores of Solidar increased considerably, as is demonstrated in Chart 5 below. The 35 “new” stores of Solidar were grocery and provision stores, so the amalgamation implied an expansion of the services Solidar offered its members. Once this big consumer co-operative society had been formed it was divided into districts. This district division was above all motivated by the introduction of a new and more stratified democratic representative system, as is described in Part Three. However, it also had an effect on the store structure, since each district became a unit for store and service expansion. In Chapter Two the development of services and stores in one district is presented in more detail and in Part Four we will view the relation between demands mediated at district meetings and the development of services and stores in the different districts. In 1928 Solidar became the second largest consumer co-operative society in Sweden, only second to Kooperativa Föreningen Stockholm.443 The society continued to grow and naturally the incorporation of companies to provide new services was an important contributing factor to the growth. However, successive amalgamations with societies in the countryside surrounding Malmö were also essential for this expansion. Between 1930 and 1986 nineteen societies amalgamated with or transferred their business operations to Solidar (see Figure 4 in the middle of the book). This process of amalgamation was supported by KF at least as long as co-operation between Solidar and KF was good. In the 1960s, when some leaders at KF saw that the stronger regional societies could be a threat to KF as organisers of propaganda and education and as wholesalers, the attitude towards the regional concentration of societies changed and the ideas of one single Swedish co-operative society was introduced.444 Comparing with the New- castle Society Solidar successively expanded its trading area and incorporated the potential co-operative competition into the business organisation of the society. This means that indications of trade boundary conflicts rarely turn up, at least not in the minutes from members meetings. However, there are examples of neighbour societies intruding on Solidar’s trading area. At a district meeting in 1958 one member pointed out the absurdity in that a mobile store from the consumer co-operative society in Svedala sold goods in the proximity of Anderslöv, that is, in Solidar’s trading area.445 Having come this far we have seen that Solidar as a business grew considerably from the 1920s to the 1950s. For other retailers in the city this expansion of a co-operative business into new sectors and districts of the city must have been a bit frightening. To find out whether this was the case it is relevant to ask: How significant was the development of Solidar for the development of the retail trade in Malmö? To be sure, it is rather difficult to describe how competition in the re- ––––––––– 442 Gruveman, (1933), 45-47. 443 Elldin, (1957), year 1928. 444 See Hwang, (1995), pp. 29-32 about how KF initiated and supported amalgamations during the 1920’s and 1930’s. The scepticism towards the stronger regional societies see p. 58. 445 See Protokoll distrikt Anderslöv 25/3 1958.

164 tail sector developed in Malmö throughout the 20th century, because of the lack of comprehensive studies on the subject. The following outline from the 1920s to the 1970s will therefore be incomplete, not only because of the necessity to keep the account short, but also because the retail sector in Malmö has not been examined to any considerable extent by other scholars. Still, the city history of Malmö published in seven volumes and the presentation of the business life in Malmö from 1923, referred to above, provide us with both detailed and more general information about the retail sector in Malmö. The literature about the local scene is also supplemented with literature on how the retail trade developed in other parts of Sweden and on the aggregate level. As a producer and distributor of bread, selling much of its bread to other retail stores Solidar was before the 1920s more of a producer than a retailer. Even though the board took the decision in 1913 to sell more of its products to members and customers directly, we find that in 1916 only 30 per cent of the turnover came from the sale of bakery products in the society’s own stores.446 However, expanding its services naturally meant competition with retailers in the new sectors. By adding milk and meat products to its selection of goods, Solidar had to compete with the many milk and bread stores in Malmö, with the butcher stores and with the ambulant butchers selling meat and meat products in the market places. In 1923 there were at least six large companies in the butchery trade in Malmö and all of these companies had more than one store in the city.447 This means that Solidar was not the only business that had several butcher stores in the city, so in this branch they competed with a number of local multiples. In the case of milk, Solidar’s purchase of an existing company with 17 stores and an existing customer base implied that the society did not start from scratch, which in turn means that it gained a prominent position in this branch from the start. Entering the men’s wear and drapery sector in the 1930s Solidar ended up in competition with established firms in Malmö that served customers from all social groups. Round about thirty men’s outfitters were established in Malmö in 1930 and a couple of these companies had established branches in the city. Ohls- sons was one of those companies with two stores, one more exclusive at the corner of Stortorget and Södergatan, and one less so in Södra Förstadsgatan. In the store in Södra Förstadsgatan, the street connecting the southern part of Malmö with the centre, the same costumes could be bought as in the more exclusive store, but for a smaller sum of money. The majority of retailers selling clothes and shoes had stores along Södra Förstadsgatan and Östra Förstadsgatan. Those established along the latter street sold the cheaper products.448 Solidar opened its first men’s outfitter in Östra Förstadsgatan when it took over A.-B. Curtz Herre- kipering in 1936. By selling good quality clothes, on which members received a dividend, in that street, Solidar offered customers in the eastern part of Malmö something extra.449 Exactly what this implied as far as competition with other re- ––––––––– 446 See Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1916, p. 5, in FKFS 1907-1940. 447 Sveriges Näringsliv: Malmö, (1923), pp. 40-59. 448 Bjurling, (1989), p. 475. 449 Elldin, (1957) year 1936.

165 tailers was concerned is difficult to say, but what it demonstrates is that the society entered a branch with tough competition and that it chose to do so in the part of the city where the more inexpensive goods were sold. For a map of the expanded centre of Malmö in 1931 see Figure 5 in the middle of the book. The number of yarn, woven fabric, tricot and haberdasher’s shops were about hundred in Malmö, which indicates that many women knitted, sewed and mended their own clothes or had them made by a dressmaker.450 This does not mean that there were no stores selling ladies clothing and accessories. Far from it, thirty-one stores selling such goods are presented in the booklet from 1923. Many of these companies had started out as wholesalers, but by 1923 some of these businesses had developed into local multiples, and at least one of the companies was a bazaar, Göta-Bazaren.451 Solidar was comparatively late, in comparison both with the Newcastle Society and with other large co-operative societies in Swe- den, in offering its female members the possibility to buy clothes and accessories. It was first in 1946 that Solidar supplemented its three stores selling men’s wear with a shop selling ladies clothing in Föreningsgatan.452 And it was only when Solidar opened its department store in 1958 that the society made a major effort to compete in this sector. But before we consider the establishment of department stores in Malmö we shall view how the multiple stores and multiple department stores developed in Sweden as a whole. Bosse Bergman’s description of how multiple stores developed in Stockholm in the 1930s corresponds with what I have been able to find out about the situation in Malmö, namely that it was local companies that opened branches in the city and nearby communities. The few national multiples active in this decade were either owned by a production company that sold the products the production company produced or by retailers selling one particular product. However, there were three upstarts; Resia, Epa and Tempo, all of them chain department stores with a bazaar character. These chain department stores established branches in the cities and major towns of Sweden in the 1930s and 1940s. How- ever, if we consider the food sector, we find that the consumer co-operative societies and KF held the undisputed top position in the 1930s with over one third of the market shares in the food sector. The other actors in the food sector were generally independent traders with one or a number of stores.453 However, this composition of the food sector was about to change.

––––––––– 450 Bjurling, (1989), pp. 475-476. 451 Sveriges Näringsliv: Malmö, (1923), pp.169-210. 452 There is a photo from the first shop of Solidar selling ladies clothing in Förvaltnings- och Revi- sionsberätteler för år 1946, p. 36. in FKFS 1941-1949. But the store is listed in the shop register first in the annual report from 1947 see Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberätteler för år 1947, p. 57, in FKFS 1941-1949. To be true Solidar had incorporated a drapery store at Lommavägen in Arlöv in its store structure as early as 1931 when the consumer co-operative societies in Arlöv and Åkarp amalgamated with Solidar. However, this store was moved to Lundavägen in 1933 and became a mixed shop with drapery and hardware articles. Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1931, p. 11, in FKFS 1907-1940. For the account about the move of this store and some members reactions on this see Part Four, Section 3.1. 453 Bergman, (2003), pp. 79-80.

166 Both frightened and inspired by the rapid expansion of the consumer co- operative societies and KF during the First World War, the businessman Hakon Swenson encouraged independent retailers to invest in a joint wholesale company. In 1917 AB Hakon Swenson commenced its business in Gävle, a coastal city in the middle of Sweden. The registered office eventually ended up in Västerås, and branches in two other cities were also established. Having ridden out the depression in the early 1920s more independent traders promised to give the company their trade and the company grew. AB Hakon Swenson soon enough became the largest private wholesaler in Sweden.454 Other private wholesalers with ambitions to grow big were established in the 1920s and 1930s. In 1938 AB Hakon Swenson, Eol, and NS, decided to join forces in the sense that they coordinated their purchases through a company they were all shareholders in. This company was called Inköpscentralernas AB, ICA AB for short. In 1940 the same wholesalers formed a union called ICA- förbundet, the purpose of which was to join forces also when it came to advertising and to form a forum for long-term business development. As part of its advertising ICA förbundet published cook books and a paper called ICA- Kuri- ren.455 No doubt the initiators of both Inköpscentralernas AB and ICA-förbundet were inspired by the way the consumer co-operative societies had built up their federal organisation. ICA challenged the co-operative societies and KF by the same means as the Consumer Co-operative movement had developed and been so successful with in the 1920s and 1930s. To what extent independent shopkeepers in Malmö promised their trade to ICA I have been unable to examine. Nevertheless, considering how the situation developed nationally it was only in the 1960s and 1970s that retail traders who had joined ICA could put up a united front and challenge the co-operative stores.456 In addition to ICA a wholesale for retailers selling colonial goods was formed in 1937. This company, called AB Svenska Kolonialvarugrossister, could, however, never challenge KF on its own. It was not until the beginning of the 1970s, when companies engaged in running department stores bought part of this wholesale group, that a third major player in the Swedish retail sector entered the scene.457 Hence, KF and the co-operative societies met with more organised competition in the food sector after 1945, but it would take another couple of decades before these competitors could really challenge the co-operative stores. After the Second World War had ended, business developers in the retail sector anticipated that more people would go out to eat. ICA therefore started up restaurants, mainly canteens for employees at different workplaces.458 Returning to Malmö, we find that Solidar opened its first restaurant as early as 1940. In 1954 the society had seven restaurants and in the same year the restaurant at Bergsgatan was converted into a self-service restaurant. In the annual report it ––––––––– 454 Kylebäck, (2004), pp. 54-57. 455 Kylebäck, (2004), pp. 114-115. 456 Kylebäck, (2004), pp. 172-176, 214-215. 457 Kylebäck, (2004), pp. 115-118, 458 Kylebäck, (2004), p. 170.

167 was pointed out that this new service method implied that guests got their food quicker and could enjoy it in peace and quiet in the fresh and modern restaurants.459 Thus as far as establishing restaurants goes Solidar was early out. How- ever, in comparison with the Newcastle Society and other consumer co- operatives in Sweden, Solidar was late when it came to the building and opening of a department store. Compared with the situation in Newcastle, where Bainbridge had been established as early as the 1830s and Fenwick introduced the Bon Marché department store at the beginning of the 20th century, the only department store in Malmö in the early 1920s was rather moderate. In the booklet presenting companies in Malmö in 1923, A-B Th. Wessel & Vett is presented as the largest department store in the south of Sweden, but it is doubtful whether it could really be defined as a department store at the time.460 Still A-B Th. Wessel & Vett expanded and in the 1930s this local department store was supplemented with the multiple department stores of Epa and Tempo.461 The first Epa and Tempo stores in Malmö were established in Södergatan, the more exclusive shopping street between Stortorget and Gustav Adolfs torg. In this street with specialist stores, exclusive cafés and Wessel’s department store, these new bazaar department stores with their new sale techniques must have been an odd element. Instead of hearing the question “what do you wish to buy” from a shopping assistant behind a counter, the customers in Epa and Tempo were invited through the shopping window to “come and purchase”, and they could pick and choose from all the goods on display. On the opening day of Epa in Malmö in 1934 long queues built up outside the store, for apparently consumers in Malmö were curious to see what this new store offered.462 As pointed out above, Solidar started to sell household utensils in 1929. Suc- cessively, the society opened more stores where hardware and household utensils were sold, and in 1949 a large special store for the sale of furniture was opened in the old hussar regiment in Malmö.463 At the beginning of the 1950s the society had four stores selling household utensils, two hardware stores, one furniture store, three men’s outfitters, one store selling ladies clothing and four shoe shops,

––––––––– 459 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1940, p. 28, in FKFS 1907-1940. Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1954, p. 2, in FKFS 1950-1960. 460 Sveriges Näringsliv: Malmö, (1923), 169-171. The definition of a department store is discussed by Orsi Husz in her study of ’what dreams are made of’ including a study of the first and largest department store NK in Stockholm. According to Husz’ defenition it is doubtful if A-B Th. Wessel &Vett can count as a department store in the 1920’s. It would be more correct to call it a bazaar in the process of developing into a department store. See Husz Orsi, Drömmars värde: Varuhus och lotteri i svensk konsumtionskultur 1897-1939, (2004), Gidlunds Förlag, Hedemora, pp. 47-49. 461 Kylebäck, (2004), p. 120. 462 For accounts of how Epa and Tempo was established in Malmö see Bjurling, (1989), p. 511. Bjur- ling Oscar, ”Handel och sjöfart under ett halvsekel”, in Malmö stads historia, (1992), p. 171. For a description and discussion what the introduction of Epa and Tempo implied in terms of new sale techniques see Bergman, (2003), pp. 87-92. 463 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1949, p. 32, in FKFS 1941-1949.

168 all these being spread out all over Malmö.464 In the same year the board announced that it had applied for permission to build a Domus, i.e. a co-operative department store.465 However, it was not until 1958 that the society opened a department store at Södra Förstadsgatan 49, a Domus to where the sale of all dry goods was concentrated. In the department store there was also a food hall, a restaurant, a café, and a car park and, in addition, an office, a storage, and 75 apart- ments.466 Domus at Föreningsgatan 49 certainly became a notable department store in Malmö. A woman ranking the department stores in Malmö in the 1960s, said that in her family Domus was the finest store, EPA the worst and Tempo ended up in between. NK, established in 1963, was of course the finest of them all but nobody in her family ever shopped there.467 In an advertisement in the annual report from 1959, Solidar presents it newest addition as a department store with a particular aim. That aim was to serve members as customers in the best possible way; to give customers more for their money, and to offer all kinds of goods they might need under one roof. Still, when Domus opened in 1958, Epa and Tempo had already attracted customers to its department stores during more than two decades. Even in a co-operative context the opening of a Domus in Malmö was relatively late. Some societies had established department stores as early as the end of the 1920s and in the 1930s. By 1945 there were eight co-operative department stores in Sweden. In the 1950s KF became a driving force in the establishment of department stores and by 1960 there were 68 Domus department stores established in Sweden.468 Hence, it was the push from KF and the establishment of Svenska Varuhusföreningen (The Swedish Department Store Soci- ety) in the middle of the 1950s that facilitated the opening of department stores. In some cases KF indirectly gained control of department stores in cities and towns where the economy of the local society was weak.469 Solidar had control of Domus and by way of amalgamations the society eventually acquired control of as many as sixteen department stores in 1970.470 We have now seen that Solidar faced tough competition in Malmö when it came to the sale of special goods, i.e. clothes, shoes and furniture. However, in comparison with the Newcastle Society the competition was generally local and when it became national, with the opening of Epa and Tempo KF backed up the local societies. International competition has only recently, that is in the late 1990s, entered the retail scene of Malmö and Sweden. But what about the significance of Solidar for the development of the food trade in Malmö?

––––––––– 464 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1950, pp. 56-60, in FKFS 1950-1960. One of the hardware stores was located in Höllviken, a community some 20 kilometers south of Malmö. 465 See Part Four, Section 3.2. 466 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1958, pp. 20-21, in FKFS 1950-1960. 467 Fredriksson Cecilia, Ett paradis för alla: EPA mellan folkhem och förförelse, (1998), Nordiska museets förlag, Stockholm, p. 230. 468 Kylebäck, (2004), pp. 122, 154. 469 Kylebäck, (1983), pp. 108-115. 470 Verksamheten 1970 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 6.

169 After the Second World War and parallel with the development of restaurants and department stores Solidar continued to develop its food stores. The most noticeable change in the development of the food trade was the conversion into self-service stores. In the trading area of Solidar the introduction of self-service coincided with a drastic rationalisation of the store structure, notably a very different development from what we saw in Newcastle. Chart 5 below demonstrates the very drastic development of the store structure of Solidar. Chart 5. Store development: Solidar 1907-1986

500

400

300

200

100

Number of Stores 0 1907 1915 1923 1931 1939 1947 1955 1963 1971 1979 1911 1919 1927 1935 1943 1951 1959 1967 1975 1983

Year Source chart 5: Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1908 to 1923 Kooperativa Bageri- föreningen Solidar, Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1924 to 1952 Kooperativa Fö- reningen Solidar, Styrelsens, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser 1953 to 1955 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1956 to 1960 Kooperativa Fö- reningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1960 to 1986 Konsumentföreningen Solidar. Comparing the development of the Newcastle Society stores (Chart 3) with the development of the Solidar store structure illustrated in Chart 5, it is interesting to note that the building up of Solidar’s structure of 459 stores only took little more than twenty years. In the case of the Newcastle Society it took a hundred years before the building up of stores reached the peak of 233, and that did not happen until 1960. To be sure, in 1953 Solidar’s trading area stretched far beyond the city boundaries of Malmö and the 459 stores were not all established in the city. However, about 380 of them were.471 The strategy of taking over existing companies, some with several stores already established, the amalgamations and the expansive policy of the board of Solidar resulted in a considerable expansion of stores from 1923 to 1953. The steep curve in Chart 5 from 1953 to 1970 reveals that the rationalisation of the store structure, including stores from ––––––––– 471 In the list over store locations in 1953 we find that 389 were established in the districts S:t Petri, Slottsstaden, S:t Pauli, Kirseberg, S:t Johannes, Limhamn, V- Skrävlinge, Möllevången, and Fosie. Styrelsen, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser för år 1955, pp. 33-38, in FKFS 1950-1960.

170 societies Solidar had amalgamated with, took no longer than it took to build it up. And, as already stated, this rationalisation coincided with the conversion into self-service. This entailed that the many separate milk and bread stores, groceries and provision stores, etc. came together under one roof and customers were obliged to pick the goods from the shelves themselves, and then pay at the cash- point. In 1955 when the first co-op self-service store opened in Newcastle, Soli- dar had already 25 self-service stores and one self-service bus.472 In 1962 the Newcastle Society had 21 self-service shops while Solidar had 91.473 In 1969 Solidar ran self-service stores only while the Newcastle Society was still modernising old stores when they joined the NECS in 1970.474 Throughout the period of rationalisation no less than eight societies in Skåne amalgamated with Solidar, which means that what we see in Chart 5 was a much more dramatic rationalisation than the chart illustrates. Thus, we find a considerable difference in how the two societies developed in the 1960s, at least as far as the modernisation of the store structure was concerned. Engaged in the costly process of converting several small stores into new self- service stores Solidar faced a new competitor, a competitor with low costs and a potential for rapid expansion. In the middle of the 1950s samköpsföreningar (bulk purchase associations/clubs) cropped up. This was a national phenomenon and representatives of the “old” consumer co-operative societies and KF defined these new ventures as non-co-operative, since they lacked co-operative principles and did not invest in the business for the future. This type of competition resulted in a debate about what was real co-operation and what was not.475 Samköpsföreningar at work places and an increasing number of shopping trips to Denmark in the late 1950s meant troublesome competition for Solidar. To meet this competition and members’ demands Solidar introduced a discount store called Centralköp. This was a store in the centre of Malmö that offered members a 10-per-cent discount directly but no dividend on their purchases in that store.476 If samköpsföreningarna and the much discussed Danmarksresorna (shopping journeys to Denmark) were linked is difficult to tell on the basis of what can be found in the minutes from Solidar’s member meetings. What is obvious is that the shopping trips to Denmark increased towards the end of the 1950s. In 1959 a manager explained that these trips had had an effect on the sales of Solidar, and with an indirect reference to samköpsföreningarna he also blamed the setbacks for Solidar on consumers’ lack of knowledge about co-

––––––––– 472 Styrelsen, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser för år 1955, Kooperativa Föreningen Soli- dar, in Förvaltningsberättelser 1950-1960 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, p. 6. 473 Minutes of the Quarterly Meeting 25th April 1962, in 1127/29 Members Quarterly Meetings, A.G.M and Special Meeting minute book, 30 July 1952 – 25 March 1970. Verksamhet 1962 Kon- sumentföreningen Solidar, p. 14. 474 See Verksamheten 1969 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 2. Jim Lamb who was a director on the board of the Newcastle Society when that society joint the NECS in 1970 has confirmed this. 475 Svensson Harry, Samköpsföreningarnas verksamhet, Särtryck ur Pris och Kartellfrågor Nr 4/1960. 476 Protokoll distrikt Möllevången 5/4 1956 and Protokoll personaldistriktet 1 April 1957. See also Part Four, Sections 3.2 and 3.3.

171 operation.477 However, the society eventually came to grips with at least sam- köpsföreningarna. In 1961 a manager, Mr Karlström, said at a district meeting that “Inköpsföreningen” (The Bulk Purchase Society) was no longer as successful as it had been a couple of years ago.478 The continual rationalisation of Solidar’s stores in the 1960s meant, besides the conversion into self-service, that the society closed smaller stores and opened bigger stores.479 In the annual report from 1970 the store structure in 1960 and 1970 is compared; 485 smaller stores and 3 department stores in 1960 had ten years later changed to 116 small stores and 16 department stores.480 But Solidar was not the only retailer that rationalised, the whole the store structure in Malmö changed radically in the 1960s. However, it seems as if Solidar was the most progressive retailer when it came to the conversion into self-service. In 1970, when all of Solidar’s stores were self-service stores, one third of all traders in Malmö still had shop assistants in the store to serve customers.481 The drastic rationalisation of stores that Chart 5 reveals was at times too drastic and led to miscalculations. At the beginning of the 1970s it was decided that 16 shops in the east end of Malmö – all shops that relatively recently had been converted into self-service shops – should be closed and replaced by one large food hall. The management of Solidar had taken into account the City Council’s new plans for traffic in the area and the new food hall would be easy for customers to reach by car. As it happened, the council’s plans came to nothing and Soli- dar’s new store ended up in a periphery area passed by the traffic, and the members in the eastern part of Malmö lost many of their stores because of this miscalculation.482 Adjustments to a car society were thus another factor that mattered when the Solidar rationalised its store structure. In 1971 the society opened its first out-of-town hypermarket in Burlöv.483 It was then only 40 years since the co-operative society in Burlöv amalgamated with Solidar and added a couple of small stores to the growing business organisation of Solidar. However, when it came to open a hypermarket Solidar was not the pioneer, Wessels had established a hypermarket at Jägresro as early as 1962.484 The establishment of a hypermarket in Burlöv end this account of how co-operative retail services developed in Malmö and the southwest of Skåne from the end of the 19th century to 1970. With the information that this account has provided we can now compare the development of the co-operative retail services in Newcastle and Malmö. The successive development of services in Newcastle was nearly matched by Solidar in numbers, even though it took until 1923 before that development took off. However, while the Newcastle Society initiated services from scratch, on its ––––––––– 477 Protokoll Östra Grevie söndag 6/4 1957. Protokoll distrikt Fosie 27/3 1959. 478 Protokoll Östra Grevie 9/4 1961. 479 Verksamhetsberättelse 1967 KONSUM DOMUS Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 4. 480 Verksamheten 1970 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 6. 481 Bjurling, (1994), p. 186. 482 In the jubilee history from 1982 this move was admitted as a mistake. Nilsson Frans, Gemenskap: En krönika om Solidar under 75 år, (1982), Konsumentföreningen Solidar, Malmö, p. 82. 483 Verksamheten 1971 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 9. 484 Ambrius Jonny, Ung i Malmö 1950-1979, (2003), Sportförlaget i Europa AB, p. 92.

172 own or in co-operation with other co-operatives, Solidar often bought the share majority in an exiting joint stock company. This strategy of Solidar implied that members in, if not all districts then at least several, could benefit from the introduction immediately, the infrastructure of stores was already there and a working distribution system. Looking at the development of store structure in general Chart 3 and Chart 5 clearly demonstrate a significant difference between the two cases. The fact that self-service was introduced earlier in Solidar and coincided with major rationalisations of the store structure gave the drastic development illustrated in Chart 5. Adding to this expansion and rationalisation of stores we have the 22 societies that amalgamated with Solidar to consider. The Newcastle Society was more or less hemmed in by its neighbour societies and competition between co-operative societies on Tyneside was at times extremely tough. In Malmö co-operative societies were surely competitors for members in the end of the 19th century and in the beginning of the 20th century, however, in some cases there was no need to compete for members. Selling different products a handful of co-operative societies complemented each other and co-operated rather than competed, two of those societies were Solidar and Seger. In 1925 three societies, one of them Seger, joined Solidar. This amalgamation implied a expansion of Solidar’s trading area, however, not beyond the city boundaries of Malmö. It was first in the 1930s that societies in communities outside Malmö joined and the transformation from a city society to a regional society began. Co-operation between co-operative societies in the south-west of Sweden most often ended in amalgamations thus creating different conditions for service and store expansion than in our British case. The Newcastle Society no doubt used service diversification as a method to attract and retain customers. The board of this society also agreed already in the end of the 1860s on a policy for expansion of stores that implied an establishment of stores in areas where members lived. Being restricted to the city and eventually the area of the registered district of Newcastle the web of branches became increasingly dense. The development of Solidar in terms of service and store expansion up until the beginning of the 1950s do not differ that much from that of the Newcastle Society. However, the 1950s and 1960s brought a change in strategy and we will see in the parts to come what made this change possible and the effects it had. But before we examine how the democratic organisation and the financial conditions developed, we shall step into the stores and explore what shopping at the Co-op implied as far as trading practices and traditions are concerned. This allows us a change of perspective, from a bird’s eye view to the view of the shopping member, and paves the way for an understanding of people’s everyday interaction with their society.

2. Shopping at the Co-op Was shopping in a co-operative store a different experience than shopping in a non-co-operative store? This question has lingered at the back of my mind throughout the process of research. This is also the question that Victoria Kelly asks

173 in her study of the Manchester and Salford Co-operative Society. She concludes that the actual shopping experience could not have been very different from that in a non-co-operative multiple apart from the sale of CWS products and the co- operative messages that these products communicated. But she adds that the social and educational activities that the co-operative societies arranged added to the experience of being a member in a consumer co-operative society.485 Kelly’s is an excellent study, but her focus on design and commercials implies that she does not study the practice of co-operative trading or even the social and educational activities that she claims set the Co-op apart. In this chapter we will focus on the practice of shopping at the Co-op. The social and educational activities are briefly introduced but presented in more detail in Part Three. To study the practice of co-operative trading is not that easy. Sources that tell us something about the situation then and there are often of an ideal and propa- gandistic character. Instructions to the staff of how they should behave tell us something about ideals.486 Members’ complaints and further recommendations from the management of the society reveal that not all shop assistants preformed according to the ideals.487 Pictures showing the exterior and interior of shops and plans tell us something about the changes in the shops when they were converted into self-service units (see picture 6, 7, and 8 in the middle of the book). These pictures in general show stores without customers and staff, but with some exceptions these pictures tell us little about the practice of shopping, so in order to get some action we have to turn to films. The British co-operative films have been collected and catalogued and form an impressive collection. In the introduction to The British Co-operative Movement Film Catalogue Alan Burton divides these films into three categories: films for publicity, for propaganda, and for education. In the films for publicity we find scenes showing shop assistants and customers in action. In the educational films we find examples of how the shop assistants were taught to act.488 No similar collection of co-operative films exists in Sweden. Films produced by KF or by the individual co-operative societies have not been catalogued. But in 1933 Solidar produced a film to celebrate the 25th jubilee of the society and some reels of film have been saved in the archive of Solidar. One of the films shows all the different business operations of the society and other activities, like member meetings. But it also shows customers shopping in the stores of Solidar.489 Still, we need more information to under-

––––––––– 485 Kelly, (1995). 486 “Varje biträde bör komma ihåg”, Malmö mars 1928, folio Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar i Malmö, in Kooperativa Förbundets Arkiv. 487 In October 1928 a circular was sent to all shop assistants in Solidar. It was explained that a customer had complained about the treatment he received when he was shopping in Solidar’s store in Vikingagatan. Only a few days later another circular is sent to the shop assistants giving them detailed instruction as to how they ought to serve customers. See Cikulär “Till samtliga Solidars biträ- den”, 31 oktober 1928, and Cirkulär ”Till Biträdena vid Solidar”, 1 november 1928, both in folio Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar i Malmö, in Kooperativa Förbundets Arkiv. 488 The British Co-operative Movement Film Catalogued, (1997). 489 Both the original films and video copies can be found in Solidar’s archive. But copies of the films are also archived with Auto Image AB in Malmö.

174 stand what shopping at the Co-op involved as far as trading practice is concerned. To find such information we have to turn to the minutes from member meetings and board meetings. In these and other materials like quarterly and annual reports we find information about new systems for registering members’ purchases for the payment of dividends on purchases, clubs, hire purchase etc., information that tells us something about the practice of shopping at the Co-op. Shopping at the Co-op also implied a different experience for different generations of members. Before we step into the stores and learn about the rights and duties of members and the development of different means to pay for the goods bought, we shall view the changes in service and stores from a generational and from a district and branch perspective. In this way we will come somewhat closer to the perspective of the shopping members on the development of co-operative services in the Newcastle Society and Solidar.

2.1 Co-operative retail services from generation, branch and district perspectives When we study the development of the two societies in hindsight through jubilee histories or annual reports we see something that the individual members did not experience in their everyday contact with their society. Some members who were more keen meeting-goers than others might have kept a check on the general development of the society. And members who went to social evenings and to picture and films shows, like those arranged by Solidar’s propagandakommittee (propaganda committee) from the middle of the 1920s to the 1950s, saw skioptikonbilder (slides), and from the 1930s films, demonstrating all the activities of the society. Members in study groups and in the guilds visited new stores, factories and warehouses of the societies of KF and CWS, and therefore knew a little more.490 Still, most members viewed and perhaps also judged the development of their society through the development of the branch(es) in their part of Newcastle or in the case of Solidar from the development of the store(s) in their district. ––––––––– 490 In the jubilee history and in minutes from Solidar’s propagandakommittee there is lots of information about the slide (skioptikonbilder) and film shows for members and potential members. Though there is also information about outings where the stores and factories were visited. See Larsson Jo- han, ”Studieverksamheten inom Malmökooperationen under 30 år”, in Kooperativa Föreningen So- lidars studieverksamhet 30 år, (1952), Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, pp. 25, 28. The films made in connection with the 25th Jubilee is also archived in the archive of Solidar together with two wooden boxes with slide (skioptikonbilder) showing the stores and factories of the Society. See also “Avskrift Till Styrelserna för kooperativa föreningen ”Solidar” & ”Seger”, Malmö i april 1925 Kooperativa agitationskommittén”, in Map Protokoll & Rapporter från Propagandakommittén 1924-1946, in Solidar archive. In the source material left from the Newcastle Society we find less information about such things as social evenings and propaganda meetings arranged by the society, however, the minutes from the central branch of the Women’s Co-operative Guild in Newcastle indicate that the Newcastle Society tried to inform members of their activities through outings and lectures. See An outing to the federal Co-operative Laundries, the Newcastle Society was one of the major shareholders in this laundry. Minutes 16th October 1922. Minute Book Women’s Co- operative Guild Central Branch, Newcastle upon Tyne, October 3rd 1921 – August 18th 1924. See also Part Three Chapter 5. The Co-operative Forums in Newcastle and Malmö.

175 Additionally the experience of shopping at the Co-op was not the same from one generation to the next. In this section we shall examine the development of co- operative services from a generation, branch and dirstict perspective. The two districts in focus are Old Benwell Village and Benwell in the West End of New- castle and Limhamn in the southwest of Malmö. What Benwell and Limhamn have in common is that they were communities which from the 1860s to the beginning of the 20th century were influenced by the expansion of industrial production, and communities which eventually became incorporated into Newcastle and Malmö, respectively. As explained above, the industrialisation of Newcastle implied that newly built working-class housing spread out in the west and east ends of the city. In the second half of the 19th century this housing development connected Old Benwell Village, a colliery village, two miles west of the city centre of Newcas- tle, with the city.491 In the case of Limhamn it was the establishment of Skånska Cement AB in the late 1880s that turned an old fishing village into an industrial community. The establishment of this industry implied that the communications with Malmö improved, and eventually the farmland between Malmö and Lim- hamn was populated with a mix of houses built by workers and districts for the better-off people who had moved out from the city to live in a house with a garden.492 The account of the developments in Benwell is generally based on interviews with Mrs Peggy Middleton, Mrs Margaret Tweedy and Mrs Susan Brown, grandmother, mother and daughter who have all lived their whole life in this part of Newcastle. In Limhamn we have no personal guides but have to draw on information from local history accounts, annual reports and minutes from Solidar. Still, the generational perspective that Mrs Middleton’s, Mrs Tweedy’s and Mrs Brown’s accounts provides can serve as a structure for the account of co- operative services in Limhamn too. We begin this history in Benwell. When Mrs Peggy Middleton, née Waugh, was a young child in the 1910s and lived in Old Benwell Village, her mother shopped at the Co-op but, as Mrs Mid- dleton remembers, it was not in a co-op shop of the Newcastle Society. When Mrs Middleton was five, the Newcastle Society had been in existence for 57 years and it had some 20 branches, two of them in the newly built parts of Ben- well but none in Old Benwell Village.493 Nevertheless, Mrs Waugh was a member of the Blaydon Society. That society had established stores on the north side of the Tyne. Mrs Waugh probably shopped in the co-op stores in Lemington and Scotswood village, two branches of the Blaydon Society or in the central store in Blaydon. Mrs Middleton remembers walking with her mother over the Scots-

––––––––– 491 Newcastle’s Changing Map, (1992), pp. 40-43. 492 Malmös kartor: Från 1500-talet till idag, (2003), pp. 150-151, 156-157.162-163. 493 In 1885 the Newcastle Society had established a store in South Benwell and 13 year latter a branch was established at Benwell High Cross, in north Benwell. See Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services, (1951), ”Record of Branch Development” in-between pp. 30 and 31.

176 wood Bridge to collect the dividend and she connects this walk with getting something new, e.g. new shoes.494 Mrs Middleton also remembers the shops and other businesses in the area where she lived as a child. She recalls a number of different kinds of shops in Benwell Lane and down Delaval Road, an area that changed much when working-class housing was built on a large scale. Along Delaval Road there was a fruit shop, a butcher’s, a fish shop, a cobbler’s, a bakery and in the same house a post office, a grocer’s at the corner and then a barber and a sweets and dry goods store in Benwell Lane. Between the barber and the sweets and dry goods store there was a stretch of spare land and it was on this spare land that the Newcastle Society built a branch store in 1926. The Newcastle Society eventually also took over the grocery and the butcher stores in Delaval Road.495 Mrs Middleton’s rec- ollection demonstrates that the establishment of a co-operative branch in a district meant tough competition for the independent shopkeepers in that district. We will come back to Benwell and to Mrs Middleton as a wife and manager of a household. But first we shall look at the development of stores and co- operation in Limhamn. In 1899 a bakery and trading company opened a store there. In the shop of this company the worker’s families and other inhabitants in the community could purchase goods at reasonable prices. Whether they received a divided or not is difficult to say. Limhamns Handels- och bageri AB cannot be found in the official statistics of co-operatives, which means that it was not officially classified as a co-operative. It was registered as a trading company and workers in Limhamn owned 90 per cent of the shares in this company .496 The company started up on the initiative of the chief engineer at Skånska Cement AB, R. F. Berg, and it is likely that he or Skånska Cement AB owned 10 per cent of the shares.497 The store of Limhamns Handels- och bageri AB was a village store selling all the kinds of goods that the inhabitants in Limahmn might want to buy. Besides the bakery there was a coffee-roaster, and a coal yard. In the store all kinds of groceries and provisions could be bought including butter, smoked and salted meat, cheese and bread. Additionally, drapery goods and household utensils were sold in the store.498 The company expanded and in 1919 one branch store was opened in another part of Limhamn.499 In 1922 Limhamns Handels- och bageri AB was taken over by a newly formed consumer co-operative society called Limhamns konsumtionsförening. It is difficult to say exactly what this change from a company to a co-operative entailed. As far as services were concerned that take-over did not involve any major changes; a real change in services only ––––––––– 494 Interview Mrs Peggy Middleton 14 March 2001. 495 Interview Mrs Peggy Middleton 14 March 2001. 496 Larsson (1970), p. 12. No information of Limhamns Handels- och Bageri AB can be found in the official statistics on co-operatives see Koperativ verksamhet i Sverige åren 1908-1910 av Socialsty- relsen, Sveriges Officiella Statistik. 497 Gruveman, (1933), p. 46. 498 Larsson, (1970), pp. 12-13. 499 Pictures of two of Limhamns Handels- och Bageri AB stores see Malmö stads historia, femte delen 1914-1939, Stadsfullmäktige I Malmö, Malmö, pp. 468, 506.

177 took place when Limhamns konsumtionsförening amalgamated with Solidar in 1925.500 Back in Benwell we find that Mrs Middleton has married and moved into a Tyneside flat in Delaval Road. Living in Delaval Road and bringing up a family in the late 1930s and in the 1940s she did most of her shopping in the Delaval Road Branch of the Newcastle Society and consequently became a member of that society. In this branch at the top of the street there was a grocery and provision department, a greengrocery department and a butcher department. Hence, Mrs Middleton had the stores within walking distance that sold most of the everyday goods the family needed. As for milk the Newcastle Society had a delivery service. If the Middletons wished to buy bread and cakes, drapery goods, shoes and boots or if anyone in the family needed medicine they only had to walk about ten to fifteen minutes east along Benwell Lane before they came to Ade- laide Terrace where the Benwell High Cross Branch was situated. For hats, caps, furniture and hardware, jewellery and a cup of tea in the society’s café, the family had to take the tram or one of the new motorbuses into the department store in Newgate Street.501 At the Benwell High Cross Branch there were not only shops and a chemistry, but there was also a meeting-room for the use of the guild branch in the area and for the childrens’ groups called pathfinders. As a child, Mrs Margaret Tweedy, Mrs Middleton’s first born, did not join a pathfinder group. But one of Mrs Tweedy’s schoolmates and friends, Mrs Eileen MacKinnon, née Forster, remembers that when she was 11 years old, she was taken by her mother, a keen member of the central branch of the Women’s Co-operative Guild, to the Benwell High Cross Branch. Inside the branch at the bottom of the stairs a guild friend of her mothers, Mrs Doris Starkey, took young Eileen by the hand and said in a strong high-pitch voice, “Come along dear…”. Walking up those stairs Mrs MacKinnon entered into a life-long relation with the Co-operative movement, but that is another story which we will come back to in Part Three.502 Not joining a pathfinder group did not mean that Miss Middleton only knew of the Co-op as a customer buying goods for her mother. As a young woman, Miss Middleton got a job in the office of the CWS branch in Blandford Square. The big combined office and warehouse building, only a five minutes’ walk west from Newgate Street, was a bustling place to work in. Goods produced in the CWS factories, some of which were located in communities round Newcastle, were delivered in the big inner yard of the building, registered, reloaded and sent out to the stores of the many consumer co-operative societies in the region.503 ––––––––– 500 Gruveman, (1933), p.46. 501 The information about the different departments at the Delaval Road Branch, the Benwell High Cross Branch and the Central Premises is taken from the Trade Account 6th September 1941 The Newcastle Co-operative Society Ltd. Trams had been trafficking the West End since the beginning of the 20th Century and was successively exchanged for electric trolleybuses in the 1930’s and then defiantly by motorbuses in the 1940’s. On March 4th 1950 the last trams travelled through the streets of Newcastle. Hanson Noel, “Getting About”, in Water under the Bridges…(1999), pp. 56-59. 502 Interview Mrs Eileen MacKinnon 8 Sept 1998. 503 Interview Mrs Margaret Tweedy 14 March 2001.

178 In Limhamn there were no large co-operative warehouses, but in 1925 when the local co-operative society amalgamated with Solidar the members living in Limhamn experienced a considerable expansion of co-operative stores. Before the amalgamation there were three co-operative shops in the community, two years after the amalgamation with Solidar the members living in Limhamn and in the south-west of Malmö could shop in no less than 13 co-operative shops. There were five grocery stores, one butcher store and seven milk and bread stores.504 In comparison with the situation in the 1910s the inhabitants in Lim- hamn had lost a store where they could buy most things that they needed. But on the plus side they had gained several specialist stores in different locations and as members of Solidar they could shop in all the stores of the society in Malmö and receive a dividend on their purchases. Having become members of a larger society with more resources than the Limhamn Society had had, the members who wished could take part in or start up social and educational activities.505 However, if and how members in Lim- hamn learned about the activities on offer is difficult to say. If they read the annual reports they could from 1926 learn about the activities that the propaganda committee of Solidar arranged. From the report of that year we also learn that a propaganda meeting for co-operation with 400 participants had taken place in Limhamn, so perhaps people going to this meeting were informed about the possibilities of a membership in Solidar.506 No propaganda meetings for co-operation were held in Benwell in the 1950s. The Co-op had then been around for such a long time and a third generation of co-operators shopped in the stores in the area. In 1957 young Miss Middleton got married and as Mrs Tweedy she eventually found herself managing a family of four. Moving to a Tyneside flat in Shafto Street her nearest co-op store became the Armstrong Road Branch of the Newcastle Society. In this branch she could buy groceries, meat, bread and fruit. Besides this she did not live far from the branches in Pretoria Street and Frobury Road. It was in one of these three branches she did her daily shopping. On Saturdays she visited her mother for lunch, and after lunch they walked to the Benwell High Cross Branch to shop.507 By this time, that is in the end of the 1950s the Newcastle Society had started to convert their stores into self-service stores. Alterations of the branch at Benwell High Cross started at the end of 1959 and were finished four years later.508 Hence, at the beginning of the 1960s Mrs Tweedy could go weekend shopping in her local co-operative self-service store. However, it was also in this decade that

––––––––– 504 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1927, pp. 6-7, in FKFS 1907-1940, pp. 6-7. 505 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidars studieverksamhet 25 år, (1947), p. 14. 506 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelse för år 1926, p. 3, in FKFS 1907-1940. 507 Interview Mrs Margaret Tweedy 14 March 2001. 508 “Benwell High Cross – Preliminary Plans had been prepared for major alterations and this shop would be on Self Service Line.” Minutes 394th Quarterly General Meeting 28th October 1959. “[Changes at] Benwell High Cross was almost completed.” Minutes Half Yearly General Meeting 30th January 1963.

179 the Tweedys bought a car, which increased their possibilities for going shopping elsewhere.509 As described in Part One Section 6.1. it was in the 1960s that Mr T. Dan Smith and his colleagues in the City Council’s planning office initiated the building of a city fit for cars. Included in the re-generation plans were the clearance of slums and the building of new indoor shopping centres like the Eldon Square in the centre of Newcastle and shopping precincts in the city districts. Growing up in Benwell in the 1960s and 1970s as Mrs Tweedy’s two children, Andrew born 1963 and Susan born 1967 did, involved seeing shops in the neighbourhood closing down. This in itself was no new phenomenon, however, this time it was not due to the establishment of a co-op branch in the area, as when Andrew’s and Susan’s grandmother was young. The new shops that opened in the 1960s and 1970s were instead concentrated to the new shopping precincts. Returning to Limhamn and the 1940s, we find that the inhabitants of Lim- hamn became the first members of Solidar who could shop in a self-service store. The first self-service store of Solidar, and most likely the first one in Malmö, opened in Älggatan in 1949. Stepping into this store, the first customer, a dressed-up housewife with her two children, received a bunch of flowers from the hands of the chief executive Mr Gustafsson.510 Shopping in this new kind of store involved new practices and induced customers to new purchasing habits, but looking around in the district of Limhamn we see that there were still 33 stores in which customers were served by shop assistants. There were seven grocery and provision stores, four butcher shops, one hardware store, one kiosk, twelve milk stores, three fish stores, one restaurant, one shoe shop, and one men’s outfitter.511 The conversion of old stores into self-services stores in Lim- hamn in the 1950s did not imply any drastic decrease in stores. In 1959 there were still 27 stores in the district, four of which were self-service stores. A new addition in the area was a smaller Domus department store. Still, the comments from members at the district meeting in Limhamn in 1961 reveal that the members experienced the conversion into self-service as rather drastic.512 Back in Benwell and in the 1980s we find that Susan Brown, Mrs Tweedy’s daughter, unlike her great grandmother, grandmother and mother did not join the Co-op when she married. The Newcastle Society was no more since it had joined the NECS regional society in 1970. Going shopping Mrs Brown took the car and offered her mother and grandmother to come along and shop in the hypermarkets in the outskirts of Newcastle. Having joined the National Guild of Co-operators Mrs Middleton and Mrs Tweedy knew of the benefits of co-operation, and when her daughter was going to buy a three-piece suite Mrs Tweedy told her about a special offer she could benefit from if she became a member of the NECS. And

––––––––– 509 Interview Mrs Margaret Tweedy 14 March 2001. 510 Picture in Elldin, (1957), year 1949. In 1946 Konsumentföreningen Stockholm, the Consumer Co- operative Society in Stockholm converted their store in Odengatan to Sweden’s first self-service store. See Bergman, (2003), p. 128. 511 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1949, pp. 27, 56-57, in FKFS 1941-1949. 512 See Part Four, Sections 3.1 and 3.2.

180 so the fourth generation joined the Co-op. But there were no longer any co- operative stores in the Benwell area, hardly any in the West End, but for the store in Westgate Road in Denton west of Benwell, not far from Old Benwell Village, where Mrs Brown’s grandmother had grown up.513 If Mrs Tweedy and her daughter today drive over the New Scotswood Bridge, built in 1967, they do not go to Blaydon to get the dividend but visit the Metro Centre, one of Britain’s largest shopping centres. And perhaps Mrs Brown’s two children connect this visit with getting something new and/or visiting the fun-fair in this centre where most of the chain stores of today are established, but no co- op shop. If the two children visiting the first self-service store in Älggatan with their mother in 1949 joined Solidar when they married and got their own households we do not know. The account of shopping at the Co-op in Limhamn has not revealed if and how membership in Solidar was handed down from one generation to the other. But members in Limhamn who formed families in the late 1960s and in the 1970s experienced the drastic rationalisation of stores presented in section 1.2 above. If the grandchildren of the housewife who was the first customer in the new self-service store in Älggatan came along to shop with their parents, it was probably on weekends going to one of Solidar’s smaller Domus department stores or to the new hypermarket, called OBS, in Burlöv. This does not mean that Limhamn lost all its co-op shops. Today there are still three Coop Konsum stores in Solidar’s old district of Limhamn but they are now run by KF. The account from Benwell and Limhamn illustrates that shopping at the Co- op involved new experiences for four generations of co-operators in Benwell and three generations in Limhamn. During the better part of the 20th century the stores of the Newcastle Society and Solidar formed important elements in the districts where they were established. However, each new generation met a new store and in some cases a new style of shopping. With this perspective in mind we will now step into the stores to learn a little more about how the practice of shopping changed in the period examined. The following two sections add to our knowledge of the experience of shopping at the Co-op. Moreover, they provide us with useful information about the members’ economic participation and about the relation between the economy of the societies and the economy of the member households.

2.2 Members’ rights and duties related to the practice of shopping at the Co-op Initially only members could shop in the stores of the Newcastle Society or benefit from the deals that the society made with other shops i.e. butcher shops before the society opened such stores. The legislative framework that co-operative societies registered under during the first part of 19th century prohibited trade with non-members. This condition changed with the amendments of the Industrial and Provident Societies Act in the second half of the century. The question of trade ––––––––– 513 Interview Mrs Susan Brown, 29 May 2001.

181 with non-members was linked with the question of taxation. In 1880 it was decided that only societies with an open membership policy would be exempted from income tax on the profit earned. But it was only on the surplus generated through trade with members that the societies were exempted from paying tax, whereas profits made on trade with non-members were taxed.514 This meant that there was no advantage for the co-operative societies in trading with non- members. Did the Newcastle Society trade with non-members? At a quarterly meeting in January 1865 it was resolved that checks could be issued to non-members. But this decision was rescinded at the quarterly meeting in April and it was pointed out that it “…was doing no good towards ensuing a public trade and…it was not in non-conformity [sic!] with the Rule bearing upon the division of Profits”.515 Since the first rules of the Newcastle Society that I have found date from 1905 it is difficult to find out when the restriction on selling to non-members disappeared. In the rules from 1905 there are no restrictions against trade with non- members. However, the question whether the society should or should not encourage trade with non-members was on the agenda at the beginning of the 1870s. At a special intermediate meeting, probably called by the committee, it was discussed if non-members should receive half a dividend on their purchases. However, Mr Millburn proposed and another member seconded a motion that no dividend be paid to non-members, and this motion was carried.516 From this vote we learn that members did not wish to use half a dividend as a means to attract non-members to trade with the society and possibly apply for membership. Even though the restriction on trade with non-members was gone it is still very likely that the majority of customers in the stores of the Newcastle Society were members. G. H. D. Cole has suggested that trade with non-members was small since it was usually more beneficial for customers shopping in co-op shops to become members.517 In 1919 it was estimated that less than 2 per cent of the British co-operatives’ business was with non-members.518 This means that in the 20th century it was the motives and benefits of the shoppers and no legal restrictions that decided the amount of trade with non-members. What about the situation in Sweden and Solidar? The statistics from Kungliga Socialstyrelsen on co-operatives inform us that in 1909 Solidar did not sell bread to non-members.519 But at a special meeting of shareholders in 1910 one member asked the board if the right to buy bread from Solidar should not be restricted to members. Mr Pettersson, the chairman of the society, answered that the number of members was not enough and that the soci-

––––––––– 514 See Cole, (1947), pp. 114-123. Gosden, (1973), pp. 190-195. 515 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 25th April 1865. 516 Minutes Special Intermediate Meeting, 17th September 1873. 517 Cole, (1947), p. 122. 518 Furlough and Strikwerda, in Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999), p. 29. 519 “Tab. 4 (forts). Konsumenternas produktionsföreningar: Allmänna uppgifter år 1909”, in Koope- rativ verksamhet i Sverige åren 1908-1910 av K. Socialstyrelsen, Sveriges Officiella Statistik Soci- alstatistik, pp. 512-513.

182 ety should continue to sell bread to non-members as well as members.520 This means that in 1910 Solidar sold goods to non-members as a means of recruiting new members. From September 1920 non-members who bought bread from So- lidar’s deliverymen or in the stores of Solidar could save their receipts for a year and at the end of that year hand in the receipts and receive a dividend provided that they joined Solidar.521 How widespread this method of recruiting members or how efficient it was is not possible to find out from the source material I have examined. It was through membership in a co-operative society that shopping at the Co- op became an experience that differed from that of shopping in other stores. That is not to say that all non-co-operative stores served their customers in the same way but in this text we are focusing on what was typical co-operative practices. The first thing that set the co-operative stores apart from other stores was that people had to pay an entrance fee and buy a certain minimum number of shares if they wanted to join. In the Newcastle Society the entrance fee was one shilling and the minimum number of shares 3 £1 shares in 1905 and the minimum number of shares was not changed in the period examined.522 When the board in an attempt to recruit more members arranged one Free Admission Week in April 1914, a number of members got upset and protested. They thought the terms should be equal to all members in the society and that those who had joined during the Free Admission Week should pay their entrance fee like everybody else. However, this motion did not get the support of the majority of members at the quarterly meeting and was therefore defeated.523 The question about free admission came up again in 1918 and the chairman reminded the members that they had approved of admitting new members free of charge when they endorsed the revised rules in December 1915.524 Anyone who wanted to join Solidar in 1908 had to write to the board to apply for membership and immediately pay for one share to the value of five kronor.525 To join Solidar in 1910 a person only had to pay part of the first share and then the rest of the amount before the end of the year. However, in order to receive the whole dividend on purchase members had to pay the full amount of shares required, that is, two 10-kronor shares. This rule was prescribed in KF’s model rules.526 From 1916 to 1925 the total number of shares for a member in Solidar ––––––––– 520 Protokoll Solidars extrastämma Söndagen 4 december 1910. 521 See Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid ordinarie halvårsstämma i Malmö den 29 Aug. 1920 med Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidar u.p.a. i Malmö, attached to Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn. Diverse Handlingar. 522 See Proposed Rules 1904-1905 in 120/106. Rules of the Newcastle Upon Tyne Co-operative Soci- ety 1968. 523 Minutes 212nd Quarterly General Meeting 29th April 1914. 524 Minutes 227th Quarterly General Meeting 30th January 1918. 525 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet (1908), in Malmö- husläns landskanslisarkiv Anmälningar till föreningsregister 1908 in EVIII f:17. 526 It was at the Co-operative Congress in 1908 that it was resolved that members' share capital should be 20 kronor before they receive any dividend on their purchases. Tronêt Bertil, Kooperativt kapital. Konsumentkooperativa finansieringsformer och finansieringsproblem 1946-1978, (1979), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm, p. 15.

183 was five 10-kronor shares, between 1925 and 1967 it was twenty 10-kronor shares and from 1967 to 1970 the amount was ten 10-kronor shares. The shares could be paid for in instalments. After having paid for a certain number of shares, between 1916 and 1970 it was two shares, members received half of their dividend and the other half was used to pay the next instalment. In the rules from 1970 we find that all ten 10-kronor shares had to be paid before any dividend was received.527 These restrictions on the payment of dividend were laid down to ensure that members paid the minimum number of shares required. The instalment system made it possible for all who wished to join the society to do so but it took some time before they obtained the benefit of receiving the yearly dividend in ready money. In 1925 a female worker had to work about 60 days to earn 200 kronor and a male worker about 38 days to earn the same.528 People joining Solidar who did not have the capital to pay the minimum amount of shares directly and had to use the instalment system thus entered a saving system. Seen from a member household perspective this could of course have been attractive. However, it also means that the dividend on purchase could not function as an immediate attractor unless those joining could pay the full amount of shares required immediately. Members of Solidar received their dividend once a year, generally after the annual society meeting at the end of April. Members had to hand in their receipts to the society and on a particular day queue in or outside the registered office to collect their dividend. From 1926 the newly built registered office became the regular place for collecting the dividend, but additional rooms were hired if needed.529 In connection with the distribution of dividend it happened that the propaganda committee took a chance to spread information. .In 1937, for example, they distributed a propaganda pamphlet called Ett ord med på vägen (A word to take along) to the members in the long queues.530 The practice of collecting the dividend at the registered office ended in 1949, and from that year on the dividend was sent to the members’ home address in- ––––––––– 527 See suggestion for new rules Protokoll ordinarie halvårsstämma 29/8 1920. At a special member meeting where the rules are accepted without changes. Protokoll extra stämma 30 december 1920. See also Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1916, Stadgar för Ko- operativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1925, Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1932, Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1952 and Stadgar Konsumentföreningen Solidar 1970. Verksamhetsberättelsen 1967 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 9. 528 Examples on wages and hours worked per week from 1900: A femal worker in the tobacco industry earned 11 öre per hour and worked 58 ½ hours per week. A male worker in the metal industry earned 63 öre per week and worked 61,3 hours per week. To earn 50 kronor a female worker in the tobacco industry had to work for some 450 hours and a male worker in the metal industry had to work some 80 hours to earn the same. In 1925 a female worker, no profession specified, earned 3 kronor and 51 öre per day and a male worker, no profession specified, earned 5 kronor and 23 öre. In Lagerqvist and Nathorst-Böös, (1984), pp. 101, 104. 529 The board decided that the dividend for 1926 should be paid to the members at the beginning of May. This would be done mainly in the new registered office buildning but if this was not possible rooms would be rented in the Peoples' House. Protokoll fört vid möte med styrelsen för Koop För Solidar i Malmö, måndagen 11/4 1927. 530 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1937, p. 8, in FKFS 1907-1940.

184 stead.531 At the meeting where it was decided that the old method of distributing dividend be discontinued and post office cheques be sent out to the members instead, it was discussed if this did not mean that an element of co-operative culture would disappear as well. Mr Malmquist, the accountant, who presented the new system at the board meeting pointed out that the change would perhaps en- tail increasing costs unless the methods of writing cheques could be made more efficient. It would unfortunately also mean that one contact opportunity between society and members disappeared. However, there were members who had expressed their problems of coming to the registered office to collect the dividend, and office employees had pointed out the problems with members coming to the office months after the official day for the collection of the dividend on purchases. The board decided to introduce the new system arguing that this system would save time for both members and office employees.532 As pointed out, the dividend on purchase was received yearly by the members in Solidar and during long periods the dividend percentage did not change. This made it easy for the member households to calculate how much dividend they would get back on their purchases. The members could keep a check since they themselves saved their receipts and sent then to the registered office. The fact that the dividend was fixed for long periods and did not directly reflect the trading result of the society had partly to do with agreements between co-operative societies to keep a similar level of dividend on purchases so as not to compete with each other in this respect.533 From 1914 to 1938 the dividend on purchase was fixed at 5 per cent. In 1938 a differentiated dividend was introduced with 5 per cent on some goods and 3 per cent on others. This situation with a differentiated dividend lasted until 1940, when a new fixed dividend of 4 per cent for all goods was introduced. In 1953 the rate was reduced to 3 per cent and this rate lasted to 1970, when it was raised to 3.5 per cent. Only a year later it dropped to 2 per cent. In 1976 the rate dropped to 1 per cent, in the following year to 0.7 per cent, and in 1978 the practice to give a dividend on purchases was discontinued.534 In the Newcastle Society the dividend was paid out once every quarter between 1860 and 1961. In July 1961 an amendment in the rules resulted in a half- yearly dividend.535 Members in this society also collected their dividend at the registered office in Newcastle and the members were divided into groups depending on their pass book number, so that not all members would come and col-

––––––––– 531 Elldin, (1957), year 1948. 532 Protokoll styrelsemöte 1 oktober 1948. 533 In 1942 a decision was taken at the Skåne district meeting between societies in Skåne to stabilise the level of dividend to 3 per cent. See Protokoll styrelsemöte 17 augusti 1942. But as the text above shows Solidar did not follow this decision. See also Part Four Section 3.3. 534 See FKFS 1907-1940, FKFS 1941-1949, FKFS 1950-1960, Verksamheten 1970 Konsumentföre- ningen Solidar, Konsum Solidar 1976, Vår Verksamhet 1977 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, Vår Verksamhet 1978. 535 Minutes of Special General Meeting of Members, held in the City Hall, on the 26th July, 1961.

185 lect their dividend at the same time.536 The members in Newcastle received a full dividend only after having paid up the minimum number of £1 shares. However, exceptions were made in case of emergency when members were in bad need of money.537 In comparison with Solidar the cost of the minimum amount of share was less in the Newcastle Society. Male workers in the trades of building, engineering, shipbuilding, printing and furnishing in Newcastle in 1908 earned between 19 shillings and 40 shillings per week.538 In 1908 the minimum number of shares in the Newcastle Society was three £1 shares. Since 20 shillings make a pound three to six weeks’ wages sufficed for paying the full amount of shares. However, the weekly wage should cover many different costs, which means that most members probably used the first dividends on purchase to pay the minimum number of shares. The dividend percentage on purchases in the Newcastle Society could vary from quarter to quarter and the board insisted that it should be decided in relation to the net profit of the society, while some members had other ideas and the dividend level was a recurrent subject for debate at member meetings.539 From a member perspective the dividend can be seen as a means of saving money or as an unnecessary practice keeping prices up. From a pedagogic and propaganda perspective the dividend was a proof that the society was not making money on members’ purchases but paying back the part of the profit that was not used for investments in the co-operative businesses. In the co-operative propaganda dividend on purchase was used as a means of recruitment. And in Solidar we find the most elaborated scheme using the dividend as an attractor. As explained above, non-members who shopped in the stores of Solidar could keep their receipts and at the end of the year send then to the registered office and receive a dividend if they applied for membership and paid for the minimum number of shares.540 Still, as stated above, it is difficult to say whether it was the dividend that attracted many new members. Looking at the account from Solidar we find that from 1927 there is an entry accounting for the sums that had not been paid out in dividend on purchases. According to the chief executive it was customers that had not applied for membership and some retailers selling products produced by ––––––––– 536 At the back page of quarterly reports members were informed of when they could collect their dividend. 537 Mrs Hall, member nr. 150, asking for 10/-, because she was in great need of money, Minutes Committee Meeting, Monday 9th February 1863. Mr Penman, member number 128, applied to have one pound paid to him out of his dividend, he being in need of money. This was granted and Mr Penman agreed to refund the amount in a week or two. The chairman informed him that it was against the Rule to pay money to members who had not their share paid up except in cases of emergency, Minutes Committee Meeting Monday 4th May 1863. 538 For information about what male workers in the trades mentioned in Newcastle earned see Cost of Living of the Working Classes Report of an Enquiry by the Board of Trade into Working Class rent, housing and Retail Prices, (1908). 539 See Part Four, Section 3.3. 540 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a., Malmö, 1925. Stadgar för Kooperativa Fö- reningen Solidar u.p.a., Malmö 1937. Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u.p.a., Malmö, 1952. Stadgar Konsumentföreningen Solidar 1970.

186 Solidar that refrained from handing in their receipts.541 In 1927 some 1,500,000 kronor out of a turnover of a little over 8,000,000 kronor was deduced from the dividend on purchases, due to members or non-members not having handed in their receipts.542 Ten years later the turnover was 20,500,000 kronor and 2,500,000 kronor was deduced from the sum due to lack of receipts.543 In 1947 the sums were presented in a somewhat different way. The turnover that year was nearly 56,000,000 kronor and the dividend percentage on purchases that year was 4 per cent, which means that if all receipts had been handed in, Solidar would have paid a little over 2,000,000 kronor in dividends on purchases. They ended up paying a little less than 2,000,000 kronor.544 We will return to the question about the attraction of the dividend in Part Four when we view the members’ opinions on prices and dividends. The procedures of the dividend system implied that the shop assistants in the stores had to deal with checks (Newcastle) and receipts (Malmö) extra carefully. In Solidar the shop assistants had a heavy responsibility to always be very observant and make sure that they had given the customer their receipt. This was pointed out in the instructions to staff and if mistakes were made the shop assistant could receive some sort of punishment for not having offered the customer a receipt, e.g. two days off without wages.545 If one compares the systems established to handle the registration of dividend in the two societies, the Newcastle Society had a longer running-in period than Solidar. In the 1880s members shopping in the co-operative stores in Newcastle first received a paper check at the check issuing desk, where they probably also paid for the goods they were going to purchase. Then they exchanged the paper check for a metallic check when they received their goods and the metallic check was their proof for receiving the quarterly dividend. However, it appears as if the Newcastle Society had problems with customers sometimes leaving the store with their paper check and choosing to collect their goods at another time. This caused problems in the accounts, because the value of checks issued exceeded sales. Besides this, paper checks were being altered before they were exchanged for metallic checks. These irregularities could be the result of falsifications or errors made by shop assistants at the check issuing desks.546 In 1882 new instructions in respect of checks were drawn up and 500 copies were printed for distribution to the staff.547 But there is more evidence pointing out the members/customers as the troublemakers. Checks were pawned by members. The society took legal advice, which confirmed that the practice was ille- ––––––––– 541 Protokoll föreningsstämma 8/4 1932. 542 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1927, p. 15, in FKFS 1907-1940. 543 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1937, p. 30, in FKFS 1907-1940. 544 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1947, p. 53, in FKFS 1941-1949. 545 See circular Till Biträdena vid Solidar, Malmö 1 november 1928, in dossier Kooperativa Före- ningen Solidar, Malmö. Letter from the office of Solidar to the employees’ club, 9 November 1925: ”Till Personalklubben SOLIDAR, Malmö, in map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn, Diverse Handlingar. 546 Jim Lamb's Chronological Register 1882. 547 See Jim Lamb's Chronological Register 1882. For the meetings where these issues were discussed see Minutes Directors' Meeting 7th March 1882 and 2nd May 1882.

187 gal. It was reported to the police, but nothing was done. The society had a fair chance to win a court case against the pawnbrokers concerned and this apparently motivated the latter to hand in the checks.548 It is interesting to note that at least some members in the Newcastle Society relied on pawnbrokers to make ends meet. This practice illustrate that membership in a consumer co-operative society needed not always mean that member households managed to be economising. It shows that some members had to rely on a set up of different means to make ends meet where dividend on purchase and interest on capital could be combined with more immediate means of finding resources such a turning to a pawnbroker.549 To stop the practice of pledging checks, rule 13 was revised in 1887 forbidding this practice and pointing out that checks and tokens should not be regarded as articles of marketable value. If any person, member or non-member was found buying, selling or pledging checks this would be regarded as an injurious conduct and would be dealt with in accordance with rule 31, in other words, the member would be expelled.550 Additionally, at the beginning of the 20th century it was decided that the combined paper and metallic check system should be exchanged for a system where only paper checks were used. This change engaged many member, to the quarterly meeting where the question was going to be settled came so many members that the meeting had to be adjourned twice since not all members who wished could get into the meeting hall at the original meeting and the first adjourned meeting.551 In non-co-operative stores the receipt only had the function of providing customers with a proof of purchase. In the Co-op shop receiving a receipt or checks and having to save these meant that members could and were encouraged to keep a check on their purchases. Keeping a check on one’s purchases meant practical education in household economics. This practice was also encouraged in the co- operative press from the end of the 1910s and in the course on the subject of household economics that KF launched in the 1930s.552 Being a member in a co-operative society also implied certain duties. The directors often demanded that members should prove their loyalty by doing all or at least the better part of their purchases in the stores of the society. They main- ––––––––– 548 See Minutes Directors' Meeting 20th June, 27th June, 4th July, 11th July, 18th July 1893. The problems with member pawning checks continued at directors' meeting in October 1900 a case where a Pawnbroker had sent checks to the Society was discussed. Minutes Directors' Meeting 2nd October 1900. 549 Paul Johnson includes an illustrative example of how households with little means had to make as much as they could out of their resources and be inventive, in his excellent study of the working- class economy in Britain 1870 to 1939. See Mrs Gamble and her ingenious way of making ends meet. Johnson Paul, Saving and Spending: The Working-Class Economy in Britain 1870-1939, (1985), Clarendon Press, Oxford, p. 191-192. 550 Adjourned Quarterly Meeting. August 10th 1887. 551 Minutes 158th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st October 1900. Minutes Adjourned Quarterly Gen- eral Meeting, 13th November 1900. Minutes Adjourned Quarterly General Meeting, 26th November 1900. Special Committee report on new paper check system. Minutes Quarterly General Meeting 160th 24th April 1901.. 552 Aléx, (1994), pp. 159-161, 215-219.

188 tained that the relationship between member households and their co-operative society should be based on mutuality. Phrases like “the Co-operative spirit” and “a sense of solidarity” were referred to in the propaganda, but the boards of the Newcastle Society and Solidar did not only rely on emotional ties, they also referred to rules that guaranteed a certain level of mutuality. In Solidar members were constantly urged to “köptrohet” i.e. to demonstrate their loyalty through purchases. No similar concept can be found in the minutes of the Newcastle Society, but the directors urged members to shop in the stores of the society. Furthermore, members of the Newcastle Society had to shop for a certain amount in their stores in order to receive interest on their share capital. In 1888 members had to shop for £8 per annum to receive interest on their share capital, in 1905 the amount was changed to £3 each quarter and remained so until 1961 when the paragraph conditioning interest on capital was deleted from the rules.553 There were some members who did not agree with this rule from the start but the directors were strict and made no exceptions.554 Members standing for office in the Newcastle Society had to purchase goods in the stores of the society for a much higher amount, in 1905 it was £25 per annum, from 1946 to the end of the period examined the sum was £32 per annum.555 These were the conditions stated in the rules but there were members and directors who thought that the conditions should be more far-reaching. At a quarterly meeting in July in 1913 a motion proposing that "…it be an instruction to the Directors to consider and submit a scheme for paying interest upon capital according to purchases…" was moved. There is no reference in the minutes telling us if it was seconded and voted on.556 From 1889 members in the Newcastle Society could borrow money on the security of property from their society. This was a member benefit that not all members had the possibility to use and it is therefore not surprising that it was questioned by some members. At a quarterly meeting in April in 1919 a member asked how the directors decided who should be granted a mortgage. A director on the platform pointed out that not only did the board check the value of the security offered properly, they also checked the loyalty of the applicant, that is how much they purchased from the society.557 Revising the rules in 1938 a suggestion came up that members should spend at least £5 in the stores of the society before ––––––––– 553 “Rules revision – no interest to be paid on capital of members whose purchases did not average £8 p.a. or whose purchases consisted entirely or largely of goods not yielding the average rate of profit.” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1888. See also Proposed Rules 1094-1905 in 120/106. See Minutes of Special General Meeting, 26th April, 1961. 554 In November in 1889 Mr Plew had written to the board and complained over the fact that he had not received any interest on his share capital that quarter. He tried to negotiate with the Board writing that the two previous years his purchases had exceeded £8 pounds. The board still decided that Mr Plew would not receive any interest this year since his purchases in 1889 had not exceeded £8 and sent him a letter explaining the conditions. Minutes Directors’ Meeting Tuesday 12th Novem- ber 1889. 555 Proposed Rules 1904-1905 in 120/106. Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 1946. Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 1968. 556 Minutes 209th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1913. 557 Minutes 232nd Quarterly General Meeting, 30th April 1919.

189 being allowed to vote at member meetings. The resolution was, however, lost.558 This attempt to link economic participation with democratic influence is interesting, because it indicates that shopping members were regarded as loyal and active members. However, in 1961 it was decided at a special general meeting to delete the lines in the rules linking interest on capital to purchases per quarter. This meant that the members in the Newcastle Society no longer had any formal obligation to be active purchasing members in order to receive interest on the capital they had invested in the society.559 In Solidar we find that between 1918 and 1925 all members of the society had to purchase goods for 12 kronor per annum in order not to be expelled from the society.560 After the revision of rules in 1925 it was only members standing for office that had to buy goods in the society’s stores for a certain amount each year, that amount was 400 kronor.561 In 1947 two members of the member council handed in a proposition to the board proposing that the sum of 400 kronor per year was too low. They thought that at least members of the board should be required to shop for more than 400 kronor per year. The board agreed that this question should be discussed further and that it would return to the matter latter on.562 If the sum was raised or not is not revealed in the minutes of district or member council meetings. However, in 1951 the Association Act was revised, a revision that made it impossible for consumer co-operative societies to demand that their members buy goods for any particular sum. In this respect the relation between members and their consumer co-operative societies should be the same as between customers and stores in general.563 Therefore Solidar could no longer include the demand that members standing for office should purchase goods for a particular sum. Nevertheless, it was still pointed out in the rules from 1952 that such members must make regular purchases in the stores of Solidar.564 Some twenty years later this demand was abolished and the only specified demands that remained were the ones applying to candidates for the board. These candidates should have experience and knowledge of co-operation, economy and society in general, but they were not obliged to make regular purchases from Soli- dar.565 For rank and file members in Solidar there was only one rule regarding purchases from 1925 to 1970 that they had to comply with. If they had not handed in receipts for purchases during a period of ten years and not made themselves known in any other way, a notice would be put up in the stores and if the mem-

––––––––– 558 Minutes of the second Special General Meeting, 29th June 1938. 559 Minutes of Special General Meeting, 26th April, 1961. 560 See Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid Koop Bageriföreningen Solidars årsstämma i Malmö den 3 mars 1918 med Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidar u.p.a. i Malmö, attached to Stadgar för Kooperativa Fö- reningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn. Diverse Handlingar. 561 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1925. 562 Protokoll styrelsemöte 23 februari 1948. 563 Rodhe, (1952), p. 80. 564 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1952, p. 5. 565 Stadgar för Konsumtionsföreningen Solidar 1970, p. 13.

190 ber in question did not contact the society within two months time she/he was expelled.566 The propaganda for loyalty through purchases was extensive in both societies, but judging by the records left this propaganda seems to have been more comprehensive in Solidar. The directors of Solidar ended many annual reports with an appeal to members to buy their goods in the stores of the society or thanked members for having bought more from their society than in the previous year.567 To reach new records of sales and thereby to strengthen the position of the society in the city was something that directors in both societies aimed for. The breaking of records was also celebrated as victories of co-operation in general.568 But what did the boards compare with when it came to breaking records? Natu- rally, the results of previous years were seen as benchmarks but they also competed with other co-operative societies. In the concluding remarks of the annual report for 1930 the directors of Solidar write that it is a point of honour for the shareholders/members to keep sales up, and to remain if not the largest then at least the second largest society in Sweden.569 The directors of the Newcastle So- ciety also called upon the members to keep up the high levels of purchase when times were good and increase their purchases when sales decreased. In the 1960s when sale figures fluctuated from year to year, the chairman became more persistent in his exhortations.570 However, as we saw above, the clauses “Interest ––––––––– 566 See Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1925, Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1932, Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö 1952 and Stadgar för Konsumtionsföreningen Solidar 1970. 567 In 1914, between 1917 and 1925 and in the 1950s members were urged to buy more and pay the full amount of shares required. See the directors concluding words in FKFS 1907-1940. See particularly in Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1919 where the directors are explaining that the best support for the Co-operative movement is the support in practice, and the greatest capital asset of the Movement is the consumer purchasing power. In the years when sales were increasing considerably members were urged to keep up the good work, see for example in Förvaltningsberät- telser from the 1920s and 1950s. Though the tone in the concluding words are not the same in the two decades. In the 1920s it is the success of Solidar and the Co-operative Movement that is emphasised and in the 1950s it is a more reasoning text where the ups and downs in turnover is explained with references to general trends in the economy. FKFS 1907-1940. FKFS 1941-1949 and FKFS 1950-1960. 568 For examples see concluding remarks in förvaltningsberättelser from 1929 to 1932 in FKFS 1907- 1940. By way of introduction the chairman of the Newcastle Society usually commented the development of sales, member figures, payment of collective life assurance etc. and thanked members for their loyal purchase. However sometimes more precise targets were set: ”The members had lived up to the target figures, and he [the chairman] was agreeably surprised in the way the target had been exceeded.” Minutes 378th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th October 1955. 569 See “Slutord” in Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1930, p. 21, in FKFS 1907-1940. 570 In the beginning of 1962 sales pointed downwards for the first time since the 1930s and the chairman was worried. Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1962. Sales continued to decrease. To start with the chairman mainly explained this drop with the general difficult times for workers in Newcastle and in the North East, plus dramatic decrees in sales of tobacco and cigarettes because of reports of the connection between smoking and lung cancer. Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 25th April 1962. Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 30th January 1963. However, the chairman eventually started to appeal to the members to buy more from the society. Minutes Half- Yearly Meeting, 29th April 1964.

191 conditional upon members’ were deleted in 1961. This means that in times when sales decreased a rule that called upon members to purchase goods in the society for at least a minimum sum each quarter or year was abolished. Nevertheless, the relatively moderate sums that the members earlier had had to purchase in order to receive interest on their share capital would probably not have helped in the trade slumps of the society in the 1960s. The relatively moderate formal demands on members in both societies regarding payment of shares or amounts that members had to purchase for in order to receive interest on share capital cannot be seen as particular strong instruments of coercion. However, they were instruments of incentive and were introduced to guarantee the members’ economic participation in the economy of the society. In the following section we continue to examine the change in trading practice, however, the focus is now moved from trading practice particular for the co- operative stores to more general changes in trading practice and how the co- operative societies handled this. The practice in question is credit. During the period examined in this study the practice of credit changed considerably and we shall among other things see how the two societies responded to the introduction of hire purchase. For the boards of the two societies it was an aim to construct credit schemes that did not impair the economy of the society and economy of the member households. If they managed to do this and what that implied in terms of schemes introduce is something we shall see in the following section.

2.3 How co-operators in Newcastle and Malmö dealt with credit trade in practice The Rochdale Pioneers declared cash trade as one of their principles and cash trading was one of the principles stated by the International Co-operative movement up until the revision of the ICA’s principles in 1966.571 Since cash trading was a co-operative principle for such a long period of time, the co-operative propaganda against credit trading, at least in Sweden, was comprehensive. Ingrid Millbourn has demonstrated how the co-operative propaganda against credit first and foremost was directed towards the housewife.572 Peder Aléx, in his study of KF as an educator, has also examined the propaganda against credit and concludes that this propaganda was part of the aim to educate members of the consumer co-operative societies to sensible and rational consumers.573 But KF’s firm stand against credit trading was also successively transformed, and in another study Aléx demonstrates how the rhetoric changed and became more advisory than educational. The change took place successively, starting at the beginning of the 1950s.574

––––––––– 571 Stolpe Herman, Kooperationens grundsatser förr och nu, (1971), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm, p. 78. 572 Millbourn, (1976), (1982). 573 Aléx, (1994). 574 Aléx, (1999).

192 In Britain scholars have demonstrated that thrift and economic responsibility were co-operative virtues in both rhetoric and practice.575 Cash trading was an important co-operative principle but, as Johnston Brichall has pointed out, this principle had two sides, on the one hand it might have deterred some people from becoming members but on the other hand it was sound for the economy of the co-operative societies.576 Comparing with the Swedish secondary literature I have found no British studies that in detail account for if and how the co- operative propaganda in the aspect of credit trading changed. But from a British comprehensive study conducted in the late 1930s we can learn a few things about how the consumer co-operative societies handled credit in practice and find examples of the different means of credit used by co-operatives.577 Hence, the differences between Sweden and Britain in respect of co-operative propaganda against credit trading are somewhat difficult to state, since this subject has been more explored on the Swedish side. Still, there seems to be a difference in the ambitions of the co-operative federal organisations in the two countries to educate the co-operative members in this respect. Studies on the development of the federal organisation in the two countries also demonstrate that these organisations’ possibilities to control and guide the individual societies in respect of economic solidity differed. As pointed out in the introductory part, KF established the so-called Soliditetsavdelningen (Credit Rating Department) as early as 1909. This department’s task was to keep a check on the economy of the co-operative societies and KF’s accountants gave the local co-operative leaders advice about how to improve their economy and businesses. One of the things these accountants kept an eye on was that the co-operative societies practised cash trade.578 The Co-operative Union in Britain also had a finance department whose chief mission was to keep a check on the finances of the union itself and then to give the co-operative societies advice when it came to taxes, check systems, investments and leakage accounts. For the union, that was a non-trading co-operative society, there was no evident interest in a closer control of the finances of the member societies.579 However, the education for employees that the Co-operative Union administered and managed implied that the union had a possibility to teach managers and secretaries the importance of sound finances.580 The CWS, the wholesale society, had a much greater interest in checking the economy of the societies that bought their goods via CWS. But the only “department” or section of the CWS that had a good check on the economy of the individual co-operative societies was the CWS Bank, established as the Loan and Deposit Department in 1872. In this bank the majority of consumer co-operative societies deposited their money and they could also borrow money and apply for overdrafts. Still, the proportion of the funds placed in overdraft at the end of the ––––––––– 575 Gurney, (1996), see in particular Chapter 2 and Chapter 3. Johnson, (1985), Chapter 5. 576 Birchall, (1994), p. 59. 577 Carr-Saunders, (1938), pp. 120-123. 578 Ruin, (1960), p. 40. Jonnergård Karin, Federativa processer och administrativ utveckling: En studie av federativ kooperativa organisationer, (1988), Lund University Press, Lund, pp. 134-136. 579 Carr-Saunders, (1938), p. 206. 580 Carr-Saunders, (1938), p. 224.

193 1930s was relatively low and the investments relatively high. Carr-Saunders et al’s explanation for this is: “…the habits of thrift innate in the co-operative system”.581 But were the ill effects of credit trade only something that worried co- operators? In Sweden members of Riksdagen (the Swedish Parliament) were very critical of the peddling trade in the countryside with an extensive credit trade. A concern for the economy of people of small means motivated their worrying comments. But the credit trade was also problematic for the shopkeepers, and their associations tried time and time again in the second half of the 19th and at the beginning of the 20th century, to set standards for the credit trade. But it was the negative effects for the consumers that the co-operative propaganda aimed at. In Sweden some of the consumer co-operative societies founded in the second half of the 19th century started with the motive to stop the comprehensive credit trade and offer an alternative.582 Credit trade also worried members of the British Parliament, as illustrated by the successive changes in legislation on credit and the criticism of the comprehensive credit trade by social critics.583 Against this background of co-operative propaganda, differences in the organisations of federal co-operative organisations and more general concerns about the ills of credit trade we shall now view how the Newcastle Society and Solidar handled the credit trade in practice. Did the Newcastle Society have a credit system in the early days and what was the attitude towards credit then? According to the information given to the Registrar of Friendly Societies in 1866, the society neither took nor gave credit then.584 But the attitude towards credit was more complex, which is demonstrated by a decision taken at a quarterly meeting in 1863. On the appeal from members of consumer co-operative societies in Lancashire, mediated through the Co-operative Union, the quarterly meeting in March decided to put subscription lists in the stores, where members could sign up for a sum as a contribution to co-operative members in need in the Cotton District. The reason why co- operators in Lancashire asked for financial support via the Co-operative Union was that the committees of their own societies had denied them aid on the grounds of their having too small sums invested in their respective stores.585 It was not unusual that a committee of a co-operative society granted members in economic difficulties permission to buy goods on credit, as long as the sums did not exceed the capital the member had invested in shares in the society. In this way these members did not have to withdraw their capital, and if they should fail to pay back their share capital could cover the debt.586 In this light the support for ––––––––– 581 Carr-Saunders, (1938), pp. 167-168, quote p. 168. 582 Aléx, (1994), pp. 126-128. 583 Goode R. M., Hire-Purchase Law and practice, (1970), Butterworth & Co. Ltd., London, see Chapter 1 for overview of changes in legislation relating to credit trade. For an overview of the standpoints in the debate about the problems of the credit trade see Johnson, (1985), chapter 6 Cre- dit. 584 A Brief Account…, (1886), p.7. 585 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, Wednesday March 4th 1863. 586 Darvill, (1954), pp. 164-168.

194 the Lancashire co-operators from members in the Newcastle Society can be interpreted as an acceptance of credit in situations of occasional need. The board also accepted credit arrangements that did not involve any risks for the economy of the society. The Newcastle Society eventually introduced credit systems for its own members to enable them to buy goods on credit. As we shall see these system were also designed to minimise the economic risk for the society and the member household. Exactly when the Newcastle Society introduced a formal credit system is unclear. However, in 1883 Cramlington Co-operative Society protested against the Newcastle Society’s credit system. This was a system that, according to representatives from Cramlington, allowed credit to members in Seaton Burn, a village in the area that the board of the Cramlington Society considered as their trading area. The Cramlington Society board suggested that this system induced members of their society to become members of the Newcastle Society. The board of the Newcastle Society repudiated this accusation saying that they had no credit system.587 It is only towards the end of the 1880s that we find detailed information about a credit system in operation. And this system was a so-called draw club system: 1- Each club was to have 24 members and payments to extend over 24 weeks. 2- The Clubs to be drawn by the Directors at their weekly meeting. 3- Minimum subscriptions were to be 6d., and not more than 3 shillings per week, but Members may subscribe to more than one club. 4- Goods will not be supplied to Members of Club in excess of the amount standing to their Credit in the books of the Society. 5- Each Member on joining a Club must produce his share Pass Book, or receipt for the same. 6- Goods will be supplied to Members of this Club from all or any of the Society's Drapery, Tailoring, Hat, Shoe, Household Ware, Furnishing, or Jewellery Departments…7- Members who allow their Club subscription to fall into arrears will have the amount owing to the Club deducted from their Share Account the close of the Quarter in which the Club expires, and Dividend will not be allowed upon amounts transferred from share Account to meet arrears of payments due to the Club.588 The condition “Goods will not be supplied to Members of Club in excess of the amount standing to their Credit in the books of the Society…” demonstrates that it was a credit system that did not risk the economy of the society or the economy of the member households. In a study on the Co-operative movement made at the end of the 1930s it is pointed out that there was a difference between the societies in the north and in the south of Britain when it came to the character of credit systems. In both regions it was a question of club systems, but in the North the draw clubs dominated and in the South the mutuality clubs were more spread. The draw clubs ––––––––– 587 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 11th September 1883 and Minutes Directors’ Meeting 18th September 1883. Credit trade was forbidden in the Rules of the Newcastle Society at least in 1895. See Min- utes 138th Quarterly General Meeting 138th October 30th 1895. 588 Rules regarding clubs attached to Minutes Directors' Meeting 10th April 1888.

195 were a sort of lottery where nobody lost their stake and where the winners did not win any money or prize but the benefit of credit. The club was made up of a limited group of members. The members whose names were drawn first got credit, while members whose names were drawn last paid in advance. The mutuality clubs was a system where many of the club characteristics had disappeared, i.e. no limited group of members joined a “club”; instead the members who wished to obtain credit simply applied for it. After having paid an agreed sum for a certain number of weeks he or she received vouchers to the value they had applied for. Then collectors picked up the remainder of the sum that the member owed and promoted the mutuality clubs in the areas where they operated.589 The Newcastle Society eventually also introduced “mutuality trading”, as the mutuality clubs were sometimes called. These kinds of clubs were, however, abolished in 1929.590 So far we have only considered some of the sanctioned schemes for “credit”. An incident in 1895 suggests that other kinds of credit were given without the permission of the board and that at least some members did not see this as a problem. At the quarterly meeting in October that year members protested against the decision of the board to dismiss the manager of the furnishing department for having violated the society’s rule forbidding trading on credit.591 This does not necessarily mean that these members sanctioned credit trading but they did not think that the manager in question should be fired for having broken this rule. There are also examples of members who thought that the society should develop the existing club schemes. They tried to stretch the use of the club system and reacted against what they thought was an unjust treatment of members who used the system. At the beginning of 1897 there was a clearance sale in the drapery, furnishing, tailoring, and hat & boots & shoe departments but notices in the stores made it clear that members whose club lots were due would not be able to purchase goods on these lots during the first three days of the sale. This made members upset and at the quarterly meeting in January it was decided that; “no discrimination be made between cash customers and members of clubs whose lots are due”.592 By 1920 the society had introduced a rule stating that the minimum amount that anyone paying with a club lot had to buy for was five shillings. This was something that not all members were pleased with and they wished to reduce this minimum level. The board promised to investigate if such a reduction was possible.593 In 1938 the board decided that the society would not allow any boot re- pairs to be paid by club lots unless the amount was two shillings and six pence or over. At the quarterly meeting in October several members took up this issue and the board had to explain its reasons for and defend this decision.594 These two ––––––––– 589 Carr-Saunders, (1938), pp. 120-121. 590 I have not found out exactly when mutuality clubs were introduced but in 1929 they were abolished. See Minutes 273rd Quarterly General Meeting, Wednesday 31st July 1929. 591 Minutes 138th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th October 1895. 592 Minutes 143rd Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1897. 593 Minutes 238th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1920. 594 Minutes 310th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th October 1938.

196 examples demonstrate that the board and at least some of the members of the society had different opinions about the conditions of the club scheme. On a practical level the board and management wanted certain restrictions to make the system administratively smooth. If the directors had any principal ideas about a minimum level is not revealed in the minutes studied. The member requests for reduced minimum levels of clubs indicate that some member households were interested in using the club system in their everyday management of their households, and not only for the purchases of more expensive goods. In the proposed rules from 1904 the introduction of an actual credit system was included but this proposal was not approved.595 However, six years later, that is in 1911, a hire-purchase system was introduced to make it possible for members to buy furniture on hire-purchase.596 With the introduction of a hire- purchase system the use of the club system diminished somewhat and as stated above in 1929 it was decided to wind up the mutuality clubs.597 But this did not mean the end of the club system. At a board meeting in May 1939 the general manager reported that 100 clubs had been issued under a new system, a kind of trading clubs. At the same time the chairman also stated that 33 members who had applied for such a club had been denied, generally because these members had been in debt to the society previously.598 We have now seen that there was a member demand for clubs and that the management of the society agreed to introduce "credit" systems. However, they made sure that these kinds of systems implied few risks for its economy. In the case of the “draw club” system there was no risk at all, since the members who joined the club financed the credit for each other, and the society only had the function of administrating the clubs. In the case of the “mutuality clubs” and “trading clubs” there was a risk, if the member who applied for credit did not have the equivalent amount in his or her share account. However, the general manager’s statement from 1939 demonstrates that the board did not grant members who had a bad record any new credit. As for the hire-purchase system, it was at least initially a low-risk system for retail traders. The customer hired the goods until the last payment and this meant that the stores owned and could recover the goods if the customer should fail to meet the instalments. However, during the depression in the 1930s when many people lost their jobs, they also lost furniture they had bought on instalments. This condition started off discussions about a change in the act regulating hire purchase and in 1938 The Hire-

––––––––– 595 The proposed system was written on a letter attached to the copy of the proposed rules 1904-1905: ”on Rule 14 To more that Members may purchase from the Society certain articles, on the hire purchase system by first depositing 10. (?). R. of the total amount of such goods. Afterwards to pay by monthly instalments, not less than 10/- per month. No goods shall be so purchased beyond the sum standing to the credit of the member in his share pass book. Signed Wm Beacy (?) See Proposed rules 1904-1905, in 120/106. Minutes Special General Meeting, 23rd November 1904 596 Minutes 202nd Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1911. 597 Minutes 273rd Quarterly General Meeting, 31st July 1929. 598 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 2nd May 1939. GM reported that 100 clubs had been issued under the new system, and that 33 had been declined, mostly on account of the fact of having been previously in debt to the Society.

197 Purchase Act was revised. This revision entailed that the hirer had an absolute right to terminate the hire purchase agreement by notice in writing before the final payment was due. However, the act also prescribed that retailers, i.e. the sellers, could not recover goods after the buyer had paid or tendered one-third of the agreed price for the goods.599 So far we have dealt with the conditions for credit in the Newcastle Society and the members’ opinions about them. The next issue to consider is to what extent members made use of the opportunity to buy goods on credit. The statistics from the Co-operative Union, reported in the chart below, contain information about members’ debts from 1895 to 1969. Note, however, that it only gives us a rough estimate of the use of clubs and hire-purchase, for there is some disconti- nuity in the categories used (see explanation below the chart). Chart 6. Members’ debts: The Newcastle Society 1895-1969

800000

600000

400000

200000

0 Sums in British pounds 1895 1903 1911 1919 1927 1935 1943 1951 1959 1967 1999 1907 1915 1923 1931 1939 1947 1955 1963

YEAR

Sums indexed by 1895 prices

Source chart 6: Return of Trade, Northern Section, that is, annual statistics sent to the Co-operative Union 1895 to 1969. As far as members' debts are concerned the categories in the account vary. The category ”Owing to the Society for goods at end of Year”, which was used from 1895 to 1925, included the ordinary members’ debts, the amounts owing for goods supplied on the hire purchase system, and contracts for work in the productive departments. (57th Annual Co-operative Congress Report – Southport 1925). Between the years 1925 and 1935 the figures are taken from the column called ”Accounts owing Goods”. There is a sub-category called ”Hire Purchase & Clubs (gross)”, a heading I found in the statistics from 1913 and 1914 as well. In 1935 the heading changes to ”Net amount all Members’ Debts after Deduction of Reserve” and in 1946 to ”Debtors for Goods”. 1959 to 1969 the heading is ”Sundry Debtors”. In 1946, 1952 and 1968 the annual figures comprise 53 weeks of trading. Chart 6 demonstrates that the introduction of the clubs in end of the 1880s did not result in any considerable debts. The significant rise in members’ debts to ––––––––– 599 Goode R. M., Hire-Purchase Law and Practice, (1970), Butterworths, London, pp. 10-11.

198 their society came first with the introduction of hire-purchase. In the middle of the 1920s there was a temporary rise in debts and the Second World War meant a few drops but the sharp rise in the second half of the 1950s is of course the most conspicuous. However, the chairman of the Newcastle Society considered the rise at the end of the 1940s as significant and stated that: During the period under view, the Hire Purchase and Club Sales of the Society had increased enormously which was a clear indication of the financial position of the moment. The Board had many Schemes under review for the benefit of the Society and for the members in particular.600 This statement indicates that at least the chairman at the end of the 1940s had a positive attitude towards "schemes" for credit that could be of benefit for the society and the members. Instead of trying to tamper the demand for hire-purchase or other credit arrangements or find alternative arrangements the board was going to develop new schemes. While developing these new schemes it got several suggestions from members about what was problematic with the existing systems. There were members who were sceptical of the practice that a member had to pay two pence each time he/she joined a club for the club book. At the quarterly meeting in October 1949 the chairman defended the procedure by pointing out that if the individual members did not pay for the books, the money had to be taken from the general funds of the society. Furthermore, he did not think that the auditors would agree to re-issue old club books.601 The same question came up at the quarterly meeting in January the following year and the chairman replied in the same way.602 It would not have been just to take the money from the general funds because then members who did not join clubs would have to pay for those who did. In 1949 the average sum of members' debts was a little over £1 but it was far from all members that joined a club or bought something on hire-purchase.603 With the sums in the member's share account as a guarantee, to cover debts if the member could not pay all instalments, the society finances were relatively safe. I have not found any indications that this practice was terminated during the period under study. Instructions on the back of the title page of the quarterly report in December 1948 inform us that the members were encouraged to buy on credit but that they had to have enough money saved in the society to do so, at least if they were joining a club:

––––––––– 600 Minutes 353rd Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1949. See also the Chairman’s comment at the Quarterly Meeting in October in the following year: “Many members were making full use of our Hire purchase Department. Despite the fact that the dividend looked low this had been an exceptional half year.” Minutes 358th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1950. 601 Minutes 354th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th October 1949. 602 Minutes 355th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th January 1950. 603 The sum of members' debts under the heading "Debtors for goods" was £108,805 and the number of members in 1949 was 87,969.

199 Club and Hire-Purchase System To help you with your buying./../CLUBS can be obtained up to the amount standing in Share Pass Book.604 Nevertheless, to operate credit schemes implied certain risks for the finances of the society. At the end of the 1940s and beginning of the 1950s the board found it necessary to transfer resources from investments and deposit accounts to get enough ready money for capital expenditure and the increasing club and hire- purchase trade.605 From the point of view of consolidation this need to take resources from investment and deposit accounts was risky. A second kind of risk was the possibility of fraud. At the quarterly meeting in April 1954 the chairman confirmed that a member had misused the club system and got away with goods to the value of £801. There were members pushing for prosecuting the swindler but the board had decided not to, since it would bring ridicule upon the society.606 After this incident the practice of issuing checks was investigated and precautions were taken so as to avoid similar events in the future.607 Successively members could buy more different types of goods on credit. From January 1954 members could pay for painting and decoration from the works department of the society by way of the Club System. Mr Mallabar pointed out that painting and decorating were often costly and that it would be good if members wishing to use the opportunity to order this service could get an estimate before obtaining a club. The chairman agreed that such an arrangement was possible to realise.608 But apparently not very many members took advantage of this offer. Only three months later the chairman appealed to members to order more painting and decorating from the works departments, since that department had not been doing as well as the board had expected.609 In July 1956 a 38-week club with a maximum credit of £20 for purchases in the furnishing,

––––––––– 604 Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited 351st Quarterly Report from September 4th to December 4th, 1948. 605 "Mr English (the Society's Auditor) replying to a question from Mr Mallabar regarding the withdrawal of £108,907 from the Investments Account said that withdrawals from this account was general throughout the Co-operative Movement during the last twelve months and was due mainly to the large capital expenditure and increased H.P. business." Minutes 352nd Quarterly General Me- eting, 27th April 1949. "Mr Mallabar then asked the society's auditor, if the withdrawal of £182,000 from Investment A/C which the Secretary had informed him was to finance the colossal Club and H.P. business was good, sound and legitimate business at the present time for the society. Mr. Eng- lish (Auditor) replied in the affirmative and stated this experience was that of all co-operative society at the present time." Minutes 356th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1950. “£136,994 transferred from Deposit to Current Account to meet higher trade purchases increased Club and Hire purchase trade and Capital expenditure.” Jim Lamb's Chronological Register 1951. 606 Minutes 372nd Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1954. Fraud in club system, the extent of the system is huge 11,000,000 entries. Decided not to prosecute the member who has gotten away with £801.0.0 of goods. It would bring ridicule upon the Society. 607 Minutes 375th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1955. “The Chairman replied and explained that precautions had now been taken to prevent a recurrence of a similar nature, and members applying for clubs would still get them on demand but a system had been devised, whereby a check could be made within a minimum of delay.” 608 Minutes 371st Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1954. 609 Minutes 372nd Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1954.

200 drapery, men’s wear and jewellery departments was introduced.610 At the following quarterly meeting it was reported that the introduction of this new club had been successful.611 Judging by what we can see in Chart 6 above, this club was most successful since the sums members owed to the society increased by some £200,000 in 1957. It was most likely not only the introduction of this club that contributed to the drastic rise but it surely played a significant part. In the middle of the 1950s the Newcastle Society sold radios and televisions and in 1958 a television rental scheme was introduced, a scheme that, according to the board, became very popular.612 Again we can see in Chart 6 that the sums members owed to the society increased by some £200,000 and it is very likely that the popularity of the television rental scheme played a role in this drastic increase. But times were troublesome in Newcastle at the end of the 1950s and the Newcastle Society was also affected by the rising unemployment figures, since the spending power of the members decreased. At the January quarterly meeting in 1959 the chairman commented on the situation by saying that despite bleak prognoses the members present must encourage other members to purchase more goods from the society. Referring to the credit facilities of the society he pointed out that the society had to meet the competition in this sector but that the hire- purchase, credit trading and the television rental schemes were doing extremely well. After this praise, a member, Mr Fendley, gave his opinion on why the credit facilities of the society still fell short of other traders in the city. He pointed out that younger members had to provide guarantors if they wished credit and therefore they were obliged to go elsewhere. The chairman did not agree: "…[he] said he must defend our Hire Purchase facilities which had a wonderful record and were second to none in this City, particularly with regard to interest rates.”613 Mr Fendley continued to make comments on the functions of the credit system. In 1961 when, as we shall see, even the chairman recognised that there were problems with the system, he wondered if the society was: "… doing enough in respect of Hire Purchase customers, in following up with a personal contact after the closure of their account".614 So what were the conditions for the credit schemes that Mr Fendley criticised? At the end of 1959 a director drew attention to the new credit facilities offered to members. On hire-purchase deals members paid a service charge of 5 per cent and the terms for payment could be extended from one to four years depending on the wishes of the member and the type of goods hired. Additionally, "[t]he 38 Weeks’ Credit Sale, Trading Clubs and Employees’ Clubs were abolished and in their place a Trading Credit Account would be available to members on a 40 weeks duration with a maximum of £40 in denominations, a 5% Service Charge and repayments to be made at 6d in the £ per week". At the same meeting the

––––––––– 610 Minutes 381st Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July 1956. 611 Minutes 382nd Quarterly General Meeting, 31st October 1956. 612 Minutes 389th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1958. Minutes 390th Quarterly General Meet- ing, 29th October 1958. 613 Minutes 391st Quarterly General Meeting, 28th January 1959. 614 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1961.

201 chairman pointed out that the board had the potential to sell more dry goods and that the new terms for hire-purchase were introduced to attract this trade.615 Thus, the Newcastle Society tried its best to meet the competition in the credit trade sector. How the schemes were promoted outside the quarterly meeting is not possible to find out. But it is not likely that the schemes for hire-purchase and credit were promoted in a way that encouraged impulse buying. A statement by the chairman at the quarterly meeting in July 1960 suggests this. He stated that members in generally were sensible and only bought "essential durable goods for utilitarian purposes" on hire-purchase terms. And that the salesmen of the society were instructed not to pressure customers to buy something they had not had in mind to purchase.616 Summing up the findings of how co-operators in Newcastle handled the practice of credit dealing we find that from the 1880s when the club system was introduced to the 1960s the practice and the rhetoric concerning credit systems changed. At the end the 19th century the chairman would not use the word credit, some sixty years later the chairman proclaimed that the society had the best credit system in the city. In practice the policy to develop co-operative credit systems implied that, from a customer perspective, the Co-op was offering credit like all other stores. Only members who knew more about the motives behind the restrictions built into these systems – restrictions introduced to safeguard the economy of the society as well as the economy of the debtor – cold appreciate the difference. From the beginning of the 20th century the board of the Newcastle Society tried to keep up with the competitors but Mr Fendley’s comments at member meeting in 1959 and 1961 indicate that the restrictions built into the credit systems of the society made them less attractive. What about the situation in Malmö and Solidar when it came to credit trading? Well it seems as if at least some members of the consumer co-operative society Seger had a knowledge about the original co-operative principles and wished to adhere to them. At a member meeting in March in 1907 members were critical and stated that the board, in their opinion, did not manage the society in accordance with co-operative principles. Commenting the balance sheet two members protested against the fact that there was a sum in the post called outstanding debts. Mr A. Andersson thought it inappropriate for a co-operative store, since such a store should only be dealing in cash. Mr. Löfgren, defending the board said that they were well aware of the traps of credit trade and would not jeopardise the affairs of the society in any way.617 If board members and members in general in Solidar were as concerned with cash trading as the protesting members of Seger is difficult to say. I have found no principle discussions on the subject of credit in the minutes from the early years. However, in the paragraph on objects of the society in the rules from 1920, quoted at the beginning of this part, the demand for cash payment was in-

––––––––– 615 Minutes 394th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1959. 616 Minutes 397th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1960. 617 Protokoll fört vid möte med delägarna i Koop: förn: "Seger" u.p.a. i Malmö den 20 mars 1907.

202 serted.618 The message to members was thus that Solidar traded in cash as a rules. Nevertheless, a couple of incidents where members had received credit demonstrate that employees in Solidar did not always follow the cash trade instructions.619 The first and only member request for the introduction of a credit system that I have found date from the beginning of the 1950s. With the expansion of Soli- dar’s trading area by way of amalgamations the directors and managers were confronted with many different demands from members, depending on local conditions. At the district meeting in 1953 in Nordanå, a small community north east of Malmö, a member asked for a system of credit for the purchase of fuel and forage. In reply the chairman of the meeting, who also was a director, gave the members present a description of the development of cash trading pointing out that it was more important to be able to reduce prices than to have a system of credit.620 This director apparently stated a principle he believed in. However, if the member who raised the question had read the annual report before coming to the district meeting, the director’s statement probably confused him, since the report contained an advertisement for something called Låneköp i.e. hire purchase. I will soon explain what this hire purchase scheme involved but first let us look at the development that led to the introduction of it. In a report to Co-operative Congress in 1937 on the subject of savings and setting up a new household it is pointed out that the Co-operative movement aims was to promote the house-keeping/economising of its members. However, the authors of the report also pointed out that modern forms of credit, e.g. hire- purchase, were attracting more and more people, in particular young people setting up house. Before the 1930s co-operative societies had not had to consider the question of hire-purchase. However, by the late 1930s many societies had started selling furniture and more expensive household utensils. Therefore it was necessary to find credit solutions that could attract customers but that did not jeopardise the economy of the society or of the member households.621 Solidar started to sell household utensils as early as 1928 but it was first in the middle of the 1940s that they started to sell more costly goods that required a considerable investment for the households. The first such product was vacuum cleaners. The first advertisement for vacuum cleaners was inserted in the annual report from 1944 only three pages from a historic account reminding the members that the modern Co-operative movement that year was celebrating its cen- ––––––––– 618 Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid ordinarie halvårsstämma i Malmö den 29 Aug. 1920 med Koop. Bage- riföreningen Solidar u.p.a. i Malmö, attached to Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in Map ”Solidar, Seger, Limhamn. Diverse Handlingar, in Solidar archive. 619 A discovery of one store in Limhamn giving credit where one housewife had systematically cross- sed over her posts when the assistant had gone into the cellar. She agreed to repay 1,000 kronor. Elldin, (1957), year 1927. Herr Joel Jeppsson had questions regarding the credit that delivery men gave customers and also the delivery men’s permission to employ their own helpers. Protokoll distrikt 7 Kulladal 31/3 1936. 620 Protokoll distrikt Nordanå 30/3 1953. 621 Sparverksamhet och bosättning. Betänkande avgivet till Kooperativa förbudets kongress 1937, (1937), Kooperativa förbundets bokförlag, Stockholm pp. 5-7.

203 tenary. The celebratory text about the efforts of the Rochdale Pioneers and co- operators in many other countries ends with an outline of the seven co-operative principles. The sixth principle reads as follows: “Cash payments in wholesale as well as retail”. Turning the page, we find an advertisement for Hugin, a vacuum cleaner that members could buy for 160 kronor or, written in much smaller letters, buy on subscription.622 Solidar opened its first furniture shop called Möbel-Solidar in the old military barracks at Kronprinsen in Malmö in 1949. They had sold some furniture in the stores where they sold household utensils before, but the opening of a special store implied that more resources were put into this services. In an advertisement in the annual report from 1950 members were urged to go to Möbel-Solidar for modern home decorating. Next to the logo Möbel-Solidar a piggy bank is inserted with the text "- för den som spar…" (-for those who save…).623 However, only two reports away, in 1953 when the member from Nordanå was told that Solidar traded in cash not credit, the new hire purchase scheme called Låneköp is presented and explained. In short, the scheme implied that members who wished to buy furniture, a sewing-machine or another expensive product from Solidar were offered a loan in Malmö Sparbank (Malmö Savings Bank). Member who wished to borrow money in this way had to fulfil a number of conditions: 1. he or she had to be 21 or over, 2. had to have a permanent job, 3. had to have made regular purchases in Solidar during the last year or be a member of a family that had made such purchases, 4. had to have paid their taxes. In the report from 1953 it is pointed out that the best way to acquire expensive products is to save money but, if in immediate need of expensive products Solidar now had a hire purchase scheme to offer. Members still received a dividend on the products they bought on hire purchase and the only increase in price was the interest charge on the loan from Malmö Sparbank.624 Information about this new hire purchase scheme was also given at district meetings in 1954 and 1959.625 Parallel with the introduction of this scheme Solidar also introduced a washing machine rental scheme.626

––––––––– 622 The first store for the sale of household utensils was opened in 1928 on Linnegatan in Limhamn. See Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1928, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940. Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1943, pp. 47-48, quote p. 47, in FKFS 1941-1949, author’s translation. 623 In a table over the stores of Solidar in the Report from 1948 furniture is mentioned in connection with the stores for household utencils. Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1948, p. 31, in FKFS 1941-1949. Möbel-Solidar in Regementsgatan is listed in the annual report for 1949. För- valtnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1949, p. 54, in FKFS 1907-1940. The add for Möbel- Solidar is inserted in the Annual Report for 1950 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1950, p. 64, in FKFS 1950-1960, author’s translation. 624 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar Styrelsens, Medlemsrådets och Revisorenas berättelser för år 1953, p. 27, in FKFS 1950-1960, p. 27, author’s translation. I have not been able to find out what the interest charge was it is not mentioned in any of the adds inserted in annual reports. 625 Protokoll distrikt Östra Grevie söndag 11/4 1954. Protokoll distrikt Fosie 27/3 1959. 626 At a district meeting in Skanör the existing washing houses and planned projects were discussed. Johan Larsson then mentioned that within a few days it would be possible to lease a washing machine from Solidar. Protokoll distrikt Skanör lördag 11/4 1953.

204 There is no telling how many members made use of buying on hire purchase, since the figures no record of sums have been kept in the archive of Solidar. However, comments from members concerned with the success of Solidar tell us something about how this scheme developed. At the district meeting of St Petri in 1960 Mr Bror Malmquist was concerned with the scarce advertising of Soli- dar’s hire purchase scheme. He did not think that customers understood the difference between this scheme and the hire-purchase deals that non-co-operative stores were offering. He believed that the advertisements should make the differences clear so that consumers in general would understand that Solidar’s scheme was a more sensible deal and more economically advantageous for them. A manager answered him that the Domus department store had taken over the management of hire purchase and that they handled the propaganda for the scheme. He then thanked Malmquist for his suggestions.627 At another district meeting three years later we learn that some members had had trouble getting a Låneköp. It was two women who had been denied Låneköp even though they had shown their member certificates. Agnes Roslund asked if it was only men who got Lå- neköp on showing their member certificates? A manager present promised that he would investigate the matter but he thought it had to do with the fact that one had to give information about having a permanent job and income. The two women then also pointed out that they were very displeased with the service they had received at Domus.628 Summing up the findings of how co-operators in Malmö and mainly Solidar handled the practice of credit dealing we find that throughout the period studied the leadership of Solidar remained critical to this practice. The introduction of a hire purchase scheme did not change this attitude immediately. Mr Malmquist’s comment about the lack of propaganda and advertisement for the scheme indicate that this practice was not something that the society displayed proparly. For Solidar, and judging by the report at the Co-operative Congress in 1937 also other co-operative societies in Sweden, the introduction of some kind of credit for the sale of more expensive goods was something necessary but not welcomed. Like in the case of the Newcastle Society the credit schemes of Solidar had conditions that prevented certain groups of consumers from benefiting from them. These kinds of conditions were not exclusive for the hire purchase scheme of Solidar From an article in the Swedish newspaper Dagens Nyheter, in Decem- ber 1969, we learn that members elsewhere were denied the benefit of using this means of credit. In Olofström, a community in Blekinge, the county immediately northeast of Skåne, members of a consumer co-operative society had been denied to buy good on hire purchase because they were not Swedish citizens. Several people from Finland and Yugoslavia had moved to Olofström to work in the Volvo factory there, and some of them had joined the local Co-op. It was these members who had been denied to buy goods on hire-purchase terms. The manager of the Domus department store in Olofström told the newspaper that the fi- ––––––––– 627 Protokoll distrikt S:t Petri 8/4 1960. 628 Protokoll distrikt Lomma söndag den 7/4 1963.

205 nancial circumstances of these members could not be checked as easily as those of the Swedish members. Moreover, there was a risk that these members would return to their home country before they had made their final payment. Protesting against this lack of equality the members denied hire purchase threatened to boycott the Co-op stores in the community.629 The refusal to let immigrants without a Swedish citizenship and women without a paid job buy goods on hire purchase demonstrates a concern with the finances of the society. Members in Solidar and the consumer co-operative society in Olofström denied to buy goods on hire purchase terms in Domus could, and did protest against the way they were treated. However, if this did not help only the option to go to other stores remained. Looking at the credit schemes of the two societies studied we find that a concern with the economy of the society and that of the member households influenced the design of these schemes. In both cases the conditions of the credit schemes prevented bad debts, but they also excluded certain groups from buying goods on credit or by means of hire purchase. In both societies young households were generally denied credit. In the case of Solidar, denials also extended to married women without an income of their own. The major difference between the two cases is that the leadership of the Newcastle Society eventually came to see the introduction of credit schemes as a member benefit and something positive, while the comments and practice of the leadership of Solidar indicate that they reluctantly introduces such schemes. These differences in attitude most likely had their background in a different view on credit trade within the Co-operative movement in the two countries. And with this remark we have come to the end of this section and part. In this part we have viewed the build-up and rationalisation of services from a bird’s-eye view, from a generation perspective, and from a branch and district perspective. Additionally, we have examined the rights and duties of members as shopping customers in the stores of their societies and how co-operators in New- castle and Malmö dealt with credit in practice. Summing up this part I will draw upon some of the analytical points made in the previous two chapters and present a point of departure for our further inquiry into the workings of co-operation. In Chapter 1 it is argued that an expansion of services to cater for the members’ needs from cradle to grave was an aim for the leadership in the Newcastle Society and Solidar. Chart 1 and 3, which illustrate the number of services developed in the two societies, undoubtedly demonstrate that the societies were generalists and not specialists. Neither in Newcastle nor in Malmö was the introduction of one service after another motivated by a lack of particular services in the cities. That is to say, it was not mainly business opportunities that induced the board and management to introduce new services. However, our two societies developed different business strategies to accomplish this expansion in kinds of services. And to a certain extent they also employed different strategies to secure the availability of services, i.e. to expand store structure and delivery service. One factor behind these differences was the relation between co-operative ––––––––– 629 ”KF i Olofström hotas av bojkott från invandrare”, in Dagens Nyheter, tisdag 30 december 1969, p. 3.

206 societies in the region. In the case of Solidar co-operation between societies led to amalgamation; in the Newcastle case co-operation led to the introduction of some new services, and to some joint ventures, but very seldom to amalgamation. Chapter 2 examined the same development we described in Chapter 1, but from a different angle. It described the development of trading practices, and the relationship between the economy of the member households and the finances of the society, from the shopping members’ perspective. The latter relation is an important piece in the puzzle for the argument in parts to come. Given that what I have presented in Part Two is a plausible explanation of the pattern of service expansion and of the change in trading practice in the two societies examined, is there anything left to talk about for the remainder of the book? Plenty, I think. The point is not so much to explain highs and lows, ups and downs, of service statistics. Such matters provide a good starting point, and they will enter into the subsequent argument at some junctures, but they are not the principal object of our inquiry. Consider instead the following interesting implication of our exposition: if service build-up, including store and branch availability, is central to the working of these local consumer co-operative societies, and if that service build-up with the following rationalisation is mediated through a democratic organisation, then what we have portrayed in this chapter are the visible traces of ongoing decision-making processes. What services should be introduced, which branches should be opened and where – more generally, how should the societies prioritise between alternative uses of its resources – are issues that have to be settled somewhere by someone. This argument directs our attention inwards: towards the organisation and its members, and towards the interplay between service build-up, rival views and democratic forms. It points the way, in other words, to an inquiry into the workings of consumer co-operation in a local setting and to Part Three, in which we shall acquaint ourselves with the democratic forms, rules, standing order, and co- operative forums in the Newcastle Society and Solidar.

207

Picture 1. Benwell High Cross Branch in the beginning of the 20th century.

Picture 2. Buckingham Street Branch in the beginning of the 20th century. Picture 3. Fern Avenue Branch in the beginning of the 20th century.

Picture 4. The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. central premises in the beginning of the 20th century. Picture 5. The department store of the Newcastle Society built in 1932, picture from 2005.

Source: picture 1-4 from The Co-operative album of views of the city and county of Newcastle upon Tyne, in the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society archive in Gateshead. Picture 5 is a photo in the possession of the author. Picture 6. One of Solidar’s stores from the 1940s.

Picture 7. One of Solidar’s self services stores, 1950s or early 1960s. Picture 8. One of Solidar’s hypermarkets in the 1980s.

Source: picture 6-8 from map Diverse Solidar, in the picture archive in Konsumentföreningen Solidars arkiv, Malmö.

Figure 1. Map showing locations of markets in Newcastle upon Tyne in the 1730s. From Local Studies, City Library, Newcastle upon Tyne. Figure 2. Map showing Grainger Market and part of Grainger Town, reprinted from the Newcastle Journal 24 Octo- ber 1835.

Figure 3. The Family tree of Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Figure 4. The expansion of Solidar through amalgamations 1925 to 1970.

Figure 5. Map showing Malmö in 1931, original publisher of map unknown.

Reference: Figure 1 and 2 from Newcastle upon Tyne A Modern History, (2001), p. 11, 225. Figure 3 from Lamb and Warren, (1996), p. 2. Figure 4 drawn by the author. Figure 5 from Malmös kartor: Från 1500- talet till idag, (2003), p. 181. Picture 9. A study circle in home economics with participants from the women’s co-operative guild in Vellinge 1935.

Picture 10. Guildswomen in Malmö visiting FORUM, a design exhibition, in 1965 or 1967. Picture 11. Members of Konsumentgillet (the mixed guild) serving coffee and promoting a co-operative coffee brand outside Solidar’s supermarket in Kävlinge, 1982.

Picture 12. An outing with Kooperativa Klubben in the 1930s or 1940s. Picture 13. Demonstration of shoes at a meeting of Kooperativa Klubben in the 1930s or 1940s.

Picture 14. Demonstration by housewives from the gymnastics class for housewives arranged by Solidar the 1940s or 1950s. Picture 15. Gymnastics class for housewives arranged by Solidar in the 1965.

Picture 16. Study circle in the subject of co-operation in 1929. The man standing in front of the group is Johan Lars- son, chairman of the propaganda committee of Solidar from 1922 to 1960. Picture 17. Study circle with staff from Solidar 1980s.

Source: picture 9, 10 and 11 from map Kvinnogillet, picture 12 and 13 from map Kooperativa Klubben, pictures 14 and 15 from map Gymnastiken, picture 16 and 17 from map Gruppverksamheten, all the maps in the picture archive in Konsumentföreningen Solidars arkiv, Malmö. Part 3. Meetings, minutes and co-operative forums

1. Going to the member meeting Once every quarter, generally in January, April, July and October, members of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society could, if they so wished, go to a general member meeting. Their pass book, which in practice was also their membership certificate, served as an admission ticket and proved their right to vote at member meetings. The agendas of these meetings were fairly predictable and were printed in advance. This is not to say, however, that meetings were mere formalities, or that they followed a script that reduced attending members to the role of witnesses or bystanders. Members had the opportunity to comment upon the quarterly report and the accounts presented, and they could both propose and vote on propositions. Yet, if procedural rules did not determine the outcome of meetings, they set up requirements for the nature of participation. If members wanted to propose or comment on something at the meeting they had to know the standing orders, i.e. the procedures of a quarterly meeting. Proposi- tions, even some amendments to propositions, had to be sent in writing, and in advance, to the secretary of the society. Scheduled quarterly meetings could also be supplemented with special meetings. If anyone had an urgent matter that could not wait until the next quarterly meeting, or if a member or a group of members had an opinion about the affairs of the society that diverged from that of the board, they could call a special general meeting. But in order to do so, that member or group had to get at least one hundred members to sign a request for such a special meeting. Here, too, formal rules provided a framework which members had to know about and act within. The meetings themselves gave them an opportunity to learn the ropes. All members of the society were invited, and those who chose to come – sometimes up to 1,000 people or more – would seat themselves in rows in front of a platform where the directors were seated. Once everyone was seated, the chairman opened the meeting by welcoming all members present, and the proceedings would commence. This short description of quarterly and special member meetings in the New- castle Society sums up the general features of such meetings from the end of the 1860s to the end of the 1960s. A snapshot from Solidar’s member meetings, or rather two snapshots, will demonstrate that there were similarities in the democratic control of the two societies, but that there were significant differences in how this democratic control was put in practice.

209 Solidar had a less regular organisation of meetings, at least in the early days. During the first years of existence the frequency of meetings depended on when the board needed the members to decide on questions which the board had not yet gained the authority to resolve on its own. The frequency of meetings eventually became more established, with approximately two general member meetings a year. All members were welcome to these meetings. Yet, the system with one general member meeting was an interlude, and was soon up for revision. In 1924, the annual member meeting of Solidar accepted a new set of rules, which introduced a new mode of organisation. The society was divided into districts, and the representative democratic structure became more stratified. When these rules were implemented, the character of member meetings changed considerably. A system of district meetings was introduced. Initially there were six districts, hence six district meetings. And as other societies merged with Solidar, the number of districts and district meetings increased. District meetings were held once a year, usually in March or at the beginning of April. One of the tasks of the district meeting was to elect medlemsråd, i.e. representatives to the member council. The member council, to which these representatives were elected, had at least four meetings annually. Present at these meetings, besides medlemsråden, were also representatives from the board and the chief executive. Board representatives would listen to the elected members of the council, and inform them about the affairs of the society. But this was not their sole interface. members of the board, and often enough the chief executive, were also present at district meetings, and a board representative sometimes acted as chairman at these meetings. A further point of contact was the annual society meeting, where members from the member council, the directors of the board, and the chief executive all took part. What emerged from the decision in 1924 was thus a more stratified system of representation, with district meetings, a member council, and an annual society meeting. From 1925 onwards, Solidar had no member meeting where all members had at least the theoretical possibility to meet up and hold the whole board accountable. Both the Newcastle Society and Solidar are built on democratic structures, but their respective forms of democracy differ. All members could, at least in theory, take part in the quarterly meetings of the Newcastle Society. Solidar, on the other hand, had a more stratified representative system, where district meetings were only held once a year. This would appear to be a decisive difference. However, an analysis of the formal structure will, in itself, only take us so far. What we also want to know is how members could make use of available means to influence decisions at the meetings. To this end, we must study both the procedures of the democratic decision-making process and the agents taking part in this process. First, a brief general note on co-operative democracy. In contrast to the national political life we are all familiar with, co-operative democracy does not re- volve around conflicting interests organised in different formally constituted parties. But we do find more or less well organised groups which could potentially form pressure groups at the member meetings. Groups of this variety can of course form spontaneously, but it is plausible that their formation is much facilitated by what we have referred to elsewhere as co-operative forums, such as, for

210 example, the branches of The Women’s Co-operative Guild and their Swedish counterparts. Whether groups were actually formed within the co-operative forums, and what kind of interests they would help articulate, is an empirical matter. The same holds for the question which affiliations and dividing lines would serve as a basis for joint action, with or without the organisational aid provided by co-operative forums. Employees can be mentioned as one category that could very well emerge as a pressure group. A section of the membership working for the same company, or in the same profession, might attempt to influence the development of their co-operative society, but so could a group of committed teetotallers. In brief, it is truly an open question which affiliations, if any, may serve as platforms for the articulation of interests at member meetings. Now, the degree of influence that any kind of pressure group can exercise depends on the conditions of membership, democratic structure, and the procedures of the member meetings in the consumer co-operative societies. These factors will occupy us for the next four chapters of Part Three. Taken as an ensemble, these consecutive chapters set out to answer the following questions. Who could become a member of the Newcastle Society and of Solidar? Who were allowed to take part in the democratic decisions making process? How did members have to act if they had propositions or protests that they wished to present at a member meeting? What were the members’ possibilities to propose and carry a resolution or an amendment and to react on and question a proposition from the board? What authority did the member meeting have, in other words, what kinds of questions could only be decided by a member meeting? Did the procedures and authority change over time? Chapter Five then proceeds with an account of the co-operative forums and their role in the democratic decision-making processes of the two societies. It describes the introduction and development of forums and explores the relations between different forums and between the forums and the societies. Sections 5.1 and 5.2 present the co-operative forums in Newcastle and Malmö, respectively. They also address the question of what kind of abilities and knowledge members could acquire if they took part in the activities of the co-operative forums. But let us start with the most elementary conditions, namely the conditions for joining a consumer co-operative society.

1.1 Co-operatives for mechanics, railroad workers, bakers and husbands – the question of open membership policy When the Newcastle Society upon Tyne was formed in December 1860 it was registered as The Mechanics’ Industrial Co-operative Society. However, only eight years after its founding, at a special meeting for the revision of the rules, it was decided that the words Mechanics’ Industrial be dropped. It was thought that the old name was suggestive of exclusiveness to all but mechanics.630 In reality, ––––––––– 630 Minutes 29th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th July 1868. The comment that the old name was suggestive of exclusiveness to all but mechanics cannot be found in the minutes but in the jubilee history A Brief Account…, (1886), p. 8.

211 the society had never been exclusive to mechanics. A jubilee history from 1886, as well as a more recent historical tract on co-operation on Tyneside, informs us that it was cabinet-makers and fitters that formed the society.631 Moreover, the admission of women as members also indicates that this society had an open membership policy from the very start. In the minutes from the board we thus find out that Isabel Nixon was accepted as a member in February 1863. She thereby became the first female member of the society.632 At least two other women were accepted as members that same year.633 Some years later, when the number of persons applying for membership increased more rapidly, the number of women applicants also increased, not proportionally but in absolute numbers. In February 1866, 35 persons were approved as members, five of whom were women. And in February 1868, i.e. five months before the meeting when the name of the society was changed, eleven women were accepted as members (the total number of members accepted that month was 77).634 Since the fate of other consumer co-operative societies in Newcastle is unknown, we do not know if The Mechanics’ Industrial Co-operative Society was the only society left in Newcas- tle by 1868.635 The fact that they settled on The Newcastle upon Tyne Co- operative Society as the new name for the society, however, is an indication that they were now the only consumer co-operative society in the city. The name change could perhaps even be read as a manifestation of their singular status. Be that as it may. The crucial point here is that there is much evidence to support the conclusion that the Newcastle Society had practised an open membership policy all along. This also fits the general pattern in England, where most consumer co- operative societies had open membership policies by the 1860s.636 What, then, about Solidar in Malmö? Among the early co-operative ventures in Malmö, there are examples both of exclusive societies and of societies with an open membership policy. Malmö Arbetareförening (Malmö Worker’s Society) furnishes us with an example of the former. The society, founded in 1867, can be best compared to the Workmen’s Institute in Britain. Apart from its regular ac-

––––––––– 631 A Brief Account…, (1886), p. 1. Potts Archie, From Acorn to Oak. Co-operation on Tyneside 1858-1909, Northern Area Co-opreative Member Education Group c/o North Eastern Co-operative Society, p. 2. 632 She was proposed as a member on 16th February and accepted one week later. See Minutes Com- mittee Meeting, Monday 16th February 1863. Minutes Committee Meeting, Monday 23rd February 1863. Elisabeth Chapman might have been accepted as a member prior to Isabel Nixon since she applied to withdraw her membership in October 1863, see Minutes Committee Meeting, 12th Octo- ber 1863. 633 Ann Miller elected member, see Minutes Committee Meeting, 7th September 1863. Elisabeth Yardly elected member, see Minutes Committee Meeting 21st September 1863. 634 Women accepted as members in the Newcastle Society. See Minutes Committee Meetings, 6th, 13th, 20th and 29th, February 1866. See Minutes Committee Meetings, 4th 11th, 18th, February 1868. See also Minutes Committee Meeting, 28th January 1868 because the names of those elected members on the 4th February are listed as purposed in those minutes. 635 In the statistics of the Co-operative Union from 1872, when it first was published, no other co- operative societies than the Cabinet-makers co-op soc (a worker co-operative) and The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society is registered in Newcastle. 636 Cole, (1947), pp. 64-65.

212 tivities, Malmö Arbetareförening at one point decided to start up a co-operative store. Only those who were members of the association were allowed to apply for membership, and they had to do so by paying a monthly fee of 25 öre until the sum of 24 riksdaler was paid. After one month 626 customer’s passbooks were acquired by members and the turnover was 7,918 riksdaler. However, due to rapid expansion and unsuccessful investments this store went bankrupt after only three years.637 The aborted effort of Malmö Worker’s Society to go into co-operative business is an example, albeit not the most straightforward one, of an exclusive society. Membership in the consumer co-operative society was not restricted to any particular trade, background or profession, but it was conditioned on membership in Malmö Arbetareförening.638 A more common restriction on the range of possible members was presumably that of only allowing people belonging to some work-related category. It is not unlikely that this was the case in some of the bakery societies in Malmö. In Section 1.2. of Part One, we noted that three of the four bakery societies discussed there only sold bread to members. The names of these societies would also appear to suggest that they served an exclusive group of members: Gjuteriarbetarnas i Malmö Bageriförening (Foundry worker’s Baking Society in Malmö), Fackföreningars Bageriförening (Trade unions’ Bak- ery Society), and Arbetarna vid Statens Järnvägars Verkstäder i Malmö Bageriförening (The Bakery Society for employees at the State Railway Works in Malmö). The name of a society is admittedly too flimsy evidence to rely upon, for the reference to mechanics in the Newcastle Society’s original name in fact failed to correspond to an exclusive membership policy. Yet, there is no reason for us to dwell upon this issue any further. The case of Malmö Arbetareförening is a clear enough example of exclusive membership. Solidar, on the other hand, is an example of a co-operative in Malmö with an open membership policy. And so is Seger, a society which amalgamated with Solidar in 1925. Since we have access to the first rules of Solidar, there is no need to take the laborious detour of piecing together scraps of evidence. Avail- able documents simply reveal that, right from the start in 1907, membership was not restricted to any particular category. In fact, membership was not even restricted to individuals but also allowed associations to join. No less than 15 trade union sections bought shares in Solidar in 1908.639 The possibility for juridical

––––––––– 637 Svensson Inge, ”Hantverk och industri jämte levnadsförhållanden och arbetsmarknad i Malmö under perioden 1820-1870.”, Malmö stads historia, tredje delen (1820-1870), (1981), Allhems förlag, Malmö, p. 182-184. Gruveman, (1933), p. 6-7. 638 I have not found any information about the conditions for becoming a member of this store besides the financial conditions. Gruveman indicates in his account of the store that it was a problem that not all members of Malmö Arbetarförening became members. When the Store went into liquidation 626 books had been issued but at the time Malmö Arbetarförening had 2,371 members. Gru- veman, (1933), p. 6-7. 639 Malmöhusläns landskansliarkiv Anmälningar till föreningsregistret 1908 I EVIII f:17 Solidar 25/2 1908 No 65-68.

213 persons to join a co-operative society was introduced with an amendment of the Association Act in 1903.640 Open membership, as we have used the term, refers primarily to the absence of any rule limiting membership to one particular category, work-related or otherwise. This still leaves open the possibility that certain categories can be formally or de facto excluded. Women could be a case in point. Yet, we have already seen that women were admitted to the Newcastle Society from the very beginning, and our examples gave an idea of the influx of women into the society. The same is true of Solidar. In the member register from 1908 handed into the Registrar two women out of 117 individual members can be identified.641 Still it is more difficult to make a more comprehensive investigation, since in the minutes from board meetings applicants are listed as numbers and not as names. However, there is no clause against women applying for membership in the rules from 1908, and there were two women on the first member council of Solidar.642 Moreover, the first women’s guild branch in Malmö, founded in 1908, propagated for women to join the consumer co-operative societies in the city.643 All in all, there is no doubt that women could, and did, become members of Solidar. Yet, it is not a moot point to bring up the issue of gender. We will get back to it shortly, for it ties into the conception of membership in the two societies. Before we do so we should make a few more remarks to clarify the notion of open membership. Open membership is not the same thing as a right to membership for any prospective member. In both societies, people had to apply to the committee/board for membership, and these applications could either be approved or refused.644 Besides, those who had become members could face exclusion. There is an interesting example of this from the Newcastle Society in 1899, when a member, who was critical of the ways in which the secretary and the auditors handled the accounts of the society, was expelled from the society. He had gathered over a hundred signatures to bring about a special meeting. At the meeting, however, the chairman stated that several members had denied that it was their signatures on the request for a special meeting, and some had withdrawn their names. A public auditor was also present at the meeting, and he declared that he had found no fault in the accounts of the Society. The protest was thus rejected, and the member in question was forced to leave the society.645 According to the rules of the Newcastle Society from 1905, members who had been ex-

––––––––– 640 Johansson, (1999), pp. 16-17. 641 Malmöhusläns landskansliarkiv Anmälningar till föreningsregistret 1908 I EVIII f:17 Solidar 25/2 1908 No 65-68. 642 Protokoll distriktsmöte Malmö 6/12 1925. 643 See Section 5.2, in this part. 644 In the book The People’s Store. A Guide the North Eastern Co-ops Family Tree an account of a member being denied membership is included. A former member that already had been excluded once applied again for membership. His request was turned down. It was pointed out that he would be admitted only when he could guarantee that the unruly conduct of his wife, which was complained about during his last membership, would not be repeated. Lamb and Warren, (1996), p. 8. From Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register we find out that the incident took place in 1882. 645 Minutes 152nd Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1899.

214 cluded could regain their membership by an appeal to a quarterly member meeting. In Solidar, too, prospective members were required to apply for membership, and here, too, their application could be refused. Solidar’s rules from 1916 gave members whom the board had denied membership, the possibility to submit their application to a general annual meeting instead – as a sort of appeal against the board’s decision. However, this possibility disappeared with the acceptance of new rules in 1918.646 These examples ought to make clear that open membership is not tantamount to free admittance. It means, rather, that scrutinies are made on an individual – or, as we shall see, household – basis. Let us, once again, go back to gender issues. There was no rule against women applying for membership in either society, and, as we have seen, women did apply for membership. Yet, the interplay between gender-neutral society rules and gendered habits can encroach on female participation in a more indirect fashion. The Newcastle Society had no formal rule against two members from the same household applying for membership. However, a concern about preventing members from using the society only as a savings institution implied that really only one member per household was welcomed as the official member of the society. The rules do not say whether the husband or the wife should be the member, but a clause in Paragraph 4 – in the edition of rules from 1905 to 1968 – indicates that it was husbands rather than wives who usually applied for membership: “[a] married woman may be admitted a member”.647 It may be that it was the Women’s Co-operative Guild campaign in the 1880s for a truly open membership, meaning that both husband and wife should be admitted as members, which led to the introduction of this clause in the rules.648 At any rate, the necessity of including it testifies to what was considered at the time to be the normal state of affairs. So, while the rules were neutral enough, a wish to avoid duplicate household membership could obviously result in a sceptical attitude towards married ––––––––– 646 Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidars årstämma i Malmö den 3/3 1918, attatched to Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 1920, in Map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn Diverse Handlingar. 647 Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905. Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society 1946. Rules of The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited, 1963. Rules of The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Lim- ited, 1968. 648 The Women’s Co-operative Guild started its campaign for open membership in 1884. In the 1880s most co-operatives in Britain were open to both women and men though many did not accept that two members from the same family/household were members. By this time many societies had more share capital that they could put to use but they were still obliged to pay the 5 per cent as interest and found it difficult to earn as much by investing the capital safely elsewhere. Besides these practical reasons, it was also observed that some men wished to have control over the money received as interest and dividend. Wives that were members in their own right and could collect interest and dividend tended to regard this money as their own property even in the days before The Married Women’s Property Act. If the husband was the household member he had control over this income. The WCG campaign also wished to make it possible for married women to become elected to committees and board, because to be able to vote and stand for office they had to be members in their own right. See Cole, (1947), pp. 183-184, 220.

215 women becoming members. We find examples of this in the discussions of the Revision of Rules Committee 1904-1905. Here, the concern with double household membership made certain members sceptical about admitting married women, arguing precisely that member households could use the society only for investment purposes.649 In July 1913 the question of duplicate memberships came up on the agenda again, in a motion by Mr Lax: To instruct the Directors to make official enquiries as to the extent (if any) of duplicate membership in one family occupying the same house and to what extent such duplication (if any) affects Rule 6. (Maximum amount of Members’ Capital) and to report such information to the next quarterly member meeting and if in their opinion alterations are necessary, proposals for such alterations to be submitted at the same time.650 The board looked into the matter, but a comprehensive inquiry into the extent of duplicate memberships was never made, for the directors stated in the January report that they could not recommend the adoption of Mr Lax's proposal. At the quarterly meeting in January, Mr Lax moved a motion that the directors should go on with their investigation into the matters but the motion was defeated.651 Since there was no inquiry, we do not find out about the extent of duplicate membership. Mr Lax’s proposal at least indicates that it existed. What is of interest here, however, is how the limitation to one member per household, combined with established gender attitudes, loaded the dice in favour of husbands. The critical debates about duplicate membership were themselves less than encouraging to women and wives who considered joining the society under their own name. As stated above, the line “…a married woman may be admitted a member” remained in the rules throughout the period studied. In 1952, a rules revision committee proposed that the line be deleted, but the proposal was defeated at a special general meeting in October.652 It is difficult to say how the outcome of this vote should be interpreted. In 1952 – when four women were directors, and when the Women’s Co-operative Guild had kept encouraging its members to join and take part in the activities of the consumer co-operative societies for over half a century – the vote could equally well reflect the strong position of women, par-

––––––––– 649 A lengthy conversation ensued as to several members of one family being admitted to membership with a view of using the society for investment purposes but no amendment to the Rule put to the meeting. Revisions of Rules Committee meeting 18th February 1904, in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27th January 1904 – 7th December 1905. 650 Minutes 209th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1913. We find out that it was Mr Lax, a non- elected member, that moved the motion in the minutes from the 211th Quarterly General Meeting on, 28th January 1914 when he moves a second motion concerning the matter. 651 Directors' Report for the Half-year ended June 6th 1914 and Minutes 211th Quarterly General Mee- ting, 28th January 1914. 652 Revision of rules: Rule 4 “The committee’s proposal to delete the last paragraph of this rule – ‘a married woman may be admitted a member’ was defeated almost unanimously.” Minutes Special General Meeting, 15th October 1952

216 ticularly married women, in the Newcastle Society.653 What they are voting on, however, is an historical artefact, produced by the interplay of society rules and old gender patterns. The situation in Solidar and Seger is different from the Newcastle Society in one crucial respect. Solidar and Seger never provided the sort of beneficial investment and savings opportunities that prompted the Newcastle Society to introduce rules against duplicate membership. We will analyse this more thoroughly in Part Four, in connection with a discussion of economic participation. For the time being, it suffices to bring out a couple of immediate consequences of this difference. First, neither the board of Solidar nor that of Seger had any problem with accepting both wife and husband as members. Second, however, there was no economic incentive for both members of the household to apply for membership: rather than doubling their investment opportunities, because a duplicate membership simply meant a duplication of costs. Husband and wife may both choose to join anyway, for other reasons, but the economic incentives would tend towards a conception of membership based on the household. If rules produced a household conception of membership in the Newcastle Society, the conditions of economic participation produced the same effect in Solidar and Seger. An incident in Seger in 1920 demonstrates that the gender effects of this were probably similar to those in Newcastle, i.e. that it was the husband rather than the wife who was the official member in the household, even in households where both husband and wife were keen co-operators. At the annual general meeting that year, some male members complained about the lack of interest among women for co-operation and the co-operative businesses in Malmö. However, all male members did not complain; some presented solutions. Mr C. Ekelund said, for example, that women should not be forced to take an interest in the co- operative businesses. They should instead be encouraged to take an interest, and to stand for office and become directors. At the same meeting Mrs Anna Ekberg- Åkesson stood for office. She got 67 votes and secured a seat at the board of Se- ger. Mr. Berglund, who topped the election list, got 85 votes.654 Yet, this annual meeting had an aftermath. Two weeks later, an extra board meeting was called, due to a letter where the writer pointed out that Mrs Ekberg- Åkesson was not a member, and therefore could not be elected to the board. Mrs Ekberg-Åkesson did not protest against the statement that she was not a member, and agreed to step down from her office. But she explained that at the annual meeting she had had the impression that it did not matter whether it was the husband or the wife who represented. She does not specify what entity the husband or wife would be representing, but she probably meant the household or family. One of the other directors thought that the president should have informed members at the annual meeting that only members could be elected. Mr Mårtensson, ––––––––– 653 The four women on the board in 1952 were: Mrs. S. Lowes, Mrs F. Ogg, Councillor Mrs. M. P. Broad and Mrs M. Holmes. See Board of Management and Chief Officials Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. in Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services (1952). 654 Protokoll fört vid Kooperativa Föreningen Segers årsmöte den 2/3 1920.

217 who had been present at the annual meeting, said that he had thought about saying something at the time. But, he explained, it had been pointed out that women should be encouraged to stand for office, and therefore he had said nothing. In the end, Mrs Ekberg-Åkesson stepped down and a deputy member – a man – became director in her place.655 No other woman became director in Seger before the amalgamation with Solidar. Mrs Ekeberg-Åkesson no doubt saw her husband’s membership as a household membership, which for most practical purposes it was. And it may be that many other wives had the same idea, and thought it made no difference if it was their name or that of their husband on the share and member certificate. But formally it did matter. If the wife wished to take part in the democratic decision making process, then she had to be a member under her own name. The illustrations above show that gender does make a difference. A formally open membership policy coexists with mechanisms which have favoured husbands over wives. But these mechanisms are subtle, and they affect married women rather than women in general. It is difficult to determine exactly how many wives were members of the Newcastle Society and of Solidar. In the New- castle Society, the names of all members applying for membership are noted at the beginning of the minutes of almost every board meeting. But neither women nor men are presented with their titles, which means that we cannot find out whether the women who applied and were accepted were wives or not. Given the considerable numbers of women that became members from the 1890s onwards, however, the number of married women must also have become fairly substantial. The situation in Solidar is even more difficult to assess. Minutes from board meetings only list member numbers. A rough estimate can nevertheless be gathered via a more indirect route, for there are some requests for withdrawal of membership left in the source material, where names and titles are given. Out of 213 requests for withdrawal of membership between the years 1922-1928, 70 were made by women and 32 of those by married women.656 This means that at least some wives thought it wise to be members in their own right. The most general lesson of this chapter is that both the Newcastle Society and Solidar practised open rather than exclusive membership, and that they did so from the very beginning. Underneath this conclusion lies the recognition that neutral society rules can interact with extra-Societal factors to produce effects on member participation for particular categories. Our discussion of the position of married women in fact serves two functions. On the one hand, it shows in some detail how gender mechanisms operate. On the other hand, it provides an introduction to the notion of household membership, which we will have occasion to get back to. We will now shift focus, from membership policies to the relative weight of the member meetings to which they gained access through their membership.

––––––––– 655 Protokoll styrelsen Seger, 30/3 1920. 656 All requests for withdrawal 1922-1928 in Map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn Diverse handlingar.

218 2. Member meetings and member influence before a routine was established The description of member meetings presented in the introduction to this part portrays the routines which eventually developed within the two societies. Rou- tines, however, are not made in eternity. They evolve, sometimes rapidly but more often over an extended period of time, in the course of an organisation’s history. They are typically the result of a motley set of factors: imitation, codification of increasingly entrenched organisational practices, resolved power struggles, generalised solutions to concrete problems, conscious decisions on matters of principle, tacit adaptation to the most practical solutions, etc. This chapter will take us back to those periods in the organisational histories of the two societies when routines were not yet settled. A closer look at some of the early member meetings reveals that the standing order and the balance of power between member meeting and board were not determined from the outset. Following the early histories of the organisations thus gives us an opportunity to show, with a number of examples, what the balance of power between board and member meeting looked like initially, and how it transformed in the process of finding a routine. Routines settle gradually. It is therefore difficult to state an exact date or period when one can say that they are established. As the following text will show, the degree of difficulty of this endeavour differs between the two societies: it is easier to detect when a change takes place in Solidar than it is in the Newcastle Society. Yet, the point of our exposé is not to determine specific dates. It is rather to investigate what role the member meeting had in the absence of fixed and transparent routines, i.e. when the infant societies were still struggling with the unfamiliar activity of setting up a business. We will start out with an account of the Newcastle Society. The minutes from the founding meeting have not survived, so the first available minutes date from 1862. Thus, the only information we have on the first couple of years must be gathered from the first jubilee history. A consequence of this is that we know nothing about the procedure of this meeting. But we do know something about the items dealt with. There were many practicalities to solve, and the participants at the first meetings had to decide such things as what should be the minimum amount of subscriptions and how much capital must be collected before the co- operative store could be started? The jubilee history does not have much to say as to whether the participants aired reasons of principle for their decision to start up a consumer co-operative society. What it does say is the following: “It was on reading the book [History of Co-operation in Rochdale by Holyoake] just quoted from that the idea of commencing an association for uniting the purchases of their household requirements occurred to a few working cabinet-makers at the close of the year 1860”. Apparently, the Newcastle co-operators used the History of Co-operation in Rochdale for more than inspiration. With so many novel issues to grapple with, Holyoake’s book came in handy as a practical guide on how to start up a co-operative business. Holyoake reports, for example, that the Rochdale pioneers had thought that round about £28 would be just about enough

219 capital to start a co-operative store; the Newcastle co-operators decide upon the very same sum.657 This is what we find out from the jubilee history from 1886. But jubilee histories generally only provide us with edifying accounts of the past. If there were indeed differences of opinion between members in The Mechanics’ Industrial Co-operative Society, it is unlikely that we would find about it in a jubilee history. In this case, there is no other option but to turn to the minutes from member meetings. A glance at the minutes from the 1860s leaves the impression that members of the committee had considerable influence at the member meetings. Members of the committee proposed and seconded propositions, and they took initiatives to new services and other developments. At the same time, however, the member meeting was formally quite powerful: the committee had to get the consent of the member meeting in many questions of management in the early days. There is a reason why the committeemen, despite the extensive formal powers invested in the member meeting, dominated in the proceedings. Consider what the situation was like during the first years of the Newcastle Society. This was before the society had established any branches. There was only one store, and it was open in the evenings. Instead of hiring staff from the outside, those who sat on the committee also served in the store. They would combine their role as decision- makers with an executive role as shop assistants and buyers. That position gave members of the committee an information advantage over all other members, and in the early 1860s the committeemen literally ran the show. All in all, there is a precarious balance of power between the committee and the member meeting. The committee had the power of initiative by virtue of its superior insight into day-to-day business, rules and procedures. However, the member meeting’s extensive authority, even in management details, could potentially tie the hands of the committee. The points we have made above need vindication and empirical illustrations. We will provide them in the form of examples. The first one concerns the issue whether the society should build a proper store to replace the small original premises, and it gives a flavour of how dominating committeemen could be in the discussion at member meetings. At a quarterly meeting in March 1863, Mr Steele, a member of the committee, proposed that they should build a proper store of their own. He pointed out that: “…we should almost be ashamed of our humble little store with so little accom- modations, not even a place for Committee to meet in for the transaction of usual Store business”. In response to this suggestion, Mr Towart, who was also a committee member, replied that it was a good idea to build a store, but that the society was still too small for such a venture.658 The matter was brought up again at the following meeting, when Mr Steele proposed that they should create a building fund. Once again, Mr Towart replied. He suggested that the question should be tabled until the next quarterly meeting, and his suggestion was seconded ––––––––– 657 A Brief Account…, (1886), p. 1, quote also p. 1. 658 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 4th March 1863.

220 by yet another committee member. Mr Towart’s amendment was carried, but Steele did not give up and proposed a second amendment: “That a sub- committee be appointed to consider the best mode of rearing capital to [?] building or furnishing premises for the society’s business, and [that] he [be] empowered to take the names of persons willing to contribute, and to take subscriptions if advised.” This amendment was seconded by Mr Clyde and then carried.659 The story so far is a good example of much of what went on at member meetings at this stage. The initiative comes from a member of the committee, and objections to it are raised by another committeeman. As the debate unfolds, it pre- supposes a substantial amount of knowledge, not just about the financial status of the society but also of the proper way of launching or stalling initiatives and counter-initiatives. The continuation of the story underscores this point. As Mr Steele’s last proposal was formulated, it suggested that the individual members of the society, rather than the society as such, should contribute to a building fund. However, at the following quarterly meeting in October, the sub-committee recommended that the society should take five shares in a building society. This recommendation was approved, but it was also pointed out that this may not be in accordance with society rules. The secretary was thus asked to turn to the Reg- ister of Friendly Societies to inquire if it was possible to alter the rules. The reply he received was negative, which put an end to the first attempt to secure central premises. As it happened, however, the issue of new central premises was resolved anyway. In the beginning of 1864, the society was offered a tenancy of a house in Newgate Street. After a brief round of negotiations, where the society demanded that the house be refurbished as a store, it could move into the new premises in May 1864.660 This latter turn of events further underlines the importance of society rules. Rules confine action, and, as we will see in chapters to come, an appeal to rule technicalities can be used as trumps. A thorough knowledge of rules and procedures is an asset, and committeemen are in a privileged position to attain it. But it should also be emphasised that committee members did not simply seize the initiative, for it was also forced on them, as members were not always vigilant about keeping up with the development of their society. A second example helps to elucidate this point. The minutes from member meetings rarely give the number of members present at the meeting. Yet, to the extent that we can use voting figures as approxi- mations of the number of attendees, we can sometimes get an estimate of how many members were there. Using this method of counting, it turns out that only 19 members were present at the quarterly meeting in 1863 which we have just visited.661 That low level of member attendance was not a singular event. The same story repeats itself a few years later, at the beginning of 1866, when the society was discussing the prospects of starting a butcher business. Opinions were divided among the membership, and it was therefore decided to arrange a special ––––––––– 659 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 29th July 1863. 660 A Brief Account…, pp. 3-4. 661 Minutes of General Quarterly Meeting, 29th July 1863.

221 member meeting in February in order to discuss the matter. Alas, only 19 people showed up for the meeting. This time, however, it was declared that 19 people did not make up a sufficient number to constitute a legal meeting. The rules, it was pointed out, stipulated that there had to be at least 20 members present for a meeting to have the competence to make decisions. It is not clear whether this was a new rule, drawn up some time between 1863 and 1866, or whether it had been there all along but only applied to special meetings.662 Regardless of what might be the case at hand, the result was that no decision could be taken, and a new special meeting had to be called. It was held on 14 March 1866, with 43 members present. This time members – several of whom had experience of the butchery trade – spoke their piece on whether the society should start up a butchery business and, if so, how one should go about starting such a business. These members were knowledgeable in an area where the society, and thus the committeemen, did not as yet have prior experience to draw on. They came out in favour of the plan, albeit with some internal differences. Mem- bers of the committee nevertheless had a say in the final draft. After a long discussion, Mr Steele proposed that the society should open a butcher business before the summer, but that they should wait until August if this attempt was not successful. His argument drew on the knowledge peculiar to a member of the committee: commencing the butcher business in the summer would give it a bad start, and, he explained, it is always bad for the society if a new service gets a poor start. Mr Steele’s proposition was seconded by Mr Clyde, who had now been elected member of the committee. The proposition was carried, with 24 members voting for and 19 against.663 The committeemen in the 1860s dominated member meetings of the Newcas- tle Society by virtue of being initiators – but they had to have the support of a sufficient number of members, both to get their propositions carried and to become elected. It is very likely that the different committeemen had their own support groups amongst the membership, and hence that it was important to rally the supporters both when it was time for election to the committee/board and when questions were to be decided at quarterly or special general meetings. One indication of this is found in the comments from Mr Walton, a former member of the committee, who had recently lost his seat. At the January quarterly meeting in 1868, he complained that the election of committeemen had taken place so late at the last meeting that all his friends had left, and that this was why he lost his seat on the committee. The meeting then re-elected Mr Walton, and he was rein- stated in the committee.664 In this particular case, it is even possible to determine from which group Mr Walton derived his support. He was the representative of a group of members who had recently joined the society, and who all worked at

––––––––– 662 On the issue of how many members had to attend a meeting for it to be a legal meeting see A Bri- ef Account…, (1886), p. 5. If this rule stating that there had to be 20 members present had been introduced after 1863 or if it was not a rule then and the author of the jubilee history refers to what was a legal meeting in 1886 when the jubilee history was written is difficult to say. 663 Minutes Special Meeting of the Members, 14th March 1866. 664 Jim Lamb Chronological Register 1868.

222 the Elswick Works.665 The notion of the committeeman as a representative for some segment of the membership could indeed be one additional reason why members tended to hand over the power of initiative to members of the committee. Our examples so far have mainly been used to illustrate that the committeemen had an advantage over the member meeting. It is now time to qualify this assertion, with the aid of additional examples. What gave the members of the committee an advantage was their superior insight into day-to-day business and their knowledge of rules and procedures. This, however, must be contrasted to the far-reaching formal authority which was vested in the member meeting, even, as we have pointed out above, in management details. The committee needed the consent of the members in many questions, and the members were concerned with how the capital of their society was used. The following two examples give evidence of such concern. They show the extensive formal authority which the member meeting had in the 1860s, and they underline how potentially precarious the balance of power could be between the committee and the member meeting. As we learned in Part Two, the Newcastle Society established its first branch shop in Scotswood Road in 1862. Opening up a branch in Scotswood Road had brought a new practice: the store in Nelson Street was operated by committee members, but staff had to be hired for the new store. According to the jubilee history from 1886, the committeemen, and those in favour of establishing this store, saw the branch as a means to recruit new members. It is a relatively long way from Nelson Street, where the first store was situated, and the western part of the city. A branch shop would reduce the walking distance for shopping members.666 But the expectation of a great increase in membership and sales came to nought. It was not that the store on Scotswood Road sold at a loss, but as of October 1863 the net profit was only 9d. per £ of sale. This state of affairs was the topic of a discussion at the October quarterly meeting in 1863. Mr Clyde – who, at this point, had not yet been elected to the committee – argued that working expenses could be reduced if the store in Scotswood Road was closed and replaced by a delivery service. He also thought that a delivery service would be more convenient for all members, i.e. not just for the inhabitants in this particular area.667 Mr Scott, another member, agreed with Mr Clyde. If the society adopted the strategy proposed by Mr Clyde, Mr Scott added, the dividend would increase and people would be encouraged to join the society. These opinions were not at all in line with the views of the committee. Mr Towart, who was on the committee, objected and referred to its recent report about public confidence in the Co-operative movement in Newcas- tle. Confidence in the Co-operative movement had been shaken as it was, and he thought that the closing of the store on Scotswood Road would make things worse. Moreover, he pointed out, the average sales in the Scotswood Branch had ––––––––– 665 See discussion at the end of this chapter. 666 A Brief Account…, (1886), p. 3. 667 Mr. Clyde was elected officer on the committee in 1865. See Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July 1865.

223 increased by £1 per week during the last month. Mr Steele, another committeeman, agreed with Mr Towart. Despite the objections of the committee members, the suggestion to close the branch store and start a delivery service was put to the vote. And it won.668 In this case, the authority and knowledge of the committeemen had no effect on the outcome of the vote. The committee had to start over again, bringing down what they had built up and developing a new replacement service. A second example concerns the relationship between the Newcastle Society and the emerging federal co-operative organisation that eventually became the CWS. The formal authority of the member meeting is not only manifest in specific cases where the meeting overrides the line of action proposed by the committee. It also shows itself in the fact that, in a wide variety of matters, the committee did not have free hands to act on its own. It needed the mandate of the member meeting. The sequence of events we are about to follow is an instance of the committee being reduced to the role of a messenger. At the meeting in July 1863, Mr Steele presented a proposal from the North- ern Union of Co-operative Stores on the question of starting up a wholesale general store. The members who were present at the meeting received the message, and, in response to it, voted for the following resolution: …the Members of this Society are of opinion that the advantages that the Co-operative Stores would derive from a Wholesale General Store are decidedly superior to those offered by an Agency and in the advent of it being decided to establish the former, the Society will Subscribe towards its funds and otherwise support it providing its government and constitution are approved by the Society.669 The meeting also decided on a suggestion as to how capital should be secured for the proposed wholesale: …the Society suggest to the Council that the most feasible and equitable mode of creating capital for a wholesale store would be for each Society to contribute a proportionate amount based upon its sales during the Quar- ter previous to the wholesale store being established.670 By the time of the October quarterly meeting in the same year, the society had received a more detailed proposition from the Northern Union of Co-operative Stores about how a co-operative wholesale should be established. That proposal deflected from the wishes expressed at the latest member meeting in terms of the financial plan. It suggested instead that each society joining the wholesale should pay £1 for each member of the society.671 The member meeting opposed to the

––––––––– 668 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1863. 669 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 29th July 1863. 670 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, July 29th 1863. 671 See Circular from the Northern Union of Co-operative Stores inserted by Minutes Quarterly Gen- eral Meeting, 28th October 1863. It was also stated in this circular that the Societies that joined could pay the shares, that is the £1 per member, by way of instalments of 5 shillings each at inter-

224 suggested way of raising capital, on the grounds of it being inequitable, and it was agreed that the society should not join the proposed wholesale unless they could do it under the conditions that had been stated at the July quarterly meeting.672 There is no reason to suppose that the committee was in disagreement with the statement of the member meeting. The point is, however, that this type of questions had to go through the member meeting. It contrasts starkly with the situation in Solidar, where the very objects of the society withdrew the relation to the federal organisation from arbitration at member meetings. The member meeting of the Newcastle Society had a say in much more detailed matters as well. We will give examples of this in other contexts throughout the book. For the time being, and for the sake of completeness, we should also follow the story of CWS through to the end. The North of England Co-operative Wholesale Agency and Depot Society Ltd. was in fact established in 1863. The Newcastle Society did not join at the time, and it took some time before the subject came up on the agenda of a quarterly meeting again. Then, in April 1867, the question of joining the Co- operative Wholesale Society (CWS) – or the North of England Co-operative Wholesale Agency and Depot Society Ltd., as it was still called – was once again up for discussion. This time, too, the answer was negative, and the Member Meeting resolved “..that at present, not to join the Manchester Wholesale Co- operative Society”.673 The choice of wording, “the Manchester Wholesale Co- operative Society”, had a critical edge: it reflects on the fact that the leaders of the wholesale society in Manchester had recently decided that the wholesale should not set up branches in Newcastle and Glasgow.674 Two years later, the committee instructed the grocery sub-committee to make deals with the Co- operative Wholesale Society. But that was as far as the mandate of the committee went, and the Society would not join the wholesale yet.675 Eventually, however, the society did join. The decision was taken at a quarterly meeting in 1872. The actual affiliation was delayed until 1873, due to a change in the rules of the CWS.676 Let us, then, summarise our account of the early days of the Newcastle Soci- ety, and of the balance of power between committee and member meeting in the 1860s. committeemen gained power of initiative by virtue of their accumulated experience from dealing with rules, procedures, and day-to-day business. The member meeting, on the other hand, retained the formal authority to decide the outcome of a wide variety of matters. This is the constellation that becomes transferred and transformed in the course of finding a routine. Chapter 3 will pick up the thread by showing how the formal rules for the democratic decision-

vals of three months and that the interest on capital and dividends received by the Societies from the Wholesale could be applied in payment of subsequent instalments. 672 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1863. 673 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1867. 674 Cole, (1947), p. 145. 675 Jim Lamb's Chronological Register 1869. 676 Jim Lamb's Chronological Register 1872.

225 making process developed from the end of the 19th century and throughout the 20th century; Chapter 4 returns us to the issue of how the member meetings developed in practice. Before we do so, it remains to paint a corresponding picture of the formative years of Solidar in Malmö. As we traverse time and space to go to Malmö in 1907, the conditions we find are bound to be different from those of the Newcastle of the 1860s. We have dealt extensively with such differences in Part Two. But the insecurities and inde- terminacies involved in starting up a co-operative business of one’s own are there in both cases. Before a routine has become established, things do not run smoothly and frictionless. This is certainly true of Solidar. During its first years of existence, Solidar’s member meetings were quite turbulent. To understand why, it is instructive to remind ourselves of the peculiar initial form of the Society, being a combined worker and consumer co-operative. A tension between producer and consumer interests was thereby built into the organisational structure. The dual character of the society created a rift that divided the board, and the contentions thus generated spilled over into the member meeting. Before a working routine for member meetings had been properly established, the quarrels at board meetings continued at member meetings, and members took sides with different fractions of the board. Alternatively, as we shall see, the rift could be between the board and the member meeting. Indeed, these structurally induced conflicts initially prevented a routine from settling. During the first four years, 1908 to 1911, shareholders were called to several extra meetings, in excess of the regular annual general meeting in March and the half-yearly meeting in August.677 Yet, this situation was perceived to be untenable, and in the end a decision had to be made in order to make the business of the society more regular. In 1910, Solidar decided on a system with two general meetings per annum.678 The account we are about to give of Solidar’s first years follows the same pattern as our discussion of the early developments in the Newcastle Society. It proceeds by way of example, illustrating various complications resulting from Soli- dar’s standing as a combined worker and consumer co-operative. We shall begin at the heart of the matter, with the power balance between consumer and pro- ––––––––– 677 Protokoll hållet vid möte med andelsegarne den 9 februari 1908. Protokoll andelsegarestämma 25/3 1908 (This was the Annual General Meeting). Protokoll hållet vid möte med andelsegarne den 26 juli 1908. Protokoll öfver kooperativa Bageri Föreningen Solidars möte Söndagen den 8/11. Pro- tokoll vid extra andelsstämma 22 november 1908. Protokoll fört vid extra andelsstämma 31/1 1909. No annual society meeting in March. Protokoll fört vid extra andelsstämma med delägare i Koope- rativa Bageriföreningen Solidar upa Malmö 25 juli 1909. Protokoll fört vid extra andelstämma med delägare i Kooperativa Bageriföreninge Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö den 6 januari 1910. Protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen ”Solidars” ordinarie årsstämma den 19 mars 1910 (This was the Annu- al General Meeting). Protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen ”Solidars” fortsatta årsstämma den 28 mars 1910. Protokoll fört vid ordinarie andelsstämma 14/8 1910 (half-yearly general meeting). Protokoll Solidars extra stämma söndag 4/12 1910. Protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen Soli- dars ordinarie årsstämma den 12 mars 1911. Protokoll fört wid Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Soli- dars u. P. a. ajounerade andelsegarestämma söndagen den 2 April 1911. Protokoll fört vid Koopera- tiva Bageriföreningen Solidars andeldegarestämma söndag 20 aug 1911. 678 Protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen ”Solidars” fortsatta årsstämma den 28 mars 1910.

226 ducer interests in the society. That balance shifted several times within a comparatively short period of time. Between 1907 and the end of 1908, the board of Solidar consisted of seven directors. Five of them were on the board in their capacity as workers. They were bakers in the employ of Solidar, and the majority of the board thus represented producers rather than consumers. This was soon about to change. In November 1908 the number of workers on the board was reduced to three, and hence the lay members were suddenly in majority.679 At a member meeting in January 1910, the number of positions on the board was reduced to five, only two of them reserved for workers in the employ of the society.680 However, only two months later the issue was up for debate again and after a long discussion it was decided to go back to a board with seven members with three seats reserved for workers.681 This condition lasted until the revision of rules in 1916 when workers were shut out of the board altogether. In the rules from 1916, it is stated that no person who is employed by the society can become a member of the board.682 From 1907 to 1916 there is thus a successive reduction of seats for workers in the employ of the society. This solution relieved contra- dictions, but the process leading up to it was clearly both the product and the cause of tensions between producer and consumer interests. We will have more to say about this development further on, both in this chapter and in Chapter 4. For the moment, however, we shall instead listen in on a few debates at Solidar’s member meetings. We are concerned, first, with the chops and changes in connection with the issue whether to buy or rent a bakery. As the reader may recall, baking bread and pastries was not only the main but in fact the sole activity of Solidar in the initial phases. The society was founded by bakers, and fancy bread and biscuits were the products it offered. It was not long before the original premises became too confining for the expanding business, and the society had to look for a new bakery. The question was whether to rent or buy one. In February 1908, the member meeting opted for the former solution: the majority of members voted for renting.683 Yet, at the following board meeting, it was decided that the society should buy instead.684 The society had two incompatible decisions on the same issue. Now, the crux of the matter was that the board, which consisted of a majority of workers, did not have the authority to make that decision. The split between the board and the member meeting nevertheless left the question hanging in limbo, and discussions continued throughout 1908. Not until the annual meeting in March 1909 could the matter be settled temporarily: it was decided that a bakery

––––––––– 679 Protokoll extra andelsstämma 22 november 1908. 680 Protokoll fört vid extra andelstämma med delägare i Kooperativa Bageriföreninge Solidar u. p. a. i Malmö den 6 januari 1910. 681 Protokoll fortsatta årsstämma 28/3 1910. 682 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a. i Malmö 1916. 683 Protokoll hållet vid möte med andelsegarne den 9 februari 1908. 684 Protokoll styrelsemöte 4 mars 1908.

227 at Ystadsgatan be rented and refurbished.685 The tug-of-war between the board and the member meeting thus delayed the search for a place to rent, and it created confusion as to the authority of the board. It is perhaps significant that, by the time the society could agree on a temporary solution, the workers on the board had been reduced to a minority position: instead of five out of seven, they were now only three out of seven. The example illustrates some of the difficulties of having a combined worker and consumer co-operative. The bakery issue had not been resolved once and for all, but the continuation of the story is less fraught with conflicts. It re-emerged on the agenda of member meetings. The advocates of renting bakeries had the opinion that the society had too little share capital, and capital in reserve, to afford the project of building a bakery. And they pointed out that it was a risky endeavour to invest so much money in a building. The board, and the section of the membership who supported the idea to build a bakery, were more concerned with the future expansion of Solidar’s business. To that end, the society needed a purpose-built bakery. This was especially desirable if the society was to produce many different kinds of bread. In November 1911, those in favour of building managed to get support for the idea of establishing a building fund.686 Then, in 1914, a committee was appointed to inquire about the possibilities to purchase land and build a bakery.687 And soon afterwards, in 1915, the half-yearly meeting took the decision to purchase land in the district called Oket, situated next to Folkets Park in Malmö.688 The proponents of building a bakery had thus won – this time, however, by convincing the member meeting rather than by obtaining a decision from the board. Another set of examples highlights a different type of problem which results from having a combined worker and consumer co-operative. With such an arrangement, employees can have double, nay triple, roles in the society. Apart from being employed by the society, they are also members of it, and some of them can, moreover, have a seat on the board. One consequence of this is that it may prove difficult to contain personal disagreements within the bounds of one of these roles. They are liable to spread over into the member meeting. The most clear-cut example of this is the drawn out vendetta between the baker Rickard Sandholm and the bakery manager August Kroon. Both men were also members of Solidar, and both were for a time, in 1908, members of the board.689 Whatever the reason might have been for the discord between the two employees, they

––––––––– 685 Protokoll årsstämma andelsägare 7 mars 1909. For the discussion leading up to this decision see Protokoll extra andelsstämma Koop Bageriföreningen Solidar, 22 december 1908. Protokoll extra andelsstämma Koop Bageriföreningen Solidar, 31 januari 1909. 686 Protokoll andelsägarmöte Koop Bageriföreningen Solidar, 16 november 1911. 687 See Styrelse- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1914 Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidar, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940. 688 Protokoll halfårsstämma Koop Bageriföreningen Solidar, 29 september 1915. 689 Members of the first board of Solidar were: Rickard Sandholm, August Kroon, Karl Kroon, Jöns Jönsson, G. Norberg, (all bakers), Joel Sadin and A. Nicklasson (both lay members). Gruveman, (1933), p. 15.

228 took every opportunity to act it out at the board and at member meetings.690 Other people were drawn into their various conflicts, solicitated for support by one of the two bakers. When personal antipathies are allowed to be played out in this manner, it is difficult to ensure a properly functioning, formal decision- making process. Joel Sandin, a delivery man, was among those who became involved in the conflict. He was a supporter of Kroon, albeit not a very reliable one. Sandin had the same background as the two combatants described above: employee, member, and one-time member of the board. Interestingly enough, he was initially a lay member of the board, but then hired as a delivery man in March 1908.691 He would himself become the centre of attention in another context, when he was later discharged from this job. His case serves to illustrate a second consequence of the conflation of roles. For under these circumstances, the employment and discharge of personnel become a delicate matter for the society to handle – and such issues, too, might end up at the member meeting. Sandin was perceived to be a troublesome employee, who neglected his duties. The opinion of some directors was even that he was working against the society. After several attempts to get rid of him, the majority of the board had finally decided to discharge him with immediate effect. Because the matter was taken up by the delivery men’s union and became a matter for an arbitration board, it also ended up on the agenda of a member meeting. The directors who wished to discharge Sandin thus had to defend their action at a member meeting in August 1910. And so they did, claiming that “[Sandin] had always been a black sheep and a nightmare for Soli- dar”, and had to be discharged. The members at the meeting were asked to support the proposition of the board, otherwise the board would resign. A long discussion took place where both supporters and opponents of the proposition spoke up. In the end, the board got the support they wished for. However, one member,

––––––––– 690 A few examples suffice to give an idea of the lengthy, and often quite petty, conflict: At a member meeting in February 1908 Sandholm propose that he should go to Gefle after he had been to the board meeting of the trade union that organised bakers. In Gefle he would study how the co- operative bakery Alfa had developed. He wished for Solidar to cover the travelling costs and expenses during that day. Kroon and J. Jönsson protested and Sandholm did not get any support for his study visit. Protokoll hållet vid möte med andelsegarne den 9/2 1908. At a board meeting in March Sandholm make a reservation against Kroon and Henning Andersson lending Solidar’s horse to move some furniture. Protokoll styrelsemöte 11/3 1908. Then Sandholm and Kroon applied for the position of bakery manager of the Bakery and Kroon had gotten the position. At a member meeting in March 1908 Mr Rosén protested against this decision since Sandholm had offered to put aside 5 kronor every week until he had 500 kronor to buy shares in Solidar for. Despite this offer and without a debate the board had employed Kroon. And the board had put in an advertisement about the job as bakery manager in the paper as they should have. Protokoll andelsegarestämma 25/3 1908. 691 Protokoll styrelsemöte 4/3 1908. Joel Sandin together with August Kroon, who was also a member of the board at the time, were both employed, Sandin as a delivery man and Kroon as the manager of the bakery in March 1908. See Malmöhus läns landskanslis arkiv CIII baa vol 5, blad 1721. See also Gruveman, (1933), p. 15.

229 Mr K. H. Widén, handed in his reservation against the decision to debate the question, and against the vote of confidence which the board had received.692 Taken as an ensemble, the cases we have cited above bear witness to the complications generated by being a combined worker and consumer co-operative, from which much of the turbulence at member meetings derives. Our last example from Solidar is different. It concerns the society’s relation to the KF federal organisation. Unlike the examples we have dealt with so far, this issue spawned no real controversy. Yet, it played a part in the gradual reduction of worker influence in Solidar and in the eventual transformation into a pure consumer co- operative society. At an annual general meeting in March 1908, Mr Karnegie693, who was also a member in Seger, suggested that Solidar should join KF as soon as the society had been registered. The meeting agreed.694 This decision, however, had consequences which may not have been foreseen at the time. If Solidar was to join KF, the society had to oblige with model rules issued by the federal organisation. Thus, the society embarked upon a two-year process of working out revisions of the rules and in 1910 Solidar could finally join KF. There were no major protests against the successive revision of rules. The only reservations that were aired, from three of the members, came at a special meeting in January 1910 and concerned the decision to reduce the number of board members from seven to five.695 But as we know, this decision was rescinded only two months later, when the number of board members went back to seven again. An additional attempt to alter the balance between workers and lay members in the society was made with the proposal that employees should receive a raise in wages instead of a fixed percentage of the profit. This proposal was apparently a hot issue since it was decided to drop the matter and not take it to a vote.696 The revisions were nevertheless consequential. They set a new framework for the development of the power balance between producer and consumer interests, entailing, among other things, a change in the constellation of the board from worker majority to worker minority. Solidar’s association with KF continued to alter the framework. KF increasingly focused on consumer co-operatives, and in 1914 the federal organisation resolved not to admit worker co-operatives. Those worker co-operatives which had already joined were still welcome to KF, but the emphases of its activities, and in the new model rules it issued, shifted decidedly ––––––––– 692 Protokoll fört vid Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidars” u.p.a. i Malmö ordinarie andelsstäm- ma den 14/8 1910. The quote “(hr Sandin) alltid varit en svart fläck och en mara som ridit Solidar” is taken from this meeting. See also the following minutes for examples on meetings when Joel Sandin’s behaviour was up for discussion. Protokoll andelsägarstämma 8/11 1908. Protokoll styrel- semöte 18/5 1909. Protokoll styrelse samt representanter ur Varuutkörarnasavdelnings styrelse 10/9 1909. Protokoll ordinare årsstämma 19/3 1910. 693 This way of spelling the name in the minutes from the meeting in March 1908 was probably not correct because I suspect that this is the same Mr Carnegie, that is Carnegie with a C that I have come across in the minutes from Seger. 694 Protokoll andelsegarestämma 25 mars 1908. 695 Protokoll fört vid extra andelstämma med delägarna i Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar, 6/1 1910. 696 Protokoll fortsatta årsstämma 28/3 1910.

230 towards consumer co-operation. This was also the road taken by Solidar. By 1916, no employees were allowed on the board, and by 1920 the transformation into a consumer co-operative was completed. Let us now summarise the findings of this chapter. We have dealt with the infant stages of the two societies, i.e. at a time when routines had yet to settle and when the societies were struggling with the unfamiliar task of setting up a co- operative business. Some guidance was available, in the form of experience from other co-operatives, but many solutions had to be worked out along the way. Partly as a result of this, the balance of power between the board and the member meeting was precarious in both societies, albeit in different ways. In Solidar, the problems associated with organisational infancy were aggravated by it being a combined worker and consumer co-operative. The society did not have a functioning system of power balance, the constitution of the board went through rapid and drastic changes, and there was a conflation of roles which allowed personal grievances to penetrate member and board meetings. The culmination came in connection with a question which we have not dealt with: in 1911 the question of appointing an office manager came up on the agenda, followed by a long debate. When this conflict had been settled, member meetings calmed down, and a routine was successively established. How this came about, however, is something that we will return to in Chapter Four. The Newcastle Society, too, had a complex and potentially precarious power situation to contend with. The member meeting was invested with considerable formal powers, while the members of the board had the power of initiative, much by virtue of their superior overview of day-to-day business, rules, and procedures. During the early years, which we have described here, the two societies were comparatively small, potentially vulnerable, and lacking established routines. There was no doubt an internal bond holding this configuration of characteristics together. Further along the line of organisational history, the two societies had grown considerably. They had become less vulnerable, and their routines had become entrenched. To bring out the consequences of these respective situations, even for quite practical issues of society business, it is instructive to quote one last illustration. In 1867, the committee of The Mechanics’ Industrial Co-operative Society was approached by a group of workers in the Elswick Works. They explained that they had discussed starting a new co-operative society in Scotswood, but that they would refrain from doing so if the Newcastle Society promised to once again establish a branch in Scotswood Road. Instead of getting a new competitor, they proposed, some 90 people would instead join the society. Small and vulnerable as the Newcastle Society was, another competing co-operative in the city could be troublesome, and they yielded to the demands of the soliciting non- members. We have already encountered the spokesman for the Elswick workers: it was Mr Walton, the board member who at one point lost his seat because his friends had left the meeting. The point is, however, that his friends formed a suf-

231 ficiently closely knit group to allow Walton to assume a place on the board in 1868, thus securing considerable representation for a group who had recently been non-members.697 The outcome of these events contrasts with a similar incident almost 30 years later. In 1894, a group of residents in Scotswood village – a village with about 1,000 inhabitants – wrote to the board of the Newcastle Society asking for a branch store in their village. These non-members received a negative reply. In the middle of the 1890s the Newcastle Society had branches in both the east and west part of Newcastle, but the board rejected the suggestion to establish a branch in Scotswood village, with the motivation that trade was likely to be insufficient. Most inhabitants in Scotswood village already traded with the Blay- don Society’s store in Lemington.698 It is not only the outcome that differs. In the 1890s, the society had become an established institution in Newcastle. No longer small and vulnerable, deals like the one made by the Elswick workers in the 1860s were no longer feasible. The fear of emerging competitors was, if not a thing of the past, at least much less urgent. Groups of non-members were able to ask for a branch, but they could not create the sort of quasi-blackmail situation which was decisive in the case from the 1860s. Both the Newcastle Society and Solidar expanded dramatically in the decades following their foundation, and the expansion was accompanied by a crystallisa- tion of routines. The formal aspect of this development is the topic of the next chapter.

––––––––– 697 Mr Steel had heard rumours about a group of Elswick workers discussing to start up a co- operative store. He had heard that they were going to have a meeting on Wednesday evening and it had been hinted to him that if they were to send a deputation from their committee they might be able to convince these workers to join The Mechanics’ Industrial Co-operative Society. Minutes Committee Meeting, 5th March 1867. Some weeks later Mr Walton, as representative of the Els- wick workers, came to the meeting of the Committee and stated that the 80-90 Elswick workers would join if a new store is opened in Scotswood again. Minutes Committee Meeting, 26th March 1867. The Committee decided to rent a store in Hind Street in Scotswood. Minutes Committee Me- eting, 2nd April 1867. Two weeks later the Committee received a list with 90 persons applying for membership in the Society. Minute Committee Meeting, 16th April 1867. All of these 90 persons were then accepted as members. Minutes Committee Meeting, 24th April 1867. 698 “(NB. Reference in the minutes to an application from some residents in Scotswood Village (which had 1000 inhabitants) for a branch shop to be established. This was rejected as the trade was likely to be insufficient because many in the village traded with the Blaydon Society’s store in Le- mington).” Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1894.

232 3. Establishing a routine: the formal structure of the member meeting

3.1 What the rules tell us and what sources tell us about rules Rules and standing orders are, in a sense, the formal backbone of co-operative societies. At any given point in time, they present society members with restrictions, requirements, and resources regarding society participation and governance. They regulate the conditions for elections, specify the necessary qualifications of candidates standing for office, detail the procedures for handing in propositions and protests, and determine the relative authority of the member meeting and the board. Rules exist from the very beginning. Yet, they also undergo changes over time. In both our societies, there is continual revision. An inquiry into the rules of the two societies thus gives us an opportunity to capture the transformation of the power balance between the board and the member meeting, as it becomes codified in the framework of rules. This is not to say that every rule change derives from a power struggle. On the contrary, such changes may originate from overriding changes in national legislation, from an effort to weed out inconsis- tencies and malfunctions in the rule structure, or from some of the factors, listed in the introduction to the previous chapter, which can be responsible for changes in routines. Regardless of what caused them, however, new or revised rules nevertheless codify a particular balance of power, and they, rather than those they supersede, will set the framework for future dealings. This chapter, then, will serve a double purpose. It provides, first, a description of the rules that circumscribe and guide concrete activities at and around member meetings. This information is needed if we are to understand what goes on, and thus gives information which is necessary for subsequent chapters. But what we set out to convey here is not merely a store of information for future reference. It is also fecund material in its own right, furnishing us, among other things, with an account of alterations in the formal framework which are indices of a changing balance of power in the societies. Having said this, we must also point to some limitations in the source material. In Solidar, available materials allow us to follow the process by studying the different versions of rules from 1908 to 1970. This, however, is not the case in the Newcastle Society. The first surviving set of rules from the Newcastle Soci- ety dates from 1905, which leaves us with a gap for the first 45 years. It is possible to remedy this impasse, but only to a very limited extent. For example, standing orders were printed in 1902. They add to our understanding of how a routine was established, but they do not narrow the time-gap very much. Moreover, the minutes from member meetings during the first forty-five years contain references to changes in rules and routines. In some cases, this has allowed us to make inferences about specific rules. Usually, however, they are only short comments about lines or words being deleted in certain paragraphs. And since

233 we do not have access to the exact wording of the paragraph in its entirety, such scraps of information are exceedingly difficult to decipher. I have attempted to piece together the available evidence as far as possible, but I have refrained from going far back in the history of the Newcastle Society. Yet, we are not left empty-handed. After all, we have access to the rules from 1905 onwards, and if Chapters 2, 3 and 4 are read in tandem, we get a good picture of how the balance of power between board and member meeting evolved. With these caveats properly pointed out, it is safe to proceed with our account of rules and rule change. We will start with the Newcastle Society.

3.2 Rules and standing orders – the Newcastle Society The right to vote is the first basic right which must be bestowed upon a member if she or he is to partake in the democratic decision-making process. From the early 1860s to the beginning of the 20th century members in the Newcastle Soci- ety gained their right to vote at member meetings once they had paid for one £1 share. After the revision of rules in 1905, the sum was increased to three £1 shares and remained so throughout the period under study.699 Acquiring the required amount of shares was a threshold you had to pass, but more shares did not increase your voting strength. The co-operative principle is one member, one vote. Once the threshold was passed, you could go to the member meetings and make your voice heard. One task of the member meeting was to elect officials. Elections are hedged in by rules, defining who is eligible to stand for office, and how many officers should be elected, etc. These rules are not written in stone, they are sometimes subject to revision. We get a sense of the nature of the rules, and of the discussions, if we listen in on an adjourned special general meeting in October 1896, where several rules were discussed and revised. One issue at this meeting was the procedure for electing scrutineers. Scrutineers managed and supervised the election of directors to the board – as the committee was now called – and they were important functionaries for the election of directors and other kinds of voting at member meetings. It was proposed, and accepted, that a list of members nominated as candidates for the office of scrutineer should be exhibited at the society’s premises and principal places of business six days before a quarterly member meeting. Even if we do not know how this proposition changed the previous procedure, it is indicative of a well developed system of checks and balances, and of a concern for keeping the election of these functions transparent. Another set of issues concerned the composition of the board. First, it was decided that the number of directors be increased from 12 to 13, one of them being the chairman. If this proposition did not spawn controversy at the meeting, a second, and related, suggestion was apparently greeted with less enthusiasm. This was the proposition that, from now on, the chairman should be elected from and by the board. The same suggestion had been up for discussion as early as 1891, but had been dismissed by the member meeting. Minutes from the special gen- ––––––––– 699 See Part Two, Section 2.2.

234 eral meeting in 1896 do not express clearly whether the proposition was carried or lost this time, but since the printed rules of 1905 still state that the chairman is elected by the members, it is unlikely that it was carried.700 In other words: members were not willing to transfer the power of electing the chairman from the member meeting to the board. As we shall see more of below, members of the Newcastle Society guarded their right to elect officers. Yet, the members were not free to elect whoever they wanted. There were rules for who could stand for office as director, treasurer, chairman, and secretary. The special general meeting in October 1896 touched upon this issue as well, as it considered the following amendment: No person shall be eligible for any office who has not been a member of the society for two years or who has less than three fully paid shares standing to his credit in the books of the society or whose purchases average less than £20 per annum. No directors having served two consecutive years upon the board shall be eligible for re-election until the expiration of twelve months after their term of office. A member holding any office shall not be eligible for nomination as a candidate for any other office in the Society unless he resigns from the office he holds on or before the date fixed for closing the nominations.701 These were certainly not the only restrictions on eligibility. Let us, however, stay with the formulation in the amendment to see what it reveals. The requirement that a prospective member of the board should possess a certain amount of shares, and that they should purchase for a certain sum with the society, was a device to ensure that board members would also be loyal society customers. The necessity of this device was not questioned, but opinions were divided at the meeting as to the minimum sum for purchases. A counter-proposal was made that purchases for £16 per annum would suffice. Yet, the original suggestion of £20 received the majority of votes.702 The next clause, however, is particularly interesting in relation to the power balance between board and member meeting. It concerns a rule which, in effect, would introduce a period of quarantine for directors on the board. If a member of the board had already served for two years, that person would be disqualified for re-election for a certain period of time. Two opposing interests are thus pitted against each other: the interest in continuity of management versus the interest in retaining a strong control over the board. This conflict had been aired before. In March 1893, the following proposition was presented at the member meeting: …that the words ’all retiring officers being eligible for re-election’ in Rule 14 be deleted, and that the following words be inserted ‘That no directors be eligible for re-election after having served two consecutive

––––––––– 700 Minutes Adjourned Special General Meeting, 7th October 1896. Minutes Adjourned Special Meet- ing, 12th August 1891. 701 Minutes Adjourned Special General Meeting, 7th October 1896. 702 Minutes Adjourned Special General Meeting, 7th October 1896.

235 years on the Board until the expiration of twelve months after their term of office.’703 After a long discussion the proposition was put to the vote; 202 voted for and 191 against, and the motion was declared carried.704 Yet, it remained a contested issue. It was reopened in a series of ordinary meetings, and at special meetings called by members.705 And considering the controversial nature of this question, it is not surprising that there was a proposition on the matter at the special general meeting in October 1896. However, the proposed twelve-month quarantine was not the only alternative. It was suggested at the meeting that the period of disqualification should be extended to three years. The winning alternative, however, was an intermediate solution, proposed as an amendment, that former directors be disqualified for re-election for two years.706 The issue was settled for the time being, but it would be subject to further changes when a new major revision of the rules was undertaken in 1905. Only eight years after the revision in 1896, it was decided that the rules needed to be revised anew. A special committee was elected for the purpose, the Revision of Rules Committee (RRC) of 1904-1905. It consisted of 15 members – one being a woman, Mrs Bell – and the secretary of the society was assigned the task of serving as secretary on this committee. The documentation originating from this revision – minutes from the meetings of the RRC, the rules they proposed, and the minutes from the special general meetings where their revisions were defeated or carried – furnishes us with an almost complete overview of the rules of the Newcastle Society at the beginning of the twentieth century. These documents will be used extensively in the following account. They allow us to portray the situation in 1905 in some detail, and we will use the information gathered here as a point of departure when we discuss rule changes further on. Some areas where the RRC made proposals should be familiar by now. One suggested change, for example, was that the number of executive officers, i.e. the officers on the board, should be extended to fifteen directors, plus chairman, secretary and treasurer. This proposition, however, was not passed. Instead, the adjourned special general meeting in December 1904 decided that the board should ––––––––– 703 Minutes Special General Meeting 10th March 1893. 704 Minutes Special General Meeting 10th March 1893. 705 At the following quarterly meeting, another resolution, but with the same tendency, was proposed. It was suggested that no member who had previously represented the Society at Co-operative Con- gress should be eligible for election at this meeting. There was no vote on this proposition. In fact, however, Mr Siddle, who had been the representative for the last two years, was not re-elected, but was replaced by Mr Lotinga. See Minutes 128th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1893. In June, the same year, 100 members called a new special general meeting. It was proposed to reinstall the words ‘all retiring officers being eligible for re-election’, and delete the new line adopted in March. 162 members voted for re-instalment, but 214 voted against and the motion was lost. See Minutes Special General Meeting, 14th June 1893. And the story continued. November 27th 1895, 28 members signed a request for a special meeting to reinstall the words ‘all retiring officers being eligible for re-election’ and delete the new line adopted in March 1893. Yet, in the end, the proposition only got the support from 24 members at the meeting, and 165 voted against the motion. See Minutes Special General Meeting, 27th November 1895. 706 Minutes Adjourned Special General Meeting, 7th October 1896.

236 consist of twelve directors, one chairman, one secretary, and one treasurer. The importance of this decision is not entirely clear. RRC’s suggestion would have given the chairman more power on the board of directors, since he would have had the casting vote.707 This is not the case in the resolution which actually won effect, but we do not know whether such considerations played a part in the decision. But there are other things of which we can be more certain. The rule revisions suggested by the RRC are liable to either codify or alter handed-down relations between board and member meeting. Even if the Newcastle Society was, at this point, too vast an operation for the member meeting to fiddle with the details of day-to-day management, there was still a living heritage from the early days, in the sense that members were anxious to retain their control over the conditions of management. One example of this is a RRC suggestion to limit the board’s discretion in taking up loans. The proposed wording stated that the board of management “...may, with the consent of a quarterly or special meeting, obtain by way of a loan from any person or persons…such sum or sums of money at such rate of interest as shall be decided upon by the board…”. The newly inserted line, marked with italics in the quote, makes the board dependent on the member meeting, and it was approved at the special general meeting in November 1904.708 Similarly, the member meeting had kept a certain amount of authority to dispose and distribute part of the profit. This becomes clear if we consult Paragraph 12 – on the application of profits – in the 1905 version of the rules. The paragraph contains instructions about interest on capital and dividend on purchases, as well as about depreciations of buildings and fixtures. But it also contains a section referring to a reserve fund: …forming a reserve fund by applying such proportion of net profits as the quarterly meeting may determine, together with all entrance fees, fines, and forfeits which shall be applicable by resolution of such meeting in regard to which notification has been given upon the notice convening it as follows, viz.:- (a) To meet any contingency affecting the business of the society.

(b) To any other purpose which the general meetings may from time to time direct, whether such purpose be educational, charitable, philan- thropic, of public utility, or any other purpose, whether within the objects for which the society is formed or not.709

––––––––– 707 Adjourned Special General Meeting, 2nd December 1904. 708 ”Resolved that the words ’with the sanction of a Quarterly or Special meeting’ be inserted after the word may on the first line of Rule 8.” Minutes Revision of Rules Committee 3rd March 1904, in 102/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27th January 1904 – 7th December 1905. For the approval of the amendment see Special General Meeting, 23rd November 1904. 709 Proposed Rules Paragraph 12, in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 De- cember 1905.

237 These paragraphs demonstrate that the member meeting had considerable influence over how at least part of the surplus should be distributed. To be sure, the member meeting’s control over these resources was somewhat circumscribed by rules. In the case of the education fund, a minimum sum was guaranteed, but the member meeting could decide to allocate more money if it so wished. In fact, however, the rules of 1905 gave a greater degree of freedom to the member meeting in this regard. The fund for charitable purposes – introduced in 1868 – had previously received a fixed rate of 2.5 per cent of the net profit of the trade of the society. In the rules from 1905, it is up to the quarterly meeting to decide how much money should be assigned to this fund.710 There was one area of everyday management, however, where the members had not yet forfeited their control, and where the RRC was a turning point. It concerned the wages of the society’s employees. As early as 1891, a revision of rules committee had suggested that Rule 16 – on management – should be altered, so as “…to render it unnecessary to submit advances in the wages of employees to the quarterly meeting for approval…”. When put to the vote, however, this proposal was defeated, and the member meeting continued to vote for who should have a rise and by how much.711 A new attempt to hand over the decisions regarding employment and wages to the board of management was made by the RRC in 1904. According to their proposition, the board should decide who to employ and who to dismiss, and determine the wages and salaries of these employees. But the member meeting should have the power to approve or reject cases where the wage on appointment exceeded 40 shillings per week, or when an increase in wage resulted in a payment of 40 shillings a week. This time, member opinions had turned in favour of handing over the authority to decide in all matters concerning employees and wages to the board, and the proposition was carried.712 Considered jointly, these examples show that the member meeting retreated further with regard to its influence over everyday management, but that a great deal was still at stake at the member meetings. The next issue to consider, then, is what the rules of 1905 have to say about the conditions and procedures of member meetings. These are important in several respects. First, they set the framework for participation and influence, and, by doing so, set the preconditions for successful strategies among the actors themselves. Second, they give an indication of what members needed to know in order to exercise their power. These are good reasons for describing the regulations concerning the conditions and procedures of member meetings in some detail. The board was dependent on the approval of the member meeting in quite a few issues. They could gain it either by presenting a resolution at a quarterly meeting or by calling a special general meeting. Members, too, had the opportu- ––––––––– 710 For a longer account of the development of the Education Fund see Part Four, Section 2.1.1. And for an account about the Charitable Purpose Fund see Part Four, Section 2.2. 711 Minutes Adjourned Special Meeting, 12th August 1891. 712 Adjourned Special General Meeting 2nd December 1902 in Proposed Rules Paragraph 16 – Man- agement in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905.

238 nity to call special meetings, on condition that they could collect at least 100 member signatures. The subject, time, and place of a special meeting had to be posted in all principal places of business of the society six days before the meeting took place. Besides, at least 100 members had to turn up; otherwise the meeting would be adjourned. The corresponding figure for quarterly meetings was lower: 50 members had to be present if the meeting was to constitute a quorum. The requisite attendance figures had remained the same for a long time. The purpose of this device was to create a threshold, so as to ensure that there were no unnecessary disruptions in the day-to-day dealings of the society, yet without introducing insurmountable difficulties for the members to summon a special meeting. It should be noted that the required one hundred members was a much lower proportion of the membership at the beginning of the 19th century than it was in the early years of the Newcastle Society. As we have shown in Part Two, the society had grown considerably in the meantime. This growth gave rise to other considerations. By the end of the 19th century, the society had stores in all districts of the city. With this expansion in mind, in combination with information about other societies’ ways of conducting elections, the 1904 RRC proposed a change in the electoral system. The suggestion was that the society should be divided into districts for the election of directors, member representatives on the educational committee, representatives to the general meeting of the CWS, and representatives to the annual meeting of the Gilsland Convalescent Home. Such a system would have made sure that members in the different districts of the city, including Gosforth Village, obtained at least one representative in these assemblies.713 A similar proposal had in fact been made as early as 1888. The board had strongly advised against it, and claimed that such a system was “…surrounded by so many difficulties, and if carried into practice would likely lead to evil results…”.714 It is not clear what these evil results would be, but the proposition was defeated. The renewed attempt in 1904 to implement the system suffered the same fate. 45 members voted against it, 30 for it. Note, however, that the voting figures indicate that only 75 members were present at the special meeting in November 1904. This must be considered a low figure, in view of the potential ramifications of the vote, and considering that the total number of members had reached 19,000. Such low attendance figures were by no means the normal state of affairs. The problem was often the reverse. Member meetings could sometimes attract over 1,000 members, who had to be squeezed into the meeting hall. It goes without saying that it was difficult to find premises which could accommodate so many people, and yet they would still only constitute a fraction of the membership. This problem was especially important in relation to the election of officers. Ini- tially, these elections had taken place at member meetings, by members who were physically present. As member figures rose, that method of conducting elections became increasingly untenable. Yet, the system of voting for the different candidates directly at the member meetings was apparently popular with the ––––––––– 713 Minutes Special General Meeting, 23rd November 1904. 714 Minutes Special Committee Meeting, 22nd March 1888.

239 members. At a special meeting in February 1885, the members voted against a proposition that elections should instead be conducted with the aid of polling stations at the register office and in some of the society’s stores.715 Three years later, however, the system with polling stations was introduced.716 This changed the strategic framework when it came to election of officers. The element of group pressure, which was surely noticeable at meetings, decreased. Members who wished to promote a particular candidate to the board, or who wished to replace a director of the board whose services they were displeased with, now had to find new strategies. The new system gave more weight to forums outside the member meeting as channels for rallying support. The rules which were proposed and carried in 1904 continued this system and detailed the procedures for elections. Any member who wished to nominate a candidate for the office of director or chairman had to hand in the nomination to the registered office five weeks before the election, and the nomination had to be seconded by a second member. A list of the nominated candidates should then be exhibited at the society’s principal places of business at least four weeks before the election. Information about these procedures was printed on receipts for pass books each alternate quarter of the year, or at least in those quarters when an election was to take place. These receipts deserve a comment. In order to vote members had to hand in their pass books, and a special date for doing so would be determined beforehand. Upon handing in the pass book, the member received both the list of candidates and the receipt just mentioned. Members who forgot to hand in their pass books on that particular day could hand them in afterwards, but only up to the day before election. Further specifications, on the lines of the polling station system, were introduced in an amendment in November 1904: The votes of the members will be received at the Society’s registered office on the Friday and Saturday preceding the quarterly meetings between the hours of 7 to 9 pm on Fridays and 1 to 9 pm on Saturdays and on the same dates at such of the branches as may be appointed from time to time by the quarterly meeting on Fridays from 7 to 9 pm and on Saturdays from 4 to 9 pm.717 In other words: members voted by ballot in the registered office or in a branch store appointed polling station and the results were presented at the following meeting. To gain admission to that meeting – or indeed to any quarterly or special meeting – members had to either show their pass book or the receipt they got when they handed in their pass book to vote. Yet, as we have noted before, not everyone was eligible to stand for office. The rules impose several restrictions on eligibility. The rules of 1905 stipulate, ––––––––– 715 See Report from 95th Quarterly General Meeting, Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society in The Co-operative News, February 14th 1885. 716 See printed copy ”Amendments of Rules agreed to by General Meeting held on Wednesday, June 6th 1888”, in minute book 120/13 Quarterly and Board Meetings Minutes Book 22 March 1888 – 11 December 1888. 717 Minutes Special General Meeting, 23rd November 1904.

240 for example, that no person in the employ of the society may serve as auditor or director on the board. There was a suggestion by a member of the RRC to extend this principle, so as to also disqualify employees of the CWS from serving as directors. This proposition was never taken up in the proposed rules and therefore it remained possible for the employees of the CWS in Newcastle to be nominated as candidates.718 But there are more restrictions listed in Paragraph 25 – on “Dis- qualification of Directors” – of the approved rules from 1905: Any member of the board of management shall vacate his office if he holds any other office or place of profit under the society; if he become bankrupt; if he is concerned in or participates in the profits of any contract with the society, or if any member of his family is employed by the society. But the above rule is subject to the following exceptions:- That no director shall vacate his office by reason of his being a member of any company or society which has entered into contracts with or done any work for the society of which he is director. Nevertheless, he shall not vote in respect of such contract or work, and if he does so vote, his vote shall not be counted. No person shall be eligible for any office who has not been a member of the society for two years, who has less than three fully paid shares standing to his credit in the books of the society, whose purchases average less than £25 per annum, or who is in any business upon his own account similar to that carried on by the society. A member holding any office shall not be eligible for nomination as a candidate for any other office in the society unless he resigns for the office he holds on or before the date fixed for closing the list of nominations.719 One noteworthy feature of this formulation is what it does not contain, namely a clause about a period of quarantine for former directors. They no longer had to step down for any period of time – be it twelve months, two years or three years – and there was no limit to the number of times they could be re-elected. This rule would remain throughout the period under study, but, as we shall see below, other disqualifying traits were to be added further on. Electoral procedures were not the only concerns of the Revision of Rules Committee, and it was certainly not the only area regulated by the rules. Another important area was the correct procedure during quarterly and special meetings. There were, for example, rules to determine how attendees should go about making a proposition for an amendment. In the rules of 1905, it is thus detailed that any proposal from a member to a quarterly meeting rescinding a standing resolution had to be handed to the secretary in writing before any quarterly meeting. Moreover, no member, apart from the mover of the resolution, was allowed to speak more than once on any resolution or amendment. The rationale behind this measure was apparently that the RRC wished to reserve the member meetings for policy questions and thus make them more efficient. Another way of achiev-

––––––––– 718 Rule 23, Minutes Revision of Rules Committee, 3rd March 1904. 719 See Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905, p. 19.

241 ing this was to delegate some questions to other forums, e.g. to rid quarterly meetings from complaints about services and goods: If any members has any complaint to make relative to the qualities or price charged for goods supplied by the society, or respecting the conduct of any of the servants or officers of the society, such complaint shall be sent to the board of management, in writing, by the complaining member, or some other member of the society, on his or their behalf, and shall be investigated and decided upon by the board of management, such decision to be entered into the minute book; and if satisfaction be not given by such decision, the same may be brought before a quarterly meeting of the members. Any member may likewise send to the board of management, in writing, any suggestions for carrying into better effect the objects of the society, which shall be considered by the directors.720 That is to say: instead of having all complaints discussed at member meetings, they would first be sent to the board, noted in the Complaint Book, and discussed at directors’ meetings. If the directors wished for clarification, the complaining member was invited to a board meeting for an interview, to which the manager in charge of the department or branch in question would often be summoned as well.721 Only those cases where the complaining members still remained unsatis- fied would reach the member meeting, and the idea was that meetings would thus be relieved of much tedium. Standing orders supplement the rules. They provide, among other things, a formal code of conduct, which the members had to know about and observe if they wished to participate. Let us, therefore, take a look at the standing orders adopted at a quarterly member meeting in July 1902. The impression from reading them is that members had to be both knowledgeable and strategic in order to get a proposition or amendment adopted at a quarterly member meeting. To bring this out, it suffices to consider the procedure they impose. As we have already noted, the member had to send the proposition to the secretary in advance. Once at the meeting, the proposer had to stand up and address the chair when the item came up on the agenda. The proposition would then have to be seconded by another member, or it would be left without consideration.722 Once this was done, other members could put forward amendments. These, too, had to be seconded and written down at the meeting and handed to the secretary, if the chairman so required. Only after this was properly done could the discussion begin. But there were rules to regulate this part of the proceedings as well: 3. – Each member who rises to speak must direct his speech to the motion proposed as the question for discussion, or to a motion or amendment to be proposed by himself, or to a question of order. 4. – Every amendment ––––––––– 720 Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905, p. 21. 721 See Part Four, Chapter 3. 722 The procedure where a motion had to be seconded by another member than the mover is described in the rules not in the Standing Orders. See Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905, p. 20.

242 shall be relevant to the motion upon which it is moved. 5. – No member shall be at liberty to move more than one amendment upon any motion. 6. – The mover of an original motion, or of an amendment, shall be allowed ten minutes, and all other speakers five minutes.723 Judging by the standing orders, quarterly and special meetings left little room for spontaneous comments or more exhaustive discussions. They do, however, allow for interruptions under certain conditions: “Upon a point of order suddenly aris- ing, any member may speak if he does so immediately, and commences by a statement that he rises to order”.724 If a point of order was brought up, that issue had to be addressed before the discussion could be resumed on the issue which was originally under debate. And at the close of a speech, it was possible, for anyone who so wished, to move “the previous question,” or “that this meeting be adjourned,” or “that the subject under discussion be adjourned”. But these reactions to questions of order would also have to be seconded in order to be regarded. If this is what the normal procedure was supposed to look like, it would appear to be rather difficult for members to take an active part in the meeting. At least, that is, if we restrict the meaning of “active” to the acts of proposing, or protesting against, something at a quarterly meeting. In order to engage in such activities, members would have to be well prepared and make sure beforehand that they had at least one ally to second their proposition or amendment. Never- theless, there were other ways of participating in a meeting, voting being the most obvious one. There are also ways of participating which are more difficult to discern from the minutes. We get an illustration of this if we conjure up the image of the meeting in 1906 – presented in Chapter 5 of Part One – where directors were calling each other abusive names. None of this is shown in the minutes, and the reason we know about it is that it was reported in The Northern Echo. The same article provides us with a picture of a peculiar form of participation on the part of the attending members: much like in the House of Commons, they showed their sympathies by laughing, booing, and cheering.725 Since the minutes remain silent about such expressions of sympathy, we have no way of knowing how common it was or when it ended. For it did disappear. There was nothing of the sort at the annual general meeting of the North Eastern and Cum- bria Co-operative Society (NECS) which I visited in 2001. But it may still have been there in the 1960s. Jim Lamb, who became a member of the Newcastle So- ––––––––– 723 Proposed standing orders recommended for adoption by the Board of Management, Newcastle Upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited, inserted in 120/14 Minute Book Minutes of Quarterly Minutes October 31, 1888 – January 25, 1905. Approved see Minutes 165th Quarterly General Me- eting 30th July 1902. 724 Proposed standing orders recommended for adoption by the Board of Management, Newcastle Upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited, inserted in 120/14 Minute Book Minutes of Quarterly Minutes October 31, 1888 – January 25, 1905. 725 ”Directors’ Straight talk”, The Northern Echo July 26th 1906. “Newcastle Co-operative Society”, Daily Chronicle, July 26th 1906. Newcastle Co-operators And the Sale of Wine at the Store, Tem- perance Advocators Object at Quarterly Meeting, in Newcastle Daily Chronicle October 28th 1909. These articles are inserted in 1127/27.

243 ciety in the 1960s, has informed me that member meetings in those days were very lively, and could contain displays similar to those in 1906.726 On the other hand, Nigel Todd, who has a background in the Royal Arsenal Co-operative So- ciety (RACS) and became education officer in the NECS in 1976, has pointed out that while meetings in the RACS in the 1960s could be lively, those in the NECS of the mid-1970s were comparatively calm.727 What we can say, however, is that the standing orders neither encourage nor forbade members to participate in this rowdy manner. We will leave it at that, and focus instead on a couple of cases where the standing orders make explicit allowance for yet other types of participation at member meetings. One activity which members were free to indulge in, and which did not demand so much preparation, was to ask questions on the subject currently under discussion. Questions were allowed at any point of the meeting, and obviously did not need to be seconded. We have omitted one important loop-hole in the comparatively stern regiment of the standing orders. It may not, as it were, have been a source of participation for the majority of members, for it presupposed a thorough knowledge of rules and proceedings, but it has consequences for the course of member meetings. Members who were knowledgeable of the rules could be tough combatants for the chairman and the directors, who desired to conduct an efficient and expedient meeting. To be sure, the chairman had extraordinary resources at his disposal. The chairman had a casting vote, whereas all other member had a single vote only.728 The chairman could also decide to close the meeting, if he so wished, and rules and standing orders were resources to which he could appeal in order to keep the meeting on track.729 The latter resource, however, was a double- edged sword, for members who knew the rules and standing orders also knew that they could ask for a suspension of orders, provided that they received the support of three-fourths of the members at the meeting. By asking for the suspension of orders, the rules of the game changed. It was now possible for mem-

––––––––– 726 Throughout the research process of this thesis I have had the privilege of being able to ask Jim Lamb questions about my findings in the minutes. Two taped interviewed have been made: Inter- view Jim Lamb 8 Sept 1998 and Interview Jim Lamb 16 July 1999. But the information about the character of the meetings in the 1960s is something that Jim Lamb has told me about during conversations about finding in the minutes. 727 In a taped interview Nigel Todd refers to the lively meetings in the RACS when he as a member in the Society and also a member in the Young Socialist tried to get the RACS to take part in the boycott against South African products. See Interview Nigel Todd 9 Sept 1998. In the interview Nigel also talks about his time as Education Officer in the NECS but my questions were then focused on education and the work in the Education Committee. The information about the character of member meetings in the NECS in the middle of the 1970s is something that Nigel Todd has told me after the interview. However, Nigel Todd has confirmed this information in a e-mail “Noisy Co-op meetings” 9 August 2004. 728 Besides standing orders from 1902 see also Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Commit- tee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905, p. 20. 729 Proposed standing orders recommended for adoption by the Board of Management, the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited, inserted in 120/14 Quarterly Meetings Minutes Book. Accepted at 165th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1902.

244 bers to call attention to topics which were not on the agenda. They could more or less take over the meeting, putting the board, and the chairman in particular, somewhat out of control. Suspension of orders is not the same as chaos. The rules still apply even as the standing orders are suspended. If the meeting resulted in a dispute between two parties within the society, for example, there were rules to regulate disputes and their arbitration. These rules can, in a sense, provide for an additional mode of participation. They instructed members who had come into conflict with a decision of the board or the member meeting – either in their own right, or on the behalf of some or all members of the society – to name an arbitrator. A second arbitrator would then be named by the directors. If the two arbitrators could not settle the dispute, they, in turn, had to appoint an umpire, whose decision was final and binding. The cost of the arbitration was decided by the arbitrators, and the conflicting parties had to deposit 10 shillings with the secretary of the society to abide by the result.730 Our account so far has just about covered the most important rules of 1905, and they will serve as a backdrop when we discuss later rule changes. Yet, before we continue to do so, a few words remain to be said about the conditions for such changes. There were of course rules for the revision of rules. It was not possible, for example, to move rule changes at ordinary quarterly meetings. Rule revisions had to take place at special meetings, which means that they were subject to the same strictures as every special meeting: they could be called either by the board or by a signed request from a minimum of 100 members. Apart from the general rules pertaining to special meetings, there was also the issue of how strong support a suggested revision must have in order to be carried. At the meeting in November 1904 we thus find an amendment that it had to be a two-third majority to alter the rules. When put to the vote, however, this amendment was lost, and the society continued to regard a simple majority sufficient for a rule change to become effective.731 These last remarks are good to bear in mind as we move on to consider what changes the rules underwent during the remaining period of our study. Our first stop is in the 1930s. To set the stage, it should be pointed out that the early 1930s was a turbulent time for the Newcastle Society. The society was the victim of a fraud. Two employees were put on trial, and one of them was sent to prison. Even if no director or auditor was brought to trial, it was bad enough that the leadership and auditors had not been able to discover the wrongdoing.732 Confi- dence in the board and the chairman was shaken. Moreover, the chairman at the time – Mr Lax – had a fairly authoritarian style: his decisions and mode of conducting meetings had already been questioned. These events, and the mounting

––––––––– 730 Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905, pp. 21-22 731 Adjourned Special General Meeting, 2nd December 1904. 732 ”Fraud on Newcastle Society. Two cases before assizes. Conspiracy and false pretences. Two Co- operative Officials, and agent, and a merchant sent to prison. Judge on improper practice.” The Co- operative News, 25th February 1933.

245 dissatisfaction with the chairman, form the background to the revision of rules in 1933, which we are about to describe. A special meeting for the revision of rules was held on 25 October 1933. Members were informed that auditors from the CWS had been engaged to do the internal audit, and that the business of the society was under scrutiny. A large majority of the members voted for a proposition stating that only chartered auditors should be elected as auditors of the society – undoubtedly a direct response to the recent fraud. This, however, was not the only topic on the agenda. There was also a motion that nobody older than 70 years should be able to stand for office. And there was an amendment, suggesting an age limit of 65 years for all officers of the society, which was also moved and duly seconded. Despite the general formulation of the proposed rule, it was most probably designed as an attempt to get rid of certain current officials, whose neglect was thought to have made the fraud possible, or who were perceived to be undesirable on other grounds as well. In any case, these propositions unleashed disorder at the meeting. The chairman wished to say something on the matter, but the meeting called for the vote to be taken. Lax made a second attempt to speak and said that if the meeting would not listen to what he had to say he would close the meeting. The meeting ignored his warning, and Lax left the platform. The meeting could not continue without the chairman. Yet, those in favour of a revision of the rules declared that they would arrange for a new special meeting and present a second requisition.733 And they were successful. No less than 384 members signed the request for a special meeting. The new special meeting took place on 11 December, and a new proposal was moved, followed by two amendments: That the Board of Management, Officials and all other employers of this Society, without exception, shall terminate their service at the age of 65 years.734

In the case of members of the Employees’ Pension Fund, this Rule shall come into effect twelve months after date of registration.735

That this meeting give power to the Chairman, to appoint immediately a Vice-Chairman from the Board of Management and for the same appointment to take effect every six months after the election of the Board.736 The result of the vote was 839 for the resolution and 493 against. The two amendments were also carried: 581 voted for the first amendment and 307 against, and the second amendment, too, won by a large majority. At first, the Registrar of Industrial and Providence Societies was reluctant to accept these

––––––––– 733 Minutes 290th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1933. 734 Minutes Special General Meeting, Monday 11th December 1933. 735 Minutes Special General Meeting, Monday 11th December 1933. 736 Minutes Special General Meeting, Monday 11th December 1933.

246 changes, but the new age rule was soon implemented.737 We cannot be certain that the age rule was introduced solely for the purpose of getting rid of Lax as chairman of the society. The new rule could perhaps equally well be interpreted as a continuation of the old debate on the conditions for re-electing directors. Yet, Lax’ behaviour at the meeting, his protests, and the fact that he retired under the age-limit rule in June 1934, indicate that he was the target of this particular revision of rules.738 Hence, what we have here is an example of a general rule which was introduced to solve a specific problem. In the end, the new clause added to the list of categories disqualified to serve as directors. From now on, no person over the age of 65 was eligible to stand for office. Yet, there were not only additions to, but also reformulations of and subtrac- tions from, the list of disqualified categories. There are two examples of this, and both deserve special mention. The first concerns a controversy about a problem which is difficult for any co-operative society, namely family loyalty versus solidarity with the society. We will quote it at some length, for it shows, in the flesh so to speak, how rules may become obstacles to practical politics, how the actors may attempt to evade or bypass rules, and how rules become reformulated in the process. The stage is a quarterly meeting in July 1937. Mr Gibson, one of the members, has asked that the standing orders be removed, so as to allow a discussion of the disqualification of Mr Joseph H. Yeats from the board. Upon hearing Gib- son’s request, a rule rider rises to his feet to remind the chairman that the minutes from the previous meeting had not been read. Gibson agreed that the report and other items should be dealt with before they come to the matter of suspending standing orders. He awaits the proper occasion and makes his proposition anew.739 The chain of events leading up to Gibson’s proposal at the meeting was the following. Yeats had been a popular candidate in the recent election of directors, and had won a seat on the board. After he had been elected, however, it had been pointed out that Yeats’ father was currently a manager in the service of the society, and that he would therefore be disqualified. According to rule 22 – on the “Disqualification of Directors” – “any member of the board of management shall vacate his office or place of profit under the society; /…/ if any member of his

––––––––– 737 Registrar would not accept rule changes. Members voted unanimously that the Rules be sent again to the Registrar. Minutes 291st Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1934. Registrar would not accept resolution on the Age Rule that is the 65 year limit. It was suggested that a special meeting be arranged to discuss the question. But that was not the opinion of the majority of the meeting because a resolution ”…that the Board of Management be instructed to authorise the Secretary to complete whatever form is required by the Registrar to secure that the partial amendments of the rules as last revised by the Registrar be fulfilled.”. Minutes 292nd Quarterly General Meeting, 25thApril 1934. Than at the following quarterly meeting a question for a member reveal that the changes now had been accepted; ”…first question asked was as to the precise wording of the new 65-age-limit-rule, and the Secretary read this from the last rule book for the satisfaction of the meeting.” Minutes 293rd Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July, 1934. 738 See Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services, 1951, p.17. 739 Minutes 305th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July 1937.

247 family is employed by the society”.740 Yeats was forced to step down, but neither he nor his supporters were willing to accept this verdict. Rule 22 had been on the agenda before. In 1882, a committeeman resigned because his daughter had been employed as a milliner by the society. In 1902, the rule itself had been questioned, and a motion was moved to seek legal advice as to how the rule should be interpreted – but the motion was lost.741 This was the situation by the time of the quarterly meeting in 1937. Gibson argued that legal opinion should be sought on the interpretation of rule 22. The chairman reported that this had already been done, and the interpretation offered by the society solicitors was “…that father and son and vice versa, would definitely come under the rule for disqualification…it would probably include brothers & might even have a much wider interpretation”. Solicitors from the Co- operative Union had also looked into the matter. They had reached the same conclusion, and reproached Yeats for standing for office in the first place, stating “…that a son sitting on the board whilst his father is employed by the Society is disqualified as he defiantly came within the mischief which the rule was intended to prevent”. After these interpretations had been presented, Yeats himself spoke from the body of the hall. He claimed that the only authority which could remove him was that of the members. He also went on to claim that, if he was removed, other members on the board would have to resign as well, since they too had relatives working for the society. Mr J. Robson then proposed that a revision of rules committee be elected to clarify the situation, and this resolution was carried.742 After this meeting, there followed a series of quarterly and special meetings where the issue of how Rule 22 should be interpreted was discussed. The conflict between the sitting board, on the one hand, and Yeats and his supporters on the other, became increasingly intense.743 During these interchanges, members used a variety of means to protest. For instance, the member meeting refused to pass the minutes from the previous meeting, and there were repeated moves to suspend standing orders.744 The result was basically a stalemate. The Yeats affair ––––––––– 740 Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905, p. 19. 741 “(NB. A minute revealed that the Society had a rule (details not known) disqualifying members from serving on the Committee if a relative was employed by the Society. A Committee man resigned consequently on his daughter entering the Society’s business as a milliner).” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1882. Then in 1902: “A discussion took place as to the interpretation of rule 23 relating to Directors having members of their family in the employment of the Soci- ety and a motion was proposed and seconded. ‘That the legal advisers of the Co-operative Union be requested to state their opinion upon the matter.” The motion was lost 106 voted for but 123 voted against. Minutes 165th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1902. 742 Minutes 305th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July 1937. 743 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1937. Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1938. Minutes Special General Meeting, 23rd March 1938. Minutes Special General Meet- ing, 23rd March 1938, (two special general meetings were held at the same day). Minutes First Spe- cial General Meeting, 29th June 1938, (a second special meeting was held the same day but rule 22 or other matters related to the Yeats affair were not discussed there). 744 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1937.

248 had to be resolved in some manner. And since his admission to the board was incompatible with the rules, the solution which was finally resorted to was to specify the term “family” in such a manner that it allowed Yeats to become director: Any member of the board of management shall vacate his office or place of profit under the society,/…/…if a husband, wife, father, mother, son, daughter, brother or sister is employed by the society, until such times as the aforesaid son or daughter, brother or sister shall marry and become householders in their own right. In future, the number of family and relatives employed by the society to be stated on all voting papers, any mis- statement in this connection to be met by disqualification of the person concerned.745 When this formulation was inserted in the rules in 1938, Yeats could once again be nominated and elected to the board. Note, however, that while the “specification” above was obviously designed to bring Yeats back on the board, it is not at odds with the household conception of the family which we have already found indications of earlier. The specification appeals to a distinction between family and household, and rules that it is the household which is the basic unit in a co- operative society. Previous interpretations of Rule 22 had, of course, been more restrictive. The point of the story, however, is in the circumstances leading up to their dilution and reformulation. If the outcome of the Yeats affair was a re-description of a disqualified category, another alteration of the rules, seven years later, resulted in an entire category being erased from the list of non-eligibles, namely employees. In May 1945, the employees had gathered their forces to effect a change in the rules that would allow them to stand for office. They knew very well that this was a delicate question, and Mr Reynolds, who presented the proposal, was careful to point out that “…the proposal had not come from any particular party or section, but from the general body of employees”. The employees demanded direct representation on the board. Considering the drawn-out and infected debate we have just witnessed, it must have come as a surprise that the employees managed to get support for their proposition. This, however, is exactly what happened. It was decided that Rule 22 should be altered so as to allow employees to stand for election to the board. The decision was not unconditional, for it was also decided that no more than two employees were allowed to serve as directors at the same time, but the mobilisation of employees must nevertheless be considered a success.746 Five years later, in 1950, a representative from the employees made a renewed proposition, claiming, in the name of equality, that the limitation to two representatives on the board should be abolished. This time, members were more critical. Some members pointed out that the employees already had adequate representation: apart from the two permissible employee representatives on the board,

––––––––– 745 Minutes First Special General Meeting, 29th June 1938, italics added. 746 Minutes Special General Meeting, 30th May 1945.

249 employees also had covert representatives in the guise of directors who were trade union representatives. Upon being put to the vote, the resolution was lost.747 We have now reached the middle of the 20th century. Let us, however, roll back the time a couple of years, to 1946. This was one year before another revision of the rules took place, and by examining the complete set of rules at this date, we can estimate what alterations had been made from the time of the Revi- sion of Rules Committee in 1904-05. There were indeed changes to the rules, and we have already reviewed a couple of them, but the overall impression is that the rule framework had remained rather intact. In two areas, however, significant changes had been made. The first concerns the clauses on the application of profit. The rules of 1905 had stated that at least one shilling per £100 of the net profit should go to the education fund.748 This requirement, i.e. that a minimum amount had to be reserved for the education fund, would remain. Yet, the principle for determining that amount was changed in January 1946. The rule now read that one penny per member and annum should go to the education fund. The allocation of resources to the fund was, in other words, disconnected from the business performance of the society and became related to the number of members instead. This arrangement survived the 1947 revision of the rules, the only difference being that the sum was raised from one penny to one shilling per member and annum.749 The minimum level allocated to the education fund was prescribed in the rules, and, unless the rules were changed, was thus beyond interference from the member meeting. What the member meeting could do, however, was to assign additional means to the fund, in excess of what was required by the rules. If they did so, these additional funds could be channelled from the reserve fund. The member meeting had an influence over the reserve fund in two ways. It decided how much money should be transferred to it, and it decided what to do with the allocated sum. The task of deciding on major and minor allocations to the reserve fund makes the member meetings the setting for struggles over resources. We will have occasion to follow this closely further on. For the time being, we shall focus instead on restrictions concerning the member meeting’s freedom to dispose of the resources in the reserve fund. The rules from 1946 reveal that there had been an alteration in this respect since the time of the RRC in 1904-05, for the following section had now been inserted: Also a sum to be paid on the death of a member, or the wife, husband, or children of a member, as any quarterly or general meeting may determine. Such sum to be paid in proportion to the annual average purchases for three years prior to death credited to a member in the books of the society.750

––––––––– 747 Minutes 354th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th July 1950. 748 Proposed Rules Paragraph 12, in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 De- cember 1905. 749 Minutes Special General Meeting, 27th August 1947. 750 Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society 1946.

250 The rule in question is related to the collective life assurance which the society had introduced in 1912.751 It, too, will receive a more thorough discussion later on. What is important in this context is that the expenses for this scheme were to be covered from the reserve fund. It is, of course, still true that the member meeting has considerable control over the reserve fund. There was more money in that fund than the scheme would cost, and there was also the possibility of assigning additional resources to the fund. Nevertheless, placing the costs for the collective life assurance in the reserve fund does infringe upon future member meetings’ possibilities to freely dispose of these resources. The revision of rules in 1947 deleted the reference to “children”, which removed one item of expenditure, but the others remained.752 The second area concerns electoral procedures. The 1946 version of the rules contains the following paragraph, which had apparently been introduced somewhere between 1905 and 1946: No person shall, whilst on the society’s premises, be allowed to solicit votes, distribute literature, or assist in furthering the candidature of any person nominated for any office in the society.753 It might seem odd that candidates standing for office were debarred from campaigning on the society’s premises. Where else should they promote themselves and canvas for votes? Regardless of the rationale behind this rule, its effect, in conjunction with the use of polling stations, was to give considerable weight to the co-operative forums as vehicles of mobilisation. These organisations will be extensively dealt with in Chapter 5 below. These examples lead up to the revision of rules in 1947. The work to revise the rules again brought two substantial changes, each important in its own way. First, there was a decision, taken at a special meeting in August 1947, that the secretary should be appointed by the board, rather than by the member meeting. The board would also be given the authority to decide the secretary’s salary.754 This must be interpreted as a shift in the balance of power between the board and the member meeting. A similar proposition had been made, and rejected, two years earlier.755 The reason for the members’ reluctance to let go of the authority to appoint the secretary is to be found in the special role which this office had as a servant of the members. The duties of the secretary included serving members with information about quarterly reports and balance sheets, and answering questions which the members might have about the items that were going to be discussed at quarterly meetings. In performing these functions, the secretary became an intermediary, a person to whom members could turn to obtain practical assistance and information about the next meeting. These duties remained, and members could still get rid of a secretary by way of a vote at a special general meet- ––––––––– 751 See Part Four, Section 2.1. 752 Minutes Special General Meeting, 27th August 1947. 753 Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society 1946, Paragraph 14 Nominations and Elections (B) Subsidary Officers, p. 17. 754 Minutes Special General Meeting, 27th August 1947. 755 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1945.

251 ing, but the loss of the right to elect the person for this office meant that members no longer had a direct influence on the choice of their servant. Second, the new rules emerging from the revision included one important change, namely that a two-third majority would be required for a rule change to become effective.756 If major rule changes had been comparatively sparse before, this made it far more difficult to pass such changes, thus adding to organisational inertia. We would expect, then, that few alterations were to be made to the rules in the Post-War period. This is also the case. A glance at the rules from 1963 reveals that, in most areas, they are the same as in 1947. The paragraphs under headings such as “Mode of Conducting Business”, “Complaints and Suggestions”, “Disputes and Arbitra- tion” “Alteration of the Rules”, “Qualifications for office”, and “Disqualification of Directors” have all remained intact. There is one very consequential change, however. We find it under the heading “Order of Business”, where it is now stated that “…no amendment will be accepted to increase any financial recommendation appearing on the agenda at any ordinary meeting of the Society”.757 That change had been introduced in 1952.758 If anything, it was a substantial alteration of the power balance between board and member meeting, but it did not stop members from making propositions with financial recommendations. The change only stopped members at member meetings from handing in amendments that would increase any financial recommendation appearing on the agenda. Moreover, the intervals between meetings had also changed in 1963: quarterly meetings were replaced by two half-yearly meetings in April and October.759 This situation basically lasted until the Newcastle Society joined in the formation of the North Eastern Co-operative Society, which is also the terminal point of our inquiry. There was a revision of the rules in 1968, but it did not bring any significant changes. The alteration of the conditions for the collective life assurance scheme is a topic which will be discussed elsewhere. It is time, instead, to summarise what we have gathered so far. Like the expansion of services, the successive versions of rules are visible traces of decision-making. They are, however, more than that, for at any given point in time the current rules provide the framework within which the everyday politics of the society – the struggles over priorities, power and resources – are played out. Rules are both the result of and the preconditions for decision-making. Our portrayal of the rules in the Newcas- tle Society will therefore serve as a backdrop when we turn to the issue of how the practical politics unfolded in the society. In the Newcastle Society, the rules are also reactions to and codifications of previous organisational experience. The relative authority of the board and the member meeting was a question that loomed large in the early history of the society, and, despite the long gap before we get to the first surviving rules, this issue is clearly present both in the rules themselves and as a topic of debate. The ––––––––– 756 Minutes Special General Meeting, 27th August 1947. 757 Rules of The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited, 1963, p. 18. 758 Minutes of Special General Meeting, 15th October 1952. 759 See Minutes of Special General Meeting, 30th January 1963..

252 member meeting guarded its right to make decisions and to keep a tight control of the board. The democratic form, with a general member meeting electing representatives to the board, remained intact throughout the period, and so did much of the procedures at member meetings. But there were of course changes, which we have taken pains to spell out, and they affected the balance of power between the board and the member meeting. Towards the end of the period, the member meeting lost part of its role as initiator, and its freedom to dispose of the surplus was gradually circumscribed by new rules. Yet, the member meeting never lost its veto right, and, as we shall see in Part Four, was able to continue to exert much influence on the development of the Newcastle Society up until the end of the 1960s.

3.3 Rules and standing orders – Solidar The next task at hand is to describe the corresponding development in Solidar. We can be more concise in our account of the Swedish society, for several reasons. First, we have access to many versions of Solidar’s rules, and are thus less dependent on minutes from member meetings to determine what the rules were. Second, we can benefit from a contrastive comparison with the Newcastle Soci- ety as we set out to capture the salient features of Solidar’s rules and regulations. Third, minutes from meetings contain fewer detailed discussions about rules. Fi- nally, the rules themselves are not as detailed as in the Newcastle Society. The latter two points are important, not just because they allow us a certain amount of brevity, but also because they are themselves reflections of some structural characteristics of the society. In this sense, they bring us right into the heart of our subject matter. The explanation of these characteristics will be revealed as we go along. What we can say already at the outset is that major rule changes in Solidar have mainly been due to changes in the Association Act and in the model rules of KF or have come about in connection with amalgamations with other societies. Let us begin, however, with a few basic facts. In 1908, the registrar received and accepted the first rules of Solidar. According to these rules, an annual meeting should be held each year before the end of March. All members were welcome to, and had the possibility to vote at, these meetings. Everyone who wanted to become a member had to pay for a 5-kronor share in the society. This opportunity was not only open to physical but also to juridical persons. Associations could, and did, join. Another rule, no doubt designed to prevent financial insta- bility, stated that those who had become members had to wait for two years before they were entitled to leave the society. And yet another rule laid down that the board had the authority to exclude a member, although not without first consulting the member meeting.760 Some of these early rules were soon revised. As for the right to vote at member meetings, new rules in 1916 softened the requirements: instead of having to ––––––––– 760 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in Malmöhusläns landskanslisarkiv Anmälningar till föreningsregister 1908 in EVIII f:17.

253 be a full member, and thus paying the entire sum of five kronor for a share, it sufficed to have paid the entrance fee of one krona. A further rule change in 1925 meant a return to the more restrictive view of the original rules, and made voting conditional on membership, which by then required the purchase of one 10- kronor share.761 This arrangement was then to last for the entire period of our inquiry. Similarly, the revision of rules in 1925 cancelled the requirement for members to stay with the society for two years before they were allowed to withdraw. Yet, let us return to Solidar’s original rules. Just as in the Newcastle Society, buying more shares was not tantamount to getting more votes. “One member, one vote” was applied in Solidar as well. And just as in the Newcastle Society, there were rules for who could stand for office. At this point, however, we begin to discern differences between the two societies. There were, of course, no rules to prevent employees from serving on the board of Solidar, since this was originally a combined worker and consumer co-operative society. The first board consisted of seven members, five of whom were workers in the employ of the society. The rules for disqualification were tailored for this situation: in order to qualify for a position on the board, candidates had to guarantee that they were not members of any other bakery society and that they did run their own bakery. From the very beginning, the board of Solidar was given the license to determine matters which for a long time remained the prerogative of the member meeting in the Newcastle Society, such as electing its own chairman, treasurer and secretary. The rules of 1908 also detail the conditions for calling special meetings. The board could call to a meeting whenever it was deemed necessary. Members had the same option, provided that a minimum of 10 per cent of the membership signed a request stating their reasons for calling a meeting. The key difference between Solidar and the Newcastle Society in this respect is that the requirement is defined as a proportion rather than in absolute numbers. We get a sense of the effort demanded of the members if we translate this percentage into absolute numbers. The figure for 1908 would thus be 14 members, since there were 132 members in the society (15 of them being associations). Two years later, member figures had gone up, and 35 signatures now had to be collected in order to call a meeting. The threshold for calling special meetings was, in other words, set rather low. As we noted in Chapter 2, there were indeed many meetings outside of the regular schedule during Solidar’s first years. We do not know, however, whether these were the result of member requests or whether they were initiated by the board. Regardless of what the causes were, the fact that regular meetings were overtaken by extraordinary meetings was a problem. The infant society was in need of a more stable and routinised procedure, so as to make it run more smoothly. This problem, and eventually also the related issue of the composition ––––––––– 761 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in Malmöhusläns landskanslisarkiv Anmälningar till föreningsregister 1908 in EVIII f:17. Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar”, (1916), § 3, mom 1. Then see statues from 1925, 1932, 1937, 1952 and 1970, § 6.

254 of the board, was perceived to be more urgent than the question of the power balance between board and member meeting. This, too, marks a difference in relation to the Newcastle Society. We said before that the rules of Solidar are less detailed than those of the Newcastle Society. Although this holds true on a general level, there is one important exception. The rules which were accepted in 1908 prescribe exactly how the surplus of the business should be distributed. In Paragraph 8, it is stated that the net profit, calculated according to §15 of the Association Act, should be distributed in the following manner. A minimum 10 per cent of the surplus should be allocated to a reserve fund, and a maximum 6 per cent to interest on share capital. Fixed proportions are also set for depreciation: 2.5 per cent for buildings, and 25 per cent for stocks, fixtures and houses. Moreover, it is decreed in the rules that a minimum of 2.5 per cent of the surplus should go to an education fund for educational, social and charitable purposes. The remainder of the surplus, the rules state, should be distributed among the members as dividends in proportion to their annual purchases, and among the workers in the employ of the society with the same percentage – determined by the purchases – applied to their wages.762 The difference between Solidar and the Newcastle Society could not be more striking. In Newcastle, the distribution of the surplus remained a matter for the member meeting to decide, in Solidar the rules had already taken care of most of the allocation decisions. The rules provided a mechanism which automatically transferred the bulk of the surplus to fixed purposes. If Solidar’s members wished to prioritise differently, they would have to change the rules. It would be wrong, however, to suggest that the member meeting was entirely deprived of influence over the profit. It could, for example, decide to set more money aside in the reserve fund, and we have also seen that it could allocate more money to the education fund. Yet, while these and similar transfers were possible to effectuate, the authority of the member meeting was on a rather modest scale. This, we would suggest, provides part of the answer to why other rules, e.g. those regulating the procedure of the member meeting, were on a comparatively low level of detail. Since less was at stake, financially and strategically, at member meetings, there was less pressure to develop procedural safe-guards. Decisions taken at member meetings were simply less consequential for the conditions of management. If the contents of the rules in Solidar differ from those of the Newcastle Soci- ety, so do the driving forces behind rule changes. In the Newcastle Society, rule changes were frequently the result of ongoing internal debates and other intra- organisational factors. In comparison, the way the rules in Solidar were determined is more open to external influences. One such influence came from the KF federal organisation. A few words should be said about the adaptation to KF in the early history of the society, since it eventually contributed to the resolution of certain tensions brought on by Solidar’s status as a combined worker and con- ––––––––– 762 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in Malmöhusläns landskanslisarkiv Anmälningar till föreningsregister 1908 in EVIII f:17.

255 sumer co-operative. The rules quoted above in fact contain indications that Soli- dar relied on KF for the early formulations of the rules. Consider, for example, the decision to distribute 2.5 per cent of the surplus to an education fund. In 1908, the federal organisation had organised a Co- operative Congress, which had decided that KF should set aside 2.5 per cent of its surplus for educational purposes.763 It is possible, but not very likely, that this is mere coincidence. The case for emulation is further strengthened if we follow up what happened in 1910, when Solidar’s rules were revised. In this version of the rules, the minimum sum distributed to the reserve fund increased to 15 per cent, the interest on capital was reduced to a maximum 5 per cent, and the sum allotted to the education fund remained at 2.5 per cent.764 These sums correspond exactly with the levels prescribed in KF’s model rules from 1908.765 This is, of course, what you would expect, in view of the fact that Solidar had taken a decision in 1908 to affiliate with KF. Yet, all rules and rule changes in Solidar were certainly not derived from external events. Many different problems radiated from the initial organisation of the society. For example, the board tried to control the management of the society during the first years of business, but, as we have described in Chapter 2, the conflation of roles made it difficult to contain personal disagreements. They tended to spread into the member meeting, which thus became involved in everyday management questions. The problems and tensions inherent in the combined worker and consumer co-operative soon resulted in alterations of the rules governing the constitution of the board. From an initial worker majority, rule changes in 1908 and 1910 relegated the workers to a minority position in the board. In 1916, the rules precluded workers altogether from being eligible to the board, and a further revision of the rules in 1920 formally turned Solidar into a pure consumer co-operative. Even if this development was propelled by a desire to relieve tensions and solve practical problems, it was also facilitated and directed by other factors. The commitment to affiliate with KF and KF’s increasing emphasis on consumer co-operation no doubt played an important part Let us pause for a while to compare the rules of 1908 with those of 1916. The disappearance of workers from the board is, of course, a major change. But there is also a fair amount of continuity between the two versions. The society was still required to arrange two general member meetings per year, an annual meeting in March and a half-yearly meeting in August. The annual meeting still elected board, accountants, and their deputies. The conditions for calling special meetings remained unchanged. There is a new clause that all meetings should be announced in at least two daily newspapers eight days before the meeting – but on the whole, many formalities are intact.

––––––––– 763 Aléx, (1999), p. 55. 764 See Protokoll fört vid extra andelstämma med delägarna i Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar, 16 januari 1910 and Protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen”Solidars” fortsatta årsstämma, 28 mars 1910. See also Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a. Malmö, 1916. 765 Tronêt, (1979), p. 14.

256 The 1916 rules are more detailed than those from 1908 when it comes to the responsibility of the board and the revision of the society’s accounts. It was the board’s obligation to keep proper and correct accounts of the business of the society, and to make sure that the stocks and fixtures were insured against fire. The board’s responsibilities for employing new staff, and for deciding the wages and salaries of the employees, are also spelled out in detail. In other words, the board had many tasks to manage, and the board meetings were thus important for the management of the business of the society. And since so much would hinge on the board taking decisions, it was vital that its meetings should at all times be competent to make decisions. This is also reflected in the rules: a clause in Para- graph 4 states that directors who, without a valid reason, failed to turn up at two consecutive board meetings would be expelled. 766 As for the member meeting, the new version of rules qualifies the authority of the meeting and some procedural matters. For example, the member meeting decided on the remuneration for directors and accountants. There was also a new rule intended to make member meetings more efficient. Instead of bringing up their complaints over services and goods at these meetings, members were instructed to write to the board. Should the board’s action not be satisfactory, displeased members still had the option to present their complaint at the following member meeting – provided that they informed the board about their intent one week in advance.767 The transfer of authority to the board continues. In 1916, the board was granted the right to expel members, on condition that it consulted the member meeting. This is already a far-reaching mandate. Two years later, however, the member meeting also relinquished its right to confirm or negate such decisions taken by the board. After a heated debate at the half-yearly meeting in August 1917 – where some members proposed that the suggested change should be postponed, others that it be dropped – a large majority nevertheless decided that the lines “Dock i intet fall utan föreningens hörande” (never without consulting the member meeting) should be deleted from Paragraph 3.768 It must be emphasised that this rule change was not the result of a coup from a loud-voiced segment of the membership at one particular meeting. As of 1916, the rules regulating the revision of rules in Solidar stated that any alteration of the rules had to be approved at two consecutive member meetings, one of which must be a regular meeting, and that there had to be a two-third majority at the final meeting for the change to be effective.769 Despite the high threshold for rule changes, the revision was passed. The decision from the half-yearly meeting from August 1917 was confirmed at the annual society meeting in March 1918. The voting figures

––––––––– 766 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a. Malmö, 1916. 767 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a. Malmö, 1916. 768 Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidars halvårsstämma 26/8 1917, attatched to Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 1920, in Map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn Diverse Handlingar. 769 Stadgar för Kooperativa Bageriföreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a. Malmö, 1916.

257 were 59 to one, and it must be concluded that the decision to trust the directors to handle the exclusion issues had the members’ support.770 The example we have just described is illustrative, both of a tendency on the part of the member meeting to confer more authority to the board, and of the procedures for rule revisions. A much more consequential revision of the rules was, however, under way. That change was not gradual. On the contrary, it was occasioned by Solidar’s plan to amalgamate with three neighbouring co- operative societies – namely Seger, Konsumtionsföreningen Limhamn, and Rosengårds andelsförening – which was realised in 1925. Such a merger would necessitate considerable adaptations. The problem was not so much that the rules differed between the societies. If we take a glance at Seger’s rules from 1918, for example, they are very similar to Solidar’s 1916 rules. That similarity is no doubt indicative of a common source of influence. Both Solidar and Seger have obviously grafted their rules on the Association Act and on the model rules of KF.771 There are some differences, which presumably are related to Solidar’s background as a combined worker and consumer co-operative. Yet, these differences are not the primary reason why an amalgamation would require rule changes in the new constitution of Solidar. Far more important to contend with was the sheer increase in member figures and the issue of how to arrange the system of representation in a way that would be acceptable to members who had previously belonged to smaller independent societies. We can see these considerations in the rules adopted in 1925. One change, designed to accommodate the increased number of members, concerned the rules for calling special society meetings. As before, the board and the auditors had the authority to summon special meetings. To ensure that the members would have at least a hypothetical possibility to exercise their old right of also calling such meetings, the proportion of the membership required to sign the request was lowered from 10 to 5 per cent.772 If this must be interpreted as a concession, it would nevertheless be heavy duty – even with the lower percentage – for interested members to summon a special meeting. The new Solidar of 1925 would have 6,905 members, which means that 346 members would have to sign the request. Solidar’s way of construing the threshold in terms of a proportion of the membership contrasts with

––––––––– 770 We know, however, from other voting figures at the same meeting, that there were at least 89 members at this Annual Society Meeting. The reason why only 60 persons chose to vote is not clear. It could be that the remaining 29 members had either left the meeting by the time of the vote, or refrained from voting on this particular issue. Hypothetically, they could have made a difference. If all the members present had voted, and if the absentee votes had all been against the proposition, the voting figures would have stopped just short of a two-third majority. See Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid Koop. Bageriföreningen Solidars årstämma 3/3 1918, attatched to Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 1920, in Map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn Diverse Handlingar. 771 See Förslag till Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen ”Seger” u.p.a., Malmö, 1918, in Protokoll bok No 3, 4/1 1915 – 14/3 1922 Kooperativa Föreningen Seger. 772 See Distrikt och distriktsmöten § 13, Medlemsråd § 14, Föreningssammanträdet § 15 and § 16, in Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a., Malmö, 1925.

258 the Newcastle Society, where one hundred members were still sufficient to call a special meeting. In Newcastle, it became increasingly facile to gather the one hundred signatures from among a growing number of members; in Solidar growing member figures in practice soon raised the required number of signatures beyond possibility. With 19,005 members in 1937, it would have taken 950 signatures to call a special meeting. In 1969, member figures had reached a staggering 120,615, thus yielding a total of 6,031 required member signatures. The rule was changed in 1970, when it was decided that 10 per cent of the members of the newly instated council, which would have a maximum 200 delegates, sufficed to call a special meeting. This however, is all in the distant future. For a long time, the conditions for calling a special meeting required an extraordinary effort. Yet, the conditions for calling special society meetings in fact reflect more thorough changes which were also implemented in the 1925 version of the rules. According to these rules, some functions would still be retained by member meetings. It was the annual society meeting which was to approve the annual report. The board was elected by the annual society meeting, and it needed the approval of the member meeting for their suggestion as to how to distribute the surplus (even if the rules already circumscribed the degrees of freedom open to the board by specifying, to a great extent, what proportion of the surplus should go to what end). Another task of the member meeting was to decide on rule changes. In the rules of 1925, the description of the procedures regulating rule revisions have been deleted. They are replaced, instead, with a reference that any alteration has to abide with §42 of the Association Act, with the additional requirement that purported changes must be approved by KF. An examination of the paragraph in question reveals that the formulation is almost identical to the one that was printed in the 1916 version of Solidar’s rules. This is a further indication that Solidar used the Association Act of 1911 – which was optional, in the legal sense – as an external guide when constructing and revising its rules. In any case, the basic provisions remained the same in 1925: all rule changes had to be confirmed by two consecutive society meetings, and at least one of these had to be a regular annual society meeting. The only difference between Solidar’s rule in 1916 and the stipulations in the Association Act was that in the latter the requirement of a two-third majority was not unconditional. It allowed for two exceptions: a single majority was considered sufficient in cases concerning members’ right to withdraw their membership, and a three-quarter majority was necessary if the decision would affect the economic participation of the members. In all other cases a two-third majority was required to confirm rule changes.773 Yet, in sum, we must conclude that the functions allotted to the member meeting in 1925 were rather limited. But this was part of a more general transformation. The annual society meeting was reconstructed and inserted as a part of a more stratified, and more complex, democratic system which, apart from member meetings, also provided other forms of member participation, other arenas, and other electoral procedures. This system had been construed so as to be ac- ––––––––– 773 Skarstedt S., Lagen om Ekonomiska Föreningar af den 22 juni 1911, (1912), P. A. Norstedt & Sö- ners Förlag, pp. 40-42.

259 ceptable to the members from all the independent societies involved in the amalgamation. In order to capture the features of that system of democratic representation, it is instructive to begin with an account of the district organisation. In preparing for the amalgamation, Solidar was divided into six districts. The main principle behind this division was geographical, based on the establishment of stores in the city and surrounding countryside. There was one exception to the spatial principle: all the employees of the society were assembled in one district. This deviation from the general principle gave the employee district a character of its own. On the one hand, this was the only district which was able to have an overall view of the entire business; on the other hand, it was made up of people who all had a specific relation to the society. The point of introducing a district organisation was that the other independent societies which were to join in the formation of the new Solidar could basically be added as new districts. This was all the more important, since district meetings were assigned a key democratic function. Instead of having all members come to the annual society meeting, the members were to go instead to meetings in their own district. Each district meeting was to elect members to the member council, whose members in turn would function as representatives on the member council and at the annual society meetings. This way, members from the small joining societies would not be reduced to insignificance at huge member meetings, but would be sure to have representatives in these arenas. It is perhaps instructive to note that this was the type of system which, at one point, was suggested for the Newcastle Society. In that society, however, the idea was considered to be fraught with practical problems, denounced as “evil”, and finally dis- carded. The new order, with districts and district meetings, was indeed a dramatic change, and we will get back to it shortly. Before we do so, we must point to a couple of other novelties in the rules of 1925. The new rules also laid down the jurisdiction for the executive committee, consisting of three directors, appointed by and from the board, and the chief executive (whose title had formerly been office manager). Two things should be noted about this committee. First, a considerable amount of control over the management of the society was vested in this new level in the decision-making structure, even if decisions taken in the executive committee had to be approved by the board. Second, the chief executive, i.e. an employee, thus gained a powerful and highly visible position in Solidar. The tendency, then, is that authority is transferred upwards in the organisation, and is given a more managerial emphasis. The result is a multi-layered and quite intricate democratic structure. The executive committee is appointed by and from the board. Board members are to be elected every second year by – but not necessarily from – the annual society meeting. In order to get into the annual society meeting, you would have to be elected a member of the member council. And representatives of the member council were elected at district meetings. This procedure is surely in stark contrast with the Newcastle Society, where the member meeting was open to all members and retained an immediate influence over a range of issues. Who, then, was eligible to serve on the board in Solidar? The rules of 1925 contain few restrictions as to the formal requirement to stand for office. You

260 merely had to be a Swedish citizen and a member, and to have purchased for at least four hundred kronor with the society the previous year.774 There is no longer any clause in the rules that employees should be debarred from standing for office. In order to be elected, however, you had to obtain the support of the annual society meeting, and the delegates of this assembly were appointed by the district meetings. It is to these meetings that we turn next. The district meetings took place once a year, in March, and were structured according to an agenda stated in the rules: 1. Election of chairman, secretary and two members to check the minutes. 2. Presentation of the report of the activities of the member council. 3. Preparatory consideration of the board’s and accountants’ reports. 4. Preparatory consideration of propositions from the board to the annual society meeting. 5. Election of representatives on the member council and deputies according to § 14. 6. Other items.775 Apart from members living in the district, representatives from the board and auditors were also present – even though they may not have lived in the district in question. They would listen to, and participate in, the discussions at the meeting. Members could, of course, add topics to the agenda. Yet, how this should be done and what addenda were permissible were regulated in the rules. Any member who wanted to bring something up at the district meeting had to inform the board of this – in writing – before the end of January. Moreover, the rules contained a formulation designed to rid the district meetings of complaints about goods and services. Such complaints, it is stated, should first and foremost be addressed to their representatives on the member council, and then, if a second step was necessary, sent to the board. In any case, the district meeting was not the appropriate arena for airing dissatisfaction with the products sold by the society. Formally, the member council and its representatives were conceived of as mediators between the members and the board. This brings us to the election of these representatives, which was also the task of the district meeting. Each district was to elect a certain number of representatives, determined in direct proportion to the number of stores in the district: for each store, the district got one representative on the member council. The member council met at least four times a year, every quarter. They were engaged, among other things, in the propaganda work of the society. More importantly, in this context at least, the ordinary members of the member council also constituted another assembly, namely the annual society meeting. The order of this meeting was also conducted in accordance with an order written in the rules: ––––––––– 774 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a., Malmö, 1925. 775 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a., Malmö, 1925, author’s translation.

261 1. Election of chairman, secretary and two members to check the minutes. 2. Ask if the meeting has been called [summoned] in accordance with the rules. 3. The report of the board. 4. The report of the auditors. 5. Asking if the meeting adopts the report of the board and auditors. 6. The application of the surplus. 7. Deciding on the remunerations. 8. Election of board members for two years. 9. Election of deputies for one year. 10. Election of auditors and deputies. 11. Other items.776 Should there be any particular question which needed to be decided by an annual society meeting, a second meeting could be arranged in October. It is, nota bene, this which replaced the old society meeting where all members were welcome. The fact that it became increasingly difficult for the members to call a special society meeting – a result of growing member figures, in conjunction with the rule that five per cent of the membership was required to sign the request – must be seen in this light. The hypothetical possibility for non-elected members to summon special meetings not only became increasingly untenable in practical terms: it was an anomaly within the new rule framework. We have described the 1925 version of the rules at some length, partly because they introduced deep changes in the democratic structure, and partly because this structure was to last for a long time. Not until the 1960s, when a new major rule revision took place, were there any alterations in the representative structure. There were, however, a few revisions and amendments in the meantime. We will describe three cases where rules are at issue in the source material during this period. The first illustrates the continued influence of KF in the formulation of the rules, the second is a codification of the role of the member council, and the third concerns an adjustment of the district system. In 1935, the annual society meeting in April and an extra society meeting in November were asked to approve of a couple of changes in the rules concerning the savings bank. The background was a decision by the Co-operative Congress the previous year that all co-operative societies with savings banks should have the same rules. The annual society meeting in April approved the suggested changes without discussion. A reaction came instead at the second society meeting in November, when the proposed changes were presented in more detail. The most debated point was whether members’ children, who had saved money in the savings bank, should be given the possibility to borrow money, a maximum sum of 1,200 kronor, from Solidar when they reached the age of 21. It was decided that the board should make up a draft for new rules.777 The draft was presented at another extra society meeting in January 1936. A very long discussion ensued, ––––––––– 776 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen ”Solidar” u.p.a., Malmö, 1925, author’s translation. 777 Protokoll föreningsstämma 29/4 1935. Protokoll extra föreningsstämma 7/11 1935.

262 weighing pros and cons. To appease the sceptics, the chief executive declared that anyone who was granted a loan from Solidar would also be obliged to buy furniture – or other capital goods which the young ones would need in their first home – either from Solidar or from stores connected with the co-operative businesses. In the end, it was decided that the board’s suggestion would be implemented, provided that the following Co-operative Congress went ahead with the proposed changes in the savings bank scheme.778 What we have here is a case where the society receives external suggestions to implement rule changes. A great deal of effort is put into designing a draft that will reassure apprehensive members, and when they are still not calmed, the chief executive makes further concessions to save the proposition from the Co- operative Congress. There is a further twist to the story, however, which could indicate that even those who defended the initiative at the meeting did not primarily do so because they thought it was a good suggestion in its own right, but rather because they thought it important to comply with the Co-operative Con- gress. The story is this. There was indeed a report to the Co-operative Congress in 1937 concerning the reform of co-operative savings banks, and it does contain a recommendation that the co-operative societies should continue to encourage thrift among the members. Yet, there are no recommendations on loans.779 That issue had been dropped. Now, if we consult the 1937 version of Solidar’s rules, we find a new section on rules for the savings bank. In Paragraph 12 it is stated that members are allowed to open accounts for their children, and that the children will have access to their account after their 21st birthday. There are, however, no paragraphs granting loans to the young depositors: when the issue was dropped at the Co-operative Congress, Solidar dropped it as well.780 The second case we are about to consider concerns the role of the member council. If we examine the rules of 1937 and those of 1952, we find an extra set of rules attached to them which were not there in the archived version of rules from 1925: the rules and standing orders for the member council. It could be that there were standing orders in 1925 as well, but that they have been lost, or that the regulations in the standing orders were introduced in 1937. It is more likely, however, that the standing orders are a codification of practices developed from the inception of the member council. If so, the attachments to the rules of 1937 and 1952 help us determine ex post facto what role the council was assigned. We have already noted from other sources that the function of the member council was to be a link between the board and the members. This declaration is further elucidated and specified in the standing orders: the member council, it is declared, only has a consultative role in relation to the board. Instead of having a decision-making role, representatives on the member council should, for example, be able to answer questions from the members of their district, and forward ––––––––– 778 Protokoll föreningsstämma 27/1 1936 779 Sparverksamhet och bosättning. Betänkande avgivet till Kooperativa förbundets kongress 1937, Kooperativa förbundets bokförlag, Stockholm, pp. 58-60. 780 Sparkassereglemente, Reglemente för Kooperativa föreningen Solidar i Malmö u.p.a. sparkassa, in Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u.p.a., Malmö 1937.

263 complaints to the board. The members of the member council were also obliged to take part in the annual stock-taking of the stores. Other duties of the members, detailed in these attachments, are to keep up with the co-operative debate in the co-operative press and co-operative literature, and to encourage members in general to participate in the co-operative study circles. Representatives to the propaganda committee and its district branches were also elected from the member council.781 What these standing orders tell us, then, is that the member council had very limited powers when it came to the democratic decision-making process but that they had an instrumental role as mediators between the board and members and in the propaganda and educational work of the society. In contrast to our two previous examples, the third and last case involves a rule change which was both novel and carried. The old district system, implemented in 1925, was based on the location of Solidar’s stores. In 1950, however, a revision of the rules substituted for this basis of division a district organisation based on the different parishes of Malmö. Each district now became smaller. This alteration did not change much for members living in the countryside. The borders of the parishes pretty much corresponded both with the borders of their old independent societies, and with the borders of the districts they had become part of when they amalgamated with Solidar. Members who lived in Malmö, however, could be reassigned to other districts and district meetings than they had belonged to the previous year. The decision to transform the districts appears to have been of an actuarial nature. When the prospected district structure was discussed at a board meeting in November 1949, it was pointed out that the novel organisation would make it possible to calculate how many inhabitants living in the parishes were members of Solidar.782 A comparative note helps elucidate this point: whereas the Newcastle Society successively branches out into the city, Solidar has fitted a grid over Malmö, and the perceived benefit of the revised construction of the grid in 1950 is that it affords its officials a better overview of each cell in the grid. The examples reported above are testimony of the type of considerations which figured in the period after the rule revision in 1925. They are by no means insignificant, but they changed very little in the fundamental structure of the organisation. Yet, in the 1960s – or, to be more precise, in the period from 1959 to 1966 – we find alterations in the rule framework which affect the structure of democratic organisation in Solidar. In 1959, a decision was taken to revise the representative system, and the alterations came into effect in 1960. Just as in 1925, this decision was occasioned by an amalgamation. This time, Solidar was about to merge with Fenix, a fairly large consumer co-operative society in Lund. The pressure to revise the rules may have come from the amalgamation, but the new rules that emerged from the revision copied elements of representative ––––––––– 781 ”Arbetsordning för medlemsrådet inom Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar i Malmö”, in Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u.p.a., Malmö 1937. ”Arbetsordning för medlemsrådet inom Ko- operativa Föreningen Solidar i Malmö”, in Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u.p.a., Malmö, 1952. 782 Protokoll styrelsemöte 21 november 1949.

264 systems from other co-operative societies. At the time, for example, there was a general trend among large consumer co-operative societies in Sweden to introduce an assembly called Förvaltningsråd (the governing council).783 Solidar chose the same solution. A governing council was inserted as a new level in Solidar’s democratic structure. This was indeed an important change, for it had repercussions throughout the organisation. The executive committee was abolished, which made the board into the highest decision-making assembly, responsible for conducting the business operation. Yet, the board also changed its shape. It was now chaired by the chief executive and consisted solely of officials from the management. Formally, the members of the board were elected by the governing council, but the electees were on the staff. Just as the executive committee had previously had to get their decisions accepted by the board, especially in policy matters, the new board had to get acceptance from the newly instated governing council. The rules lay down that the number of members on the governing council may range from 10 to 18, and that the assembly should be elected by the annual society meeting. The change of rules in 1959 affected the annual society meeting as well. First, the procedure for electing delegates was revised. Instead of having the district meetings elect representatives to the member council, who automatically became delegates at the annual society meeting, the district meeting now had to conduct two separate elections – one for the delegates to the annual society meeting, and one for the members of the member council. The immediate link between member council and annual society meeting was thus severed, as members elected their delegates to the annual society meeting directly at the district meetings. Second, the number of delegates at the annual society meeting was reduced. The new rules, implemented in 1960, stated that the annual society meeting should consist of a maximum of 100 delegates, which should be compared to the 400-member representatives the year before. A diminishing number of delegates would thus represent the membership at annual meetings. In fact, the decrease in that ratio was even sharper, if we consider that the amalgamation with Fenix added another 9,000 members, making the total number of members in Solidar reach the figure of 52,901 members.784 Third, there was a change in the basis for calculating how many delegates each district would get on the annual society meeting and on the member council. Whereas the number of delegates assigned to each district, i.e. parish, had formerly been determined in direct proportion to the number of stores, the new method of assignment was instead based on the number of members of the district. To see the rationale behind this particular change, we must compare rule changes with store development. In 1950, when the decision was taken to make districts coincide with parishes, Solidar was still expanding. The number of soci- ––––––––– 783 Hwang, (1995), pp. 39-44. 784 Verksamhetsberättelser för år 1959, pp. 20-21, and Förvaltningsrådets, styrelsens och revisorernas berättelser över verksamheten 1960, pp. 4-7, 12, both in FKFS 1950-1960. See also Verksamhets- berättelser 1965 Konsum – Solidar – Domus and Verksamhetsberättelse 1966 Konsum – Solidar – Domus.

265 ety stores reached a peak in 1953. Yet, this year was also a turning point. From now on, there was a continuous drop in the number of stores, due to ongoing rationalisations. The 459 stores in 1953 were reduced to 338 in 1959, and in 1963 the number had dropped to 265. Now, with the old method of assignment, the districts which lost stores in the rationalisation process would be doubly punished: they would not only be deprived of nearby stores but also of representation in Solidar’s democratic assemblies. This was, presumably, one reason for changing the basis of calculation. What, then, about the member council? The altered method of computation applied to this assembly as well. More importantly, however, the new organisation of democratic representation in Solidar basically deprived it of its functions. The representatives on the member council were no longer automatically admitted as delegates to the annual society meeting. And since the district would now elect delegates directly to the annual society meeting, the status of the member council became rather unclear. This alone would have sufficed to make the role of the member council diffuse, but it was also deprived of its function in the propaganda apparatus. The old propaganda committee, and its different sub- committees, had been intimately linked with the member council. This, too, changed in 1960. It was succeeded by a propaganda committee that was made up solely of the chief executive and representatives from the board. To put it concisely: the member council had become an appendix in the new organisation. The districts continued to elect members to the member council, and this council lived on for a while. In 1966, however, it ceased to exist. It actually passed away rather quietly. There is no information about its demise in the annual reports from 1965 or 1966. The only indication that something had happened is that the headline “Medlemsråden” is missing in the report from 1966. In the last minute from the meeting of the member council, held on 4th April 1966, the representatives of the council are thanked for their services. The chairman added that, even though many appreciated the work of the member council, the Co-operative Movement must continue to develop, and this council could not be preserved for sentimental reasons.785 Yet, even if there was little sound and fury to accompany the passing of the member council, it was nevertheless a significant change, as was the introduction of the new democratic organisation in 1960. Solidar in the late 1960s was an altogether different society from the early 1950s.

4. Member meetings and member influence during the establishment of a routine So far, our account in this part has provided an outline of the conditions for, and within, the organisation of the Newcastle Society and Solidar, respectively. We ––––––––– 785 Protokoll sammanträde med Solidars medlemsråd 4/4 1966. See also Verksamhetsberätteler 1965 Konsum – Solidar – Domus and Verksamhetsberöttelse 1966 Konsum Solidar – Domus.

266 have described the open membership policy practised in both societies, and chartered the different conditions and problems which prevailed before a routine had settled. The latter point, we have argued, was of particular importance for the future developments of the two societies. The early years are fraught with difficulties for any infant co-operative society. Almost everything is new and unfamiliar to the aspiring co-operators, and while some of the insecurities may be overcome by consulting and imitating others, much will have to be worked out as one goes along. One of the issues that will have to be settled is who should do what. This, moreover, is not a decision which is taken once and for all. In the early phases, while the business operation and the membership are still small, you can make do with a comparatively low degree of division of labour and authority. As the business operation expands, the member figures rise, and the conditions in the world outside the organisation change, that division of labour and authority will have to be renegotiated. We can arrange the chapters above by relating them to this framework. Chap- ter 2 portrayed the situation in Solidar and in the Newcastle Society before a routine had been worked out. It allowed us to make a single-point comparison between the two societies at their founding moments, revealing similarities as well as differences. In both societies, the first years were characterised by a precarious balance of power between the board and the member meeting. Who should have the authority to do what was a contested and continuously negotiated issue. Yet, despite this similarity, there are also fundamental differences. The balance of power was precarious for different reasons, and the resulting conflicts and negotiations were structured along different axes in the two societies. The focal point of concern and contention in the Newcastle Society had to do with the relative authority of the board and the member meeting. Not so in Solidar. There, the overriding issue was rather how to deal with being a combined worker and consumer co-operative. Our single-point comparison, then, helped us to bring out differences between the two societies regarding the perceived problems and conflict lines, the attempts to cope with these problems, and the anticipated or unforeseen consequences of these problems and their solutions. Chapter 3 takes up where Chapter 2 left off. In a sense, Chapter 3 can be seen as a description of the continued impact of the founding moment in the two societies. It turns from a single-point comparison between cases to a longitudinal comparison within cases, and describes how the rules have changed over time in the Newcastle Society and in Solidar, respectively. To begin with the Newcastle Society, the general trend is that the member meeting has continued to guard its right to influence the society’s business operation. Only gradually, and only reluctantly, has the member meeting agreed to abstain from having a direct say in the affairs of the society. Consequently, much has been at stake at these meetings. This, in turn, has other important implications. First, there has been an incentive on the part of the members to participate in the meetings. Second, considering that so much was at stake during these, there was also a need for rules and standing orders to regulate the proceedings. This is why we find so many detailed prescriptions for proper electoral and other procedures at the meetings. Rules are, in part, a fixed set of resources and limita-

267 tions for the participants at the meetings, but rules can also be altered strategically, i.e. with the intention of bringing about a particular result in a particular question. Third, members who wish to influence their society are required to master this intricate body of rules. This gives an advantage to those who are already deeply immersed in the society’s affairs, such as current or would-be board members. The member meeting has retained a considerable influence over the conditions of management as well as over the distribution of the surplus. Seen over a long timespan, the authority of the member meeting is somewhat tar- nished – but this is a drawn-out process, and each such concession is questioned and debated. Solidar had a different point of departure. Its status as a combined worker and consumer co-operative society was the cause of much trouble, and it was this problem, rather than the balance of power between board and member meeting, which was perceived to be the most urgent. Member meetings were, for example, swamped with issues of day-to-day management, since members of the board took their internal disagreements to the member meeting. The rules and rule revisions which were implemented nevertheless affected its relative authority. Its discretion was subject to severe limitations as early as 1908, for these rules already contained detailed instructions for the distribution of the surplus. Over time the annual society meeting became embedded in an increasingly complex, and increasingly multi-layered, system of representation. Yet, Chapter 3 contains more than within-case analyses. The salient characteristics of Solidar’s organisation stand out most clearly if we compare them to those of the Newcastle Society. The member meeting in Solidar never had the far-reaching influence over the conditions of management which characterises the Newcastle Society. The incentive to partake in such meetings was not conditioned by what was at stake, and there was no need for detailed procedural prescriptions. There were thus fewer rules to keep track of, but also less reason to do so. A novice member, then, would face very different situations in the two societies. In Solidar, new members might have difficulties in comprehending where decisions are really taken, and in realising their possibilities to influence the society. In the Newcastle Society, it would seem fairly clear that the member meeting is an influential arena, but the joining members would be hard pressed to say how to go about exerting their influence. We shall not recapitulate, point by point, the analysis of differences between Solidar and the Newcastle Society in terms of single rules. What we should point out, however, is that the comparative analysis brings out differences in the very mechanisms which drive rule change in the two societies. In the Newcastle Soci- ety, rule revisions are incremental. They are the result of ongoing negotiations. In Solidar, on the other hand, such revisions, particularly those which concern the governance of the Society, are dramatic and usually not occasioned by internal debates over piecemeal alterations. We find them in connection with amalgamations or as responses to suggestions from the federal organisation. One reason for the absence of incremental changes is that there was a comparatively high threshold for implementing them. The Association Act of 1911 required that rule changes must be confirmed at two consecutive member meetings, and by a two-third majority, which is a far more restrictive procedure than the one we

268 find in the Newcastle Society. When the rules were revised, they were drastically altered. This is the story so far. It accounts for the conditions that prevailed in the early history of the organisations, and traces how their rule frameworks developed. Yet, we cannot remain on the level of rules. Rules are indeed important. They are traces of routines, power struggles and decision-making, and they offer restrictions and resources for action. But if they are traces, we would certainly like to know in more detail what they are traces of. And if they are restrictions on action, we would like to have an in-depth knowledge of what they restrain. To put it simply, we want to know what went on at the meetings. There is, of course, an additional reason for going beyond the rules: even if rules exist, we cannot assume that they are always followed to the letter. The chapter we are about to begin takes us to member meetings in the early histories of the two societies. It attempts to capture a routine in the making. The organisations are still groping for a working order. In doing so, they are also planting the first seed for a routine, which will later be reinforced and sometimes transformed into formal rules. One more note before we begin. This chapter marks a turning-point in our account. Previous parts and chapters have dealt with the outer contours of change – be it of service or rule development – and with the structures, conditions and frameworks within which organisational life has developed in these two consumer co-operative societies. From now on, our focus will shift to those who populate the organisations. Formal conditions will still play an important part, but the central object of analysis will be the various forms of participation which the members engaged in.

4.1 Needing the consent of the member meeting – the Newcastle Society In the case of the Newcastle Society, a routine was established successively, as the board and the member meeting worked their way forward by trial and error. During the 1860s, the member meeting was still actively taking part in decisions of management, in the sense that it could instruct the board how to proceed with the minutia of implementing what the members had decided. A few examples help elucidate this point. At the quarterly member meeting in October 1863, members complained about the price policy of the society. Several goods in the Nelson Street store, they maintained, were more expensive than in other stores in the city. This was not satisfactory and the committee was instructed to do something about it. It was also at this meeting that the members decided to close the branch store in Scotswood Road and replace it with a delivery service. Hence, the committee, as the board was called at this time, was forced to reconsider the priorities and arrangements it had worked out for the society so far. It was instructed to do something about the prices and to arrange for an inexpensive delivery service.786 The ––––––––– 786 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1863.

269 new instructions were discussed at the following committee meeting. The committeemen decided to appoint a sub-committee to investigate the price question. It was also instructed to engage a young person to deliver goods to the members. This would most certainly reduce costs, since it was less expensive to hire a young person than a proper delivery man.787 Thus began a sub-committee system which would characterise the management of the Newcastle Society until the beginning of the 1930s.788 When a management question needed to be solved, the board would appoint a number of directors to a sub-committee, where they would work together with the managers of different departments. The emergence of this system illustrates the difficulties in pin-pointing an exact date for when a routine has settled. Sub-committees were routinised, they lived on in an institutionalised form, but when can we say that they had become entrenched as a “natural” way of conducting society business? In any case, the system guaranteed the board much insight into the management of the society, while at the same time relieving board meetings of much detailed discussions and inquiries about management. Back in the 1860s, we also find that the member meeting interfered with management in questions related to how the society should expand and what land to purchase for prospected shops. The incident with Scotswood Road is already an example of this, for it shows that the member meeting could take the decision to close a branch. But members also had opinions about where to establish new branches. At the 29th quarterly meeting in 1868, for example, there was disagreement as to whether Stoddard Street or Shield Street was the best site to purchase for a branch in the eastern part of the city – and the meeting was adjourned for 14 days.789 When the issue was brought up again at the adjourned meeting, the chairman explained that the committee had investigated the matter further, and now recommended that the society purchase a site in Shield Street and Lana- tary Place. A member objected and asked if the committee had not considered a site in Gibson Street, which he thought would be a better choice. This time, however, the electees of the society used the power resource peculiar to them, i.e. their superior overview of society affairs, to argue their case. The chairman replied that, according to the society’s register, many of the members lived in the area where the proposed site was situated, and added that it was the long-term policy of the committee to acquire the best possible sites in all parts of the city. It was resolved that the proposed site be purchased.790 What is interesting here is the chairman’s appeal to the committee’s strategic considerations, and the fact that the appeal was accepted. “Best possible site” is equated with a site where many members already lived. This is not only an early confirmation of the branch perspective that would prevail in the Newcastle Society; it ––––––––– 787 Minutes Committee Meeting, Monday 2nd November 1863. 788 Nearly all minute books from sub-committees (Grocery sub-committee; Farm, Dairy, Horse & Cart, Traffic etc. sub-committee; Finance sub-committee; Drapery sub-committee; Greengrocery, Butchering, Furnishing sub-committee; Building sub-committee and Furnishing sub-committee) ended in July or August 1931, See departmental minute books, 120/58-105 and 120/108-111. 789 Minutes 29th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th July 1868. 790 Minutes Adjourned 29th Quarterly General Meeting, 12th August 1868.

270 also opens up the possibility for the committee to use their strategic considerations as effective arguments for a particular site, and to appeal to the interest of members who were presumed to be absent from the meeting. The member meeting, then, is not the only active party in the struggle for authority. The committee is actively in pursuit of more control. The aim was to prevent the member meeting from interfering with the management of the society. In a similar vein, the committee was also reluctant to hand over authority to employed managers. This is evident from the fate of Mr Raney’s suggestion at a committee meeting on 6 March 1866 that a person be elected from the committee to take charge of the management of the society. When the motion came up at the following committee meeting, Mr Raney argued that the appointment of such a person would relieve the general committee of much routine work – but the motion found no seconder. The committee chose instead to support Mr Steele’s suggestion that a head of the servants of the store should be appointed. This person would have a more restricted jurisdiction than a general manager would have had.791 In the long run, this resistance was bound to be futile. The society was growing, and the committeemen had their own day jobs to manage as well. At a quarterly meeting in July 1872, the members voted for a resolution that a general manager should be appointed by the committee. The minutes from this meeting are missing, so we do not know whether the initiative came from the committee itself, or whether the members voted over the heads of the committee. In the quarterly report from October, however, the committee announced that, in accordance with the resolution passed at the last quarterly meeting, it had appointed Mr Robert Jacques as general manager.792 In any case, the result was a first step in the professionalisation of the management of the society. But it would take many years before all the decisions regarding even day-to-day management were handled by the general manager. The stocking of the store is a case in point. Be- fore the arrival of a general manager, this was the responsibility of the committee. Successively, this task was entrusted to the general manager – and soon also to the managers of the different departments – but they were kept under close surveillance. They were controlled by the committee and by concerned members in the stores. And the question what kind of goods the society should stock is a topic for discussion at member meetings throughout the period of our inquiry.793 Now, if the growth of the society made it increasingly untenable for the committee to handle all the details of management, this was even more so for the member meeting. With the installation of the general manager in 1872, the day- to-day management of the society was entrusted to the committee and the general manager . Yet, they still needed the consent of the member meeting for many of

––––––––– 791 Minutes Committee Meetings, 6th, 13th, 20th March 1866. 792 ”In accordance with the resolution passed at last quarterly meeting, the Committee have appointed a General Manager, and have secured the service of Mr Robert Jacques…”. See The Forty-Sixth Quarterly Report of the Society’s Accounts ending October 1st 1872, in 120/3 Quarterly and Board Meetings Minute Book 30 October 1872 – 27 January 1874. 793 For a more detailed account of this debate see Part Four, Section 3.1.

271 their decisions in this area as long as the member meeting would not completely let go of the day-to-day-management. This arrangement had its inconveniences, for there were decisions which could not wait until the ordinary quarterly meeting. Thus, in 1873 it was resolved that additional member meetings would be held in the middle of each quarter.794 The experiment with eight member meetings a year was short-lived. Even if it could be expected that issues in need of expedient handling would appear, they were not frequent enough to warrant the new level of meeting intensity. The society returned to the quarterly frequency of meetings at the end of the year.795 To illustrate what issues the board presented to the member meeting in 1873, we can look at the minutes from two special meetings that year, one in March and the other in September. At the March meeting, the board asked for the members’ confirmation of the routine business of the past two quarters. The members were also asked for their opinion of the advisability of setting up a central depot and opening branch stores at Westgate Hill and Byker Hill. The next point on the agenda concerned the question whether the society should establish a penny savings bank. The final point was a proposal to ratify an arrangement made with the Tyne Co-operative Cabinet-Makers’ Society to supply members with household furniture.796 The September meeting contained a similar blend of issues. One topic was whether non-members who shopped in the store should receive half a dividend on their purchases – a proposition which was turned down – and another point on the agenda concerned questions of security in the central store.797 At both meetings, questions about everyday management are mixed with more far-reaching policy questions. That is to say: in the 1870s, the board still needed the consent of the member meeting in matters concerning everyday management. Twenty years later, the character of the issues brought up at member meetings had shifted somewhat. In the 1890s, the member meeting mainly decided on policy questions, such as what kind of business activities the society should be engaged in. There were examples to the contrary, where the meeting was still engaged in everyday management, and we shall get back to the main exception shortly. The tendency was, however, that while the board still needed the consent of the members, the issues they would bring before the member meeting were of a more strategic and policy oriented nature. The Newcastle Society was now a big business, affiliated with the CWS, and with a vast operation. Strategic matters alone sufficed to fill the meeting to the brim. Thus, in January 1890, there was another proposal to introduce intermediate meetings. The purpose was once again that the board – as the committee was now called – had to receive the consent of the member meeting for their decisions, but this time the decisions in question concerned the future operations of the society.798 ––––––––– 794 “Resolved to hold additional member meetings by meeting in the middle of each quarter.” Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1873. 795 “First ‘Intermediate Meeting’ of members held. No items were submitted for the Agenda and therefore no decisions were taken”. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1873. 796 Minutes Special General Meeting, 5th March 1873. 797 Minutes Special General Meeting, 17th September 1873. 798 Minutes 115th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th January 1890.

272 At a special meeting in June 1890, called by the board, there was a lengthy discussion about how to extend the business of the society.799 No issues regarding future operations were resolved at this meeting, but a month later, at another special meeting, the subject was once again up on the agenda. At this meeting in July a sub-committee appointed by the board presented its results. They recommended that the society should enter into farming operations. Opinions were obviously divided amongst the membership as to whether the member meeting should give the board a mandate to go ahead with their proposed line of action. A motion to adjourn the meeting was proposed, seconded, and voted on. The result was a majority of 48 over 39 for not adjourning the meeting. Thus, the meeting could vote on the subject matter, presented in the following terms: “That the Board of Management be empowered to purchase land for the purpose of commencing operations as Dairy, Vegetable or grazing farmers…” The voting figures coincide: 48 members voted for the resolution, 39 against, and the resolution was carried.800 The opponents’ attempt to adjourn the meeting illustrates how knowledgeable members were able to use the rule framework as a resource. The possibility to engage in filibustering was circumscribed by the rules, since you were only allowed to speak for a certain number of minutes, but the rules allowed members to move to adjourn at any point in the proceedings, provided that the proposition was seconded. By moving to adjourn, the opponents could attempt to stall the board’s initiative, and perhaps also mobilise more proponents of their own view for the next meeting. In our present context, however, there are two main lessons to be learned from this example. First, that the board was still in need of the consent of the member meeting; second, that the required consent has moved from everyday management to the conditions of management. By the time of the 1890s, strategic and policy-oriented issues have crowded out questions related to everyday management. But the attempt of the group of opponents at the meeting is by no means irrelevant to these matters. Had the opponents managed to get the meeting adjourned, there would have been further delays. And had they also managed to mobilise their forces to the next meeting, the issue would have had to be resubmitted to the board. The board had good reason to fear that their strenu- ous efforts to work out a strategy for the society would break down from member resistance. Yet, as we noted above, the member meeting was reluctant to abstain completely from matters of day-to-day management. In 1893, for example, a group of members proposed an investigation into the management of the society. At the quarterly meeting in October 1893, this proposition received the support of 145 members. This, however, was just short of a majority, for 152 voted against it – and the proposal was lost.801 If this attempt was an insular incident, initiated by discontented members, there was also one area of everyday management which the member meeting had never let go of, namely the employees. Issues involving ––––––––– 799 Minutes Special General Meeting, 11th June 1890. 800 Minutes Special General Meeting, 16th July 1890. 801 Minutes 130th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1893.

273 employees was of interest to many of the members who were present at these meetings. Some members were also employees, and there was a further group, whose children or other friends and relatives were employed by the society. Yet, the circle of interested members must have been even larger, considering the sort of issues that were brought up at the meetings. Not only did the board need the consent of the member meeting for who to employ and who to discharge. The meeting should also approve of advances on wages for every single employee. The list of appointments and the list of advances on wages were presented at every other quarterly meeting. The names, positions, present wages, and proposed rises of each employee were read to the members. The meeting was then asked to either approve or disapprove these rises and appointments.802 Needless to say, this procedure was rather time-consuming, and it competed for time with other items on the agenda. The fact that it was kept for so long is an indication of an extraordinary interest, on the part of the members, in issues related to employees. But the number of employees continued to grow, and at the quarterly meeting in January 1900 members agreed that there should be separate votes only for those whose wages exceeded 50 shillings a week.803 Five years later, the practice of voting for wages was abandoned altogether. The rules of 1905 contained an alteration of rule 16 – on “Management” – to the effect that the board was granted the authority to make decisions regarding employment, wages and salaries without the consent of a member meeting. From now on, member meetings were rid of these issues. All major issues pertaining to day-to-

––––––––– 802 Most often members agreed with the decisions of the board see for example Minutes 90th General Quarterly Meeting, 30th July 1872. At this meeting the secretary read from a list where 11 employees were to be given a rise and seven persons were to be employed. All appointments and rises were agreed on. But then there were times when member protested. In 1888 we find an example of how members kept a check on how the board executed the decisions of the member meeting. The board was asked why Miss Phalp had not received the 1-shilling increase that the last quarterly meeting had agreed to. The chairman announced that the board had made a miscalculation and had withheld the rise. This decision was confirmed. Minutes 110th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st Oc- tober 1888. In 1895 members were displeased with the board’s decision to dismiss the manager of the furnishing department. A representative from the sub-committee read a report explaining that the chief cause was a violation of the society’s rule forbidding trading upon credit and proposed a resolution that the dismissal of Mr Norman be confirmed. It probably was confirmed since there is nothing in the minutes indicating otherwise. Minutes 138th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th October 1895. In January 1897 an amendment that all employees at present in receipt of 35/- per week or upwards be deleted from the list was put to the vote but lost. This means that a section of the members tried to stop increases of wages of 35 shillings a week, but that they failed. Minutes 143rd Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1897. In July 1898 members at the quarterly meeting were not pleased with an appointment that the board recommended. The board had appointed Mr Thirl- well as manager of the Benwell High Cross Branch . The members who protested wished for the appointment of Mr Revell on that post instead. The resolution that the board reconsider their decision was carried. Minutes 149th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1898. In July 1899 the member meeting did not approve of and advance of the wage of Mr W. Muitt, manager of the green grocery department from 55 shillings to 60 shillings per week. Minutes 153rd Quarterly General Meet- ing, 25th July 1899. 803 Minutes 155th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1900.

274 day management had been edged away, little by little. After 1905, members who did not agree with a board decision on management had to use new channels.804 What we have seen through these examples is a gradual shift in the balance of power between the board and the member meeting, which took place during the last three decades of the 19th century. The gradual character of this shift fits the long-term pattern of rule change described in Chapter 3. There were no sudden leaps, and a routine for the member meeting became increasingly entrenched over the years. The balance of power that settled in 1905 – when the member meeting withdrew from everyday management but retained the power to influence the conditions of management – would remain for the entire period of our inquiry. How the members used this power in the 20th century, and the effects of that use, is the topic of Part Four.

4.2 From conflict arena to advisory forum – member meetings in Solidar If we piece together the information we have gathered from Chapters 2 and 3, we get the following picture. The early years of Solidar were conflict-ridden. The division of labour and authority between board and member meeting was quite muddled to the point that it was an obstacle to the development of a working routine. We have seen that successive rule revisions gradually altered this situation, as worker representation on the board decreased and was finally ruled out. We have also seen that the amalgamation in 1925 was accompanied by a revision of the rules which completely changed the representative system of the society. Our task now is to take a look behind the stage. By listening in on a few meetings in the 1910s, we can get a sense of what the muddle was about and how it was handled in the meeting halls, and catch a glimpse of a routine in the making. For, as radical as the 1925 revision of rules was, it is possible to discern as early as the 1910s elements of a routine that would be established in the late 1920s and in the 1930s. Some roots of the transformation of the member meeting from a conflict arena to an advisory forum are thus to be found earlier than the formal rules would lead us to expect. All these issues – the unclear power situation, the conflicts on the board between workers and lay members, and the emerging routine – converge into one single decision: the employment of an office manager in 1912. When the issue of employing someone to manage the office came up on the agenda, it became the culmination of the conflict between laymen and workers on the board and in the society. It was presented to the members at the half- yearly meeting in 1911. All laymen on the board were in favour of a proposition to employ a male office manager. This view, however, was not shared by the workers on the board. Speaking on behalf of all the bakery workers, they pro- ––––––––– 804 ”(NB. Petition ’purporting’ to be signed by some 329 members in the Cowgate area seeking the re-instatement of the manager was acknowledged. The manager had been dismissed for sending a boy to the bank with £193.19.9 in cash and had been robbed of the whole amount by two men).” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1929.

275 posed instead that the society should employ a female office assistant. The decision was to appoint a committee to prepare a list of candidates for the job of office manager.805 The reason why the bakers preferred a female office assistant before a male office manager was not a desire to cut costs. It was a matter of authority relations. They had no wish to have a superior officer – who was not recruited internally from their own ranks – in charge of both the office personnel and themselves. The directives given to the committee, appointed i.e. to put together a list of candidates to the position of an office manager, loaded the dice in favour of the laymen’s point of view. Thus, when the committee presented its results at an extra general meeting in December, the list only contained male candidates. Both the directives to and the results of the committee were at odds with the wishes of the bakery workers. Yet, they had not given up. The extra general meeting in December was the culmination of the conflict between the two groups. At the outset, the bakery workers spoke from a weak position. They levelled criticism against one of the directors, J. A. Lundgren, who had temporarily stepped in as office manager.806 The debate continued, and the varying terminology used for the position to be filled reveals both the differences of opinion and the rhetorical strategies of the participants. Those who were positive to the idea of employing a male office manager and wished to play down the possibility of an authority transfer referred to it as “office assistant”. The sceptics, for example Mr M. Löf- gren, chose instead to speak of a business manager or even of a chief executive. When the question was finally to be put to the vote, the member meeting refused to simply select a name from the list prepared by the committee. Instead, the vote was about whether a male office manager should be employed at all. The answer of the meeting was in the negative: 20 voted against and 18 voted for the proposition. Messrs H. Hansson, A. Lind and J. A. Lundgren protested, and wished to have their reservation against the decision noted in the minutes. An alternative suggestion, that a female assistant should be employed, was proposed. But there was also an amendment, proposing that the board should decide on the “office issue”. A majority voted for the amendment. Hence, the matter was back on the board’s table again.807 The tables had turned, and the laymen on the board faced a difficult situation. They were in majority on the board, but the member meeting had explicitly rejected their proposal. At the following board meeting, directors accused each other of handling the situation at the recent meeting poorly. The meeting had got out of hand. We have in fact seen extracts from it before, in Chapter 5 of Part One. This was the meeting where abusive remarks had been made, and where Löfgren had apparently called J. A. Lundgren a good-for-nothing. But what was even more serious was that the board was left in limbo and did not know how to ––––––––– 805 Protokoll fört vid Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidars andeldegarestämma söndag 20/8 1911. 806 It was J. Jönsson and Österling who thought Lundgren was paid too much and that he was not a real co-operator, Mr M. Löfgren called Lundgren a good-for-nothing.. Protokoll fört vid extra- stämman 26/12 1911. 807 Protokoll fört vid extrastämman 26/12 1911.

276 proceed with the instructions it had received from the member meeting. There seemed to be no way forward. J. A. Lundgren threatened to leave his temporary position as office manager. In response to this threat, all the directors present at the board meeting asked him to stay for the time being, and declared that the board would resign if he stepped down. It was finally decided that a new special general meeting would be called to settle the office issue. There was, however, a second suggestion for the agenda of the prospected meeting. It was suggested that it should also vote on a revision of rules, where one of the proposed changes was that no seats should be reserved for workers on the board. This was an esca- lation of the conflict, and the bakers on the board protested against it.808 The new special meeting was held on 18 January 1912. It began where the last member meeting had left off. Many members protested against the minutes from the special general meeting in December, and it was decided that the minutes be re-written. The office issue was debated again, and the discussion dragged on. A proposition was moved to limit speaking time to two minutes for those who had already participated in the debate. This motion was lost. 41 people voted for it, 65 against it. The debate continued unabatedly and with no limitations on speaking time. Unfortunately, the minutes from this meeting contain little information about what the participants said. The secretary was no doubt apprehensive of being too exhaustive, considering that his colleague from the last meeting had been reproached for his frank and detailed descriptions. Thus, we do not know what the arguments were. But we do know the outcome. This time, there were 78 votes for and only 4 votes against employing a male office manager. It was also resolved that the board should appoint the office manger and determine his salary.809 This was a triumph for the laymen on the board. We do not know whether the landslide victory was the result of mobilisation, but it is conspicuous that there were many more members present at this meeting than at the one in December 1911. They won a second victory ten days later. Yet another special meeting had been called, and the question to be decided this time was the rule revision suggested at the board meeting. The revision was passed at the member meeting, and, from now on, no seats on the board would be reserved for those in the employ of the society.810 The rules would be tightened a few years later. By 1916, the rules preclude employees from standing for office. Let us, however, get back to the office manager. The board had now clear instructions to find the right person for the job. They decided to employ Mr Emil Olsson. Three board members voted for Olsson, two for J. A. Lundgren, and two refrained from voting.811 The office Olsson was about to take can be compared with that of the secretary in the Newcastle Society. A key difference between the two societies in this respect is that Olsson was employed rather than elected by the members. And since his jurisdiction was soon extended, it would be more ––––––––– 808 Protokoll styrelsen 29/12 1911. 809 Protokoll fört vid extra stämman med Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar, 18/1 1912. 810 Protokoll fört vid extra stämman med Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar, 28/1 1912. 811 Protokoll styrelsemöte 11/2 1912.

277 correct to say that he got the combined job of secretary and general manager. His appointment resolved the conflict over what type of person should be employed to manage the office. In hindsight, we can conclude that it was also the beginning of something new. The employment of an office manager, and the way in which Emil Olsson handled this role, had a considerable effect on the way member meetings were conducted. It also altered the authority relations in Solidar, creating a tripartite relation between management, board, and member meeting. When Emil Olsson was employed in 1912, he immediately assumed the role of the informed manager who knew what was in the best interest of Solidar and of the Co-operative movement in general. His self-assured attitude was, presumably, reinforced as he quickly attained thorough knowledge about the business operation. Moreover, his jurisdiction was soon extended. At the same time, these very characteristics sometimes brought him into conflict with directors who thought that the board should have more to say about the management of the society. There were indeed those who thought that the board had been side- stepped with the introduction of the executive committee. The executive committee was established in 1913. It consisted of three directors, appointed by the board, and a fourth member, who was the office manager. This group would be in charge of the day-to-day management of the society, even if it needed the consent of the board for its decisions. Yet, all was not well in the small committee. There were disagreements over management questions, with the result that Emil Olsson came into conflict with one of the elected members on the committee. In response to this conflict, the board chose to dissolve the committee and elect a new one.812 Emil Olsson’s adversary was thus shut out from the executive committee, but he and other critical voices were still on the board. In this situation, Olsson made use of the possibility to engage a third party, namely the member meeting. At the annual society meeting in 1914, he levelled criticism against those directors who, in his opinion, worked against the best interests of Solidar. He accused them of having separate meetings before the board meetings, and blamed them for improper interference with management. The member meeting decided that the old board should be dissolved and a new one be elected. Four members from the old board were re-elected, but three lost their seats. Mr Reimer, Ols- son’s adversary from the executive committee, was among those who were left outside the new board.813 Now, conflicts at member meetings, between elected members and employees, may seem all too familiar. After all, this was a persistent problem during Solidar’s first years. But appearances are deceiving. This time, the conflict is of a different character. It concerns the division of labour and authority between management and board. Even though there were personal disagreements, the fun- ––––––––– 812 For the conflict between Olsson and A. W. Reimer and its consequences see: Protokoll styrel- semöte 4/6 1913. See also minutes from board meetings from 1913 onwards. Emil Olsson starts by reporting matters to the board but soon enough comes with his own suggestions and eventually gains an influential position. 813 Protokoll fört vid ordinarie årsstämma 15/3 1914. A. W. Reimer was not re-elected.

278 damental issue at stake was how actively the board was allowed to engage in management questions, and how much power should be given to the office manager and the committee he chaired. When Olsson appealed to the annual society meeting in 1914, he also asked for a definition of his jurisdiction. And judging by the outcome of the meeting, he did get the mandate he was looking for: it ruled that it was the office manager, not the directors, who should handle the management of the society. More generally, Solidar was entering into a process where tasks and mandates were reshuffled, relocated and respecified. This was not a one-off decision, but was rather crystallised in practice. A couple of examples will elucidate this point. They are taken from a board meeting in August 1914, and from the following half-yearly member meeting the same month. One issue at the board meeting in question was whether the treasurer should get a rise. Mr Lindström thought it would be best to submit this question to the half-yearly meeting which was only two weeks away. Chairman N. O. Wester disagreed with Lindström. This, he argued, was an ordinary question of everyday management, and Emil Olsson had already presented them with a reasonable suggestion for remuneration and risk money to the treasurer. It was not desirable to put this question on the agenda of the half-yearly meeting, he maintained, for it would only result in lengthy, tiresome and unnecessary discussions initiated by jealous and garrulous members. His conclusion was that the board had the authority to decide the question, and so they did.814 At the same board meeting, the directors also discussed the question whether the society should raise the price of bread because of the recent crisis – the First World War had just broken out. This issue was considered to be more of a policy matter, and it was thus to be worked out by the board rather than by the executive committee. Yet, the directors could not agree on a decision, and the question ended up on the agenda of the half-yearly meeting.815 The members, however, had no wish to step in as arbitrators. Some of them explained that they did not have sufficient information, e.g. about the fluctuations in the price of flour, to be able to decide the price of bread. Faced with the initiative again, the board recommended at the meeting that the price should not be raised unless it was absolutely necessary. The meeting agreed that Solidar should continue to be a price regulator in Malmö, but that it was up to the board to work out the concrete details.816 Both these examples are signs of a new practice in the making. When Mr Wester was reluctant to submit an issue to the member meeting, and when the member meeting was reluctant to be the judge in matters where the members lacked sufficient information, their choices adjusted and specified the division of labour and authority. It is only in hindsight, of course, that we can know that these decisions were the beginnings of a routine. They form part of a series of similar adjustments. And they define, with increasing precision, which matters belonged with management, board, and member meeting, respectively. ––––––––– 814 Protokoll fört vid styrelsemötet 5/8 1914. 815 Protokoll fört vid styrelsemötet 5/8 1914. 816 Protokoll fört vid halvårsstämman 23/8 1914.

279 If we continue to examine member meetings in the second half of the 1910s, we find that members continued to challenge the decisions of the board. What was new, however, was that the office manager – i.e. Emil Olsson – assumed an almost pedagogical role. He would step in to answer questions posed by the members, motivate the board’s decisions, and explain to sceptical members why the decisions were correct. This gave member meetings a peculiar tone of questions-and-answers, which set a pattern for the future. Thus, to the extent that the rule revision in 1925 was, in formal terms, a transformation of the member meeting from a conflict arena to an advisory forum, the latter already had a precedent. What we also find is that the office manager’s more authoritative stance had a soothing effect on relations between management and board, and on the board itself. They put up a united front most of the time. There were cases where the board was split, but, in contrast to the early years, these would typically not end up at the member meeting. But if they did, as we shall see in Part Four, the dissension among the directors concerned important policy questions, not personal disagreements or power struggles. With the changes in the rules in 1925 a seat was reserved on the board for the office manager, who by then had been given the title affärschef (chief executive). However, this seat came up for re-election every year at the annual society meeting.817 Theoretically, the member meeting could choose another person than the chief executive to take this seat, but they never did. On the whole there was a stability in the leadership of Solidar throughout the period studied. Seven out of the nine members on the board including the chief executive, elected in 1925, stayed on the board for ten years. Five of them, including the chief executive, served another ten years. Johan Larsson served on the board from 1925 to 1960 and Emil Olsson did not leave the society until 1950. Nearly all directors elected to the board of Solidar stayed for several decades.818 Thus, there was continuity when it came to those who populated the board of Solidar. On the whole the representative structure established in 1925 gave a stability to the organisation of the society. This would affect the conduct and contents of member meetings in the years to come. However, that is the topic for Part Four.

5. The Co-operative forums in Newcastle and Malmö Continuing our study of those who populate the organisation we now turn to the groups and organisations that in the present study are lumped together under the co-operative forum concept. Co-operative forums are: places where members of co-operative societies learned the workings of co-operation, its rules and culture; places where members could discuss and quarrel, mobilise or be mobilised, articulate group interests or just have a good time. In other words, these forums ––––––––– 817 Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen ”Solidar”, Malmö, 1925. 818 FKFS 1907-1940, FKFS 1941-1949, FKFS 1950-1960. See also the annual reports in the 1960s.

280 could perform an auxiliary function in relation to the co-operative societies, but it is just as likely that they could develop into not-so-docile pressure groups. This definition opens up for different possibilities when it comes to the development of these forums and their relationship with the local consumer co-operative society. Such an opening is important since we need to get away from the ready- made perception that the term auxiliary provides, but at the same time be prepared for the possibility that in some locations and during certain periods these forums were indeed mainly support groups. In this chapter we shall examine the set up of co-operative forums in Newcas- tle and Malmö. In the following presentation our focus is on the different characteristics that distinguished these forums. We will also view the relationship between the different forums and between the forums and the two consumer co- operative societies. Additionally, the ways in which members learned meeting skills and acquired knowledge of co-operation and its related subjects are addressed - skills and knowledge they could use to participate and exercise power in the democratic decision-making process of the Newcastle Society and Solidar. As in the previous chapters we will start off in Newcastle.

5.1 Co-operative forums in Newcastle The first branch of the Women’s Co-operative Guild (WCG) in Newcastle was formed in 1892 and became known as the central guild. Several other branches were then founded all over the city and in 1952 there were 17 branches of the WCG in Newcastle.819 The Newcastle Society provided these branches with meeting rooms. The central guild had their guild room in Darn Crook, near the central premises of the Newcastle Society. Other branches were also provided with rooms to meet in, these rooms were usually situated above the co-operative stores.820 In this way the Newcastle Society financially supported the guild branches. The society also gave grants to the branches of the WCG when they hosted a guild congress in Newcastle or to send guild ladies as representatives to such a congress in other cities.821 However, grants to meet the cost of rent and delegations only became regular in the 1930s and the guild branches could not count on always obtaining the grants they asked for. In the 1920s the members of the central branch of the WCG still had to be inventive in raising money for such expenses as sending delegates to conferences. At a meeting on 24 April 1922 it was proposed that they should arrange a musical and that the money raised would go ––––––––– 819 See Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services, (1952), p. 58. 820 “Room above Heaton Road Drapery furnished as a meeting room (for a branch of the Women’s Co-operative Guild).” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1897. “New branch opened – Fern Avenue, which included a meeting room.” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1898. 821 “Resolved that the Society invite the Women’s Co-operative Guild to hold their Congress in New- castle in 1902 and that a grant of £25 be made towards the expenses.” Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1901. In 1931 the Benwell branch of the WCG asked for grants towards their delegates expenses at the National Annual Congress of the Guilds It was decided to deal with this request as usual i.e. to give this branch like all other branches 30/- each to meet these expenses. Minutes Di- rectors’ Meeting, 14th April 1931.

281 towards the expenses of the delegates sent to the WCG congress.822 Still, from the 1930s onwards the contributions from the Newcastle Society became more regular and the guild ladies could use the money they raised themselves towards other costs.823 In this way the branches of the WCG in Newcastle became more dependent on the Newcastle Society. It was most likely this increased financial dependency combined with an interest in co-operation that motivated guild members to take an active interest in the affairs of the Newcastle Society. The guildswomen wanted to get their representatives on the board of the New- castle Society. At a weekly meeting of the central branch in November 1921 the members present were encouraged to go to a joint guild meeting at the Benwell Guild Room to vote for Mrs Harris, who was the WCG’s candidate for the board of the Newcastle Society.824 With the votes from the guild members backing them guild candidates were successful at the elections for directors in the New- castle Society and in other elections of the society.825 From the end of the 1920s and henceforth representatives from the Newcastle Society came to the guild meetings and gave lectures. Many of these representatives were women and they thereby demonstrated that it was possible for women win and accept official positions.826 Directors of the Newcastle Society, women as well as men, visited social events arranged by the guilds, and in this way they established a social contact with the guildswomen.827 The power that the guildswomen could exercise as voters at the quarterly meetings of the Newcastle Society was something that candidates to the board could not ignore. It was therefore not only the guild candidates who spoke at

––––––––– 822 See minutes from weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, Newcastle upon Tyne, 24th April 1922. 823 See Account Book 1924-1943 of the Central Branch Women’s Co-operative Guild in Newcastle upon Tyne. 824 Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, 14th November 1921. 825 On 2 February 1931 Mrs Charlton was the speaker of the evening. She had visited a co-operative boat factory and talked about how ideal the employees’ conditions were there. After the talk she thanked the guild members for helping her to get re-elected as director on the board of the Newcas- tle Society. Mrs Dobson also thanked the guild ladies at that meeting for helping her to be elected delegate to the CWS congress. Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Cen- tral Branch, 2nd February 1931. 826 Mrs Laverick from the board of management of the Newcastle Society visited the weekly guild meeting. Mrs Laverick gave an address on her visit to the Luton Cocoa & Chocolate Works, see Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, 10th July 1929. Mrs Harrison Bell, who had been a member of the Rules and Revision Committee in 1904, gave a lecture about a co-operative convalescent fund (W. Frues Convalescent Fund [?]) and “…several of our members spoke of the benefit they had derived from the help given.” see Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, 7 November 1932. “Our speaker was Miss Hogg her subject was Education in the Co-operative Movement.” Miss Hogg, was a member of the educational committee of the Newcastle Society. See Minutes for weekly meeting, Women’s Co- operative Guild Central Branch, 6th March 1933. 827 Invitations from the guild branches came often and the board then decided to send representatives from the board to the event, usually two representatives. See i.e. Minutes Director’s Meeting, 28th April 1931. Minutes Director’s Meeting, 8th February 1946.

282 guild meetings and tried to rally the support of the guildswomen.828 Hence, the branches of the WCG became a power in the internal politics of the Newcastle Society in the sense that they could, if members of the branches were mobilised, influence who ended up on the board and who did not. Examining the internal work of the branches of the women’s guilds we detect the kind of meeting skills that guild members learned by taking part in the meetings. In the case of the central branch of the WCG it is possible to detect a certain order of meetings established by the 1930s, an order that did not change much in the following decades. The women’s guilds held weekly business meetings, social evenings now and then and celebrated the anniversary of their branch every year with a birthday tea, sometimes called a birthday party. The social evenings were of course arranged to give the members of the guild an opportunity to enjoy themselves singing, dancing and meeting fellow guild members from other guilds, but they also had the function of raising money for the funds of the guild branch.829 In the 1950s the social evenings became monthly.830 The structure of the weekly meeting did not change much during the period studied, from 1920 to 1970. Meetings started with the president welcoming all members present, and then minutes from the previous meeting were read. Speak- ers who had been engaged would give their speech after the minutes from the previous meeting had been read. After such a speech one of the guildswomen would then thank the speaker on behalf of the branch and if there were questions these would be answered and discussed. Next, correspondence was read and decisions on who to send as delegates were taken. When the number of delegations grew, the delegates were chosen by rota. Weekly meeting usually ended with the members having a cup of tea. At the beginning of the 1940s some meetings ended with tea and one member reading from the monthly Bulletin, the paper that replaced The Guildswoman in 1939.831 A second activity introduced in the 1940s was raffles. By drinking tea and playing a game of raffles the members raised money for the guild fund. The major difference when it comes to activities at weekly meetings was a difference in balance between them. In the 1920s the members of the central branch in Newcastle arranged more activities to raise money for delegates or other purposes than in the following decades. From the 1930s and even more so ––––––––– 828 In the Minute Book Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, Newcastle upon Tyne, 14th No- vember 1938 – 20th December 1943 I have found a candidate presentation of Mr H. Armstrong, who addresses the members by saying that he has served them faithfully in the past and can be relied upon to do so in the future should he be elected again. Mr Jim Lamb, who served on the board of the Newcastle Society between 1962 and 1970 and then on the board of the NECS to 1991 states that also during his period of service it was important to either have the support of the guilds or the support of the employees to get enough votes to be elected and then re-elected. Interview Jim Lamb 8 Sept 1998. 829 In 1931 we find an example where a social evening is called “half pound night”. Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, 16th February 1931. A social evening is called “sing song & 1d pay”. Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, 10th February 1941. 830 Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, 11th June 1951. 831 Regarding the WCG’s papers see Gaffin and Thoms, (1993), p. 120.

283 in the 1950s the decisions increased concerning delegates to visit meetings and delegates presenting reports from meetings they had visited. At the beginning of the 1960s the delegation issues nearly took over the meetings of the central branch. The minutes also reveal that members took their representative tasks seriously, no matter what kind of task they had been commissioned with. At the weekly meeting on 23 January 1961 nine delegation items were dealt with, and there were many volunteers and some competition over certain representation tasks. When all delegates had been elected, two delegates gave their reports from meetings and conferences they had attended. Finally, the election of officials in the guild took place. After the meeting was closed at 9.45 p.m. Mrs Bowmaker, who at the previous meeting had been elected visitor to the sick, said she had not been asked for her report. It is noted as a postscript, that the president thanked Mrs Bowmaker for the very good job she had done.832 The fact that Mrs Bow- maker drew attention to her own contribution indicates on the one hand that the members took their tasks seriously and on the other hand that members were concerned that no point on the agenda be missed. The practical education for members of the WCG branches implied that they learned meeting procedures and were encouraged to talk in public. Still, the minutes indicate that members of the central branch learned one way of executing meetings and that they were concerned with sticking to this order. They expected meetings to proceed as they had always done and would protest if any deviations from the expected order were made. Mrs Joan Lamb, long-time member and eventually president of the central branch, confirms this observation. Introducing new elements into the meeting procedures in the 1970s and 1980s was difficult.833 Continuing to view the set up of co-operative forums in Newcastle we turn to the Men’s Guilds. The first indication of a Men’s Guild in Newcastle that I have found is from 1938. That year a representative from the Heaton branch of the Men’s Guild participated in a meeting called by the educational committee of the Newcastle Society.834 In 1946 there was still only one Men’s Guild active in the city and there are no indications of any other branches in the following decades.835 There are no minutes left from the Newcastle branch of the Men’s Guild, which means that we know relatively little about the activities of this branch. However, the fact that the branch in Heaton had sent a representative to a meeting arranged by the educational committee indicates that they took an interest in co-operative education. According to Cole, the Men’s Guild concentrated on educational and propagandist work.836 When the branch in Newcastle was estab- ––––––––– 832 Minutes of the weekly meeting, Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, 23rd January 1961. 833 Interview Joan Lamb 12 June 2001. 834 Minutes from a meeting with the education committee and representatives of the co-operative auxiliary organisations to consider the proposal of the educational committee to form a ”Co-operative Educational Co-ordination Committee”, 9th December 1938 in 1127/30. 835 ”It was reported that eight youth clubs were in existence. There was also a branch of the British Federation of Co-operative Youth and of the Men’s Guild operating within the Society.” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1946. 836 Cole, (1947), p. 263.

284 lished is unknown, but the Men’s Guild as a national organisation was established in 1911, 28 years after the WCG was founded.837 In the guilds mentioned so far women and men worked separately. However, from the jubilee history for the diamond jubilee of the National Guild of Co- operators on Tyneside we learn that a mixed guild was in existence in Newcastle by 1924.838 The National Guild of Co-operators (NGC)839 , an organisation for mixed guilds, was not established until 1926. I have found no further information about a mixed guild in Newcastle formed in 1924 and it is not until 1930 that the establishment of a branch of the NGC is mentioned in any minutes from the Newcastle Society.840 Nevertheless, once these kinds of guilds were established men and women could work together in the same organisation. The minutes from the Whickham View Branch of the NGC demonstrate that there was a good mix of male and female members, at least to start with. At the first meeting on 17 March 1936 four women and three men were elected as members of a working committee. This committee took decisions on what kind of activities the branch should engage in.841 The procedures of the weekly meetings of this branch look very much like those of the meetings of the central branch of the WCG. As for the mix of members, there is a gradual move towards more female than male members, and in the 1960s the women were in clear majority in the Whickham View branch.842 Before we go on with the presentation of more co-operative forums it is interesting to view the relation between the guilds we have met so far. The branches of the Women’s Co-operative Guild in Newcastle were the first and in many respects the most prominent co-operative forum in Newcastle. Some of the branches of the WCG had been in existence since the end of the 19th century. These guilds had been the only co-operative forums for many decades before the men’s and the mixed guild turned up on the stage in the 1920s and 1930s. The men’s guild was no competitor for the branches of the WCG. But what did the guildswomen think about the mixed guilds? Potential female members could choose to join these new guilds instead, which also meant more competition for the resources of the Newcastle Society. The branches of the WCG had reasons to be sceptical of the mixed guilds, because seven years after the first one was established there were at least seven branches of the National Guild of Co-operators active in Newcastle. Women that

––––––––– 837 The Women’s Co-operative Guild was formed in 1883 but the under the name Women’s League for the Spread of Co-operation. See Cole, (1947), pp. 215, 263. 838 See Galloway Ethel, National Guild of Co-operators Diamond Jubilee Year: Memories From The Tyneside District 1926-1986, (1986), North Eastern Co-operative Society, p. 1. 839 Cole, (1947), p. 310. 840 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 11th March 1930. 841 Minutes meeting of National Guild of Co-operators Wickham View Branch, 17th March 1936. 842 This estimation is based on my survey of the minutes from 1936 to 1970, having looked at minutes from the first month every year. I have also visited this guild, which is still in existence and today there are between 8 and 12 members regularly coming to the meetings and of these members one is a man.

285 could have joined the branches of the WCG had joined mixed guilds instead.843 As for the resources of the Newcastle Society we find that the board was at first sceptical of the NGC. In March 1930 the board of the Newcastle Society received a letter from the National Guild of Co-operators (NGC) announcing that they intended to establish a mixed guild branch at Cowgate in Newcastle. They requested that the board meet the cost of the room rent. The board resolved “…that on no occasion would rent be paid for a Guild branch of this description”.844 However, the attitude towards the NGC among directors seems to have softened somewhat only a year later, since the board then accepted an invitation to a conference in Jarrow arranged by the NGC.845 It is reasonable to assume that the board did not wish to get on the wrong side of the branches of the WCG and therefore avoided interfering in conflicts between guilds. In May 1931 Mrs Ada Dobson, Hon. Secretary of the Members’ Guild – probably the same as the NGC – wrote to the board of the Newcastle Society asking them to take “…certain action, respecting the refusal of the WCG to take part in a proposed Guild Rally at Congress”. The board decided to take no such action.846 It was not only the board that was concerned with keeping out of the conflicts between the guilds. The representatives on the educational committee of the Newcastle Society also tried not to take sides. In 1938 this committee had called representatives from the branches of the WCG, NGC, and from the Men’s guild at Heaton to a meeting. The point of the meeting was to discuss the establishment of a “Co-operative Educational Co-ordination Council”, a council with representatives from the different co-operative forums, that is, from the guilds, the youth groups, the educational fellowship, the employee’s welfare club and the voluntary branch of the Co-operative Party. The idea was that the educational committee should be able to turn to this council to test ideas and receive suggestions regarding activities that the educational committee arranged. However, at the meeting other questions than those on the agenda were brought up. Represen- tatives from the guilds were in the majority and they more or less took over the meeting. Mr. Graham from the NGC branch at Wickham View suggested that the educational committee establish a co-ordination committee for all the guilds. The education secretary replied; “…that though, like Mr. Graham, many members of the educational committee wished to see greater harmony between the various organisations, the educational committee had no power to interfere in the internal affairs of any of the guilds”. Mrs M. Reed, vice-chairman of the educa- ––––––––– 843 Minutes from a meeting with the education committee and representatives of the co-operative auxiliary organisations to consider the proposal of the educational committee to form a ”Co-operative Educational Co-ordination Committee”, 9th December 1938 in 1127/30. 844 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 11th March 1930. It is in a jubilee history of the National Guild of Co-operators the Tyneside District that Ethel Galloway writes about the mixed guilds that existed before the founding of the National Guild of Co-operator as a national organisation in 1926. See Galloway, (1986), p. 1. 845 Mrs Laverick and Mr Rogers were sent as the representatives of the board to a conference arranged by the National Guild of Co-operatores at Jarrow. Minutes of Director’s Meeting 3rd No- vember 1931. 846 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 12th May 1931.

286 tional committee, also rejected Mr Graham’s suggestion, since the suggested council was not exclusively for guild work but for educational work in the New- castle Society.847 We will come back to the educational work sponsored by the Newcastle Society and the forums that the education committee supported. How- ever, we shall first turn to co-operative politics. In 1933 a voluntary branch of the Co-operative Party was established in New- castle.848 An official society party was not founded until 1942. The history of why the Newcastle Society got a society party so late is long and illustrates the power that co-operative forums could exercise at member meetings. But this is a story that we will come back to in Part Four. In this section we shall focus on how this forum developed once it was formed.849 In 1946 the Co-operative Party in Newcastle was represented in five constituencies: the Central, the North, the West, the East and Gosforth.850 As a co- operative forum the Co-operative Party branches or constituencies distinguished themselves from the guilds in being formally political. The Co-operative Party was a mixed organisation, that is, both men and women could join. Judging by the members elected as officials of the society party the ratio of women and men on official positions in the 1940s was fairly even. However, in the two following decades the women, particularly married women, began to take over this forum as well.851 From 1963 to 1964 at least five out of six officials in the society party were women.852 From the registers of officials, executives and delegates and the annual reports of the Co-operative Party we learn that members in the other co-operative forums took a keen interest in the party. The other forums including the board of the Newcastle Society all sent delegates to the meetings of the Co-operative Party. The employees of the Newcastle Society, also sent delegates to these meetings, generally via their unions.853 The fact that co-operators already active in other co-operative forums could be rallied to attend these meetings was of course posi- ––––––––– 847 Minutes from a meeting with the education committee and representatives of the co-operative auxiliary organisations to consider the proposal of the educational committee to form a ”Co-operative Educational Co-ordination Committee”, 9th December 1938 in 1127/30. 848 In a telegram from W. R. Richardson, who could not come to the celebrations due to attacks of bronchitis, it is written: “Please give my best wishes to the Newcastle Party and hearty congratula- tions on 25 years of successful activity stop a Particular warm greeting to all pioneers of our first meeting 25 years ago.” Apparently Newcastle upon Tyne Society Co-operative Party was formed 1933 since the Silver Jubilee was celebrated 23rd October 1958 see 1857/3 Papers re formation of party, elections, agreements with labour Party etc., 1942-1954. 849 See Part Four, Section 2.1.1. 850 See Newcastle upon Tyne Society Co-operative Party, Secretary’s Report, 1946-1947, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 7th 1946 to March 1st 1947 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 851 See 1857/5/1 Registers of Officials, Executive, Delegates etc. 1943-1955. 852 Mrs R. Pearson President, Mrs E. J. Lawther Vice President, Secretary Mrs D. A. Starkey, Minute Secretary Mrs Stackhouse, Treasurer Mrs O. A. Walker and Literature Secretary E. M. Young. The- re is no title for the Literature Secretary which means that we cannot decide whether it was a woman or a man. See 1857/5/2 Registers of Officials, Executive, Delegates etc. 1955-1964. 853 See 1857/5/1 Registers of Officials, Executive, Delegates etc. 1943-1955. 1857/5/2 Registers of Officials, Executive, Delegates etc. 1955-1964.

287 tive for the society party. The new co-operative forum that the Co-operative Par- ty had become in the early 1940s had good attendance figures from the start and could spread its message relatively quickly to many of the members of the New- castle Society via the other forums. But this meant that the members who received the information were members who were already active in co-operative forums. It was more difficult to reach out to members of the Newcastle Society in general. A plea in the secretary’s report from 1945-46 illustrates the problem: In conclusion, I would add that we would like more of the general membership to take an active part in the work of our Party, as it is usually left to those who have already got many other engagements in the Movement to sacrifice more of their time than it is reasonable to expect.854 To get more of the members in the Newcastle Society engaged in the activities of the co-operative forums in Newcastle one strategy was to persuade more people from the existing membership of the Newcastle Society to come to the meetings. But there were other strategies as well and one of these was to attract young people to join and take an active part in the co-operative forums. We shall therefore look at the forums established for young co-operators. In 1938 there were at least 15 branches of the WCG, one branch of the Men’s Guild and seven branches of the NCG that were active in Newcastle.855 These were all organisations for adult co-operators. The age of the members of the guild branches is not easy to find out. But women who wished to join a branch of the WCG or the NGC had to be above 16 years old. Nevertheless, it was most common that people joined guilds when they became householders in their own right.856 Therefore these forums did not immediately attract children and young persons, but there were other forums that did. Ever since the beginning of the 20th century there had been co-operators within the Co-operative movement who tried to engage people of all ages in co- operative activities. The Co-operative Congress had in 1909 encouraged co- operative societies to develop what was called the Young People’s Circles so as to involve young people in the Co-operative movement. But few societies re- ––––––––– 854 Newcastle upon Tyne Society Co-operative Party, Secretary’s Report, 1945-1946, in Annual Re- ports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 1st 1945 to March 2nd 1946 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 855 This information is based on the representatives sent to a meeting arranged by the Education Committee of the Newcastle Society: Women’s Co-operative Guilds: Benwell High Cross (2 delegates), Brinkburn-street (2 delegates), Coxlodge (2 delegates), Cedarroad (2 delegates), Delaval- road (2 delegates), Elswick (2 delegates), Heaton (2 delegates), High Heaton (2 delegates), Hazel- rigg (2 delegates), Stanhope-street (1 delegate), Whickham View (2 delegates). Apologies for ab- sences were received from Central and Gosforth branches. National Guild of Co-operators: Central (1 delegate), Buckingham-street (2 delegates), East End (2 delegates), Gosforth (2 delegates), Grey- stone (2 delegates), Welbeck (2 delegates), Whickham View (2 delegates). Men’s Guild: Heaton branch (1 delegate). Minutes from a meeting with the education committee and representatives of the co-operative auxiliary organisations to consider the proposal of the educational committee to form a ”Co-operative Educational Co-ordination Committee”, 9th December 1938 in 1127/30. 856 Life as we Have Known it by Co-operative Working Women, (1977[1931]), Ed. Davies Margaret Llewelyn, Virago, London.

288 sponded to this call for the creation of a co-operative youth movement. It was only in the middle of the 1930s that a youth section of the Co-operative movement was officially recognised. The Woodcraft Folk, formed in 1926, and the Circle movement, established in 1922, were then officially tied to co-operative societies and to the Co-operative Union.857 In an account from 1931 Miss May Price explains that a national co-operative youth movement was in the making and that it was built from bottom to top. It consisted of the groups previously known as young people’s circles, young people’s guilds, or junior guilds that in the early 1930s were re-named comrades’ circles.858 There were active comrades’ circles in the North East and on Tyneside at the beginning of the 1930s. Their activities are reported in a paper with the title Co- operative Youth: The Organ of the British Federation of Co-operative Youth. But it was only in a few localities that these circles flourished, so in general it was difficult for the Circle movement to become established in the North.859 How- ever, there is one entry in the minutes of the Newcastle Co-operators’ Educa- tional Fellowship revealing that there was a circle of comrades in Newcastle in 1934.860 Otherwise I have found little information about any children or youth activities in the source material from the Newcastle Society before 1937. In that year the educational committee organised a children’s choir.861 It is likely that co-operators in Newcastle on their own initiative started co-operative activities for children and young people. However, it is not until these activies received financial support from the Newcastle Society that they turn up in the source material. Co-operative activities for children and young people were first sponsored by the Newcastle Society in the late 1930s and in the 1940s. These financial contributions implied an advance for these activities. In 1944 the educational department reported that there were youth clubs active at Central, Buckingham Street, Gosforth, Hazelrigg and Benwell and that young people between 15 and 21 could join these clubs.862 One year later it is reported that there were eight suc-

––––––––– 857 Todd, (1998), pp. 4-5. 858 Price May, ”Co-operative Education and the Circle Movement: Historical Account of the Circle Movement”, Co-operative Youth: The Organ of the British Federation of Co-operative Youth, July 1931. 859 The first Northern Circle were established in Ashington, a city called ”an educational oasis in the Northumbrian desert”, in 1924. In 1927 one circle was established in Newbiggin. In 1928, a second circle in Ashington, circles in Blyth, Darlington, Hartlepool, Jarrow and Hebburn. In 1929 the Northern Federation for the Circles in the area was established. See ”Co-operative Youth in the North”, in Co-operative Youth: The Organ of the British Federation of Co-operative Youth, April 1932. 860 ”It was also proposed by Mr McGuin and seconded by Miss Hogg that the Fellowship be represented at the Central Circles Birthday Social.” Minutes from Meeting of The Newcastle Co- operators’ Educational Fellowship 21st February 1935, in Being the Minute Book of the The New- castle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship. 861 See Education Committee’s Annual Report 1937-1938, in Annual Reports and Statement of Ac- counts From Sept 4th 1937 to March 5th 1938 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 862 Educational Department Annual Report 1943-1944, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 4th 1943 to March 4th 1944 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd.

289 cessful youth clubs in Newcastle, that many of the members of these clubs showed a keen interest in drama and that one of the clubs had already staged a pantomime at the Little Theatre.863 This interest in drama led to the introduction of a theatre group in 1948 called Newcastle Co-operative Arts Players, led by Mrs Joyce Wright, a drama teacher who later became chairman of the member relations and education committee of the Newcastle Society.864 The youth clubs were in 1946 and 1947 complemented with children’s groups called pathfinder groups.865 It was a pathfinder group that Mrs Eileen MacKinnon, who we met in Part Two Section 2.1, joined at the age of 11, when her mother handed her over to Mrs Doris Starkey at the Benwell High Cross Branch. Mrs MacKinnon, Mrs Brenda Hamilton and Mrs Liz Jackson, all active in the same youth club, remember the activities they took part in as young co-operators. Besides drama and music shows the children’s group played co-operative games, were taught co- operative history, song and dance. For the youth club members the program expanded to include speaking competitions, debates and mock trials, mock wed- dings etc. Additionally, both pathfinders and youth club members went to weekend schools at Dalston Hall and Gilsland, convalescent homes owned by the co- operative societies in the North East.866 These groups were most active in the 1940s and 1950s, a peak being reached in 1953 with 16 clubs and groups and 498 members all in all.867 Having attracted children and young people from the age of 11 to 21, representatives of the Newcastle Society were concerned about keeping these young co-operators interested in co-operation. They were old enough to join guilds, but they were not necessarily householders in their own right. The comrade circles organised under the federal organisation called the British Federation of Co- operative Youth attracted young people between the ages of 21 and 28 who were interested in co-operation and politics. However, the BFCY ended up in conflict with its sponsor, the Co-operative Union, at the beginning of the 1940s. Its political activities were questioned, and the organisation was charged with “’the dissemination of Communist Party literature’”.868 Sidestepping the BFCY, the Co-operative Union initiated a new federal youth organisation called the British Federation of Young Co-operators (BFYC) in 1942.

––––––––– 863 Educational Department Annual Report 1945-1946, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 1st1945 to March 2nd 1946 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 864 Interview Mrs Joyce Webb (Wright) 14 July 1999 and Webb (Wright) Joyce, ”Newcastle Co- operative Arts Players Productions” and ”Memorandum regarding the Little Theatre, Fern Avenue, Newcastle upon Tyne”. 865 Educational Department Annual Report 1946-1947, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 7th 1946 to March 1st 1947 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 866 Lloyd Langley’s interview with Eileen MacKinnon, Brenda Hamilton and Liz Jackson 25 June 1998. 867 Educational Department Annual Report 1952-1953, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 6th 1952 to March 7th 1953 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 868 Davis, (2000), p. 47.

290 In 1948 a BFYC group was formed with branches at Buckingham Street and Fossway, in Newcastle.869 The BFYC branches had their ups and downs during the 1950s. The educational department of the Newcastle Society supported these branches, because they were concerned not to lose the young people interested in co-operation. In the annual report of the educational committee 1953-1954 it is stated that: Youth activity has continued to make progress, the sixteen groups of the Co-operative Youth Movement are continuing to contribute to the essential work of training young people in preparation for their entry into the auxiliary organisations./…/ The B.F.Y.C. continues to do useful work, but is at present having difficulty in maintaining its membership. It is essential that young people within the age group 18/28 who are interested in the Co-operative Movement should have an organisation, therefore, the policy of the Education Committee to help in every possible way the development of the B.F.Y.C. will be continued.870 The hope of the co-operative officials who supported co-operative youth activities was that these young people should join the co-operative guilds when they became householders themselves and take a keen interest in the affairs of the co- operative societies. I have found no study of how many of the youth club members took the step and became members of guilds and became officials in co- operative societies. But some of the co-operators I have interviewed have been active in youth clubs and then gone on to guilds and positions on the board of co- operative societies and even the federal societies and national organisations of the guilds.871 Of the directors on the board of the North Eastern and Cumbria Co- operative Society in 2001 seven out of twelve answered a questionnaire I made. Out of these seven directors only one stated that she had been a member first of a pathfinder group, then a youth club and that she was at present a member of a branch of the NGC. Three stated that they were members of the Co-operative Party and two were former employees of the society. All but one came from a co-operative family, that is, a family whose members were engaged in a consumer co-operative society.872 As for the fate of the co-operative children and youth organisations sponsored by the Newcastle Society, we find that the pathfinder groups, youth clubs and the branches of the BFYC received contributions from the educational department throughout the 1950s and into the beginning of the 1960s.873 These kinds of yo- ––––––––– 869 Educational Department Annual Report 1947-1948, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 6th 1947 to March 6th 1948 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 870 Educational Department Annual Report 1953-1954, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 5th 1953 to March 6th 1954 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 871 Interview Eileen MacKinnon 8 Sept 1998. Interview Jim Lamb 8 Sept 1998. Interview Joan Lamb 12 June 2001. 872 Questionnaire on background of directors on the North East/Cumbria Co-operative Society board. 873 In 1961 the Newcastle Society sponsored the youth activities with the following sums; £812 2 s. 1 d. For youth groups, £22 1s. 8d. For Pathfinder Sports Day, £67 12s. 10d. For pathfinder Summer Schools and £44 15s. For Co-operative Girls Choir, Education Department Account, in Report and Statement of Accounts for half-year ending March 4th 1961.

291 uth and children activities, but for the Newcastle Co-operative Arts Players, withered away in the 1960s. This means that it was above all young people born in the 1930s and 1940s who participated in the child and youth activities that the Newcastle Society arranged. In the late 1940s and in the 1950s many of them, if they did not continue with their studies, finished school at the age of 15. The youth clubs and branches of the BFYC provided them with a forum where they could continue to be and act as teenagers, while in the daytime at their first job, they had to act like grown ups. There is evidence that the members of the youth clubs appreciated their membership. As early as the middle of the 1950s the educational department of Newcastle Society arranged re-unions for “old” members and many came to these reunions. To the first re-union in 1955 there came 160 former members.874 Many youth club members stayed friends for life and some found their partner in the club.875 The activities for children and young people in the Newcastle Society withered away in the 1960s, but when The North Eastern Co-operative Society was formed in 1970 the member relation and education officer and the members of the educational committee decided to support Woodcraft Folk groups established in the area of the society and initiated a new kind of children’s group called Mothers and Toddlers.876 The ambition then seems to have been to get the parents of children joining these groups to take an interest in co-operation locally. The final co-operative forum in Newcastle that we will visit is the Newcastle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship. This forum was established in the middle of the 1930s. It was a forum for members and employees who had taken educational courses arranged by the Co-operative Union. This forum was temporarily closed during the Second World War and re-opened in 1950, then as a branch of the Co-operative Students’ Fellowship.877 The Co-operative Fellowship became a forum for rather advanced discussions. In this forum former students and co- operators taking courses at the Co-operative College could discuss their ideas about co-operation and relate them to the situation in Newcastle. There is no possibility within the scope of this text to present all the different debates that took place in this forum and, in addition, the different opinions in the discussion were seldom taken down in the minutes. However, to illustrate the kind of concerns discussed I have chosen to present a few of the subjects that were debated. In December 1934 Mr Boyle, chairman of the Newcastle Society, talked about “Ourselves and the problems confronting us”.878 On 21 February 1935 Mr Geor- ge Mallabar was invited to speak on the subject “Some economic problems confronting the Co-operative Movement”, but he came to talk more about overlap- ––––––––– 874 Educational Department Annual Report 1955-1956, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts From Sept 3rd 1955 to March 3rd 1956 The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 875 Lloyd Langley’s interview with Eileen MacKinnon, Brenda Hamilton and Liz Jackson 25 June 1998. 876 Interview Nigel Todd 9 Sept 1998. 877 First minute in Minute Book found is from 1934 see Minutes of fortnightly meeting The Newcas- tle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship, 6th December 1934 and Minutes of meeting Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Students’ Fellowship, 18th October 1950. 878 Minutes the Newcastle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship, 6th December 1934.

292 ping, that is, the conflicts about trade boundaries, and a long discussion – unfortunately not noted in the minutes – followed.879 In the following month Mr McGuin and Mr Malia debated on the subject “High v. low dividends”.880 Look- ing at the period after 1950, we find that an active member of the BFYC, Mr T. E. Graham, who was also a former Co-operative College student, and Mr. W. Straw, the educational secretary for the Newcastle Society, were invited to talk about co-operative education.881 In 1956 Mr Eckford gave a talk on “Co- operation in Denmark”.882 In 1962 Mr Eckford again starts the discussion with a speech, this time on the subject “Why is self service a success”. In his talk he discussed the themes of overspending, personal service and shoplifting. At the following meeting Mr Charlton, educational secretary of the Newcastle Society, was invited to speak on the subject “Conferences & delegations – Do they achieve their objects?”.883 At the meeting in May Mr Jack Robson, general manager of the Newcastle Society, spoke on the subject “To increase sales – general questions”.884 At the end of the 1950s and beginning of the 1960s it seems as if this forum attracted both members and employees of the Newcastle Society, in general male members who wished to discuss the concrete problems of the Newcas- tle Society. Besides the discussions in the forum of the Co-operative Students’ Fellow- ship, the educational committee arranged several opportunities for members in the Newcastle Society to meet and discuss consumer co-operation in general and consumer co-operation in Newcastle in particular. But it was not until the middle of the 1940s that the educational committee had the means to start a more ambitions education program including courses and round table discussions. By the end of the 1930s only week-end schools and correspondence courses were arranged, and in the 1937-1938 report from the educational committee it is declared that “…several members have taken advantage of this offer”. In the accounts of the educational committee we find that the most expensive activity in the 1937-1938 period was the Co-operative Day Celebrations and second came the costs for children’s and adult choirs, delegations, concerts and lectures.885 Three years later the costs for week-end schools, day schools and youth work were the greatest.886 In 1943 three round table conferences were arranged; one lecture was given by the chairman of the educational committee on the theme of “Post-war Co-operation and Education”, and then a brain trust was arranged, where officials in the society answered questions, and finally the vice-chairman ––––––––– 879 Minutes the Newcastle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship, 21st February 1935. 880 Minutes the Newcastle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship, 7th March 1935. 881 Minutes the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Students’ Fellowship, 22nd November 1950. 882 Minutes the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Students’ Fellowship, 22nd March 1956. 883 Minutes the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Students’ Fellowship, 29th March 1962. 884 The title of the talk in May is noted in the minutes from the April Meeting. Minutes of meeting, The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Students’ Fellowship, 26th April 1962. 885 Education Committee’s Annual Report 1937-1938, in Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Report & Statements of Accounts From Sept 4th 1937 to March 5th 1938. 886 Education Fund Account, in Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Report & Statements of Accounts From Sept 6th 1941 to March 7th 1942.

293 of the educational committee, Mr Mallabar, talked on the subject “Co-operation – past, present and future”.887 Successively, the subjects discussed at round-table conferences expanded in range. In October 1947 Mr Grainger, Organiser for the British Empire, talked about the “Leprosy Relief Association” and Mr Combry, Assistant Sanitary Inspector, talked about “Public Health and Hygiene”, followed by a recital of music by Schubert.888 From the end of the 1940s and throughout the 1950s stricty co-operative and more general subjects were mixed in the education program. In the program for 1951-1952, shown in Table 2, we see a wide selection of courses and lectures, and figures indicating how many members took part. Table 2. Classes and Lecture Courses March 1951 to March 1952 Subjects Tutor No. of No. of Lectures Students Introduction to Co-op Committee Work Mr. Weatly Straw, C.D.M. 6 24 The Story of the Co-op Movement Mr. T. E. Graham 6 14 Modern Forces in Society Mr. T. E. Stephenson, B.A. 10 9 How we are Governed Mr. A. Blenkinsop, M.P 10 25 Public Speaking Mr. S Rees 12 15 Public Speaking Mr. S Rees 12 16 Chairmanship and Secretarial Duties Mr. Weatley Straw, C. M.D. 6 72 Musical Appreciation Mr R. Jones 24 32 Social Psychology Mr J. Liggett, B.Sc. 12 20 Current Affairs Mr. R. Anton 12 20 Drama Mrs. Joyce Wright 24 57 Handicraft Various 24 81 Dressmaking Various 24 157 Folk Dancing Various 24 54 Information in the table is taken from the annual report of the educational department in Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Report & Statements of Accounts from Sept 1st 1951 to March 1st 1952. In addition to these classes and lecture courses, the educational department also arranged special short course lectures for members of the auxiliary organisations in the hope that such courses “…would lead to a request for longer and more sus- tained study courses”. Additionally, the round table conferences continued.889 During the 1950s the program of the educational department did not change much but for the expansion of practical classes and lecture courses and of the courses that the Co-operative Union provided, courses for the Certificate in Sa- lesmanship, Branch Manager Diploma and Department Manager Diploma. Be- sides course related to the job of being a salesman, branch manager and department manager, these course programs included courses in the history and organisation of the co-operative movement. In the middle of the 1950s we also find that ––––––––– 887 Educational Department Annual Report, in Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Re- port & Statements of Accounts From Sept 6th 1943 to March 4th 1944. 888 Educational Department Annual Report, in Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Re- port & Statements of Accounts From Sept 7th 1946 to March 1st 1947. 889 Education Department Annual Report, in Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Report & Statements of Accounts From Sept 1st 1951 to March 1st 1952.

294 a co-operative film society with 120 members was active within the society. This society can also be regarded as a co-operative forum, since film shows were mixed with discussion evenings, but unfortunately the annual report from the educational department does not reveal which films the members of the Film So- ciety watched. Sadly, the annual reports from the society for the better part of the 1960s are missing, and there are no reports on educational activities from 1961 and 1962. In the education department accounts from 1961 we can see that youth and children’s activities took about 9 per cent of the budget, classes, courses and schools about 14 per cent, choirs, film society, concerts and the celebration of the Inter- national Co-operative Day about 8 per cent. The greatest cost was administration together with rents.890 In the above survey of the co-operative forums in Newcastle we have seen a development from separate co-operative forums for women and men to mixed forums for young and adult co-operators. The interaction, as in delegations, between these forums has been described, an interaction which is interesting since it indicates an exchange of information but also a rather formal relation between the different groups. As for the relation between the forums and the Newcastle Society, the account above demonstrates that there existed an exchange between the society and the forums. In certain respects the forums made up the social and educational context of the society. However, it was first in the late 1930s that the education committee of the society tried to tie the co-operative forums closer to the society by asking them to send representatives to an advisory body for co- operative education. On the whole the co-operative forums in Newcastle were free agents with an interest in the resources and activities of the Newcastle Soci- ety. Given that condition these forums were besides places for education and sociability also channels for member mobilisation. We have seen that candidates to the board of the society had to seek the support of the guilds; the other forums eventually gained the same position. Part four will provide us with a set up of more examples illustrating how mobilisations for particular resolutions at member meetings or to influence the board directly, was mediated through the co- operative forums. However, we shall now turn to our second case and examine the co-operative forums in Malmö.

5.2 Co-operative forums in Malmö As in Newcastle a branch of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet (the Women’s Co- operative Guild in Sweden) was the first formal co-operative forum established in Malmö. Fifty-three women came to the inaugural meeting of Malmö Koopera- tiva Kvinnogille on 27 January 1908 in Folkets Hus (The People’s House) in Malmö. A board was elected consisting of five married women, three married women as deputies, and two wives and one unmarried woman as auditors.891 At ––––––––– 890 Education Department Account, in Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. Report and Statement of Accounts for half-year ending March 4th 1961. 891 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogillet, 27/1 1908.

295 this meeting one man, Mr Widén, was present and he gave a speech about the necessity for workers to support the Co-operative movement. It is possible that this was the same Widén who three years earlier took part in the founding of Kooperativa Föreningen Seger and who became the first chairman of that society. But if that was the case it is interesting to note that three months after Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille was founded the question of forming a women’s guild was discussed at a board meeting of Seger. Mr Widén was then no longer chairman and there are no indications in the minutes that the board members present at the meeting in April 1908 knew about the guild branch already founded.892 It therefore seems as if Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille was started by the women who took part in the meeting in January 1908 and not on the direct initiative of any consumer co-operative society in the city. In the jubilee history of this branch from 1958 it is suggested that the fifty-three women forming the first guild branch in Malmö were inspired by a speech delivered by Martin Sundell from KF.893 Despite the initial interest in this guild branch among women interested in co- operation we find that by the 1910s the number of members of Malmö Koopera- tiva Kvinnogille decreased. Because of this decrease in numbers the guild funds and the degree of activity also suffered. By the end of 1908 no less than 100 women had joined the branch, 90 married women and 10 unmarried. These members contributed with an entrance fee of 25 öre and then an annual subscription, which in 1908 seems to have varied between 20 and 70 öre. In 1910 the number of members had decreased to 76 and in the following year to 40. There are also notes in the accounts that some members were exempted from paying the annual subscription due to lack of means. In 1916 there were only 12 members left, and from 1917 to 1920 there are no minutes in the minute book.894 Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille received no regular financial contributions from either Seger or Solidar in the 1910s. In 1921 the branch reappears with 58 members and from then on continues to attract more members. In the 1920s members paid a quarterly fee of 1 kronor and 5 öre, which meant that resources again were filling the guild fund.895 However, the branch still had some practical problems to deal with, such as the lack of a meeting room. The question was debated but no good solution was found. In the summer of 1921 the monthly meetings were held outside, i.e. in the People’s Park. On one occasion the members held their meeting in a candy kiosk owned by one of the board members of the branch.896 During the autumn of 1921 a ––––––––– 892 Protokoll styrelsen Kooperativa Föreningen Seger 18/4 1908. 893 Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille 1908 - 27/1 – 1958, p. 8. 894 Information about members’ names and the sums they paid or did not have to pay are accounted for in the member ledgers. Medlemsmatriklar 1908-1990, in Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogil- le/Malmö Centrala Konsumentgille D:1. As for the gap in minutes see Malmö kooperativa kvinnogille Mötesprotokoll från 1915-1922 A:1. 895 Medlemsmatriklar 1908-1990, in Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille/Malmö Centrala Konsumentgil- le D:1. 896 In 1915 they discussed whether they should keep the present meeting room for the next year or not. They decided to keep it but it is not mentioned what kind of room it was. See Protokoll möte

296 room in Folkets Hus in Malmö was reserved for them.897 After that date the question seems to have been solved, since it was discussed no more. In addition, towards the end of the 1920s Solidar started to pay regular contributions towards the cost of meeting rooms for Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille.898 This brings us to the question of the relationship between the guild branches and the consumer co-operative societies in Malmö. Only four months after the founding meeting of Malmö Kooperativa Kvin- nogille the question of opening a co-operative milk store was discussed. Mrs Wester was eager to get started and proposed the appointment of a committee that would examine the possibilities of establishing such a store. Mrs Linderdahl, however, was somewhat hesitant and suggested that they should wait and see how the co-operative societies already founded developed. It was decided that the question should be discussed at the following meeting. It was additionally decided that the following meeting should discuss the establishment of a drapery store and that representatives from Seger should be invited to that meeting.899 These ventures were, however, not discussed at the following meeting and not at the meeting in July either. At the July meeting in 1908 Mrs Hansson suggested that the members of the branch should propagate for the newly started bakery society Solidar by distributing leaflets. Mrs Wirén said she would not propagate for Solidar since their bread was not as good as it ought to be. She agreed to propagate for Solidar only when the quality of bread improved. It was decided that the branch should write to Solidar and demand larger and better bread loaves.900 The members were not pleased either with all the products that Seger sold. At the monthly meeting in November 1909 the members discussed the inferior quality of margarine-butter sold in the stores of Seger compared with the margarine-butter sold in other stores. Mrs Hansson and Mrs Jeppsson said that they would contact the board of Seger and mediate the complaints from the guild branch.901 The guild branch also gave the board of Seger suggestions as to how they could improve their stores.902 In addition, to voice, i.e. complaining and giving advice the guild

Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille 7/12 1915. At a meeting in 1921, the first meeting after the reopening of the guild the question of meeting room was discussed again and it was decided that they should hold their meeting outside in the summer. See Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvin- nogille 15/3 1921. At the next meeting it was decided that the next meeting, the first summer meeting, should be held in Trädgården i Folkets Park (The Garden in People’s Park). See Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille 17/5 1921. At the meeting in Folkets Park it was decided that they meet in Mrs Rosvall’s candy kiosk in Limhamn the following meeting. See Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille 14/6 1921. 897 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 30/8 1921. 898 The board decided that Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille should receive 10 kr to cover the cost of rent, the same contribution as they got last year. Protokoll styrelsemöte Solidar 11/2 1929. 899 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 5/5 1908. 900 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 2/7 1908. 901 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 2/11 1909. 902 One of the stores of Seger was up for discussion. The members present agreed that the store was first class when it came to hygiene but they also agreed that the board of Seger ought to be reminded that an awning was needed. Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 17/4 1923.

297 branch contributed financially to co-operative ventures. A share certificate from Föreningen Malmö Kooperativa Köttaffären (The Co-operative Butcher Store in Malmö) in the archives of the guild branch proves this.903 The board of Solidar early on realised the resource that the guild could become as an advocate of co-operation. When the board was then invited by Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille to come to the August meeting of the guild, it decided that all directors should attend. The subject on the agenda for that meeting was how to propagate for Solidar in the best way.904 Besides demanding improvements in the co-operative stores and agreeing to take part in the propaganda for the same stores, the guild branch also asked for contributions from Solidar. As early as April 1908 the branch asked Solidar for fancy bread for the coffee after their meetings. In 1915 the branch made the same request for fancy bread, confectionery, coffee and sweets but then for their yearly party to raise money for their funds.905 This kind of exchange, that is, the guild propagating for co-operation and Solidar, and in return the society supporting the activities of the guild, developed further in the 1920s. However, before we explore that relation further we need to raise our head and look out over the area that eventually became the extended trading area of Solidar and see how Koop- erativa Kvinnogillet developed there. Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille was not the only guild branch in Malmö. There existed a least three guilds in Malmö at the beginning of the 20th century, i.e. if we include Limhamn and Sofielund in the conurbation of Malmö.906 If we look at the whole province of Skåne we find that 14 guild branches had been established by 1928, i.e. 14 guilds that had affiliated with the southern district of the union for Kooperativa Kvinnogillet formed in 1924. Of these 14 guilds the guild in Helsingborg was the biggest, with 350 members, Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille came second with 71 members. The branch in Limhamn was still active but had only 8 members. By then, that is in 1928, Sofielunds Kooperativa Kvinnogille must have amalgamated with Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille or been dissolved.907 In the current study I have not explored the development of the district organisation for Kooperativa Kvinnogillet in detail, but I have noted that members from Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille and Solidar were engaged in the devel- ––––––––– 903 Andelsbevis från ”Föreningen Malmö Kooperativa Köttaffär”, in Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille Andelsbevis 1913 G: VIII. 904 Gruveman, (1933), p. 20. 905 Protokoll Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 7/4 1908. Protokoll Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogillet 12/1 1915. 906 A guild in Sofielund is mentioned in Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille 5/5 1908. A guild in Limhamn is mentioned in Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille 14/12 1922. So- fielund or Sofielundshusen, a municipality east of Malmö, incorporated into Malmö in 1911 and Limhamn also a municipality but south of Malmö, incorporated 1915. Nilsson Lars, Historisk tät- ortsstatistik, del 1: Folkmängden i administrativa tätorter 1800-1970, (1992), Stads- och kommunhistoriska institutet, Stockholm, p. 116-117. 907 BERÄTTELSE över verksamheten inom Kooperativa Kvinnogillenas Skånedistrikt under år 1928, in Kooperativa Gillesförbundet Skåne – Distrikt verksamhets- och revisionsberättelse 1928-1951, A:V, p. 2.

298 opment of the Skåne district and in the propaganda for more guild branches. At the annual meeting of the district of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet representatives from Solidar were present, which indicates that the board of this society supported the guildswomen. As for the role of Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille in the development of the district organisation, we find that two out of four officials in the district were from Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille and two from that guild were elected auditors.908 In the following year the report reveals that the agitation for new guilds had succeeded better than expected, and that many consumer co-operative societies had welcomed the representatives from the district. The most eager agitator for new guilds had been Mrs Elisabeth Berg from Malmö. She had been present and given a lecture at all meetings arranged.909 This is the same Mrs Berg who became the first woman on the board of Solidar in 1941 and remained on the board until 1956.910 In 1944, 35 guilds were affiliated with the southern district of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet and in the same year a new guild, Malmö Östra Kooperativa Kvin- nogille, was formed on the initiative of Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille.911 In 1952 there were nine branches of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet active in the trading area of Solidar.912 The board of Solidar paid the rent for meeting rooms for all these guild branches. However, with more guilds expecting contributions and with increasing rent costs the board needed to take a principle decision. At the board meeting in October 1951 it was decided that Solidar should contribute with 150 kronor to all guilds towards the cost of rent. If the rent was higher than 150 kronor per year Solidar would meet 60 per cent of the additional cost.913 The guild branches in the trading area of Solidar would thus come to depend on financial contributions from Solidar. However, the relationship between Soli- dar and the guild branches was based on mutuality, on the one hand Solidar meeting the cost of rents for the guilds and on the other hand the guild members taking an active part in the educational activities and promoting co-operation and Solidar. To understand how this relationship developed we have to go back to the 1920s and to the guild branch Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogillet.

––––––––– 908 ÅRSBERÄTTELSE över verksamheten inom Kooperativa Kvinnogillenas Skånedistrikt under år 1928, Kooperativa Gillesförbundet Skåne – Distrikt verksamhets- och revisionsberättelse 1928- 1951, A:V, pp. 1-3. 909 ÅRSBERÄTTELSE över verksamheten inom Kooperativa Kvinnogillenas Skånedistrikt under år 1928, Kooperativa Gillesförbundet Skåne – Distrikt verksamhets- och revisionsberättelse 1928- 1951, A:V, p. 1. 910 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1941 Kooperativa Förenignen Solidar, p. 39, in FKFS 1907-1940. Styrelsen, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser för år 1955, p. 28 and Verksam- hetsberättelser för år 1956, p. 28, both in FKFS 1950-1960. 911 BERÄTTELSE över verksamheten inom distriktet under arbetsåret 1944-1945, Kooperativa Gil- lesförbundet Skåne – Distrikt verksamhets- och revisionsberättelse 1928-1951, A:V, p. 3. 912 These guild branches were: Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Malmö Södra Kooperativa Kvinno- gille, Malmö Östra Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Anderslövs Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Arlövs Koope- rativa Kvinnogille Klagshamns Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Limhamns Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Lomma Kooperativa Kvinnogille and Åkarps Kooperativa Kvinnogille. Larsson, (1952), p.8. 913 Protokoll styrelsemöte Solidar 29/10 1951.

299 From the lectures of a couple of male representatives from the consumer co- operative societies in Malmö we learn about the expectations that the boards of these societies had on the guildswomen. Mr Widén pointed out at the very first meeting of Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogillet that the members of the guild had an important role in the propaganda for co-operation. When Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogillet opened up again in 1921, Mr Lind tried to make the returning and the new members realise their role as supporters of co-operation. He strongly emphasised that the members of this guild should not criticise the directors of the consumer co-operative societies in Malmö in the stores when shopping. If members had any complaints they should write to the boards of the societies instead. Mrs Ek protested and said that the situation during the war had been exceptional and guild members had only criticised the directors of Seger when they had experienced that they could not buy the goods they had the right to buy.914 In the following year Mr Björk from Seger gave a lecture at the November meeting of the guild about the auxiliary role of the guild branches.915 The guildswomen were enthusiastic propagators for co-operation, but they demanded that the co-operative stores were well managed. Additionally, they did not see their support for the co-operative societies as fulfilling an auxiliary role. In 1923 the role of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet was discussed at the monthly meetings in March and May. At the first meeting disagreements led to a heated debate, and apparently not all members present at the meeting liked the idea that the guild’s main object should be to propagate for the consumer co-operative societies. At the second meeting the discussion took another turn and it was suggested that the success of the Co-operative movement depended upon Koopera- tiva Kvinnogillet. Such a statement gave the members of the branch a very important role and they were pleased with this self-image.916 These examples indicate that the guildswomen liked to see themselves as standard-bearers for co- operation and not as the baggage. At the second meeting of Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogillet in May 1923 Johan Larsson, chairman of the propaganda committee of Solidar, was present and spoke about co-operation in Britain and about the importance of co-operative education.917Mr Larsson appealed to the guildswomen’s interest in education and, from then on, the relationship between the guild and Solidar was built upon this joint interest. In 1924 a group of 24 women, all of them from Malmö Kooperativa Kvin- nogille, enrolled in a study circle on the subject of co-operation. Johan Larsson was the leader of that study circle. From then on the members of this guild branch took part in many study circles arranged by Solidar.918 In the jubilee history from 1958 Larsson points out that the debates about cash trade, dividend, and price policy were always vibrant at the meetings of the study circles with ––––––––– 914 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 15/3 1921. 915 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 21/11 1922. 916 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 20/3 1923. Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 15/5 1923. 917 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 15/5 1923. 918 1908 27/1 1958 Malmö kooperativa kvinnogille, pp. 9-11, in Jubileumshandingar 1938-1988 Malmö kooperativa kvinnogille L:III.

300 guild women and he thanks these guildswomen for their assistance in advocating co-operation. Among the subjects that study circles with members from Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille had studied Larsson also mentions, besides strictly co- operative subjects, household economy, home and family and nutrition. These circles were very active from the middle of the 1920s to the late 1950s, when Larsson wrote down his memories (picture 9, 16 and 17 in the middle of the book show different kinds of study circles). In 1956-57 eight study groups with 100 participants were active within Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogillet. Besides the courses in theoretical subjects the guild also arranged, in co-operation with Solidar, courses in sewing.919 It seems as if Solidar developed this kind of mutual relationship with all guild branches in its trading area. In 1935 the guild branches in Malmö and Lomma asked the board if Solidar could not pay for the paper Vi Vill (We Want) – a co- operative paper for the members of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet – for all their members, not just the members taking part in study circles. The board agreed to meet the demand of the guilds, but only if the guilds agreed to arrange some sort of study activities for all their members. The guilds agreed to do this.920 As already pointed out, there were nine branches of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet active in the trading area of Solidar in 1952. The number of guild branches continued to increase in the 1950s. In February 1954 the district organisation of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet initiated the founding of Mellanhedens Kooperativa Kvinnogille in Malmö. Even if it was the district that initiated this branch, it was locally active co-operators in Malmö who worked for its founding. Mrs Etel Malm, who spoke at the founding meeting of this branch and who was also elected chairman of the new guild branch, had been a representative on the member council of Solidar since 1942.921 Apparently, Solidar, and most definitely Mr Larsson as chairman of the propaganda committee of Solidar, realised the value of the guild branches and wished for close co-operation with this forum. In 1957 Solidar invited members and inhabitants in a newly built housing area called Blekingeborg to a family evening. Present at the meeting were representatives from other guild branches in Malmö, from the local district of Koop- erativa Kvinnogillet and from Solidar, Mr A. Hallström, one of the managers of Solidar and Johan Larsson. Starting with coffee, music and speeches the evening eventually ended in a decision to form a new guild branch of Kooperativa Kvin-

––––––––– 919 1908 27/1 1958 Malmö kooperativa kvinnogille, p. 10, in Jubileumshandingar 1938-1988 Malmö kooperativa kvinnogille L:III. 920 Protokoll styrelsemöte, 4 mars 1935. 921 Mrs Etel Malm is noted as deputy member of the member council of Solidar in 1942, and in 1945 she became a permanent member of the council. Exactly for how long Mrs Malm remained on the member council is difficult to say since the members of the council are no longer presented in the annual reports after 1951. Mrs Malm is noted as a representative on the council in 1951. See För- valtnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1942, p. 5. Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1945, p. 5. Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1950, p. 8. All in FKFS 1941-1949.

301 nogillet. Blekingeborgs Kooperativa Kvinnogille was hence formed and 32 women present at the family evening meeting applied for membership.922 There were five guilds active in Malmö in the late 1950s: Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Malmö Östra Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Malmö Södra Kooperativa Kvinnogille, Mellanhedens Kooperativa Kvinnogille and Blekingeborgs Koop- erativa Kvinnogille, and six other branches were active in the trading area of Solidar. These guilds were by now closely connected with Solidar as far as organisation and financing were concerned, but the propaganda committee was apparently not completely pleased with the guilds and their activities. At the end of the 1950s Solidar started to arrange instruction meetings with representatives from the guild branches, the district organisation of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet, KF’s district organisation and Solidar. At one of these instruction meetings it was pointed out that the guildswomen ought to take a keener interest in the activities of the consumer co-operative societies. The representative from KF’s tenth district, Mr Carl Gruveman – who also happened to be a director of Solidar – said that he also thought that the guild branches ought to discuss the current issues in the Co-operative movement at their meetings. He suggested the conversion into self-service as a suitable subject to discuss at guild meetings.923 If we turn to the minutes of Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille in the late 1950s and early 1960s we find on the agenda of the meetings a new element called Koop- erativa kvarten (the Co-operative quarter). In fifteen minutes one member of the branch was prepared to talk about a subject, presumably related to co-operation, and then the other members would discuss the matter. The examples I have found show that the guildswomen then gladly talked about the products they could buy in the co-operative stores.924 On the whole the members of the guilds had a keen interest in new products and product quality (see guildswomen in- specting new carpets at the Forum exhibition in 1956 or 1957, picture 10 in the middle of the book). The fact that the propaganda committee took the initiative to establish a guild branch at Blekingeborg in 1957 and the introduction of the instruction meetings indicate that by the end of the 1950s the balance in the relationship between the guild branches and Solidar had changed. The propaganda committee apparently wished for the guild branches to promote co-operation more than they already were doing. Considering that as many as eight study groups were active within Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, as we saw above, it could not be the lack of activity that the propaganda committee was displeased with, so it must have been the contents of the activity. Mr Gruveman’s comments at the instruction meeting in 1957 demonstrate that the leadership of Solidar wanted the guild ladies to take a keener interest in co-operation and above all what happened in Solidar.

––––––––– 922 Protokoll familjeafton Blekingeborg, 30/9 1957, in Blekingeborgs kooperativa kvinnogille Mötes- protokoll 1957-1961 A:1. 923 Referat från instruktionskursen, Blekingeborgs Kooperativa Kvinnogille 17 mars 1957, in Ble- kingeborgs Kooperativa Kvinnogille Mötesprotokoll 1957-1961 A:1. 924 See e.g. Mrs Nelly Ekberg’s speech about good quality corsets and brassieres. Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, 7/12 1959.

302 The history of the guild branches in Malmö do not stop at the end of the 1950s but since the propaganda committee of Solidar has entered the stage we shall now examine this committee in more detail. The reason why this committee receives a detailed description has to do with its role in establishing co-operative forums and influencing the activities of these forums in Malmö. Solidar and Seger established a joint propaganda committee in 1922 with the mission to spread information about co-operative ideas and the Co-operative movement’s mission and organisations, and the problems that the co-operative ventures faced. To fulfil this task the committee, among other things, formed co- operative groups, that is, study circles about the subjects in question. However, these study circles had a local forerunner in a study circle on the subject of co- operation organised by Arbetarnes Bildningsförbund (ABF), the Swedish equivalent of the Workers’ Education Association.925 KF was one of the supporters of ABF nationally.926 A local branch of ABF was established in Malmö in 1919. Johan Larsson was a member of a committee that, at the request of the local branch of SAP in Malmö, prepared the establishment of this branch. He also became a member of the first working committee of ABF in Malmö.927 With his engagement in ABF and in the co-operative societies in Malmö it is not strange that Larsson initiated an ABF group studying the subject of co-operation. During the autumn of 1919 and the spring of 1920 the study circle, with 12 members, read and discussed Charles Gide’s books on consumer co-operative societies and the seven co-operative principles. In 1921 he led a second study circle in Lim- hamn. The group had at first studied the problems of time and motion studies (tidsstudieproblem). However, when Larsson took over the subject changed to co-operation.928 Thus, there were people studying co-operation before Solidar and Seger decided to form a propaganda committee. However, the key person in co-operative education in Malmö, Johan Larsson, was involved from the start. Within the scope of this book there is no room to account in detail for the very comprehensive education and propaganda program that Solidar developed between 1922 and the 1960s.929 In this section on the subject of co-operative forums it is the role of the propaganda committee as a creator of co-operative forums that we will focus on. We have already seen that this committee established relations with the branches of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet in Malmö in the middle of the 1920s. This developed into a very close relationship in the following decades. We shall now look at the co-operative forums that the propaganda commit- ––––––––– 925 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidars studieverksamhet 25 år, (1947), Kooperativa Föreningen Soli- dar, p. 13. 926 The national organisation of ABF founded in 1912 and one of its main sponsors was KF, the other sponsors were; Landsorganisationen (the Swedish Trade Union Confederation), The Social Democ- ratic Party, Järnvägsmannaförbundet (The Railway Workers’ Trade Union), The Social Democratic Youth Union, Typografförbunder (The Printers’ Trade Union) and Stockholms Arbetarbiblioteks- förbund (The Union of Workers Libraries in Stockholm). Eriksson Erik, Omöjligt finns inte: ABF Malmö 75 år, (1995), ABF Malmö, p. 13. 927 Eriksson, (1995), pp. 13, 25-27. 928 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidars studieverksamhet 25 år, (1947), p. 13. 929 For a more detailed account see Friberg, (1998).

303 tee directly or indirectly established. Besides this, I have also chosen to include some information on the propaganda activities of this committee, since those examples demonstrate how Solidar through its propaganda and educational activities branched out into the wider context of associations and societies in Malmö and the surrounding countryside. The forums that received support and/or invited representatives from Solidar to give co-operative lectures and show films were co-operative forums in the wide sense of the concept. However, the main function of the propaganda work was of course to attract people to the society and to co-operative forums more closely connected with it. I will now present the co- operative forums directly or indirectly established by the propaganda committee. Having attracted the guildswomen to take part in the co-operative study circles the propaganda committee of Solidar turned to the rest of the membership and tried to interest all members in the study circles. Gathering from what we can read in the rules and annual reports from the propaganda committee, it worked closely together with the member council, and the two bodies presented their activities in a joint report. In 1926 three study circles with 48 participants studying the subject of co-operation took place and a co-operative group with 30 members had been formed. At the three meetings of this co-operative group the editor Mr Carl Gruveman gave lectures on the subjects: “The Co-operative and Private Business Activities”, “Organisational developments within the Co- operative and Private Businesses”, and “Co-operative Visions”.930 The co- operative group with 30 members that listened to Gruveman’s lecture was not the same as a study circle. The activities of this group would successively expand, but the lectures on mainly co-operative topics continued to be a central element in the programs of the group. Women as well as men, but only members and employees of Solidar, were allowed to join the group. A clarification of who could and who could not join was made in the annual report from 1927, which indicates that others than members or employees had come to the meetings of the group.931 In 1929 there were two co-operative groups with 125 members altogether and among other activities they had visited KF’s warehouse and chemical factory in Malmö together with participants from the member council.932 From the board minutes in February that year we learn that the groups had changed their names to co-operative clubs.933 However, it is not until the annual report from 1931 that the name of Kooperativa Klubben (The Co-operative Club) turns up and then it is again one club but then with 150 members. Membership and participation in Kooperativa Klubben could be an introduction to more far-reaching co-operative studies. In 1933 the number of study circles managed by Solidar had increased by five new groups, which means that 22 groups were active studying such subjects as: co-operation, co-operation and farming, the economy of the consumer co-operative societies, political economy, ––––––––– 930 Medlemsrådets och agitationskommitténs årsrapport, in Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1926, pp. 3-4, in FKFS 1907-1940, author’s translation. 931 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1927, p. 3, in FKFS 1907-1940. 932 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1929, p. 2, in FKFS 1907-1940. 933 Protokoll styrelsemöte Solidar 2/11 1929.

304 the light bulb question, household economy, arithmetic and block letter writing. At one of the meetings of Kooperativa Klubben that year the members from one of the study circles had been invited to demonstrate practically how a study circle worked.934 At the beginning of the 1930s the activities that the propaganda committee of Solidar arranged had expanded considerably. Besides the study circles the committee arranged film shows presenting co-operative films to recruit more members and, according to the report from 1931, circa 16,000 people had come to these meetings. The society had also started social evenings for housewives with one of KF’s teachers in home economics. Some 900 housewives had taken part in these social evenings.935 Besides arranging events in the centre of Malmö, the propaganda committee started at the beginning of the 1930s to branch out, establishing local committees in the districts of the society. In 1931 the members of the committee, together with representatives on the member council from five different districts situated outside Malmö, had discussed the promotion of co- operative propaganda and education in these districts.936 In the following year six local propaganda committees in Arlöv, Klagshamn, Kulladal, Lomma, Vellinge, Åkarp and Virentofta had been appointed. Some of the representatives on these committees were also the district representatives on the member council, but not all. Besides these local propaganda committees of Solidar there were local representatives of KF’s Correspondence Institute in Arlöv, Malmö and Vellinge.937 In the 1930s Kooperativa Klubben added new elements to their program. The membership in the club increased from 278 in 1934 to 476 in 1938.938 In the annual report from 1938 it is also pointed out that Kooperativa Klubben had developed into a forum where members and employees of Solidar met and discussed co-operative issues.939 Looking at the number of participants in the study circles during the same period we find that in 1934 265 men and 182 women took part in such circles. Four years later 591 men and 437 women had studied such subjects as co-operation, bookkeeping, propaganda issues, family and society, the economy of the consumer co-operative societies, co-operation and prices, household economics, the English language and product knowledge.940 Kooperativa Klubben and the study circles are in this study labelled co- operative forums because they constituted meeting places for members and employees for longer periods of time where co-operative issues were discussed. The meetings that were arranged in connection with propaganda activities were in a sense also co-operative forums, but we can not be sure whether the participants at those meetings discussed co-operative issues or if they were only informed ––––––––– 934 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1933, p. 15, in FKFS 1907-1940. 935 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1931, pp. 2-3, in FKFS 1907-1940. 936 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1931, p. 2, in FKFS 1907-1940. 937 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1932, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940. 938 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1934, p. 11 and Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1939, p. 11, both in FKFS 1907-1940. 939 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1939, p. 12, in FKFS 1907-1940. 940 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1934, p. 11 and Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1939, pp. 9-10, both in in FKFS 1907-1940.

305 about co-operation from lectures and films. Nevertheless, the comprehensive propaganda activities of Solidar, which in 1938 reached about 20,000 people, did incorporate those coming to the lectures, film shows and family evenings into the wider circle of co-operative culture. It was also in the 1930s that the propaganda committee of Solidar increased its work with young people. The Co-operative Movement in Sweden did not bring forth a youth movement in line with the one we saw in Britain. Whether any individual consumer co-operative societies in Sweden started a special youth organisation has not been explored. However, such possible initiatives did not lead to any national movement. Nevertheless, it is most likely that many societies like Solidar supported existing organisations for children and young people. Even from the beginning of the 1910s Solidar financially or in other ways supported the Social Democratic children’s and youth organisations. This support continued throughout the period studied, but from the 1930s Solidar also started to support such organisations in general, not only socialist ones.941 From the 1930s Solidars’ propaganda committee worked more intensely on spreading the message of co-operation also to young people. In the jubilee history celebrating 30 years of educational work in Solidar Johan Larsson states that the committee had persistently worked on getting young people to join the study circles but not succeeded to such an extent as they had wished for. In all the examples given in the jubilee history it is young people active in the Social Democ- ratic youth clubs that join the study circles arranged by Solidar. The most long- lived group was a group in Börringe, about 15 kilometres south-east of Malmö. This group ran study circles between 1931 and 1935 in such subjects as co- operation, agriculture and co-operation and political economy. In Malmö a youth study group active between 1936 and 1938 studied economic youth questions.942 That kind of study circle was in line with the national co-operative campaign at- tempting to get young people to save and to deposit their savings in the Co-op, a campaign initiated at the Co-operative Congress in 1937. In the annual report of Solidar from 1937 we learn that the campaign was sponsored by KF but also by the post-office savings bank and other saving banks. In Solidar’s trading area it was the Social Democratic youth clubs that together with the organisations mentioned and Solidar organised lectures and film shows on the subject of saving.

––––––––– 941 For contributions to Sagostunds-verksamheten i Malmö (socialistic association for children) see Section 2.2. Co-operative funds and resources used for activities outside the Co-operative organisations, in Part Four. Members of the Social Democratic Youth Clubs like all participants in study circles received subscriptions for literature used in these circles. For examples of financial support to young people’s and children’s activities in general see Protokoll styrelsemöte 12/4 1937 where the board granted 500 kr to Malmö Nation, a student organisation. Protokoll styrelsemöte 8/3 1943 where the board granted 500 kr to Allarp children’s holiday camp. In the second half of the 1940s the contributions to both young people’s and children’s organisations increased and Solidar gave grants to “Barnen till havet”, an organisation that arranged trips for deprived city children to the seaside, to youth organisations for temperance, and student organisations. See minutes in the minute book Styrelseprotokoll 1944-1947. For example see Protokoll styrelsemöte 14/6 1937, Protokoll styrelsemöte 22/3 1948 and Protokoll styrelsemöte 20/4 1948. 942 Larsson, (1952), p. 15.

306 Young people from other organisations were also invited to these meetings.943 The propaganda committee had the intention to continue with these lectures and film shows in 1938, but that year the government introduced a scheme that gave young newly married couples favourable loans for setting up their first home. Because of this the committee had decided to postpone further campaigns until the effect of this and other schemes aiming to incur debts would be obvious. From this comment we can see that the committee did not approve of the government’s scheme and that they thought that the young couples instead of taking a loan should save money in the consumer co-operative societies.944 In the 1940s Solidar started to support the Social Democratic youth organisation Unga örnar (Young Eagles), a youth organisation that like the Woodcraft Folk were members of the Falcon movement. In January 1945 Johan Larsson and Joel Jeppsson from the propaganda committee were elected by the board as Soli- dar’s representatives at Unga Örnar’s meetings.945 Judging by what we can find out from the annual reports of Solidar, the propaganda committee continued its co-operation with Unga Örnar throughout the 1950s. Although only the reports from 1950 and 1951 explicitly mentioned that it is Unga Örnar they were co- operating with, in the following reports it is only pointed out that the committee had arranged film shows and lectures in co-operation with different youth organisations.946 Solidar’s attempts to connect youth organisations and young people with the society continued, but before we look at that we must return to the 1940s and look at how such co-operative forums as the study circles and Koop- erativa Klubben developed and which new forums were introduced. Looking at the study program of Solidar in 1941 we can see that the ongoing world war affected the selection of courses. Besides the subjects that were meant to improve the members’ and employees’ knowledge about co-operation and their abilities to take part in the work of the society and the practical courses for improving the members’ housekeeping, we find such subjects as: the supply situation in the present crisis, the co-operative ideas in peace and crisis, how to make ––––––––– 943 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1937, p. 9, in FKFS 1907-1940. 944 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1938, p. 9, in FKFS 1907-1940. The aim of the Gov- ernment’s campaign for loans to young newly married couples was to get more young people to marry and have children. It was the falling birth rate figures presented in Mr and Mrs Myrdal’s book Kris i befolkningsfrågan published in 1934 that worried the politicians. Organisations like Svenska Slöjdföreningen (The Swedish Craft Society) supported the initiative of the government and especially applauded the aim to improve the standard of interior decoration and encourage the taste ideals promoted by Slöjdföreningen. See Göransdotter Maria, ”Smakfostran och heminredning: Om estetiska diskurser och bildning till bättre boende i Sverige 1930-1955”, in Kultur och Konsumtion i Norden 1750-1950, (1997), Eds. Söderberg Johan and Magnusson Lars, 23 Nordiska Historikermötet Tammerfors 7. –12.8.1997, FHS, Helsingfors, pp. 263-266. Peder Aléx has written about the co-operation between KF and Svenska Slöjdföreningen mainly through the Cheif Execu- tive of the latter Mr Gregor Paulsson. Aléx studies have demonstrated clearly that many of the educators at KF had ambitions to educate the members also in taste, to appreciate the modernistic products produced by KF. Aléx, (1994), pp. 180-211. However, in the case of the Government campaign for loans to young couples the aims of Svenska Slöjdföreningen and KF or at least Solidar seems to have diverged. 945 Protokoll styrelsemöte 25/1 1945. 946 See FKFS 1950-1960.

307 the money for clothing last longer, and the Utility Garden. One of the active study groups specialised in political economy and the participants in this group read about and discussed i.e. economic history, monetary policy in the present crisis, the democratic order of the popular movements, world trade and free trade politics. The internal propaganda work developed parallel with the propaganda directed at potential members. In 1941 seven meetings with members in different districts and with the guildswomen in Limhamns Kooperativa Kvinnogille including lectures and film shows took place. A special committee that took care of the propaganda work for the study circles was appointed in the same year. And the propaganda work to recruit new members continued to the same kind of extent as in the 1930s. However, one novelty in the propaganda work was the introduction of gymnastics classes for housewives in 1943 (see pictures 14 and 15 in the middle of the book).947 This activity attracted many housewives in Malmö, and from 1956 they could take their children to these classes as well, since Soli- dar then started gymnastics for children.948 These classes continued well into the 1980s and became perhaps the most well-known propaganda activity of Soli- dar.949 However, we know little about what the women who took part in these classes talked about, which means that it is difficult to say anything more than that it was an attractive activity.950 From the annual report in 1941 we also learn that a new Kooperativa Klubben had been formed in one of the newly added districts of Solidar, that is, in Ander- slöv. The original Kooperativa Klubben in Malmö held eight meetings during the year with a mixed program of lectures, films, music entertainment, promotion of co-operative products and social activities, such as coffee drinking and outings in the summer (see pictures from an outing and of a shoe demonstration, pictures 12 and 13 in the middle of the book).951 It is difficult to say whether the character of these meetings had changed, although the fact that between 200 to 400 people came to each meeting makes it likely that the meetings in the 1940s had more of a lecture class character than of a club character. However, after little more than ten years members and employees taking part in the activities arranged by this club, probably knew each other pretty well, which in turn enhanced the social dimension of the meetings of Kooperativa Klubben. The social dimension of co-operation and the need for a forum with more advanced discussions on the subject of co-operation were, according to Johan Lars- ––––––––– 947 In the annual report from 1948 we find out that the groups of husmodersgymnastiken in Solidar celebrated their 5 years jubilee. Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelse för år 1948, p. 18, in , FKFS 1941-1949. 948 In 1956, when the children’s groups started, 200 children joined. Not until 1961 do we find any figures for the groups with housewives. Then in 1961 there were 30 groups with 975 participants and the children’s groups had also expanded to 23 with 807 participants. Förvaltnings- och revi- sionsberättelse för år 1956, p. 10, in FKFS 1950-1960. 949 Interview Gunni Hedvall 1 July 1999. 950 These groups continued to increase in the middle of the 1960s to round about 3,000 women and 1,200 children. Verksamhetsberättelse 1966, Konsum Solidar – Domus, p. 11. In the Annual Report for 1979 it is reported that 4,575 women and 700 children participated in the gymnastic groups of Solidar. ”Konsum äger vi tillsammans” Verksamheten-79, Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 5. 951 Förvaltings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1941, pp. 12-18, in FKFS 1941-1949.

308 son, also the reason why he had initiated the first meeting of Kooperativa Kam- ratkretsen (The Co-operative Comrade Circles). Men who were experienced co- operators, long-time members of Solidar who had taken part in co-operative education, were called by Larsson to a meeting in December 1943 . Some of the participants at this first meeting believed that the new forum should contribute to better and more informed discussions at the meetings of the member council.952 However, judging by the rules for this new forum, accepted in October the following year, the internal work of the group was emphasised. It is stated in th rules that Kooperativa Kamratkretsen should encourage its members to take an interest in the Co-operative movement but also in more general social and economic issues. Additionally, it is pointed out in the rules that the members in this new forum should nurture a sound and honest comrade spirit within the group. The number of members in the circle was limited to 30 and each new member had to be recommended by at least two existing members. The total number of members rose to 50 in May 1946. Another paragraph in the rules reveals that the members of this circle were most likely senior members of Solidar. In Paragraph 5 it is also pointed out that members of the circle should go to the funerals of fellow members.953 The rules in full indicate that this was an exclusive group, a forum for the initiated. The fact that Kooperativa Kamratkretsen only admitted men is interesting. At the time women and men as members of Solidar met and co-operated in Koop- erativa Klubben and in the study circles but, as we saw above, the guilds were only open to female co-operators. It is likely that the men who joined Koopera- tiva Kamratkretsen wished for the same kind of sociability that female co- operators found in the guilds. Comparing with the co-operative forums in New- castle we find that Solidar, at the time when a mixed guild had been working for nearly ten years in Newcastle, instead of introducing a mixed guild, introduced a forum for male co-operators only. Then again, it might not be relevant to compare the development of the guilds in Newcastle with the establishment of Koop- erativa Kamratkretsen. Perhaps we should rather compare the establishment of Kooperativa Kamratkretsen in 1943 with that of the Newcastle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship in 1934 and the activities of that forum. The latter was open to men as well as to women, but it seems as if the participants at the meetings mainly were male members; I have only found a few women who took part in the meetings of the fellowship.954 When it comes the activities of Kooperativa Kamratkretsen and the Newcastle Co-operators’ Educational Fellowship we find that members of these forums discussed similar questions, even though the range of subjects for lectures and discussions was somewhat wider in the case of ––––––––– 952 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen Malmö 14/12 1943. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen Malmö 15/5 1946. Both in Kooperativa Kamratkretsen Malmö Protokoll 1943-1984 A: I-II AA i Malmö. 953 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen Malmö 24/10 1944. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen Malmö 15/5 1946. 954 In the 1930s I noted a Miss Hogg and a Mrs Baron, Minutes of meeting The Newcastle Co- operators’ Educational Fellowship 21st February 1935. Miss Steel is noted in Minutes of the New- castle upon Tyne Co-operative Students’ Fellowship, 22nd March 1956.

309 Kooperativa Kamratkretsen. However, in relation to the Newcastle Society and Solidar the two forums filled a similar function as forums for a more advanced and long-term discussions of the challenges and problems facing the two societies and consumer co-operation in general. At the regular, usually quarterly, meetings of the circle, members listened to lectures and then discussed the topics that the lecturers had talked about. At the first regular meeting of the circle in February 1945 Gösta Bringmark, an editor, spoke on the subject “Co-operation and Socialism”. Mr Bringmark said that the Rochdale Pioneers had taught co-operators how the socialisation of the economy should proceed, that is, the co-operative business form should expand and in that way create a society where also the natural resources could be co-operatively owned.955 At the following meeting in April there was information and discussion of KF’s different activities.956 At the end of August the topic discussed was division of labour, and in October Johan Larsson spoke about the suggestions discussed at the KF Congress. One of the suggestions was that the consumer co- operative societies should sell certain more expensive goods on hire purchase, a subject on which the members’ opinions were divided; some agreed whereas others were sceptical.957 Throughout the 1940s Kooperativa Kamratkretsen continued to discuss issues related to the development of consumer co-operation and those of more general concern. A specific interest was displayed in the development of the city library in Malmö.958 In February 1950 it was decided that the wives of the members should be permitted to take part in more meetings than social meetings (to which they had been invited all a long).959 In May a study visit to Sofielundsskolan, a newly built school, was arranged and some of the wives came along.960At the end of the 1950s many of the members insisted that the wives should be allowed to come to the meetings since their presence made the meetings more lively and contributed to the discussions after the lectures, no decision was taken.961 Among the co-operative issues that Kooperativa Kamratkretsen discussed in the 1950s were: the question whether non-co-operative companies should receive a dividend on the products they bought from KF, the rationalisation of the co- operative retail services, co-operative propaganda in comparison with commercial advertising, co-operation promoting culture, household savings in the co- operative businesses, co-operation and the political neutrality, the future of the Co-operative movement, workers’ co-operatives and their principles, the building of Domus in Malmö, popular movements in the Television Age, KF’s prod-

––––––––– 955 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen Malmö 22/2 1945. 956 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen Malmö 12/4 1945. 957 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 27/8 1945. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 9/10 1945. 958 At three different meetings whereof one meeting in February 1949 took place at the City Library. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 21/12 1946. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 6/10 1948. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 28/2 1949. 959 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 8/2 1950. 960 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 23/5 1950. 961 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 2/5 1957.

310 ucts and customer loyalty, and economic and efficient democracy.962 Koopera- tiva Kamratkretsen apparently took a considerable interest in the development of consumer co-operation, both locally, nationally and internationally. The members of the circle either were members of or had been members of the member council or took an active part in the activities of the propaganda committee. The chairman of the circle Johan Larsson was both the chairman of the propaganda committee and a director in Solidar, positions which he held until 1960. In the 1960s Larsson left his official tasks in Solidar and it is most likely that many of the other members of the circle also left their posts before the member council was dissolved in 1966. Still the circle lived on. To become a member of Kooperativa Kamratkretsen was apparently attractive to some male co-operators who were or had been active in Solidar. In November 1957 six men had applied for membership, but only one, Albert Lundborg, accepted. However, there were those who thought that the number of members in the circle should increase, so at the discussion about changing the rules it was suggested that the total number of members should be raised to 80. Eric Jönsson did not agree, claiming that the strict procedures of admitting new members and the limited number of members vouched for the good quality of the circle. No changes in the rules were made but the discussion continued. At a meeting in September 1961 arranged in co-operation with Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille, i.e. the first branch of the women’s guild in Malmö that we met earlier in the text. The participants at the meeting first discussed why they had become co- operators in the first place. Many said that it was their experience of poverty and co-operative propaganda that had been decisive in their choice to become members. After that followed a discussion of how they should get more people to come to the meetings of the circle and whether it should be possible for women to join. No decision was taken, but the suggestion to increase the total number and accept women as members indicates that at least some members of the circle thought that a new kind of forum for the discussion about Solidar’s and the Co- operative movement’s long-term plans needed to be created. Looking at the program for Kooperativa Kamratkretsen in the 1960, presented in a jubilee history written by Johan Larsson, we find that many of the officials and employees of Solidar came to the meetings of the circle and lectured on implemented and coming changes in Solidar and the Co-operative movement in Sweden. But besides the co-operative issues the circle also took a keen interest in more general questions and discussions of how Malmö and society at large developed. The range of activities of the circle did not change in the 1960s. The problems with decreasing interest in the circle remained and became even more apparent in the early 1970s. Active officials and employees still joined the circle

––––––––– 962 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 20/9 1950. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 20/9 1951. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 14/11 1951. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 7/10 1952. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 24/9 1953. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 25/2 1954. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 21/2 1955. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 24/11 1955. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 2/5 1957. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 13/5 1958, Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 20/12 1958. Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 3/3 1960.

311 but they did not go to the meetings regularly and this made the more regular visitors upset. It was pointed out that the circle was unique in Sweden and those who had been accepted as members should take pride in that and come to the meetings.963 Considering the joint meeting of Kooperativa Kamratkretsen and Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille in 1961 it is apparent that the members of both forums worried about the future of their organisations. The suggestion to join forces can be seen against the background that the activities of Kooperativa Klubben in Malmö, Limhamn and Husie had decreased in the second half of the 1950s. In the annual reports from 1958 and 1959 no activities of these clubs are reported.964 There is no information telling us exactly when these clubs were wound up, but the lack of information in the annual reports indicates that the clubs were either inactive or had been transformed into other kinds of forums. Since the clubs had filled a purpose for members and employees alike it is possible that these clubs developed into a forum only for the employees. Nevertheless, the disappearance of the co-operative clubs implied that no mixed co-operative forums, besides the study circles, were active within Solidar in the 1960s. The propaganda committee, which in the 1960s had been transformed into a sub-committee, was made up solely of the chief executive and representatives from the board, and this sub-committee tried to engage young and new consumers in the business of the society. In this decade the information on education and propaganda in the annual reports is sparse. What we do find is that KF was involved in the work of reaching out to young people and making them interested in consumer co-operation.965 In the middle of the 1960s it was pointed out that schools were given the education material called “Tjäna på att veta” (Benefiting by knowing), produced by KF and distributed by Solidar. This was a material that gave pupils and students information on how to become a wiser consumer.966 At the beginning of the 1970s the society was still distributing education material about co-operation to schools and contacts had also been taken with student organisations at Lund University, but there is no information about what these contacts involved.967 These kinds of propaganda activities, however, did not create any new co-operative forums where members could be engaged in taking part in the democratic decision-making process of the society. As for the question of mixed co-operative forums we find that by the end of the 1960s the guilds had realised that they had to change to keep up with changes both in society at large and within the co-operative organisations. In 1969 Koop- erativa Kvinnogillet changed its name to Kooperativa Gillesförbundet (the Co- operative Guild Union), revising its constitution, which made it possible for men to join the guild branches.968 However, it was up to the different guild branches ––––––––– 963 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 15/12 1973. 964 FKFS 1950-1960. 965 Verksamheten 1961 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 11. 966 Verksamhetsberättelser 1965 Konsum – Solidar – Domus, p. 16. Verksamhetsberättelse 1966 Konsum – Solidar – Domus, p. 11. 967 Verksamheten 1971 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 11. 968 Kooperativ krönika 1812-1970, Kooperativ Information 4/83 KF, pp. 50-51.

312 to adopt this new constitution and invite men to join their branch. Malmö Koop- erativa Kvinnogille did not change its name to Malmö Kooperativa Konsument- gille until 1972. From then on they welcomed women as well as men as members of their guild branch.969 An illustration of guild work in the 1980s is shown in picture 11 in the middle of the book. Looking at the development of co-operative forums in Malmö from the beginning of the 20th century to 1970 we see that the propaganda committee exercised a considerable influence over this development. It was only the first branch of Kooperativa Kvinnogillet in Malmö, formed in 1908, that was not initiated by this committee or other representatives from Solidar. Thus the co-operative forums in Malmö had a more of an immediate auxiliary function in relation to So- lidar than the forums in Newcastle had to the Newcastle Society. The forums in Malmö were part of the democratic system of Solidar, not as channels for mobilisation for particular candidates for the board or resolutions, but as places for education and spreading of information. This model of organising the members is reminiscent of the ways in which other popular movements in Sweden arranged their democratic structure and their system for involving their members. However, in this study it is not these commonalities that are in focus but the implications that Solidar’s way of organising the co-operative forums had for the members’ possibilities and abilities to participate in and influence the decision- making process. The task before us is to relate the findings in Chapter 5 to the conclusions in preceding chapters, and to indicate how this part as a whole links up to the argument in Part Four. I will first make a few points about the development of rules, procedures, routines, the members’ possibilities to participate at members meetings, and differences between the two societies in these respects. Half-way through this part I made it clear in an intermediate summary that apart from commonalities, such as the practice of an open membership policy, there were important differences between the two societies during their infant years. These differences concerned legislation, the impact of model rules, what and how much was at stake at member meetings, and the consequences of all this for the type of organisational problems and solutions we find in the the two societies. We argued that this had an effect on the procedures of member meetings and on rule revisions. The account in Sections 4.1 and 4.2 take up this thread. They show the gradual development over time, both of a practice and of a routine for the member meetings. In the case of the Newcastle Society much was at stake at the meetings. And a rather advanced system of standing orders and rules was successively introduced because of the potential gravity of decisions taken by this meeting. The result was that members who participated at these meetings could exercise a significant influence but that they needed to learn a lot about rules and tactics to do so. This configuration provides the rationale for our lengthy descriptions of co-operative forums related to the Newcastle Society in Section 5.1. On ––––––––– 969 Protokoll möte Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogille 7/2 1972, in Malmö Kooperativa Kvinnogil- le/Malmö Centrala Konsumentgille Mötesprotokoll 1970-1976 in box Malmö Centrala konsumentgille Mötesprotokoll 1970-1991 A:1.

313 the one hand, the meetings of the forums were places where their members learned about co-operation. On the other hand, the forums became part in the ongoing struggle for the resources of the Newcastle Society. Thus, the co-operative forums in Newcastle were places for sociability, for learning meeting skills, and for mobilisation. These characteristics give the forums a special place in the Newcastle Society, and they will be highly relevant in Part Four, where we investigate the distribution of co-operative resources. What about Solidar? Here, too, the co-operative forums were places for sociability. But since the member meeting’s status and decision-making powers were very limited in Solidar, the forums were not so much an instrumental part of mobilisation, and the function of spreading knowledge about rules and procedures was less vital. Nevertheless, the co-operative forums had an important part to play in this society as well. To bring this out, we must relate them to what we found in Section 4.2. In the case of Solidar the drastic change of rules in 1925, in connection with an amalgamation, involved the establishment of a representative structure. To be sure, the transformation of the member meetings from conflict arena to advisory forum had started earlier, in the middle of the 1910s. And the board had also successively handed over decisions on issues related to everyday management to an executive committee and to the chief executive. What was new and important for the development of co-operative democracy in the 1920s, apart from changes in the formal democratic structure, was the work of the propaganda committee presented in Section 5.2. This committee was instrumental in the introduction of co-operative forums in Malmö and in the expanding trading area of Solidar. The forums became part of a system of communication between board and members. So even if the forums in Malmö did not play the same role as in the Newcastle Society, they were integral parts of another configuration. They were places for co-operative propaganda and education, for sociability and communication. With these remarks, we have come to the end of Part Three. The next part will deal with co-operative resources. If Part Three has described the frameworks for decision-making, and Part Two described the traces of decisions, Part Four is concerned with the decisions themelves and with their conditions and effects.

314 Part 4. Economic participation, internal co-operative politics and consumer demand

1. Building up and distributing co-operative resources In this part we shall focus on the building-up of capital resources and the distribution of the surplus in the two societies. In order to start a co-operative business, the necessary capital has first to be raised. People interested in starting a society have but one option, namely to get a sufficient number of people to subscribe to shares and thereby become members. What is considered a sufficient number depends on how much money is deemed necessary to start the business, but also on the price of the shares. By setting a high price for the shares, fewer subscriptions are needed, but fewer people will also be able to afford to become members. Considerations like these are important to indulge in for would-be co- operators. In the case of Solidar and the Newcastle Society, we do not have access to deliberations prior to the foundation of the societies. But a suitable illustration is not far away: Kooperativa Föreningen Seger, one of the societies which amalgamated with Solidar in 1925. When Seger was about to be formed in 1905, the share price was set at 10 kronor. It was reckoned that 2,000 kronor would suffice to acquire a store and get it going, and hence that at least 200 members would have to sign up. Yet, the collectors’ reports indicate that people were slow to sign up. There was indeed an interest in joining, but these were difficult times. Industrial conflicts had broken out in Malmö, and many people did not have the money to join.970 ––––––––– 970 See minutes from meetings on March 28th, April 1st, April 14th, April 28th, May 20th, and May 30th 1905, in Kooperativa Föreningen Seger Protokollsbok No. 1 28/3 1905 – 8/9 1909. It is only at the meeting for people interested in starting a co-operative society May 30th that we learn about the cal-

315 In May 1905, when a preliminary meeting for prospective members was held, it was decided that no financial agreements, such as renting a store, be made until the industrial conflicts were over. The constitutive meeting was finally held in November. By now, conditions had changed somewhat. The premises they wanted to secure for the society were more expensive and would require an initial sum of 3,000 kronor. Moreover, participants at the meeting argued that 10 kronor was an inappropriately high price. Many were interested in joining the society, it was argued, but not everyone could afford to buy a 10-kronor share. It was then finally decided that the value of the shares be 5 kronor each.971 Whether by coincidence or by a conscious symbolic act, the board of Seger signed the contract for a store on 21 December 1905 – the same date as the Rochdale Pioneers opened their store in 1844.972 The example illustrates some of the problems for a co-operative society in the making. Raising capital is a key issue. And capital remains a key issue after the society has been formed. More resources are needed to maintain the co-operative business, and, if the board and members so wished, to expand it. Let us linger a while on this formulation: “if the members so wished”. It indicates an element of choice – not unconditional, to be sure, but a choice nevertheless. The resources generated by the business must be used to pay for the costs of the business operation. Yet, when all expenses have been paid, including taxes and depreciations, there could still be a surplus. The issue, then, is what to do with this surplus. It could be reinvested in the business to solidify or extend it. But it could also be used to cut prices or improve services, it could go back to the members as an interest on share capital and as a dividend on purchases, or be used to fund other activities and purposes. A co-operative society, then, is faced with the task of deciding on the creation and distribution of resources. It has a political life of its own. This part of the book is devoted to the analysis of how resources were created and distributed in the Newcastle Society and Solidar. This is a more complex endeavour than is perhaps apparent from the outset. It is not just a matter of tapping into a particular arena to see how debates unfold, to discern different opinions among different sections of the membership, and to see whose opinions are recorded as decisions in the minutes. This would be inappropriate for at least two reasons. First, the question of how surplus is distributed cannot be separated from the way capital is created, i.e. from the economic participation of the mem-

culation that at least 200 members and a share capital of 2,000 kronor would suffice to start up a business. The industrial disputes that are referred to in the minutes were probably the disputes at Kokums verkstad and Lennanders armaturfabrik. The workers at Kockums stopped working at the end of April. This conflict ended only a half year later, that is in October. See Bjurling, (1985), p. 380-382. 971 Protokoll fört öfver möte med intresserade för bildande af en kooperativ handelsförening, 30/5 1905. Protokoll fört vid konstituerande sammanträde för en kooperativ konsumtionsförening i Malmö 30/11 1905. 972 The members of Seger decided on a meeting 21 December to sign a contract for a store at Ami- ralsgatan. Protokoll fört vid möte med delägarna i kooperativa föreningen Seger u.p.a. den 21/12 1905.

316 bers. Second, the issue is not just what distribution decisions were taken at the member meetings, but also the range and kind of distribution matters that ended up for decision at these meetings. This latter caveat makes it clear that an analysis of the members’ economic participation, and of internal co-operative politics, should weave together strands of analysis presented in other parts of the book. The member meeting can decide what to do with the surplus, but the freedom to dispose of it is circumscribed by legislation and by the rules of the society. Thus, before we can go on to investigate the concrete decisions and debates among the members, we must inquire into the determinants behind the degree of freedom at their disposal. This line of reasoning provides us with a rationale for the outline of Part Four. The first chapter begins with an exposé of the legal framework for co-operative societies. Partly a recapitulation and partly a continuation of the introductory remarks from Parts One and Two, it aims to specify the ways in which legislation, and the influence from federal organisations, affected the means of raising, ad- ministering, and distributing co-operative capital. Chapter 1 also takes us through the procedures and results of raising capital in each of the two societies. Chapter 2, by contrast, deals with the deliberations, demands and decision on how to distribute surplus and administer co-operative capital. Ending this part, Chapter 3 takes us through the member meeting discussions about the development of co-operative retail services.

1.1 Members’ economic participation – raising co-operative capital Let us, by way of introduction, return to Britain and to the Friendly Societies Act of 1846. This act, tailored as it was for the older friendly societies, was also the first framework to regulate emerging co-operative societies. In other contexts, we have had occasion to point out that this law laid down the objects of the societies registering under it, and specified what kind of activities co-operative societies could engage in. It also prescribed rules for how to raise and administer capital, stating… ‘… that the investments in any such society shall not be transferable, and that the investment of each member shall accumulate, or be employed for the sole benefit of the member investing, or the husband, wife, children, or kindred of such member, and that no part thereof shall be appropriated to the relief, maintenance or endowment of any other member or person whomsoever, and that the full amount of the balance due according to the rules of such society to such member, shall be paid to him or her on withdrawing from the society, and that no such last-mentioned society shall be entitled or allowed to invest its funds, or any part thereof, with the Com- missioners for the Reduction of the National Debt.’973

––––––––– 973 Quoted in Gosden, (1979), p. 191.

317 The formulations in the law betray its origin in the context of friendly societies. Societies registering under it were more or less regarded as savings institutions, and friendly societies were indeed established for the purpose of saving and sociability. As we have described elsewhere, the act would later be subject to successive adjustments, so as to better accommodate the needs of manufacturing and trading co-operative societies. Yet, some of the objects and regulations detailed in the quote above would remain, and they would codetermine the nature of British co-operative societies in the 20th century as well. One restriction in the act, which we shall get back to below, concerns the administration of the capital which members had invested in their societies: their investments were withdrawable, but not transferable. This regulation distinguished shares in societies registering under the Friendly Societies Act from those in companies registered under the Company Act. Further legal changes – the Industrial and Provident Societies Act of 1852 – amplified the differences between these two legal frameworks. It brought more detailed prescriptions regarding interest on capital, imposing a six-percent limit on interest on capital and ruling that no dividend was to be paid on capital. This gave indirect legal rein- forcement to a principle which had already been practised in early consumer co- operative societies, namely that of paying a dividend on purchases. The act of 1852 also contained other novelties which would prove consequential. Members were not allowed to invest more than £100 in their society.974 Yet, the societies were allowed to accept loans from their members of up to four times the subscribed capital. As Cole points out, this meant the introduction of a distinction which would characterise the future structure of co-operative businesses, namely that between share and loan capital.975 Moreover, the law now required a more formalised presentation of the accounts of the societies. The act prescribed that an annual statement of the assets and liabilities of the society had to be prepared and submitted to the registrar. A side-effect of this regulation was that the members, too, could keep a better check on the finances of their society.976 The next major change dates from 1862. Co-operative societies were now granted the privilege of limited liability. This no doubt added to the attractions of joining a co-operative society, since it reduced the risks involved. A member joining a society registered under the Industrial and Provident Societies Act of 1862 was not liable for the debts of the society in case it would fail. That is to ––––––––– 974 Gosden, (1973), pp. 192-193. Gosden does not point out the fact that the share capital in co- operative societies was withdrawable and that this also is something that distinguish these societies from companies. This is something that Campbell B. Burns point out in his study of co-operative law in Britain, France and Hungary. Burns who is unaccustomed to the co-operative usage explains the procedure of withdrawing membership and share capital by saying that the Society repay the contributions of members. But he emphasise how this practice distinguish co-operative capital from that of companies registered under the Company Act. See Burns Campbell B., Co-operative Law, Co-operative College Papers nr 17 February 1977, Education Department, Co-operative Union, pp. 52-53. 975 Cole, (1947), p. 119. 976 Cole, (1947), p. 119. Gosden, (1973), p. 139.

318 say: the only risk the members took would be that of losing their invested capital. This addition to the Industrial and Provident Societies Act, as well as similar adjustments in 1867 and 1871, brought it closer to the legal framework applying to companies. They made it possible for the societies to invest their funds in other co-operative societies registered under the Industrial and Provident Societies Act, and thus created the legal space necessary for the establishment of federal co-operative societies. Co-operative societies were also allowed to deal in land, and they were authorised to make loans to members on the security of personal or real property. In 1872, the CWS opened a loan and deposit department, and four years later, when the Industrial and Provident Societies Act of 1876 legal- ised banking, that department changed its name to the banking department.977 One effect of the legislative changes in the 1860s was that co-operative trade underwent a considerable expansion in the 1860s and 1870s. There were further changes to the act in the middle of the 1870s and in 1893, which brought co- operatives back into the family of friendly societies. The limited liability clause remained, and the changes did not put an end to expansion. But it was nevertheless a shift in the sources of inspiration of the legislature. It is evident, for example, in the attention devoted to deposits in the 1893 version of the act, where it is stated that the minimum amount which members could deposit with their societies at one time should be increased from five to ten shillings. Such measures are irrelevant to companies.978 The initial legal framework for British co-operative societies and the alterations it was subjected to during the 19th century provide a pattern for the raising and administration of capital in co-operative societies. As far as these matters are concerned, there were no major, but a few minor, changes during the 20th century. There were, for example, adjustments to the maximum and minimum sums which members could invest as share capital in, or deposit with, their societies. In 1952 the maximum sum of share capital was raised from £200 to £500, the minimum sum for deposits increased from 10 shillings to £2, and the maximum amount that members could place in their small savings accounts was £50. Such figures are, of course, likely to be revised in response to inflation. Thus, in 1960, the maximum sum of share capital each member was allowed to hold was set to £1,000.979 But these are minute alterations, and there is little reason to go into details. Yet, before we take the leap to Sweden and Solidar, it is instructive to make one last detour and take a bird’s-eye view of co-operative legislation in Britain. In the late 1970s, the Co-operative Union asked Campbell B. Burns, an expert on commercial law, to make a comparative study of co-operative law. The point of departure for Burns’ inquiry was the legal framework for companies, and his analysis brought out contrasts which had gone unnoticed in the works of specialists on co-operation and friendly societies. Two points in Burns’ work stand out as particularly important in our context. The first is derived from a comparison ––––––––– 977 Cole, (1947), pp. 123-124. 978 Gosden, (1973), p. 195. 979 Bonner, (1970), p. 286.

319 between the Industrial and Provident Societies Act and the Company Act in Brit- ain. In this connection, Burns notes that the capital base of co-operative societies is vulnerable, since share capital is withdrawable. A second, and related, point is occasioned by a comparison with France. In contrast to French legislation, the Industrial and Provident Societies Act does not stipulate that societies must have a reserve fund. Had there been such a provision in British law, co-operative societies would have been obliged to set up an arrangement that could contribute to a more secure capital base, and bolster the vulnerabilities brought on by withdrawable share capital. In Britain, it was up to the individual co-operative societies and their member meetings to decide whether a reserve fund should be established and, if so, how great resources should be allotted to it.980 These observations on the relatively exposed position inherent in the co-operative method of raising capital and on the role of the reserve fund as a possible remedy are worth keeping in mind as we begin our comparison with Sweden. Sweden in the 19th century witnessed a remarkable upsurge in societies and companies. We have described this development elsewhere – in Part One, Chap- ter 6 – but it deserves to be emphasised. The number, and diversity, of societies which cropped up took legislators by surprise. They had a hard time keeping up with the developments. One consequence of this was that, for the better part of the 19th century, co-operative ventures in Sweden had to register under the Joint Stock Company Act if they wished to enjoy legal protection. Whether the co- operative societies opted for registration under the Joint Stock Company Act or refrained from legal protection altogether the practices they built up were shaped by their choice. Tore Johansson’s inquiries reveal, for example, that we can discern three alternative ways of distributing surplus in 19th-century co-operative businesses in Sweden. Some societies distributed it evenly among their members, others distributed it in proportion to the sums invested by each member, and still others as a proportion of the member’s purchases. But Johansson also goes on to point out a trend among the early Swedish co-operative societies: many of them set aside a fairly large amount of money in a reserve fund.981 This indicates that the Joint Stock Company Act served as model. The Association Act was finally introduced in 1895. The intention was to ensure that members who invested money in associations and societies would be granted limited liability, while at the same time providing a legal framework which was better equipped to handle the specific needs of such organisations. By 1895, however, a great many co-operative societies had been in operation for a long time under the old legal framework. They had already developed practices, and these had become increasingly entrenched, leaving traces in the mind-frames of the co-operators and in the organisational apparatus of the co-operatives. The legacy of these early experiences would continue under the new legal regime. In fact, the Association Act provided no detailed instructions as to the administration of capital. It did require registering societies to state the purpose of the society, to define how much each share was worth, and how the shares were to ––––––––– 980 Burns, (1977), pp. 52-54. 981 Johansson, (1999), p. 10.

320 be paid up. On registering, societies also had to define the responsibilities of the board, how many people were on it, and who they were. And the procedures for calling audits and member meetings had to be described in the rules of the society.982 Yet, the act left it to the societies to make these definitions; there was no ready-made mould provided in the law. In contrast to British legislation, for example, it prescribed no maximum amount of share capital that each member could hold. As far as consolidation and reserves are concerned, the act gave no guidelines.983 This was the situation at the turn of the century, when the KF federal organisation was formed. On the one hand, Swedish co-operators had a new legal framework to relate to, but issues of capital formation and administration were underdetermined in the act. On the other hand, many co-operatives had worked under the legal framework of the Joint Stock Company Act. Not only would these societies stay with the practices they had already developed, they also provided possible models for emerging societies. Moreover, they were active participants when KF was established in 1899.984 The organisational pattern that emerged under the Joint Stock Company Act was thus given an institutional base in the federal organisation, for KF would focus much attention on the rules and finances of its member societies. They had a good reason to so. Since KF was conceived as a combined union and wholesale, they were anxious to ensure that the societies they engaged with in business terms had sound finances. The background in the Joint Stock Company Act casts its shadow over the efforts of KF. It made it all the more important to define co-operation and co-operative societies in such a way that they were set apart from joint-stock companies. At the same time, the old legislative framework had provided the legal milieu in which key practices were developed, and some of these practices were now propagated by KF. Two examples help elucidate these points. We begin with the issue of co- operative propaganda and education. Both the federal organisation and many advocates of co-operation were concerned with the sound finances of co-operative societies and of the member households. One way to exert influence in this regard was via education. This area has indeed been the focus of much recent Swedish research on consumer co-operation and KF. We shall get back to it in the next section, when we examine the relation between the finances of the societies and the economy of the member households. But it also has a place in the current context, for it testifies to the effort of KF to influence the way their member societies thought about financial matters. At the Co-operative Congress in 1908 there was a motion on the education of employees and officials. This was not the first time that business education was ––––––––– 982 Johansson, (1999), p. 13. 983 Kooperationen i Sverige. Betänkande av kooperationsutredningen, SOU 1979:62, Stockholm, p. 84. 984 At KF’s constituting meeting in 1899 the 44 representatives present represented 41 societies/companies. Of these 41 there were 14 joint stock companies, 25 consumer co-operative societies, one people’s house societies and one store that most likely was registered as a trading company. Gjöres Axel, Stormår, (1963), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm, pp. 104-105.

321 on the agenda of the federal organisation. At the very first co-operative congress, Mr G. H. von Koch had argued that sound bookkeeping was a condition for all kinds of business, but that a particular kind of co-operative bookkeeping needed to be worked out. During the first years of the 20th century, several attempts to work out a form of co-operative bookkeeping were presented and distributed. They were moderately successful. The motion at the congress in 1908 was more ambitious. It proposed that KF should start a business school that would make managers out of those who were already co-operators, and co-operators out of those who were business men.985 And at the beginning of the 1910s, when Albin Johansson’s handbook in bookkeeping appeared and was offered as course material for a correspondence course, economic education under the auspices of KF had become established.986 Now, economic education is by no means peculiar to Swedish co-operation. We find it in Britain as well.987 Yet, the dual objectives of KF, i.e. to define co-operative business and to ensure that member societies had sound finances, gave it a special place in Swedish co-operative education. Hence, while economic practice was part of co-operative education in Britain, too, it did not receive such a prominent place in the education of members and employees as it would in Sweden.988 It is now time to move on to our second example. KF also had more tangible ways of controlling the finances of its member societies. For example, the federal organisation built up a Credit Rating Department, and its accountants tried to keep a check on the finances of the co-operative societies.989 These measures no doubt testify to the federal organisation’s concern with sound finances. In our present context, however, there is another control device which is of greater importance, namely the model rules issued by KF. For if we consult the model rules from 1908, we find a prescription that 15 per cent of the surplus should be applied to a reserve fund. The practice of setting aside large amounts in a reserve fund had prevailed in Swedish co-operatives before. It was developed in a period ––––––––– 985 “…vikten av att KF grep in och gjorde föreståndarkårens kooperatörer till affärsmän och dess af- färsmän till kooperatörer…”, Ruin, (1960), p. 45. 986 Elldin Harald, Klipp och bakgrunder till kooperativt fostringsarbete under ett halvsekel, (1950), Kooperativa Förbundets Bokförlag, Stockholm, pp. 109-111. 987 Before the establishment of the Co-operative Union in 1869, co-operative education focused on the educational infrastructure, such as providing members with libraries and reading rooms, and with elementary education in reading, writing and mathematics. See Everitt, (1997). Moreover, Pe- ter Gurney has argued that, during the second half of the 19th century, education tended to focus upon ideas, the idea of social transformation to be more precise, rather than on practical matters. See Gurney, (1996), particularly Chapter 2 on “Education and social transformation”. It should be noted, however, that there are exceptions. In the syllabi from the Education Committee of the Co- operative Union we find that, in 1889, there are classes in subjects such as “Elementary and Ad- vanced Co-operation” and “Co-operative Book-keeping”. On this point, cf. Hall F. and Watkins W. P. Co-operation: A Survey of the History, Principles, and Organisation of the Co-operative Move- ment in Great Britain and Ireland, (1937), Co-operative union Ltd., Manchester, Appendix IV Some Educational Developments, 1886 to 1900, p. 383. 988 The importance of economic thinking and practice in the education of members is something that Peder Aléx’ studies have demonstrated. Aléx, (1994). As for the education of employees see Holm, (1984), in particular Chapter 4 “Den kooperativa utbildningsfrågan”. 989 Ruin, (1960), pp. 40-56.

322 when many co-operative societies registered under the Joint Stock Company Act. Yet, this practice was now elevated to the status of a model rule and became an entrance requirement in KF. All societies which joined KF after 1908 had to adopt these rules. Thus, in contrast to French legislation, neither the British Industrial and Provi- dent Societies Act nor the Swedish Association Act required co-operative societies to develop a fair-sized reserve fund. There is nevertheless a difference between Britain and Sweden, and it is conditioned, albeit in an indirect fashion, by legal differences. For although the Association Act of 1895 gave no detailed instructions as to how the co-operative capital should be handled, KF’s model rules did. KF had absorbed practices which were shaped by the Joint Stock Company Act, and they were diffused by means of propaganda, assistance, and model rules. We should add, of course, that even if prospective members had to subscribe to the model rules, they were not forced to join KF. And all co-operative societies did not join. The impact was nevertheless immense, at least among consumer co-operatives. In 1909, there were 385 member societies in KF, and 367 of them were consumer co-operative societies. Ten years later, the total figure was 918, of which 897 were consumer co-operative societies.990 There is thus a difference between Britain and Sweden, in that Swedish consumer co-operatives have been obliged to accumulate considerable amounts of money in the reserve fund, and so have been less exposed to the dangers of having withdrawable but not transferable shares. To be sure, our two cases – the Newcastle Society and Solidar – survived and prospered, but the national differences in this regard nevertheless have implications for them as well. The member meeting in the Newcastle Society retained the control over the macro allocation to, and the micro allocations from, the reserve fund, whereas the member meeting in Solidar had no authority to interfere with the stipulated 15 per cent of the surplus which must go to the reserve fund. Let us, however, get back to the legal developments in Sweden. The Associa- tion Act was revised in 1911. The revision did not add any detailed instructions on how the societies should handle their capital. There was one major change, however. The new act put an end to the banking business which KF had already initiated through the introduction of the so-called Folk-Lån (People’s Loan). From 1911, it was only possible for members in the co-operative societies, not the general public, to deposit sums in their societies. The same regulation applied to deposits in the co-operative federal organisation, i.e. KF or Folksam (the Swedish Co-operative Insurance Society).991 KF and Folksam were now debarred from embarking on the road taken by the CWS in Britain, namely to start up a banking business and generate capital for co-operative expansion in that way. There was a further revision of the Association Act in 1951. For the first time, the law now contains some detailed instructions regarding the distribution of surplus. Societies which were registered under the act were required to apply a ––––––––– 990 Ruin, (1960), pp. 20-21. 991 Ruin, (1960), p. 57.

323 minimum 5 per cent of the surplus to a reserve fund.992 The 1951 version of the Association Act can thus be seen as a conscious effort to construe a legislative framework adapted to co-operatives and co-operative businesses. For KF’s member societies, however, the new law was superfluous. They had abided by much stricter rules since the beginning of the 20th century. This reference to the rules of KF is a suitable final chord for our exposition of the legislative frameworks in Britain in Sweden. It highlights a key difference between the two countries. We have introduced other important ingredients as well, e.g. the distinction between share and loan capital, but the national differences regarding the reserve fund is no doubt the central conclusion of our account so far in this chapter. So how did this affect our two cases? What becomes of the national differences when we shift our focus to the local level, to the organisational practices of the Newcastle Society and Solidar? This is our next object of analysis. We will examine how the relations between withdrawable capital and reserve funds developed. More generally, we will inquire into the evolution of the balance between different forms of capital. More generally still, we will see how the practice of raising capital unfolded in the two societies.

1.1.1 Forms of capital – the Newcastle Society and Solidar By describing and comparing how the Newcastle Society and Solidar raised their capital, we get a sense of the economic principles underlying the two societies. It will also provide us with a platform for an analysis of members’ economic participation and how it ties into the economic conditions of their societies. Yet, rather than anticipating what will receive more thorough attention later on, we will do best to start with a brief account of their first efforts to raise capital. We have already noted that we lack information about the considerations prior to the foundation of the two societies. In the Newcastle case, we are also deprived of first-hand sources from the initial years. The jubilee history from 1886 nevertheless furnishes us with a couple of details. The founding members of the Newcastle Society decided that a membership of 70 people – and a capital of £28, 5 shillings and 9 pence – would suffice to start a business.993 The outcome of their deliberations strongly suggests that Holyoake’s book on the Rochdale Pioneers was not only a source of inspiration, but was also used as a guide to the practicalities of setting up a co-operative society. When the Pioneers opened their store in 1844, they too had collected £28.994 These pieces of information have been reported elsewhere, but they deserve to be mention again, since they give a picture of the financial situation in the early days. When the desired number of ––––––––– 992 The act allowed for exceptions. Societies were allowed to deduct last year’s losses from the surplus, and if these losses were larger than the current surplus, the sum stacked away in the reserve fund would be five per cent on nothing. Moreover, the societies only had to keep assigning the stipulated 5 per cent up to a certain point. The rule was cancelled if the capital in the fund was equal to, or in excess of, 40 per cent of the assets of the Society, or if it exceeded the debts of the society. See Rodhe, (1952), pp. 95-96. 993 A Brief Account…, p. 1. 994 Cole, (1947), p. 78.

324 members, and the agreed amount of money, had been properly secured, the society could go on – in 1861 – to rent a store in Nelson Street for £16 a year.995 The source situation is somewhat better in Solidar, for here we have access to minutes from the early years. They reveal that the issue of raising capital was of high priority for the first members of the society. The society needed to get hold of a bakery in order to start its business. The original board realised that the share capital collected during the first month, i.e. in October 1907, would not cover the cost of building a bakery. Thus, they opted instead for renting one. But this, too, proved to be difficult at first. Due to difficulties in securing a proper bakery at an affordable price, it was not until February 1908 that the society could rent a bakery and store at Möllevångstorget.996 We already know where the necessary capital came from. The societies gathered it in the form of subscriptions, i.e. from shares purchased by the members. In order to become a member, and hence be entitled to vote at meetings, you would have to pay for a minimum of shares. This holds true for both societies. But they also employed the same strategy for lowering the threshold for joining. Both the Newcastle Society and Solidar introduced systems of instalments. Members could choose between paying the entire amount of the minimum number of shares at once and paying it gradually by way of instalments. Instalments, in turn, could either be paid in cash or – as explained in Section 2.2 of Part Two – have sums deducted from the dividend which they would receive upon their purchases.997 Now, in order to capture the intricacies involved in raising capital, and the relation between different forms of capital, we must take a slightly more holistic view of the societies and review them separately. We will begin with the New- castle Society, and first ask about the regulation of the maximum number of shares which members could hold. In Britain, the law set a limit to how much capital each member was allowed to hold in their societies. Between 1905 and 1952, it was £200. Legislative changes in 1952 re-specified the limit to £500, and a further change in 1968 raised it to £1,000. The figures of the Newcastle Society correspond exactly to those admitted by national legislation.998 Much capital was in fact raised in the form of purchased shares. Members used their co-operative society as a savings institution. Yet, since the interest rate was fairly generous, this could also be a source of trouble. There is an example of this from 1914. The board was worried that too much capital was flowing into shares, and that the society could have a hard time investing the money in such a way that it could match the current 5 per cent interest rate given to the share holders. With the current rate of annual purchases, it ––––––––– 995 A Brief Account…, p. 1. 996 Protokoll öfver mötet interimstyrelse Solidar. söndagen 22/12 1907. Protokoll öfver styrelsens möte 31/1 1908. Gruveman, (1933), pp. 15-16. See also Part Three Chapter 2. 997 See Part Two Section 2.2. 998 Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905. Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 1946; Minutes 364th Quarterly Gen- eral Meeting, 30th April 1952; Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd. 1963; Rules of the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd., 1968.

325 was estimated, it would take members ten years to reach the legally imposed limit of £200.999 And there was, simultaneously, a sharp increase in the member figures, which was expected to continue. There was a need, then, to moderate either the inflow of share capital, or its effects, but the question was how to do it. It was resolved that interest on share capital would remain at 5 per cent, so the solution would have to be sought elsewhere. It consisted in the introduction of a temporary system, according to which cash contributions to share accounts would be discontinued after the first three shares of £1 each had been paid up.1000 This did not prevent the share capital from increasing: the new members were both allowed and obliged to pay for their first three shares, and if members ab- stained from collecting their dividend, it would still be transferred to their share accounts. It is safe to assume, however, that it kept a check on a potentially much larger share capital increase. Another ingredient in the temporary system was that cash contributions in excess of the required three pounds would be automatically transferred to a loan account. The distinction between loan and share accounts had been made as early as the Industrial and Provident Societies Act of 1852, and loan accounts were introduced in the Newcastle Society in 1878.1001 As the reader may recall, the law allowed societies to accept loans from their members of up to four times the subscribed capital. Yet, such loans had not been popular among the members in the Newcastle Society. The reason for this was probably that loan accounts had lower interest rates. In 1914, it was set to 3 ½ per cent, compared to the 5 per cent interest rate on share capital.1002 Thus, a consequence of the decision in 1914 was that much capital was automatically redirected to a type of account which was less of a financial burden for the society. A glance at Chart 7 below confirms that from 1915 there was a remarkable increase of capital in the loan accounts.1003 Now, if it could sometimes be a problem for the Newcastle Society that too much capital was flowing into shares, there was also the opposite danger. Share and loan capital are both withdrawable. To ensure at least a modicum of financial stability for the society, members had to notify in advance if they wished to withdraw. How many days of notice the members were required to give the society depended on the sums they wished to withdraw. This, however, is feeble protection against the vulnerability, as described by Campbell B. Burns, inherent in having a withdrawable but not transferable capital base.

––––––––– 999 Directors’ Report for the Half-year ended December 6th 1913, inserted next to Minutes Directors’ Meeting, 13th January 1914. 1000 Minutes Directors’ Meeting, 13th January 1914. 1001 This year is the first year that any sums under the category of loans are reported in the Return of Trade to the Co-operative Union. 1002 Minutes Directors’ Meeting, 13th January 1914. 1003 By dividing the sum in the share account with the number of members after 1914 we do not end up with £3 per member and this indicate that members could hold more than £3 in their share accounts. But this does not thwart the fact that the sums in the loan account increased considerably after the introduction of the transfer system.

326 The reliance on withdrawable capital has some important practical consequences. The society had to invest a considerable amount of this capital in such a way that they could get hold of it relatively easy, in the event that members wished to withdraw their share capital. Runs on the Co-op were uncommon, but the society always had to be prepared for a situation when many members wanted to withdraw their capital at the same time.1004 It also made it all the more important for the society to gain and keep the confidence of the members, for a run on the society could jeopardise the entire operation, or at least severely un- dermine the capital base. The Newcastle Society did in fact experience something which could have escalated into a run on the society, for in the years 1877, 1878 and 1879, many displeased members withdrew their capital. In 1876 the share capital was £18,002; in 1877 it decreased to £16,115, and the year after that the share capital had dropped to £14,408. It was only in 1880 that the figures started to increase again and landed on £19,559.1005 Let us now take a more macroscopic view and consider the long-term development of the relations between share capital, loan capital, and the reserve fund. One way of reducing the vulnerability caused by having a withdrawable capital base would be to set aside money in a reserve fund. We know, however, that British legislation did not require societies to have a reserve fund, let alone prescribe how great resources should be assigned to it. This was up to the societies to determine, and in the Newcastle Society it was the member meeting that decided over the macro allocation to, and the micro allocations from, the reserve fund. In other words, allocation to the reserve fund competed with other possible uses of the surplus. So how much money was assigned to it? As Chart 7 shows, the resources in the reserve fund increase over time. But the increase is slow, and, more importantly, it is but a fraction of the share capital, and it remains far below loan capital until the 1960s.

––––––––– 1004 For explanation of how the society economy worked and the difference between different kinds of capital see Persson Ernst, Föreningarnas ekonomi, (1933), Kooperativa Förbundets Bokförlag, Stockholm. Carr-Saunders, (1938), 128-132, 452-453. 1005 Congress Proceedings/Congress Report “Bird’s-eye View of Four Hundred (76, 72, and 70) Co- operative Societies”, 1877 and 1878. Return of Trade Northern Section, 1879 and 1880.

327 Chart 7. Share, loan and reserves: The Newcastle Society 1872-1969

4000000

3000000

2000000

Share Capital 1000000 Loan Capital

0 Reserve Fund Sums in British pounds 1872 1892 1912 1932 1952 1882 1902 1922 1942 1962

YEAR

Sums indexed in 1872 prices Source chart 7: Between 1872 and 1878 Congress Proceedings/Congress Report “Bird’s- eye View of Four Hundred (76, 72, and 70) Co-operative Societies”. Between 1879 and 1969 Return of Trade Northern Section. Both Congress Proceedings/Congress Report and Return of Trade consists of annual statistics sent to the Co-operative Union. The chart also contains information which calls for explanation, e.g. the relation between share and loan capital. The time series for loan capital roughly follows the ups and downs of share capital up until 1952; at this point the correlation is broken and seemingly reversed for a while. The initial correlation between the two time series is easily explained. They are both reflections of underlying causes, i.e. externally or internally conditioned variations in the members’ will to invest. The question is how we should understand the break in 1952. It would be tempting, at first blush, to propose that some form of exchange relationship had been introduced between share and loan capital, and hence that one cause accounts for both developments. Yet, the facts indicate that another explanation must be sought: the increase in share capital had other causes than the decrease in loan capital. We begin with the decrease in loan capital. During the Second World War, both the share and the loan account underwent a dramatic increase. One reason for this was war-time rationing. People simply could not spend their money on consumption. The investments reflect an absence of consumption possibilities. Rationing, however, did not end with the war. It was lifted gradually, and was not taken away until the beginning of the 1950s. When rationing disappeared, people were no longer forced to refrain from consumption. Contributions to the loan accounts ceased, and members also began to withdraw money from them. We get a sense of this if we compare loan accounts with how the members’ debts to the society developed. These debts, originating in members’ use of hire purchase schemes, began to increase when the war ended, but sky-rocketed in the mid-1950s. 1956 saw the introduction of a

328 38-week club, and, in 1958, the Newcastle Society offered a popular television rental scheme.1006 The rise in share capital, on the other hand, was supported by at least two tributary streams. One factor which must be taken into account is a legislative change in 1952, which increased the maximum amount of shares from £200 to £500. But this cannot be the sole explanation, for the Newcastle Society had successively lowered the interest rate on share capital. In 1932, it was brought down to 4 ½ per cent, and in 1943 it was set at 3 ½ per cent, i.e. the same percentage as that on loan capital.1007 There was thus no gain to be made by moving capital from loans to shares. The increased maximum amount could nevertheless affect the sum total of share capital, for both the interest on share capital and un- realised dividend would go back into shares. A second factor was that member figures continued to increase after the war, at a slightly higher rate. Each new member still had to pay up the requisite three £1 shares. Finally, we must say a few words about the drop in share capital towards the end of the period. Chart 7 shows that share capital goes up and down throughout the 1960s, and that it takes a deep dip at the end of the decade. Sales dropped in the 1960s. This had a direct impact on shares, for it meant that members would not receive as much dividend, and one of the flows that go into share capital is dividend which the members have refrained from taking out in cash. Dropping sales is also an indication that the times were hard for the members. And they would get worse. In the late 1960s, the coal fields in the North East were hard hit. Newcastle, too, suffered from the decline of the industrial economy. People moved from the area including society members, who withdrew their capital. One specific event aggravated the situation for the Newcastle Society. At the end of October 1969, BBC had a newsflash from the village of Millom in Cum- berland, reporting that the Co-op there had gone bust. As the newscaster presented the story, the television viewers could get the impression that it was the Co-op at large which had gone bust, not only the society in this particular village.1008 A panic spread throughout Britain after the report, and members withdrew huge amounts from their share accounts.1009 The Newcastle Society was no exception. During a three-week period, members withdrew £207,000 of their share capital. Additional withdrawals in 1969 created a liquidity problem for the society, and it was only by selling the Murton House premises and some government stock, and through bank overdrafts, that the board managed the situation.1010 ––––––––– 1006 See Part Two Section 2.3. 1007 At the quarterly meeting in July 1932 the chairman announced that the interest rate on share capital had been reduced from 5 per cent to 4,5 per cent. Minutes 285th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1932. Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1932. “Interest on share capital reduced from 4 ½ % to 3 ½ % because of the inability to re-invest capital at rates comparable to those being paid by the Society.” Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1943. 1008 Verbatim transcript of BBC television ‘Nation Wide’ 6.20 p.m. 30th October 1969. 1009 See “Millom Society and the B.B.C.”, Co-operative Gazette, number 34, 10th November 1969. “Millom Society and the B.B.C.”, Co-operative Gazette, number 36, 24th November 1969. 1010 Minutes Annual General Meeting, 25th March 1970.

329 The Millom incident illustrates the vulnerability of withdrawable capital. In fact, the Millom Society had not gone bust, it had gone into liquidation. In other words, members and creditors had not lost their money.1011 And had that particular society really suffered bankruptcy, it would not have affected other co- operative societies. Even so, the panic was a fact. At least a portion of the membership did not know enough about the way their society worked to realise that there was no danger, and when withdrawals are talked about and made in sufficient numbers, other members will fear that the society really is in trouble and they will withdraw their money. The financial stability of a society is thus brittle, and relies to a large extent on member confidence. When that confidence is shaken, regardless of the reasons for the breech in trust, there is a risk that there will be a run on the society – and the society must always be ready and able to pay up. One way of mitigating all these effects is to have a fairly sized reserve fund, but, as we have seen, the member meeting had not chosen to assign much money to it. These remarks provide a bridge to our Swedish case. What was the long-term balance between share capital, loan capital, and the reserve fund in Solidar? Be- fore we go into these figures, we should explain a few details about the conditions for raising capital in this society. The Association Act contains no prescriptions about the maximum number of shares which societies may allow their members to hold. Nor was there such a limit in Solidar. The reason for this lack, however, is that there was no need to limit shares. In contrast to the British case, members in Solidar did not use their society as a savings institution to the same extent as the members in the Newcastle Society. This has important consequences for how the share account worked, for members as well as for the society. So how did it work? Members in Solidar had an incentive to buy enough shares to attain full membership, which, for the better part of the period we are studying, amounted to twenty 10-kronor shares. Until they had paid that amount, the dividend they received on their purchases would be transferred into the share account and could not be taken out in cash. Once members had paid for the full amount of shares, they could choose between having the dividend on their purchases and the interest on their share capital in cash or transferred into shares. Members tended to opt for the former alternative. The problem which was thus imposed on Solidar is a mirror image of that faced by the Newcastle Society: in Solidar, members had to be encouraged to save their money in the society; in the ––––––––– 1011 The Co-operative Union’s comment to the programme: “The programme was concentrated round the unfortunate affairs of the Millom Society. This is a small society in a remote part of Cumber- land, which has suffered severely through the closure of the local steel works. Serious unemployment has arisen with consequent diminution of consumer spending power, which must have affected all traders besides the Millom Co-operative Society Ltd. Altogether the Society has £80,000 of capital. How much of this will be repaid to members will not be known until the liquidation is complete. That members will get something back is certain. Whatever happens the members will not lose the whole of their capital, and it is therefore, irresponsible of the B.B.C. to infer that the members have lost all their savings. “Millom Society and the B.B.C.”, Co-operative Gazette, number 34, 10th November 1969.

330 Newcastle Society, the board had problems with members being to keen on investing money in their society. When Solidar was in need of capital, the members had to be persuaded to leave their dividend and interest money with the society rather than taking it out in cash. In the early days, the board of Solidar was able to use the member meeting as an occasion to ask the members not to withdraw dividend and interest. This is, for instance, what happened in 1919, when the society needed funds to extend the co-operative business.1012 Yet, this solution became increasingly untenable as the society expanded. A plea from the directors at member meetings would only reach so many members. A different strategy was used in 1951. At this point, Solidar, and the Co- operative movement in general, needed capital for the modernisation of the stores and for the conversion into self-service. In order to raise capital for this endeavour, the society introduced a system where all share capital in excess of the requisite 200 kronor was automatically transferred to a new account, the so- called Medlemmarnas återbäringsmedel (the dividend money of the members). This account was the equivalent of the loan account in Britain, and we shall henceforth refer to it in these terms. Yet, contrary to the Newcastle Society, the intention was to increase rather than moderate the inflow of capital. Only the automatic transfers, and no additional deposits, could go into this loan account. And the capital in the new account earned the same kind of interest as the money in the share account.1013 But it was nevertheless more beneficial. Withdrawing money from the share account was cumbersome, and the member had to notify the society far in advance. The loan account, by contrast, was freely disposable to the member. Members could still take out their dividend in cash, but this became less urgent if the money could be kept in an account that you could get hold of more easily. Chart 8 below reveals that loan capital did arrive, but also that it remained a very little proportion of the share capital until the second half of the 1960s. The loan capital dovetails with share capital at a distance until 1967; from then on, it increases sharply and rapidly surpasses the share capital. This, however, was not due to a sudden rise in popularity. The break in the pattern is rather explained by a rule change: in 1967, the number of shares required for full membership was lowered from twenty to ten shares, i.e. 100 kronor. The excess amount in the share account was simply transferred to the loan account.1014

––––––––– 1012 In 1919 The board had asked the members not withdraw their dividend on purchase or the money they received as interest on share capital. In the annual report of 1920 the board conclude that out of the 20,000 kronor that members had received as dividend on purchase and share capital they had only withdrawn 5,000 kronor. Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1919, p. 7, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1013 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1951, p. 47, in FKFS 1950-1960. 1014 Verksamhetsberättelser 1967 Konsumtionsföreningen Solidar, p.9.

331 Chart 8. Share, loan and reserves: Solidar 1908-1980

50000000

40000000

30000000

20000000 Reserve fund

10000000 Share capital

Loan capital Sums in Swedish Kronor 0 1908 1918 1928 1938 1948 1958 1968 1978

YEAR

Sums indexed by 1914 prices Source chart 8: Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1908 to 1923 Kooperativa Bageri- föreningen Solidar, Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1924 to 1952 Kooperativa Fö- reningen Solidar, Styrelsens, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser 1953 to 1955 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1956 to 1960 Kooperativa Fö- reningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1960 to 1986 Konsumentföreningen Solidar. Yet, the relation between share and loan capital is not the most interesting feature of Chart 8. What is far more significant, from a comparative point of view, is the relation between both these accounts, i.e. the withdrawable capital, and the reserve fund. The reserve fund rose steadily in Solidar. It surpassed the share capital in the early 1940s, and, from then on, it increasingly outweighs share and loan capital – in stark contrast to the Newcastle Society, where the reserve fund is but a fraction of the withdrawable capital. As we already know, this was the result of Solidar’s decision to affiliate with KF. In order to obtain membership in KF, societies had to subscribe to the model rules issued by the federal organisation, and they prescribed that 15 per cent of the surplus must be distributed to a reserve fund. Solidar’s rules in 1908 stipulated that 10 per cent of the surplus should go to the reserve fund, and when the society joined KF two years later, that proportion was adjusted to 15 per cent. There are two main effects of this stipulation in the rules. The first is a reduction of vulnerability and a better control on the part of the board and management, over the capital base. The second is that the member meeting is debarred from interfering with a substantial proportion of the surplus. At least, that is, if the interference would infringe upon the prescribed 15 per cent. The member meeting had the possibility to assign additional resources, on top of the requisite proportion of the surplus, to the reserve fund. Yet, since such contributions were not mandatory, the situation is similar to that in the Newcastle Society. That is to say: contributions to the reserve fund compete with other possible ways of using the surplus. As we would expect, suggestions to add extra money in the reserve

332 fund typically originate in the board.1015 But, members did not always agree with the recommendations of the board. An example helps to clarify this point. It concerns the use of the surplus from the dairy. In 1923, Solidar had bought a dairy – Malmö Mejeri A-B – in which they held 304 of the total 600 shares. The society was also in majority on the board, with four out of seven representatives.1016 In 1925, this dairy showed a surplus of 33,116 kronor and 41 öre, and the board of Malmö Mejeri A-B had decided on a 5 per cent dividend on shares, and resolved that the remaining 28,616 kronor and 41 öre should go to the reserve fund. The suggestion to distribute the surplus in this way had come from the board of Solidar.1017 There were members, however, who thought that this surplus was inordinately high, and should be used for other purposes. At a district meeting in 1925, Mr Johan Sörensson spoke his piece about the surplus of Malmö Mejeri A-B: Had an ordinary company made the profit that the dairy is now making, it would have been strongly criticised, but because it is a co-operative we are not supposed to say anything about it.1018 Sörensson alludes to the criticism that the Co-operative movement used to level against non-co-operative companies which harvested a large profit. In his opinion, it would have been more appropriate to reduce the price of milk. The chief executive Emil Olsson, who was one of the representatives of Solidar on the board of the dairy, answered Sörensson in the following way: Regarding the criticism of the big surplus of the dairy, he wished to remind the member about the fact that only 5 % of it had been suggested as dividend; the rest, or 28,000 kronor, would go to the reserve fund. To place the surplus in the reserve fund can been seen as consistent with the Co-operative Spirit, and the size of the business in any case requires it.1019 In response to Sörensson’s suggestion to reduce the price of milk, Emil Olsson said that the 28,000 kronor which had now been assigned to the reserve fund would not have been sufficient for a price reduction. Note also that Olsson de- fends the decision to place a large sum in the reserve fund by declaring that it was in line with the co-operative spirit. Exactly what Emil Olsson meant by this reference is not easy to say. Our best guess is that, at least in his opinion, sound finances and a solid capital base was part and parcel of this spirit. We will get back to issues related to the balance between pressing prices and consolidation – and, more generally, to the opinions about how the society should prioritise – further on. It will be the topic of section 3.3 below, which deals with the subjects ––––––––– 1015 See Part Three Section 3.3. 1016 In 1923 Solidar bought the share majority of Malmö Mejer A-B, see Förvaltnings- och Revi- sionsberättelser för år 1923, pp. 3-4, in FKFS 1907-1940, p. 3-4. 1017 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1925, p. 6, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1018 Protokoll fört vid Koop Föreningen Solidar, Malmödistrikt möte i Moriska Paviljongen, Sönd den 6 Dec 1925, author’s translation. 1019 Protokoll fört vid Koop Föreningen Solidar, Malmödistrikt möte i Moriska Paviljongen, Sönd den 6 Dec 1925, author’s translation.

333 of dividend on purchases and price policy. For the time being, we shall instead move on to consider some implications of what we have said so far for the relation between the economy of the societies and that of their member households. In Part Two, we devoted sections 2.2 and 2.3 to a description of how the economy of the societies was intertwined with household economy. The focus in that description was on shopping, dividend, and credit. What we have said here about capital formation adds to this picture. In this respect, too, there is a link between household and society. Both societies had a need for share capital, and paying for a certain amount of shares was indeed an entrance requirement. They also had a common problem: the need for capital varies over time. So how do you co- ordinate members’ will to invest with the fluctuating needs of the society, while still encouraging a frugal attitude that will benefit both the members and the society in the long run? In general, the problem for the Newcastle Society was that, since members used their society as a savings institution, they sometimes tended to invest more money in shares than the society could handle. The share account was virtually a banking service, and it was valuable to the members both because of the difficulties of being accepted at a regular bank and because of the generous interest rate. Yet, as it became increasingly hard for the society to invest its money at an interest rate comparable to the one offered to the members, the large amounts invested in the share account were a source of trouble. It could be remedied if the interest rate was lowered, but that decision would have to be passed by the member meeting. It was eventually lowered. In the meantime, the society resorted to temporary measures, such as the automatic transfer system of 1914. Both solutions are characteristic of how the Newcastle Society handled the problem of co- ordinating the financial needs of the society with those of its members. They would mainly, if not exclusively, rely on decisions and alterations in the incentive structure. Solidar had an entirely different strategy, based on education and propaganda. To be sure, an educational element can be discerned in the Newcas- tle Society as well, and economic incentives of course played a part in Solidar’s communication with the members. It is a difference of degree, not of kind, but it is there nevertheless. To give but one example of the practical educative efforts of the Newcastle Society to promote frugality, we can mention the penny savings bank. The decision to start a penny savings bank was taken in 1873, but due to some difficulties with the rules, the introduction of the bank did not take place until 1874.1020 The reason why we have refrained from including this new bank in Chart 7 above is not only a desire not to clutter the chart. It is rather because no major sums were ever deposited in it by the members. Had it been included in the chart, the curve would have been invisible for the better part of its existence. Between 1925 and the beginning of the 1960s, the sums in the account of the penny savings bank rose from £15,000 to little over £30,000. They fell again during the 1960s, but ––––––––– 1020 Minutes Special General Meeting, 5th March 1873. Resolved to establish a Penny Savings Bank but due to some difficulties with the Rules the actual introduction of the Bank was delayed until 1874. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1873.

334 finally ended up at round about £28,000 in 1970.1021 The real importance of the penny savings bank, then, was not economic but pedagogical. It was there to encourage children of members to deposit their small savings and learn the value of saving.1022 There were, of course, other, more traditional educational channels. Those who attended classes where co-operative economy was explained, and who read the co-operative press attentively, could learn quite a lot more about co-operative economic principles. Another source of information – which reached, or at least was easily obtainable to, all members – was the printed reports and statements of accounts. Yet, the Newcastle Society made comparatively limited use of this channel of communication to educate the members about, and propagate for, ways of investing that would benefit both the society and the individual member households. A review of the reports and statements of accounts from 1937 to 1968 proves the point. It is not until the beginning of the 1960s that these documents allude to the fact that it is the share capital which makes up the capital base of the society. In the words of the printed balance sheet: “Capital, that means your Savings, i.e. Shares, Loans and Bank, has assumed the cumulative figure of £3,840,732”. On the other hand, all these annual reports contain information about how the members should get about when they wished to withdraw their dividend.1023 Similarly, we have to wait until the early 1960s before the balance sheet, which now concludes with the words “Everything owned is shared”, contains any instructions as to how to read it.1024 What, then, about the problem of co-ordinating the financial needs of the society with those of the members? Over the entire period, there are two advertisements in the report and statement of account, one in 1958 and one in 1968, urging members to save in their society. The one from 1958, under the heading “Save for a rainy day”, has a more educative tone than the one in 1968, which has the heading “It pays to invest your dividend in your society”. Neither of them explains, however, that the members’ savings is a loan to the society, and that

––––––––– 1021 See Return of Trade Northern Section tables 1925 to 1970, Co-operative Statistics in National Co-operative Archive, Manchester. 1022 At the Quarterly Meeting in April 1921 the chairman stated the following: “ …call upon members for increased loyalty in every way. Mention was specially made of the new Stamp Saving Scheme in the report, and attention was particularly drawn to the matter, members being urged to encourage their children to save up their pence and purchase stamps with a view of making deposits in the small savings bank. It may be mentioned that at the present time well over £200 per week is being invested in the Society by this mean, and there is no reason why this should not be four or five times as much, in view of the very large membership of the Society.” Minute 241st Quarterly General Meeting, 27th April 1921. 1023 Reports and Statement of Accounts 1937 to 1960, in Co-operative Union Returns Northern: Box 32 Reports and Statement of Accounts: 1937-38, 1940-44, 1946-49, 1951-54, 1956-59, 1961-64, 1966-69. 1024 Report and Statement of Accounts for year ending 1st September, 1962, Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd.. Report and Statement of Accounts for year ending 7th September, 1963, Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Ltd.. Both in Co-operative Union Returns Northern: Box 32 Reports and Statement of Accounts: 1937-38, 1940-44, 1946-49, 1951-54, 1956-59, 1961- 64, 1966-69.

335 these savings benefit the economy of the member households as well as the society, i.e. the members as a collective.1025 More importantly, these attempts to co- ordinate financial needs are exceptions rather than the rule, and they are at the margin of what we may properly call education. Economic incentives were the main co-ordination device in the Newcastle Society, especially when there was a need to redirect member savings from shares to loans. Let us compare this situation to that in Solidar. There is a basic commonality between the two societies. They both had to co-ordinate long-term and temporary financial needs with the corresponding needs among the member households. Yet, underneath this commonality there lie differences. Solidar did not have any problems with excess share capital. On the contrary, the society occasionally had difficulties in getting members to deposit money, necessary for expansion, with the society. Thus, it was all the more important for Solidar not only to encourage frugality in general but also to persuade members to invest in the society on the right occasions. As we have already hinted at, education and propaganda played an important role in this connection. For the sake of completeness, we should point out that Solidar, too, had a savings bank (sparkassa). It was introduced in 1922, and as in the Newcastle Soci- ety, the sums deposited in it were rather moderate. It is not quite as insignificant as that in the British society, and it was not designed specifically for children, but it would look puny indeed if compared to the forms of capital represented in Chart 8 above. Since we have omitted it from the chart, we should perhaps say that it increased somewhat from the beginning of the 1960s, only to decrease again before it was finally handed over to KF in 1970.1026 More important in our present context, however, is how the relation between society and member finances was perceived, and how this perception was communicated to the members. In this respect there is a striking difference between Solidar and the Newcastle Society. The reader may recall the description of the education apparatus in Part Three. Apart from this, Solidar also availed itself lib- erally of the possibility to use the report and statement of accounts to communicate the principles of co-operative economy to the members. This conclusion is based on a review of the annual reports from 1908 to the 1980s. It shows that Solidar almost consistently used these reports to educate the members and impart to them what the society was in need of at the moment. The first six annual reports and statements of accounts are only commented balance sheets. From 1914 onwards, however, a directors’ report is published in the last pages of the annual report. The general pattern is that the directors use these concluding remarks to encourage the members to support the society in different ways. Most often, members are asked to demonstrate their loyalty through

––––––––– 1025 Report and Statement of Accounts from March 1st to September 6th 1958. Report and Statement of Accounts for year ending 7th September 1968. Both in Co-operative Union Returns Northern: Box 32 Reports and Statement of Accounts: 1937-38, 1940-44, 1946-49, 1951-54, 1956-59, 1961- 64, 1966-69. 1026 For the development of this account see balance sheets in the annual reports 1921 to 1969. Verk- samhet 1970 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 22.

336 purchases. But there are also, in almost every report, comments on the society’s need for capital. A few examples suffice to shed light on the character of these communications. When the directors comment on the need for capital, it is usually to underline the importance of letting the surplus remain in the society as a resource for the improvement and expansion of the business. But there are also examples of the opposite. When Solidar’s savings bank started in 1922, the annual report explained the connection between members’ savings and the capital of the society in the following way: “Solidar’s sparkassa has started this year. It was not advertised very extensively, for the society was not in need of any more working capital this year…”1027 Despite the virtual absence of publicity, 40,000 kronor was deposited in the bank during the first year.1028 This would seem to indicate that Solidar could have used the savings bank as a means of raising capital to a much greater extent than they actually did. There are further indications of this in the annual report from 1925. In their concluding remarks, the directors thought that the members’ interest in this savings bank would increase as soon as they realised that it is wiser to deposit their savings money in the Co-operative movement than in private banks.1029 Yet, the same report also makes it clear that the savings bank was not the key priority. It continues in an explanatory and educational tone. The directors comment that the amounts of dividend which the members were now receiving were greater than before. Therefore, they explain, it is important that the members are wise enough to let the capital remain in the co-operative business. If the members refrained from withdrawing their money in the share account, the society would remain independent and would not be forced to take up loans from non- co-operative sources.1030 In 1925, the directors preferred that members did not withdraw their dividend from their share accounts, rather than investing their money in the new savings bank. In the 1930s, the long and explanatory concluding remarks from the directors became less frequent in the annual reports. In comparison with the Newcastle Society, however, Solidar still made much use of this channel of communication. Members are always encouraged to support their society in different ways; most often they are urged to purchase more, so as to help the society reach new turnover goals. This practice continues through the Second World War and remains throughout the Post-War period. Yet, there is a change of tone in the directors’ commen- taries from the 1940s and 1950s. They are imbued with elements originating out- ––––––––– 1027 ”Solidars sparkassa har under året startats. Ehuru någon större reklam för densamma ej bedrivits, på grund av att föreningen icke under året varit i behov av något ökat rörelsekapital,…”. Förvalt- nings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1922, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1028 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1922, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1029 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1925, p. 5, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1030 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1925, p. 15, in FKFS 1907-1940.

337 side the local society and the local setting. During the Second World War the directors express there worries about the future of the world, and their hopes that co-operation and co-operative organisations will help build a new and better world when the war is over. But their concluding remarks also contain many more co-operative catchphrases. This is surely a sign that Solidar and its directors were immersed in the wider Co-operative movement. Another novelty in the directors’ reports is that explanatory comments now accompany the balance sheets. The early 1950s is of particular interest to our present concerns. At this point, Solidar needed capital for the modernisation of the stores and for the conversion into self-service, and it was at this juncture – in 1951 – that the automatic transfer system from shares to loans was introduced. Even if the transfer to the loan account was automatic, the members could, of course, still withdraw their money. In fact, it was easier to withdraw loan capital than share capital. The task, then, is to co-ordinate the financial needs of the society with those of the members, and, in this connection, the society also made use of the annual reports as an educational and propaganda device. In the annual report from 1951, the emphasis is on how the members will benefit from the new system, but the reports from the following two years also take pains to explain that the society can use the savings in the loan account to improve and expand the business.1031 The annual report from 1951 also furnishes us with another example. The directors’ concluding remarks is not the only educative element in the annual report. In 1951, for example, it contains a list of “advice to every housewife”, and among the ten recommendations we find the following pieces of advice: 7. Act in accordance with the principle of loyalty of purchase, and do not let it remain idle talk. Housewives who are loyal in their purchases strengthen their society, and thereby the individual households.

/…/

10. The idea of co-operation is common responsibility and a will to co- operate, in your own best interest and for the good of others. This co- operation extends throughout the whole country and out into the world. An active co-operative movement is a peace movement in the true sense of the word.1032 The mixture of hands-on advice for how to shop and why, on the one hand, and, on the other hand, allusions to the movement and what it can achieve, is characteristic of the education and propaganda effort. And educative elements in the annual reports are clearly part of that pattern. We should also point out that the annual reports, and the regular education and propaganda apparatus, do not ex-

––––––––– 1031 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1952, p. 49, in FKFS 1950-1960. Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1953, p. 30, in FKFS 1950-1960. 1032 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1951, p. 59, in FKFS 1950-1960, author’s translation.

338 haust the society’s means of communicating with the members about the relation between the economy of the society and the economy of the member household. The directors also gave talks on this topic, as is illustrated by Gruveman, one of the directors. In 1946, he gave a lecture on the importance of members’ contributions, in the form of share capital and saved dividend, for the expansion of the Co-operative movement.1033 Let us now begin to summarise what we have found in this chapter, and, in doing so, add one more observation. We have argued that the Newcastle Society and Solidar have tended to employ different mechanisms for co-ordinating society finances with the economic participation of the members. The former has mainly relied on economic incentives; the latter has made extensive use of education and propaganda. But there is one strategy which both societies have employed. Both the Newcastle Society and Solidar have resorted to automatic transfers. This is what the Newcastle Society did in 1914, and what Solidar did in 1951. And their systems of instalments, which have been there all along, were in fact yet another form of automatic transfer. The flipside of making transfers automatic, however, is that it is liable to reduce awareness in the members of their own economic participation in the society. This issue was brought up as a cause for concern on the federal level in Sweden. In an inquiry into the question of raising capital for co-operative business, presented at the KF congress in 1953, it was pointed out that members in co-operative societies were becoming less aware of their economic participation. The committee compared the membership in co-operative societies with that of other associations, where yearly fees served as reminders of people’s membership and of their economic participation. They suggested, among other things, that the instalment system for paying up shares could remain, but that it should also be pointed out in the rules that shares could be paid in cash.1034 The prelude to the argument above was a descriptive and explanatory account of the differences in the capital base of the two societies. Capital is distributed over share, loan and reserve capital, but the balance between the different categories of capital differs. Solidar has a much higher proportion of collective capital, i.e. capital stacked away in the reserve fund. The members in Solidar could not influence the amount of money assigned to the reserve fund, apart from agreeing to allocate resources in excess of the stipulated 15 per cent. Nor could they decide what should be done with the money already in the reserve fund. These restrictions distinguish the situation in Solidar from that in the Newcastle Society. In the Newcastle Society, the member meeting retained the right to decide upon the uses of the surplus. The Newcastle Society was financially more vulnerable than Solidar. A decision at a member meeting could thwart the plans of the board and management, if it meant that capital was redirected to a new purpose. Solidar was not as easily shaken, and its board and management had more elbow-room in managing the resources of the society. ––––––––– 1033 Protokoll distrikt 11 Åkarp, 25 mars 1946. 1034 Kapitalfrågan. Ett förslag om familjesparande. Betänkande till 1953 års rikskongress, (1953), Kooperativa Förbundet, pp. 61-62.

339 In the next chapter, we shall examine another aspect of what we have discussed here. We will focus on the debates over how the surplus should be distributed, and how some of the collective resources, i.e. the ones not used for running the retail business, should be used. An inquiry into these debates, and the results they yielded, gives us an opportunity to investigate the contents and discontents of internal co-operative politics. We should keep in mind, though, that the different degrees of freedom accorded to the member meeting set different restrictions for what can be brought up at and be decided by such a meeting. In fact, the account in the next chapter will show even more clearly how the two societies differ in terms of the power balance between the board and the members.

2. The contents and discontents of co- operative politics – how to use co-operative financial resources We have reached a point where we can begin to address another theme from the introductory part. It was pointed out there that struggles about the meaning and direction of co-operation can be seen as a struggle about resources. By now, we know what the resources are and where they come from. They are the resources which the consumer co-operative societies have generated through their business activities, but also in the form of co-operative capital, such as shares and loans. Ultimately, the members are both the source and the owners of these resources. The members’ possibility to directly influence how they are used is circumscribed by rules at any given point in time. The rules and the democratic order curtail their influence in different ways, and to a different extent, in the two societies – and over time – but it has to be decided somewhere how the resources should be used. In this chapter we will study the debates at member meetings, and deliberations at board meetings. And by doing so, we will be examining the contents and discontents of co-operative politics in the Newcastle Society and Solidar. The chapter is divided into two sections. The first section examines the establishment of funds and schemes for the use of members, i.e. direct financial support and loans to members, but also indirect member benefits in the form of educational and political activities. In the second section, we examine whether, and to what extent, co-operative resources were used for activities which are not strictly linked to co-operation. They are both issues that touch upon the distribution and use of the societies’ resources.

340 2.1 Funds and schemes for the use of the member households At the quarterly meeting in October 1912, the members of the Newcastle Society voted for the introduction of a collective life assurance scheme.1035 The following quarterly meeting specified the conditions of the scheme. It was laid down that a sum would be paid on… …the death of a member, or the wife, husband, or children of a member, as any Quarterly or General Meeting may determine. Such sum to be paid in proportion to the annual average purchases for three years prior to death credited to a member in the books of the Society.”1036 This collective assurance scheme – or death benefit, as it was also called – is an illustration of the type of issues we will discuss in the pages to come. It was voted for at the member meeting, and it would take a member meeting to revoke or alter it. Initially, as the quote shows, the member meeting was in fact endowed with the authority to continually determine how much the relatives of departed members would receive. The scheme became more predictable ten years later – no doubt a relief, both for members and for the board who was in charge of the finances – when it was resolved that the sums paid to the surviving relatives of a member household should be fixed, and that the scheme only covered the death of a husband or wife in a member household. At the quarterly meeting in October 1922, it was decided that 4 shillings in the pound be paid on the death of a member’s husband, and 2 shillings in the pound on the death of a member’s wife. The resolution was accompanied by an elucidation where “…it was explained to the meeting that no matter if the husband or wife was the member or if both were members, the rate would always be the same as that above indicated.”1037 This means that if the member had purchased for £20 in average, and if it was the wife of the member who died, the husband would receive 40 shillings, i.e. £2. A few more things should be said about this scheme. The administration of it fell on the secretary, and partly on the board, for the directors had to confirm the sums paid out. In difficult cases, the board had to decide on cases separately to determine whether the surviving relatives should be granted the sum from the death benefit.1038 For an example of how the scheme was promoted, we can turn ––––––––– 1035 Suggested at the 203rd Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1912. Discussed at the following meeting, Minutes 204th Quarterly General Meeting, 24th April 1912. Adoption of the Scheme see Minutes 206th Quarterly General Meeting 30th October 1912. 1036 Quote see Minutes 207th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th January 1913. 1037 Minutes 246th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1922. 1038 A Miss Elisabeth Wilson had written to the board explaining that she had no legal claim to any collective life assurance benefit which would have been paid to the widow of Joseph Addy, late ca- retaker of the Royal Grammar School. However, she had lived with him as his wife for 25 years and they had four children together. She appealed on compassionate grounds that the benefit be paid to her. Enclosed in the letter was a character reference written by two of the masters at the Ro- yal Grammar School. It was resolved that the benefit be paid to Miss Wilson. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1924.

341 to the rules issued in 1946, and take a look at the back page where an advertisement explains the basic conditions for the scheme: Free Death Benefit scheme. For husband and wife of every purchasing member. No Premiums. No Medical Examination. Membership of this Society constitutes your assurance. Every member or husband or wife is assured without payment of individual premium. The amount payable is dependent on your purchases. Loyal Purchasing. High Assurance. Be a Co-operator.1039 As the advertisement makes clear, this was a benefit which accrued to anyone who became a member. No extra costs were involved for the member. Whether or not it made a difference when it was paid out depended upon how faithfully the member household had shopped in the stores of the society. The message is, once again, that loyal purchasers are rewarded, and that there is a connection between the economy of the society and the economy of the member households. The story we have recounted so far appears to be devoid of conflicts. Yet, not all members were satisfied with this assurance scheme. The problem, according to these members, was not that the scheme was not beneficial for the members. It was rather a question of priorities, of alternative costs. In funding this scheme, resources were taken away from other ends. As early as 1915, a worried member asked how much the scheme had cost per £ of sales. The reply was that it cost 3/8 of 1d.1040 But the cost of the collective life assurance successively increased. In 1953, 45,344 claims were paid to the amount of £387,772.1041 This issue was up for discussion at a member meeting two years later. It was then decided that, even though the costs for the scheme were high, it should be continued in the best interest of the members. This resolution was commented on from the floor by Mr Mallabar, a former director. He welcomed the decision on behalf of the members, while at the same time reminding his fellow members that much capital was now needed in order to extend and modernise premises.1042 Malla- bar’s comment is interesting. It is intended as a reminder that choosing to keep the old collective assurance scheme is also a cost, and that it competes with other important causes which must not be forfeited. The decision at the meeting also shows, however, that once a scheme has been introduced, it is difficult to dispense with. The continuation of the story bears out this point. In the early 1960s, the future of the collective life assurance was discussed again. Members who had by then come to take the assurance for granted, and who had been loyal shoppers, were not delighted to hear that the conditions for this benefit would change.1043 Nevertheless, in 1963 the board made an attempt to change the conditions for the payment of the death benefit: ––––––––– 1039 Rules of The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Limited, (1946), back page. 1040 Minutes 215th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1915. 1041 Minutes 370th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1953. 1042 Minutes 375th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1955. 1043 Minutes Quarterly Meeting, 25th October 1961. Member were concerned that collective assurance was going to be discontinued. Chairman confirms that the board is discussing its future.

342 The recommendation from the Board of Management on the Collective Assurance Scheme ‘that the regulations be amended to reduce the rates of benefit to 2/-d. in the case of males and 1/-d. in case of females, and a pro rata reduction be applied on these rates where the funeral arrangements are not carried out by the Society’ was then considered. The Chairman read a statement fully explaining the implications of the Collective Assur- ance Scheme in the days of its commencement in 1914 [sic!] and that of present day pointing out that it did not appeal to the younger people who were more concerned with immediate cash benefits at the point of sale and not with free insurance benefits later in life.1044 A large majority at the half-yearly meeting voted against the recommendations of the board.1045 The conditions were eventually altered, but it would take an additional six years before that happened, and the solution that was reached was a compromise that would make sure that those who had been members for a long time did not lose out on their saved-up benefits. At the special general meeting on 17 February 1969, the board recommended that “…the regulations of the collective life assurance scheme be amended to exclude persons who join the society on or after 18 February, 1969, from participation in any benefits under this scheme.” The Newcastle Society was now involved in discussions that would lead up to the creation of a North Eastern Co-operative Society. This provided a new framework for the discussion of the death benefit scheme as well. The chairman explained… …that the creation of larger societies necessitated fusions between societies either by amalgamation or transfers of engagements and, naturally, this created problems, problems which, if approached in a realistic and practical manner, can be overcome.1046 The collective life assurance scheme was one of the things which needed to be harmonised in order for the amalgamation to go through. In comparison with other societies in the proximity, the Newcastle Society had a very generous scheme and had paid out a considerable amount of money in benefits. The chairman then went on to present a few figures. For the year ending in September 1967, the society had paid out £40,762 in benefits. In the following year, the sum had increased to £46,174, and with a trading surplus of £286,385 in 1968 those payments represented a high proportion of the current surplus. After this explanation, the board’s recommendation to exclude persons who joined the society on or after 18 February 1969, was put to the vote and carried unanimously.1047 Further changes in the scheme were introduced in April the same year. The change involved scaling the benefits from the scheme, so that members who had been members a long time and were old would get the most out of the benefit. To give a background to the successive dismantling of the scheme, the chairman ––––––––– 1044 Minutes Half-Yearly Meeting, 30th October, 1963. 1045 Minutes Half-Yearly Meeting, 30th October, 1963. 1046 Minutes Special General Meeting, 17th February, 1969. 1047 Minutes Special General Meeting, 17th February, 1969.

343 said that ever since the introduction of state grants the Co-operative Union had recommended societies to abolish their collective assurance schemes. The proposal of the board was approved.1048 The scheme was looked over again in Sep- tember 1969, because of the introduction of dividend stamps, but it is not likely that the changes discussed had much effect on the practice, since the society joined the North Eastern Co-operative Society less than a year later.1049 No new collective life assurance scheme was introduced when the new regional society was formed in 1970, and members who were interested in assurance had to turn to the Co-operative Insurance Society in Manchester. In some ways, the fate of the collective life assurance scheme is exemplary. It is a scheme which benefits everyone, even if the grim reality is that elderly people are more likely to come into possession of it. But we are all going to get old, and we are all exposed to the risk that we and our loved ones may succumb to illness or accident. As long as one can expect the scheme to be there for a long time, the scheme is beneficial to all the members, save perhaps for those who live in single-person households. It is no wonder, then, that it was introduced. And it is no wonder that, once it was introduced, it was built into the expectations of the members and difficult to dismantle. At the same time, however, the resources that went into the scheme detracted from the surplus and competed with other ends. If the paid-out sums increased, which they also did, the death benefit scheme was virtually a cuckoo in the nest. This was one of several arguments used by the board to persuade the members to dismantle the scheme in 1969. The first to go was the unborn members, i.e. those who were already members could agree on excluding future members from the scheme. Further changes were introduced a couple of months later, when the scheme was scaled so as to give priority to elderly members and phase out young members for whom the prospects of enjoying the benefit lay in the distant future. Now, if this type of scheme involves an element of politics, they also introduce questions of jurisprudence. Who should be entitled to benefit from it? Sometimes, as in the case of the collective life assurance scheme above, the decision of the member meeting would give detailed instructions in this regard, but borderline cases are nevertheless bound to appear. Such cases were typically referred to the board. We find a neat illustration of this in another connection. Apart from enjoying the collective life assurance, members of the Newcastle So- ciety could also turn to the board and ask for letters of admission to medical service in some of the medical institutions of the city. The introduction of this service will be presented in more detail in Section 2.2 below, since this practice was connected with the establishment of a charitable purpose fund. For the time be-

––––––––– 1048 Minutes Half-Yearly Meeting, 30th April 1969. 1049 At the General Meeting of Members in September 1969 the Chairman explained that the payment of death benefit would have to be adjusted because of the introduction of dividend stamps. A vote was taken as to if the board should be instructed to work out a system, 85 voted for and 61 against, hence the errand was referred back to the board. Minutes General Meeting of Members, 24th Sep- tember 1969.

344 ing, we will use it as an illustration of the jurisprudential role played by the board. At the Thursday evening meeting of the board, in February 1890, a letter from Mr J. Todd was read out loud. He was applying for a letter of admission on behalf of his son. One of the directors, who knew of Mr Todd’s family circumstances, stated that Mr Todd’s son had a household of his own, and that he had been a long time in ill-health. The board resolved that the secretary be instructed to write to Mr Todd and ask whether or not his son is a member of the society. The application would be considered again when Mr Todd had answered this question.1050 At the following meeting, the directors found out that Mr Todd’s son was not a member of the society, but since he had been sick for such a long time, all his household expenses had been met by his father. Having received this information the board decided that the son would be granted a letter of admission.1051 This ruling on the part of the directors is in line with what we have had occasion to note elsewhere: the relevant unit for the co-operative society is neither the individual nor the family; it is the member household. The son was granted admission, because his father, who was a member and presumably bought most of his goods in the stores of the Newcastle Society, paid his household expenses. Let us now shift our attention to Solidar for a while. Members of Solidar never asked for a life assurance scheme, and they had very limited possibilities to do so. And the board never suggested one, probably because this service was catered for in other parts of the co-operative movement. In the annual reports from the 1920s onwards, we thus find advertisements informing Solidar’s members that they could take up an insurance in the national co-operative insurance society called Folket & Samarbetet – which roughly translates as “the people and co-operation”. The first advertisement appeared in 1922: “THE FINANCIAL STRENGTH OF THE CO-OPERATIVE MOVEMENT grows as members join the co-operative insurance companies”.1052 One year later a new advertisement was inserted, stating that “A TRUE CO-OPERATOR protects family by taking out a life insurance in THE PEOPLE…”.1053 A further advertisement, appearing in 1924, carefully clarified the connection between the capital needs of the Co- operative movement and the co-operative members’ need for insurances.1054 Yet, even though Solidar did not offer its members any life assurance scheme, they had other funds and schemes for the benefit of the members. One of them was a fund called Understödsfonden (The Relief Fund), introduced in 1926. In ––––––––– 1050 “Read Communication from Mr J. Todd applying for a letter of admission to the use of his son. Mr Weightman [Director] stated that Mr Todd’s son was a householder [had a household of his own], and that he knew he had been a long time in ill-health. Resolved that the Secretary be instructed to write asking Mr Todd to say whether or not his son is a member of the Society and that the application be again considered when this information has been given.” Minutes of Directors’ Meeting, 4th February 1890. 1051 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 11th February 1890. 1052 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1922, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940, author’s translation. 1053 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1923, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940, author’s translation. 1054 See Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1922, p. 4, in FKFS 1907-1940.

345 contrast to the Newcastle Society, the introduction of this fund never had to be passed by the member meeting. The decision was taken by the board. The member meeting – now a concern for elected representatives rather than for the entire membership – was informed. We find no comments about the fund at the district meetings that year: the fund merely turns up in the balance sheet in the annual report.1055 The purpose of the relief fund was to assist members who, without any fault of their own, had fallen into difficulties. Members in need could borrow as much money as they had in their share account from the society. They were to repay the loan when they had come out of their difficulties, but in cases where members could not pay back the sum they had borrowed, money to cover the debts was taken from the relief fund.1056 We can see that members availed themselves of this kind of loan during periods of widespread unemployment, e.g. in the early 1930s.1057 But the low degree of member involvement in the creation of this fund had adverse effects on their awareness of how the scheme worked, and was the cause of some confusion. This, too, is evident in the documents from the 1930s. In 1933, many members had apparently taken the opportunity to borrow money from Solidar with their share capital as security. As a consequence, there appeared to be an outflow of capital, and since the details of the relief fund were not entirely clear to the majority of members, rumours began to circulate that the society was going downhill. At one of the district meetings Herman Ericsson, a director, tried to correct the misconception that members were taking out their share capital and leaving the society. Members at the meeting had heard all sorts of rumours, that Solidar’s economy was poor, and that the society was dismiss- ing its employees. Another director stepped in to explain the discharged employees: every year the society hired people temporarily to count the many receipts for calculating the dividend on purchase. No employees had in fact been discharged. Eriksson continued by saying that the rumour that members were taking out their share capital was probably sparked off by the fact that members borrowed money from the society. He urged the members to look at the balance sheet, where they would see that the society had a net surplus of nearly 4 million kronor.1058 It is difficult to say how well known the relief fund was among the membership. There is no information about it in advertisements in the annual reports. In fact, the only indication of its existence is that it has an entry in the balance sheet. This would suggest that, contrary to the collective assurance scheme in the Newcastle Society, the relief fund kept a low profile and was not used as a means of recruiting new members. But there are examples where the fund has been up for discussion among the members. In 1937, for example, there was a suggestion that larger sums of the surplus should be applied to the relief fund.1059 ––––––––– 1055 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1926, p. 7, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1056 Protokoll distriktsmöte Malmödistriktet 31/3 1927. 1057 Protokoll fört vid Solidars III distriktsmöte 28/3 1933. 1058 Protokoll distrikt 3, 28/3 1933. 1059 Protokoll distrikt 4, 24/3 1937.

346 And in the 1940s there were members who thought that it was not Solidar’s responsibility to help unemployed members. They thought that support for unemployed workers was something that the state should guarantee through social legislation (sociallagstiftningen).1060 The fund eventually seems to have been forgotten. At an employee’s district meeting in 1953 Martin Andersson, a member, had noted the sum for the reserve fund in the balance sheet, which had now accumulated to 130,000 kronor. He asked what kind of fund this was, and received an explanation from members of the board.1061 Nothing was taken from or added to the fund in the following three years, and, by 1956, the entry was removed from the balance sheet. A comment to the balance sheet explains that the money from the relief fund had been transferred to the reserve fund.1062 Another fund for the benefit of the member households was the Vacation Fund for Housewives (Husmödrarnas semesterfond). It was introduced in 1933, also on the initiative of the board. It was a fund for the benefit of housewives – who either were members or the wives of members – to provide them with an opportunity to go on a holiday and get a well deserved rest. The first year 10,000 kronor was applied from the surplus, and it was resolved that a 5 per cent interest should be added each year.1063 Moreover, for each of the years 1934, 1935, 1937, and 1938, the annual meeting approved the board’s recommendation to assign 10,000 kronor to the vacation fund. Just as in the case of the relief fund, sums were allocated to the housewives’ vacation fund throughout the 1930s and 1940s. How the resources allocated to the fund developed over time is described in Appendix 3, where the corresponding figures for the relief fund are also listed. Determining exactly how many housewives used this opportunity to go away on a holiday would require a more extensive study of the minutes from board meetings. Let us focus instead on the administration of the scheme and how it relates to the relative authority of the board versus that of the member meeting. What we find is that the board retained a tight control over the housewives’ vacation scheme. In the annual report from 1933, the conditions for the administration of the scheme are presented in the following terms: The board will be given considerable freedom in the distribution of the grant. The grant could thus be awarded for a stay at a vacation home, or be a contribution to vacation trips for housewives of small means, or be used to facilitate for holiday-making housewives to partake in courses. In other words, the board shall, within the bounds set by the purpose of offering vacation and recreation to housewives who are in need thereof, have the right to make an unbiased examination of each case.1064

––––––––– 1060 Protokoll distrikt 5, 23/3 1943. 1061 Protokoll personaldistrikt 31/3 1953. 1062 See Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1953, p. 20. Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättel- ser för år 1956, p. 25. Both annual reports in FKFS 1950-1960. 1063 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1933, p. 29, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1064 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1933, p. 29, in FKFS 1907-1940, author’s translation.

347 Entries in the minutes from board meetings show that the board carefully examined the applications for grants. In June 1935, for example, Albert Nilsson applied for a grant for his wife, since she needed a rest. The board approved of a grant of 25 kronor, but made it clear that they were going to examine if she really needed this rest. Exactly how they were going to examine this is, however, not explained.1065 Twenty-five kronor appears, by the way, to have been the standard sum awarded to the applicants. In 1955, it was raised to 40 kronor.1066 But at this point, the vacation fund only had one more year to go. It met with the same des- tiny as the relief fund: in 1956, the sums in the fund were transferred to the reserve fund.1067 To summarise what we have said so far about funds and schemes in Solidar, we must conclude that the board’s role as initiator and decision-maker gave it plenty of room to manoeuvre. The annual society could decide to assign extra resources to the funds, at least within its limited mandate. We shall get back to this later on. But compared to the Newcastle Society the most striking feature of Solidar’s funds and schemes for the benefit of the member households is no doubt that the board had considerable control. This comes out even more clearly in the next example from the Newcastle Society, which relates the story of how the Gilsland convalescent home was purchased. In June 1901, the board of the Newcastle Society responded to a circular from the Co-operative Union about the purchase of a convalescent home. The board answered that they found the suggestion to buy Gilsland Spa most recommend- able.1068 Yet, it was not up to the board to decide if the society should invest in this convalescent home. They communicated this to the Co-operative Union, explaining that they could not attend a conference on the matter until they had had the opportunity to present the Gilsland scheme to the members.1069 The board thus had to await the next quarterly meeting, which was due in July. When the scheme was presented there, the members resolved that the society take 900 shares, each worth £1, to buy the proposed co-operative convalescent home.1070 Two months later, the board received an application form for shares in the Co- operative Convalescent Home at Gilsland. But the board was still in a bind. Be- fore signing the form, they deleted a condition that additional shares were to be taken up annually in proportion to the society’s membership. This was a condition which the member meeting had not agreed upon.1071 In other words, the member meeting had refused to introduce an automatic distribution mechanism which would have deprived it of some control over the society’s resources. Subscriptions to the Gilsland Convalescent Home, and to ––––––––– 1065 Protokoll styrelsemöte, 7/6 1935. 1066 Protokoll distrikt St Petri, 29/3 1955. 1067 Verksamhetsberättelser för år 1956, p. 25, in FKFS 1950-1960, p. 25. 1068 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 18th June 1901. 1069 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 9th July 1901. A request that the society’s name be placed on the application for the Registrar’s Certificate of the Rules was declined. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 30th July 1901. 1070 Minutes 161st Quarterly General Meeting, 31st July 1901. 1071 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 3rd September 1901.

348 other convalescent homes, received as much money as the member meetings would grant from the surplus. In 1921, for example, the sum donated to Gilsland was 50 guineas, i.e. £52 and 10 shillings, while the Whitley Convalescent Home received £18 and 18 shillings.1072 But the sums allotted to the convalescent home depended on how much the member meeting was prepared to give. In 1954, it was reported that 586 members had so far been granted stays at the Gilsland Convalescent Home since the time it had first started to receive guests. By now, the supply of funding had become more regular. The Newcastle Society paid an annual subscription of six pence per member.1073 The sum was raised to 1 shilling per member and annum in January 1956, but only for a two-year period to start with.1074 What is important in this context, however, is that the member meeting had agreed to a new method of resource assignment. Instead of having the meeting agree to a lump sum every year, they now decided on a rate. The financial investments in the convalescent home continued throughout the 1960s and in 1970, with the North East Co-operative Society as the principal. Today Gilsland is used as a co-operative hotel and for co-operative social and educational gatherings.1075 Now one last example from the Newcastle Society remains to be recounted. If the examples above have touched upon some of the main issues involved in the deliberations over funds and schemes, we must also take the time to follow a scheme in more detail. To this end, we have chosen to describe a mortgage scheme which the Newcastle Society introduced in 1889. This is a scheme which would cause some controversy at member meetings to come, and can thus elucidate other facets of internal co-operative politics. Towards the end of the 1880s, the Newcastle Society apparently had more capital in the share account than they could use or invest in a profitable way. It is the same type of problem that we have encountered above, in our discussion of the balance between share capital, loan capital, and the reserve fund. In 1889, the board’s worries over unemployed capital induced the directors to propose a special meeting to consider possible remedies. So at the quarterly meeting in July 1889, the chairman announced that a special meeting would be called in two months’ time. Three questions would be on the agenda. The first was to consider the desirability of reducing the maximum number of shares which entitle the owner to receive interest, the second to reduce the rate of interest paid on share capital, and the third was to discuss the possible introduction of a mortgage

––––––––– 1072 Minutes 239th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1921. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1921. 1073 Minutes 371st Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1954. 1074 Minutes 379th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th January 1956. 1075 The last decision on contributions to Gilsland Convalescent Home from the Newcastle Society was made in September 1969. It was then decided that “…the Society contributes to the Financial Assistance Scheme, Gilsland Convalescent Home Limited on the basis of £3,000 per annum for a period of two years. Discussions took place on the effect of this Resolution upon the number of places for Newcastle Society Members at Gilsland Home. Minutes General Meeting, 24th Septem- ber 1969. For the development of Gilsland after 1970 see Lamb, (2001).

349 scheme.1076 These were different solutions to the same problem. The first two suggestions would stop the inflow of share capital or make share capital less costly for the society, and the third would be one way of getting unemployed capital into circulation. At the special general meeting in September, the board proposed that “…no members be submitted to receive interest upon share capital he may hold in the Society in excess of £100”. The proposal was seconded and put to the vote: 55 members voted for the resolution, but 123 voted against, and the resolution was lost. The second proposal, to reduce the rate of interest from 5 to 4.5 per cent, was also lost. The outcome of these votes is not surprising if we consider that the members at the meeting regarded their society as a saving institution. They would not have their savings opportunities withdrawn. The next item on the agenda was the mortgage scheme, but the discussions had dragged out, and it was decided to postpone it to the following quarterly meeting, in October.1077 Yet, on that occasion much of the time was used to discuss a decrease in the rate of gross profit in the grocery department, and the board tried to explain the situation in a supplementary report. The consideration of the mortgage scheme was postponed again, and was to be dealt with at a special meeting in November.1078 In November, the board could finally present its suggestion for a mortgage scheme. There was an – unsuccessful – attempt to raise the amount that members applying for advances on property had to pay themselves. But in general, the proposed conditions were accepted, and it was decided that, to begin with, the total amount to be advanced to members upon the security of freehold property should not exceed £10,000.1079 The approved scheme involved the following conditions: Advances. 2. – The amount which the Directors may agree to advance shall be based upon the surveyors’ valuation of the property, and the Member applying for such must be prepared to find at least £5 for every £95 advanced by the Society. No advance shall exceed £450, and no Member shall be entitled to apply for an advance who has an existing liability to the Society. No advance will be made unless the title to the property is approved by the Directors.

Repayments. 3. – The amount borrowed may be repaid each calendar month by instalments of 8s. 4d. per £100 of the amount loaned, together with interest at the rate of 5 per cent. per annum upon the balance owing at the date of the previous payment, and a charge of 3d. per £100 quarterly to defray the working expenses of the department. Members may at any time increase the amount of their repayments and the balance owing of the sums advanced may be paid off at any time. ––––––––– 1076 Minutes 113th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st July 1889. 1077 Minutes Special General Meeting, 25th September 1889. 1078 It was not a great dip in sales figures in general that had prompted the discussion at the October meeting but as usual there were some observant members who had studied the accounts and noted the losses in the Grocery Department. Minutes 114th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th October 1889. 1079 Minutes Special General Meeting, 13th November 1889.

350 Funds. 9. – The total amount to be advanced to members, upon the security of freehold property, shall be determined from time to time by the quarterly meeting of the Society, and the Directors shall cause an account to be prepared and submitted with each Quarterly Balance Sheet, showing the position of the department.1080 The scheme was indeed coveted by those members who were planning to buy a house. It would require further inquiries to determine just how popular it was, and how much money members borrowed through the scheme.1081 Yet, whenever I have turned to minutes from board meetings to check up on a question, I have almost always found applications for mortgages, most of which were granted. A curious fact that emerges from these rather unsystematic inquiries is that it was often married women – and/or widows, as the case may be, for the minutes only identify them as “Mrs” – who applied for advances of money on the security of property. This, however, is beyond our present concerns. Instead, we must point out a difference between this scheme and the ones we have described so far in the Newcastle Society. The collective assurance scheme, the letters of admission to medical service, and the convalescent home are all examples of schemes catering to dire needs brought on by accident and misfortune. None of us are exempt from those risks. The mortgage scheme, on the other hand, is specifically directed to a segment of the membership – that segment, namely, which has the intention and the resources to purchase a house. Despite, or perhaps because of, the popularity of the mortgage scheme among the potential applicants, some members were critical, either of the introduction of the scheme or of the conditions for it. In 1915, at the quarterly meeting in Janu- ary, one member wished to know how much share capital those who had been granted advances upon property held in the society. The chairman replied that, all in all, they held £876 in share capital.1082 This question recapitulates a theme which we have touched upon in Section 2.2 in Part Two. Members wanted to find out about how the board decided who should be able to borrow money on the security of real property.1083 It also reflects the concern for the finances of the society, and we can perhaps sense a certain touch of dissatisfaction with a scheme which all members could not benefit from. ––––––––– 1080 See Newcastle-upon-Tyne Co-operative Society Proposed Conditions for the Advancing of Money to Members on the Security of Real Property, Appendix 16 in Jim Lambs Chronological Register 1889. 1081 As Paragraph 9 in the Conditions for the Advancing of Money to Members on the Security of Real Property reveals, there should be figures, in the balance sheets of the society, on how much money was used for the scheme. Some of these balance sheets can be found in the archive of Birmingham Library, others in the North Eastern and Cumbria Co-operative Society’s archive and in the Minute Books for the minutes from Directors’ Meetings in the Tyne and Wear Archive. I have used some information from these balance sheets. In general, however, I have used the information about the finances of the society which can be found in the Co-operative Statistics of the Co-operative Union. In these statistics, I have found entries on property, but it has been difficult to determine whether these sums include all buildings that the Society owned, and whether they include the money advanced to members against the security on real property. 1082 Minutes 215th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1915. 1083 Minutes 232nd Quarterly General Meeting, 30th April 1919.

351 The mortgage scheme was suspended during the First World War.1084 But as soon as the war was over, members could again apply for mortgages, and some were eager for the society to expand its activities in the housing sector. In Janu- ary 1923, there was a suggestion that the society should go ahead with a scheme for building houses for members. The chairman announced, however, that the board did not wish to go on with this scheme, since it did not follow the rules governing the society’s mortgage scheme. One member, Mr Chapman, who was speaking for the scheme, proposed that the suggestion should be put to the vote. The outcome was that 205 voted for the scheme and 192 against it. What happened next was a somewhat surprising turn of events. The chairman, Mr Lax, declared that, since there was only a bare majority of 13 votes, he was going to decide that the scheme should not be implemented.1085 According to the rules, the chairman did have the right to decide in an even election. Yet, this casting vote only applied if the vote had ended up as a dead heat, and in this case a majority voted for the scheme. There was no particular protest against the action of the chairman at the following meeting. But another member, Mr Pearson, moved that the housing scheme be discussed again, and Chapman explained it anew. This time, there was a clear majority in favour of the scheme so the chairman and the board had to accept the result.1086 At least 36 houses were built by the society in the following years, but there were plans for upwards of 400 houses.1087 All the while the mortgage scheme remained. The amount that members could borrow was increased in 1944 from £600 to £800, and three years later the sum was £1,000. In 1951, when the sum was raised to £2,000, at least some members found it necessary to make the procedures of the mortgage scheme more profes- sional. Until then it had been the directors who surveyed the properties. At the quarterly meeting in October 1951, Mr Reynolds proposed that qualified surveyors be used instead “…to safeguard the Society and also to safeguard members purchasing property without any expert knowledge”. In the discussion that followed, the chairman announced that the board was against the resolution, and Mr Armstrong, a director, spoke against it from the platform. When the resolution ––––––––– 1084 Suspension of private mortgages was agreed on until the end of the War. See Jim Lambs Chrono- logical Register 1915. 1085 Minutes 247th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1923. 1086 Minutes 248th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th April 1923. 1087 Resolved to enter into the building of houses for sale to members and not for rentation by the So- ciety. Initial House Building Scheme – Biddlestone Road, 12 houses were commenced and completed early in 1924. Start made on second scheme – 40 sites – Milvain Estate.Land purchased for the building of bungalows at Wickham View, West Benwell. Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1923. Resolved to purchase land at Cowgate for building and welfare scheme (e.g. An Employees Sports Ground, Branch premises and housing). The area covered some 41 acres – price £19,426. It was reported to the members meeting that the land would accommodate some 300 houses. (NB. 20 acres was subsequently sold to the Newcastle Corporation (1930). Jim Lamb’s Chronological Reg- ister 1925. “…it was hoped to help members to obtain their own dwellings. The Society had purchased about 42 acres of land at Cowgate and this would accommodate some 300 houses.” Minutes 261st Quarterly General Meeting, 28th July 1926. Approval given by the City Authorities for 24 houses to be built at Cowgate. Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1927.

352 was put to the vote it was nevertheless carried by a large majority, and the secretary was instructed to make the necessary alterations in the mortgage scheme.1088 Yet another change in the mortgage regulations was voted for at the same meeting: Mr Graham then moved ‘that the amount advanced may be repaid over a period extending from 20 to 30 years subject to the recommendation of the surveyor’. He stated that present day conditions in many cases made it almost physically impossible to obtain a house under £1,000 and the repayments on a 20 year basis on £1,000 to £2,000 was too much of a burden to the majority of members today and if the repayments were spread over 20 to 30 years according to the surveyors’ recommendation, the monthly amounts would be accordingly reduced.1089 The chairman declared that the board was against this resolution as well, but to no avail. The resolution was seconded, voted upon, and carried by a large majority. At the following meeting, the chairman re-affirmed the board’s attitude with regard to the amendments made in the mortgage regulations, claiming that the decisions at the last quarterly meeting had “tied the board’s hands”, and that the only way to get back to status quo was by notice of a motion. No such motion was proposed at the meeting.1090 The mortgage issue had pretty much crystallised into a struggle between the board and the member meeting. And so far the board had been on the losing side. Yet, things changed in the course of the 1950s. The administration of the mortgage scheme was successively handed over to professionals, but the decision whether a request should be granted or not was still taken by the board.1091 Yet, the mortgage scheme had also become economically burdensome for the society, and the board tried new strategies to get the results it wanted. In 1955, for example, the board decided that the interest rate on mortgages should be increased.1092 The member meeting was simply presented with their decision. What made this move possible was a rule change in 1952, which precluded the member meeting from making amendments to financial recommendations at ordinary quarterly meetings. If the member meeting wished to make a counter-proposition, it would have to call a special meeting. There was indeed a comment on the increased interest rate at a quarterly meeting in 1956, but no special meeting was summoned, and the board’s decision was thus in force.1093 Two years later, at the quarterly

––––––––– 1088 Minutes 362nd Quarterly General Meeting, 31st October 1951. 1089 Minutes 362nd Quarterly General Meeting, 31st October 1951. 1090 Minutes 363rd Quarterly General Meeting, 30th January 1952. 1091 The board agreed: “That in future, mortgage applications could be sent directly to the surveyor for his report, after which the Board would confirm or otherwise”. It was left to the secretary to decide in doubtful cases, whether the application should be submitted to the board in the first place. Minutes Directors’ Meeting 18th July 1952. 1092 “Interest rates on mortgages increased (in preference to suspending the granting of mortgages) together with a ceiling of 75% of the amount requested.” Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1955. 1093 Minutes 380th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th April 1956.

353 meeting in July 1957, the chairman announced that mortgage advances had been suspended. His explanation reveals the priorities of the board: …the Chairman stated that Advances had risen £1/2m. in the last five years while the intake of Capital had diminished. The Society’s primary purpose was to finance trading operations and also retain and adequate measure of liquidity, sufficient to meet members’ withdrawals. We were impairing our Capital Structure by tying up too much money in long term investments and it was necessary to preserve a balanced development of Capital. The Auditor had drawn attention to this matter in recent reports. [Italics added] 1094 This view of the primary purpose of the society may not have been shared by all members. To be sure, the formulation was to be found in the objects of the society, but so was the mortgage scheme. In any case, the board’s decision was frowned upon. Mr Mallabar pointed out from the body of the hall that it was not up to the board to decide if the scheme should be suspended. Such decisions rested with the members, and should be taken by the member meeting. The board was obviously prepared for this objection. Present at the meeting was a solicitor, Mr Robinson, who assured the members that the action taken by the board was legally correct. The chairman declared that he would accept an amendment to delete the paragraph. Mr West and Mr Muir took up on his invitation. On being put to the vote, however, their amendment was defeated. Reinforced by the reassurances from legal expertise, the board had managed to persuade the members.1095 The suspension of mortgage advances continued for two years, and at the July quarterly meeting in 1959, the chairman announced that the board had taken the decision to discontinue the mortgage scheme. The explanation given was that the capital expenditure had trebled, and members’ investments in the society had not developed accordingly. The chairman also went on to point out that it was less than 1 per cent of the members who benefited from mortgage advances – an argument which was likely to resonate among the membership. He also noted that other co-operative alternatives were now in operation. The Co-operative Perma- nent Building Society, with which the society had cordial relations, had been engaged the last two years, and their service had been excellent.1096 What we have here, then, is a scheme which was originally introduced in response to a situation where the society had excess share capital which was liable to remain unemployed. While the board failed to convince the members to restrict or impair their savings opportunities – which would have been one remedy to the problem of excess share capital – the majority of the members were willing to agree on a new way of using the collective capital. The few critical voices who questioned the financial stability or equity of the scheme were insufficient to prevent its introduction. So instead of being deprived of existing financial services provided by the society, the members had gained a new one. But what was ––––––––– 1094 Minutes 385th Quarterly General Meeting 31st July 1957. 1095 Minutes 385th Quarterly General Meeting 31st July 1957. 1096 Minutes 393rd Quarterly General Meeting 29th July 1959.

354 at first a solution to a financial problem later developed into a burden. This at least was the perception of the board. We will get back to these developments in our concluding remarks. Yet, before we go on to summarise our findings we should, for the sake of completeness, say a few words about corresponding schemes in Solidar. In one sense, our comments in this area could be very brief. Solidar never had the equivalent of the Newcastle Society’s mortgage scheme. Nor did the members demand that their society should introduce such a scheme or build houses for members. On the contrary, as we shall see more of in Chapter 3 below, many members took a sceptical attitude even when the society purchased property for stores. Solidar nevertheless bought, and sometimes even built, the houses where the stores were established. By doing so, they inadvertently ended up as land- lords when there were flats for rent in the house. Sometimes Solidar would take part in forming co-operative housing associations in these houses, and send delegates from the board to attend their member meetings, but the society’s involvement in housing was of an entirely different character than in the Newcastle So- ciety.1097 We know, however, that Solidar did in fact give loans. We have already seen it in the case of the relief fund, and it turns out that these were not the only loans Solidar gave. Loans were also granted to employees and members who wanted to start businesses – provided that the business did not compete with Solidar in any way – or build houses.1098 This was the board’s initiative. The applications were sent to the board, and the board single-handedly worked out the conditions for this practice. There is no mention of the possibility to borrow money from the society in the annual reports, and there is no decision from a member meeting approving of it. In fact, these loans can be characterised as a stealth scheme, for, in contrast to the relief fund, these loans did not even have a separate entry in the balance sheet. To find out about them we have to turn to the board minutes. Yet, at least a portion of the membership obviously knew about it. Minutes from a board meeting in January 1948 reveal that the loans to employees had become standardised. Employees could loan sums with their savings account as security. At this particular meeting, 19 employees were granted loans, ranging between 50 and 3,000 kronor. Eight of them were men, and eleven were women. Four of the women had already ended their employment in Solidar.1099 The situation is similar when we visit a board meeting by the end of 1951. At this meeting, the board ––––––––– 1097 Protokoll styrelsemöte 11/4 1927. 1098 A member living in Klagshamn asked to board for a loan of 300 kr. He needed these money to get enough start up capital to start a bike repair shop. He was granted the loan. Protokoll styrel- semöte 27/2 1936. In 1939 the chief accountant was granted a loan and six years later he was granted yet another loan to finance an extension of his house. Protokoll styrelsemöte 16/5 1939 and Protokoll styrelsemöte 11/6 1945. Mr Strandberg a fisher and husband of an employee in one of Solidar’s fish shops, asked for and was granted such a loan. Protokoll styrelsemöte 11/6 1945. A store manager that had given his notice asked for a loan to start up a music and paper store in Lim- hamn. It was decided that he be granted half of the amount he had applied for that was nearly as much as he had standing to his saving account in the Society. Protokoll styrelsemöte 23/9 1946. 1099 Protokoll styrelsemöte 29/1 1948.

355 sums up how many loans had been granted to employees from 19 September to 29 December 1951. Seventy employees had been granted loans, varying in size between 50 and 2,000 kronor.1100 In conclusion, Solidar’s loans were very different from the mortgage scheme of the Newcastle Society. It can be argued that this contrastive comparison captures some of the global differences between the two societies as far as the funds and schemes for the benefit of the member households are concerned. At least, that is, if we focus on the respective roles of the board and the member meeting. Solidar’s board introduced and withdrew funds and schemes unilaterally, and retained a high degree of control over them; the board of the Newcastle Society, on the other hand, was dependent on the member meeting both for the introduction and the continued administration of the schemes. Other distinguishing features follow from this overarching difference. When a scheme had become entrenched in the Newcastle Society, it was difficult to dismantle. This is illustrated by the fates of the collective life assurance scheme and the mortgage scheme. They both became increasingly costly, appropriating an increasing amount of money and crowding out other possible uses of the society’s resources. It nevertheless took a long time, and some effort from the board, to dismantle them. In this connection, our lengthy account of the mortgage scheme also portrays, in a single case history, the gradual displacement of authority from the member meeting to the board. But it also shows the difference, which was there all along, between the Newcastle Society and Solidar. In order to fully bring out the significance of this comparison, and prepare the way for arguments in chapters to come, we are forced to make an abstraction and conceptualise our findings a little more rigorously. The funds and schemes we have described here are long-term commitments. They form slots into which the member meeting can assign more resources. Now, one difference between the two societies, which we have already noted, is that members had different degrees of freedom in disposing of their societies’ capital. How additional resources end up in the slots differs between Solidar and the Newcastle Society, as does the amounts of money they could transfer to these ends. This must be distinguished, however, from the control which the member meeting had over the creation and shaping of the slots themselves. It is this difference which we have traced throughout this section. Our conceptualisation allows us to pose further questions. To what extent, for example, is the assignment of resources to different slots determined, in terms of minimum or maximum levels, by some automatic mechanism, e.g. the rules of the society? There are differences between the two societies in this respect, too, as our account of the reserve fund has shown. The distinction between the power to create and shape slots, on the one hand, and the power to assign resources within or outside of pre-established slots, on the other hand, also comes in handy as an interpretive framework in chapters to come. The next section cuts across the distinction, and contains elements of both. It is devoted to a description of whether, and to what extent, the two societies allocated resources to educational and political ends. ––––––––– 1100 Protokoll styrelsemöte 29/12 1951.

356 2.1.1 Financing co-operative education and politics The funds and schemes described above all have in common that they deal with benefits for individual member households. This, however, was not the only type of resource assignment in the two societies. The remainder of this section will be devoted to another portion of this area, namely the resources that went into education and politics. In doing so, we also reacquaint ourselves with a theme from Part Three, where, in Chapter 5, we described the development of co-operative forums related to the Newcastle Society and Solidar. One conclusion from that chapter was that the relation between society and co-operative forums differed between the two. In Solidar, all co-operative forums – save for one example, the co-operative women’s guild – with which the society was involved were started by, or with help from, the society’s propaganda committee. Not so in the New- castle Society. In our British case, co-operative forums were more loosely connected to, but nevertheless financially supported by, the society. Now, let us begin with a discussion of the resources allotted to education. My argument is that education and forums are linked, but that the nature of this link differs between the two societies. I would also argue that this difference has to do with how the relation between society and forums is construed. Consider first the case of Solidar. In the vocabulary of our newly invented concepts, we can say that a slot for education was established as early as 1908, and that the society made use of an automatic mechanism for allocating resources to this end. The rules from this year contained a clause that 2.5 per cent of the surplus should go to education. The administration of this resource was managed by the propaganda committee, and it was this committee which initiated, supported, and controlled the co-operative forums in Malmö. This connection links co-operative forums directly to the conditions for raising educational funds in Solidar. In Newcastle, on the other hand, a fixed slot for education was established only in 1905, and it was preceded by drawn-out debates. Moreover, the co-operative forums in Newcastle were not initiated by the society. But external as these forums were, they eventually competed over whatever resources had been assigned to education. With these remarks properly spelled out, we can continue to portray the allocation of resources to education in Solidar. We have already mentioned that there was, from the very beginning, a steady supply to the educational fund, the size of which was determined by the size of the surplus. Money is not the only relevant resource. Through its affiliation with KF, the society also had access to a main supplier of educational material. KF’s secretariat and education department had developed literature and course material which could be, and was, utilised by the study circles. Solidar thus had a smorgasbord of prefabricated courses to offer its members. With these resources readily at the society’s disposal, there was still the question what should be done with them, how they should be distributed among different ends, and who should decide on the matter. To begin with the last issue, it was the members in the propaganda committee who discussed different possible uses and arranged the activities decided upon. With the introduction of local propaganda committees at the beginning of the 1930s, more members were involved in the discussions about how the resources should be used. The members who visited the district meetings still had to resort to indirect channels to influ-

357 ence the supply of courses and other educational activities: they could turn to their representatives on the member council, on the propaganda committee, or in its local branches. For those members who were also engaged in the co-operative forums, however, there were other, and slightly more direct, channels. They could turn directly to the board and request resources for educational purposes. We have already seen an example of this in our account in the previous part of the co-operative forums . In 1937, the guilds in Malmö and Lomma sent a request that Solidar should sponsor the paper “Vi Vill”. Their request was granted.1101 The co-operative forums thus had access to other channels than members in general. As we shall see shortly, however, the decision to organise local propaganda committees would affect the demand structure for educational resources. We will turn next to the question what activities the resources were used to finance. From the end of the 1920s to the middle of the 1950s, the annual reports contained a section devoted to a report from the propaganda committee. It was very informative, and gave the members a good sense of what the society was up to. If the courses listed in the propaganda committee’s report were intended for the members, the committee also built up an organisation for spreading the word about co-operation outside the existing membership. This is evident from a comment in the report from 1937, where it is pointed out that the committee had sent out many hundred letters to other organisations offering them co-operative lectures and film shows. These events were offered free of charge. The receiving organisation only had to pay the rent for the room where the lecture or film show would take place, and it is likely that they used their own halls if they had any. In the report, the committee points out to the members that this was an inexpensive way of spreading knowledge about co-operation.1102 There is no indication that the members were dissatisfied with the society using the education fund to promote co-operation to potential members. The issue that spawned controversy was rather the differential accessibility of those courses which were offered to the members. When the educational and propaganda apparatus was built up, the centre of gravity was in the city of Malmö. The intention behind the local propaganda committees was in fact to compensate the members who lived outside the city. Yet, the fact that members could read about all the courses and activities offered by the society in the annual report, in conjunction with the introduction of a regionally based committee system, was likely to spark off more demanding requests for courses from those districts which were located outside the city centre. To be sure, Solidar tried to cater to their needs as well. One way of doing this was through co-operating with ABF. The co-operation with ABF started in the early 1920s, and it continued throughout the entire period of our inquiry. But not even the joint ventures with ABF could completely erase the difference between different districts. ABF, too, was unable to offer courses in all different districts within Solidar’s trading area.

––––––––– 1101 See Part Three Section 5.2. 1102 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelse för år 1937, p. 9, in FKFS 1907-1940.

358 Hence, special requests came in from neglected areas, and special arrangements had to be made. In 1949, for example, a folk high-school in Skanör – a community southwest of Malmö – asked for contributions to a series of lectures which they were arranging. No particular subject for the lectures is mentioned in their application. But it is pointed out that a representative from the member council, who was also a member of the local propaganda and education committee in Skanör, had approved of the request. The applicants also reminded the directors that similar requests had been approved for courses arranged in Vellinge and Anderslöv last year. The board resolved that Solidar would contribute with 50 kronor to the series of lectures in Skanör.1103 One reason why Solidar supported these courses was no doubt a wish to provide their members in all districts of the society with the possibility to take part in educational activities. The accounts left from the propaganda committee show that Solidar arranged courses in nearly all districts, but that it was not possible to offer all members all the different courses that the society arranged or financed. There were members who found this inequitable, and who demanded that all members, no matter where they lived in Solidar’s trading area, should have the possibility to take part in study groups. This is, for example, what was argued by a member at a district meeting in Höllviken 1954. In response to this request, the board representative replied that there was always the opportunity to take a correspondence course provided by the co-operative correspondence school Brev- skolan.1104 There were, in other words, limits to what Solidar could offer in this regard. The alternative would have been to re-allocate existing resources to provide identical service to all the districts, but by doing so Solidar would have spread itself thin. Now, if we piece together the information from the previous part with what we have gathered here, we can say that there was an ample supply of resources going into education in Solidar. There was a pre-established slot devoted to this end, and it was guaranteed a minimum level of funding. Solidar had high educational ambitions, and the board tried to make it possible for all members to take part in the educational activities. Yet, the organisation that was built up around education and propaganda had its centre in the city, and with the expansion of Solidar’s trading area, it became more complicated to fulfil this aim. The introduction of local propaganda committees was an attempt to give representation to the more remote districts. But in doing so, the competition for educational resources and the articulation of demands were also structured along geographical lines. Their demands competed with the city centre, but also with the co- operative forums, which the propaganda committee supported, and with other educational ends. Indeed, if we use the term politics to refer to struggles over resources, based on units of mobilisation, then the local propaganda committees ––––––––– 1103 Protokoll styrelsemöte 21/11 1949. It was Mr V. Wernersson (spelt with a single v in the minute from the board meeting), that approved of the request and we find in the annual report from 1949 that he was a member of the local education and propaganda committee, see Förvaltnings- och Re- visionsberättelser för år 1949, p. 17, in FKFS 1941-1949, p. 17. 1104 Protokoll Höllviken 1954 no exact date.

359 were part of a miniature political system. This political dimension was taken away after 1960, when the local committees were abolished. After 1970, there was an attempt from the society to reintroduce politics in this sense, but that is another story. Let us now turn to the Newcastle Society. Our remarks above already gave a hint that the situation there was quite different from the one in Solidar. To be sure, there were members and directors who thought that their society should provide its members with education, but for a long time a majority of the members at member meetings thought otherwise. And since the decision to introduce an education fund rested with the members, no education fund was established until 1905. Considering that education was deemed important by the Rochdale Pioneers, and that the Newcastle Society obviously used Holyoake’s book on the pioneers as a practical guide when the society was formed, we would perhaps have expected them to set aside means for education. On this point, however, the society did not follow in the footsteps of the Pioneers. Yet, there clearly were members who wished that the society would do so, and who had a keen interest in co- operative education. To give but one example, an eloquent one, we can quote a pamphlet written by Elijah Copland. Copland was president of the Newcastle Branch of the Democratic Federation, member on the board of the Newcastle Society between 1896 and 1903, and chairman of the society between 1901 and 1903.1105 His pamphlet is about the importance of co-operative education, especially for rank and file members. The somewhat pointed picture he paints for us is captured in the following sentence: “It is better to give an active man an opportunity to employ his faculties, where he will feel and know that he is doing good, than to drive him by inaction into Co-operative Adullam1106, where he is sure to be joined by some kindred spirits, to plan a raid upon the next quarterly meeting”.1107 Elijah Copland had, it seems, made the same observation as we have done, namely that member meetings was the site of stern competition for resources, where groups of members could be mobilised to get a larger share of the society’s resources. He, however, is not speaking from the point of view of a disin- terested analyst. Instead, he deplores this state of affairs, and argues that co- operative education should contribute to its alleviation. But education, too, com- ––––––––– 1105 He was elected director in 1896. Minutes 139th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th January 1896. He was elected Chairman between 1901 and 1903. Minutes 160th Quarterly General Meeting, 24th April 1901. In 1903 Mr John Elliot became Chairman see Minutes 169th Quarterly General Meet- ing, 29th July 1903. 1106 Copland is probably referring to the discontented men gathered by David in the Cave of Adullam. David gathered together ”every one that was in distress, and every one that was in debt, and every one that was discontent” The Bible 1 Sam. 22.2. 1107 Copland Elijah, The Imperative Necessity of Educating the Rank and File of the Co-operative Movement, in Local Tracts 334, p. 7. Copland was often elected to represent the Society at Co- operative Congress and other meetings where the Society was represented. See Report from 97th Quarterly General Meeting Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society, in The Co-operative News August 1885.

360 petes for the society’s resources, and the majority of members preferred that the surplus be used for other purposes. Since Copland’s pamphlet has no date, we do not know how long he had to wait for his wishes to be fulfilled. There are other contributions to the debate, however, which can be dated with more precision. At the 97th quarterly meeting in 1885, Mr J. E. Graham submitted a motion that the society should devote a proportion of its profit to educational purposes. His proposition was followed by an animated discussion, and it was decided that an elected committee be appointed to make an inquiry.1108 Yet, we find no sums in the education fund accounted for in the Return of Trade in the following years, so we must assume that nothing came out of this inquiry (see Appendix 1). The first time money was allocated to an education fund – £115 to be more precise – was in 1891, and that decision had another and more immediate background. At a special general meeting in December 1890, it was resolved that an association for the social improvement of the members, and for the diffusion of information relative to the Co-operative Movement, should be formed. A committee was elected and assigned the task of drawing up the rules for this association. The committee consisted of representatives from the board, and from the committee of the Society’s Employees’ Mutual Improvement Association, as well as Messrs Smith, Copland, R. Henderson, L. Sangiter, Siddle, Chalders and McKay.1109 And so, in 1891, the quarterly member meetings in January and Oc- tober each approved awards of £25 to the Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Education and Social Association.1110 Additional sums must have been allocated that year, for the sum listed in the Return of Trade accounts is £115, but no further sums were decided on at the April and July quarterly meetings. In 1892 the members once again agreed to contribute with the sum of £25 to the education and social association.1111 But when the board wished to continue to apply the same sum in 1893 and 1894, the member meeting disapproved.1112 Not even when the sum was decreased to £15 did members at the quarterly meeting approve.1113 And when the Revision of Rules Committee in 1896 proposed a change of Rule 12 (“Application of profits”), which had institutionalised an education fund, the member meeting opposed and voted against it.1114 In other ––––––––– 1108 Report from 97th Quarterly General Meeting Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society, in The Co-operative News August 1885. 1109 Minutes Special General Meeting, 10th December 1890. 1110 Minutes 119th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th January 1891. Minutes 122nd Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1891. 1111 Minutes 126th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th October 1892. 1112 Resolution £25 to the Education and Social Association, not approved. Minutes 130th Quarterly General Meeting 25th October 1893. Resolution £25 to the Education and Social Association, not approved Minutes 131st Quarterly General Meeting, 24th January 1894. 1113 Resolution £15 to the Education and Social Association. Minutes 134th Quarterly General Meet- ing 24th October 1894. 1114 Upon consideration of Rule No 12 Application of profits it was proposed and seconded that clause 6 which reads as follows be deleted: ”To an Educational Fund to be applied in promoting instruction, culture or recreation, to which ½ d per £ of the net profit shall be awarded, or such larger sum as any quarterly meeting may determine.” Minutes Special General Meeting, 23rd September 1896.

361 words, the members were prepared to grant occasional flows of money to education, but not to make it into an established slot. The proponents for educational and social activities tried a new strategy in 1899. In January that year, Mr J. Strong proposed an education scheme without mentioning anything about how it should be financed.1115 At the following meeting a resolution for an education plan was presented, but the vote was adjourned. It issue was taken up again at the quarterly meeting in July. This time it was also put to the vote. 165 voted for the plan, but 201 voted against it, and the resolution was lost.1116 Yet, the proponents of co-operative education did not give up. The Revision of Rules Committee active in 1904 and 1905 suggested that the line “…also to provide educational facilities to its members…” be inserted in the paragraph on “Objects”. This proposition, too, was defeated. At the special general meeting in November, 25 voted for this amendment and 35 against. But another paragraph, “Application of profits”, was in fact changed, and the alteration established a fund for education. The new formulation stated that part of the profit should be set aside… …to an educational fund to be applied in promoting instruction, culture, or recreation, to which one shilling per £100 of the net profit shall be awarded, or such larger sum as any quarterly meeting may determine.1117 There are no notes next to the paragraph on application of profits, which means that no changes in the proposed rules were made. The Newcastle Society was now endowed with a slot for education, and, just as in Solidar, there was an automatic mechanism to ensure a supply of money to it. The comparison with Solidar is instructive, for it allows us to discern both similarities and important differences. The two societies now employed the same mechanism for allocating resources to education, i.e. that of setting aside a fixed proportion of the surplus. Yet, the size of that proportion differs markedly: 2.5 per cent in Solidar should be compared to 0.05 per cent in the Newcastle Society. Education thus had basic funding, but it was not very substantial, and additional resources granted by the member meeting would still make a world of difference. A glance at the Co-operative statistics, based on trade returns from consumer co-operative societies which were members of the Co-operative Union, reveals that small but regular sums were allocated to an education fund in the Newcastle Society from 1905 aonwards (see Appendix 1). An important resource, invisible in these statistics, was in fact granted by the board: in 1906, the board decided ––––––––– 1115 Resolution: ”That this meeting respectfully request the Directors to bring forward an Educational Scheme, the object of which will be (1) To promote Education especially that relating to the principles and practice of Co-operation amongst the members of the Society, and their friends (2) To endeavour, by means of lectures, essays, social gatherings, etc to increase mutual fellowship among the members of the Society, and to interest them and their public in general in the cause of co- operation and Education.” Minutes 151st Quarterly General Meeting, 25th January 1899. 1116 Minutes 152nd Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1899. Minutes 153rd Quarterly General Mee- ting, 25th July 1899. 1117 Proposed Rules in 120/106 Revision of Rules Committee 27 January 1904 – 7 December 1905, Tyne & Wear Archive, p. 11.

362 that the education committee be permitted the use of society’s rooms and halls free of charge for meetings and classes.1118 It is difficult to say exactly how extensive the education program of the New- castle Society was in the 1910s and throughout the 1920s. No reports from the education committee have survived from this period. Entries in the minutes from board and member meetings indicate, however, that there was a particular concern for providing employees, young employees in particular, with education. In the middle of the 1920s, the society paid the local education authorities to arrange classes for the society’s employees.1119 Apparently, all employees apparently did not appreciate these courses, for in the following year, 50 boys employed by the society had to account for their unsatisfactory attendance at evening classes before the finance sub-committee.1120 In October 1930, the member meeting voted for a resolution to discontinue the compulsory education for the employees.1121 All the while, the discussion continued about how the educational activities in general should be financed. In 1932, the Revision of Rules Committee suggested that there should be an annual grant of £600 for educational purposes. When voted upon, this proposition was defeated.1122 Some members thought that institutions other than the society were better equipped to provide members with education. In 1941, Mr Gibson proposed that the society give a sum of …”£500 annually to the Rector of King’s College for the Provision of scholarships for member’s children and, under certain conditions, open to adults.” The proposition was seconded by “the body of the Hall”. During the discussions that followed, however, the chairman declared that the board was against the proposition, and when a vote was taken, Mr Gibson’s proposition lost.1123 It is likely that the board knew about the changes that would come with a new education act, which was prepared and accepted in 1944. This act introduced free and compulsory education for everyone up to the age of 15.1124 Let us, however, linger a while on the developments in the 1940s. As we saw in section 5.1 of Part Three, the Newcastle Society started an education department in the 1940s, and the society funded and arranged all sorts of educational activities, including courses for employees. Yet, other questions were also brought to the fore in that decade. For example, the issue whether the education ––––––––– 1118 “Resolved that the Education Committee be granted the use of Society’s Rooms and Halls free of charge for meetings and classes.” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1905. 1119 See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1924. 1120 “Report of the Education Committee included in the Report to the Members Meeting. (This did not appear to have been the previous practice). It showed that six classes had been held for Instruc- tion in the Principles of Co-operation and that each class had held a Christmas Party (1925). In addition over 200 boys had attended classes (in the Cambridge Street School) where they were taught Arithmetic, Bookkeeping and Salesmanship and Commodities.” See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1925. 1121 Minutes 278th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th October 1930. 1122 Minutes Special General Meeting, 21st September 1932. 1123 Minutes 320th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th April 1941. 1124 Marwick Arthur, British Society since 1945, (1996[1982]), Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, p. 55.

363 department or the board should be responsible for the education of the employees – or staff training, as it was later called – was discussed at a quarterly meeting in July 1945.1125 More importantly, the question of how education should be funded was up for reconsideration. The renewed assessment was prompted by the introduction of the revised Education Act. In the words of the minutes: “In regard to the new Education Act, the Education Committee would be making application for an increased grant at the January Meeting to cover proposed extended activities.”1126 There was indeed a change in the supply of resources to education. Instead of depending on the surplus, the education fund would, from now on, receive money in proportion to the total number of members in the society: in 1946, it was decided that 1 penny per member and month should be allocated to the education fund. This was not just a change in the method of calculation, for, as the figures in Appendix 1 show, it also meant an increase of educational resources that allowed the society to employ a full-time education secretary.1127 Considering that it took 45 years until the member meeting of the Newcastle Society resolved that regular sums should be applied to an education fund, it is apparent that there were a great many attendants at member meetings who did not think that their society should fund and arrange educational activities. But the groups of members who thought that education was part and parcel of co- operation finally succeeded in getting collective resources invested in an educational department. Let us now make one small detour and ask what aims the education of members and employees was supposed to fulfil. This question was not addressed at member meetings. As we saw above, however, some prominent local co- operators published pamphlets on the subject. Elijah Copland thought that co- operative education would give active men the opportunity to employ their faculties in a useful way, and thereby prevent them from planning raids on the quarterly meetings of the Newcastle Society. Yet, half a century later, we find one of those very rare occasions when members talk about the purpose of education at a member meeting. At the quarterly meeting in July 1947, Mr Fendley expressed his opinion that the education committee must do something about the apathy in the elections. Members must be educated to use their vote.1128

––––––––– 1125 The question of the employees classes being the responsibility of the board instead of the educational committee was raised and noticed. Incidentally, the same meeting also contains a note which indicates that the society took some pride in the educational achievements of the staff: “The success of Martin Reed, of the clerical staff, was announced he having been awarded a ‘Thomas Lawther’ Scholarship.” Minutes 337th Quarterly General Meeting 25th July 1945. In the end, the responsibility for educating the staff remained with the educational department. See e.g. Educational department Annual Report, March 1946 - February 1947, in Annual Reports and Statement of Accounts, Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society, September 7th to March 1st 1947. 1126 Minutes 338th Quarterly General Meeting 31st October 1945. 1127 Minutes 339th Quarterly General Meeting 30th January 1946. 1128 “With regard to apathy in elections. Mr Fendley suggested that the Education Committee take steps to emphazise that members should exercise their vote.” Minutes 345th Quarterly General Mee- ting 30th July 1947.

364 Now, how shall we assess Mr Fendley’s suggestion? The turnout in the election of board and chairman in July 1947, when Mr Fendley made his request, was not conspicuously low compared to previous years, but was roughly on a par with them. It is only in the middle of the 1960s that we see a significant decrease in the absolute numbers of voters, and the more severe problems did not turn up until 1968, when there was no longer any competition for seats on the board.1129 Mr Fendley’s worries are not entirely unsubstantiated, however, for the number of members had increased, and the proportion of members who used their right to vote had gradually decreased. The solution he proposed that the education committee should do something about it, is indicative of a belief that education and propaganda would raise voting figures. But would they? Considering what we have seen so far of the development of member meetings in the Newcastle Society, it seems as if it was only when there was something at stake that members showed a significant interest in going to these meetings and vote. A similar analysis may well apply to elections for directors. As long as there were interests at stake, and the candidates for the board represented different interests amongst the membership, elections for seats on the board were real competitions. If turnout is, at least partly, a function of how much different members perceive to be at stake, then we should perhaps expect voting figures to go down. Let us now move on to consider resources allocated to political ends. The introduction of this theme requires some preliminary remarks, so as to specify the meaning of the term ‘political’ in this particular context. When we have used the term so far, it has most often been employed in a wide sense. In these instances, politics refers to almost any struggle about resources. We have also, especially in Part One, talked about politics in a much narrower party-political sense. What we shall deal with in the pages to come relates to politics in both of these senses but is adequately captured by neither of them. While these remarks may appear slightly enigmatic formulated in the abstract, they will hopefully become clearer after exemplification. As pointed out in Part One, politics, and party politics in particular, was a difficult issue to handle in a co-operative context. It was feared that political disagreements between or within different political camps could divide the membership of a consumer co-operative society – hence the principle of political neutrality written into the Rochdale model of Co-operation. This refers, of course, to party politics in the ordinary sense of the word. Yet, in spite of the fact that co- operators adhered to the Rochdale model, those who were engaged in co- operative societies could also hold positions in a political party.

––––––––– 1129 See election results noted in the minutes from Half Yearly Meeting 27th October 1965 and Half Yearly Meeting 25th October 1967 and compare with previous elections. The number of votes had not decreased that much but it is first in the middle of the 1960s that we see a trend in decreasing numbers. In 1968 The Secretary inform the members at the Half Yearly Meeting in October “…that six nominations had been received for six vacancies to the board of Directors and that Mr. E. Brown, Mr R. Harper, Mr. M. Hart, Mr. G. Henderson, Mr. J. Lamb and Miss J. Straker were thereby elected for 2 years.” Minutes Half Yearly Meeting 30th October 1968.

365 Solidar is a good example. In section 6.1 of Part One, we learned that many of the prominent co-operators in Malmö, some of whom held positions on the board of Solidar, were engaged in politics as Social Democrats. Just to make the example clearer, we can add a couple of more names to that list. One of them is Her- man Ericsson, one of the long-time directors of Solidar (1929-1962), and chairman between 1959 and 1962. Ericsson was also a Social Democrat.1130 He had a seat on the city council from 1927 to 1958, and was a member of the second chamber of the Swedish parliament from 1937 to 1946.1131 Another example is S. A. Johansson. He was a well-known Social Democrat in Malmö – chairman of the city council from 1950 to 1962, and entrusted with several political, trade union and business tasks – whose career started in Solidar. Mr Johansson was a representative on Solidar’s member council between 1926 and 1928.1132 Political debates are, however, absent from the discussions at member meetings. If political issues were discussed, they were at least not written down in the minutes. And the party-political activities of prominent co-operators in Solidar never caused any controversy. A possible reason for this is that members who were present at meetings avoided politics since it could cause conflicts. It can also be argued that everyone was in agreement when it came to politics and that there was nothing to discuss. There is a great deal in favour of the latter interpretation. Regardless of what the reasons were, the absence of politics in the minutes of Solidar marks a difference to the Newcastle Society. As we shall see from examples shortly, the member meetings in the Newcastle Society did not abstain completely from addressing political issues. Our motive for accounting for them in this context, however, is not simply that they were there. We will include them because they paved the way for later developments which are relevant to the ‘internal politics of co-operation’, i.e. struggles over the society’s resources. The stand which members took on whether it was appropriate for the society to get involved in political life forms the background to their reactions to the prospect of forming and funding a local section of the Co-operative Party within the society. This, too, has to do with party politics in the narrow sense of the word, for the Co-operative Party was affiliated with the Labour Party. But our current interest in the party is as a competitor for resources within the society. Hence, we will be dealing with politics both in a narrow and in a wide sense. If our inclusion of these examples may introduce some terminological confusion, our decision to do so also brings about a reward. The process behind the Newcastle Society’s affiliation with the Co-operative Party is documented in letters, and this correspondence gives us an opportunity to follow in detail how groups were mobilised to secure a favourable outcome at the member meeting. We thus get a glimpse of what went on behind the scene, and of the role played,

––––––––– 1130 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1929, in FKFS 1907-1940. Verksamhetsberättelser för år 1959, p. 5, in FKFS 1950-1960, p. 15. Verksamheten 1962, Solidar, p. 7. 1131 Malmsten, (1989), p. 185. 1132 In the annual report from 1928 S. A. Johansson resigned from his position and representatives on the member council usually were elected for a two year period. Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättle- ser för år 1928, p. 5, in FKFS 1907-1940.

366 for example, by the co-operative forums in a type of mobilisation process which was surely important in a situation where the consent of the member meeting was needed for decisions about resources. We begin, however, with a couple of other examples where the society got involved in politics. Our first stop is at the quarterly meeting in April 1890. The meeting was in an agitated state. The board and the members were upset because the town council had refused to pass the society’s plans for a new slaughter house and stables. The board was instructed to investigate what powers the Town Improvement Com- mittee had to withhold their sanction of the plans that the society had handed in: there was obviously a suspicion that the sanction had been denied on political grounds. It was therefore resolved that “…the first subject for discussion at the mid Quarterly meeting be the desirability of taking action to secure the return of members of the Society as representatives upon the City Council and other local governing bodies”.1133 Yet, the resolution of this matter did not have to wait for the quarterly meeting. At a special meeting in June it was proposed… That a Committee be appointed of members residing in different Wards in the City whose duty it shall be to question candidates for Election to the City Council as to their views upon matters likely to affect the interest of the Society, and to take such other actions as they deem fit.1134 This turn of events was not appreciated by all members. Some of those who attended the meeting reacted against the idea that the society would get involved in politics. They proposed an amendment, stating that the society should not “…take direct action in any election of public officers”. The motion was nevertheless carried, and the board was empowered to nominate candidates for the suggested committee.1135 But this first entry into local politics came to a halt only one month later: the July quarterly meeting decided that the appointment of the committee should be cancelled.1136 The outcome of this vote may reflect the fact that those who objected to the society engaging in politics had mobilised and were in majority at the meeting. It could also be that the matter had been dropped because new light had been shed on the incident which sparked off the process in the first place. When we read the minutes from the quarterly meeting in April 1890, we get the impression that the Town Improvement Committee was actively seeking to thwart the plans of the Newcastle Society. However, if we look at the reports from the Newcastle Coun- cil from April that year, we find that the council discussed the sealing of 26 slaughter-house licenses for six months. In view of this fact, the refusal to sanction the Newcastle Society’s plans no longer comes out as a politically inspired discrimination against co-operative societies. What happened next vindicates this interpretation. The Sanitary Committee had appointed a sub-committee to make further inquiries. On 2 July, the question once again came up on the agenda of ––––––––– 1133 Minutes 116th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th April 1890. 1134 Minutes Special General Meeting 11th June 1890. 1135 Minutes Special General Meeting 11th June 1890. 1136 Minute 117th Quarterly General Meeting 30th July 1890.

367 the city council. It was brought up by Alderman Cail, who was a member of the sub-committee which had been appointed to study the slaughter-house issue more closely. He tried to convince the council that the cattle market ought to be removed and relocated to the site where the new abattoirs were going to be built. In the end, it was decided that the sub-committee should continue to examine the question.1137 It thus appears as if the Newcastle Society had simply applied for the erection of a slaughter house and stables at a bad time, and this may have become clear to the members at the quarterly meeting in July. But regardless of whether the perceived injustice was real or a figment of the imagination, it sparked off activity in the society. The membership was split into two camps. One camp would not regard politics as a forbidden method to acquire influence and improve the local situation for co-operatives; the other camp opposed political involvement altogether. Politics could thus come up on the agenda of member meetings in the Newcastle Society. When it does, it is typically to ensure that there are representatives in political assemblies who work in the interest of the society and its members. We find another example of this strategy thirty years later. A political election was coming up. The city was to elect candidates to vacant seats in the Direction for Guardians. To make sure that the elected candidates would act in the interest of co-operation, the Newcastle Society would encourage its members to vote for the right person. Thus, in February 1920, a special meeting was called to determine which candidates to support. Once again, there were members who were opposed to the society interfering with politics. When the meeting opened, two members objected to the purpose for which the meeting was called. This objection was not regarded, and the meeting started. Five women and two men were nominated and invited to the meeting, and the members asked them questions from the body of the hall. What did they, for instance, think about co-operators being denied poor relief because they had share capital standing in their account? All candidates denounced this mode of procedure. Other questions concerned food coupons issued to co-operators in necessi- tous circumstances. The candidates agreed that the society should pay a dividend on the value of supplies bought with these coupons. When the questions-and- answers section of the meeting was over, the members were asked to take a vote on which candidates to support. The result of the election is summed up in the chairman’s concluding remarks:

––––––––– 1137 Alderman Cail first stated that there was a link between the high death rate in Newcastle and the Cattle Market and the many slaughter houses. He compared with other cities but he did not convince the other councillors that it was the blood going out in the sewers that caused the higher death rate in Newcastle. Besides this Mr Baty used Mr Alderman Cail’s own argument to state the opposite. Mr Baty pointed out that many of the cities Cail had compared with had the same kind of cattle market arrangements as Newcastle had and still has a lower death rate. Manchester even had higher death rates that Newcastle but had excellent abattoirs. “Slaughter Houses” 2nd April 1890 and “Pro- posed Removal of the Cattle Market and Erection of Abattoirs” 2nd July 1890, in Newcastle Council Reports 1889-1890 L352 N536(1).

368 Mr. Jhos G. Reed 100 votes, Mr James W. Howat 51 votes, Mrs Elisabeth Ann Dodd 36 votes, Mrs Mary Munro 32 votes, Mrs Mary Garland 31 votes, Mrs E Todd 26 votes and Mrs Mary Smith 23 votes./…/ The Chairman, therefore, declared Mr Reed duly selected for the Dene Ward, and Mr Howat for the Stephenson Ward, at the same time asking all members to put forth their very best efforts to secure the return of the two successful candidates.1138 The matter was settled. There were no further protests at the meeting, but at the quarterly meeting in April 1920 one member questioned the cost of the special meeting in February. He received a reply, but no figures are mentioned in the minutes.1139 That question can well be interpreted as an indirect criticism of the procedure, but it is couched in terms of how the society used its collective capital. Issues similar to those which were brought up in 1920 reappear subsequently. Ten years later the issue of Poor Law Relief was on the agenda again, but this time the society’s chairman was a member of the city council and could inform the members of what had taken place at the council meeting. He reassured them that he had handed in the society’s protest: [The Chairman] gave a report of what had transpired at a Council meeting that day, whereat the question of deducting dividend from the amounts payable to recipients of Poor Law Relief, had been discussed, and which eventually, he said, had resulted in our protest against such action, being upheld, which the meeting received with approval.1140 These examples show that, in contrast to Solidar, politics appeared on member meetings in the Newcastle Society, but also that their appearance there was controversial. They also show that the society’s political involvement was geared towards issues with immediate consequences for the society and its members. We have described them as a prelude to our main concern, which is to describe the process leading up to the Newcastle Society’s decision to form and fund a local section of the Co-operative Party. The Co-operative Party was an attempt to establish, on a national level, an organisation which would work for the interests of co-operative societies and their members. It was formed in 1917. The Newcastle Society had supported proposals from the Co-operative Union Parliamentary Committee before the formation of this party.1141 One would perhaps expect, then, that the society would affiliate with the party on its formation. This, however, was not the case. In this respect, the Newcastle Society conforms to a more general pattern. The Co-operative Par- ty had difficulties all over the country in getting co-operative societies to affili- ––––––––– 1138 Minutes Special General Meeting 25th February 1920. 1139 Minutes 236th Quarterly General Meeting 28th April 1920. 1140 Minutes 278th Quarterly General Meeting 29th October 1930. 1141 “That a motion be adopted in accordance with the recommendation of the Parliamentary Commit- tee of the Co-operative Union urging the Local Members of Parliament to give support to the passing of the Industrial and Provident Societies (Amendment Bill).” Minutes 209th Quarterly General Meeting 30th July 1913.

369 ate, and those who did join did not always pay the subscription. The strategy since 1917 had been to get co-operative societies to affiliate to the Co-operative Party and establish a “Society Party”. The problem with this was that the decision to affiliate had to be passed by the member meeting, which is a rather high threshold to cross. Thus, a new strategy was introduced in the late 1920s. The offer to affiliate now went to individual members of the co-operative societies. If they wanted to affiliate with the Co-operative Party, they could form a voluntary party branch within their society. With these voluntary branches as base, they could then try to persuade the other members to vote for a society party. Cole remarks in his centenary history that it was generally larger co-operative societies which affiliated with the Co-operative Party, and that it was the smaller societies that were reluctant to do so.1142 The Newcastle Society was the eighth largest society in 1900, and ended up as the fifteenth in the table of the twenty- five largest Co-operative Societies in 1942.1143 Despite this, it took a long time before the society affiliated with the Co-operative Party. Let us now follow the developments which led up to that decision. In October 1920 the board wished to confirm a resolution that had been passed at the quarterly meetings in October 1917 and in October 1919. The resolution in question stated: That the annual grants of £2 per 1,000 members and 2d per member…to the co-operative representation fund and to the fund for fighting elections of local [government] bodies be confirmed, and that such sums be paid only out of the reserve fund of the Society.1144 As the wording of the resolution shows, two controversial issues intersect here. The first is whether the society should be involved in politics, the second whether the society’s resources should be used to this end rather than be spent on other things. Members who were in favour of using co-operative resources for political, even party-political, activities had apparently been in the majority at the two previous meetings. At the October meeting in 1920, however, the critics had gathered their forces. Their first move was to question the legal right for co-operative societies to use their money in the proposed way. The Co-operative Union’s solicitors, who were present at the meeting, assured that the resolution to take the money from the reserve fund did not violate the rules. The union representatives also declared that they were prepared to fight in court for the right to use co-operative money for political purposes, should any members decide to take legal action. When the possibility to rule out affiliation on legal grounds seemed to be barred, the members who opposed political representation instead continued to argue against it. One member maintained that it would raise dissension and trouble in the society if they entered into politics. He was answered by another member, who said that the Co-operative movement had as much right as limited liability companies to ––––––––– 1142 Cole, (1947), pp. 320, 324-325. 1143 Cole, (1947), p. 213. 1144 Minutes 238th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1920.

370 be represented in the House of Commons. Yet, when the matter was put to the vote, it turned out that the critics were in the majority. The recommendation to contribute to the funds for political representation was defeated by a large majority.1145 In 1920, the member meeting was too high a threshold. But the interest in the Co-operative Party did not wane in other parts of the membership, who continued to propagate for their point of view. In February 1925, for example, the board of the Newcastle Society received information – via the Co-operative Party and the Men’s Guild – that a conference would be held, probably in New- castle, to inform interested co-operators about the aims and objects of these two organisations. The board made a note of this, but there was no discussion of it to reveal their opinion on the matter.1146 Four months later, the organiser of the Northern District of the Co-operative Party wrote to the board and asked for an interview. The board replied that in view of the members’ decision on a recent quarterly meeting – they must be referring to the meeting in October 1920 – no such interview could take place.1147 Once again, the proponents of the Co-operative Party had suffered a set-back. They responded by taking their advocacy for a society party outside of the society, to the general public. This, however, was not popular. At the quarterly meeting in July 1927, the chairman of the Newcastle Society, Mr Lax, commented on what had been written in the press about the society and politics. These writings, he thought, were a source of trouble, for they left the impression that the society sympathised with a particular political party. In the words of the minutes, Mr Lax wished to “…state as emphatically as he could in the hope of removing any possible doubt, from the public mind, that the society is in no way politically involved”.1148 Interestingly enough, Mr Lax stood for election as a Labour Party candidate that same autumn, and won a seat in the city council.1149 The question of political representation did not come up on the agenda again until 1936. It turns up in a new attempt – by Mr Muir (director and member of the education committee) and Mrs Isabel Reed (a former director) – to get the Newcastle Society to fund the Co-operative Party. They proposed “…that an amount equal to one half-penny per member per annum be allocated from the Reserve Fund under Rules 12 (clause 4(b)) and such amount paid to the National Fund of the Co-operative Party”. Yet, the members had not changed their minds. The resolution was defeated by a large majority.1150 At his point, however, the Co-operative Party had changed its strategy. In- stead of trying to persuade all the different member meetings around the country, the party offered interested members the possibility to form local voluntary branches. The idea was that the voluntary branches could influence their fellow

––––––––– 1145 Minutes 238th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1920. 1146 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 10th February 1925. 1147 Minutes Directors’ Meeting 2nd June 1925. 1148 Minutes 265th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1927. 1149 See election results in The Journal 2nd November 1927. 1150 Minutes 302nd Quarterly General Meeting, October 28th 1936.

371 members to agree to an affiliation. We do not know the exact date when a voluntary branch was established in the Newcastle Society, but we know for certain that it was there in 1938. In the minutes from a meeting arranged by the education committee of the Newcastle Society in December 1938, there was a representative from a voluntary branch of the Co-operative Party. Thus, the branch was also recognised as a co-operative forum by the education committee.1151 From the late 1930s, the Co-operative Party had a permanent local organisation in Newcastle which could promote the party from the inside. The work to establish, and get funding for, an affiliation between the Newcas- tle Society and the Co-operative Party now had a more stable organisation. The voluntary branch had a secretary, Mr Langdown, to orchestrate its efforts. Through his correspondence, we can discern the tactics of mobilising support in a situation where everything depends on whether you can get the member meeting to vote in favour of your proposition. The importance of this is not limited to this particular issue, for it sheds light on a more general problem, encountered by anyone who aspired to get a proposition accepted – or, in Copland’s more derogatory formulation, “to plan a raid on the next quarterly meeting”. The example is not entirely typical, though, for Langdown had access to the good advice of Jack Bailey, who was the national organiser of the Co-operative Party. In a letter from 1941, Jack Bailey urges Langdown to be patient and focus first on securing the resolution for national affiliation. If that resolution was accepted, the voting figures would reveal what support the party had in the society, and if it was strong enough they should go for a local grant. He thought it wise to keep the question of affiliation and grant separate, for, in his experience, it could be a rather delicate matter to get member meetings to set aside society resources.1152 In other words, Bailey’s proposed strategy is to separate the two intersecting controversial issues, so as not to fight two enemies at the same time. Langdown heeded Bailey’s advice. So how do you go about rallying support? The key element in mobilisation was that a good portion of the membership was also active in other, closely knit co-operative forums – and other organisations – which were related to, but not the same as, the Newcastle Society. To spread the word about what you were trying to achieve, and to secure support, it was a good idea to contact key persons in these forums and ask for their assistance. We can follow Langdown’s campaign in a series of letters. The first letter in the series is addressed to “George”. “George” is, presumably, George Mallabar, a former member of the board of the Newcastle Society. Langdown explains in the letter that he will come to the meeting of the City Labour Party the following Saturday to rally support. Here is an extract from the letter: Dear George ––––––––– 1151 Minutes of a Meeting with the Education Committee and Representatives of the Co-operative Auxiliary Organisations to consider the Proposal of the Educational Committee to form a ”Co- operative Educational Co-ordination Committee”, 9th December 1938 in 1127/30. 1152 Letter to Mr Langdown from Jack Bailey (National Organiser of the Co-operative Party), De- cember 5th 1941, in 1857/3.

372 We are now making final arrangements, in our attempt to get Newcastle Co-op Society, Affiliated to the Co-op Party, at the Quarterly Meeting, April 29th, and I would like you to remind delegates at the annual meeting of the City Labour Party on Sat, Mar, 14th of this./…/ If we could get an enthusiastic feeling amongst members of the Labour Party, and Trade Council, I am sure there would be no fear of defeat, but we must make sure that everyone who is a member of N/C Society, should eether [either] attend to vote, or that someone attend in their place. I would therefore like to suggest that I should, with the Party’s permission, send out circular to all Divisional, and Ward, Secretaries, explaining the position and asking if they would have speakers to address them on this subject.1153 Langdown then proceeds to write to Mrs Dobson of the Women’s Co-operative Guild. All the branches of the WCG had joined the Co-operative Party, with two exceptions: the branches at Stanhope Street and Brinkburn Street. In his letter, Langdown asks Mrs Dobson to try to persuade the remaining branches as well. Mrs Dobson is willing to assist, but she explains to him that the task would be difficult: “I have been to Brinkburn St Guild and although they admitted I had given them something to think about, they will not support the resolution as a body, but I think there will be one or two who will do so”. She continues by saying that she will visit the other guild branch too, but has no hope of their support.1154 The next letter went to Mr Short, representative on the Trade Council. Lang- down asks him to circulate an appeal to all trade unions that members of the Newcastle Society in these unions should vote for the affiliation. He received no answer. Somewhat disappointed, he notifies Mr Short, in a second letter, that, despite not having received any response, he has sent appeals to 73 trade unions organisations that are affiliated with the Labour Party. He then asks for addresses to those organisations which are not affiliated to the Labour Party, and adds in a note: “I hope I haven’t overstepped the mark in anyway, but as I had to have these circulars out by April I think you will understand”.1155 After all these organisations had been contacted, Langdown wrote a letter to his “Colleagues”, presumably members of the local voluntary branch. We are now little more than a month away from the quarterly meeting where the question is going to be decided. The task at hand is to survey the opposition, make a general assessment of the situation, and prepare for counter-strikes. First of all, he gives his colleagues a report on where members of the board of the Newcastle Society stand on the issue. The majority of the directors, he declares, have agreed to support the resolution. Yet, not the whole board is in favour. Langdown is uncertain as to how Mr West will act, and absolutely certain that Mr Sanderson will be a problem. “I understand”, Langdown says, that West “is sitting on the fence”. ––––––––– 1153 Letter to George from Mr Langdown, no date, in 1857/3. 1154 Letter to Mrs Dobson from Mr Landown, no date. Letter to Mr Langdown from Mrs Dobson, no date. Both in 1857/3. 1155 Letter to Mr Short from Mr Langdown, no date.Second Letter to Mr Short from Mr Langdown, no date. Both in 1857/3.

373 He had heard that West had applied for positions in the Co-operative Party, on the National Executive and as organiser, and concludes that “it would be very useful if we could confirm this”. West was still a potential threat, but not the most serious one: However, I think we have most to fear from Sanderson, who is very active in the field of opposition, as he certainly seems to have close connections with the, Right. I have it on good authority, that the NGC. are taking a more lenient view of the subject than they did previously, and as San- derson is President, of the Central Brh this may be a good sign, I think it would be best however if we arrange for propaganda, against a supposed organised opposition from him.1156 Note that the co-operative forums – here the NGC – are available, as vehicles of mobilisation, to the opposition as well, and were perceived to be so. After these risk assessments, Langdown closes his letter with a report on the support from the Labour Party and the support that he hopes will come from the Trade Coun- cil.1157 The countdown has begun. On 8 April Langdown receives a letter from Bailey with suggestions about circulars to the guilds and about the plans for rallies.1158 Three days later, the voluntary party branch receives a letter from the secretary of the Newcastle Society: “My Directors instruct me to express thanks for your offer to co-operate in securing support for their recommendation anent affiliation to the Co-operative Party”.1159 This is a sign that things are going the right way: the letter from the secretary almost gives the impression that it was in fact the board which was fighting for an affiliation. The proponents of the Co-operative Party were finally successful. At the quarterly meeting in April 1942, the member meeting voted for an affiliation. This time, the board recommended the members to vote in favour of the proposition. To persuade members, the chairman, Mr Boyle, made comparisons with other societies. He pointed out that many societies were now affiliated, and that a society of the size of the Newcastle Society ought to be paying £150 per annum to the Co-operative Party. In the following discussion, members spoke both for and against the resolution of the board. Sanderson kept quiet, but West spoke against it from the platform. The protesting members argued their case, but unsuccess- fully. The resolution was eventually carried by a large majority. Mr Bracey protested, and said he would move a resolution to rescind this decision, but he never did.1160 A couple of days later, Langdown finds a letter from Jack Bailey, dated the 30th of April, in his letterbox:

––––––––– 1156 Letter to “Dear Collegues” from Mr Langdown, 16 March 1942, in 1857/3. 1157 Letter to “Dear Collegues” from Mr Langdown, 16 March 1942, in 1857/3. 1158 Letter to Mr Landown from Mr Jack Bailey, April 8th 1942, in 1857/3. 1159 Letter to The Co-operative Party (Mr Langdown) from M. H. Young, Secretary (the Newcastle Society), April 11th 1942, in 1857/3. 1160 Minutes 324th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th April 1942.

374 May I first of all congratulate the Newcastle Voluntary Party upon the successful culmination of the efforts it has made over many years to secure the national affiliation of the Newcastle Society to the Co-operative Party. I am sure that the result of the meeting last night is most gratifying to you all.1161 As it turns out, Bailey was right in his suggestion that it would be easier to get the member meeting to assign resources to the Co-operative Party if it had voted for an affiliation first. A year later, they did get a local grant. At the quarterly meeting in July 1943, the member meeting supported the resolution that a sum equal to 1 penny per member, or such an amount that any quarterly meeting would agree to, would be applied to the funds of the Newcastle upon Tyne Society Co-operative Party.1162 The process of forming a society party had finally come to an end. It remains for us to draw out a few consequences, both of the outcome and of the process which led up to it. We will begin with a note on the outcome. From April 1942 the Newcastle Society officially supported the Co-operative Party, and from July 1943 it also financed a local branch of the party. Thus, when the society entered the Post-War Period, it gave financial support to educational, political, and social activities to a greater extent than it had done prior to 1945. Yet, it is the process which is most interesting in this connection. Our example of the struggles leading up to the Newcastle Society’s affiliation with the Co- operative Party illustrates both the readiness to discuss politics at member meetings and the member opposition towards involving the society in political matters. It illustrates both the difficulties in getting the member meeting to agree to forming and funding a party society, and the different strategies which were employed by the proponents of the party to reach their goal. Regarding the latter, we have also received an inside view of the mobilisation process, which brings out the importance of the co-operative forums as vehicles of mobilisation in a situation where the consent of the member meeting is needed. Moreover, the strategy that finally turned out to be successful relates to our previous discussions of the struggle for society resources. Only when the issue of affiliation was separated from the question of funding was it possible to secure support for the Newcastle Society’s affiliation with the Co-operative Party. Now, our lengthy account of this particular example has very much tilted the focus to the Newcastle Society. There are two reasons for doing so. The first, and somewhat superficial, reason is that there never was a Co-operative Party in Sweden. Our second reason is more substantial, however. If we consider Section 2.1 as a whole, and add to it pieces from our other descriptions and arguments, we come to the conclusion that the member meeting had very different roles to play in the Newcastle Society and Solidar. In Solidar, the power to create and shape slots is essentially beyond the reach of the member meeting. Such decisions, and most decisions over the allocation to the slots, are either regulated in

––––––––– 1161 Letter to “Dear Colleague” (Mr Langdown) from Mr Jack Bailey, April 30th 1942, in 1857/3. 1162 Minute 329th Quarterly General Meeting 28th July 1943.

375 the rules or taken by the board. This means that the board is not dependent on getting a majority of the votes at particular member meetings. In this respect, the contrast to the Newcastle Society is striking, for here the member meeting is an arena for a tug-of-war about resources. And in a situation where the member meeting is the eye of the needle, through which a host of decisions must pass, mobilisation attains an extraordinary importance. This is the second reason for our preoccupation with the Newcastle Society’s decision to affiliate with the Co- operative Party. It gives us an insight into the conditions of, and the strategies for, competition about resources. One result of Section 2.1 is thus to underline the differences between Solidar and the Newcastle Society with regard to the authority of the member meeting and to charter some further consequences of this difference. But apart from our cross-case analysis, we have also, albeit somewhat less systematically, made within-case comparisons over time. We have noted, for example, that the influence accorded to the member meeting of the Newcastle Society was slowly and gradually curtailed. Yet, unless this assertion is supplemented with further specifications, it is liable to create a mirage that the authority of the board increased accordingly, whereas, in fact, there is no simple zero-sum relationship between the authority of the board and that of the member meeting with regard to their ability to freely dispose of the society’s resources. We must therefore extend our analysis of the findings in this section. To this end, it is instructive to remind ourselves of the kind of funds and schemes we have been dealing with here. Some of them – e.g. the mortgage scheme in the Newcastle Society, and the relief fund in Solidar – cater to the needs of individual member households; others, e.g. those related to education, propaganda, and politics, are implemented to provide for activities which are not bound up with the household economy of the members. However, they are all long-term funds and schemes. That is to say: once the slots are established, they have, for a long time, detracted from other possible uses of the societies’ surplus. This has consequences, but they differ between the two societies. Moreover, particularly in our British case, the consequences differ over time. Let us therefore begin with an analysis of the conditions for long-term schemes in the Newcastle Society. When decisions about resources have to be passed by a majority at the member meetings, it can be difficult to introduce a new scheme which competes for the available resources. As we have seen, it took a long time before education got a slot, and the same holds for funding to the Co-operative Party. In the case of the mortgage scheme, its introduction was facilitated by a temporary need to find a useful way of managing excess surplus. In other cases, such as the collective assurance scheme or medical assistance, the introduction of funds and schemes was uncontroversial because they were, at the time, perceived to benefit everyone. But if schemes are sometimes difficult to introduce under these circumstances, they are also difficult to terminate. Both the collective life assurance scheme and the mortgage scheme eventually became expensive for the society, eating up an increasing proportion of the surplus. In spite of this, they were very difficult to dismantle. There were fairly strong groups to support the continuation of the scheme, and to make sure that the member meeting or the board would not decide to impair the conditions for the

376 scheme. When they were finally dismantled, this was at least partly a result of the fact that gradual rule changes, and a piecemeal handing over of power, had given the board somewhat more latitude to prevent the member meeting from making amendments containing financial recommendations. Thus far, our general proposition, that the board was gradually granted an authority which had previously belonged with the member meeting, holds true. But the picture is in fact more complicated. When the member meeting voted to introduce a slot, which was then difficult to dismantle, the hands were tied, not only of the board but also of future member meetings. The old funds and schemes had their own support groups, but these schemes consumed resources which could have been used for other ends. The inertia inherent in such a system adds to the difficulties for new groups to cut out resources tailored to their particular needs. How, then, does this compare to the situation in our second case? Solidar, too, had slots for long-term funds and schemes. They were, however, initiated, maintained, and terminated by the board. The introduction of a scheme did not have to be passed by a majority at a member meeting, nor did its termination. This means that the board had more room to manoeuvre, since such decisions could be taken unilaterally. To the extent that member benefits, outside the narrow scope of retail service, were catered for by other parts of the movement, the board was reluctant to arrange them within the society. Moreover, the supply of funding to these slots was, to a great extent, guaranteed through automatic distribution mechanisms. This solution is by no means absent in the Newcastle Soci- ety, but it was rarer, less generous, and typically introduced later on in the organisation’s history. The steady supply of resources which, in the case of Soli- dar, was accumulated in, for example, the education fund, made it possible to develop a fairly sized educational apparatus. A growing surplus meant a growing supply of money to education and propaganda; but as the society expanded its trading area, it also became difficult to provide the same educational services to members in the more remote districts. This translates into a problem of equity: why should some of the members contribute to funding services which they could not utilise? There is one more issue which we must consider before we go on to the next chapter. What we have studied so far are funds and schemes which were either directed to individual member households or used to build up funds for specific activities within the respective co-operative societies. This leaves us with a residual category, namely those resources which were allotted to aims outside of the organisations. It is residual, however, only in the sense that it does not fit into the other categories, for it touches on an important issue brought up in Part One. In Section 3.1.3 of that part, we quoted Hjalmar Branting’s appeal in the Social- demokraten journal, where he urged members of individual co-operative societies to distribute the surplus of their business for the benefit of the liberation of the working-class, e.g. by using co-operative capital to support striking workers. This would be one example of resources allocated to ends outside the co- operative societies’ internal activities. Did this happen? More generally: what type of external activities did the societies fund?

377 2.2 Co-operative funds and resources used for activities outside the co-operative organisations Our account in Part Two – and in Chapter 1 in this part – shows that the Newcas- tle Society and Solidar expanded rapidly and generated a great deal of collective capital. Even without reading the balance sheets, it must have been obvious to contemporaries that these societies had amassed resources which could perhaps be used for other ends than the co-operative businesses. Who could claim these resources, and how did they have to proceed to do this? As we shall see, the two societies introduced different procedures for the distribution of co-operative resources to activities outside of strictly co-operative purposes. As we shall also see, these regular channels of outside funding coexisted with attempts, from established members and from different associations, to acquire financial contributions in other ways. We will begin our account in the Newcastle Society. A charitable purpose fund was formed by the society in 1868. It was resolved by the member meeting that 0.5 per cent of the net profit of the trade of the society should be set aside in a charitable purpose fund.1163 This, in other words, is a rare example of the New- castle Society making early use of an automatic distribution mechanism. How- ever, one issue of distribution remained to be settled, namely who the beneficiaries should be. The procedure for deciding this was that the board would present the quarterly meeting with a list of recommended institutions or activities, to which the money in the charitable purpose fund should be awarded. The member meeting could then either approve or disapprove of the recommendation. The list was usually approved. If there were any comments at the meeting, they were generally suggestions as to what other institutions or activities ought to be added to the list. An inspection of the recipients reveals that donations are given mainly to institutions which help people who, by no fault of their own, have met with misfortune: hospitals, institutions for the disabled, and orphanages. The institution which received most donations was the Royal Infirmary.1164 I have not found any discussions about the principles, if there were any, governing the resources in the charitable purpose fund. The available information nevertheless indicates that there was an element of mutuality in the relationship between the society and at least some of the beneficiaries. The first charitable donation from the charitable purpose fund, made by the society in 1868, was a donation of £2 and 2 shillings to the Newcastle Dispensary and £1 and of 1 shilling to the Children’s Hospital. This was the same year as the Newcastle Society began its practice of giving letters of admission to members, and to their relatives, granting medical attention at the dispensary. Later on, we find evidence that the same type of letters were issued also by the Children’s Hospital.1165 ––––––––– 1163 A Brief Account …(1886), p. 7. See also Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1868. 1164 See Quarterly Reports inserted in the Minutes Books Quarterly and Board Meetings Minute Bo- oks 120/1-45. 1165 See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1868. We find proof that members used the possibility to apply for letters in the minutes from board meetings: “An application for a letter to admit Jessie Scott the child of a member to the Children’s Hospital was granted.” Minute of Directors Meeting

378 A second piece of information corroborates the hypothesis that, at least in some cases, there was a mutual relationship between society and beneficiaries. In July 1896 Mr Metcalfe1166 notified the board that he wished to propose a proposition at the quarterly meeting that month. He wrote that he wished to propose “…a motion in reference to the distribution of letters admitting to the benefits of medical charities given to the Society on account of contribution made to their funds”. It was decided at the board meeting that this proposition should be included in the printed program for the quarterly meeting to be held on 14 July 1896.1167 Metcalfe’s motion was lost. But it is neither the fate nor the content of his proposition which interests us in this context. The point is rather that the proposition in itself, or the unquestioned presupposition on which it rests, demonstrates that there was an element of reciprocity between donor and recipient. We mentioned above that the Royal Infirmary was the largest recipient of donations from the charitable purpose fund. Now, the relationship with this institution deepened and became more complex in the middle of the 1890s. At the quarterly meeting in April 1896, it was resolved that the society should become guarantors for an exhibition which was to be held in the city in the following year, for the purpose of raising money to a new building at the infirmary. The members agreed to guarantee the sum of £250 for this purpose.1168 Then, in June 1896, the board received a circular from the officers of the Royal Infirmary. In the circular, the society was asked both to become guarantors to an exhibition fund and to take up shares in a limited liability company which had been built up for the purpose. The secretary of the Newcastle Society pointed out that taking up such shares might not be compatible with the rules of the society. The decision was postponed, but at the following directors’ meeting it was resolved “[t]hat the Society agree to take up Shares to the amount of guarantee as sanctioned by the members”, that is, the sum that the members agreed to at the quarterly meeting in April the same year.1169 With that decision, the society was engaged in the Royal Infirmary on an entirely new level of involvement. The next step was not far away. In 1898, the members discussed whether the society should have representatives on the governing board of the infirmary. It was decided that the board should make an enquiry and report back to the next meeting.1170 Their answer was in the affirmative. At the following quarterly meeting, in January 1899, the members voted on candidates for the governing board of the Royal Infirmary. Eight candidates were nominated, and the result of the vote was that Miss Pease, Mrs Bell and Mrs Chapman were elected.1171

31st March 1889. See also in Section 2.1. Funds and schemes for the use of the members, in this part. 1166 Mr Joseph Metcalf was elected director in July 1903. Minutes 169th Quarterly General Meeting 29th July 1903. 1167 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting, Tuesday 14th July 1896. 1168 Minutes 140th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th April 1896. 1169 Minutes of Directors’ Meeting, 16th June 1896. Minutes of Directors’ Meeting, 30th June 1896. 1170 Minutes 154th Quarterly General Meeting 25th October 1898. 1171 Minutes 155th Quarterly General Meeting 31st January 1899.

379 The sums distributed to the charitable fund are listed in Appendix 1. The figures keep oscillating until 1946, when they are replaced with a fixed (and lower) sum of £500. The variations are due to the fact that the amount assigned to the fund is a function of the surplus, and the sudden stabilisation in 1946 reflects a decision to relinquish that allocation principle. Much had of course changed between 1868 and 1946. The government had, for example, stepped in to fund the medical system to a much greater extent, thus rendering the support from the charitable fund unnecessary. Three years after the fixed sum of £500 was introduced, the board thus recommended the member meeting that “…in the future, only those institutions not taken over under the National Health Act, [are] to benefit from this fund”. Yet, the board’s proposition was not well received by the members. Their recommendation was defeated when voted upon. The member meeting wished to continue to support the same institutions which the society had supported for a long time – even if these institutions also received funds from the state.1172 This somewhat conservative attitude is part of a general pattern. In fact, the list of recipients of charitable donations in 1962 does not differ much from its predecessors in the late 19th century.1173 You get the impression that time has stood still. New institutions and activities had apparently had a hard time to establish themselves as recipients. However, receiving a donation from the charitable purpose fund was not the only way of getting funding from the Newcastle Society. There was also the possibility that the member meeting would grant resources to external organisations and activities. During the 1880s groups outside the society began to regard the Newcastle Society as a source of support. Different fundraisers for relief of distress in the city, and in the minor communities in Northumberland and Durham, turned to the society and asked for contributions. Sometimes the donation was a sum of money, and sometimes it was given as coupons which could be exchanged for goods in the co-op stores. Contributions could also go to specific associations, like the North of England Temperance Festival Association, for instance.1174

––––––––– 1172 Minutes 354th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th October 1949. 1173 See appendix 2 a list Charitable Disbursements from Report and Statements of Accounts for year ending 1st September 1962. 1174 In 1882 a £25 donation to the Northumberland and Durham Miners Permanent Relief Fund was made. In 1884 it was resolved at the member meeting that the directors be empowered to grant coupons to the value of £10 per week for 13 weeks to the City Distress Relief Fund, the coupons could then be exchanged for goods in the society’s stores. In 1885 it was resolved that £20 per week for 10 weeks be paid to the City Distress Relief Fund. In 1887 it was resolved at a special general meeting of members that £100 be given for the relief of distress in Northumberland caused by the dispute in the coal trade. A challenge to the legality of this decision under the Rules was upheld and the money was withheld. A subsequent quarterly member meeting agreed, legally, that £200 be subscribed for the purpose. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1882, 1884, 1885 and 1887. In the beginning of the 1890s regular contributions were given to the North of England Temperance Festival Association, for example see Minutes 120th Quarterly General Meeting 29th April 1891 where a contribution of £10 was given to The North of England Temperance Festival Association. In 1893 at the January quarterly general meeting it was resolved that the board be empowered to

380 As we know by now, however, it is not entirely uncomplicated to get the member meeting to vote for a proposition. First all, there had to be someone on the inside of the society to make the proposition, and that person must have someone to second it. Moreover, a majority of members had to vote for the proposition if it was to be carried. This, in combination with the fact that an increasing portion of the surplus was already spoken for by other schemes, had a clear effect on the chances for outside groups to get funding from the Newcastle Society. The requests from outside groups for contributions petered out after the war. Up to that point, however, we find many votes on proposed donations. Often enough, the membership was divided into factions. We can see in the minutes that at least some members who were present at the meeting were also members of the associations applying for support, or supporters of the cause for which the donation was intended. This is what we would expect, considering the need to mobilise support in order to get a resolution passed by the member meeting. Sometimes there was an active opposition – evident, for instance, from amendments to stop a proposition for a particular donation.1175 Conversely, the proponents of the donation could also make their presence known by proposing amendments to raise a grant. Consider first the temperance issue. In the case of temperance, there is clear evidence that there were members of the Newcastle Society who were also members of temperance associations, and that they attempted to use their co- operative society to promote temperance. They tried, for example, to influence the development of the Newcastle Society by demanding that it should not sell alcoholic beverages.1176 But they also made an effort to secure funding for temperance organisations from the Newcastle Society. Thus, in the early 1890s, the Newcastle Society started to support The North of England Temperance Festival Association with donations. Yet, unless the temperance people mobilised its supporters, and made them go to member meetings, they could not be sure that the meetings would grant such contributions.1177 The imperative to mobilise holds for every outside group who wishes to influence decisions as to how the collective capital of the society should be used. This is not to say, however, that all decisions to allocate resources to outside groups were controversial and di-

contribute up to £200 to agencies seeking to relieve distress in the city and suburbs, a further £200 grant was made in April that year. Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1893. 1175 “The Chairman explained that the meeting had been called to give the members and opportunity of deciding what action should be taken by the Society with reference to the funds being organised for the relief of distress in Dublin and in South Wales.” Recommendation of Board was £100 to each of the funds. Amendment that £250 be contributed to each fund. The Amendment was carried. See Minutes Special General Meeting, Friday 7th November 1913. At the Quarterly Meeting in April 1896 Mr A. Boyd moved a motion that the Society should give a special grant to the Home of the Little Sisters of the Poor. An amendment was proposed; that Mr. Boyd’s motion be not enter- tained. Being put to the vote the amendment was carried. See Minutes 140th Quarterly General Me- eting, 29th April 1896. 1176 See Section 3.1, in this part. 1177 Resolved not to contribute with £10 to The North of England Temperance Festival Association. Minutes 129th Quarterly General Meeting 26th July 1893.

381 vided the membership into those who were for and those who were against. There are instances where the membership seems to have been in agreement that the society should step in and donate money for a cause. In July 1897 the Allied Engineering Trades Lock-out Committee sent a deputation to the quarterly meeting asking for a donation to assist locked-out workers who were not members of consumer co-operative societies. It was decided that a special meeting be arranged to resolve the question.1178 The special meeting took place in August, and representatives from the Allied Engineering Trades Lock- out Committee had the opportunity to explain the circumstances of the ongoing dispute and the need for financial support. After some discussion it was decided that the society should give the locked-out workers £100 per week for the ensuing five weeks.1179 Yet, the industrial conflict dragged out, and in October another special meeting was arranged. The proposition was once again that £100 should be donated to the locked-out workers for five weeks, but this time it was suggested that the money be taken from the society’s reserve fund. The majority of members were still in favour of supporting the workers, and the motion was carried. This time, however, there was an opposition. The decision was challenged, and the members had to vote again. The second vote, too, came out in favour of supporting the engineers – 239 voted for, 70 against – but the important thing here is that a section of the membership, albeit not strong enough to challenge the donation, now had a less favourable attitude. 1180 The continuation of the story indicates that what turned the critical members sour was not that they considered the support to the locked-out workers unjustified. Their dissent concerned, instead, how much money should be donated. The lock-out kept on, and a new special general meeting, held in January 1898, was called by 148 members. The members at the meeting were in agreement that the society should continue to support the workers. Yet, the motion which was moved and seconded cut the weekly ration in half: the society, it was stated, should take £300 out of the reserve fund, and grant £50 per week over six weeks. Those who had called the meeting were not satisfied with this solution. An amendment was moved and seconded that the society give a sum matching the amount subscribed by the 148 petitioning members to the share capital account, and that such a sum be appointed at the discretion of the board. The amendment received 204 votes, but the original proposition got 597 votes; the more modest donation thus had the support of the majority.1181 Contributions to different organisations and activities continued to come up on the agenda throughout the first half of the 20th century. During the miners’ strike in 1926, for example, the member meeting agreed to give 3,000 loaves of bread per week to the miners’ lodges within the trading area of the society. It was also resolved that miners’ bands coming to Newcastle to play and to collect money to the strike funds, should be given tea, i.e. a hot meal in the evening. In ––––––––– 1178 Minutes 145th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th July 1897. 1179 Minutes Special General Meeting, 11th August 1897. 1180 Minutes Special General Meeting, 11th October 1897. 1181 Minutes Special General Meeting, 12th January 1898.

382 the same year it was decided to contribute with gifts to groups organising Christmas events for children and to support a Christmas morning breakfast for 250 poor children.1182 In 1939 the society gave hospitality to 20 nurses and men on their return home from fighting with the International Brigade in Spain. When the Second World War had started, the society at first gave a contribution from the collective funds to the China Campaign Committee, the Free French Forces Association, and the Anglo Soviet Council. Soon, however, the method of assigning money shifted character: members were invited to donate part of their dividend to China and Russia by giving a special dividend number instead of their own when they were shopping. In December 1942, it was reported that the dividend number reserved for the Aid to China Fund had yielded £192, 8 shillings and 1 penny for October and November. The total amount credited to the China and Russia funds was, at this date, £1,304, 3 shillings and 4 pence. In January 1943 the dividend, supplemented by a donation from the member meeting, brought a total amount of £250 to the China Fund.1183 That same year, the board also proposed that the society should donate 1 shilling per member to the 1944 Freedom Fund, which would be used to build up the Co-operative movement in Europe after the War. The members agreed to such a donation.1184 All these examples show that outside organisations could indeed receive funding from the Newcastle Society, and that these contributions need not be channelled through the charitable purpose fund. Such contributions, however, became rare after the war. Yet, even if it was more difficult for outside groups to secure funding from the society, money is not the only relevant resource. A huge number of people shopped in the Newcastle Society’s stores, and its buildings and cars could also be a useful resource to outside groups. After the decision to support the branch of the Co-operative Party with funds in 1943, the society was also indirectly supporting the Labour Party. In 1945, the board allowed May Day procession posters to be exhibited on the society’s premises, and the Labour Party was allowed to put up their posters during the period of the General Elec- tion and to leave leaflets in the shops.1185 The visibility thus accorded to the La- bour Party is also a resource: they would be seen by everyone who went shopping in the stores. On the other hand, this also meant that members and customers in general could associate the society with the Labour Party. This was not to the liking of all members. In 1949, the board received complaints regarding La- bour Posters being exhibited in the stores in connection with the Local Council Elections. The board responded by deciding not to allow such posters. But their response was also subject to criticism. Other members protested and said that the decision was “…causing violent disturbances and protests from trades unions and Socialist Movements”.1186 The society nevertheless kept a low profile in the

––––––––– 1182 See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1926. 1183 See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1939, 1940, 1942 and 1943. 1184 Minutes 328th Quarterly General Meeting 28th April 1943. 1185 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1945. 1186 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1949.

383 next few years, and the board did not grant any political displays in the premises of the society. Even so, outside political organisations were not entirely shut out from avail- ing themselves of the premises. The West Newcastle Communist Party was allowed to rent rooms and halls owned by the society. This branch of the Commu- nist Party was even allowed to use the rooms on a Sunday, even if the chairman also pointed out that it would perhaps be wise to restrict the use of the society’s halls on Sundays to groups which would use them for religious purposes.1187 Outside groups could also request to borrow cars from the Newcastle Society. In 1955, the board declined a request from the Newcastle West Constituency La- bour Party to borrow the society’s cars for the upcoming general election. How- ever, the City Labour Party was allowed to use a lorry from the society on Race Sunday.1188 If the board was sometimes hesitant to offer their cars, this was once again due to the prospect of becoming associated with the Labour Party in the public mind: the society’s cars were labelled with the name of the society, and if they were used by political groups, these groups could be associated with the Newcastle Society. Yet, these strictures were lifted again in the late 1950s: in 1957, the board granted the Kenton Labour Party the right to put up posters on the poster sites of the society, provided that they pay a rental charge and return the society’s own posters after the use.1189 And in 1964 the Labour and Co- operative Parliamentary candidate for Newcastle East was allowed to use a car from the society during the period of the general election.1190 If we are to point out one recurring theme in the examples given above, we could perhaps say that the question which groups and activities should benefit from the resources of the society is intimately linked to the issue who the society should associate with and be associated with. But as we know by now, opinions could be divided on where resources should go. The society did not constitute one will and one voice. The possibility for groups or individuals promoting a particular interest to influence the decisions depended on the rules, the participants’ meeting skills, and how much support they could drum up. Our final example from the Newcastle Society touches on a slightly different issue, namely which groups counted as outside groups. It is taken from the quarterly meeting in January 1953. At this meeting Mrs Toward wished to know why outside organisations – her term, not mine – were charged 8 shillings for Christ- mas dinner, probably at the Society Café, when co-operative organisations only paid 7 shillings. The co-operative organisations she is referring to coincide with what we have called co-operative forums. Her complaint may seem strange at first. Why should the Newcastle Society give a discount to any organisation? But Toward has a more limited group of organisations in mind. They were organisa- ––––––––– 1187 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1949. In agreeing to a letting of a Guild Room on two Sun- days it was resolved that the group booking the room be told that the board were not willing to allow entertainment and singing on Sundays and that the room must be used purely for meeting. Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1954. 1188 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1955. 1189 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1957. 1190 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1964.

384 tions which, admittedly, did not count among the co-operative forums, but whose members were also members of the Newcastle Society. This was her point: no matter which organisation they belonged to, they were all members of the society. The chairman had no wish to initiate a discussion at the member meeting about which organisations should be regarded as inside versus outside, so he advised Mrs Toward, in line with Rule 28, to put her complaint in writing and then let the board consider the matter.1191 The concrete issue at stake here is perhaps of minor importance, but the example nevertheless gives us a sense of where the line was drawn between inside and outside groups. In fact, the chairman’s response, to remove the issue from the member meeting, may be an indication that he foresaw the complications of opening up this issue for discussion. Let us now turn to Solidar and address the question whether this society applied any of its collective resources to groups and activities outside of the co- operative sphere. To begin with, Solidar never established anything like a charitable purpose fund. With the exception of the relief fund for members, the closest thing to a charitable purpose fund was the support that the society gave to the unemployed. In 1911, it was decided that 200 kronor of the surplus should go to the Association of the Unemployed.1192 No further money was given to this association in the following years. But in the 1920s, when unemployment figures rose, Solidar started to give bread to the unemployed via the Association of the Unemployed. Between 1921 and 1925, Solidar gave bread to the unemployed for nearly 22,000 kronor, and during the years 1926 and 1927, the society gave bread, groceries, meat, and meat products for the sum of nearly 20,000 kronor. In 1928, the society started to give the unemployed discounts instead, and by 1932 the society had given the unemployed discounts to the value of nearly 108,000 kronor. Until 1935, it is also mentioned in the annual reports that Solidar helps the unemployed, but the sums are not specified.1193 These were not the only donations which Solidar made to outside groups. Be- fore we go into them, however, we must make a few remarks on the conditions for, and the procedures of, such allocation decisions. When the society approved of KF’s model rules in 1910, the members of Solidar also agreed to a certain application of the surplus of the society. The large minimum sums going to the reserve fund and the education fund could not be negotiated. No decision by the member meeting could reduce those sums, but the meeting could add to the sums if it so wished. The decision procedure was as follows. The board of Solidar prepared a suggestion for the distribution of the surplus, which was presented in the annual report. It was then up to the annual meeting to approve or disapprove of their suggested distribution. Before 1925 this decision was taken by the annual member meeting, after 1925 by the annual society meeting. The lion’s share of the surplus was already spoken for when the suggestion reached the meeting. Apart from the mandatory proportions assigned to education and reserves, the surplus ––––––––– 1191 Minutes 367th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th January 1953. 1192 Protokoll fört vid möte med andelsägarna 12/3 1911. 1193 See Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1912 to 1935 in FKFS 1907-1940.

385 was depleted by tax, dividend money, and interest on capital. As Table 3 below reveals, there were also smaller sums left for the annual member meeting – later the annual society meeting – to dispose more freely of. It was this somewhat di- minutive resource that members could choose to allocate to outside organisations. Table 3. Application of surplus – sums left to the Annual Meeting to dispose of, Solidar 1913-1952 Year Sums left to the Annual Meet- Year Sums left to the Annual Meeting ing to decide on to decide on 1913 1,049 1933 - 1914 1,021 1934 6,294 1915 1,885 1935 9,792 1916 1,852 1936 11,961 1917 2,372 1937 19,656 1918 3,131 1938 34,641 1919 2,241 1939 6,002 1920 2,824 1940 6,843 1921 2,635 1941 17,676 1922 2,888 1942 2,465 1923 3,150 1943 12,625 1924 3,210 1944 9,458 1925 4,483 1945 9,601 1926 5,175 1946 11,661 1927 3,595 1947 8,983 1928 4,155 1948 4,884 1929 4,896 1949 8,445 1930 6,823 1950 14,210 1931 8,516 1951 1,165 1932 7,900 1952 - Table 3 is based on figures presented in the annual reports under the heading Nettoöver- skottets fördelning (Application of Surplus). Before the question reached the annual meeting, the annual report was presented and discussed at all district meetings. Hence, members at these meetings could also come with suggestions as to what the sums could be used for. They did not have to come up with a proposition all by themselves. The board usually had suggestions as to what ends the remaining sums should be distributed to. A brief glance at their recommendations shows that outside organisations competed with other uses for this resource. In 1925, the recommendation was that the sum should go to the surplus regulation fund (överskottregleringsfonden). From 1926 to 1929, the board recommended that the sum should go to the relief fund. From 1930 to 1932, and from 1934 to 1951, their recommendation was that the money be allocated to the reserve fund.1194 Yet, the remainder which the annual meeting disposed of was not the only source of funding for outside groups. In the early days, the board would include donations to specific organisations and activities in their general suggestion for ––––––––– 1194 See comments after the presentation of Nettoöverskottets fördelning (Application of Surplus) in the Annual Reports 1928 to 1952, this kind of comment is missing in 1948. FKFS 1907-1940. FKFS 1941-1949. FKFS 1950-1960.

386 the distribution of the surplus. From 1912 to the end of the 1920s, we thus find that Solidar applied sums from the surplus to the library and reading room of the local branch of the SAP, to ABF, and to Sagostundsrörelsen, a socialist alternative to the Church’s Sunday schools. These three outside organisations thus had their own slots in the balance sheet, small, to be sure, but slots nevertheless (see Appendix 3). The annual meeting was free to allocate more money to the pre- established slots from the resource at its disposal, but the organisations had regular funding from another source. The contributions to the library and reading room ended in 1928. The other two activities continued to receive contributions, but they were taken from the working capital, which means that the board could make a decision without presenting it to the annual society meeting first. Until 1938, it is stated in the annual reports that donations had been granted from the working capital to ABF, Sagostundsrörelsen, and to the unemployed. Sagos- tundsrörelsen disappears from the accounts in 1938, but the comment that ABF and the unemployed receive contributions from the working capital remains until 1947.1195 Let us, however, go back to the district meetings. We find, then, that members in the countryside districts ask for contributions to Sagostunden’s and ABF’s activities in their community. In such cases, the members were told to encourage these organisations to write to the board of Solidar and request a grant.1196 There was a good chance that these particular organisations would get the grants they applied for, and members who were involved in the other organisations appreciated the financial support. At a district meeting in Lomma in 1940, for instance, we hear a member conveying ABF´s appreciation for the contribution they had received on their application to the board of Solidar.1197 As we have already noted, the district meetings could also make suggestions as to the distribution of those sums which the annual society meeting could decide upon. The board’s suggestion for the use of this resource was already printed in the annual report, and the district meeting was an arena for proposing additional or alternative uses before the matter went on to the annual society meeting. In order to catch a glimpse of the contents and dynamics of this procedure, we will turn to a few examples from annual society and district meetings. At the annual society meeting in 1928, Axel Grankvist proposed that 500 kro- nor should be donated to the unemployed. Karl Ny and Tage Nilsson supported Grankvist’s proposition. The board had proposed that the whole sum should be transferred to the relief fund. Now, four other speakers at the meeting –Emil Ols- son, the chief executive, Axel Lindskog, John Sörensson, and Adolf Lind – announced that they for their part supported the board. The meeting voted for the

––––––––– 1195 See comments after the presentation of Nettoöverskottets fördelning (Application of Surplus) in the Annual Reports 1928 to 1947, in FKFS 1907-1940. FKFS 1941-1949. 1196 Mr K. Öman and Mr Frey ask the board to remember Sagostundsrörelsen in Arlöv when the surplus is distributed. The representative from the board tell them that the board of Sagostundsrörelsen in Arlöv ought to write to Solidar and ask for a contribution. Protokoll distrikt 10 Arlöv, 26/3 1933. 1197 Protokoll distrikt 8 Lomma, 25/3 1940.

387 board’s suggestion.1198 This was indeed the usual outcome, as the following examples will show. At a district meeting in 1933, Mr E. Andersson suggested that part of the surplus should be used for scholarships to employees of Solidar to go abroad on study tours. Herman Ericsson, the director, opposed the suggestion, and the meeting voted for the original proposal of the board.1199 Strictly speaking, the district meeting had no power to vote in such matters, but taking a vote was a way of sending a message to the board, and presumably also to their representatives on the member council. In the end, the annual society meeting voted for the board’s suggestion, i.e. that the sum left for the meeting to decide on should be distributed to the reserve fund, and this was done without any discussion.1200 Next, we will move on to the district meeting in Limhamn in 1935, where Mr Jöns Persson opposed the board's suggestion that 10,000 kronor should be distributed to the Vacation Fund for Housewives. His objections had both supporters and opponents at the meeting. However, the chief executive settled the question by explaining the purpose of the relatively new fund, and the meeting voted in accordance with the board's suggestion.1201 At the annual society meeting that year, nobody protested against the board’s proposal. It was decided that the small sum remaining, after the 10,000 kronor had been deducted, should be transferred to the reserve fund.1202 In 1938, the residual left to the disposal of the annual society meeting was un- usually large, 34,641 kronor. The board proposed that Solidar should contribute 500 kronor to the King’s Jubilee Fund, and that the rest would go to the reserve fund. Once again, other suggestions came up at the district meetings. At the district meeting in District 3, one member proposed that the contribution to the King’s Jubilee fund should be doubled, but nobody supported that proposal.1203 Another suggestion concerned the Spanish Committee, which was raising funds for humanitarian relief to inhabitants in Spain suffering from the Civil War. The association had decided not to get involved in politics, but to concentrate instead on collecting sums to buy food, clothing, and medicine.1204 At the district meeting of Solidar in Vellinge, a small community just south of Malmö, Karl Jönsson argued that 10,000 kronor should be donated to the Spanish Committee. He received support from the other members at the district meeting.1205 Yet, when the annual society meeting was held in 1938, there was no discussion on this matter, and the decision was to go with the board’s suggestion.1206

––––––––– 1198 Protokoll föreningsstämman, 30/4 1928. 1199 Protokoll distrikt 2 i Malmö, 29/3 1933. 1200 Protokoll föreningsstämman, 24/4 1933. 1201 Protokoll distrikt 6 Limhamn, 25/3 1935. 1202 Protokoll föreningsstämman, 29/4 1935. 1203 Protokoll distrikt 3 i Malmö, 28/2 1938. 1204 Andersson Jennie, Malmö Spanienkommitté, en solidaritetens prövning, (1998), magisteruppsats, Historiska institutionen, Lunds universitet, unpublished, pp. 25-26, 34-35. 1205 Protokoll distrikt 9 Vellinge, 25/3 1938. 1206 Protokoll föreningsstämman, 28/4 1938.

388 The examples show that the board’s suggestions were likely to be accepted, even for that residual part of the surplus which was left to the discretion of the annual society meeting. Between 1940 and 1947, the board uniformly recommended that this sum should go to the reserve fund. The members were assured, that, should the annual society meeting find some cause to recommend, the board would take care of it with money taken from the working capital.1207 The number of requests and suggestions at district meetings decrease in the 1940s. As Table 2 reveals, there was no unspecified sum left for the annual society meeting to decide on after 1952. All decisions concerning donations to outside groups were, from now on, taken by the board. Thus, the board successively took over the task of determining which groups and activities should receive contributions from Solidar. The board continued, for instance, to contribute to different activities for the benefit of children and young people from families of small means. One example of this is Barnen till havet – an organisation providing city children with the opportunity to get a seaside holiday – which received regular contributions from Solidar. Olle Svenning, the son of a famous SAP politician in Malmö, remembers Solidar as one of many reliable organisations providing funding for this activity.1208 The board of Solidar had much more room to manoeuvre than the board of the Newcastle Society when making decisions on who to support and who not to support. However, the Solidar’s board was also tied by previous decisions. The support to ABF in Malmö, and the fixed proportion of the surplus applied to educational and propaganda purposes, illustrate this. Even so, the board would also face requests from other organisations, and the question is according to what principles they should decide in those cases. A further example provides us with a clue. At a board meeting in 1937, there was a request from Östra Sommarsta- den, an allotment area in Malmö, asking for a contribution 1,000 kronor to build a pond where children could play while the housewives took a rest. They argued that Solidar already gave contributions to housewives in need of a vacation, and that, by granting them the money they applied for, they would contribute to the same cause. The directors did not agree and told the secretary to write to this association that Solidar could not grant a request which did not benefit all the member of the society. Moreover, they added, the sums given to housewives came from a fund designed exclusively for that purpose. This is at least an indication of how the board adjudicated between rival claims on the society’s resources: the criterion they invoked was that the organisation or activity should benefit all members of the society. Whether this principle was actually applied in all cases is difficult to say. At the same meeting, a request from a football club for 150 kronor to be used as prize money was granted, which does not seem to be in line with the general principle. It may be that it was only applied when larger sums were asked for.1209 ––––––––– 1207 See comments after the presentation of Nettoöverskottets fördelning (Application of Surplus) in the Annual Reports 1940 to 1947. FKFS 1907-1940. FKFS 1941-1949. 1208 Svenning Olle, Lojaliteter, min far(s), (1995), Fischer & Co, Stockholm, p. 117. 1209 Protokoll styrelsemöte 3/5 1937.

389 Finally, we must say a few words about an example which is rather difficult to fit into the outside-inside dichotomy. In the annual report from 1960 we find that Solidar had participated in the national co-operative campaign called Utan grän- ser (Without boundaries). The co-operative organisation Utan Gränser was initiated by KF in 1957. It was, and still is, an organisation which collects money for co-operative development in the Third World.1210 During the campaign in 1960, Solidar arranged several special events together with the local trade unions (Malmö FCO), raising nearly 30,000 kronor.1211 In the following year, the society introduced a new campaign, where members were encouraged to contribute one Swedish krona when they did their shopping and when they participated in other events. The annual report contains no clear description of the details of the campaign. But we do find out that it had yielded nearly 50,000 kronor, and that another 13,000 kronor had been collected at the final rally through a coffee raf- fle.1212 In 1964, the annual report informs us that the society had once again changed its collection strategy: members could choose to give part of their dividend to Utan Gränser. In this way, members of Solidar raised sums ranging between 45,000 and 150,000 kronor annually from 1964 to 1969.1213 The contributions to Utan Gränser are interesting in several respects. They did not, strictly speaking, go to activities outside the co-operative organisations. They were donations to co-operative activities in the Third World. By the end of the 1960s, the old co-operative organisations in Sweden were, in other words, supporting the build-up of co-operative ventures in the Third World. We have noted earlier that established co-operative societies were rather sceptical of new co-operative ventures in their own locality. But the new organisations sponsored through the contributions from Utan Gränser were built up in countries far away. And representatives from the old co-operative organisations in Sweden were accorded an instrumental role in this build-up, for their recommendations were used as a guideline. The new co-operatives, in other words, were not upstarts challenging a long-standing understanding of what co-operation should be. The support to Utan gränser does not readily fit our neat distinction between outside and inside groups. It belongs within the co-operative sphere, but it is not part of the society itself. Moreover, the donations to Utan gränser were neither decided by the board nor voted on at the annual society meeting. They were the result of the members’ individual choices to contribute from their dividend or in other ways. Instead of going further into deviations and atypical examples we should, however, get back to our main argument in this chapter, and see how it relates to ––––––––– 1210 Kooperativ krönika 1812-1970, Kooperativ Information nr 4 1983, p. 31. 1211 Förvaltningsrådets, styrelsend och revisiorernas berättelser över verksamheten 1960, p. 11, in FKFS 1950-1960. 1212 Verksamheten 1961 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 11. 1213 See Verksamhetsberättelse 1964 Solidar, p. 22. Verksamhetsberättelser 1965 Konsum – Solidar – Domus, p. 16. Verksamhetsberättelser 1966 Konsum – Solidar – Domus, p. 11. Verksamhetsberät- telser 1967 Konsum Domus Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 6. Verksamhetsberättelse 1968, Kon- sumentföreningen Solidar, p. 14. Verksamheten 1969 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 7. Verk- samheten 1969 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 10.

390 the chapter we are just about to begin. Our focus here has been on the use of the surplus. The surplus generated by our two co-operative societies creates a resource which must be distributed some way or the other. Yet, the surplus is but a by-product of the co-operative business, and most of the society’s resources go into maintaining and developing service in the retail sector. This is, after all, what the organisations do, and this is what members join up to get. The distribution of surplus is indeed an important and potentially contentious issue, and we have taken pains both to charter the determinants shaping the conflict arena and to follow the concrete disagreements and their solutions. But surplus can not be divorced from the business which generates it, and our account must cover this area as well. There are two reasons for this, one causal and one analytical. First, decisions over dividend, over prices and selection, and over the build-up and rationalisation of services, affect how much surplus there will be to distribute. Members’ demands on services, and the business decisions taken by the societies, are causally related to the magnitude of the surplus. Second, an analysis of this part of the societies’ activities will not just provide us with more of the same. The member meeting in the Newcastle Society had a considerable influence over the conditions of management. In Solidar, on the other hand, the rules took care of a great many distribution issues, and management and board had the authority to decide on a comprehensive set of issues. The annual society meeting rather functioned as an advisory forum, and the member council meetings and district meetings even more so. The consequences of this difference for the distribution of the surplus have been chartered in this chapter, but, as we will see, the same organisational patterns yield somewhat different results in relation to demands on services. Moreover, members’ demands take on a dual character in this connection. On the one hand they can be seen as a struggle about what the society should provide; on the other hand, they are a source of information, a privileged channel of communication, which facilitates for the society to develop adequate services. For all these reasons, we will devote the next chapter to how consumer demand was channelled in the two societies.

3. Members’ demands on the co-operative services – channelling consumer demand If members of the Newcastle Society and Solidar had followed the rules to the letter, we would not have been able to find out very much about the members’ demands on the retail services of the societies. Fortunately, for our inquiry at least, the membership was a disobedient lot in this respect. According to the rules of the Newcastle Society, complaints were supposed to be sent to the board, where they ended up in the complaint book. The idea was to relieve the meetings of detailed discussions about particular goods and services. Many members did send their complaints and suggestions to the board, but they also presented their opinions at quarterly meetings. Solidar had similar rules to prevent the annual meetings from being swamped by complaints. Before 1925 the rules instructed the members of Solidar to write

391 to the board if they had any complaints. Only if they were not pleased with the action of the board could they bring the matter up at the following member meeting. When the new system, with district meetings and a member council, was introduced in 1925, the new rules laid down that members should either notify their representatives in the member council or contact the registered office if they had any complaints. The district meetings, member council meetings, and annual society meetings were thus off limits for complaints about goods and services – according to the rules, that is. Yet, the minutes from districts meetings are filled with such comments and remarks, so members were apparently happy to disregard the rules. This was perhaps to be expected. Apart from the store, the district meeting was one of the places where members had the opportunity to speak face to face with those who could do something about the things they wanted to change. Hence, the quarterly meetings in Newcastle, and the district meetings of Soli- dar, became forums where members ventilated their demands and suggestions for the retail services of their respective societies. Their complaints were also brought to the attention of the directors in other ways, either via correspondence or in interviews with members. These are the data sources which we will draw upon in this chapter. But they were also sources of information for the directors. In Albert Hirschman’s terminology, we can say that the complaints of the members represent voice, involvement, and – in most cases – loyalty.1214 Hirschman’s point is that, in a sense, complaining members are an asset to an organisation. Dissatisfied customers can do either of two things: forward their complaints to the organisation, and thereby attempt to improve the service, or take their business elsewhere. In the latter case, when customers have chosen exit, receding sales figures will alert the organisation that something is amiss, but it will have no information on why the customers are leaving. If, on the other hand, the customers use voice rather than exit, the organisation gets an idea of what it would take to keep them. This is why voice, also when it is a complaint, can be seen as a sign of involvement and as a positive form of loyalty. As we shall see, many of the complaints in our two societies ended with suggestions for improvements. Com- plaints and suggestions are both signs that members are displeased and that they care about the development of their society.1215 Had the complaining members ––––––––– 1214 Hirschman Albert O., Exit, Voice and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms, Organisations, and States, (1970), Harvard University Press, Cambridge. Hirschman Albert O., Shifting Involve- ments, (1982), Martin Robertson, Oxford. 1215 Yohanen Stryjan has discussed Hirschman’s concepts exit, voice, involvement and loyalty in relation to workers’ co-operatives. He relates to Hirschman’s discussion about how both external and internal constraints matter for the agents’ course of action, and in doing so, he also qualifies the concepts voice and loyalty in the following way: “Voice, generally a more costly alternative, will be resorted to first after exit is excluded as inconceivable, impracticable, or ineffective. Thresholds to exit may then be posed by external constraints: technical, organizational, or demographical. But it is intuitively clear that constraints may also be internally lodge (Hirschman, 1970:98). Loyalty, a third concept suggested by Hirschman, is precisely that: an internalized threshold to exit, shifting preferences to voice in cases in which exit would have appeared the easier way to the external ob- server.” Stryjan Yohanan, “Organizations and their members, members and their organizations:

392 not cared, they could have chosen the alternative of exit, i.e. shopped somewhere else or withdrawn their membership. This formulation also indicates, however, that exit has a dual meaning in consumer co-operative societies. Their clientele are both members and shoppers. Consequently, there are two types of exit: withdrawal of membership and reluctance to shop in the society’s stores. Our focus in this chapter will be on voice, on members’ complaints and suggestions for the retail services. Part of the reason for this is that the democratic organisation of consumer co-operative societies created fecund opportunities for the societies to acquire knowledge of member demand long before the age of the market survey. The ubiquitous possibility of voice, also in relation to goods and services, is one of the peculiarities of consumer co-operatives. What we want to know is to what extent the members made use of this option, what they demanded, and how rival or uniform claims on the extent and quality of services and goods were dealt with. We want to know how the evolving organisational structures in the two societies respond to, and create conditions for, voice within the membership. In relation to this task, exit is less important to consider. That would also be far more difficult. Exit, in the form of withdrawn membership, cannot be studied directly. The member figures generally only reveal changes in the total number of members from one year to the next. They do not give the exact figures of how many new members joined and how many withdrew their membership. More importantly, net increases and decreases remain silent as to the reason behind withdrawals. There is no way of telling from these figures whether withdrawals are due to dissatisfaction with the society, deaths, or a decision to move to another town. Sometimes, when member figures clearly point downwards, we can see that something is happening, but such instances of ‘mass exodus’ are presumably not typical of exit processes, and have more to do with our previous discussion of trust and runs on the co-op. The situation is similar, or worse, with the other variety of exit. Turnover figures give a general idea of business developments, but receding sales figures are not a reliable indication that members have chosen exit. What we can say, however, is that there was a conscious effort to co-ordinate membership with shopping. Our discussion of the rights and duties of members in Part Two showed that, for a long time, the boards of the two societies had the possibility to exclude members who did not contribute economically by shopping in the stores, and could deny these members interest on their share capital. Members who did not contribute economically, and who had not actively con-

towards a theory of organizational reproduction”, in Studies in Action and Enterprise, 1990:1, Stockholm University department of Business, Stockholm, pp. 10-11. See also Miettinen Antti, In- stitutional Characteristics of Co-operatives Providing Welfare Services: Theoretical Study of Co- operatives and their Members, Academic Dissertations at the Department of Sociology, Umeå Uni- versity, No 15, 2000, section 2.3 Theories of Behavior of Members. In this section Miettinen discuss Stryjan’s use and development of Hischman’s theory.

393 tacted the society to say that they wished to remain members, were called paper members in the annual reports of Solidar in the 1920s and 1930s.1216 Yet, the ups and downs of member and turnover figures nevertheless add to our overall picture of the two societies. They supplement our description of long- term service development from Part Two, and they provide a background to our main concern here, i.e. to the investigation of voice within the membership in relation to retail services. And by piecing together this information with the figures for share and loan capital, we can at least get a few ideas about major exit flows. When the ups and downs in member, turnover, and share and loan capital figures coincide, that is a sign of large-scale exit processes. So by providing background information on business performance and on the influx of members, we also get a basis for asking questions about the reasons for member exit. This is what we will do next, starting with the Newcastle Society. Reliable yearly figures from the Newcastle Society are not available until 1872. They arrive just in time to allow us to capture an early exit flow. In the second half of the 1870s, there is a clear indication that members are “voting with their feet”. Between 1876 and 1879 there is a 25 per cent drop in turnover, and member figures fell from 3,567 in 1876 to 2,838 in 1878. Member figures did not recover and surpass the level in 1876 until the beginning of the 1880s. The withdrawal of membership between 1876 and 1878 coincided with a decrease in share capital by nearly £3,700. Such a drop in shares had a significant effect, for the total share capital in 1876 was £18,000. So, were these exits occasioned by members being dissatisfied with the services of their society, or did they leave for other reasons? There is one indication that members were displeased with the services of their society. To detect it, however, we have to go beyond brute figures, and instead consult the July Quarterly Report from 1978, which reveals that members had chosen to buy their clothes and shoes in other stores. In the report, members were urged to inspect the stocks and prices in the society’s drapery, tailoring, and boots and shoe departments before they went elsewhere to buy such goods. The directors ensured members that both they and the society would benefit if they would follow that recommendation.1217 However, it is not likely that members withdrew their membership only because they were displeased with the selection in these departments. To understand the fall in member and share figures we have to look for other explanations. Our best candidate is an exogenous factor: an event which shook confidence in co-operative businesses – both in the region and in the country as a whole – in the middle of the 1870s. This event was the failure of the Ouseburn Engineering Works, and the liquidation of The Industrial Bank.

––––––––– 1216 The term “pappersmedlemmar” (paper members) can be found in the annual reports in 1919 and from 1926 to 1936, see FKFS 1907-1940. 1217 See The Newcastle upon Tyne Co-operative Society Report and Statements of Accounts Quarter ending July 2nd 1878, inserted in 120/5 Quarterly and Board Meeting Minutes Book 11 September 1877 – 1 February 1879, Tyne & Wear Archive.

394 The Ouseburn Engineering Works was a workers’ co-operative, established in the wake of the Strike for the Nine Hours’ Day in 1871. This strike lasted for twenty weeks, a period during which many members of the Newcastle Society withdrew some or all of their share capital, since they needed it to cover their loss of income.1218 We do not have data on this early rush to withdraw capital, and our concern is rather with another effect of the strike: the establishment of the Ouseburn Works was an attempt to start a workers’ co-operative where nobody would work for more than nine hours a day. To raise capital for this co- operative, and for other similar co-operative ventures, Dr. J. H. Rutherford, a Wesleyan preacher who propagated for Co-operation, started the Industrial Bank. Consumer co-operatives all over Britain, but particularly in the North East, bought shares in the Ouseburn Works and deposited some of their funds in this bank. The problem was that the Ouseburn Works failed in 1875, which led to the bankruptcy of the Industrial Bank in the following year. All this brought economic losses for the consumer co-operative societies and for trade unions which had invested in these ventures. The Newcastle Society was one of the societies that lost sums because of the bankruptcy.1219 It is difficult to say whether these events were the main causes behind the withdrawals of membership between 1876 and 1879. The members were informed of the losses at the member meetings, but there are no critical comments noted in the minutes. It is most likely, however, that the events had an influence on some members’ decision to withdraw their membership.1220 Members were anxious that they may lose their savings, and investing in a co-operative society had proved to be fraught with risks. It is also likely that some members had to withdraw their capital. At least, that is, if they lost their jobs in connection with the failure of the Ouseburn Works, or if they lost capital which they had invested in the works or in the Industrial Bank. Let us now shift the focus to long-term developments. When we do so, we find no clear-cut equivalents of the exit flow during 1870s, when all figures took a temporary dip. The general trend is that member figures increase, albeit at different rates and with some small exceptions. When it comes to turnover, the most conspicuous feature of these figures is that they take off in a grand style immediately after the Second World War. Let us, however, present the figures before we comment on them in more detail.

––––––––– 1218 A Brief Account…, (1886), p. 9. Both board and member meeting minutes from the period July 1869 to October 1872 are missing, which means that we only have the account in the jubilee history to go by. 1219 A Brief Account…, (1886), p. 11-12. Darvill (1954), p. 103-107. Cole (1945), p. 163-165. Bon- ner (1970[1961]), p.107. 1220 Trade unions and co-operative societies including the Newcastle Society lost some of their invested money but most of all they lost confidence in productive co-operative ventures. Cole, (1947), pp. 163-165. The Members of the Newcastle Society were informed about the loss that the Society would make in connection with the Liquidation of the Industrial Bank. The Society had £2,054 deposited in the Bank but would only lose the fifty shares of £5 each and it would not affect the affairs of the Society. See Minutes Special Meeting 11th October 1876. See also Minutes Com- mittee Meeting 24th October 1876 and Minutes Committee Meeting 6th March 1877.

395 Chart 9. Turnover: The newcastle Society 1872-1968

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Sums indexed by 1872 prices Source chart 9: Between 1872 and 1878 Congress Proceedings/Congress Report “Bird’s- eye View of Four Hundred (76, 72, and 70) Co-operative Societies”. Between 1879 and 1969 Return of Trade Northern Section. Both Congress Proceedings/Congress Report and Return of Trade consists of annual statistics sent to the Co-operative Union.

Chart 10. Members: The Newcastle Society 1872-1968

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YEAR Source chart 10: Between 1872 and 1878 Congress Proceedings/Congress Report “Bird’s-eye View of Four Hundred (76, 72, and 70) Co-operative Societies”. Between 1879 and 1969 Return of Trade Northern Section. Both Congress Proceedings/Congress Report and Return of Trade consists of annual statistics sent to the Co-operative Union. We will begin with a couple of remarks on the 1910s, when there was a considerable increase in both turnover and members. There is one small dip in the member figures in 1918 but it is most likely that this drop, too, was an effect of exogenous factors. First, trading conditions had been difficult the previous

396 year.1221 Second, part of the decrease could be due to the fact that not all soldiers made it back from the war, and that they were removed from the ledgers in 1918. Generally, however, member figures roughly correspond to increases in turnover. That relation is cut off in the 1920s. Member figures continue to rise, and share capital increases slightly, but for a drop in 1923. Yet, turnover wavers and goes down. The decade began with a depression which took its toll on the turnover figures in 1921. That year, the average weekly sales decreased by some £9,000 compared with the year before. Members did not leave the society, but they could not afford too buy as much.1222 This trend more or less lasted throughout the decade. It may appear strange, at first blush, that turnover failed to increase in the 1920s, considering that this period saw a considerable expansion in the number of branches. In order to make sense of this, we must remind ourselves of the strategy behind the build-up of branches. Branches were opened in areas where the society already had many members. These members had shopped in the society’s stores before. To put it concisely, the establishment of branches, and the introduction of new services, catered to the needs of those who were already members. When the web of branches became more fine-meshed, membership in the Newcastle Society became an option also for groups of people who had not considered becoming members before, so branch build-up had a meaning in the long run. In the short run, however, there was not necessarily an impact on turnover, especially if times were bad. From 1934 to 1939 turnover figures were stabilised, but the difference between long-term and short-term effects of society expansion is visible here as well. The society opened its new emporium in Newgate Street in 1932. Seen in this light, stable turnover figures are a sign that the introduction of this modern department store did not make a considerable difference for sales, at least not immediately. The absence of an increase in turnover during the inter-war period was most likely due to unemployment in the city. Increasing competition from the regional multiples, and from the newer multiple department stores presented in Part Two, surely also affected the business situation for the society. Yet, during this time, the Newcastle Society had built up an infrastructure of branches, stores, and services, and these investments came in handy in the following more successful decades. Throughout the 1940s and 1950s turnover figures increased, and so did the member figures. From the end of the 1930s and throughout the Second World War, many new households registered with the society, so as to be able to buy the products to which they were entitled through the rationing scheme. Accord- ing to the calculations of the society, over half of the residents in Newcastle were ––––––––– 1221 The difficult trading conditions as to supply and distribution is commented in the publication Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services, (1951), p. 14. Additionally, as we shall see below there were displeased members who had opinions about how the Society managed the difficult times with rising prices and problems with supplies. See Section 3.3, in this part. 1222 Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services, (1951), p. 15.

397 registered with the society two years after the war had ended.1223 The society responded to this increase by following through with its old strategy: the second half of the 1940s and the 1950s brought a considerable expansion in services, branches, and stores. In terms of turnover and member figures, the immediate Post-War period was thus very successful for the society. It was only in the 1960s that member and turnover figures started to fluctuate again. We have touched upon the effects of industrial decline before – e.g. in Section 1.1 in this part – and will not go into it again. It suffices to note what the chart tells us, namely that there were falling sales in 1962, 1964, 1967, and 1968. The corresponding figures for 1969 and 1970 have been omitted from the chart. Had they been included, they would have stretched the chart upwards, for in 1969 both turnover and member figures increased significantly. This sudden rise was due to the amalgamation with the Walker Society. There was another leap in 1970, when the Newcastle Society joined the newly formed North Eastern Co-operative Society. There is one odd- ity here, however, which deserves a comment. When the decision had been taken to join the North Eastern Co-operative Society, member figures decreased by nearly 4,000. This could be a sign that members were displeased with the decision. But there are also other possible explanations. Prior to the amalgamation it is likely that a thorough survey of the member ledger was made, removing any deceased members from the ledger. But there were also members who did not agree with the decision to join the North Eastern Society and therefore left the society.1224 In sum, our review of member and turnover figures do not give clear indications as to the extent of, and reasons for, exit. Our presentation of the ups and downs in these figures can nevertheless serve as a backdrop for our further investigation into the members’ complaints and suggestions. What they also tell us is that the Newcastle Society successively grew into a significant business. We get a sense of how significant it was if we compare member figures with population figures. The statement that over half of the population in Newcastle was registered with the society right after the Second World War had ended indicates that, by that time, the society had gained a prominent position. However, it took some time before the society became one of the most prominent retailers in the city. In 1881, when the society had recovered from the drop in turnover and member figures during the second half of the 1870s, only 3 per cent of the inhabitants in the Newcastle upon Tyne Registered District1225 were members. In 1901 that proportion had increased to 8 per cent, but it was not until the sharp rise in member figures from 1914 to 1926 that a significant part of the population had be-

––––––––– 1223 Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services, (1951), p. 19. 1224 Mellor, (1980), pp. 291-337. 1225 The Newcastle upon Tyne Registered District included the districts Westgate, Elswick, Jesmond, Heaton, and Byker, i.e what constituted the City of Newcastle from 1830.

398 come members.1226 In 1920, nearly every fifth household in Newcastle shopped at the Co-op, which means that many people were familiar with it, even though they perhaps could not afford to shop as much as they wanted. Then there was the rise in membership figures after the Second World War. It can best be explained as a combination of necessity and improved service. On the one hand, the lasting rationing scheme implied that customers had to register with a particular retailer and many chose the Co-op; on the other hand, the Co-op was, in the middle of the 1940s, a major business with a large infrastructure. In any case, that rise forced the proportion up further. Right before the member figures levelled out in the early 1960s, 44 per cent of the households in the city were members. These figures leave us in no doubt that the Newcastle Society had reached a significant position in the retail trade of the city.1227 Let us now turn to Solidar, and see how their figures compare to those of the Newcastle Society. If it was difficult, in the case of the Newcastle Society, to use member and turnover figures to say something about exiting members, and this is even more so in Solidar. There simply were no significant drops in the member and turnover figures of Solidar during the period of our inquiry. The slight drop in 1967, commented on in the annual report from that year, is hardly noticeable in the turnover chart below. Chart 11. Turnover: Solidar 1908-1970

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YEAR Source chart 11: Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1908 to 1923 Kooperativa Bage- riföreningen Solidar, Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1924 to 1952 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Styrelsens, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser 1953 to 1955 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1956 to 1960 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1960 to 1986 Konsumentföreningen Solidar.

––––––––– 1226 Population figures taken from table II Population of Newcastle and growth rates, 1700-1911, in Barke in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001), p. 136. 1227 Population figures 1920: 275,009, and 1960: 269,678 taken from Census of Population 1920- 1990, HMSO, London.

399 Chart 12. Members: Solidar 1908-1970

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Number of members Number 0 1908 1916 1924 1932 1940 1948 1956 1964 1912 1920 1928 1936 1944 1952 1960 1968

YEAR Source chart 12: Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1908 to 1923 Kooperativa Bage- riföreningen Solidar, Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1924 to 1952 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Styrelsens, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser 1953 to 1955 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1956 to 1960 Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar, Verksamhetsberättelser 1960 to 1986 Konsumentföreningen Solidar. These member figures make it clear that Solidar never experienced a mass exodus. On the contrary, the general pattern – from 1923 to the middle of the 1960s – is a steady average increase of round about 1,000 members per year. It is instructive to relate these figures to the population figures in Malmö. In 1930, every tenth inhabitant in Malmö was a member of Solidar.1228 The number of people associated with Solidar was indeed much larger. Only one person in the household would typically be a formal member, but the entire household could be shopping in the society’s stores. The more significant rises in member and turnover figures, i.e. those in the middle of the 1960s, were generally due to the amalgamations with neighbouring societies. Because of these successive amalgamations, it is difficult to follow the development of the ratio, between the number of members and the total number of inhabitants in the trading area of Solidar, over time. However, in connection with a change in the district and region division in 1965, population and member figures for each district and region were produced. Thus, we can at least compare the figures from 1965 to those from 1930, and it turns out that the ratio had doubled: by 1965, nearly every fifth household in Malmö were members of Solidar. The corresponding figure for the whole trading was nearly 14 per cent.1229

––––––––– 1228 Billing and Stigendal, (1994), p. 245. 1229 Adding the member figures and population figures for Malmö N, Malmö Ö, Malmö S, and Malmö V, we get the figures 46,200 members and 255,000 inhabitants which means that 18 per cent of the inhabitants in Malmö were members. The total number of members in Solidar in 1965 was 91,000 and the population figure in the whole trading area was 660,000. See Region- och di- striktsindelning, in 20 Solidar Bilagor till Styrelsens protokoll §§ 171-398 1965.

400 These facts are illuminating enough as a general description of the society over time. Yet, the very absence of set-backs and drops makes it impossible for us to use them as indicators of member exit occasioned by member disapproval or by some other cause. This is not to say that we are left empty-handed. There are other pieces of information, expressions of voice as it were, which shed some light on exit flows and the various reasons behind them. Some requests for withdrawals have been saved in Solidar’s archives, and the formula for withdrawals contained a line where members could state their reasons for leaving the society. There are 213 notes of withdrawal between 1922 and 1928. 105 members made no note of reason for withdrawal, and 70 wrote that they were moving from Malmö. Of the remaining 38 requests, six members lodged complaints, and five of these complaints concerned services. The complaints are internally diverse, and relate to prices, delivery service, the quality of bread, and the lack of stores in the newly built districts of Malmö.1230 These five requests for withdrawal reveal that bad service could be a reason for withdrawing one’s membership, but also that it was not a common one. The sixth request of withdrawal accompanied by a complaint came from a butcher, who complained over the ‘grave injustices’ committed by Solidar when hiring employees to the meat and delicatessen factory.1231 The remaining withdrawals are also interesting in our context. Even if they do not contain complaints, they say something about the relationship between consumer demand and what Solidar supplied. One group of withdrawals state, for example, that the decision to end their membership was motivated by a change in the size of the member household. For member households where one of the family members had died, or where children had moved out, it seems as if the decrease in household size made it less attractive, maybe even uneconomic, to remain members. One explanation given was that the remaining members in the household did not eat as much bread and meat or drink as much milk as before, and that it would no longer make sense economically to shop in the stores or from the delivery men of Solidar.1232 Then there were member households whose housekeeping had changed in other ways. Some members had moved to the countryside and/or started to produce their own goods; others were able to get hold of Solidar’s products in other ways.1233 Finally we find a number of female members – probably unmarried since they did not sign Mrs – who had started ––––––––– 1230 Karl Jönsson 9/1 1924. Malmö den 19/11 1924. Till Styrelsen för Koop. Bageriföreningen ’Soli- dar’ Malmö August Nilsson Adress: Södra Bulltoftavägen 8 B, Malmö, [no date]. Jägersro den 4 mars 1925 Carl Persson. Carl Wallin 9 okt 1922 Villa Böljehill (Kulladal). B. Jönsson, 18/10 1925, Virentoffa (Hohög), all in map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn, Diverse handlingar. 1231 Waldemar Hansson, Slaktare & Charkuteriarbetare. Malmö den 12 juni 1924”. In map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn, Diverse handlingar 1232 Limhamn 11/1 1923, Kvist. Oscar Berggren 22 jan. 1924. Malmö den 2/2 1926 Koop Föreningen Solidar Från Fru Katarina Löfström. Fru Elin Holmer, Wirentorta pr Hohög den 27/3 1926. Hanna Håkansson, 25/6 1925 Östergården XII a. Anders Malmborg 3 April 1926. Anna Månsson 28 April 1924. Augusta Nilsson 11 januari 1926. Hilda Stenberg 7/12 1925. All requests for withdrawal from map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn Diverse handlingar. 1233 Katarina Löfström Majorsgatan 17 Malmö den 27/1 1926. Malmö den 2/2 1926 Koop Föreningen Solidar Från Fru Katarina Löfström. Anders Andersson 25 juli 1926.

401 their own businesses and bought bread from Solidar to sell in their stores. As sellers of Solidar’s bread they got a certain discount when buying the bread to their stores, and they therefore found no point in staying as members.1234 These final examples, at least the ones concerning changing conditions in the household, illustrate that Solidar could not meet all the different needs of member, or potential member, households. To put it plainly, the society was not adapted to small or single households. The little data we have from the 1920s indicate that those members whose household had shrunk accepted this state of affairs: rather than using their right to propose changes in the services, they chose exit. In conclusion, we are forced to admit that our attempts to follow the ups and downs of member and turnover figures have yielded meagre information about exit processes. The account is still valuable as a background sketch to our main business in this chapter, i.e. to an analysis of the members’ use of voice in relation to retail services. In fact, the information about exit in Solidar was already derived from a few specimen of voice: a note of withdrawal may be a marginal case in this respect, ‘the last words of the member’ so to speak, but it can potentially convey information about why the society is losing a member. Yet, before we take the step over to an analysis of voice, we must qualify our assertion about the role and informative value of sales figures. They may be difficult to decipher for a researcher, but they are inserted in the ongoing discussion at member meetings. In both societies, directors and management interpreted sales figures as an indication of members’ opinions about changes in service. One example from the Newcastle Society in 1948 illustrates this. The sale of fish had recently been re- introduced and the chairman informed members that: We have commenced the sale of fish for the first time in over 30 years. The manner in which we were selling may not appeal to everyone but it was felt that it was every essential service in a very essential commodity of food that could eke out the meagre meat ration that we were able to sell. If any criticism has to be levelled the fact that during the past 6 weeks, 30 tons of Fish has been sold, should be an answer to it and justi- fication for the Board’s action.1235 Similar remarks from board representatives at Solidar’s district meetings are found in Section 3.3 below. The officials obviously recognised members’ “vote” in the stores. The shopping member was, in this sense, perceived to be an active member – hardly surprising, considering that the finances of the society were intimately linked to the economy of the member household. Even if sales figures are silent as to the motives of the members, they are indicative of preferences, and this information can be used by the board, either directly, as a basis for decisions, or indirectly as an armament against complaints at member meetings. There are examples of directors who were inclined to disregard individual complaints, presented by members at member meetings, if sales figures could be in- ––––––––– 1234 Maria Jönsson Malmö den 27/4 1923. Malmö den 7 April 1924 Johanna Lundgren Handelsid- kerska Stora Kvarngatan 29. 1235 Minutes 348th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1948.

402 terpreted as an approval of the action of the board and management. Sales figures were, in other words, construed as the voice of absent members. The following text will furnish us with more illustrations. Above all, however, it will demonstrate that members’ demands were mediated at member meetings, and contributed to the ongoing discussion between members, board, and management about the development of the co-operative services. These remarks set the stage for our next endeavour. In the following, we will draw upon minutes from member meetings to capture opinions about retail service among the members in the two societies. Data from minutes will, moreover, be supplemented with complaints and wishes which were sent to the board of the Newcastle Society and expressed in other co-operative forums in Newcastle and Malmö. Taken as an ensemble, these data give us an overview of different means of channelling consumer demand in the two societies. The account makes use of examples from the early periods in the two societies, but the focus is on a systematic and all-inclusive investigation of the periods between 1888 and 1970 in the Newcastle Society, and between 1925 and 1970 in Solidar. By covering these years, we get a picture of those decades when new practices of trading were introduced, when the character of competition changed, and when – as some scholars argue – the character and extent of consumer demand as a whole changed.1236 The exposition is divided into three sections, each corresponding to a theme discernable at the member meetings. The first deals with demands on the selection of products, and on service in stores and from delivery staff. Such complaints led to debates over policy for stocking the stores, about which goods the society should produce, and about the relation between price and quality. The second section examines the demands on the expansion of the trading area, the modernisation of stores, and the conversion into self-service. The third and last section treats the members’ opinions on price policy and dividend on purchase. All themes are interrelated, and each is related to the development of services and changes in trading practices. Yet, if our division is, in this sense, artificial, it is nevertheless necessary if we are to be able to make comparisons over time and between the two societies. This is, after all, the purpose of our inquiry.

3.1 Complaints and suggestions for the selection of goods and services Let us begin by recalling an incident reported above: the July Quarterly Report in 1878, where the directors pleaded with the members to inspect the goods in the society’s drapery, tailoring, and boots and shoe departments before they went elsewhere. The simple lesson to be drawn from this plea is that the society had stocked goods which many members did not appreciate. In this particular case, it was the falling sales figures which alerted the directors. But discontented members could also air their dissatisfaction with the society’s choice of goods to stock. It is these complaints, this specimen of voice, which will occupy us in the pages to come. And we will start with our British case. ––––––––– 1236 See Part One, Section 3.1.1.

403 Our analysis so far has shown that the member meeting in the Newcastle So- ciety had far-reaching possibilities to influence the use of the society’s resources. We have traced a series of consequences deriving from this fact, such as the difficulties it imposed on the board and the particular importance of mobilisation within the membership. It takes no stretch of the imagination, at least in a consumer co-operative society, to regard the selection of goods and services as a resource in this very sense. However, there are important differences between issues related to the distribution of surplus and those connected to the selection of goods and services. To begin with, we have shown in Part Three that the authority to handle everyday management – and stocking the store no doubt belongs to that category – was eventually handed over to the board, and from there it was passed on to management. To this should be added a second difference, which is not immediately linked to the formal division of labour and authority. Insofar as the distribution of surplus was concerned, support for a particular cause could be mobilised among those who shared common interests, or from distinct and distinctly organised groups. Preferences for certain goods and services, on the other hand, are more haphazardly scattered amongst the membership, which dramatically alters the conditions for mobilisation. In view of both these differences, then, it is interesting to follow examples where members actually did express demands in this area. The first example is from 1911. The board had decided, without consulting or preparing the members, to stop selling a popular brand of tobacco. This measure unleashed protests from some upset members at the quarterly member meeting in October. The disappointed members proposed the following motion: In consideration of the Directors report the following motion was moved and seconded ’That while the refusal to supply the members with one local firm tobacco is petty and irritating. This meeting respectfully calls upon the Board of Management to be consistent and either confine the Society’s trade exclusively to the Co-operative Wholesale Society productions or to remove the ban and supply the members with what they require.1237 An amendment was moved that the account of the tobacco manufacturer that had been closed should be reopened. The motion and the amendment were put to the vote, and the amendment was carried. But the issue was not quite settled yet. A second amendment, which could have given back some of the initiative to the board, was moved and seconded. It proposed that the matter be referred back to the board. But this second amendment was defeated when put to the vote.1238 The minutes do not reveal how many of the members voted for the motion, the first or the second amendment. What is clear, however, is that the board had been defeated, that a majority wished for the reopening of the local firm’s account, and

––––––––– 1237 Minutes 202nd Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1911. 1238 Minutes 202nd Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1911.

404 that these members wanted to be able to purchase a brand they had already learned to appreciate. Brand conservatism among smokers was a sufficiently potent force in terms of its ability to muster support at the meeting. Yet, the example is somewhat more complex than it would seem. Note that the first motion pitted two alternatives against each other: the board should either be consistent – and in that case only purchase from the CWS – or give the members what they wanted. In this respect, the motion is also a contribution to an ongoing debate within the society about trade policy. The background is a policy decision taken in 1895, and accentuated in the following years, that the Newcastle Society should purchase as much goods as possible from the CWS.1239 The purpose was twofold. On the one hand, the society would thereby contribute to the strength of the Consumer Co- operative Movement; on the other hand, the society would receive dividend on their purchases from the Wholesale, which would be economically sound for the society. However, this wish to build up a strong movement and improve the finances of the society did not always square with the members’ demands on the selection of goods in the stores. The next example is yet another instance of this conflict. In 1913, the board resolved only to stock CWS household soap, and therefore to terminate the account with Headly and Co. It was also resolved that they should not stock Andrew Liver Salt any more. Both decisions met resistance from the members. At the quarterly meeting in October some members wanted the society to reinstate Headly’s soap. This motion was defeated, but a second motion, to reinstate Andrew Liver Salt, was carried.1240 At this point, however, we should remind ourselves that votes on such matters are in a sort of border territory: the member meeting had the power to shape the conditions for management, but, in formal terms, that authority did not extend to matters of everyday management. Thus, in the following year, the society apparently still promoted CWS’s Health Salts instead of Andrew Liver Salt. At the quarterly meeting in April 1914, a member made a renewed request for a reintroduction of Andrew Liver Salt, and the board confirmed that they would consider a reintroduction.1241 This goes to show that there were limits to the member meeting’s power in this type of issue, and that decisions taken at a member meeting need not always have been implemented. ––––––––– 1239 A meeting had taken place between the board and managers of the society and the CWS board and its heads of department. The subject of discussion was that the Newcastle Society should increase its purchases from the CWS. It was resolved that it was the opinion of he board of the New- castle Society that the trade with CWS should increase. Minutes of Directors Meeting 15th January 1895. At the following Directors’ Meeting it was resolved that: “…a copy of the resolution passed at the previous BM in reference to Conference held at the CWS, be given to all of the Society’s Heads of Departments. Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 22nd January 1895. In 1896 it was resolved that at least 50 % of goods required by the Society must be purchased from the CWS. See Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register1896. Three years later at the quarterly meeting in October it was resolved “…that 80% of the Society’s requirements in Draperies should be purchased from the CWS during the next twelve months” see Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1899. 1240 Minutes 210th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th October 1913. 1241 Minutes 212th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th April 1914.

405 Relations with CWS could also be the cause of an entirely different type of complaint. While the first two examples reveal that CWS products were not always the first choice of the shopping members, there are other cases where members were denied goods from the CWS, due to detailed conditions in business agreements between the society and the CWS. The following example is taken from a written complaint sent to the drapery sub-committee and reported at a board meeting in June 1896. On 9 June 1896, a complaint from Mrs Twaddle of Balmoral Terrace, Gos- forth was read at the board meeting. Mrs Twaddle was not satisfied with the patterns of dress material which she bought from the society. She explains that she had asked to be supplied with the material she wanted directly from the CWS, but that the manager in the store had denied her. The manager in question explained that he had refused because the CWS only allowed 20 per cent off the price of goods supplied directly to members, and that was almost 3 pence per yard less than the profit which the drapery department of the society would have received if Mrs Twaddle picked something already in stock. It was decided by the board that “…in the cases where members cannot be suited with goods held in the Society’s stock he [the Drapery Department Manager] must furnish them with an order to procure their requirements from the Co-operative Wholesale So- ciety”. It was additionally resolved that the secretary should make inquiries from the CWS as to “…the percentage of profit charged upon goods supplied to member upon orders issued by the Society”.1242 A complaint from a member could thus change sale practice, but only after it had been elevated to the level of the board. The manager’s decision had been to prioritise profit margins, conditioned by the business agreement with the CWS, over the demands of customers. A culture of voice within the membership then functions as a safeguard, for the alternative to member complaint is member exit. And as the initial example showed, that was a real possibility. It is instructive, however, to hang on to the drapery department for a while. An examination of suggestions from members, regarding improvements of services, shows that this department was repeatedly scrutinised by the members. Some members, for example, thought that the drapery department was too traditional and too expensive. In 1899, Mr Windle put forth a motion that the factory system should be introduced in the society’s tailoring workshop. He thought that this would result in cheaper clothing, and that, in this way, the society’s ready- made departments would not have to purchase clothing from other workshops. It was decided instead that members who desired to have clothing produced on the factory system should be able to order them from the CWS factories.1243 The factory system was not introduced in the tailoring workshop of the society until 1949.1244 This meant that, although members could buy ready-made clothing from the society, they could also order tailor-made clothes well into the 1950s.

––––––––– 1242 Minutes Directors’ Meeting, 9th June 1896. 1243 Minutes 152nd Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1899. 1244 Minutes 353rd Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1949.

406 Hence, the society placed itself in-between the up-market stores and the stores that only sold ready-made collections. Instant mobilisation at member meetings and written complaints to the board were not the only occasions where members articulated demands on services. The co-operative forums also provided opportunities for discussing the services of the society and for mobilising support for a particular demand. At a weekly meeting of the central branch of the WCG in Newcastle, in October 1921, the speaker of the evening did not turn up. Left with no program for the evening, the members present started to discuss what they were displeased with in the stores of the Newcastle Society. They decided to send a resolution to the board, asking them to call all employees to a “Special Friendly Meeting”. The guildswomen from the central branch had a list of complaints in store for this friendly gathering. They wished that the shop assistants would be more at- tentive when serving the customers. They also wanted the employees to make their own purchases in the stores of the society. And the drapery department was specifically targeted. Their recommendation to the board was to get as much ready money as possible invested in that department, so as to improve its selection of goods. Moreover, the guildswomen were careful to point out that they did not like it when employees told hem that the store did not have the goods they asked for, and then made no effort to get hold of them.1245 The discontented guildswomen were not the last to complain about the drapery department. We will stay with this topic in one further example, for it allows us to elucidate yet another point in our argument. At a quarterly member meeting of the Newcastle Society in 1926, a member suggested that the drapery departments at Byker and Heaton Road should be transferred to the central premises. If the board did this, it was argued, members would get a wider selection to choose from on the central premises. The board replied that the suggestion would be considered.1246 The example is interesting in itself, for it shows how members could propagate for centralisation, in this case by being willing to trade proximity for a better selection. This, however, is not the point I want to make in this connection. What interests us here is the response, or rather the lack of response, which the suggestion met. The drapery departments in Byker and Heaton Road were not closed. We find exactly the same complaint almost thirty years later. At the quarterly meeting in April 1953, Mr Foster wished to draw the board’s attention to the low stocks held by the Heaton Road drapery department. He suggested that this was the reason for trade going elsewhere.1247 The drapery department at Byker was not closed until 1964 or 1965, and the department at Heaton Road can still be found in the trade accounts in 1966. That year the society had six branches with drapery departments. This indicates that the board had not listened to the repeated suggestions from the members. Nor had they abandoned the strategy of ––––––––– 1245 Minutes weekly meeting Women’s Co-operative Guild Central Branch, Newcastle upon Tyne, 24th April 1922. 1246 Minutes 261st Quarterly General Meeting, 28th July 1926. 1247 Minutes 368th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th April 1953.

407 branching out and catering for as many different consumer needs as possible in the different branches.1248 In the examples so far we have seen that members demanded a wider selection of goods, and that they sometimes were sceptical of the exchange of well-known brands, even if the new product was bought from the CWS. There are also other conclusions to be drawn, on a slightly more general note, but we will postpone discussion of them until we have gathered some more examples. Another aspect of the issue of selection is the question about quality in relation to price. In the early 1910s, the Newcastle Society introduced the sale of chilled meat. This novelty had a specific background. Chilled meat was a cheaper product, especially promoted by the national Women’s Co-operative Guild in their campaign for the Extension of Co-operation to the Poor. The argument was that the sale of cheaper meat would attract poor households to make their purchases in the Co-op, and eventually become members. According to the WCG, the Co-op was losing trade to other stores because they would not sell what they considered to be inferior pieces of meat. In fact, the national WCG had referred to Newcas- tle as a bad example. Representatives from the WCG claimed that private shopkeepers in the city would attend auctions at the CWS warehouse to buy sides of bacon and other goods which the consumer co-operative societies in the region had refused to buy, and which were therefore sold at a low price. If the societies would not buy and sell this kind of meat, they should at least consider buying the foreign frozen meat, or chilled meat as it was also called. This was meat of no inferior quality, according to the WCG, but it was cheaper than the home-killed. The only problem that the WCG could see when it came to the sale of chilled meat was that British consumers were often sceptical towards foreign products, particularly when they could buy the same products produced in Britain. Yet, they could also produce an instructive counter-example: Danish butter had been frowned upon initially, but had eventually become popular with British consumers. Therefore, they argued, it was likely that customers would eventually also approve of the imported chilled meat.1249 It is likely that the WCG campaign influenced the decision of the board of the Newcastle Society to introduce the sale of chilled meat. In 1911, the sale of chilled meat was introduced in a couple of the old butchery shops of the Newcastle Society, and new butchery branches for the purpose of selling chilled meat were also opened.1250 All in all, ten stores for the sale of chilled meat were opened be-

––––––––– 1248 Trade Accounts 1963, Trade Account 1965, Trade Account 1966 . 1249 “The Extension of Co-operation to the Poor”, in The Co-operative News 12th April 1902, p. 430. See also Gaffin and Thoms, (1993 [1983]), chapter 3. Issues and Campaigns: 1883-1918. 1250 First discussion regarding the sale of chilled meat in Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 21st February 1911. First shop for the sale of chilled meat opened in Raby Street, Minutes of Directors’ Meeting 14th March 1911. Second shop in Shieldfield Street opened, Minutes Directors’ Meeting 21st March 1911. In May a shop in High Street in Gosforth was hired for the sale of colonial meat, Minutes Di- rectors’ Meeting 30th May 1911.

408 tween 1911 and 1913.1251 The fact that the board decided to establish so many stores indicates that these sales must have been relatively successful. The larger issue at stake here is what the members thought about the trade-off between price and quality. In so far as chilled meat was concerned, the introduction appears to have been frictionless. I have found no direct comments on the matter in the minutes from member meetings. And in the directors’ report in July 1911, where it was announced that three shops for the sale of chilled meet had opened, it was commented that the result was satisfactory in terms of sale and profit.1252 The perception was nevertheless that members preferred good quality over low prices. When the society started to sell cheaper fruit in the 1950s, for example, the chairman remarked that most members would not accept such inferior quality.1253 It is hard to say if the board had an accurate picture of the membership in this respect. I have not found very many complaints on the quality of goods at the quarterly meetings. When there were complaints about quality, they concerned products of which members bought larger quantities, such as flour and coal.1254 In those cases, the board’s response was usually to announce that they would do something to improve the quality. In 1947, i.e. in times of rationing, the directors claimed instead that the quality of coal was beyond their control.1255 The perception of the board could nevertheless be well founded. On the one hand, complaints about quality may be rare and limited to a certain group of products. On the other hand, however, there were no suggestions – with the possible exception of factory-made clothes – that the society should go for second- rate goods to press down prices. But regardless of the accuracy of the board’s assumption, this was the picture which they acted upon as long as members did not step forward to argue for low-price, low-quality goods. If there were non- members who would have liked the society to cater to their specific needs at the other end of the price spectrum, they did not have a voice within the membership. Insofar as the real or assumed opinions of the membership set the direction for business, the society would not cater to the needs of outsiders but to those people who were already members. When cheaper products were in fact introduced – e.g. on the initiative of management, as in the case of fruit, or as a result of the national campaign of the WCG – they did not crowd out the old selection ––––––––– 1251 Stores were opened in Raby Street, Shieldfield Street, High Street in Gosforth, Bournemouth Ter- race, Stanhope Street, Buddle Road, 504 Scotswood Road, Panmure Street, Chillingham Road and the School Street Butchery Branch changed over from selling fresh meat to chilled meat and in 1913. See also Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register, years 1911, 1912 and 1913. 1252 Directors’ Report For the Half-year ending 3rd June 1911, embracing the 200th and 201st Quarters, inserted in Minutes Directors’ Meeting 4th July 1911. 1253 “He [chairman] drew attention to the fact that we were now selling certain cheap fruit in the Greengrocery Department to compete with certain outsiders, but pointed out that in the main this cheap fruit would not be the quality acceptable to our members in general terms.” Minutes 370th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1953. 1254 Complaints about the quality of flour. Minutes 225th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July 1917. Complaints about quality of coal and deliveries. Minutes 241st Quarterly General Meeting, 27th April. 1255 Member asked question about the quality of coal. Chairman answer that the quality of coal is now beyond their control. Minutes 345th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1947.

409 but were added to it. In this way, the selection on offer in the society’s stores became increasingly diverse. We will get back to this argument further on. There is one more aspect of selection which deserves to be mentioned. The members were also concerned with such things as being able to buy certain products in smaller quantities than the ones offered by the society. In 1934, it was proposed that the society should deliver milk in half-pint bottles. The directors argued that experiments with half-pint bottles in other societies, of the same size as the Newcastle Society, had not proved positive.1256 Members were persistent, though, and the subject came up for discussion again later that year.1257 This eventually resulted in a test. In 1937, the society supplied third-pint bottles of milk at a price of 1¼ d per bottle throughout the year.1258 Yet, member demands, whether channelled through voice or shown in sales figures, were not the sole determinants of selection in the stores. The commitment to buying CWS products was one important restriction. The Newcastle So- ciety had introduced the policy to buy a considerable proportion of its goods from the CWS as early as the 1890s, and that policy was retained. In 1952, Mr McAthey, a member and former director, felt that he had to point out that it was important that the society stuck to this policy. But he also pointed out that the deals between the CWS and the society were conditioned, i.e. the society should only buy goods from the CWS if they were high-standard goods.1259 In the middle the 1950s, the CWS made an inquiry into the degree of loyalty of societies which bought their goods from the wholesale. Reporting on this inquiry, the chairman pointed out that the society came third in the loyalty table, and that members in the Newcastle Society bought proportionally more CWS goods than members in any other society.1260 The tendency was the same a few years later. In 1960, the CWS chose to have their family fare exhibition in Newcastle, in connection with the centenary of the Newcastle Society. The society was now ranking 13th in terms of membership, 8th in terms of turnover, and it was pointed out that the society bought 70 per cent of the products they sold from the CWS.1261 The Newcastle Society thus lived up to the policy introduced at the end of the 19th century: the co-op stores in New- castle in the 1960s mainly sold goods produced by or at least bought via the CWS. So what shall we make of the picture we have painted so far in this section? We have encountered a far less belligerent member meeting than the one which had so much to say about the distribution of the surplus. There are complaints about and suggestions for the selection in the stores, but it were the board and ––––––––– 1256 Minutes 293rd Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July 1934. 1257 Minutes 294th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st October 1934. 1258 Minutes 304th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1937. 1259 Minutes 363rd Quarterly General Meeting, 30th January 1952. 1260 “The C.W.S. had prepared a loyalty table and out of 25 of the largest societies we stood third in the country in relation to C.W.S. purchases to the Society’s total sales and of these 25 societies, we were easily the top for C.W.S. purchases per member of £59.19.0.”. Minutes 380th Quarterly Gene- ral Meeting, 25th April 1956. 1261 Burton, (1997), p. 121.

410 management, not the members, which took the final decision about stocking the stores and about the quality of service. It is as if the members were not at ease in their role as a mere advisory forum. They did try to mediate their demands to the board, and in some cases – e.g. regarding tobacco and staple goods – they mus- tered enough support to vote at member meetings. In general, however, heterogeneous preferences could make it difficult to drum up support for a resolution at a member meeting. And even if they were successful in doing so, there was no guarantee that the board and management would implement the decision. In order to bring out the implications of all this for the channelling of consumer demand, we must use the situation in Solidar as a contrast folio. Members of Solidar became more accustomed to assuming an advisory role. This was the role they played in matters relating to the distribution of the surplus. This was the status ascribed to them by the rules, and the system with district meetings created a close connection between their shopping in the local store and the democratic system. But these were gradual developments, and we shall begin our account slightly further back in the history of the society, when Solidar only produced and sold bread. Members and customers who bought bread from Solidar were, at first, rather displeased with the society’s narrow selection. They did not just want to buy fine bread and pastry. The deliverymen conveyed their complaints to the members of the board, and it was decided at the beginning of April 1908 that Solidar should buy rolls and different sorts of crisp bread from other bakers in the city.1262 The board did not choose to buy from other co-operative bakery societies, but from the bakery companies of Pålsson and Swedbergs. Later in the same month, Mr Sandin – a deliveryman who, at the time, was also a representative on the board – suggested that the society should buy a larger bakery where the society could bake bread made of bolted ryemeal and other kinds of dark bread which the customers asked for.1263 This example has cropped up before in our account, and we can afford to concentrate exclusively on what it tells us about voice within the membership. The question of renting a larger bakery, in order to bake the bread that customers and members wanted, was discussed at a shareholder meeting in July 1908. The directors pointed out that this had been the intention of the board from the start. One shareholder expressed his strong support for the board’s point of view: at the moment, he thought, Solidar only baked bread for “storgubbarna” (which roughly translates as “potentates” or “rich people”). A member of the board answered that he did not think that there were any “storgubbar” who bought their bread from Solidar.1264

––––––––– 1262 ”På framställning af bageriföreståndaren och herr Sandin beslöt styrelsen att köpa franska bröd från Pålssons och hårda bröd sorter från Swedbergs bagerier för att kunna tillfredställa en del kun- der som fodrade dessa brödsorter.” Protokoll styrelsen onsdagen 1/4 1908. 1263 Protokoll styrelsen måndag 12 april 1908. We learn that Mr Johan Sandin was a member of the board in the early days of Solidar’s history in Part Three, Chapter 2. 1264 Protokoll öfwer Kooperativa bageriföreningen Solidar andelsegarestämma Söndagen den 26/7 1908.

411 Once Solidar had widened the selection of bread, members and customers started to complain instead about the quality of the bread. The deliverymen blamed the bakers and other workers in the bakery for the bad quality of bread; in the bakery, the workers blamed each other or the bakery manager. Member complaints thus added fuel to internal conflicts. The board tried to solve the conflicts, but this proved to be difficult, since Solidar was a combined worker and consumer co-operative at the time. It was a disagreement between members, not between employers and employees, and the rift within the membership cut right through the board as well.1265 However, when important co-operative distributors in the city threatened to stop purchasing bread from Solidar, because of its varying and sometimes really poor quality, the board had to deal with the matter.1266 The complaints about bread quality continued throughout the 1920s and the beginning of the 1930s. Members paid attention to variations in bread quality, and compared with what the bread used to be like or with bread from other bakeries.1267 As long as the complaints related to the quality and taste of the bread, the directors or the chief executive would promise to attend to it. But when demands on products were of a different nature, they were not always prepared to listen to the propositions. At the annual society meeting in 1927, for example, Maurits Nilsson told the meeting that he did not like that Solidar imported so much American wheat flour. He thought Swedish industry should be supported, so that more Swedish workers would be provided with employment. He also thought that this would be beneficial for consumer co- operation. The chief executive Emil Olsson answered Mr Nilsson with an invitation. He challenged Mr Nilsson to convince customers not to demand American wheat flour, and also to improve the quality of Swedish wheat flour so that it matched the quality of the American flour. If he succeeded in doing so, Emil Olsson promised that Solidar would buy more Swedish flour.1268 The message is clear: voice within the membership is valuable when it contributes to making the products better, but the society would only purchase what it could sell. Now, Solidar limited itself to bread for a long time, but the range of goods eventually became more diversified. As explained in Part Two, Solidar ended up ––––––––– 1265 The customers’ complaints on the quality of bread were used as arguments in the quarrels between workers (delivery men and bakers) who also were shareholders/members. Protokoll öfver Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidars möte Söndagen den 8/11 1908. The complaints on the quality of bread were common and also complaints on the behaviour of the deliverymen, see e.g. Proto- koll öfver Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidars möte Söndagen den 8/11 1908. 1266 When important customers like Järnvägspersonalens konsumtionsförening were considering to end their contract as distributor the board had to do something about the quality of bread. Protokoll styrelse onsdag 11/12 1912. 1267 Many different members complained on the quality of bread. Protokoll ordinarie årsstämma 24/3 1923. Complaints on property, bread and meat. Protokoll fört vid II distriktets årsmöte i Malmö för andelsägarna i Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 29/3 1933. Mrs Olsson complained and said that Solidar’s fine bread was not that tasty. Protokoll fört vid möte med andelsägarna i kooperativa fö- reningen Solidar [no distric or exacte date mentioned but from the Annual Report we can conclude that this was district number 8] 1933. 1268 Protokoll fört vid Kooperativa Föreningen Solidars ordinarie föreninssammanträde måndagen den 11/4 1927.

412 taking over or starting several production companies in the process of expanding the services of the society. This strategy was not unanimously embraced by the members. As we saw above, there were critical voices at the member meetings, who argued that joint stock companies taken over by Solidar, e.g. the dairy, made unduly high profits instead of reducing the price of their goods. But there were also members who thought that Solidar should start more production companies, or take over existing companies, in order to expand the selection of services and goods and reduce the price of particular products. In other words: the society was expanding, and members had opinions about how this should best be done, which new goods and services should be introduced, and what the society should prioritise. Thus, at a district meeting in 1926, Mr Axel Grankvist criticised the purchase of a property in Bergsgatan and suggested that the money used for this purchase could have been used to start more production companies.1269 At another district meeting, in 1933, Mr Oscar Olsson demanded that Solidar take over the water factory in Malmö.1270 And three years later, at yet another district meeting, Mrs Anna Olsson asked about Solidar’s interest in the water factory. She asked because she thought that this particular factory produced lemonades and water of an inferior quality compared to the other water factories.1271 The members at the district meetings thus took their advisory role seriously, and virtually functioned as scouts for the society. Demands for new production companies, and thereby for the introduction of new goods for sale in the stores, continued to crop up at district meetings in the 1940s. To take but a couple of examples, we can cite member demands that the society should produce small beer and inexpensive children’s clothing. The latter demand, proposed by Mr Thörnqvist in 1948, elucidates another element in Solidar’s strategy to secure an adequate selection in the stores. In response to his suggestion, Thörnqvist was told that KF was already planning to start a production of children’s clothing.1272 If KF was producing a particular product, Solidar could buy it from KF wholesale, and receive a dividend, and there was no need for the society to build up its own production apparatus. And children’s clothing was certainly not the only type of goods which was produced by the federal organisation. Parallel to the development of production companies initiated by the local societies, KF had started several industries. It had begun as an emergency measure. KF had purchased a margarine factory in 1909 to secure the supply of margarine when other margarine companies boycotted KF. But in the 1920s, 1930s and 1940s KF either took over or set up industries on a grand scale. The federal organisation built up a co-operative production of many of life’s necessities: margarine, lamps, flour, galoshes, car and bike tires, food oil, china, toilets and bathtubs, books, shoes, clothes, jam, etc. The motive behind this massive build-up was partly to fight against monopolies, partly to provide

––––––––– 1269 Protokoll distrikt Malmö, 28/3 1926. 1270 Protokoll distrikt 4, 27/3 1933. 1271 Protokoll distrikt 1, 30/3 1936. 1272 Protokoll distrikt 9, 26/3 1944. Protokoll distrikt 10, 4/4 1948.

413 co-operatively produced alternatives to any goods which the consumer could want to buy.1273 Because of this expansion in co-operative industries, which continued in the Post-War Period, members of consumer co-operative societies did not need to go on demanding new production companies. New co-operative industries owned by KF cropped up before the members asked for them. There was one disadvan- tage with this. Members were no longer immediately involved in the process of developing products and production units. They were flooded with a range of co- operatively produced goods which did not always seem useful. This is illustrated by a comment by Mr Anders Persson at a meeting of Kooperativa Kamratkretsen in November 1955. KF had started to produce jacks, and Persson complained that he could not see the utility of this product for the members.1274 Time no doubt vindicated KF’s decision: jacks were clearly in demand in a car society which was just around the corner. Instead of buying and building factories of its own, Solidar thus increasingly relied on KF to extend the selection of goods in the stores. This relation with the federal organisation is important and warrants a brief detour before we get back to the complaints and suggestions from the members. The close business connection with Kooperativa Förbundet (KF) should come as no surprise. In the rules adopted by Solidar in 1920, we find the following clause: The Society, which is made up of an association of consumers in Malmö and the surrounding countryside, aims at promoting the housekeeping/economising of its members – in co-operation with Kooperativa För- bundet – by acquiring sound and unadulterated food stuff and other goods to it members… [Italics added].1275 The society’s commitment to doing business with KF was also institutionalised in a more material sense. Like many other consumer co-operative societies in Sweden, Solidar joined the Current Account system of KF. This system provided societies with an opportunity to place all, or at least most, of their working capital in a current account with KF. It brought a considerable reduction of transac- tions of money between KF and the consumer co-operative societies, and KF more or less stood for the liquidity of the whole Swedish consumer co-operative movement.1276 Solidar continued its close co-operation with KF throughout the period of our inquiry, and we can be fairly certain that, in those cases when the

––––––––– 1273 Giertz Eric and Strömberg Bengt U., Samverkan till egen nytta: Boken om konsumentkooperativ idé och verklighet i Sverige, (1999), Prisma, Stockholm, pp. 62-63, 98-100. 1274 Protokoll Kooperativa Kamratkretsen 24/11 1955. 1275 Utdrag ur protokoll fört vid ordinarie halvårsstämma i Malmö den 29/8 1920 med Koop. Bageri- föreningen Solidar u.p.a. i Malmö, attached to Stadgar för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar utan personlig ansvarighet, in map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn. Diverse Handlingar. 1276 We find the first entry demonstrating that Solidar has accepted a Current Account at KF in the Balance Sheet from 1920 see Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättlse för år 1920, p. 5, in FKFS 1907- 1940. For a more comprehensive account of how the Current Account system of KF worked see Jonnergård Karin, Federativa processer och administrative utveckling: En studie av federativa kooperativa organisationer, (1988), Lund University Press, Lund, pp. 104-105.

414 society did not make the products in its own companies, it bought them from KF. There may have been changes later. In 1970, there was a change in the rules quoted above, where the reference to co-operation with KF was deleted and replaced by a formulation that Solidar should, in the most efficient way, purchase and sell to the members such goods that the members need.1277 That revision made it possible for the society to shop around, so to speak. Yet, Solidar still used the current account system, and, with a few exceptions, Solidar’s balance on this current account was negative throughout the 1970s, i.e. Solidar owed KF money.1278 Our little detour has underlined Solidar’s close financial relations with KF. It was no doubt an important factor, for it influenced the selection of goods offered by the society. But we are not quite finished with voice within the membership, and, as we shall see, Solidar’s introduction of new services, in conjunction with the rapid expansion of its trading area, also resulted in other deliberations among members and directors. When new services were demanded and introduced in one place, and when the number of districts had grown and spread out, the question of an equitable distribution of services was liable to come up on the agenda. From very early on, the society had provided mangles in their stores for the use of the members. We do not know exactly when this service was introduced; the first reference to it is found in minutes from 1935, but it is clear that this was not the date of their installation.1279 This service was unproblematic from an equity point of view, in the sense that it was apparently available in all districts. What was not available, however, was equipment for washing the clothes. Should the society provide that service at all? If so, should it take the form of co- operative laundries or collective wash-houses? In the end, Solidar opted for opening a co-operative laundry. But it took some time, and when the opening finally occurred, it was another problem which occupied the members. In contrast to the mangles, co-operative laundries were fairly large investments. Not all stores were suitable for being rebuilt in this manner, and if staffed co-operative laundries were to be viable economically, they would have to have a sufficient customer potential. In short, it was difficult for the board and management to satisfy all members when Solidar introduced new services. Member demands for wash-houses or laundries were raised, for example, at district meetings in 1939 and 1946.1280 There were also interest groups in the vil- ––––––––– 1277 Stadgar Konsumentföreningen Solidar, Malmö 1970, p. 1. 1278 Verksamheten 1971 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 17. Vår verksamhet 1974 Konsumentföre- ningen Solidar, p. 11. Konsum Solidar 1976, p. 11. Vår Verksamhet 1977 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p 9. Vår Verksamhet -78 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 11. In 1979 Solidar took a long- term loan with KF to reduce their debt standing in the Current Account, see Konsum äger vi tillsammans Verksamheten –79 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 11. 1279 On a note attached to minutes from a district meeting in 1935 it is written that Mr Lundstedt wished for a radiator in the mangle room next to the store. He said it was too cold for those who had a lot to mangle, Protokoll distrikt 5 Kulladal 27/3 1935. See also minutes from a district meeting in the following year. Mr Alfredsson claimed that the board had promied the members at a previous district meeting that an electic mangle would be installed in the store at Ellenborg. Director Johan Larsson promised to mediate this demand to the board. Protokoll distrikt 12 Virentofta, 31/3 1936. 1280 Two members wished for Solidar to arrange collective wash-houses. One member thought it was too early for such a question to be considered. General manager Emil Olsson promised he would

415 lages within Solidar’s trading area who tried to get the society’s financial support to build public wash-houses.1281 In 1951, Solidar finally yielded to member demands. A store with a laundry in the cellar was built in a residential area in the south-western part of Malmö.1282 By doing so, however, the society had let the genie out of the bottle. As soon as this laundry was built, members in other districts wished for co-operative laundries in their areas as well.1283 And there was a debate whether Solidar should provide this type of service at all. One member in Arlöv thought that it was not Solidar’s task to build laundries; such needs should be catered to by the local authorities.1284 Above all, however, there was the question whether the society would be able to provide all members with this new service. At a district meeting in Fosie in 1953, representatives from the board put it in plain text by explaining that, since Solidar’s trading area was now so large, it was difficult to start new services without running the risk of favouring certain members. The introduction of co- operative laundries would favour some members over others, the directors explained, and it was therefore doubtful whether the board should proceed with the establishment of this service.1285 The same scepticism on the part of the board resurfaced at another district meeting in Skanör the following day. The director who was present explained that the co-operative laundry which the society had built in 1951 – where it cost 7 kronor for a half day's washing – did not pay its way. He nevertheless went on to present the cost estimate for a co-operative laundry in Kulladal, which means that the board was planning to build at least one more laundry. Members were clearly aware of the hesitant attitude on the part of the board, but if other districts could get a laundry, there was no reason why they could not get one too. At the Skanör district meeting, Messrs Björk and Wernersson thus argued for the installation of a laundrette of the simplest model in Skanör – apparently in an attempt to convince the board that a laundry should be built in their locality as well. The director promised that he would forward their suggestion to the board, but he also pointed to alternative possibilities which were, or would soon be, available to the members. Solidar would soon be able to offer washing machines for

discuss the matter with the board. Protokoll distrikt 3, 28/3 1939. Mr August Nilsson asked if Soli- dar could arrange for a collective wash-house in Arlöv. Protokoll distrikt 10 Arlöv, 25/3 1946. 1281 The Social Democratic Women’s Club in Stora Hammar had sent a letter with a request for Soli- dar’s support to build a wash-house for the public in Höllviksnäs. They had also sent the same request to the local authorities. The board representative said they would support such a venture if there was enough interest in Höllviksnäs for a public wash-house. Protokoll distrikt 17 Höllviksnäs, 24/3 1945. 1282 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1951, p. 60, in FKFS 1950-1960. 1283 Members wished for a wash-house to be built at Rostorp. The representative from the board said that this was a new kind of service and the board and management wished to study it more before more wash-houses were built. Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg, 1/4 1952. See also members’ demands on wash-houses in Protokoll distrikt St Petri, 3/4 1952. Protokoll distrikt 14, 6/4 1952. Protokoll distrikt Skanör, 11/4 1953. 1284 Protokoll distrikt 10 Arlöv 4/4 1949. 1285 Protokoll distrikt Fosie 10/4 1953.

416 hire.1286 Members could also hand in their washing to the central laundry, opened by the society in 1952, and get it washed and ironed in 10 to 14 days.1287 In this way, the society could still meet the members’ need for washing, while at the same time reducing the pressure from the districts to get a laundry of their own. In sum, it was difficult to establish economically sound co-operative laundries in all areas of the society, and they were eventually abandoned altogether. Now, members in Solidar did not just use voice to demand a wider selection of goods and new services. Just like the members in the Newcastle Society, they came up with suggestions as to how the selection of products could be improved, and how to increase sales. In fact, the system with district meetings and a member council, which were specifically designed to be advisory forums, accentuated this scouting role of the members. Precisely because these meetings took the form of questions-and-answers, and because they were not mass meetings for the entire membership, the members were not discouraged from addressing the meeting with issues relating to their own store and district. A few examples help elucidate this point. We will begin by visiting the district meeting in Arlöv in 1933. Mr Axel Elm- gren, one of their district representatives on the member council, informed the members that the board had plans to move the drapery store at Lommavägen to a store at Lundavägen. As it turned out, he and other members at the meeting were critical of this move and explained their point of view to the board representatives at the meeting. The store at Lundavägen, they maintained, was not suitable and would not be able to stock a good enough selection. The board representatives, in their turn, explained that the board wished to move the drapery goods so as to be able to sell more hardware goods in the store at Lommavägen.1288 What we should take note of here is the dual, or intermediate, role assumed by the representatives on the member council. It is they who are charged with the task of informing the members about what the board was up to, but they are also joining up with the members to give feedback to the board. The intermediary role of the representatives on the member council comes out even clearer in the next example, taken from a district meeting in 1936. Messrs Nilsson and Berntson, both representatives on the member council, first turned to the members and informed them about the goods that Solidar sold. This time, they were promoting shoes, and the members at the meeting were urged to buy more shoes from Solidar. When they had finished propagating merchandise to the members, they turned instead to the board representatives and pointed out that the board ought to advertise more to increase the sales of shoes.1289 This conception of the role of the representatives on the member council remained intact for a very long time.1290 At a district meeting in 1955 Mr Malmquist, a ––––––––– 1286 Protokoll distrikt Skanör 11/4 1953. 1287 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1952, p. 12, in FKFS 1950-1960. 1288 Protokoll distrikt 10, 26/3 1933. 1289 Protokoll distrikt 2, 30/3 1936. Mr Harald Nilsson and Mr Berntson were representatives on the member council for the 2nd district in 1936. Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1936, p. 3, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1290 See e.g. Utdrag ur protokollen från 1962 års distriktsstämmor, Fosie.

417 member of the member council, asked if the board had considered Mr Salomons- son’s suggestion regarding how to promote Sulf, a washing powder. The director, Mr Friman, said that no special propaganda campaign had been initiated, but, as usual, there had been propaganda in the stores and directly to the housewives, and the sales had nearly doubled since last autumn.1291 We have, in other words, a situation where members act as promoters for co- operative products, while at the same time giving the board advice as to how the society ought to fulfil that task. I have not noted anything similar in minutes from member meetings in the Newcastle Society. There are examples in Newcas- tle, too, of members making suggestions and requests at member meetings that the society should sell more products from particular co-operative manufactures.1292 But this is a far cry from the systematically dual role of member council representatives in Solidar. It seems that this is peculiar to Solidar, and there is a good case for the conclusion that it is related to characteristics in the society’s democratic organisation. Yet, if the district system facilitated communication between board and members regarding goods and services, it also had other effects. One important effect has been mentioned, more or less en passant, in our account so far: the tendency to concentrate articulation and mobilisation along geographical lines. This is what we saw in the case of education, when members on the outskirts of Soli- dar’s trading area demanded to get their share of the educational resource. This is what happened when the society established co-operative laundries. The same principle also applies in other cases. The question of quality and equity came up at a district meeting in 1945. Mrs Anna Olsson, a representative on the member council, asked if the bread baked in Solidar’s bakery at Bolleby was better than the bread baked elsewhere, since so many members bought their bread from that bakery. The chief executive answered that this bread was not better than any other bread, but that members who bought their bread there got it fresh from the oven. It was the long transports to all the stores in Solidar’s trading area that affected the bread negatively. He hastened to add that the board was working on a plan to open more small bakeries, so that Solidar could keep up with the competition when it came to selling freshly baked bread.1293 The next section will furnish us with more examples. For now, however, we shall return to members’ complaints and suggestions. The 1950s brought a change in the nature of member complaints concerning the selection and quality of products and service. The emphasis tilted over to issues related to the conversion into self-service. We can see this, for instance, in the reactions among members in Limhamn, who were sceptical of the new methods of shopping which self-service implied. One member thought that it pre- packed products were not hygienic, as he did not know what the conditions were ––––––––– 1291 Protokoll distrikt St Petri, 4/4 1955. 1292 “A suggestion that more purchases be made from Kettering Boot & Shoe Manufacturing Society was noted.” Minute 344th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th April 1947. 1293 Protokoll fört vid möte med Solidars Medlemsråd, 20 september 1945, in Protokollbok för Med- lemsråd inom Koop: För: Solidar Malmö bok II.

418 where the products were packed. He also thought it was a waste to write the price directly with a pen on the leeks, because you then had to through away the outer coat of the leek before it could be used. When it came to the pre-packed products, some members doubted that the marked weight was correct. It was suggested that there be a scale placed in the store for the customers to use. The critical members were answered by other members and by representatives from the board and were told that their complaints were exaggerated. Nevertheless, these complaints reflect a worry over the new practice of shopping.1294 The conversion into self-service also affected the selection of goods in the store, and this made members in Oxie react. The consumer co-operative society in Oxie amalgamated with Solidar in 1951. Eight years after that amalgamation, members were still comparing their present situation with the situation before the amalgamation and with what they had expected to get when joining Solidar. At the district meeting in Oxie in 1959 Messrs Kronvall and Forsberg conveyed the members’ disappointment with the introduction of self-service: They reminded the board of Solidar of the promise they had been given when the Oxie Society transferred its engagements, namely that members would be provided with a well-stocked store. They thought that the board had failed them in this respect, since the selection had become very narrow with the change into a self-service store. Even though the selection cannot be as wide as before the conversion, we demand a change; surely, stated Mr Forsberg, the least you would expect is that we should be able to order the products advertised in ‘Vi’ from our store.1295 The board representatives present at the district meeting tried to reassure the discontented members. They told them that Solidar’s board had recently discussed the status of the fringe areas of the society when it came to selection of products in store.1296 The members in Oxie repeated their demands in the following year.1297 The introduction of self-service had an impact on the selection, not only in the converted stores but also in the ones which had not yet been converted. The shop assistants notified the directors and the chief executive of complaints they had received from customers in the stores. In 1957, the sale of milk had dropped, and it was suggested that this was due to the reduced selection of bread in the remaining milk and bread stores.1298 This type of store had indeed suffered from the introduction of self-service. In 1950, Solidar had 220 milk and bread stores, in 1956 the number was down to 172, and four years later there were only 101 left.1299 According to the shop assistants, members complained about the closure of these stores. ––––––––– 1294 Protokoll distrikt Limhamn, 11/4 1951. 1295 Protokoll distriktsstämma Oxie, 4/4 1959. 1296 Protokoll distrikt Oxie, 4/4 1959. 1297 Protokoll distrikt Oxie, 3/4 1960. 1298 Protokoll personaldistriktet, 1/4 1957. 1299 See Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 1956 and Konsum- tionsförenigen Solidar 1960, in FKFS 1950-1960.

419 A host of complaints were related to self-service, or to its effects on other stores. Members were displeased with the self-service stores because they found it tedious to queue in these new stores when they only wanted to buy a loaf of bread.1300 At a district meeting in Kirseberg in 1964, Mr Vesterberg was upset because he could not buy tobacco in the milk store in his district. Anna-Lisa Rosenberg agreed with Vesterberg, and said that the milk stores in her district had also stopped selling tobacco, but that she knew of some milk shops that still did. The answer they received was that the board had agreed on a policy to slim the selection in different stores.1301 Apart from the grumbling about self-service, the 1950s also saw the emergence of another variety of voice within the membership. These were demands and expectations that the society, or the Co-operative movement, should use its bargaining power to influence the market. At a district meeting in 1953, two members, Per Nilsson and Anton Lindskog, moved a motion that Solidar should pressure potato farmers to consider KF’s recent research on new kinds of potatoes and to begin cultivating these. The motion was carried, and it was argued that Solidar, being such an important customer to the growers, ought to be able to demand better quality.1302 In a similar vein, Ivar Andersson suggested at a district meeting in 1957 that the Co-operative movement ought to do something about the unsatisfactory percentage of fat in the milk. The chairman at the meeting pointed out that the government decided both the price and the quality of some of the more important agricultural products, and that the Co-operative Movement could do little in this matter. He thought it would be best if Mr Andersson wrote to Mr. M. Bonow, who was KF’s representative on the Agricul- tural Committee.1303 Let us pause here for a while, however, and compare the channelling of consumer demand in Solidar and the Newcastle Society. It may appear – at first blush – as if the conditions for influencing the selection of goods and services, as opposed to those pertaining to the distribution of the surplus, were similar for members in the two societies. Neither the member meeting in the Newcastle So- ciety nor the district meetings in Solidar had the formal power to decide on issues of everyday management. In both cases, the members nevertheless took votes in such matters, but these were not binding and could be disregarded by the board. It would be misleading, however, to think of the difference in democratic organisation solely in terms of the formal authority accorded to the members. Doing so would yield the awkward result that Solidar’s district meetings are characterised only by what they lack in comparison with the Newcastle Society, i.e. by their relative absence of formal powers. What our account so far in this section has shown is that, rather than being the absence of something, the district system was a different way of construing the communication of consumer demand. Solidar’s members were expected to be advisors, and that role was taken ––––––––– 1300 Protokoll Personaldistrikt 3/4 1956. 1301 Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg 9/4 1964. 1302 Protokoll distrikt Slottsstaden 7/4 1953. 1303 Protokoll distrikt Möllevången 4/4 1957.

420 seriously. And in this sense, our two cases do not converge when we take the step from the distribution of surplus to the selection of goods and services. This short summary statement is not the final word in this section. We have introduced it midway, so as to be able to address a slightly different question, where the main point is not to bring out differences between the two societies. The demands presented so far have either involved wishes for a wider selection or for the introduction or preservation of some preferred brand or product. The type of issues we shall consider next is of a different nature. They concern members’ demands that a particular class of goods should not be sold by the society. Demands like these, proposed by a section of the membership, could be difficult to meet. Removing products narrows the selection, and members who want the product could go elsewhere to get hold of it. The articulation and mobilisation of such demands on service differ in their dynamic from other demands on selection, and so does the resistance against it. In short, the dividing lines are drawn elsewhere. In the remainder of this section, we will inquire into the fate of two classes of products – alcoholic beverages and South African products – in our two societies. At a special meeting of the Newcastle Society in 1909, Mr George Innes spoke on behalf of those members in the society who were also members of the Rechabites, the Sons of Temperance, the Good Templars, and the British Women’s Temperance Association. These members had taken a pledge not to join any co-operative society that sold wine and liquor. When they had joined, the Newcastle Society had lived up to this requirement. A few years ago, however, the society had obtained a wine licence. He added that the board had done this without asking the opinion of the temperance members of the society. The last comment gave rise to laughter in the hall. But Innes was not quite finished. He went on to remark that when the licence was obtained, it was pointed out that wine would only be sold for medical purposes, but last Christmas there had been a list of recommendations for Christmas wines in the drug department. He now proposed that the sale of wine be discontinued. His proposal was seconded. The comments that followed in the discussion were rather ironic. One member, mocking the teetotallers, claimed the right for vegetarians to protest against the sale of meat, and for non-smokers to protest against the sale of tobacco. When the resolution of Mr Innes was finally put to the vote, the result was 195 votes for and 252 against. The resolution was lost.1304 When demands on services take this form, the dynamic resembles the one we are familiar with from our discussion of the distribution of surplus. They are matters of principle for an organised section of the membership, and this group will do what it can to muster enough support to get a decision carried. But in order to succeed, they would have to outnumber whatever opponents could be present at the member meeting. The temperance people were not numerous enough. The member meeting voted for the sale of wine in the stores of the society. Yet, ––––––––– 1304 See article “Newcastle Co-operators, and the sale of Wines at the Store, Temperance Advocators object at Quarterly Meeting”, in the Newcastle Daily Chronicle October 28th 1909, inserted in minute book 1127/27.

421 they were a force to be reckoned with, and even if they failed to get alcoholic beverages abolished in 1909, they could count on the support of wider groups of members to win partial victories, for members in general did not think that the society should be liberal with selling alcoholic beverages. One example of this is found at the quarterly meeting in April 1928. The society had come into possession of a pub, the Bull and Mouth Public House, in connection with the purchase of a property. The proposal that was presented at the meeting was that the license from this pub should be transferred to the society’s restaurant, so that it could sell alcohol. The voting figures, 159 for the transfer and 745 against it, leave us in no doubt about the opinion of the majority of the members at that meeting.1305 The sale of alcoholic beverages no doubt offended some members, and the leadership of the society had to consider their opinions while at the same time trying new products and services. The temperance question came up in Solidar as well, in the middle of the 1940s. Here, too, the conflict began where decisions about the conditions of management were taken – in Solidar’s case among the board and management rather than at the member meeting. In July 1945 Emil Olsson, the chief executive had sent an application to the authorities with a request for a licence to serve private parties with alcoholic beverages at the Pilgården, a restaurant. He recommended the board that they should wait for the reply from the authorities and then take the decision whether or not the restaurant should serve alcoholic beverages. Should they get no for an answer, there would be nothing to discuss; and should the application go through, the issue would be referred back to the board. So far so good. Yet, towards the end of the year, one of the directors questioned the actions of the chief executive. During a board meeting at the end of Novem- ber, Mr Gruveman, director and member of the propaganda committee, handed in a protest against the application and the way in which the issue had been dealt with.1306 Gruveman was a supporter of temperance. His protest was, however, motivated by a mixture of arguments, some of which were more concerned with formal propriety than with the factual matter. But he had an arsenal of reasons for his discontent, and a common theme in most of them was that selling alcohol was not compatible with co-operation. He argued that a co-operative movement should only provide its members with what they needed. In his opinion, alcohol fell far short of that criterion. He also pointed out that the state had taken over the distribution of liquor, and therefore the Co-operative movement could not have any effect on the price of alcohol. And if co-operative societies get involved in selling such products, he added, it would not remain an edifying movement. He took the opportunity to remind the directors that some versions of model rules forbade the sale of alcoholic beverages. Having said this, Gruveman went on to say that what he opposed the most was that employees in a leading position in Solidar had taken liberties and overstepped their authority. He claimed that the chief executive had told him not to ––––––––– 1305 Minutes 268th Quarterly General Meeting, Wednesday 25th April 1928. 1306 Protokoll styrelsemöte 29/11 1945. Bilaga 9 till styrelsens protokoll av den 29.11.1945.

422 hand in a protest when the application had first been presented in the report from the executive committee in July. Emil Olsson had told him that the application had been rejected, and that it would not be sent back to the County Administra- tive Board until the board of Solidar had taken a decision to do so. This, however, is not how things happened. Systembolaget1307 had resubmitted the application to the County Administrative Board for a second try. Emil Olsson claimed that he had not been aware of this, and that he had first learned about it when, as chairman of the City Council’s executive committee, he had received a referral concerning the application. Gruveman had believed that the application had been recalled and accused the chief executive of working behind the back of the board. He was disappointed with Emil Olsson and with his fellow directors, who had not protested against the lack of respect for the democratic rules of the Co-operative movement. What made this lack of respect even worse, in Gruveman’s opinion, was that Emil Ols- son and many of the directors were also representatives on the City Council and in other democratic organisations.1308 At the board meeting in December 1945, Gruveman threatened to refuse to sign the annual report unless his protest against how the application for a limited liquor licence had been handled was recognised. And to satisfy him, the board decided that his written protest would be attached to the minutes from the meeting on 29 November.1309 This apparently satisfied Gruveman, because we find his signature in the annual report from 1945.1310 So far, this was all a matter for the board and management. Only later did the solutions they reached trickle down to other levels in the organisation. The representatives on the member council might have heard about the application for a limited liquor licence through other channels, but it was not until their meeting in February in 1946 that the question was presented to them. Apart from the announcement that the society had applied for a liquor license for Pilgården, the meeting also conveyed another piece of information that was liable to aggravate temperance people. Emil Olsson declared that Solidar had bought Temperance – the hotel and restaurant that we presented in Section 1.2 of Part Two – and added that restaurant visitors who ordered food in the restaurant could also buy 10 cen- tilitres of spirits. Solidar was, most probably, not the first owner to sell alcohol in the restaurant. But just as the board, the membership was split on the question of serving alcoholic beverages, and the decision to serve them in a hotel and restaurant called Temperance surely seems provocative. Just as in the Newcastle Society, however, the temperance people were in a minority. There are more positive than negative comments from the members noted in the minutes from the member council meeting. The members who defended the purchase of Temperance and were in favour of serving private parties alcoholic beverages at Pilgården argued that Solidar had to keep up with the ––––––––– 1307 The Swedish state-controlled company for the sale of wines and spirits. 1308 Protokoll styrelsemöte 29/11 1945. Bilaga 9 till styrelsens protokoll av den 29.11.1945. 1309 Protokoll styrelsemöte 31/12 1945. 1310 Förvaltnings- och Revisionsberättelser för år 1945, p. 40, in FKFS 1941-1949.

423 times. The critical members, on the other hand, pointed out that the sale of alcoholic beverages in the co-operative restaurants would contribute to the deterioration of restaurant culture in Malmö.1311 And the issue came up on the agenda again. At the following meeting of the member council, Ernst Persson said that he wished to discuss the application for a liquor licence in more detail. Mr Lindskog suggested that a special meeting should be arranged where this issue could be discussed. The meeting voted for Mr Lindskog’s suggestion.1312 There are no minutes from such a meeting, which means that we cannot find out how the debate developed. But there are indicators of resentment in parts of the membership. The minutes from a district meeting in 1946 reveal that one of the representatives on the member council had resigned because of the decision to serve alcohol in some of the society’s restaurants.1313 Both in Solidar and in the Newcastle Society, the sale of alcoholic beverages was a controversial issue. It is easier in the latter case to size up how strong the resistance actually was. The member meeting in the Newcastle Society took a vote on the matter, and the voting figures tell us something about the relative strength of the temperance people in the society. In Solidar, on the other hand, the only evidence we have are the articulated protests against the application for a licence. But the debate on the sale of liquor led to a split in the board, something which the society had not witnessed for several decades. Yet, there are no voting figures to indicate how widespread these sentiments were. Now, the reason why our knowledge of the strength of the temperance group is unevenly distributed between the two societies lies in the different democratic organisation of the societies. One mode of democratic organisation leads to the production of certain documents, absent in another type of democratic organisation. Thus, the fact that the alcohol question followed different organisational tracks is itself valuable information. It corroborates our global assessment of the two societies. Note also that the outcome in this particular issue was the same in both societies. Regardless of which organisation channels were used, it proved difficult to influence the societies to remove a class of products and thereby narrow down the selection for all members. Let us now look at our second example of a section of the membership protesting against the sale of a particular class of goods: South African products. An official boycott of South African goods in Britain was suggested to take place in March 1960. The Co-operative Union issued an advice to its member societies that they should not stop buying South African goods, but instead mark the products so that customers could make the choice for themselves. The board of the Newcastle Society decided to follow this advice. This solution was not to the liking of all members, and at the quarterly meeting in January 1960 some members protested against the decision. The chairman informed the protesting members that boycotting these goods was a personal protest against racial policy, and that the society could not impose “…its will on the personal conscience of the Pub- ––––––––– 1311 Protokoll fört vid möte med Solidars Medlemsråd 14/2 1946. 1312 Protokoll fört vid möte med Solidars Medlemsråd 18/3 1946. 1313 Protokoll distrikt 3, 28/3 1946.

424 lic”.1314 The protesting members were apparently not many enough to venture a resolution to force the society to join in the boycott. Those members who were critical of South Africa had to content themselves with using the opportunity to refrain from buying the marked products in the store. In Solidar there was no debate in 1960 about a boycott. However, in 1964 KF joined in a national boycott of South African products, and the board of Solidar ensured concerned members that the society was not selling any boycotted goods.1315 This turned out to be a historical parenthesis. When KF resumed its purchases from South Africa, so did Solidar. The question came up again in 1978, and the way it was resolved justifies a detour outside the period of our inquiry. In the annual report from 1978, we find an article entitled “Äpplen med bismak” (Appels with a tinge). The topic was the oppression and violation of human rights in South Africa. There is little we can do as isolated individuals, the author maintained, but together people can contribute to a change. A boycott would be ineffectual if it is limited to Sweden: only a global boycott would yield any results. It was nevertheless pointed out that KF had tried to get the other wholesalers in Sweden to join them in a boycott, but that the federal organisation had not succeeded. In the end, KF and Solidar opted for the same solution as the Co-operative Union and the board of the Newcastle Society, namely to mark the goods from South Africa in the stores, so as to make it possible for the members to make their own choice.1316 If there is one lesson to be learned from these examples, it is perhaps that it was easier for these consumer co-operative societies to add than to take away particular classes of products. Or rather: the conditions for adding products and services differ from those which are in operation when a class of products is to be removed for principal reasons. In the latter case, the procedure resembles what we find in our discussion on the distribution of surplus. The members of the Newcastle Society have to muster sufficient support to get a decision carried at a member meeting; decisions in Solidar are taken by the board and management. In Solidar, the fate of alcoholic beverages and South African products is an echo from the decision in 1927 to continue to import American wheat flour. The chief executive’s response then, that the society should buy what it can sell to the members, applies in these cases as well. In the Newcastle Society the temperance people’s attempt to vote against alcohol is a replica of the mobilisation for other causes, even if the attempt was aborted this time. Both societies resorted to compromise solutions. If certain classes of goods are repugnant to part of the membership, and if they will not be taken away, the discontented members could at least be offered the opportunity to make their choice in the store. But this decision in fact meant that it was the society, not the sellers in South Africa, that accepted the risk of economic loss, and thus took the edge of a possible boycott. ––––––––– 1314 Minutes 395th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1960. Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1960. 1315 Protokoll distrikt St Petri, 10/4 1964. 1316 Vår verksamhet – 78 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 12.

425 As we already know, the process of adding new services and goods to the selection followed a different pattern. We shall not reiterate the summary we gave above as to how this dynamic worked. It is enough to underline that, despite pro- hibitions in the rules, the members took their complaints to the meetings, and that the district meetings in Solidar were more adapted to an advisory role, and thereby to channel consumer demand, than the member meeting in the Newcastle Society. Next, we shall continue the exposé over members’ demands on the co- operative services. We will redirect our attention, from the selection of goods to issues related to the expansion and modernisation of the stores.

3.2 The expansion of store structure and the modernisation of stores Members of the Newcastle society did make efforts to influence the development of the co-operative services. The member meeting may have been unaccustomed to an advisory role, and its usual procedures of rallying support may have been ill-equipped for dealing with the expansion of the selection of goods and services, but there are also other issues involved in this area. This is what we find when we turn to members’ comments on questions of expansion and modernisation of the stores. Consider first the example of the decision in 1863 to close the first branch store in Scotswood Road and replace it with a delivery service. We have discussed this elsewhere, and there is no need to go over the details again. The example is nevertheless instructive, for it shows a very cost-conscious membership guarding the possible uses of the society’s resources. Members of the Newcastle Society continued to be sceptical of the opening of new stores. In 1894 they wished to have guarantees that the board would not open any new branches without consulting the member meeting.1317 And the year before that the January meeting had been sceptical about modernising the central premises.1318 The list could go on. In 1904 members recommended the board to close the Scotswood Road Drapery Department.1319 At the quarterly meeting in April 1918 it was proposed that ”…in future no branches of the Society be opened by the Board of Management without the sanction of the members having first been obtained at a quarterly meeting”.1320 This motion was lost, but it still bears witness that the members were anxious about the expansion of the store structure. The question, then, is why they were sceptical. The answer is not that they were cost- minded in general, but that building branches and stores and modernising premises absorbed society resources which could have been used in other ways. Buil- ding a particular branch competed, not only with other possible branch estab- lishments, but also with other ends, e.g. keeping down prices, receiving a dividend, and getting more surplus to distribute. The last example above illustrates ––––––––– 1317 Minutes 132nd Quarterly General Meeting, 25th April 1894. 1318 Minutes 127th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th January 1893. 1319 Minutes 171th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th January 1904. 1320 Minutes 228th Quarterly Meeting 24th April 1918.

426 this neatly. In 1918 the members thought that the dividend and the reduction of prices should be the board’s priority. This, however, is the topic of the next section. Yet, if some members wanted to keep a check on the expansion of the society’s business operations, other members demanded new stores in their area. On the one hand, we have groups outside the society who wished for co-operative stores in particular areas. This is illustrated both by the Elswick workers who demanded – and got – a store in Scotswood, and by the inhabitants of Scotswood village who failed to get a store.1321 On the other hand, there are demands from members to the same effect. In 1927 members at the quarterly meeting in April pointed out that they wished for a branch in High West Jesmond.1322 Their wishes were fulfilled two years later. In December 1929 a branch was established in Newton Road. This is not exactly High West Jesmond, but it is High Jesmond and since Fern Avenue was already established in the west of Jesmond, a second branch on that side would probably not have been wise from a business perspective.1323 More examples can be added. At a quarterly meeting in 1953, for example, Mrs Hall requested travelling greengrocery shops. The chairman explained that travelling greengrocery shops had been tried in the past, without success. He nevertheless promised that the board would consider the matter.1324 After having considered the matter for a year, the board decided to make a second attempt, and at the quarterly meeting in April in 1954 the chairman said that a few greengrocery travelling shops would be introduced to “…help the people on the far flung estates”.1325 Since the end of the 19th century the board had also had the authority to take decisions relating to the establishment of branches and to modernisation. But, as we have seen in the examples above, this did not prevent members from med- dling in such decisions. The board was also forthcoming towards members who demanded new branches and stores. This is what we would expect. Their strategy for expansion was to locate branches in areas where members already lived. In fact, the board would often anticipate explicit member demands and build where they thought a store would be needed. This may or may not be what happened at the member meeting in January 1950: the chairman explained that, for the moment, the local authorities were prohibiting them from building new branches, but the society was working around this obstacle by taking over and rebuilding already established stores. Three new premises had been acquired in this way, and one of them – the one in Albion Row – would hopefully relieve the congestion at the St. Michael's Road Branch. In this way, he stated, the society continued to meet the needs of the members.1326 ––––––––– 1321 See Part Three, Chapter 2. 1322 Minutes 264th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th April 1927. 1323 Presenting Newcastle Co-op Services, (1951), Record of Branch Developments in the middle of the booklet. 1324 Minutes 368th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th April 1953. 1325 Minutes 372nd Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1954. 1326 Minutes 355th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th January 1950.

427 The reference to congestion quoted above sends us off in a slightly different direction, namely opening hours. At times, members complained about opening hours and long queues in the stores.1327 This, however, was a contentious issue in several respects. For one thing, the demands on longer opening hours could col- lide with other members’ demands for a shorter working week for employees. And underneath both these suggestions lies questions about how the society’s resources should be used. In order to have longer opening hours, and in order to give employees a shorter working week, the society would have to employ more staff. Employing more shop assistants would cost money, and the majority of members at the member meetings were not prepared to grant such additional costs. We find an example of such a conflict in the Newcastle Society in 1892, when a member demanded a 48-hour week for the employees. The directors proposed an amendment that the stores should close one hour earlier one day a week. If the members wanted to implement the more generous reduction, the directors explained, more staff would have to be hired, and that would cost money. The amendment was carried.1328 It goes without saying that the trade union of the shop assistants was also an actor in the negotiations about opening hours. In the late 1940s the Newcastle Society closed its confectionary stores after lunch on Saturdays. According to some members, this had led to chaos, with long queues and crammed stores.1329 Mr Mallabar reacted against the board's decision to close the stores on Saturday afternoons. He thought that the board ought to have asked the member meeting first. The chairman defended himself by saying that this decision had been taken before he was elected in April 1949.1330 The answer which Mallabar got was not really adequate. The chairman could have informed him about the ongoing negotiations with the employees. Not until 1959, however, did the trade union representatives for the staff in the co-operative stores agree to Saturday afternoon opening.1331 Changes in the store structure were not limited to an expansion of the number of stores. There was also the conversion into self-service, beginning in 1955. For various reasons, this change did not provoke much controversy amongst the membership. The introduction was comparatively late, gradual, and took place without much drama. Moreover, the conversion into self-service did not coincide with the rationalisation of stores. The new practice of shopping was thus not perceived to be the cause of disappearing stores. In the minutes from the member meeting in July 1955 members rather seemed enthusiastic about the novelty:

––––––––– 1327 Complaints on changes in opening hours that result in crowded stores. Minutes 348th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1948. 1328 Minutes 124th Quarterly General Meeting, 24th April 1892. 1329 Minutes 354th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th October 1949. Minutes 374th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1954. 1330 Minutes 355th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th January 1950. 1331 Minutes 392nd Quarterly General Meeting, 29th April 1959.

428 The new West Road Branch when completed was to become a Self Ser- vice Shop – the first in the Society, and the existing Pantry Shop would be converted into a Self Selection Confectionery shop. /…/ Mr. Clayton seconded the report which he said was admirable and commendable. He was pleased to learn of the proposed self service shop which he hoped would be an outstanding success and a pointer to more.1332 It is difficult to know, of course, how the conversion was received by shopping members in general. The hesitation of the board to introduce self-service in 1952 was not provoked by any negative comments from members at quarterly meetings that year. And as we saw in the quote above, at least some members welcomed the change when it was introduced. Moreover, there were members who wished for the conversion to go faster. When the annual report was up for approval at the member meeting in July 1958, the seconder, Mr Clark, took the opportunity to suggest that the board ought to consider rebuilding and converting the High Cross Branch into a self-service shop.1333 This particular branch was indeed converted into self-service in 1963.1334 The new self-service stores – and, some ten years later, the supermarkets – were modernisations of the store structure which the society was proud to present. Film-footage from the opening of the self-service store in Denton Burn shows a large and excited crowd queuing outside the store. And when they enter the store, they wander around looking at the giant freezers, the butcher counter, and the delicatessen counter.1335 To be sure, the opening of a new branch store had always been an important event in a local society.1336 Being filmed presumably also added to the excitement, but this was after all a new way of shopping, and it is reasonable to assume that part of the excitement derived from the event itself. Be that as it may. The crucial thing here is the absence of critical voices. Regardless of what members thought of self-service, they did not bring them to the member meetings. So if members’ comments in the 1950s and 1960s were not focused on complaining about the conversion into self-service, what sort of issues did they bring up? Members were, among other things, curious to know about new premises. In 1953, Mr Mallabar wanted to find out if the board had considered an establishment in a proposed new shopping-centre. The chairman answered him that some tentative enquiries about premises had been made, and it was possible that the society would establish a store there.1337 In these types of remarks, the members appear as lay strategists, prompting and advising the board on what would be the best course of action. This is not dissimilar to the role assumed by members in Solidar. The key difference between the two societies is that the number of lay

––––––––– 1332 Minutes 377th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1955. 1333 Minutes 389th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1958. 1334 See Part Two, section 2.1, 1335 ”NCFC285 Opening of Denton Burn Co-op”, in The British Co-operative Movement Film Cata- logue, complied and edited by Alan Burton, (1997), Flick Books, p. 141. 1336 Kelly (1995), chapters “The Store” and “Tea-party Idealism”. 1337 Minutes 370th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1953.

429 strategists in the Newcastle Society is very limited, whereas they extend to a very wide circle of people in Solidar. There is a somewhat closer resemblance between these lay strategists and the member council representatives in Solidar. They, too, could offer advice to the board on more general matters, such as how to advertise a particular product. Yet, in the Newcastle Society the advisors are self-appointed, as opposed to the elected intermediaries in Solidar. A similar incident dates from 1956, when Mr Clayton comments on a development programme presented by the board. Clayton wanted to know if it was correct that there were no plans to establish any premises in the main shopping areas of the city. The chairman answered him that these areas had been up for discussion, but that the board “did not intend to spend fabulous sums of money for these premises”.1338 There is yet another example of the same in 1957. The issue at stake was the imminent decision to purchase the business of Henry A. Murton Ltd. at 68-82 Grainger Street, not far from the emporium. The chairman motivated the purchase of this business by saying that the society needed more sale space in the centre of Newcastle. Those members who opposed this affair thought that the society should rather continue to expand the department store in Newgate Street. In the end, the majority gave their consent and the affair could proceed.1339 Again, however, the members acted as prompters. One final example gives a clue as to why the group of prompters was rather circumscribed in the Newcastle Society. In 1963, Mr Fendley, a member who usually praised the actions of the board, was concerned and critical. Mr Fendley was of the opinion that the Dry Goods Department which showed the greatest profit should have a little more concentration of effort. He felt the Fuel Department was not working to the fullest potential and the order office arrangements could be improved. He referred to the Hire-purchase Department and felt some effort should be made to retain customers after the Hire-purchase accounts had been settled.1340 Now, Fendley’s comments are highly technical, and presuppose a fair amount of knowledge about the society and its operations. On closer inspection, this is indeed the common denominator in all our examples of members acting as lay strategists, and such insights were presumably rare and limited to those who, in one way or another, had been deeply involved with the society. However, members were still keeping an eye on the resources of the society and on the alternative costs of particular decisions. We find examples of that in the 1960s as well. At the end of 1959 the chairman declared that the board and management had to be “…flexible in relation to consumer demands these times”; he continued, however, in a more confident tone adding that the society “remained the largest retail organisation in the City”.1341 But as it turned out, the 1960s became a difficult time for the society. Throughout the decade, the chair-

––––––––– 1338 Minutes 380th Quarterly General Meeting, 25th April 1956. 1339 Minutes 385th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st July 1957. 1340 Minutes Half Yearly Meeting, 30th October 1963. 1341 Minutes 394th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th October 1959.

430 man had to comment on drops in sales, increased costs, and difficulties in acquiring new premises. He also had to defend the use of much of the society’s resources to modernise old premises and develop new ones. One reason why such decisions were contentious was that they diminished the dividend. At the quarterly meeting in April 1961, for example, members expressed their dissatisfaction with a dividend of 1/2d in the £. The chairman could only respond that… …it was a question of sales and expenses which ultimately determined the dividend rate. We were re-modernising many of our shops to offer greater facilities, in an effort to increase returns.1342 We will postpone further dividend discussions until the next section. For the time being, it remains only to say a few more words about the 1960s before we go into the corresponding developments in Solidar. From the middle of the 1960s the society was expanding its business into new kinds of stores – supermarkets – at the same time as it was closing some old branches, either because they were uneconomic or because of slum clearances in the west and east ends of the city. There are relatively few comments about these matters in the minutes. Member meetings in the late 1960s were far from un- eventful. Yet, it was changes in the dividend on purchase and in the collective life assurance scheme that rallied members to the quarterly and later half-yearly meetings. Changes in the store structure did not provoke members to act at the meetings. This absence of protests seems less surprising when we add that rationalisation remained on a very limited scale. The more drastic changes in this respect came after the Newcastle Society had joined the NECS in 1970. This, however, is outside of our period of inquiry. Let us instead redirect our focus to Malmö and Solidar. Our survey takes off properly in the 1930s, for it was in the second half of the 1920s and at the beginning of the 1930s that the store structure of Solidar began to expand. As for the 1910s and early 1920s, the members’ opinions about the building of a bakery and the purchase of property have already been covered in previous parts and chapters. Apart from these few stores, the chart of store development in Solidar shows a marked turn upwards in 1925. These stores, however, were brought into the society through the amalgamation with Seger, Konsumtionsföreningen Lim- hamn, and Andelsföreningen Rosengård. There are other aspects of the amalgamation, however, which are relevant to later, internally driven developments in the store structure. When the “new” Solidar was formed in 1925, members from the formerly independent societies found themselves being members of one of the largest societies in Sweden, and the leaders of this society had plans for more. In the annual report from 1926 the members were told that, as soon as possible, new stores would be established in all districts of the society, particularly in those districts which had so far been disadvantaged.1343 Thus, in the early 1930s, the expansion of the business had top priority. Establishing new stores, and modernising the old ––––––––– 1342 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1961. 1343 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser 1926, pp.10-11, in FKFS 1907-1940.

431 ones, took precedence over other ventures. Just as in the Newcastle Society this meant that expansion was perceived to compete with other possible uses of the society’s resources, at least in the short run. At the annual society meeting in 1931, one of the representatives on the member council argued for a further reduction of the price of milk. The chief executive did not agree. Emil Olsson was of the opinion that Solidar’s control of Malmö Mejerier AB vouched for low prices on milk and milk products. He explained that the price of milk had in fact not increased, for wages had also gone up. The member in question would not accept this explanation and renewed his demand for a further reduction of the price of milk. Olsson went on to say that this was not possible since the main priority at the time was to satisfy all the demands on more and modernised stores. The resources of the society must, he argued, be used for that purpose.1344 Members were thus told to expect more and modernised stores. And the membership took up on this invitation. One thing which they demanded was that new stores should be built. Between 1930 and 1970, remarks of this type are largely concentrated to the period between 1930 and 1946 and to the early 1960s.1345 There is an underlying pattern here: requests that the society should build or buy a store came from the areas where the prospected stores would be placed, and generally from members who had belonged to societies which had recently joined Solidar. Yet, the newly arrived were not alone in having complaints about store density. At the beginning of the 1940s members started to demand new stores with the motivation that it was too long a walk to the existing store(s) in the district. Underneath the first pattern we thus find a second and more general one. Another issue that came up in the early 1940s was that the old stores were in need of modernisation. This kind of complaint continued to be a topic at district meetings throughout the 1950s and the beginning of the 1960s.1346 Insofar as the complaints related to improvements of existing stores, three types of demands

––––––––– 1344 Protokoll föreningsstämma, 29/4 1931. 1345 Protokoll distriktsstämma 7:e Fosie 27/3 1933. Protokoll distriktsstämma 5:e Kulladal 27/3 1935. Protokoll distriktsstämma 9:e Vellinge 25/3 1935. Protokoll distriktsstämma 7:e Fosie 27/3 1935. Protokoll distriktsstämma 7:e Fosie 31/3 1936. Protokoll distriktsstämma 10:e Arlöv 29/3 1936. Protokoll distriktsstämma 12:e Virentofta 31/3 1936 (2). Protokoll distriktsstämma 9:e Vellinge 21/3 1937. Protokoll distriktsstämma 2:a distriktet 27/3 1942. Protokoll distriktsstämma 9:e Vel- linge 30/3 1943. Protokoll distriktsstämma 10:e Arlöv 24/3 1945. Protokoll distriktsstämma 14:e Klagshamn 30/3 1946. Protokoll distriktsstämma Arlöv 16/4 1950. Protokoll distriktsstämma Klag- shamn/Vintrie 8/4 1961. Protokoll distriktsstämma Lund västra distriktet 6/4 1961. Protokoll di- striktsstämma Fosie 13/4 1962. Protokoll distriktsstämma Klagshamn/Vintrie no exact date 1962. Protokoll distriktsstämma Lunds västra distrikt no exact date 1962. Protokoll distriktsstämma Fosie 10/4 1963. Protokoll distriktsstämma Arlöv 7/4 1963. 1346 Protokoll distriktsstämma 3:e distriktet 22/3 1937. Protokoll distriktsstämma 8:e Lomma 25/3 1940. Protokoll distriktsstämma 8:e Lomma 26/3 1945. Protokoll distriktsstämma 10:e Arlöv 25/3 1946. Protokoll distriktsstämma 6:e Limhamn 31/3 1948. Protokoll distriktsstämma 7:e Fosie 31/3 1948. Protokoll distriktsstämma 10:e Arlöv 4/4 1948. Protokoll distriktsstämma 6:e Limhamn 30/3 1949. Protokoll distriktsstämma Lomma 8/4 1952. Protokoll distriktsstämma Limhamn 26/3 1957. Protokoll distriktsstämma Lomma 4/4 1961. Protokoll distriktsstämma Arlöv 9/4 1961.

432 dominated. The members wanted warmer stores, larger stores, and stores that were easier to clean. While the first wish may seem odd, it becomes less enigmatic when we add that demands for warmer stores concerned those stores where members could mangle their laundry. The members wanted to have radiators near the mangles, so that the housewives would not freeze when handling the laundry.1347 Just as in the Newcastle Society, members used their expertise to prompt the board what to do. We find an example of this at a district meeting in Lomma. The members pointed out that the store in Lilla Lomma was too small and that housewives had to stand outside the store until it was their turn. They did not come unprepared. In fact, they had worked out a solution of their own, and their suggested solution was that Solidar should take over a store that was up for sale. The members had already gone through the effort of finding out the price for the prospected store.1348 There is a key difference between these members and those who advised the board at member meetings in the Newcastle Society. In both cases, the members-cum-prompters make use of their expertise, but the type of expertise we are dealing with differs. In the Newcastle Society members who acted as lay strategists knew plenty about the society and its operations; in Solidar the expertise which members shared with the board and management mainly concerned local conditions in their own district. Another issue related to store structure was self-service, introduced in Solidar in 1949. This was the cause of many different kinds of discussions at the district meetings. We have already encountered a few complaints in this area, e.g. concerning the effects of the introduction of self-service on the selection in the stores. A few additional examples will give a picture of the variety of member comments in this regard. We will begin at a district meeting in Limhamn in 1952, where advocators and critics debated the pros and cons of self-service. Di- rector Mauritz Mårtensson was present, and tried his best to emphasise the pros and play down the cons. He reminded the critical members that Solidar had over 400 stores, and that only 6 of them were self-service stores. If they did not feel at ease with this new method of shopping, they had plenty of stores to choose from. ––––––––– 1347 Protokoll distriktsstämma 5:e distriktet 28/3 1933. Protokoll distriktsstämma 6:e Limhamn 26/1 1933. Protokoll distriktsstämma 5:e Kulladal 27/3 1935. Protokoll distriktsstämma 6:e Limhamn, 29/3 1936. Protokoll distriktsstämma 6:e Limhamn 25/3 1942. Protokoll distriktsstämma 8:e Lom- ma 29/3 1943. Protokoll distriktsstämma 2:e Kirseberg 29/3 1944. Protokoll distriktsstämma 6:e Limhamn 25/3 1946. Protokoll distriktsstämma 7:e Fosie 27/3 1946. Protokoll distriktsstämma 11:e Åkarp 25/3 1946. Protokoll distriktsstämma 11:e Åkarp 31/3 1948. Protokoll distriktsstämma An- derslöv 16/4 1950. Protokoll distriktsstämma Husie 9/4 1952. Protokoll distriktsstämma Lomma 1/4 1954. Protokoll distriktsstämma Höllviken no exact date 1954. Protokoll distriktsstämma Höll- viken 7/4 1955. Protokoll distriktsstämma Husie 6/4 1955. Protokoll distriktsstämma S:t Petri 6/4 1956. Protokoll distriktsstämma Slottsstaden 5/4 1956. Protokoll distriktsstämma Kirsebergsstaden 27/3 1956. Protokoll distriktsstämma Möllevången 5/4 1956. Protokoll distriktsstämma Åkarp 6/4 1957. Protokoll distriktsstämma Vellinge 29/3 1958. Protokoll distriktsstämma Fosie 6/4 1961. Pro- tokoll distriktsstämma Klågerup no exact date 1962. Protokoll distriktsstämma Kirseberg 4/4 1963. Protokoll distriktsstämma V. Skrävlinge 5/4 1963. Protokoll distriktsstämma Fosie 10/4 1963. Pro- tokoll distriktsstämma S:t Pauli/Möllevången 6/4 1964. 1348 Protokoll distrikt 8 Lomma, 29/3 1943.

433 After the meeting, when they all were drinking coffee, his persuasion campaign continued. Alluding to the fact that they had all just served themselves coffee and fetched their own cups and cakes, he asked, rhetorically, if self-service was perhaps not such a bad idea after all.1349 There were also questions of an entirely different character. At a district meeting in Slottsstaden in the city of Malmö Mr Rasmusson asked whether the conversion into self-service would cut costs. The chairman said that it was too early to tell, but that it was certain that the sale per shop assistant increased in the self- service stores – and, in the long run, this would imply reduced costs.1350 The tone of this remark is no doubt more positive than apprehensive or dismissive. A good portion of the membership in fact seem to have greeted this new method of shopping with confidence. Since the district meetings did not have the authority to take decisions, we do not know the ratio of positive over negative members. But there are occasional exceptions. In 1958, when the board and management planned to convert a store in Vellinge into self-service, they decided to take a vote at the local district meeting. The vote would only be consultative, but the board would take the outcome into consideration. Only the housewives present at the meeting were asked to vote. The result showed that 27 approved of the conversion and 21 were against it.1351 Even if this material is too feeble for us to base any conclusions on, the example does show that there were members in favour of this particular modernisation of the stores. The conversion into self-service was not the only change in Solidar’s store structure during the 1950s. In 1956 the society opened a new discount store called Centralköp. It was situated next to the central warehouse at the corner of Parkgatan and Spångatan, hence the name of the store. The discount was made possible by the proximity between warehouse and store. There is a note about the background of this novelty at a 1956 district meeting in Möllevången in Malmö’s city centre. According to Sven Gustafsson, the chief executive, who chaired the district meeting, the new discount store had been introduced because members had requested it. Members at this particular meeting had no direct comments on the issue, apart from declaring that they would like to see more information about this store model in Vi, the co-operative journal.1352 Yet, Cen- tralköp did make a stir at the district meetings. At six out of the twenty district meetings in 1956 members wanted to discuss this new store.1353 Again, we shall resort to examples for elucidation. At the district meeting in St Petri in Malmö Mr Malmquist – a representative on the member council – argued that Solidar’s turnover figures were not good enough. Prices had increased by 6 per cent, and the population of Malmö had increased by some 6,000 people during the last year. He believed the society could ––––––––– 1349 Protokoll distrikt, Limhamn 9/4 1952. 1350 Protokoll distrikt Slottsstaden tisdag 6/4 1954. 1351 Protokoll distrikt Vellinge 29/3 1958. 1352 Protokoll distrikt Möllevången 5/4 1956. 1353 See Protokoll distrikt S:t Petri, 6/4 1956. Protokoll distrikt Slottsstaden, 5/4 1956. Protokoll distrikt Limhamn, 27/3 1956. Protokoll distrikt Möllevången, 5/4 1956. Protokoll distrikt Husie, 4/4 1956. Protokoll distrikt Åkarp, 7/4 1956.

434 do better than the previous year’s result. The new Centralköp was a step in the right direction, he thought, and it was a pity that the society had not advertised its advantages more. One of the directors, Mrs Berg, responded that she too regret- ted that the turnover was decreasing, but she did not think that more stores would be the solution. She believed that consumers, including herself, were above all interested in convenience and would not like to walk or travel to the centre of Malmö to make their purchases. In her opinion Solidar would provide best for its members by having first-class stores in the districts where members lived.1354 We find the same constellation with enthusiastic members and a hesitant board at the district meeting in Kirseberg 1956. Many members were so thrilled with the idea of Centralköp that they wanted one in their area as well. There were also suggestions that Solidar should sell certain products at a reduced price in all stores – for instance by a discount on tins if the customer bought larger quantities – which indicates that the main attraction of the discount store was low prices. Mr Gruveman, who was the representative from the board at the meeting, said that he did not think that Centralköp was the future. Like Mrs Berg he thought that people wanted convenience and therefore did not want to give up their old ways of shopping. Moreover, he explained, there could only be one Centralköp, and it had to be big and located next to the central warehouse in order to be profitable.1355 The basic and perhaps the only problem with the discount stores from these members’ point of view was that it was a very scarce resource. There could only be one, and it had to be located somewhere. In other words, those members who were fortunate enough to live nearby had access to something which was not as easily attainable to members in other districts. With the introduction of Cen- tralköp, many members in Malmö thus made the same experience as countryside members had made for a long time. They, too, could get a feeling of relative dep- rivation, of being disadvantaged when Solidar introduced a new service, in this case a new kind of store. This brings us back to a point which we elaborated on in the last section, namely that rival demands on the society’s services tend to follow geographical lines. Because of the many amalgamations after 1925, the trading area of Solidar expanded rapidly. This expansion prepared the ground for conflicts between members in different districts. In the districts outside Malmö, for example, there were complaints about late deliveries of some articles to the stores as early as the beginning of the 1930s. Similar complaints came up at district meetings in the late 1940s and early 1950s.1356 Members in fringe districts also complained that they did not receive the same quality of service as members

––––––––– 1354 Protokoll distrikt S:t Petri, 6/4 1956. 1355 Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg, 27/3 1956. 1356 It was stated that the bread bus must come to Lomma earlier in the morning because if it did not people (members and non-members) would buy their bread in other stores. No district or exact date is mentioned though the minutes in question is from 1933 and gathering from what is discussed in the minutes it is easy to see that it must be the minutes from the 8th district that is Lomma, See also Protokoll 8:e distriktet Lomma no exact date 1933. Protokoll distrikt 10 Arlöv 4/4 1949. Protokoll distrikt 12, 30/3 1949. Protokoll distrikt 12, 12/4 1950. Protokoll distrikt 17 Höllviksnäs, 6/4 1950.

435 living in the centre of Malmö. They complained about shortcomings in staffing in their district, and argued that the city centre was favoured at their expense.1357 The same pattern of geographically based divisions repeated itself when the Domus department store was built in 1958. Distress about the effects of this in- novation was felt even before the department store had opened. Members in Limhamn were worried that dry goods stores would be closing down when the sales of all sorts of dry goods was concentrated to Domus.1358 Their fears were not unfounded. When Domus had opened, these members discovered that they had to travel to the centre of Malmö in order to get hold of certain goods, e.g. flower pots. Representatives from the board explained that such goods could be sold at a lower price at Domus than in the stores in the different districts; centralisation was justified from an economic perspective.1359 The members of the countryside districts also experienced other kinds of problems in connection with the building of Domus. At the district meeting in Vellinge in 1957, the members asked for a refrigerated counter for the local butcher store. By 1958, they still had not heard anything about it. Remarking upon this state of affairs, Mrs Blom- berg said, with more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice, that she was sure that they would get their counter once the Domus fever had settled. Chief executive Gustafsson immediately promised the members in Vellinge a new refrigerated counter.1360 Both Centralköp and Domus are linked to rationalisation and to economy of scale. This rationalisation of the store structure continued and accelerated in the 1960s. As shown in Part Two, the number of store peaks in the first half of the 1950s and plunges in the second half. The decrease in the 1960s was in fact even sharper than the figures reveal: the number of stores continued to fall in spite of the fact that, in this decade, eight societies amalgamated with Solidar and brought a number of stores with them. It is plain to see, then, that concentration efforts were made in the whole trading area. It would be wrong, however, to see this process as driven by the board against the will of the members. As we saw above, it was directors Berg and Gruveman who were sceptical of the merits of the discount store and provided a counter- weight to enthusiastic members at the district meetings. To be sure, other members on the board were presumably more positive to rationalisation, but the point is that this issue split both board and membership. The desire for low prices, which is one of the topics of the next section, was pitted against the wish to keep stores within the neighbourhood. If we examine how complaints were distributed over different categories in the 1960s, we find that comments on prices and on the closure of stores top the chart. Two intersecting principles thus operate at the same time. One conflict line goes between keeping a dense store structure and keeping prices down, another one follows district boundaries. By the time of the 1960s, moreover, it was not only the fringe areas that were affected by closing ––––––––– 1357 Protokoll distrikt 12 Virentofta 25/3 1946. 1358 Protokoll distrikt Limhamn 26/3 1957. 1359 Protokoll distrikt Västra Skrävlinge 5/4 1960. 1360 Protokoll distrikt Vellinge 29/3 1958.

436 stores. Hence, critical remarks on this topic are more evenly spread over the trading area than in previous decades. Let us see, in a little more empirical detail, how these conflicts worked themselves out. At the 1960 district meeting in Kirseberga, situated in the eastern part of Malmö, the board representative notified the members that some of the unprofitable stores in their area would have to close. Mr Albert Lundborg welcomed this decision. He thought the board was doing its best to manage, and he did not mind walking a bit further if he could shop in a modern store at low prices.1361 Members in Limhamn, however, were not so pleased. The local butcher store in Vikingagatan had been closed, and the board had decided instead to sell some meat products in a modernised former bread and milk store. At the district meeting in 1960 aggravated members protested against this decision and declared that the result would surely be that members turned to the private butcher stores to get the meat they wanted.1362 Anxious comments on rationalisation are found in Fosie as well: Mrs Anna Broman asked the board not to close too many stores or reduce the number of shop assistants. She was told that these changes were necessary to stay competitive.1363 Similar comments came up on the agenda at district meetings in the following years.1364 Decreasing store density due to rationalisations was thus a source of controversy. Apart from complaining about this state of affairs, members also proposed their own solutions and guarded those supplementary services which could make up for the loss of stores. In 1960, for example, Mr Erik Andersson in Åkarp suggested that Solidar should start to sell goods over the phone. The board representative promised that the board would consider this alternative.1365 And in 1965, the home delivery service offered by Solidar was up for discussion at several district meetings. Most of the remarks in this connection came from members who wondered how elderly people would be able to shop in the stores of the society when it was so far between the different stores. In Limhamn one member sug- ––––––––– 1361 Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg, 5/4 1960. 1362 Protokoll distrikt Limhamn, 29/3 1960. 1363 Protokoll distrikt Fosie, 6/4 1960. 1364 In Oxie members stated that the board of Solidar had not held what it had promised when Oxie joined the Society. They threatened to join the co-operative society in Svedala instead. Protokoll distrikt Oxie, 3/4 1960. In 1961 changes in the democratic system was mainly discussed at district meetings, however, at a couple of meetings the rationalisations were commented. In Limhamn the question about the closed butcher stores came up again. Protokoll distrikt Limhamn, 4/4 1961. In Lomma members stated that it too much to ask that “working housewives”, presumably housewives who had a paid job, should walk 1 kilometre to the nearest Solidar store. Protokoll distrikt Lomma, 9/4 1961. In 1962 members complained at the district meetings of two districts in Malmö about the closure of stores in their district. Utdrag ur protokollen från 1962 års distriktsstämmor, S:t Johannes och Husie and Möllevången. In 1964 members in Vellinge were very critical to the closure of the hardware store in their community. The members had been sceptical to the range of products on offer in the store and displeased with the shop assistants, nevertheless, if Solidar closed this store members would go to Wessels to buy hardware and then they would shop their food there as well. Utdrag ut protokollen från 1964 års distriktsstämmor, Vellinge. See also Utrdag ur protokollen från 1965 års distriktsstämmor, distrikt V. Skrävlinge, Fosie, Husie, Klågerup och Nordanå. Utdrag ur protokollen från 1966 års distriktsstämmor, distrikt Burlöv, Lomma. 1365 Protokoll distrikt Åkarp, 3/4 1960.

437 gested that elderly people should have the benefit of free home deliveries. In other districts members complained about the high service fee charged for this service. They told the board that improved home delivery services would miti- gate the ills brought on by rationalisations.1366 As we have already pointed out on more than one occasion store density was pitted against low prices. This had not always been the case. The next section will show that Solidar had a long legacy of pressing down prices, but the methods of keeping the prices low differ over time, and it is not until the second half of the 1950s that the society resorts to rationalisations to achieve this goal. Since many complaints at district meetings concerned prices, we must assume that this legacy continued to have a grip on a substantial part of the membership. Never- theless, things became more complicated when members were forced to choose between two desirable ends, i.e. store density and low prices. We see this, for example, at the district meeting at St Pauli and Möllevången in 1964. When the board representatives were finished with presenting Solidar’s development in 1964, one of the members, Mr Ivar Andersson, had a few caustic remarks to make. There was no reason, he said, for the directors to be so self- congratulatory. What the rationalisations described in the charts and tables of the annual report really mean is that members will have to walk further and further to shop in a co-op store. Andersson was answered by director Alfred Johansson. He told the members at the meeting that these rationalisations would result in a significant reduction of prices, and that this would benefit shopping members. Due to competition Solidar was forced to close down small and unprofitable units, but in the long run the critical members would also see the benefits of these measures.1367 This brings us to the topic of the next section, which treats prices and dividend on purchases.

3.3 Members’ opinions on dividend and price policy Let us begin this last section with summing up a few results we have obtained along the way. Our account so far has shown that there were stark differences between the two societies in terms of the member meeting’s formal authority to influence the distribution of the surplus. We have also seen – in this chapter – that the same organisational logic yields different results when we move our focus from the distribution of surplus to service developments. The contrast with distribution issues comes out most clearly in relation to demands on the selection of goods. In the Newcastle Society this was from very early on a question of everyday management, which the member meeting was not supposed to interfere with. To be sure, members nevertheless took their complaints to the member meeting, but even if votes were taken, the board and management were free to disregard them. Moreover, preferences for particular goods and services are rather randomly distributed amongst the membership, ––––––––– 1366 Utdrag ur protokollen från 1965 års distriktsstämmor, distrikten Limhamn och Klagshamn, Lomma och Burlöv, Vellinge, Skanör, Höllviken 1367 Protokoll S:t Pauli och Möllevången, 6/4 1964.

438 which means that the customary method of rallying support before the meeting was rather inefficient. The situation in Solidar was different. The advisory role assigned to member meetings worked better when it came to channelling such member demands on the co-operative retail services. This certainly does not mean that members always got what they asked for, but it did involve the members in the mundane work of developing the society. The situation is somewhat less clear-cut in the case of modernisation and expansion of the store structure. Demands in this area are, so to speak, suspended midway between the minute details of selection and the struggles over the distribution of surplus. It concerns investments and could in this sense be said to be- long to the conditions of management, but it also involves intricate planning and strategic deliberations of a type which must be made by the board and management. In the Newcastle Society the question of branch establishment slid from conditions of management to everyday management at the end of the 19th century. The members’ reactions to this are indicative of an ongoing struggle. Part of the membership wanted to bring back branch establishment to the domain of the member meeting and thus to recapture control over the use of the society’s resources. When that battle was lost, member demands on modernisation and expansion changed character. From then on, member comments either focused on getting a store in their area, or took on a character of expert advice from particularly initiated members. Neither of these varieties square very well with the pattern of mobilisation and articulation that applied to the struggle about resources in the Newcastle Society. It was highly compatible, however, with the democratic organisation of Solidar. The members of Solidar had very little authority to make decisions, but the various member meetings in the society were explicitly recognised by the board and management as advisory forums. Moreover, the district system introduced in 1925 was suited for mobilisation and articulation of demands along geographical lines. This is also what we found in our description of member demands on expansion and modernisation. In this final section, we shall devote attention to yet another aspect of members’ demands on the co-operative services: price policy and dividend on purchases. We have saved it to the last because it ties directly into issues of the distribution of surplus, while at the same time being an integral part of the co- operative services. Low prices and a high dividend rate detract from the surplus available for distribution. They impose costs which compete with surplus magnitude and with store development, but also with each other. As pointed out by Carr-Saunders et al, the relation is in fact even more complicated: The relation between price and dividend is a complex one – more complex than that between price and profit in capitalist organizations – for the rate of dividend and the level of prices both have a direct influence on purchases and, therefore, on turnover and costs.1368

––––––––– 1368 Carr-Saunders et al, (1938), pp. 117.

439 In our context, it is particularly instructive to keep in mind that both dividend rate and price affect the decision of member households as to how much they should buy from their society. In other words, price and dividend levels both tie into the household economy of the members, which in turn has repercussions for the economy of the society. But there are also differences between these two bo- ons. Dividend on purchase only benefits members. In the case of Solidar, it does extend to a slightly wider circle, for it includes those customers who had saved their receipts and decided to join before the end of the year. Low prices, on the other hand, are something that all customers in the co-operative stores can benefit from. Indeed, if the low prices in the co-operative stores pressure other retailers to cut their prices, you do not even have to shop at the Co-op in order to reap the benefits.1369 Our main interest in this section, however, is in how low prices are weighed against high dividend, and vice versa. We thus get back to the struggles over resources, and to the issue how the member meetings in the two societies – within the narrow or wide bounds accorded to them – could affect the development of co-operative retail services by going for either high dividends or low prices. We shall start with our British case. The Newcastle Society, it turns out, conforms to a national pattern described in the secondary literature. In the northern societies, including Scotland, the levels of dividend were high; in the south of England, co-operative societies could, with a few exceptions, maintain a policy of low dividends.1370 Members’ preoccupation with dividend does not show up in the minutes unless there were plans to reduce the rates of, or alter the conditions for, dividend on purchase. Until the 1940s, when dividend became a matter of debate at member meetings, it mainly comes up on the agenda when members set out to guard the high level of dividend from being tampered with. Yet, we will commence our account elsewhere, with member opinions on prices in the stores, and on price policy in general, and focus on the period from the end of the 19th to the middle of the 20th century. In doing so, we will un- avoidably touch upon the question of dividend as well, but the two themes can be separated in a meaningful way as far as the 1940s. Not so in the Swedish case. In Solidar, the themes become inextricably linked, since members themselves brought up the question of reducing the dividend to reduce prices. This has consequences for our exposition in this section. It begins with a discussion of members’ views on pricing in the Newcastle Society, roughly up until the middle of the 20th century. It then proceeds with an account of opinion on pricing and dividend in Solidar, before we finally get back Newcastle and examine the debate about dividend in the second half of the 20th century. In the Newcastle Society, prices made their appearance on the agenda of member meetings in connection with the First World War. Before that, the question of prices was rarely taken up at member meetings in the society. There were ––––––––– 1369 For a discussion about the relation between dividend and prices and its effects on benefits for members and consumers in general see Jonnergård et al, (1984), Chapter 6 Medlem – Konsument. 1370 Carr-Saunders, (1938), p. 114.

440 exceptions, of course, and we shall mention two of them. The first is taken from the quarterly meeting in July 1897, and it concerned transparency in the setting of prices. At that meeting, it was decided that “a price list be exhibited in the society’s premises with arrangements for showing alterations in prices as they arise”.1371 The second example dates from 1910, when members questioned whether they got their money’s worth when buying bread from the society. At the quarterly meeting in January 1910, one member asked about the difference in the size of loaves sold before and after the price of flour was raised. Mr W. J. Howat, the secretary, replied that, regrettably, the bread baked in Newcas- tle was not sold by weight, as the Act of Parliament stipulates. The local authorities allowed the loaves to be sold at a certain price, not in relation to weight, and “…bakers fixed the price according to the dictates of their own consciences”. The Newcastle Society had to do the same. Hence, the weight of loaves had been reduced, while still being sold at the same price. The secretary added – perhaps to soften the members’ critique – that the price of margarine, lard, butter, and other ingredients had also been raised.1372 Such comments at member meetings are, however, exceptions rather than the rule. It is during the First World War that prices really emerge on the agenda. In December 1916, when the rise in the cost of living was felt by many members, a special general member meeting was arranged to discuss the price policy of the society. A resolution was proposed declaring that “…this meeting of members view with alarm the continued high cost of living, and calls upon the Manage- ment to immediately reduce the prices of necessities of life.” Yet, this resolution did not receive the support of the majority of members. It was decided instead that copies of another resolution should be sent to the local Members of Parlia- ment. The carried resolution stated that: “…this meeting representing over 33,000 members of the Newcastle-upon-Tyne Co-operative Soc Ltd., urges upon the Government to immediately take action to control the prices of necessities of life, and thereby reduce the cost of war.”1373 Thus, members could not agree to make the society press down prices, but they could unite in an appeal to the government. The question of reducing prices came up again in the following year. But it was not until 1918 that the member meeting agreed to direct its protest directly at the board. So in 1918, the leaders of the society were urged to reduce the price on all articles which were not subjected to state price control.1374 By the look of it, it would appear as if it was the member who, faced with an extreme situation, instructed the board and management to actively reduce prices.

––––––––– 1371 Motion: “That it be an instruction to the Board to publish a complete price list yearly and one in sheets as at present monthly.” Amendment: “That a price list be exhibited in the Society’s premises with arrangements for showing alterations in prices as they arise.” Votes for the amendment 133, votes for the motion 77. Amendment carried. See Minutes 145th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th July 1897. 1372 From article from unknown newspaper, date 28 January 1910, inserted in minute book 1127/27. 1373 Minutes Special General Meeting, 20th December 1916. 1374 Minutes 223rd Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1917. Minutes 229th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st July 1918.

441 We get another picture if we review the same incident from a different angle and add some context to the story. At the quarterly meeting in October 1916 – two months before the vote for the first resolution quoted above – the auditor of the society advised the board and members to keep prices low. The government had introduced an excess profit duty tax, so as to reduce prices and stop profi- teering. The auditor’s point was that keeping down prices would keep down the surplus, and thus minimise tax payments for the society.1375 But keeping the surplus low would also reduce the dividend, and this particular consequence did not meet with sympathy from all the members present at the meeting. When the chairman revealed that the board had decided to set the dividend at 2 shillings in the £, i.e. a 10 per cent dividend on purchase, their decision was questioned. The members at the meeting protested, and launched a counter-proposal suggesting a higher dividend of 2/6 in the £. In defence of the board, the secretary said that the decision had been taken in accordance with the rules of the society. This, however, did not satisfy the protesting members, who responded by refusing to adopt the director’s report. After internal discussions on the platform, the board decided to dissolve the meeting.1376 The following meeting was the special general meeting in December, when the resolution for reducing prices was proposed. At that meeting, the chairman allowed questions about the excess profit duty tax but not about the level of dividend. The minutes remain silent as to whether or not the members finally adopted the report, but the question of dividend was not discussed and instead the resolution for reducing prices was presented.1377 Our first image of these events is not entirely false. The war imposed extreme conditions on the members, and some of them would surely be happy to see the society reduce its prices. Yet, we already know the fate of this particular resolution. Even if members were not allowed to bring up dividends at the meeting, they were by no means unaware of how the issues were related, and the motion was defeated. This explains the otherwise enigmatic refusal of the members to agree to a proposal that would have cut prices. It was easier for the member meeting to agree on a resolution that encouraged the government to do something about rising prices in general. Yet, the government had introduced the excess profit duty tax precisely for this purpose, i.e. to tackle the high price situation in the country. Hence, the members of the New- castle Society were battering at an open door, and the member meeting would have to agree to a different solution for the situation to change. A sequel to the story was to be expected, and it came at the January meeting in 1917. This time, the members present were in favour of giving the board the authority to make the best arrangements they could to meet any further liability of excess profit duty ––––––––– 1375 Co-operators did indeed oppose that the surplus of co-operative businesses was taxed like profit. Protest were handed into the government and the dissatisfaction with this situation was one of the reason why co-operators felt it necessary to engage themselves in politics. See Cole, (1947), pp. 267-268. However, no simple connection between aggravation over this tax and political involvement should be made, see Part One Section 3.1.3. 1376 Minutes 222nd Quarterly General Meeting, 25th October 1916. 1377 Minutes Special General Meeting, 20th December 1916.

442 tax. Indirectly, members had thereby agreed to work for reducing the price on goods sold in the society, even though the meeting did not pass any resolution explicitly stating such a policy. This was tantamount to giving a license, but not an instruction, to the board to reduce prices.1378 The story continued at the quarterly meeting in July 1918, where two of the speakers criticised the board’s recommendation regarding the distribution of the surplus. In times of rising prices, these members thought, the society should indeed do what it could to reduce prices, but this could be achieved without en- croaching upon the dividend rate, e.g. by using the sums distributed to depreciation and to the reserve fund. As it turns out, it was the remarks from these two members that led up to the decision, quoted above, to instruct the board to “…take into consideration the reduction of all articles which are un-controlled in price”. The fact that this resolution was carried unanimously demonstrates that the members present at the quarterly meeting in July 1918 wanted the board to reconsider their priorities when it came to the distribution of the surplus.1379 All in all, the members at this meeting wanted to take from reserves, or refrain from consolidation, in order to reduce escalating prices. Cutting prices is commendable, they maintained, but it should be done without changing the level of dividend. Indeed, this gives us the interpretive framework for an example which we quoted in the previous section: the attempt at the member meeting in April 1918 to limit the board’s discretion to decide on the establishment of branches. The message to the board was that society resources should not be used for expanding the number of branches and stores; if there was money available for such investments, it should rather be used to reduce prices while keeping the dividend up. By putting the resolutions for a reduction of prices into context, we can see that there was a tension between low prices and a high dividend on purchase, but that other factors also mattered. With the introduction of the excess profit duty tax, the government influenced the strategies of consumer co-operative societies. Economic incentives pushed boards to go for low prices and “low” dividends – provided, that is, that they could get the members to accept it. And even if the low-price policy got the acceptance of the member meeting, the members could still attempt to reduce other expenses instead of lowering the dividend rate. Thus, external factors matter a great deal, but the result of such impulses ultimately depends upon how they are channelled through the individual organisation. In the Inter-War Period, members’ complaints about prices appear in a slightly different context. At the quarterly meeting in October 1920, the question of prices on certain goods came up for discussion. Members made comparisons with the prices charged in non-co-operative shops, and it was agreed that the directors should inquire if it was possible to reduce prices.1380 The tendency is the same in the 1930s. Members complained about the price of butcher meat in the stores of the society, and claimed that these prices were higher than in other ––––––––– 1378 Minutes 223rd Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1917. 1379 Minutes 229th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st July 1918. 1380 Minutes 238th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1920.

443 stores. They also complained about the quality and price of coal. The board dismissed all these complaints with the argument that they were not based on facts.1381 While keeping low prices was not conceived as an end in itself, i.e. it was not perceived as the aim of co-operation, it was troublesome if competitors in Newcastle sold the same commodities at lower prices than the Co-op did. The fact that some members could make this kind of comparisons demonstrates that they either shopped around or at least checked out prices in other stores. In the late 1940s, the Newcastle Society – like many other co-operative societies – agreed to adopt a cut-price policy introduced by the government to prevent inflation. This policy was not popular with all members of the society. At the quarterly meeting in January 1949, the acting chairman stated that the cut-price policy "had played havoc with the dividend of co-operative societies". He still maintained that it was the society’s duty to stick with the 12-month agreement, which would end in April. By then, the whole effect on the budget of the society would be known.1382 Once again, pricing becomes linked to questions related to dividend. We will resume this thread below, after a discussion of the corresponding developments in Solidar and consider the effects of this policy on the dividend on purchase. Pricing as a separate issue pretty much disappears from the minute material in the Newcastle Society after the Second World War. One reason for this was that questions concerning differentiated dividends and the level of dividend on purchases more or less took over the member meetings. Another reason was the adoption – in July 1956 – of a price policy to sell at competitive prices, to co- operate with manufacturers, and to peg prices.1383 We will get back to dividend matters in the Newcastle Society shortly. For the time being, however, we shall investigate how the discussion of prices and dividend developed in Solidar, so as to make the most out of the contrastive comparison. From the very beginning, the question of prices was a much debated issue at Solidar’s member meetings. Minutes from a meeting in November 1908 reveals that there were proponents for different kinds of price policies amongst members. The board had decided to reduce the price on Solidar’s bread from 45 to 40 öre per loaf. The members who were present at the meeting reacted differently to this announcement. One member did not approve of the reduction, arguing that such a new store as Solidar needed to earn money; if there was any surplus, this should be distributed to the members. Mr Algren partly agreed with the first speaker, but he thought that it was important that the society sold the bread it produced at the same price as the other bakeries in Malmö. Mr Lidman, on the other hand, commended the board’s decision. He thought that once consumers in Malmö took note of this price reduction, Solidar would sell twice the amount of

––––––––– 1381 Butcher Meat excess of prices charged elsewhere. Also complaint about price and quality of Shil- bottle coal. Minutes 300th Quarterly General Meeting, 29th April 1936. That complaints on meat price, coal price and quality had no substitute in facts. Minutes 301st Quarterly General Meeting, 28th July 1936. 1382 Minutes 351st Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1949. 1383 Minutes 381st Quarterly General Meeting, 25th July 1956.

444 bread.1384 Thus, members of Solidar favoured either a market price or a cut-price policy.1385 In the long run, the cut-price policy won. As pointed out in the previous section, however, there are different ways of reducing prices. From the 1910s to the 1930s the society mainly reduced the price on those goods which Solidar produced. The strategy was thus to buy or purchase production units, make them as efficient as possible, and reduce the price on this particular class of goods. At a later stage, the society resorted to other means to achieve the same goal. The board had the member meeting’s sanction for their policy to act as price regulator in the bread business. This was confirmed in August 1914, when the board turned to the member meeting and asked what should be done about the price of bread. The First World War had just started, and the board wanted to find out about the members’ opinions on how the society should proceed. The members responded by telling the board that decisions concerning details about bread prices were for the directors to make, since the members lacked sufficient information. The board was not given carte blanche, for the meeting underlined that they wished for the society to remain a price regulator in the city.1386 This indicates that price was a main concern for the members, and we shall see more of that in the pages to come. The 1920s was the beginning of an age of expansion for Solidar. The number of services provided by the society grew, as did the number of stores and the range of products manufactured by the society. Given the method Solidar had chosen for cutting prices, the increasing number and variety of products manufactured by the society was very much in line with its adopted price policy. On the other hand, the board had also committed itself to increasing store density after the amalgamation in 1925. This expansion implied that a good portion of the resources was needed for investments in the business operation. There were members who were doubtful as to whether it was possible to combine the expansion in stores with the policy to reduce prices. At the Malmö district meeting in March 1926, Axel Grankvist – who was a member of the member council – stated that Solidar should not buy one property after the other. He though that the money should be used instead to reduce prices on goods, and to start up new co-operative production companies.1387 The question was brought up again at the annual society meeting in April that same year. At this meeting, Tage Nilsson pointed out that he did not like that the society tied up so much capital in properties and went on to claim that the capital ought to be used to reduce prices. He also suggested that all purchases of property should be discussed at the annual society meeting. The reply he received from the chief executive can best be described as that of a stern school master.

––––––––– 1384 Protokoll Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidars möte, söndagen den 8/11 1908. 1385 For a more detailed discussion about these different kinds of price policies see Jonnergård et al, (1984), pp. 81-94. 1386 Protokoll Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar halvårsstämma 23/8 1914. See also Part Three, Section 4.2. 1387 Protokoll fört vid Malmö distriktets möte, 28/3 1926.

445 Emil Olsson, who was chief executive at the time, answered that Nilsson must know very little about economics if he did not understand that it was the purchase of properties that had reduced the costs of store premises, and that this was good for the finances of the society. Olsson continued by pointing out that decisions to purchase properties had to be taken quickly. There was no time to call member meetings. Another member representative then suggested that the member council ought to get information about all planned property purchases. This did not fall into good ground with the chief executive. Sticking to his line of argument, Olsson stated that such a procedure would be a step backwards, and that the suggestion indicated that the members had no faith in the ability of the board and management.1388 In the end, there was no change in the procedure of taking decisions on property purchases. Yet, the particular property in Bergsgatan which had sparked off the debate was sold the following year, and some members celebrated this as a victory and thought it was the result of their criticism.1389 Similar kinds of demands – i.e. to use the resources of the society for the reduction of prices, and not for consolidation or purchases of properties – continued to come up at annual society meetings in the 1930s, and at district meeting in the late 1930s and early 1940s.1390 Throughout the period of our inquiry we find evidence that members kept an eye on prices in other stores and compared them with those in Solidar. ––––––––– 1388 Protokoll fört vid Föreningssammanträde, 8/4 1926. 1389 At the district meeting of the Malmö district in the following year the purchase of properties was not discussed as such but Mr Gruveman asked for a more detailed and comprehensive balance sheet and annual report and in particular of the accounts showing the property bought and sold. The way the accounts were presented at present it took a considerable effort and much counting to understand that there was a surplus of 18,000 kr in the property department, according to Mr Gruveman. The General Manager then explained what should and what should not be presented in the Annual Report and Balance Sheet considering that competitors might read it. Protokoll fört vid möte med Koop För. Solidar, Malmö distriktet, 31/3 1927. At the Annual Society Meeting in April 1927 Mr Axel Lindskog complained about the lack of information in the Annual Report about the sale of the property in Bergsgatan. He said that since the purchase of this house was so much criticised at the last Annual Meeting, the sale ought to have been referred to in the Annual Report. Another member thought that it was the critic of the Annual Meeting in 1926 that had resulted in the sale. Mr J. P. Berglund, director, answered that all members of the Member Council had received a written message about the sale of the property at Bergsgatan and therefore it was not explained in the Annual Report. Protokoll fört vid Kooperativa För. Solidars ordinarie föreningssammanträde, 25/4 1927. 1390 At the Annual Society Meeting in 1930 Mr Karl Ny questioned the profit made by the Dairy that Solidar owns the majority of shares in. He stated that the prices on dairy products could be reduced further. The cheif executive explained that one had to consider the dividend paid and if Mr Ny did this he would surely realise that if prices were reduced further the dividend on purchase would also be reduced. Protokoll fört vid Föreningsstämma, 28/4 1930. At the following annual society meeting Mr Ny raised the same question again. Protokoll fört vid Föreningsstämma, 20/4 1931. At the annual society meeting in 1939 a long discussion about how to balance between deprecations, consolidation, expansions in stores and services and a reduction of prices took place. Protokoll fört vid föreningsstämma, 24/4 1939. Mr Joel Jeppsson suggested that the Society should not invest so much money in properties but use the resources to reduce prices further. Protokoll distrikt Fosie, 25/3 1939. Mr Hylén knew that many members were critical against placing 300,000 kr in the latest governmental defence loan, he thought that the society would do better if it had used the same sum to reduce prices. Protokoll distrikt Limhamn, 25/3 1942.

446 Such comparisons were used as ammunition when members wanted to argue for further reductions of prices: if nothing was done, Solidar would lose customers to non-co-operative stores.1391 But comparisons were also made with other co- operatives in an effort to show that their society could do better.1392 The member meeting in Solidar had no authority to take decisions in these matters, but members took their advisory role seriously. Most of the time the representatives from board and management only registered complaints about prices or tried to explain why, for instance, the price on oatmeal was higher in the stores of Solidar than at the Co-op in Stockholm.1393 There were times, however, when directors engaged in debates with complaining members, especially if they thought the criticism was unfair. Let us cite a couple of examples of such exchanges of views, just to get a flavour of what they could be like. In 1939, Mr J. Holmberg argued that prices in some of Solidar’s stores where higher than in the private stores. Mr. Friman and Mr. Gruveman, both directors, explained that the price could be higher on products with a slow turnover. How- ever, they added, customers were undoubtedly more pleased with the quality of products in Solidar’s stores, since sale figures were going up.1394 The directors’ strategy was thus to quote sales figures to vindicate the board. Some years later, Mr J. Holmberg raised exactly the same complaint again. This time, the director present at the meeting was less patient. Johan Larsson, director and chairman of the propaganda committee, simply told Holmberg that nobody prevented him from shopping in other stores. Mr Larsson was convinced that Solidar had the lowest prices, and the proof was, in his opinion, the rise in member and turnover figures.1395 Nearly all the demands accounted for so far have one thing in common: members are asking for lower prices. We have also seen that the board and management had the ambition that the society should act as a price regulator in the city. This does not mean that Solidar always had the lowest prices. It meant, however, that the society pressed the price on the goods that it produced. What has been absent from these discussions, however, are explicit remarks about the relation between dividend and prices. This is what we shall examine next. We will follow a more or less continuous discussion stretched out over a long period of time, from the middle of the 1930s to the beginning of the 1950s. Members’ preoccupation with prices is reflected in this debate as well, for many members argued for the reduction of dividend in order to reduce prices. At the same time, this discussion marks a difference from the earlier period, in the sense that decreasing dividend is perceived as a new method of reducing prices.

––––––––– 1391 Protokoll distrikt 3, 19/3 1928. Protokoll distrikt Fosie, 25/3 1939. Protokoll distrikt 7, 25/3 1939. Protokoll distrikt 7, måndag 23/3 1942. Protokoll personaldistriktet, 30/3 1954. Protokoll distrikt Oxie, 4/4 1959. Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg 4/4 1963. 1392 Protokoll distrikt 12, 28/3 1933. Protokoll distrikt Oxie 4/4 1959. Protokoll distrikt Limhamn 10/4 1962. 1393 Protokoll distrikt 12, 28/3 1933. 1394 Protokoll distrikt 7, 25/3 1939. 1395 Protokoll distrikt 7, 23/3 1942.

447 The first contribution to this discussion came at the annual society meeting in 1936. After the board’s recommendation for the distribution of surplus had been presented, Mr C. A. Björk – long-time representative on the member council and former member of the board of Seger – announced that he was against a high dividend on principal grounds. He suggested a reduction from 5 to 4 per cent, cou- pled with a corresponding reduction of the interest on capital. Three of the speakers at the meeting spoke against his proposal, and three spoke for it. One of his critics pointed out that other retailers in the city had begun to give customers a sort of dividend, amounting to 5 per cent. Mrs Anna Olsson, whom we will meet again in the ensuing discussions, was among those who agreed with Björk in principle. She did not think, however, that it was possible to introduce a reduction at the moment. No decision was taken on the matter.1396 The topic reappeared the following year, but this time it was presented as a practical business matter, rather than as a question of principle. In the annual report for 1937, it is stated that the banks had reduced the interest rates. The directors suggested that Solidar should follow this example, and reduce the interest on capital for the following year.1397 This suggestion was discussed at the district meetings. At the district meeting in district four, Mr Karl Strömberg, a representative on the member council, agreed that it was possible to reduce the interest on capital. Yet, he did not think that the time was right for a reduction of the level of dividend. Other members, in turn, either agreed or disagreed with Strömberg. One of the dissenters was Johan Larsson, director and chairman of the propaganda committee. He had nothing against Strömberg’s concessions regarding interest rate, but he argued that a reduction of the dividend on purchase was also desirable. He stated that the positive effects of reducing the level of dividend were currently discussed within the Swedish Co-operative movement in general.1398 He was not alone in seeing the virtues of this measure. At another district meeting that year, Mr Joel Jeppsson, a former representative on the member council, proposed that the level of dividend should be reduced in order to cut prices. If prices were reduced, people of small means would be able to purchase goods from Solidar.1399 In this connection, it is perhaps instructive to remind ourselves of a finding we made in Part Two, when we discussed the rights and duties of shopping members. We learned there that the level of dividend on purchase in Solidar was relatively stable over time, which, from a British perspective, might appear somewhat odd. To the members in Solidar, this stability did not appear strange, and it was rarely commented upon at member meetings. Yet, it was brought up in the debate we are now following: Mr Hallstén asked the chief executive how it was that, year after year, Solidar gave a 5 per cent dividend on purchase. The answer he received gives us a clue to why the dividend rate fluctuated more in the New- castle Society than in Solidar. ––––––––– 1396 Protokoll fört vid föreningsstämma 27/4 1936. 1397 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättlerser för år 1937, p. 30, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1398 Protokoll distrikt 4, 24/3 1937. 1399 Protokoll distrikt 7, 20/3 1937.

448 In the Newcastle Society the board and management began by calculating the budget results to see how much surplus there would be; only thereafter did they proceed to work out a suggestion for how much of the surplus should go to dividend and how much should be allotted to other ends. Their suggestion was certainly not the final word on the matter, for it was the member meeting that ultimately decided on the distribution of resources. They could decide to top up the dividend by diminishing the sums allocated to other ends or by taking from the reserve fund. Let us now compare this to the practice in Solidar, as it was described by Emil Olsson in his reply to Hallstén. Most of the allocation decisions were either taken care of in the rules or left for the board to decide. In the latter case, the annual society meeting had to confirm the board’s suggestion, but this is a far cry from the active role taken by the member meeting in the Newcastle Society. In view of this, there was no reason for the chief executive to postpone his calculation of the dividend until after the budget results were known. This is indeed what we find out from Emil Olsson’s reply. He explained that, when making the budget, he counted on a 5 per cent dividend rate and made his calculations with this constantly in mind. Olsson admitted that the price on goods was affected by this procedure, but that he thought it practical to work with a stable level of dividend.1400 Yet, the chief executive’s computations would soon become somewhat mess- ier. In 1937, the eleventh district voted for a resolution demanding that the board should reduce the level of dividend on purchase to 3 per cent.1401 This vote was of course only a recommendation, but it was designed send a message to the board what the members demanded and what they would be prepared to accept. Their proposal was not implemented as it stood. In 1938, however, a differentiated dividend was introduced, with a 5 per cent dividend on the purchase of most goods and a 3 per cent dividend rate on coal, fish, shoes, and clothes. This did not completely satisfy some members, who continued to demand a reduction of dividend on both purchase and capital at the district meetings in 1938.1402 The issue keeps turning up in the minutes in the following years. In 1940, it was discussed at the district meeting of District Two in Malmö. Mr K. E. Johans- son reminded the chief executive that he had promised a reduction of the rate of dividend on purchase and of the interest on capital. He pointed out that, for several years, the co-operative press had promoted the reduction of the dividend, and he added that a consumer co-operative society in Helsingfors in Finland only had a 1 per cent dividend on purchase. If they could manage this, there was no reason why Solidar could not do the same. One of Johansson’s colleagues on the member council, Mr Carlsson, supported his views. Carlsson told the meeting and the directors that the member council had discussed this matter many times, and had already given its support for a further reduction.1403

––––––––– 1400 Protokoll distrikt 10, 20/3 1937. 1401 Protokoll distrikt 11, 20/3 1937. 1402 Protokoll distrikt 2, 28/3 1938. Protokoll distrikt 11, 25/3 1938. 1403 Protokoll distrikt 2, 27/3 1940.

449 They were both answered by Mr Berglund, a director who was present at the meeting. The board and management, he stated, had always had the intention to reduce the rate. The only reason why Solidar had initially set the rate at 5 per cent, he explained, was that other bakery societies in the city had had an even higher dividend and interest rate. He thought that a certain general reduction was possible, to 4 per cent, but that this was not the appropriate time to introduce it. Other members at the district meeting – who, incidentally, were also representatives on the member council – were inclined to agree with the board on this point. One of them argued that Johansson and Carlsson must know very little about the opinion of the general membership if they insisted on an immediate and far-reaching reduction of the rate of dividend and interest on capital. And yet another representative on the member council declared that he wished to honour the co-operative democratic order and let the district meeting take a vote on the matter. For even though the district meeting had no power to take a decision, such a vote would guide the board in their decision. The members at the district meeting were thus asked whether they supported Johansson’s suggestion to reduce the rate of dividend and interest from 5 to 3 per cent, or whether they preferred to support the board’s suggestion, i.e. to wait until the time was right and then reduce the rate to 4 per cent. A large majority voted for the board’s suggestion.1404 Now, it did not take long for the appropriate occasion to appear. In the following year, members could read in the annual report that the turnover was going up, but that costs were increasing as well. The board prepared the members for a possible reduction of the dividend on purchase and interest on capital.1405 Let us return, then, to District Two and see how this message was received. We find, then, that the proposed reduction had both supporters and critics. As we would expect, Mr Carlsson welcomed the proposal. Carlsson thought that a reduction was the right option, since this would make it possible for the society to reduce its prices and attract even more customers and members. Mr Månsson neither agreed with Carlsson nor with the board. In his opinion, the society was already strong enough, considering the amounts of member shares and the substantial number of properties owned by the society. But this remark caused a reaction from the board representative, who declared that he would not accept that the society should take from its funds to maintain a certain rate of dividend and interest. Månsson hastened to add that this was not what he had meant, but he nevertheless thought that the society need not place more capital in reserves.1406 The possible reduction of dividend and interest were discussed at three other district meetings in 1941, and – there too – it had both supporters and critics.1407 And the debate continued at the district meetings the following year. At the district meeting in District Five, for example, three members said that it was correct to reduce the rate of interest on share capital, but not to reduce dividend. By reducing the ––––––––– 1404 Protokoll distrikt 2, 27/3 1940. 1405 Förvaltnings- och revisionsberättelser för år 1940, p. 38, in FKFS 1907-1940. 1406 Protokoll distrikt 2, 31/3 1941. 1407 Protokoll distrikt 3, 28/3 1941. Protokoll distrikt 5, 27/3 1941. Protokoll distrikt 6, 25/3 1941.

450 interest rate, they thought, the society would be able to cut prices. However, the board representative explained that it was only by reducing the dividend on purchase that the prices could be cut.1408 In 1943, the board finally took the decision to introduce a 4 per cent dividend on purchase and a 4 per cent interest on capital. Their decision was a topic of discussion at the district meetings in March. The division within the membership had not disappeared. Those in favour of the reduction thought that this decision would guarantee the society’s ability to keep prices down. But others protested, and argued that many members would leave the society as a result of this measure. Some male members argued that the housewives expected their 5 per cent dividend. Yet, Mrs Anna Olsson, whose acquaintance we made above, protested against this assumption. She was opposed to what she perceived to be a belit- tling, both of the housewives’ importance and of their capability to comprehend co-operative economic principles. The housewives, she said, were managing as best they could in these difficult times, but the co-operative societies would not manage without their support. Moreover, she believed that the housewives understood the co-operative principle and would not oppose the reduction of the rate of dividend.1409 On the whole, it seems as if the members were in agreement that their society should act as price regulator, but that they disagreed as to the means of doing so. In 1953, the dividend question came up on the agenda again, when the board suggested that the dividend on purchase be reduced to 3 per cent while the interest on capital would remain at the 4 per cent level. This, too, was discussed at district meetings, but in a slightly different context from what we have seen so far. In the early 1950s, Solidar needed to raise more capital for future expansion. This was the reason why the board had chosen not to touch the interest rate for share capital. It was also the reason behind the introduction of an automatic transfer system from a share to a loan account in 1951. The idea was, in short, that members would not withdraw their money but leave it with the society. The critical comments which we find at the district meetings in 1953 are related to this situation. Some sceptical members thought that it was imprudent to reduce the rate of dividend if the board wished for members to place more money in their share account. Their argument was that dividend money was a major source of capital going into share and loans accounts, and that a reduced dividend would thus throttle the flow of resources which the society needed for its expansion.1410 The board nevertheless held on to its decision to reduce dividend to 3 per cent. From this point onwards, the dividend question ceased to be a major topic at district meetings. No further changes in the rate of dividend on purchase occurred before 1970, when it was temporarily raised to 3.5 per cent. Other issues took over, such as how the society should handle the increasing competition from food and dry goods retailers. Dividend reductions were no longer pitted ––––––––– 1408 Protokoll distrikt 5, 26/3 1942. 1409 Protokoll distrikt 5, 23/3 1943. District two approved of the reduction. Protokoll distrikt 2, 24/3 1943. 1410 Protokoll distrikt Västra Skrävlinge, 30/3 1953. Protokoll distrikt Husie, 8/4 1953.

451 against the aim of keeping prices down. Low prices continued to be a key issue, but the board had found a new way to ensure them. Whereas the main strategy had initially been to acquire production units, make them as efficient as possible, and press prices on the products so produced, Solidar began – by the mid 1950s – to rationalise its store structure. Unprofitable shops were closed down, and new types of stores were introduced. In this way, the society could cut costs while at the same time pressing prices through more general discounts. Low prices were no longer limited to those goods which the society manufactured. And instead of competing with dividend, the cut-price policy competed with store density. We are thus approaching developments which we have covered above. This time, however, we get to see them from a different angle. In the middle of the 1950s, members demanded discounts on larger purchases, and their demands led up to the introduction of the so-called Centralköp, which we discussed in the previous section. The introduction of a discount store did not affect the principle of dividend: members shopping at Centralköp could buy goods in large quantities, and they got a 10 per cent discount on top of receiving the ordinary dividend.1411 It was no doubt this combination that made the store so popular with the members. In any case, the trade-off between prices and dividend was replaced by a trade-off between prices and store density, and this is reflected in the source material. Rationalisations, amalgamations, and price-cutting are all topics in the annual reports from the early 1960s. The board and management promised that the rationalisations would lead to a reduction of prices without compromis- ing quality and consumer information. On the other hand, it was no secret that the rationalisations would cause changes in the store structure and in the character of service. These concerns are repeated in the minutes from district meetings. Members were anxious to see that the society lived up to these promises, and were very observant when it came to price levels in the society’s stores. Along- side comments on closed stores and home deliveries, remarks on prices topped the chart of topics discussed at district meetings in the first half of the 1960s.1412 Comments on prices, in turn, generally fall into one of three categories: members ask for lower prices, they are upset over different pricing in the stores of the society, or they are alarmed that the price of a particular product in Solidar’s stores is higher than in non-co-operative stores. These are the general tendencies, but there are exceptions. There are, for example, instances where dividend comes up on the agenda. In 1964 and 1965, dividend was discussed at several district meetings.1413 Yet, these exceptions rather confirm the general rule. One of the members at these meetings, for example, wished for a higher dividend rate. He received an answer from a board representative, who explained that, in these days, ––––––––– 1411 Styrelsens, Medlemsrådets och Revisorernas berättelser för år 1955, p. 28, in FKFS 1950-1960. 1412 Protokoll distrikt Slottsstaden 6/4 1961. Utdrag ur protokoll från 1962 års distriktsstämmor: Kir- seberg, Limhamn and Möllevången. Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg, 4/4 1963. Protokoll distrikt Fosie, 10/4 1963. 1413 Protokoll distrikt S:t Pauli och Möllevången, 6/4 1964. Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg 9/4 1964. Pro- tokoll distrikt V. Skrävlinge, 6/4 1964. Protokoll Västra distriktet Lund, 8/4 1964. Utdrag ur protokollen från 1965 års distriktsstämmor, S.t Petri, S:t Pauli, Kirseberg och Möllevången, Anderslöv, Höllviksnäs.

452 the society was trying to keep low prices and retain the 3 per cent level of dividend which members had become accustomed to.1414 In other words: it would not be realistic to strive for a higher dividend, but the board’s strategy for cutting prices did not involve further dividend reductions. Let us now take a step back from the chronological details and make a couple of more general observations. Consider first the tendency to favour low prices. The account so far has demonstrated that many members of Solidar argued for lower prices. There were, of course, members who ended up in the opposite camp, either because the dividend was reduced or because their local stores were taken away. In spite of this, the cut-price policy had widespread support amongst the membership. There is much to suggest that members and board alike perceived low prices to be part and parcel of the co-operative idea – as indicated, for example, by Anna Olsson’s comments above. Ever since the 1920s the leaders of Solidar had motivated their decisions with the argument that they were in line with “the co-operative spirit” and “in the interest of consumers”. A comparison with the Newcastle Society, however, shows that there is nothing self-evident about this assertion. More generally, we must not let this rhetoric obscure the fact that member and consumer interests do not necessarily coincide. In developing services and reducing prices, Solidar’s efforts benefited both members and non-members. Non-members benefited directly, by having a fair price alternative in their vicinity, and indirectly, since other producers and retailers were forced to compete with the Co-op. Dividend on purchase and interest on share capital, on the other hand, was something that only members benefited from.1415And to the extent that the cut-price policy barred the society from granting special benefits to its members, the emphasis gradually shifted away from member-specific benefits. The board and management were no doubt aware of this but continued to emphasise prices. In 1969, for instance, the society opened its first hypermarket. As with the introduction of Centralköp in the middle of the 1950s, this meant that the society introduced a new kind of store where scale and simple store design helped to press prices. This time Solidar was not a pioneer. Wessels had established its hypermarket at Jägersro outside Malmö as early as 1962.1416 But the year before that, in 1968, the society had made an attempt to reduce prices, while at the same time reserving this reduction for those who were members. Members were given checks which entitled them to immediate discounts on the goods they bought in the stores. The problem was however, that the members did not appreciate this system, and it was discontinued in 1969.1417 The fate of the check system leads us over to our second point. What interests us here is how the board and management got the information that members were dissatisfied with the check system. The annual report from 1968 informs us that, ––––––––– 1414 Protokoll distrikt S:t Pauli och Möllevången, 6/4 1964. 1415 For a more detailed discussion about the difference in working for member interests and consumer interests see Jonnergård et al, (1984), pp. 63-64 and 70-98.. 1416 See Part Two Section 1.2. 1417 Verksamhetsberättelse 1968 Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 3.

453 in this case, member opinions were not channelled through the district meetings but were collected with the aid of questionnaires. Something had obviously happened with the communication channels between members and the board and management. The question, then, is what had happened and when. Communication with the members was important for the board and management, for getting both information about what members thought and the necessary support for their line of action. Since the 1920s the main device for accom- plishing this had been the system with an annual society meeting, a member council, and a set of district meetings. This system was still in operation in the first half of the 1960s. Members were still coming forth with their complaints, and representatives on the member council were the most active speakers. But underneath the surface, the member council had changed profoundly. To begin with, the expansion of Solidar’s trading area and the reorganisation of districts in the early 1950s had altered the composition of the district meetings. Yet, at this point nobody questioned the established democratic structure with the three-tier representative system. Such doubts began to appear in discussions about the democratic structure towards the end of the 1950s and the beginning of the 1960s. They indicate that the established way of channelling members’ demands on the services of the society was not working as well as it used to. It was felt that the member council had difficulties in absorbing the views of the members, much because they were not entirely representative of the membership. There were two versions of this argument, one geographical and one generational. In 1959 – when the society as a whole was involved in a process of reorganisation, due to the amalgamation with the Fenix co-operative society in Lund – the system for electing member representatives to the member council was up for discussion. The board stated that this forum needed to be expanded so as to become more representative of the membership. The result of the rule changes in 1959 was that the number of representatives on this council increased to 400 in an effort to ensure an equitable geographical distribution of representation.1418 Yet, as we know, the rule changes in 1959 also had other implications. The number of delegates at the annual society meeting was reduced to 100, and they were no longer to be recruited directly through the member council. Instead, the district meetings was charged with the task of holding two separate elections, one for the annual society meeting and one for representatives on the member council. The member council thereby received an unclear status in the democratic organisation. To be sure, members still cared about who got elected to the member council. To make sure that it was the most interested and informed members that were elected to this body, some districts introduced election committees. The district meeting of St Petri in 1964 was strongly engaged in this change and instructed the board to make all necessary changes to renew the composition of the member council.1419 At the district meeting of Möllevången ––––––––– 1418 Bilaga 1 till extra föreningsstämmans protokoll den 9/11 1959 § 7, in map Bilagor till protokoll föreningsstämmor 1944-1967. 1419 Protokoll distrikt S:t Perti, 10/4 1964.

454 the previous year we find members who were positive to the new system with an election committee as well as those who were critical. Mr Knut Karlsson was positive and argued that an election committee was necessary to rejuvenate the member council. Mr Carl Strömberg spoke against this novelty, saying that an election committee would be an unwieldy practice. Moreover, he thought the long-time members on the member council would feel neglected thinking that their efforts to improve the Co-operative movement and Solidar did not count.1420 At the district meeting in Kirseberg in the same year members spoke both for and against an election committee but in the end they agreed that they would rather stick with the old system.1421 But the continued interest in the member council on the part of the members does not falsify the fact that it had become something of an organisational appendix. It passed away rather silently in 1966. From this point onwards, the society no longer had access to member council representatives taking on the dual role of simultaneously being spokespersons for the board and for the members in the district. So what channels of communication did the board have to make up for this loss? The district meetings were still there, and so was the annual society meeting. Apart from these forums, however, the board and management had also discovered new ways of finding out about member and consumer demands. Collecting this information became more of a managerial matter. One minor example of this dates from 1964. In their efforts to convince members that Soli- dar sold good quality goods at low prices, the management was instructed to do test shopping in other stores and present the results to the members.1422 A more thorough change was introduced a year later. In the middle of the 1960s Solidar started to communicate with its members – and with consumers in general – by utilising market research. Housewives were interviewed, and they were asked, among other things, whether they preferred low prices or dividend on purchase. Among those who did not shop regularly in the stores of Solidar 82 per cent answered that they preferred low prices. Regular customers were more appreciative of the dividend, but more than 50 per cent nevertheless answered that they preferred lower prices before dividend on purchase.1423 These results are interesting in their own right. They seem to vindicate the strategy pursued by the board and management; this was, at any rate, how the figures would be interpreted by the leaders and officials of Solidar. The figures are also indicative of a contrast between Solidar and the Newcas- tle Society. Yet, before we go into this issue, we should abstract from the contents and say a few words about this particular form of channelling consumer and member demand. The society continued to send out questionnaires to its mem-

––––––––– 1420 Protokoll distrikt Möllevången 5/4 1963. 1421 Protokoll district Kirseberg, 4/4 1963. 1422 Protokoll distrikt Kirseberg 9/4 1964. 1423 In October and November 1965 the research student and sociologist Ann-Mari Sellerberg interviewed 348 housewives in Malmö. Of these housewives 33 per cent were regular shoppers in the stores of Solidar. Verksamhetsberättelser 1965 Konsum – Solidar – Domus, p. 31.

455 bers in the following years. In 1967 all members of Solidar received a questionnaire. Little over 7 per cent answered the questions. Out of the 7,400 who answered 3,700 stated that they preferred to mediate their opinions on the services of Solidar through questionnaires. As many as 1,800 preferred talking to the manager in the store, 600 wished to mediate their demands by means of sending letters or using the phone. Only 300 said that they preferred to go to meetings and 100 answered that they mediated their demands through their representatives.1424 There are of course massive problems with these figures, e.g. the possibility of self-selection, which means that we must be careful in our interpretation of them. But we can be fairly certain that the management of Solidar saw them as a vindication of their new method of communication. Questionnaires continued to be used, and the management were inventive in using other similar modes of communication, e.g. by encouraging members to write down basic household data on the bags used by members to send in their receipts.1425 In other words, in the end of the 1960s market research became an important channel of communication. This is why information about member opinions on the 1968 check system was channelled via questionnaires rather than through member meetings. Let us, then, get back to the Newcastle Society, and investigate what members thought about dividend on purchases. In this society, too, there were members who preferred low prices before high dividend. In 1901, a member of a branch of the WCG in Newcastle stated in a letter to the Co-operative News that… …we cannot afford to give 20/- for 18/- value and wait four months to have 2/- returned to us for the privilege of attending two or three squab- bling meetings.1426 This member could apparently not see any advantage with the dividend. It is difficult to say exactly how representative she was. However, we have already seen that members who went to member meetings understood that low prices would most likely result in lower dividends, and that they were not prepared to accept this. The recommendation of the auditor in 1916, i.e. to keep prices low so as to avoid a high excess profit duty tax, did not meet with approval at the member meeting. It was not until prices rose in 1917 and 1918 that the majority of meeting-goers changed their opinion and voted for a reduction in prices. And when they did so, they were careful to point out that this could be achieved by using resources going to consolidation, rather than by reducing the rate of dividend. This, if anything, is a strong indication that members in the Newcastle Society preferred high dividend rates, in contrast to Solidar, where they were mainly looking out for low prices. In this case, however, their wishes could not be fulfilled. Since 1912, the dividend level had remained at a stable level of 2/6 in the £ for several years. But in 1917, when the board was given instructions to minimise taxes in the way they ––––––––– 1424 Verksamhetsberättelse 1967 Konsum, Domus, Konsumentföreningen Solidar, p. 6. 1425 De nya familjeuppgifterna på 1968 års kvittopåsar, in 33 Solidar Bilagor till styrelsens protokoll §§ 203-307 1968. 1426 The Co-operative News January 19th 1901, in Darvill, (1954), p. 70.

456 saw fit, the rate was reduced to 1/8 in the £. It remained on that level until 1921, when it was reduced further to 1/7 in the £. It was not until 1925 that the yearly average level reached 2 shillings in the £ again, and not until 1942 did the level of dividend on purchases surpass 2 shillings in the £.1427 What these developments show is that the Newcastle Society was operating in a complex environment, and that external circumstances could make it difficult for the board to meet member demands for a high dividend rate. This is also what our next examples show. According to Bonner, many consumer co- operative societies had problems getting a good price when buying from some non-co-operative manufacturers. A group of non-co-operative manufacturers had joined forces and formed the Proprietary Articles Trade Association (P.A.T.A.) in 1905. Apart from the difficulties in getting fair deals, doing business with these companies also brought other problems in relation to dividend. Consumer co-operative societies wishing to sell products produced by the members of the P.A.T.A. had to agree not to pay any dividend on those articles.1428 According to Jefferys, this situation worsened in the 1930s when brand manufactures refused to sell popular high-priced consumer goods, e.g. radios, to consumer co- operative societies if they paid dividend on those goods.1429 It would take a different type of study, one focusing on minutes from board meetings and sub-committees, to find out about the extent to which the Newcas- tle Society suffered from boycotts or unfair deals from some manufacturers. In this connection, we are rather interested in the effects on the dividend of selling P.A.T.A. products , for they add a new aspect to what we already know about members’ views on dividend on purchase. From a member complaint mediated to the board we know that the society sold P.A.T.A. products. In 1939 a member reacted against the practice of selling products in the stores that did not pay any dividend on purchase, and argued that this practice was in breach of the rules. To answer the concerned member, the board consulted the Co-operative Union’s legal advisers. They told the society that, as long as the society informed the members about the conditions for P.A.T.A. articles, the society had established a special contract with the members and this new contract outweighed the contract according to the rules.1430 In the case of the P.A.T.A. articles the consumer co-operative societies had to choose between refraining from selling them at all and selling them without paying a dividend on them. Faced with this enforced choice, the society had opted for the former, at least in some cases, and this resulted in the introduction of a differentiated dividend. As the member comment shows, this was not popular among the members. From the perspective of the shopping members, the fact that some of their purchases did not result in a dividend could be confusing and perceived to be unfair. We find more examples of this in our next example.

––––––––– 1427 See Return of Trade, Northern Section, 1912 to 1942. 1428 Bonner, (1970[1961]), pp. 90-91. 1429 Jefferys, (1954), p. 407. 1430 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1939.

457 At the beginning of the 1940s the purchase tax on cigarettes and tobacco was raised and it became costly for the consumer co-operative societies to pay a dividend on these products. In 1942 the Blaydon Society contacted the board of the Newcastle Society and suggested that both societies should stop paying a dividend on tobacco products. The board of the Newcastle Society rejected this proposal.1431 It is likely that it anticipated the difficulties in convincing the member meeting of introducing a differentiated dividend and doing it on a product which was bought by a large number of people. However, the increased costs for paying a dividend on these products eventually forced the board to face the member meeting with a proposal to exempt tobacco and cigarettes from the dividend. At the quarterly meeting in October 1948 the acting chairman made an attempt to explain to the members present that the society was losing much needed capital when paying a dividend on tobacco and cigarettes. He stated that tobacco and cigarettes constituted as much as 17.2 per cent of the total trade, but since 85 per cent of the sale price was tax, the gross margin of profit was very low. If the society stopped paying a dividend on these goods, the general rate of the dividend on purchase would go up 4 pence in the £. For this reason, the board was considering to at least reduce the dividend on these articles.1432 Since the society was already selling P.A.T.A. articles, this would not be the first time that members were confronted with a differentiated dividend. But this case was different. If the society stopped paying a dividend or reduced the dividend rate on the purchase of tobacco and cigarettes, this decision would be taken within the society itself. The continuation of the story shows that the board had been correct in their original assessment that a differentiated dividend in this area would not be popular among the membership. The member meeting reacted strongly. One member – Mr Mallabar, a former director who had retired from the board only four years ago – who took on the role of self-appointed spokesperson for the protesting members.1433 At the quarterly meeting when the board presented its proposal, Mallabar pointed out that the suggested dividend of 1/9 in the £ implied that the society, for the first time since the period between 1916 and 1924, gave a dividend below 2 shillings in the £. This was not satisfactory. But since cutting the dividend on tobacco and cigarettes was not the solution he cautioned the board not to do so. Just to underline that he was not speaking in his own interest, he declared that he himself was a non-smoker. Mallabar had his own views about how the general dividend could be raised without introducing a differentiated dividend. He appealed to the employees of the society “not to be too severe in their wage demands”. According to Mallabar, the employees of the Newcastle Society already had wages exceeding the rate recommended by their trade union. He added that ––––––––– 1431 Jim Lamb’s Chronological Register 1942. 1432 Minutes 350th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1948. This was not the first time that the chairman explained about these conditions and prepared members on a future reduction in dividend on purchases but it was the first time it was pointed out that a differentiated dividend might be introduced. See Minutes 348th Quarterly General Meeting, 28th April 1948. 1433 Mr G. Mallabar retired after 11 years on the board at the quarterly meeting in April 1944. Min- utes 332nd Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1944.

458 he felt confident that the society in the near future would be able pay “our usual dividend of 2/=”, if only a couple of departments would show somewhat better results. A couple of other members agreed with Mr Mallabar and came up with their own suggestions for how to avoid a differentiated dividend.1434 Three months later a differentiated dividend had in fact been introduced. The chairman stated that this was something that the members had been warned about at the previous quarterly meeting. Yet, apart from notifying the members about this, the chairman also presented very optimistic sale figures. During the 4- day Christmas week the sales of the society had reached £121,000. Customers had bought cosmetics for £1,422 and wine for £1,036, and the newly established furniture emporium had sold goods for nearly £8,000 since it opened. The combination of these two announcements added to the consternation of some of the members. Why had the board reduced the level of dividend on purchase, and introduced a differentiated dividend when the society was making all-time records in sales?1435 Mr Mallabar was one of those confused and upset members. He pointed out that since October last year the dividend had dropped 3 shillings even though sales had risen considerably. His experience as a director had made him realise that, historically, a rise in sales had been a salvation for the society in keeping down overhead costs. He was also disappointed that the board had not informed the members better about its intention to stop paying a dividend on tobacco and cigarettes. He then informed the other members present that he had tried to influence the decision of the board and explained about his communication with the secretary of the society. The secretary had assured him in a letter that the directors had sought legal advice to find out if their decision to introduce a differentiated dividend had been taken in accordance with the rules. Mr Mallabar now wanted to know if the board had received any answer from the legal advisers.1436 The chairman admitted that the legal advisers had pointed out that the board's decision was not sanctioned by the rules. But he emphasised that, in their letter, they had also stated that the board's decision was very wise from a business point of view. Trying to satisfy Mallabar's request for information, the chairman explained in more detail why the board had taken this decision: He [the chairman] then pointed out that 424 societies in 1948 were paying full dividend on cigarettes etc, while 295 societies paid no dividend and there are 85 societies who add the dividend to cigarettes. This society is selling £900,000 worth of cigs & tobacco in the year at 2/= dividend which other departments were having to subsidise to the extent of 4d in the £. The sale price is 3/6 of which 2/11 goes to the Government as Tax of 20/= worth of tobacco sold, it cost the society 19/1d at 2/= dividend making a loss of 1/1d. 1437

––––––––– 1434 Minutes 350th Quarterly General Meeting, 27th October 1948. 1435 Minutes 351st Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1949. 1436 Minutes 351st Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1949. 1437 Minutes 351st Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1949.

459 The chairman continued to reassure the members that the differentiated dividend was only a temporary solution and that the board had taken the decision in the interest of sound finances. Mr Mallabar was not pleased with this explanation. He threatened to challenge the board by way of arbitration if the board did not revoke their decision to stop paying a dividend on tobacco and cigarettes. In an attempt to mediate, another member – Mr Langdown, secretary of the branch of the Co-operative Party – suggested that the disputed part of the minutes should be re-read. The secretary read the part in question, whereupon Mr Langdown said that, for his part, he was now satisfied. He thought that the members had been informed about the plans of the board, and that they had in fact given their sanction to the possible introduction of a differentiated dividend. A female member declared that she supported the decision, since paying a dividend on tobacco and cigarettes implied that non- smokers were penalised. Defending his position, Mallabar explained that his arbitration was due to a rule having been broken, and that he was fighting for a principle.1438 During the following three months Mallabar continued to correspond with the secretary. He was also called to an interview with the board. At the April quarterly meeting he protested against the unfair treatment of his proposal and against not having been informed that he could have a seconder with him at the interview. Interrupting the order of the meeting, Mallabar declared that it was necessary to move the suspension of standing orders. However, upon being asked why this was necessary, and which standing orders he wished to suspend, he failed to give a reason. Having restored order, the chairman presented the board's resolution, which amounted to an approval of the board's decision to temporarily withdraw payment of dividend on purchases of tobacco and cigarettes. Before the vote was taken, Mallabar stated the following two reasons for being against the resolution of the board: 1/ Any resolution brought forward that night to confirm the Board's decision should have been done before that action was taken.

2/ In all his training as a co-operator the basic principle of co-operation was to share out equally.1439 Other members also spoke before the vote. One of them was Mr McAthey, a former director who had recently stepped down from his position on the board. He supported the board's resolution, and pointed out that the differentiated dividend was now needed since the grocery gross margins had decreased. A couple of other members were more sceptical and one asked how it was possible for the societies in Gateshead and Blaydon to pay a dividend on tobacco and cigarettes. The debate was apparently heated, for Mr Langdown asked everybody to listen to the arguments presented and to think very seriously before they turned down the resolution. If it was defeated, he added, this would result in a reduction of the ––––––––– 1438 Minutes 351st Quarterly General Meeting, 26th January 1949. 1439 Minutes 352nd Quarterly General Meeting, 27th April 1949.

460 dividend in general. In his reply to the critical members the chairman explained that the societies in Gateshead and Blaydon could pay a dividend on all goods sold because, in contrast to the Newcastle Society, they did not pursue a temporary cut-price policy. Finally, the chairman pointed out that if the resolution was turned down, the dividend on purchase could not be paid the following morning since it would then have to be recounted. When put to the vote, 380 voted for the resolution, 296 voted against it, and there were 23 spoiled papers. The resolution was carried.1440 One would have thought that Mr Mallabar would give up when he lost this vote. Yet, 296 members had voted against the resolution, so he probably thought he had enough support to continue his fight. He therefore challenged the board by means of arbitration.1441 Moreover, he constantly reminded the board and the member meeting of his protest and took every possible opportunity to protest and question the board’s decisions. At the quarterly meeting in October 1949 he first appealed to the board to pay the decided dividend of 2/2 in the £ also on cigarettes and tobacco. He then went on to say that he thought it was curious that the sum in the reserve fund had increased, since no allocations from the disposable profits account had been made for the past three half years. The secretary informed him that the sum had increased because fines and forfeits had, in accordance with the rules, been added to the fund.1442 In commenting on nearly all subjects up for discussion at member meetings, Mallabar clearly wished to demonstrate that, as a former director, he knew how things ought to be handled.1443 Despite having initiated the arbitration process, Mallabar continued to seek the support at the member meeting to undo the board's decision not to pay a dividend on the purchase of tobacco and cigarettes. At the quarterly meeting in April 1950 he presented a list with 2,100 signatures, and claimed that these members supported his petition to reintroduce a dividend on tobacco and cigarettes. The chairman questioned whether the signatures were genuine. 1,044 of them were written on blank sheets, he said, and many of them were written in the same handwriting. Even if they were genuine, he added, the opinions of the remaining 87,000 members ought to be respected. A long discussion between Mallabar and the chairman ensued. Mallabar proposed a resolution that this meeting should rescind the decision at the quarterly meeting in April 1949, where the board’s decision to stop paying dividend on tobacco and cigarettes had been approved. The chairman reminded the members present that voting for Mr Mallabar’s proposition would not change anything. The board’s decision could not be rescinded until the solicitors engaged in the arbitration process had reached a decision or through a revision of the rules. According to the chairman, no member meeting ––––––––– 1440 Minutes 352nd Quarterly General Meeting, 27th April 1949. 1441 Minutes 353rd Quarterly General Meeting, 27th July 1949. 1442 Minutes 354th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th October 1949. 1443 Mr Mallabar continued to comment the boards decisions and gave recommendations to officials as well as members at member meetings for as long as he could go to meetings. When he was sick and confined to hospital this was reported at the member meeting, this fact confirms the special position he had at the member meetings as a self appointed representative for the members. Minutes 389th Quarterly General Meeting, 30th July 1958.

461 could take a decision that disturbed or disrupted the policy as laid down by the board. These arguments failed to impress most of the members at the meeting: a large majority voted for Mallabar's resolution.1444 At the following quarterly meeting the chairman had to announce that the arbitrators had decided in favour of Mr Mallabar. According to the chairman, the members would now have to suffer the consequences. The quarterly dividend on purchase could not be paid out the following morning, because the purchases of tobacco and cigarettes had to be included. And the members were told to expect a decrease in the dividend on purchase.1445 This was not appreciated by the members, and in 1951, when the board declared that the dividend would be 1 shilling and 6 pence in the £, they questioned the reduction. They wanted to know why the dividend did not increase when sales were going up. The chairman explained that it was true that sales increased, but the surplus did not. The sale of certain goods was only a service to the members, and did not generate any surplus.1446 With the experience of Mr Mallabar’s arbitration fresh in mind those who supported a differentiated dividend tried a new strategy. In 1952 several of the rules of the society were up for revision. One of the suggested changes concerned Rule 12, on the application of profits. The proposed new rule stated that the quarterly meeting in January should be able to exclude certain goods from dividend on purchase, and that no dividend should exceed the amount recommended by the board. When put to the vote this suggested rule was turned down – with the margin of one vote. However, the member meeting agreed that Rule 26 should be changed, and the new wording stipulated that “no amendment will be accepted to increase any financial recommendation appearing on the agenda at any ordinary meeting of the society”. Thus, the new rules that emerged in 1952 prevented members from proposing higher levels of dividend, unless their demands were made at a special meeting.1447 Three months later, in January 1953, the board made a second attempt to alter the rules. They wanted to a new vote on part of the contents of Rule 12, which had failed to get the approval of the members, with the argument that this proposal had been defeated by only one vote. Their renewed proposal for a rule change would give the April quarterly general meeting the authority to vote for a differentiated dividend and to decide which products should be exempted from the dividend. Not surprisingly, Mr Mallabar protested against this suggestion and reminded the members present of the recent arbitration that he had won. Yet, Mr Reynolds, the chairman of the latest rules revision committee, supported the board’s resolution. He pointed out that the aim of this alteration was not to stop the dividend on tobacco and cigarettes. It was designed to make it possible for the society to introduce the sale of petrol: the oil companies did not allow the so-

––––––––– 1444 Minutes 356th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1950. 1445 Minutes 354th Quarterly General Meeting, 26th July 1950. 1446 Minutes 359th Quarterly General Meeting, 31st January 1951. 1447 Minutes of Special General Meeting, 15th October 1952.

462 ciety to give a dividend on the sale of petrol. After a long discussion, the resolution was put to the vote and carried “almost unanimously”.1448 The wish to include petrol among the goods offered by the society may have been the immediate reason for the rule change, but, once the resolution was pass- sed, the rules made explicit allowance for a differentiated dividend. The April quarterly meeting had the power to decide whether some goods should be exempted. Moreover, the change of Rule 26 gave the board and the chairman increased opportunities to stop amendments to raise dividend levels. In April 1961 the chairman used this rule to stop an amendment proposed by Mr Mallabar to raise the suggested rate of dividend.1449 We must conclude that the board met considerable resistance in its attempts to introduce a differentiated dividend, but also that it was very persistent. The same pattern repeats itself in another issue related to dividend matters. The directors and management were anxious to improve the administration and budgeting of the society. Producing quarterly reports and preparing quarterly meetings involved a great deal of extra administration. Yet, the introduction of half-yearly reports and half-yearly meetings would also imply a half-yearly dividend, and this was certainly not welcomed by all members. A first attempt to change the rhythm of reports, meetings and dividend was made in January 1958. The chairman said that the time had come for a change. But members were less enthusiastic. Some members argued that pensioners and poorer members needed the quarterly dividend. The proposition was aborted: 330 voted for but 679 voted against.1450 Three years later a new attempt resulted in nearly the same voting figures, only the other way around. There were 686 votes in favour of the introduction of a half-yearly dividend, and 358 votes against. Yet, a changeover to a half-yearly rhythm required a rule change, and ever since 1947 such decisions had to be taken with a two-third majority. Thus, while a majority of members were now for the idea, the resolution did still not receive the requisite two-third majority.1451 Three months later, even more members were convinced that a half- yearly dividend could be introduced. 470 members voted for the introduction, and only 111 against, which meant that the resolution was finally carried.1452 Since nearly every change in practice and policy gave rise to a tug-of-war, it is tempting to see the board and member meeting as adversaries. This, however, is somewhat misleading, for the members who constituted the member meeting was not a uniform group. What it does mean is that specific groups could attempt to rally support for their cause. We have seen ample evidence of this throughout the book. Insofar as rule changes are concerned, the decision in 1947 to require a two-third majority in such matters loaded the dice in favour of those groups who wished to preserve the status quo. We saw above that, even though an ordinary majority supported the board’s suggestions to alter the rules, those who dis- ––––––––– 1448 Minutes Special General Meeting, 28th January 1953. 1449 Minutes Quarterly General Meeting, 26th April 1961. 1450 Minutes Special General Meeting, 29th January 1958. 1451 Minutes Special General Meeting, 26th April 1961. 1452 Minutes Special General Meeting, 26th July 1961.

463 agreed needed only summon little over one-third of the members at the meeting to stop it. However, by trying over and over again, the board could eventually get a resolution carried. Whether or not this was a feasible strategy depended, of course, upon the amount of support the board could muster. Before we go on to summarise our findings, we will review one last example which demonstrates the difficulties experienced by the board in this connection. The issue at stake is once again the differentiated dividend. The rule change in 1953 had bestowed upon the member meeting the right to decide whether, and which, goods should be exempted from dividend. In the middle of the 1960s – when the turnover figures had fluctuated for some time, and when the increase in trade from the 1950s was but a memory the board thought it necessary to gain more control over the conditions of management. The board asked the member meeting to hand over to them the decision about which goods should be exempted from dividend. Yet, such a transfer of power required a revision of the rules. The first attempt to change the rules for this purpose was made in October 1966. Submitting a new proposal to change Rule 12, Mr Yeats, the chairman, stated that: …in these days of extremely difficult trading conditions where circumstances were continually changing – and changing rapidly – our Society like all other societies must be flexible in its approach to the problems of the allocation of surplus. [italics added]1453 The problem, as the board perceived it, was the flat rate of dividend which the society paid on the purchase of nearly all goods and services. They needed a possibility to act – and to act quickly – to make sure that the society kept afloat. What the board was asking for, then, was the authority to exempt particular goods or services from dividend, if paying a dividend on them had adverse effects on the gross profit. Yet, the formulations in the minutes reveal that the board had misgivings about the members’ willingness to abandon part of its control over the conditions of management. The chairman begins by saying that, surely, the members trust the board to act wisely. He assured them that the board would not misuse the power handed to it, and went on to point out that the proposed alteration would not infringe upon the co-operative principle of distributing the net surplus to the members. Nor was it the board’s own initiative: the Co- operative Union had issued a recommendation that the board should have this authority. His explanations were to no avail. After a lengthy discussion a vote was taken, and the board’s resolution was lost. 95 members voted for and 156 against .1454 The board made a second attempt in April the following year. The arguments from the latest attempt were repeated with a slight shift of emphasis. The board declared that they did not propose the rule change because it was recommended by the Co-operative Union and the CWS, but because they felt it was necessary to meet contingencies which the Newcastle Society was facing now and would ––––––––– 1453 Minutes Special General Meeting, 26th October 1966. 1454 Minutes Special General Meeting, 26th October 1966.

464 face in the future. To do this, they argued, flexibility was necessary. Did it really matter to the members whether they obtained the profits immediately, in the form of low prices, or whether they got it at a later date in the form of dividend on purchases? This time, moreover, the board had taken pains to court the co- operative forums to rally support. The minutes contain a note from the chairman, where he expresses his gratitude towards the guilds and other organisations for the “wonderful” and “enthusiastic” reception the board had received at meetings with them during the last couple of weeks. They also contain a long plea to the members: This Rule alteration was not being recommended to give any additional power to the Board of Management or to Officials – we were not looking for that – you elected your Board to run the Society on your behalf – it comprised of a cross-section of our membership and it was the duty of your Board to pull together, and indeed they do, for the benefit of the So- ciety – not for the benefit of any individual. All we asked for was to be unfettered in our fight and it was a fight to uphold the strength of this fine Society. […] If this Rule alteration was approved, do not assume that there would be immediate changes – next week or even next month – there would not be. This extra weapon would only be used as and when necessary and only after a full and complete examination of the facts. In- deed, changes might not come at all but who can foretell the future – anything could happen and we must have the necessary weapons with which to fight.1455 When put to the vote the motion was lost. More supporters were indeed present at this meeting than at the previous one: 160 people voted for the board’s resolution. Yet, the opposing camp had also gained in numerical strength with the result that 247 voted against the proposition.1456 It took three special meetings, much explaining, rallying of support, and of reassurances that the board would not misuse the power handed to them before the rule change was finally approved. At a special general meeting in October 1967, the board did get a two- third majority for a change of Clause 1 in Rule 33, which empowered the board to… ‘…determine from time to time to exclude purchases and/or pay differentiated rates of dividend. Such powers of determination shall extend to the specification of goods and services and/or to places or areas in which goods or services are sold or provided by the Society.’1457 The example illustrates that the member meeting of the Newcastle Society had a significant influence over the conditions of management until the very end of the period of our inquiry. It is in fact exemplary of much of what we have said throughout this fourth part of the book and provides us with a cue to a summary ––––––––– 1455 Minutes Special General Meeting, 26th April 1967. 1456 Minutes Special General Meeting, 26th April 1967. 1457 Minutes Special General Meeting, 25th October 1967.

465 statement. In comparison with Solidar, the member meeting in the Newcastle Society had a considerable power over how society resources should be used. The board was sometimes caught between an unyielding member meeting and circumstances in the external environment. The example above shows that members were anxious to retain this authority, but also that it was gradually weakened. All these facts are important parts of our jig-saw puzzle. They form part of an organisational logic which set the boundary conditions for the development of the society. The organisational logic of the Newcastle Society is easier to discern it we compare it to that operating in Solidar. The member meeting in Solidar quickly lost its influence, not only over everyday management, but over the conditions of management as well. Stipulations in the rules took care of many distribution issues, and the board and management were trusted to manage the society and its resources. Members at the annual society meeting, the member council, and the district meetings were assigned an advisory function. On the one hand, this means that Solidar’s meetings were a far cry from the contentious meetings of the Newcastle Society when it came to the distribution of surplus. On the other hand, Solidar’s members, particularly the representatives on the member council, were accustomed to the role as advisors. This, too, marks a contrast to the Newcastle Society, where the large-scale member meetings were ill-equipped for addressing ameliorations of particular goods and services. We can see this pattern in member comments on services in the two societies. The more the topics up for discussion resemble struggles over resources – such as issues related to dividend – the more the Newcastle Society member meeting functions in the way we have seen examples of in the discussion of the distribution of the surplus. Issues related to selection of goods are located at the opposing end of the spectrum. Such matters formally belonged to the realm of everyday management, which the meeting was not supposed to interfere with. And even if the members were happy to disregard the rules at times, preferences for particular goods did not follow group boundaries, and so the customary method of rallying support was inefficient. When they did vote on such matters, the votes concerned tobacco and CWS brands – both topics of wide-spread interest to a substantial portion of the membership. Conversely, Solidar’s district meetings functioned very well as channels for communicating consumer demands on selection. The district meetings, the three- tier representative structure they were part of and the education and propaganda system facilitated such discussions. Members may have lacked formal power, but they were actively involved by the society in planning for the future. Much due to this, the issue of prices takes on a special place in Solidar. This was an area which belonged to services, and members utilised their scouting role to compare the society’s prices to those in other stores. When members complain about prices, they do so as advisors; but in doing so, they also exert pressure on the board and management to make improvements in this area. We will have more to say about the organisational logics in the two societies. This, however, is the task of the last part of the book, to which we now turn.

466 Part 5. The workings of co- operation

What kind of business was this, with members who could send in their demands as motions to an annual society meeting? By asking this seemingly naïve question in the introduction, I wanted to begin the book where I had started my own research process. The Co-op – or Konsum as it was called in Sweden in the late 1970s and in the 1980s, when I grew up – was just another store to me. I knew little more about it when, at the end of the 1990s, I decided to write my master thesis on the subject of consumer co-operation. With no immediate personal relation to “the store”, I was puzzled by the fact that customers were members and that they could demonstrate their demands in more ways than buying or refrain from buying goods. It provoked me to ask some simple questions. What kind of business was (and is) this? How does it work? When we resume this thread – after a lengthy argument and with a wealth of details on our hands – the question seems to have been shed of its naïveté. I would go so far as to argue that my initial query set me off on a certain route of thinking and provided me with a (largely tacit) theoretical perspective which has influenced the whole process of research and consequently the result of the study. To elaborate on this point somewhat it is useful to quote Niklas Luhmann, sociologist and systems analyst. In his essay Vorbemerkungen zu einer Theorie sozialer Systeme, Luhmann identifies two different strands of theorising. One of them assumes a certain order as a matter of course, and theorises the defects of and deflections from this order. With such a point of departure, it is the deviation from a particular order, ideal, or path of development that demands an explanation. Theories of the second variety proceed differently. Here the seemingly normal order of things is conceived as improbable and demanding of an explanation.1458 The latter type of theorising leads to questions such as: How is…possible? How does…work? What are the conditions for this phenomenon and its development? My initial query about the character of co-operative business was such a question. My research interests leaned towards lifting away the aura of self-evidence from a seemingly normal order, and getting to grips with the workings of co-operation. This mode of theorising has sometimes been accused of shying away from conflicts. Yet, whatever the validity of that general criticism, it certainly does not apply to this study. On the contrary, my attempts to grasp the workings of co- ––––––––– 1458 Luhmann Niklas, Soziologische Aufklärung. 3, Soziales System, Gesellschaft, Organisation, (1981), Opladen.

467 operation have made it possible to discern the underlying principles which propel and shape conflicts in the two societies. On the other hand, I have not subscribed to functionalism, or indeed to any particular theory, in my pursuit to comprehend how the two societies work. This study is neither a specimen of theory testing, nor a collection of facts. Quite a few claims can be made in the latter area, for this is the first detailed local historical study of consumer co-operation in Sweden, and the extensive use of minutes from member meetings adds to the picture of consumer co-operation in both countries. This inquiry has thus both shown the utility of a data source for future research, and contributed with more facts for researchers in the field to digest. The time-span examined – i.e. from 1860 to round about 1970 – supplements the sparse British research literature on co-operation during the Post-War period. In relation to both the British and Swedish state of research, the current study adds to our knowledge about members’ use of, and opinions about the development of, their consumer co-operative societies. And a survey which makes use of minute material from member meetings, rules, and other materials related to the practice of members, makes it possible to examine the role played by members as customers in the stores and as participants at member meetings. This is in itself a vital supplement to earlier studies, which have mainly been based on co-operative reports, on statements from leading co-operators, and on members’ reminiscences. But important as these additive contributions are, they only form a background to the analytical endeavour. It has already been declared that this analytical ambition is something other than testing – or, worse, exemplifying – existing theories. The analytical stance here is more about theorising than about theory, more about understanding the complexities of the cases at hand than using them as indices of some precon- ceived general body of hypotheses. To accomplish this, we have engaged in a continuous back-and-forth movement between ideas and evidence, between the Newcastle Society and Solidar, and between the local cases and their local and national environments. This is part of what Charles Ragin refers to as the process of casing, but it also points to the fact that the comparative approach has been instrumental in shaping the investigation. This aspect, too, deserves a comment. My simple initial query proved to be a good point of departure for a comparative study. To be sure, I had a somewhat more precise research question to guide the search in the early phases. But when that casing had to be renegotiated, the naïve curiosity about how these organisations actually worked provided a sense of direction. It continued to be an asset in situations when the comparative approach shook my conception of what I was doing. For this is what the comparison did: it forced me to renegotiate the frame of reference for my inquiry. It also had other effects, and one of them concerns the relationship between the existing research literatures, the questions I was asking, and the materials needed to answer them. The comparison of two bodies of literature, i.e. literature on co- operation in Britain and Sweden, involved a process of matching questions, and of considering the different contexts within which co-operation concerns historical research in the two countries. Quite frequently what was considered an important question, topic, or period in one country was largely or completely neglected in the other.

468 This comparison was important in two respects. First, it allowed me to identify lacunae in the research traditions of the two countries and thus to pinpoint neglected areas where the marginal utility of one more empirical study would be high. Comparison helps to create an estrangement in relation to what is otherwise so familiar that it eludes us; the seemingly normal order does not come out as self-evident when it is viewed from the vantage point of a contrasting literature. The flipside of the coin is, however, that I could not simply take up where other researchers had left off. Second, it was possible to identify certain common de- nominators, i.e. areas which were relevant both to the British and to the Swedish research literature. The comparison of historiographies helped me to narrow down three themes: consumer demand, co-operative democracy, and the contents and discontents of co-operative politics. All themes are interrelated, and each is relevant to an understanding of the workings of co-operation. Parallel to the comparison of the national research literatures ran the actual comparison of Solidar and the Newcastle Society. They added further complexity and forced me to go back and forth between empirical data and possible conceptual frameworks that could make sense out of them. Thus, when the over-all themes were finally translated into concrete questions, specific investigations, and an outline for the book, these decisions were not only distilled from an overview of the secondary literature, but through a process of casing which continued throughout the period of writing this book. Yet, this is all part of the context of discovery and, as we have now reached the final part of the book, it is time to focus instead on the results which our inquiry has yielded. The results of the present study can be divided into two categories. First, we have the concrete descriptions of the two consumer co-operative societies and how they developed, and the equally concrete conditions that account for particu- larities in these developments. Our first task is to give a structured account of these results, and, in order to do so, we will take as our point of departure the series of questions which unfolded in the first part of the book. Second, there are also results of a more analytic and more general character. When we present the results subsumed under the first category, we do so by regarding each society as a whole. Within each whole, the single questions are presented as pearls on a string. Yet, it is also possible to see an internal connection between the outcomes of particular questions. Thus, in presenting the second category of results, we focus more on the string than on the individual pearls. That is to say, we argue that the results on all these points flow from the different underlying organisational logics of the two societies. This effort of abstraction puts us in a position where we can discuss in more general terms the workings of co-operation. And this in turn can serve as a point of departure for new single-case or comparative studies of consumer co-operation.

469 1. Consumer co-operation in Britain and Sweden – results of a comparative study The over-all themes of consumer demand, co-operative democracy and the contents and discontents of co-operative politics were derived from an analysis of the historiography of consumer co-operation in Britain and Sweden. After chop- ping up these themes into more manageable chunks, permitting of empirical investigation, they roughly correspond to the general outline of the book. The three empirical parts cover co-operative services and trading practices, democratic forms and conditions for taking part in the decision-making process, co-operative forums, economic participation, demands on how to distribute co-operative resources, and demands on the development of co-operative services. The series of more specific questions referred to above – also arrived at in the first part of the book and serving as guidelines for the inquiry – cut across this division. The thematic structure prevented us from dealing with them in a piecemeal fashion. Yet, if these research questions have, up to this point, remained hidden underneath the empirical accounts, we can now make them more explicit and organise a summary statement around them. It is about time we reacquaint ourselves with these more specified questions. We ask, then, how consumer demand was channelled in the local societies, and about the nature of these demands. We ask how these demands, and the opportunities to express them, changed over time. In the case of changes in these or other regards, how do they relate to democratic forms, to the interaction between business operations and democratic structure, and to successive changes in this constellation over time? What kinds of activities were deemed as participation in the development of the two co-operative societies studied? What were the demands on the co-operative resources, and how did the distribution of resources generated through the co-operative businesses turn out? Finally, how did all this help shaping the political divisions – in a wide sense – within the respective organisations, and what were the repercussions of these external and internal member interests on business operations and democratic forms? In the following section I will answer these questions by summing up points made in the previous parts.

1.1 Explaining differences in the development of consumer co-operation in Newcastle and Malmö In answering these questions, each society will be considered separately, and the reader should be familiar with the order of appearance by now: first the Newcas- tle Society, then Solidar, and after that a short note devoted to comparisons between the two cases. Each question above will be dealt with, but I have taken the liberty of rearranging the order. We commence with the question about the character of participation: what activities were deemed as participation in the Newcastle Society? The most adequate answer is perhaps to underline that there a plethora of ways for the members to participate, and that they were all important in different ways. Through-

470 out the period examined, members’ economic participation – as shoppers in the stores and as investors in the society – was appreciated and encouraged by the board. There were deep structural reasons for this, for the economy of the member households were linked to the finances of the society. But the appreciation was not unconditional. From the society’s point of view, it could be troublesome if members invested large sums of money in times when the society had no need for it and had difficulties in finding suitable investments. The key issue was rather to co-ordinate the financial needs of the society and its members. This problem is arguably common to consumer co-operatives, but as we saw in the empirical parts, the Newcastle Society had other means of contending with it than Solidar: whereas the Swedish society used propaganda and education as a coordination device, the absence of an extensive educational infrastructure in the Newcastle Society made it necessary to rely on economic incentives instead. In this connection, however, it is sufficient to point out that economic involvement was part and parcel of participation. Partaking in the co-operative forums was another form of participation. This type of participation also enjoyed recognition and encouragement from the society, albeit more indirectly. These forums, formally external to the Newcastle So- ciety, were supported financially by the society. To a certain extent, the board could take decisions to make such contributions, but it was the member meeting that approved or disapproved of more substantial financial support to political and educational activities. The co-operative forums thus had to rally support for elections at member meetings, either to get their candidates on the board or to pass a resolution they favoured. In this way, the forums got deeply involved in the democratic decision-making process. Other circumstances conspired to give the forums a central place. Not only were they learning institutions, where members could learn the ropes and be prepared for the intricacies of rules and meeting protocol, but they were also a pooled resource for others who wished to drum up support for a particular decision. The member meeting’s far-reaching authority to control society resources, in conjunction with the practice of general meetings, contributed to according extraordinary value to mobilisation. Since the forums gathered members in one place, and since they could coordinate the views of their members, these institutions were valuable arenas for mobilising support. This line of reasoning brings us to the most conspicuous form of participation, namely partaking at member meetings. The board must have had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, a packed meeting which approved of the board’s actions and came up with valuable comments about the business, gave information and legitimacy to the board. On the other hand, a packed meeting which declined the board’s proposals and came up with resolutions of its own, deprived the board of control over the business and made the society difficult to govern. To shed some more light on this situation, we will turn to our next question. What were the demands on the co-operative resources, and how did the distribution of resources generated through the co-operative business turn out? Throughout the period of our inquiry the member meeting of the Newcastle Society retained a significant influence over the conditions of management. The meeting decided on the macro allocations to and the minor allocations from the reserve fund. The member meeting also had the last say when it came to the dis-

471 tribution of the surplus, and it was able to come up with alternative suggestions in this regard. An indirect effect of this was that it forced the board to continually strive for better control over the business it was running. This should not primarily be interpreted as a will to power, but rather as an attempt to reduce the contingencies introduced by members’ demands on the co-operative resources. Through its persistent attempts, the board did in fact win smaller and larger victories in this area. One important watershed came in 1952, when the member meeting’s access to the distribution of surplus was restricted somewhat: it was decided that no amendment increasing the financial recommendations of the board would be accepted at ordinary meetings. This meant, for example, that the meeting could not top up the recommended dividend rate, at least not without going through the process of calling a special meeting. This was no doubt a step towards contingency reduction. It was also a reduction of the member meeting’s power over the conditions of management, and it was not the only one. Yet, if the long-term tendency is for a gradual decrease of the authority of the member meeting, it started, so to speak, from a very high altitude. In comparison with our second case, the member meeting of the Newcas- tle Society could, and did, exert considerable influence on the distribution of resources generated through the co-operative business. Note also that the member meeting’s power over the distribution to and from the reserve fund interlocks with the power of members as investors. Without a sufficient amount of capital in reserves it was the members’ share and loan capital, together with the employees’ pension fund, that made up the capital base of the society. The power to drain reserves thus contributed to making the society more reliant on member investments. This predicament corresponds to the members’ understanding of their society as an investment institution, not only as a retail business, and it gave rise to the problems of coordination referred to above. Insofar as members rely on the society as an investment opportunity, they are reluctant to vote for changes that will impair interest rates. Thus, the board is faced with the problem how to invest the allocated money in a profitable way. It was when such investment opportunities were hard to find that the board came up with the mortgage scheme. This novelty was consonant with member demands. Instead of losing an old financial service, they gained a new one. In fact, a more general point can be made in relation to the introduction of long term schemes. The member meeting voted for the introduction of a mortgage scheme in 1889 and for a collective life assurance scheme in 1912. And in 1923 the meeting voted, against the expressed opposition of the chairman and board, for a scheme to build houses. The latter scheme resulted in the building of a number of houses, but it did not turn the society into a building society. The point is, however, that the mortgage scheme and the collective life assurance became long-lasting obligations: they infringed upon the possibilities, for the board as well as for future member meetings, to introduce new schemes. Because of the member meeting’s influence over the distribution of surplus, other organisations or groups could benefit from this distribution in different ways. One way was through the charitable purpose fund, introduced as early as 1868. A set of institutions in the city – mainly organisations which helped people who, without a fault of their own, had ended up in difficulties – received regular

472 donations from this fund. The charitable purpose fund is atypical in one important respect. It is an example of a pre-established slot, which received regular funding through an automatic allocation mechanism. This type of arrangement was common in Solidar but is rare indeed in the Newcastle Society. But the charitable purpose fund also stands out in relation to the corresponding funds in Solidar, for it was up for the member meeting to decide which organisations and activities should be the beneficiaries of this resource. The result in this particular case was that the member meeting took a conservative stance, being reluctant to discontinue contributions to institutions that had received support for a long time. In 1949, when the board suggested that the donations to institutions receiving state funding should be discontinued, the member meeting disapproved. And if we compare the list of recipients at the beginning of the 1960s with the one from the end of the 19th century, we find that they are remarkably similar. A second way of distributing co-operative resources to outside organisations was by means of resolutions at member meetings. This was not a pre-established slot, and a decision to support outsiders competed more directly with other possible aims and activities which the members could demand. Thus, an outside organisation or group either had to have many members on the inside of the New- castle Society, or manage to win the sympathy of members, if it was to muster sufficient support for a resolution to come through. Such efforts were made regularly, and were successful, from the end of the 19th century to the end of the 1940s. In the Post-War period the possibility for outsiders to benefit from the society’s resources in this manner diminished. From the 1950s onwards outside organisations and groups turned directly to the board, and their requests typically concerned resources other than purely monetary contributions – such as renting a hall or putting up posters in the premise of the society. One reason why outsiders’ requests for funding ran dry after 1945 was that a great deal of the society’s resources was now earmarked for particular purposes. Apart from the schemes mentioned above, the member meeting had also decided that the society should use more of its resources for educational and political ends. Thus in the Post-War period the member meetings became an arena for a tug-of-war between, on the one hand, those who wished to retain the schemes and, on the other hand, those who wished to discontinue old schemes and use the resources for other ends, e.g. introducing new schemes, securing a high dividend rate, or allotting more resources to the retail business. In 1957 the board suspended the mortgage advance. This incident is illustrative of other aspects of members’ demands on the co-operative resources. To begin with, the board’s decision was followed by protests from the members, who claimed that this was an issue for the member meeting and was not for the board to decide. That opposition is indicative of the ongoing struggle for authority between the board and the member meeting. It is a late piece of evidence, which clearly suggests that this matter had not been resolved once and for all. At the same time, however, the board’s response shows that, and how, they were edging their way towards more control over the conditions of management. The board had sought legal advice, and a solicitor who was present at the meeting explained that the board’s action was correct. Two years later the scheme was discontinued. At that point, there were relatively few protests. This absence of opposition

473 could be explained by the fact that members were up against expert opinions on technical legal matters. But other explanations also spring to mind: the chairman was careful to point out that only 1 per cent of the membership had mortgage deals with the society at the time, and that a proper building society was going to take over the service. The collective life assurance scheme was also expensive for the society, but a far greater proportion of the membership benefited from it and had grown to expect it to be there. This scheme was subject to alterations in the 1960s and was finally dismantled at the end of that decade. Yet, in contrast to the mortgage scheme, alterations and termination were handled gently in a manner which meant that old members would not lose out. Those who were members were prone to guard a resource which they had come to expect, but they were less vigilant about securing the same benefit for future generations of members. The unborn members were the first to go; only thereafter was the scheme abolished altogether. Now, to find out more about the demands on alternative uses of the co- operative resources, and about people’s opinions on the development of the co- operative retail services, we should move on to consider a couple of other questions. How was consumer demand channelled in the Newcastle Society? What was the nature of these demands, and how did they, and the opportunities to express them, change throughout the period we are concerned with? When seeking an answer to these questions we can note, first, that there were three main channels through which the members communicated their demands on the retail services to the board and management: via letters, in interviews, and at the member meetings. In the rules from 1905 it was stated that members who had complaints in this area should write to the board, and that the information in these letters would be collected in a complaint book. The idea was that the board, or a sub-committee, would take the complaints into consideration and, if necessary, call an interview with the complaining member and the employees in charge of the department concerned. While this was the formally sanctioned method of forwarding information on goods and services to officials and management, it has characteristics which deviate from the key mode of communication on matters regarding the distribution of resources. First, it tends to individualise the communication. Sec- ondly, issues relating to goods and services become subject to jurisprudence and mediation rather than to political treatment. There are odd examples where forums used their usual mobilisation practice in this area as well. We find it, for example, in a letter of complaint sent to the board by the central branch of the WCG. In this letter, the guild instructed the board to call all employees to a “Special Friendly Meeting” to discuss the critical points made by the guild. Thus, the co-operative forums also resorted to this way of communicating their demands. Despite the stipulation in the rules that complaints should be sent in writing to the board, the member meeting also became a channel for members who wished to mediate their demands on the retail services of the society. Yet, the member meeting had successively lost control over everyday management decisions during the second half of the 19th century. Questions relating to the stocking of the

474 store, and to the expansion of the store structure, were among the issues that were handled by the board and management. So even in cases where services were brought up at member meetings, they remain outside the meeting’s domain of authority. Moreover, such issues were poorly suited for a general meeting and for the customary type of mobilisation efforts. The members were thus left with an advisory instead of a decision-making role, whereas all their practices and meeting habits had prepared them for, and made them expect, contentious politics hedged in by meticulously crafted rules. We do find members taking on the role as advisors, seemingly wearing this cloak without signs of discomfort. They are members who appeared as the self-appointed representatives of the collective. But they were neither numerous nor typical. In general, this class was made up of speakers who were conspicuously well-informed about the affairs of the society – some of them were former directors – and who used the member meetings as a channel to inform the board of what, in their opinion, it ought to do to improve the society’s retail services. This leaves us with the question whether the channelling of consumer demand changed over time. If we take this question in a narrow sense, i.e. as referring to demands on retail services, and if we disregard the obvious fact that goods and services appear and disappear over time, we would be hard pressed to identify a patterned change in the Newcastle Society. The channels for communicating consumer demand did not undergo changes in one direction or the other. The major divide is not one over time, but between distribution issues and matters relating to goods and services. If, on the other hand, consumer demand is understood in a wide sense, encompassing members’ demands in general, then there were definitely changes over time. These are the piecemeal changes in rules and practices which gradually tilted authority away from the member meeting to the board and management. There are a few more things to be said about the member meeting in the Newcastle Society as a channel for consumer demand. How- ever, these points are best presented in contrast to the developments in our second case. Let us therefore turn to Solidar and save those last points for the comparative summary at the end of the section. We commence, as in our first case, with the question about the character of participation. What activities were considered to be specimens of participation? The answer to this question replicates the story from the British case. The economic participation of members as shoppers in the stores and as investors in the society have all along been appreciated and encouraged by the board and management. In Solidar the importance of economic participation is further underlined by the fact that the society frowned upon so-called paper members, i.e. members who did not shop and who did not invest in their society beyond the minimum amount of shares. Apart from stimulating members to break new sales records, the board and other formal representatives of the society also encouraged them to get engaged in the activities of the co-operative forums. These forums were closely tied to the society. In fact, the society was not only the supporter but also the creator of the local co-operative forums in Malmö. The propaganda committee of Solidar was instrumental in the creation of all of them, save for the first branch of the women’s co-operative guild.

475 The co-operative forums became part of a system to facilitate communication between the leaders of the society and the members. However, this system, which also included a three-tier representative structure of member meetings, was not firmly established until the end of the 1920s, and it was questioned and changed towards the end of our period. It is the prehistory and history of this system which comes into focus when we go on to apply our series of questions to the Swedish case. We will unfold them in reverse order compared to our treatment of the Newcastle Society, and there are substantial reasons for doing so. In the Newcastle Society matters relating to the distribution of resources take precedence over service issues; in Solidar it is the other way round. Thus, our account of Solidar goes on to answer questions about how consumer demand was channelled, about the nature of these demands, and about changes in demands and in the opportunities to express them. This puts us in a position to ask further questions about how such changes relate to democratic forms, to the interaction between business operations and democratic structure, and to successive changes in this constellation over time. Picking up these questions allows us to follow the naissance and development of the representative system, and to assess the role of member demands in this development. Solidar was initially a mixed worker and consumer bakery society. This had consequences for the form and content of the communication of consumer demand. For one thing, the members were both consumers and workers in the employ of the society. Shopping members communicated their demands on services at member meetings and through those members who were employed by the society. From 1907 to 1924 there was only one member meeting to which all members who had paid the minimum number of shares had the right to come and vote. One of the first things that the members demanded was that the society should widen its selection of bakery products. To meet this demand the society had to either rent or build a larger bakery. Both the mundane question of selection and the strategic decision about the best means of improving it were matters for the member meeting. The question whether to rent or build a bakery became an issue of debate, Solidar’s status as a combined worker and consumer co- operative causing further tensions and discussions. This, however, was a relatively short parenthesis. The task to solve the practical problems of meeting member demands was successively handed over to the board and management. With the employment of an office manager in 1912 the board was relieved of most decisions concerning everyday management. They were taken care of by a working committee with the office manager as chairman. From then on the members could turn both to the directors and to the office manager – whose title would soon change to chief executive – when they had complaints, questions and suggestions. This had consequences for the member meeting as well. It acquired a peculiar tone of questions-and-answers, which set a pattern for the future, when the member meeting was given the status of an advisory forum. But we are not quite there yet. In the middle of the 1910s a definitive division of power between the board and member meeting had not been settled. In 1914, at the outbreak of the First World War, the board turned to the member meeting to decide about price policy in the uncertain situation that prevailed. Yet, the member meeting made it clear that it did not wish to take responsibility

476 for such decisions. The board and management alone, it was argued, had sufficient information, and they should take the final decision on what to do at the moment. The one directive members forwarded to the board was that the society should stick to its policy of being the price regulator in the city. Although there was nothing final about this decision, the member meeting’s resolution to leave management questions to the board and management and reserve the member meeting for policy matters herald the order that was established in 1925. A further step towards this new order was taken in 1916, when it was decided that no person who was employed by the society could stand for office; and four years later the member meeting approved of new rules which turned the society into an exclusive consumer co-operative society. In 1925 the member meetings of Solidar, Seger, Konsumtionsföreningen i Limhamn and Rosengårds Andelsförening approved the amalgamation of these four consumer co-operative societies. With the amalgamation came a change in the democratic structure and the decision-making process. A three-tier representative system was introduced with district meetings, a member council and an annual society meeting. The emergence of that system had consequences for the way in which consumer demands were channelled. Each member was assigned to a district and was invited to participate in its yearly district meeting. These meetings were to be populated by members shopping in the same stores, and they were to encounter the district’s representatives on the member council, one or more directors and usually the chief executive. This constellation implied that members’ demands on the retail services of their society could be very specific. To be sure, the district meeting followed an agenda and a particular order, but the fact that it was only advisory invited members to come up with all sorts of complaints and suggestions, generally related to the stores and service in their area. A further consequence of their advisory status was that communication at district meetings was characterised by questions from members and answers from society representatives. Member council representatives had an important dual role in this connection. They functioned as a link between the board and the members. On the one hand, they were to mediate the demands of the members to the board; on the other hand, they informed members about the decisions of the board. The point was not that the representatives should always agree with the board, but that, through their intermediate position in the organisation, they should absorb members’ views, forward them as advice to the board and management, and propagate for the activities and services of the society. The member council was a suitable vehicle for this. It had at least four meetings annually, where the development of the co-operative businesses in Malmö was discussed, and where the directors and chief executive could test their plans on an initiated audience and learn about what the members in the different districts thought about implemented changes. Representatives on the member council also made up the annual society meeting, the assembly which, in the final analysis, was to approve or disapprove of the annual report. This three-tier system was in operation from the 1930s to the end of the 1950s. It worked in tandem with the infrastructure provided by the co-operative forums, where members socialised and learned more about co-operation, and with the extensive education and propaganda apparatus. With this organisation in

477 place, Solidar was specifically tailored to communicate consumer demand on retail services, rather than serving as a conflict arena to adjudicate between rival claims on co-operative resources. This democratic structure provided the framework within which other changes took place. Yet, the democratic structure, and the member demands it channelled, also interacted with business development. During the 1930s, 1940s and early 1950s Solidar amalgamated with no less than seven consumer co-operative societies in the countryside surrounding Malmö. These amalgamations had an impact on the demand structure. Members’ demands in these decades generally concerned improved services, more stores in new or disadvantaged areas, modernised stores, and competitive prices. Thus, when amalgamations took place, the members in the newly incorporated areas demanded that store density in their areas should be on a par with that in the old districts. This is another effect of the district system, as opposed to the practice of general meetings: to the extent that members articulate demands collectively, articulation and mobilisation are likely to follow geographical boundaries. The three-tier representative system was well-equipped to absorb member suggestions in this area, even if the decisions ultimately rested with the board and management. So to what extent did the board and management implement the members’ demands? Up until 1953, Solidar built or purchased new stores, and modernised old ones. And when new services were introduced, e.g. the sale of fish, members in areas without a fish shop were served by a mobile fish service instead. Thus, the society tried to build up an equitable system of distribution in its expanding trading area. But apart from store availability, members were also adamant about low prices. The goal to keep up with competition and keep down prices was widely shared in the membership, and members were prepared to accept sacrifices in order to achieve this goal. Many members agreed to, and some even promoted, a reduced dividend on purchases and lower interest on capital to this end. In the middle of the 20th century the trade-off between price and dividend and interest was replaced by a trade-off between prices and rationalisations. Novel- ties in the retail sector led to a reversal of the store expansion trend, turning it instead into a process of conversion and rationalisation. From 1949 onwards the society started to convert its stores into self-service units. This development, which accelerated in the second half of the 1950s, was received with mixed feelings by the members. But they were expressed within the system: members used voice rather than exit. The 1950s, and even more so the 1960s, were decades when members used the member meetings to inform the board and management about what they did not approve of when it came to the rationalisations. Yet, while members were concerned about losing local stores and about changes in selection due to rationalisation, they had not become less interested in low prices. What we observe in these decades is not massive criticism against store closures, but a simultaneous preoccupation with prices and store availability. Members were observant of the prices in the society stores. They wished to make sure that the rationalisation really did result in a reduction of prices. In these decades the propaganda and education apparatus focused on explaining why the rationalisation of the distribution system was necessary and what benefits it would bring. There were members at the meetings who greeted this devel-

478 opment with enthusiasm and who wished to see more drastic rationalisations, but they were in a minority. It was not until the introduction of a co-operative discount store in 1956 that the benefits of rationalisation gained a more widespread acceptance amongst the membership. The point is, however, that the membership was split on the issue, and that the split went right through the board. Member wishes for a cut-price policy were properly expressed and received within Soli- dar’s three-tier representative structure. There was no ambivalence until low prices were pitted against store density, which was an effect of business development. The democratic organisation in Solidar was a receptacle that could accommodate this tension as well, but some of the characteristics of this society made it sensitive to alterations affecting particular geographical units. Rationali- sation is one example of this type of change, and so is amalgamation. This is what we see in the 1960s. During this decade Solidar was not only involved in a conversion and rationalisation process, but the society also amalgamated with eight more consumer co-operative societies. Through these amalgamations Soli- dar expanded its trading area into the north-west and south-east of Skåne, thus turning it into a regional society. The society’s districts were dispersed over a larger area, at the same time as store density was decreasing. The system of communication between board and members that Solidar had developed since the end of the 1920s was put to the test. The expansion of the society’s trading area made it necessary to create district meetings for members in the new areas. The whole district division was revised, and new larger districts were created. Thus, increasing geographical distances coincided with decreasing store density and with members being reassigned to new and larger district meetings where they did not know all their fellow meeting-goers. This put the democratic organisation under pressure. For such a system to work, it was important that the information from members was representative of the whole membership. And there were doubts as to whether all parts of the old structure were apt to perform that function in a satisfactory way. The member council, which had so far constituted the link between the board and the members, was perceived to have difficulties in absorbing the views of the members. It was discontinued in 1966, and with no immediate replacement for this assembly the board tried to find out about the members’ opinions by means of surveys and questionnaires. This was indeed a major change in the way consumer demand was channelled; by the end of the period of our inquiry, we find board, management and members involved in a process of finding new suitable forms of communication. The last formulation captures an important aspect of Solidar’s democratic organisation: it was geared towards establishing communication channels. Thus, members of Solidar were actively involved in the development of their society. On the other hand, the member meetings had relatively little power to take decisions. The only real power that the annual society meeting had was that of refusing to approve of the annual report – in stark contrast to the Newcastle Society, where the member meeting had the power to influence the distribution of surplus, and thereby the capital base of the society. It may be argued that the relation between communicative function and lack of formal decision-making powers is far from accidental. In the case of Solidar the rules from 1908 set a stan-

479 dard where a certain proportion of the surplus was reserved for the reserve fund, and another fixed percentage went to an education and propaganda fund. The successive build-up of these funds implied that the society acquired a stable economy, and that it could develop an extensive education and propaganda apparatus, which in turn was part and parcel of the communication system. They were pre-established slots, to which resources were allocated through an automatic distribution device. Yet, since members had no influence over these funds, and since the board was formally or substantially in charge of other allocation decisions, the members’ energies were devoted to the one area where their opinions could make a difference, i.e. to goods and services and how to improve them. The institutional arrangements trained them for a role as advisors. Some formal ways were in fact open to members who wished to influence the distribution of resources in Solidar, but they conform to, rather than blur, the overall picture. Members who, for instance, wished to have an influence on the education and propaganda activities had to get involved in these activities and stand for election to the propaganda committee or its district branches. Similarly, the district meetings, member council meetings, and annual society meetings could come up with suggestions for the distribution of surplus. But the district organisation tended to favour articulation and mobilisation along geographical lines, and since the annual society meeting, the only assembly with sufficient formal authority to actually take decisions, was made up of district representatives, it was difficult to rally support for a particular demand. In general, the annual society meeting voted for the board’s proposal. Thus, the representative system prevented “raids” on the annual society meeting and contributed to the en- trenchment of an advisory attitude on the part of the members. Our argument, then, is that each of the elements described above interlock and is part of a configuration. The argument simultaneously contains the core of our answer to the question how the development of democratic forms, decision- making processes and business development shape the political divisions – in a wide sense – in Solidar. To bring it out more fully, we shall make use of two points of contrast. First, we contrast the post-1925 district organisation with the early developments in the society. Second, we contrast Solidar’s trajectory with that of the Newcastle Society, thereby picking up the thread where we left off above. During the infant years of Solidar the joint member meeting had a real influence over the distribution of surplus and other strategic matters. This was a general meeting where support for a particular resolution could be mobilised. We know by now that, throughout the better part of the period examined, it was the board that handled requests from members as well as from outside organisations. But the early developments are nevertheless interesting – both as a foil to later developments, and as the chain of events leading up to them. We see, for example, that the real influence accorded to the member meeting in the early days tended to turn it into a conflict arena. Yet, the peculiar construction of the society, as a joint worker and consumer co-operative, structured contentious politics. The political division ran, above all, between lay members and members in the employ of the society, and the meetings were littered with issues related to conflicts at the work place.

480 This was a somewhat precarious situation for a new consumer co-operative society. It needed to be resolved one way or the other, and the way in which it was gradually solved paved the way for a system where the member meeting obtained a more advisory role. During the formative years of Solidar, when the balance of power between the board and member meeting was negotiated, the outcome was far from certain. But the approved rules from 1908 prescribed certain restrictions on the power of the member meeting. The rules were grafted on KF’s model rules, and they stipulated that certain proportions of the surplus were to be devoted to specified ends. These resources were off limits for the member meeting and were to be handled in a more managerial way. From the very beginning the board and management could count on the free disposal of considerable amounts of money. When the lay members eventually won – or, better, as the struggle with the employees took place – measures were introduced to make the board less contentious and give more authority to management. Rules were gradually introduced to limit the influence of members in the employ of the society. And as for everyday management questions, the employment of an office manager in 1912, and the member meeting’s readiness to hand over these decisions to board and management, settled matters. This did not mean that members refrained from speaking their piece about the management of the business, but they would be offering their opinions as advisors and not as decision makers. Thus, the emerging democratic order, with a focus on communication, was becoming entrenched even before 1925. Yet, it also interacted with business development. The rapid expansion brought on by the amalgamation in 1925 raised questions about how to preserve the communicative channels, while at the same time extending them in an equitable way to members in the joining societies. We already know the solution they opted for: the district system, and the three-tier representative system of which it was part. This decision shaped both the business organisation and the democratic structure – and it set the scene for the future interplay between the two. It meant that the political divisions were both mini- mised and restructured along geographical lines. We shall not go through once again how the different elements of Solidar’s democratic structure interlock. What we shall do, however, is to emphasise that the interplay between democratic structure and business organisation continued into the 1950s and 1960s. As the trading area of Solidar grew as a result of amalgamations the districts needed to be reorganised to integrate the members from the former independent societies. This had two effects. On the one hand, it reinforced the tendency to think in terms of geographical divisions. On the other hand, it created problems for the three-tier democratic system which was to accommodate the new arrivals and other changes to the business structure. The district system was reinforced because the easiest way to give representation to members in joining societies was to give them a district of their own. It was challenged because such expansion raised questions about representation and representatives. The number of representatives at the annual society meeting threatened to become unwieldy, and the solution to this problem – to decrease the size of the meeting – had other consequences in its wake. If the old means of communication were to function properly under these circumstances, it was important that the representatives were capable of absorbing the views, not only of

481 the old members but also of young, new, and potential members. And there were doubts as to whether the representatives were up to this challenge: the representatives on the member council typically stayed on for a long time. In the 1950s and 1960s the board – and some of the members – became convinced that the society had either to rejuvenate its set-up of representatives or reorganise the whole system of communication between members and board. Thus, the generational issue became important. The board had the power to change both the business organisation and the infrastructure of the democratic system, including the set-up of co-operative forums. But it must figure out what would attract a new generation of member households to make them engage themselves in the business and in the other activities of the society. As we have seen, the early developments in Solidar provide a foil to its subsequent organisation into districts. Moreover, the same sketch gives us an idea how the three-tier representative system and its associated attitudes and practices were first locked into place. Our next task is to shift the focus of comparison and contrast Solidar with the Newcastle Society. How did the development of democratic forms, decision-making processes, and business developments interact in Solidar? And how did this shape the political divisions? We argued above that the relation between communicative function and lack of formal decision- making powers was not accidental in the case of Solidar’s member meetings. The same argument, only reversed, can be made for the Newcastle Society. Here, too, the different elements of the democratic organisation interlock and form a configuration. In contrast to Solidar, the affairs of the Newcastle Society continued to be organised around a general member meeting endowed with considerable authority over society resources. This fact had a series of interconnected consequences which relate to the questions we are now considering. The fact that something – in fact a great deal – was at stake at the member meetings made it necessary to have detailed rules regulating the proceedings; after all, binding decisions were to be taken. It also favoured a view of the society’s resources as being open to annexation and oriented the membership towards mobilisation. These factors set the stage for the democratic organisation and its future developments, as it interacted with business development. Member influence over the distribution of the surplus, not their concerns about the efficiency of available communication channels, was the driving-force behind subsequent developments. To begin with, the intricate rules which were built up to regulate the member meetings could form an obstacle to those who wished to do more than show their sympathies for proposals, ask questions, and vote. In order to get a resolution carried, or prevent one from being so, members would have to be very skilful and strategic. Not only did they have to know the rules and standing orders, they also had to know where to look for necessary support. When decisions are taken at general meetings, extraordinary weight is put on prior mobilisation efforts. This predicament, in turn, gave the co-operative forums a central role. Being a member of a co-operative forum enhanced one’s possibilities to acquire the skills and knowledge necessary for understanding and taking part in the decision- making process. And regardless whether people were members of these forums or not, they were suitable arenas for rallying support. Thus, even if co-operative

482 forums exist in both Solidar and the Newcastle Society, they take on very different functions depending on how they fit into the democratic structure. To be sure, the division into different interest groups need not follow the organisational boundaries of the co-operative forums. We have also seen that members from the same workplace – or belonging to the same trade union, political party or other association – could constitute interest groups. Yet, these are all forms of mobilisation, and it is the characteristics of the democratic organisation which makes mobilisation a key concern. The effects of this organisation are not limited to structuring political divides. They also provide the fundamental dynamics for the transformation of the New- castle Society. Rules were meticulously crafted so as to provide safeguards against rash decisions. But these rules were not formulated once and for all. They change over time, and these changes are as much part of internal politics as being distribution issues. They could be altered with the intention of affecting particular decisions, and alterations could be the outcome of a struggle among different groups within the membership or between the board and the members. The board was frequently pressing on for rule changes that would give it more degrees of freedom to handle a complex and shifting business environment, and the members frequently said no. In the long run, piecemeal rule changes nevertheless handed over more authority to the board. And in 1947, the requirements for changing the rules were themselves changed: a two-third majority was now needed if a rule change was to be carried. While this measure increased predict- ability, it also tended to favour status quo. Thus, it was an obstacle for the board when it needed additional freedom to respond to market conditions. This is demonstrated, for example, by the difficulties the board had in gaining control over matters of dividend, which influenced the society’s ability to develop the retail business. What is important in this context, however, is that the intricate rules and the consecutive rule changes would not have been necessary if the member meeting had not had such an influence over the conditions of management to begin with. The tension between mobilisation-oriented member politics, the rules this orientation necessitated and business development propelled the development of new intricate rules. Towards the end of the period of our inquiry the authority of the member meeting was undermined, but the formalism it had spawned remained intact. Yet, rule changes were not the only factor which undermined the power of the member meeting. One more factor must be mentioned, which also has its roots in the member meeting’s influence over the conditions of management. Since the member meeting could take binding decisions on the use of society resources, it could also decide to lock them up in expensive long-term schemes. When it did so, it diminished the possibilities of the board – and, even more importantly, of future member meetings – to have entire disposal of the resources. Considered jointly, these developments add up to a situation where, in the end, the society’s meetings may not have appeared as attractive to young people, potential members and outside groups. Little was at stake at the member meetings when a big portion of the resources was earmarked. It was rather complicated to rally support outside the already established co-operative forums. And the formalism of the meetings was as impenetrable as ever, despite the fact that

483 the meeting did not have as great resources to struggle over. For long-time members meetings could still have their appeal. They had an interest in the established services and schemes, and they knew how to manoeuvre at meetings. There is also an element of pride – and rightly so – in the old members’ achievement of having learnt the complex formalities of the society. But for the very same reason, the member meetings of the Newcastle Society were perhaps not of great interest to new and potential members. Thus, the generational issue turns up in the Newcastle Society as well, but for very different reasons. In both societies, democratic structure and business organisation interact, evolve together, and shape political divides. But they do so in different ways, from different starting points, and within the framework of very different configurations. The configurational aspect is particularly important, for it means that identical institutions, decisions, and outside pressures can have entirely different meanings, functions, and effects in the two organisations. It also provides a bridge to our next and last endeavour, which is to assess our results from a more general analytic point of view.

1.2 The workings of co-operation – analytical reflections Our inquiry into the workings of co-operation has been built up around within- case comparisons over time and cross-case comparisons between two concrete local consumer co-operative societies. As this investigation is drawing to a close, it is urgent to assess the generality of our conclusions. How far can we extrapo- late our findings? What limits are there to generalisation, and where should they be drawn? Let it be clear from the outset that finding the limits of an explanation is not an admission of defeat – it is a constructive contribution to, and specification of, the explanation itself. Before we get there, however, we must first say a few words about our claims for generality. How is it possible to say anything general about the workings of co-operation from our two cases? Surely, they have been subjected to countless influences – some local, others regional, national, or even global – which have all shaped them in one way or the other. In light of this multitude of contexts and contingencies, it would appear difficult to say anything that applies to a more general class. But this is a chimera. Recall, first, that we have focused on how the organisations handled things rather than on the things they handle. This is, admittedly, a result of the way we have posed the questions. It says nothing about generality, even if it narrows down the scope and specifies our research interest. But the results which were generated as we confronted our questions with the empirical material are no research artefacts. They are real enough, and they show that the societies’ reactions to external contingencies are patterned and emanate from separate organisational logics. The responses of the Newcastle So- ciety are not those of Solidar, and vice versa, and there is a system to how they respond. These systematic properties, these underlying organisational logics, give rise to the configurations we have chartered above. Our claims for generality are grounded in the argument that we are dealing with coherent, interlocking, and identifiable organisational logics. The fact that the Newcastle Society’s member meeting had considerable power over the dis-

484 tribution of surplus, and was organised around a general meeting, is intimately linked to the emergence of detailed rules. The same fact accounts for the emergence of mobilisation-oriented member meetings. Detailed rules, in turn, tend to foster certain abilities within the membership and favour the participation of those who are deeply involved in the society’s affairs. Conversely, Solidar’s district organisation – in conjunction with the low degree of power vested in the district meetings, and with a focus on education and propaganda – tends to favour and foster a communicative orientation. Etc. When the societies act and react to external changes, these configurations set the paradigm. We do not mean that the Newcastle Society is typically British, or that Solidar illustrates the fate of all consumer co-operative societies in Sweden. The argument is instead that, to the extent that a co-operative society grants a great amount of power to the member meeting, organised as a general meeting, then certain types of struggles, problems, and attempted remedies are likely to ensue. And to the extent that a district organisation is combined with a minimal influence over surplus, and with a fair-sized education and propaganda apparatus, interaction in the society is likely to be shaped in a certain way. When a society ends up on one of these tracks, the road ahead is not determined. Nor, however, is it arbitrary. The best way of putting it is to say that there are powerful mechanisms which connect different elements of the organisational make-up and condition future responses, but that we should also expect empirical variation. This brings us to the question of the limits of our explanation. The Newcastle Society and Solidar are cases of consumer co-operation, and the organisational logics we have chartered are cases of the workings of co-operation. Let us, however, move up a level and consider “consumer co-operation” as a case. We can afford to remain agnostic here as to what this new entity is a case of – be it of organisational life in general, of working class organisations, of companies, or what have you. Depending on how we frame this casing, we will of course obtain very different classes to compare with. But our reason for moving up a level is rather to regard consumer co-operation as the map, and ask what sort of continents we have discovered and which coordinates are used in the construction of the map. This gives us three items to discuss: the possibility of variation within each of the two continents, the possibility of discovering new continents, and the coordinates themselves. Each provides a way of addressing questions concerning the scope and limits of our explanations. Consider first variation within the continents. The Newcastle Society and Solidar are, in all likelihood, far from unique. The organisational logics they ex- emplify can be found in other societies as well. But even so, these other societies will have their own histories. The local contexts of which they are a part will differ, as will the contingencies they must respond to. So even if other societies ex- emplify one of the organisational logics we have chartered, there will be variation within this continent. This is also important, and this is the reason why, in Part Two, we have gone into the details of local developments in our two cities. It is a task for future research to inquire into the difference this makes in concrete organisational histories. When such investigations are carried out, we might stumble upon limiting cases which force us to rethink the continents. Take, for example, the strong insistence on high dividends in the Newcastle Society. This

485 does not follow from the organisational logic we sketched for this particular society. The members could equally well have preferred low prices over high dividend. This was the pattern in the south of England, and it remains to be shown whether these societies otherwise resemble the Newcastle Society and vary only in this respect. And, if so, we must ask whether this implies that they are parts of another continent, specimens of another organisational logic. Moreover, it is possible, in fact likely, that we will discover other continents. We have argued that the organisation of the member meeting which we found in the Newcastle Society made it likely that the society would develop very detailed rules. It is likely, but it is not necessary. In theory, we can easily conceive of a society where the member meeting, organised around a general meeting, had control over the conditions of management without developing detailed rules. Whether there are, or have been, actual societies which fit this description is another matter. But we should look hard for them – in the graveyard of consumer co-operation, if necessary – since investigating them would contribute with strategic additions to our knowledge of the workings of co-operation. The same holds for communication-oriented societies which are not organised into districts, or which failed to generate sufficient capital to sustain a large education and propaganda apparatus. In other words, future inquiries may well discover other forms of organisational logics, which pattern the responses of classes of consumer co-operative societies. This, too, would be a vital contribution to our knowledge about consumer co-operation. Yet, the search need not, and should not, be made at random. The co-ordinate system which we have used for this study can provide a method for these expeditions. We arrive, then, at our last point: the latitudes and longitudes for charting the workings of consumer co- operation. What do we need to know in order to determine our position when we continue our search for white spots on the map? I would suggest a multidimen- sional coordinate system, with four constitutive axes. First of all, we need to investigate the relation between the society and its member households, particularly the relation between the economy of the member household and the finances of the society. Only by doing so can we get a sense of how – in which ways and to what extent – the fate of the society is intertwined with member participation. Our lengthy accounts of the character of member participation have been instrumental for discovering the organisational logics of our two societies. Second, we need to work out the relation between national legislation and model rules. This formulation makes it clear why the nation is not the proper unit of generalisation, but also why national characteristics are important determinants. There is a world of difference between a 19th-century legislation based on British friendly societies, and one based on the conditions of Swedish joint stock companies. The legislative framework has both direct and indirect effects, and both relate to the uses and functions of model rules. Sub- scribing to KF’s model rules was an entrance requirement to the federal organisation, and these rules were drawn up by representatives from societies whose practices had been established within the framework of the joint stock company act. In Britain, on the other hand, model rules were not construed as entrance requirements. But the Rochdale rules were convenient to copy, both because they provided practical guidance in unfamiliar territory and because imitating them

486 was a safe and expedient way of getting one’s own rules accepted by the Regis- trar. National legislation, and its interplay with model rules, is thus a strong de- terminant behind the development of consumer co-operative societies. In this sense, national boundaries are of immense importance. Yet, this must not obscure the equally important fact that, even on this point, there is variation within countries. Not all Swedish co-operatives chose to join KF, and not all British co- operatives adopted the Rochdale rules. Third, we need to investigate the relation between rules and practices in consumer co-operative societies. On the one hand, practices cannot be inferred directly from the rules. We cannot content ourselves with assuming that rules mirror actual practices. On the other hand, and apart from this methodological caveat, the interplay between rules and practices gives us invaluable information about what sort of organisational logic we are dealing with. Moreover, the results from our study provide a third reason for taking this interaction seriously. The Rochdale rules played an important role in both Sweden and Britain, but the results of the transplantation differ depending on what sort of configuration they are inserted into. This is an example of a more general finding, which we have seen examples of throughout the book: the same element may take on different meanings and functions in societies operating according to different organisational logics. From this point of view, it would be interesting to see an in-depth study of the diffusion of the Rochdale rules, which at the same time pays attention to the interplay between recipient and transplant. Our fourth axis concerns the relation between the business environment and the development of co-operative services. When we set out to explore our two societies, we began by studying the development of co-operative services in the business environments of Newcastle and Malmö, and the regions in which these cities are located. These are fairly large cities, and the societies developed into large co-operatives, each with a prominent position on the local retail scene. They arrived at these positions through rather different business strategies, but both societies diversified co-operative services and introduced more retail services. The business environment – i.e. the co-presence of all kinds of businesses, non-co-operative as well as co-operative – matters for the kind of demands members will raise and what will be perceived as a need. In large industrial cities, where a number of different kinds of co-operatives are established, the niche for consumer co-operative societies which have started out as retail co-ops is more or less set, but the potential to introduce new retail services is ‘endless’. This situation, however, does not apply to all co-operatives. In a smaller town or village, diversification could very well imply the introduction of services outside the retail trade. In a smaller village, “the store” has a bigger potential to develop into a village co-operative, taking care of everything from medical services and child care to the telephone exchange. This is not to say that large co-operatives in large cities cannot change tracks, but it does mean that the conditions for, and the directions of, such changes may be very different from small co-operatives in small cities. If we want to discover new continents on the map of consumer co- operation, it may be profitable, for instance, to search for co-operatives at the other end of the size spectrum. Moreover, a focus on the interplay between societies and their business environment provides an opportunity to capture how

487 changes in demand structure and competition affect the workings of co-operation in the long run. The coordinates may be fixed, but external changes can be part of a continental shift which slowly alters the organisational logic and relocates the continents. It is appropriate to conclude our book with these suggestions for further research. The coordinates we have described are best thought of as heuristic devices, and the limitations we have pointed out are, more than anything else, a pointer to new studies along these lines. And there is another reason for making this an open-ended story. The history of consumer co-operation in Newcastle and Malmö did not end in 1970.

2. Coda The very first example in this book was a description of motions sent to the annual society meeting of Solidar in 1979 – almost ten years after the end of our period of inquiry. That was a conscious decision. It points forwards, and elimi- nates the halo effect that the end of an inquiry is somehow related to the end of the phenomenon. In 1979, new issues had come up on the agenda, and members were still mediating their demands. How the system for mediating these demands evolved, and how alterations in communication channels and demand structure influenced the development of services, is a topic for a new study. In the case of the Newcastle Society, 1970 does mark an end, in the sense that it joined the NECS and ceased to be a separate society. But in this new guise, consumer co- operation continued in Newcastle. The NECS, now the North Eastern and Cum- bria Co-operative Society, still runs stores and supports co-operative forums in the city. Much has changed, however. Going shopping at the Co-op in Newcastle and Malmö today is a different experience from doing so in the beginning of the 20th century, or in the middle of that century for that matter. One interesting and very noticeable difference is the promotion of organic and fair trade products. In Swedish co-operative shops, it is the propaganda for organic goods that dominate; in Britain, the emphasis is more on fair trade products. Now, considering what this study has told us about the moral dimension of service introduction, the promotion of these new kinds of products is an indication that the message in the Co-op stores has never been more political than it is now. It would be interesting to find out if the introduction of organic goods and fair trade products began with a resolution taken at a member meeting – would it not?

488 Appendix

Chart 13. Appendix 1 Charitable purpose and education: The Newcastle So- ciety 1883-1968

7000

6000

5000

4000

3000

2000 Charitable purpose fund 1000

0 Educational fund Sums in British pounds 1883 1893 1903 1913 1923 1933 1943 1953 1963

YEAR Source chart 13: Return of Trade Northern Section. Both Congress Proceedings/Congress Report and Return of Trade consists of annual statistics sent to the Co-operative Union.

Table 4. Appendix 2. Showing charitable disbursements from Report and Statements of Accounts for year ending 1st September 1962 Receiving institutions: sums in pounds Royal Victoria Infirmary 75 Fleming Memorial Hospital for Sick Children 18 Newcastle Dispensary 30 Northern Countries Institution for the Deaf and Dumb 5 W. J. Sanderson Home for Crippled Children 10 Northern Countries Orphanage 5 Percy Hedley School for Spastic Children 50 Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children 10 Poor Children’s Holiday Association 5 Stannington Sanatorium 5 Princess Mary Maternity Hospital 9 Sick and Indigent Society 5 Hospital for Diseases of Throat, Nose and Ear 5 Discharged Prisoners’ Aid Society 5 Invalid Loan Society 10 Royal National Lifeboat Institution (Tynemouth Branch) 25 Shipwrecked Fishermen and Mariners’ Royal Benevolent Fund 10 Royal Victoria School for the Blind 5 Workshop for the Adult Blind 5 National Library for the Blind 5 National Institution for the Blind 25 National League for the Blind 25

489 Incorporated Seamen and Boatmens’ Friendly Society 5 Northumberland Aged Mineworkers’ Homes Association 5 Rheumatoid Arthritis Clinic 15 People’s Dispensary for Sick Animals 5 British Empire Leprosy Relief Association 5 Infantile Paralysis Fellowship 5 Newcastle General Hospital 75 National Fund for Poliomyelitis Research 10 British Diabetic Association 10 Marie Curie Foundation 18 SUM 500 Table 5. Appendix 3. Showing sums applied to the Education Fund and other purposes, Solidar 1912-1945 Year Educa- Sums Library and Sagostunds- Malmö Under- Husmödrarnas tional to reading verksamheten A. B. F. stöds- semesterfond Fund study room of lo- i Malmö (soci- (WEA) fonden (Vacation circles cal branch alistic associ- (The Relief Fund for of the SAP ation for child- Fund ) Housewives) ren) 1912 255 1913 466 100 50 1914 267 100 50 1915 347 100 100 1916 719 100 100 1917 661 200 200 1918 1,570 500 200 1919 1,582 500 200 1920 1,733 500 200 1921 1,759 500 200 1922 1,974 500 200 1923 2,638 500 200 1924 4,065 500 200 300 1925 7,379 500 250 250 1926 300 300 2,000 1927 300 300 2,000 1928 5,000 1929 2,000 1930 5,000 1931 7,000 1932 10,000 1933 6,676 10,000 1934 1,840 - 10,000 1935 1,980 5,020 10,000 1936 2,791 15,000 - 1937 4,370 20,000 10,000 1938 3,922 30,000 10,000 1939 4,262 - - 1940 2,993 - - 1941 3,887 - - 1942 4,453 - - 1943 4,733 - 1944 20,357 - 30,000 1945 15,249 Table 3. is based on figures presented in the Annual Report under the heading Nettoöver- skottets fördelning (Application of Surplus) and in the case of funds for education also the figures I have been able to distinguish in the Balance Sheets in the Annual Report as sums

490 allocated to education. I have round up the figures and therefore only kronor not ören is presented in this table. Study circle 1933: 1,50 kronor is given as a contribution to buy literature, to all participants in study circles. Sagostundsverksamheten i Malmö (socialistic association for children): From 1928 sums are allocated to this from the operating budget. Malmö A. B. F. (WEA): From 1928 sums are allocated to this from the operating budget. Understöds-fonden (The Relief Fund ): Sum in this account 130,000 kronor transferred to the Reserve Fund in 1956. Husmödrarnas semesterfond (Vacation Fund for Housewives): Sum in this account 60,000 kronor transferred to the Reserve Fund in 1956.

491

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494 Konsumentföreningen Solidars arkiv, Malmö Förvaltningsberättelser Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar (FKFS) 1907-1940, 41- 49, 50-60. Kooperativa Föreningen Seger Protokollsbok No. 1. 28/3 1905 – 8/9 1909, No. 2. 22/9 1909 – 21/12 1914, No. 3. 4/1 1915 – 14/3 1922, No. 4. 25/3 1922 – 30/4 1928. All minute books in Box Kooperativa Föreningen Seger protokoll 28/3 1905 – 30/4 1928, Arbetsutskottets protokoll 10/4 1923- 30/4 1925. Kooperativa Bageriföreningen Solidar Protokollsbok No. 1. 13/10 1907 – 14/8 1910, No. 2. 21/8 1910 – 15/3 1914, No. 3. 16/3 1914 – 6/8 1919, No. 4. 31/8 1919 – 12/4 1928. Protokollsbok för Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar u. p. a. Malmö, 10/5 1926 – 11/11 1940 (föreningsstämmor). All minute books in Box Kooperativa Före- ningen Solidar protokoll 13/10 1907 – 12/4 1928, föreningsstämmoprotokoll 10/5 1926 – 11/11 1940. Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar Bilagor till protokoll föreningsstämmor 1944- 1967. Konsumentföreningen Solidar Bilagor till styrelsens protokoll §§ 171-398 1965. Konsumentföreningen Solidar Bilagor till styrelsens protokoll §§ 203-307 1968. Map Solidar, Seger, Limhamn. Diverse Handlingar. Protokoll & Rapporter från Propagandakommittén 1924-1946. Protokollsbok Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar protokoll vid distriktsmötena år 1928, 1929, 1933 och 1935-1945. Protokollsbok Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar protokoll från distriktsstämmor år 1946 och 1948-1955. Protokollsbok Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar protokoll från distriktsmötena 1956-1964. Protokollbok för Medlemsrådet inom Kooperativa För. ”Solidar”, Malmö Bok II 7/3 1937 – 28/3 1951. Protokollbok för Medlemsrådet inom Kooperativa För. ”Solidar”, Malmö Bok III 26/4 1951 – 4/4 1966. Styrelseprotokoll Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 1928-1931. Styrelseprotokoll Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 1944-1947. Styrelseprotokoll Kooperativa Föreningen Solidar 1948-1951. Verksamheten 1961 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Verksamheten 1962 Konsu- mentföreningen Solidar; Verksamheten 1963 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Verksamhetsberättelse 1964 Solidar; Verksamhetsberättelser 1965 Konsum – Solidar – Domus; Verksamhetsberättelse 1966 Konsum – Solidar – Domus; Verksamhetsberättelse 1967 Konsum, Domus, Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Verksamhetsberättelse 1968 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Verksamheten 1969 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Verksamheten 1970 Konsumentföreningen Soli- dar; Verksamheten 1971 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Vår Verksamhet 1974, Konsument-Dialog utgiven av Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Vår Verksamhet 1975, Konsument-Dialog utgiven av Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Konsum So- lidar 1976; Vår Verksamhet 1977, Konsument-Dialog utgiven av Konsumentfö- reningen Solidar; Vår Verksamhet 1978 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Konsum äger vi tillsammansVerksamheten-79 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Vår verksamhet 1981 Konsumentföreningen Solidar; Konsumentföreningen Solidar

495 Verksamhetsberättelse 1982; Konsumentföreningen Solidar Verksamhetsberät- telse 1983; Konsumentföreningen Solidar Verksamhetsberättelse 1984; Konsu- mentföreningen Solidar Verksamhetsberättelse 1985; Konsumentföreningen So- lidar Verksamhetsberättelse 1986.

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505 Scott Gillian, Feminism and the Politics of Working Women. The Women’s Co-operative Guild, 1880s to the Second World War, (1998), UCL Press, London. Sjölin Walter, Konsumenter i samverkan. En skildring av konsumentkooperationen i göte- borgsområdet under ett sekel, (1967), Konsumtionsföreningen Göteborg med omnejd. Skarin Frykman Birgitta, Från yrkesfamilj till klassgemenskap. Om bagare i Göteborg 1800-1919, (1985), Etnologiska institutionen, Göteborg. Skarstedt S., Lagen om Ekonomiska Föreningar af den 22 juni 1911, (1912), P. A. Nor- stedt & Söners Förlag. Slack Margaret, Northumbrian Fare, (1981), Frank Graham, Newcastle upon Tyne. Smelser Neil J., Social Change in the Industrial Revolution: An Application of Theory to the British Cotton Industry, (1959), The University of Chicago Press, Chicago. Smith Ken, ”From Ships to Shops”, in Water under The Bridges. Newcastle’s Twentieth Century, (1999). Sommarin Emil, Ur Skånska jordbrukets historia från 1800-talets början till 1914, (1938), Skrifter/ utgivna av de skånska hushållningssällskapen vid deras hundraårsju- bileum 1914, Malmö. SOU 1981:60 Kooperationen i Samhället. Huvudbetänkande av Kooperationsutredning- en, (1981), Stockholm. Southern Jayne Brenda, The Co-operative Movement in the North West of England, 1919- 1939: Images and Realities, (1996), a thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, Lancaster University, unpublished. Sparverksamhet och bosättning. Betänkande avgivet till Kooperativa förbundets kongress 1937, Kooperativa förbundets bokförlag, Stockholm. Stephenson T. E., Management in Co-operative Societies, (1963), Hienemann, London. Stolpe Herman, Kooperationens grundsatser förr och nu, (1971), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm Strikwerda Carl, “’Alternative visions’ and working-class culture: The political economy of consumer cooperation in Belgium, 1860-1980”, in Consumers against Capitalism?, (1999). Stryjan Yohanan, “Organizations and their members, members and their organizations: towards a theory of organizational reproduction”, in Studies in Action and Enterprise, 1990:1, Stockholm University Department of Business, Stockholm. Stryjan Yohanan and Mann Curt-Olof, “Members and markets: the case of Swedish consumer co-operation, in Yearbook of Co-operative Enterprise 1988, (1988). Svenning Olle, Lojaliteter, min far(s), (1995), Fischer & Co, Stockholm. Svensson Harry, Samköpsföreningarnas verksamhet, Särtryck ur Pris och Kartellfrågor Nr 4/1960. Svensson Inge, ”Hantverk och industri jämte levnadsförhållanden och arbetsmarknad i Malmö under perioden 1820-1870”, Malmö stads historia tredje delen (1820-1870), (1981), Allhems förlag, Malmö. Sveriges Näringsliv: Malmö, (1923), Svenska Handels & Industriförlaget Malmö. Thomson Alistair, ”’Domestic drudgery will be a thing of the past’: Co-operative women and the reform of housework”, in New Views of Co-operation, (1988). Tjäna varandra i samverkan, Konsumentkooperationens handlingsprogram, 1989, unpublished. Todd Nigel, “The red herring war of 1872: women’s rights, butchers and co-ops in the Northern Coalfield, in Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth: 150 Years of Co- operation. Essays in the History of Co-operation, (1996). Todd Nigel, “Ambition and harsh reality local politics…local politicians”, in Water under the Bridges: Newcastle’s Twentieth Century, (1999).

506 Todd Selina, The Co-operative Youth Movement Between the Wars. A study of the Co- operative Comrades’ Circles, (1998), A dissertation submitted for the degree of Mas- ter of Arts in Contemporary History at the University of Sussex, unpublished. Towards the Co-operative Commonwealth: 150 Years of Co-operation. Essays in the His- tory of Co-operation, (1996), Eds. Lancaster Bill and Maguire Paddy, Co-operative College and the History Workshop Trust, Manchester. Treuenfels Rudolph L., “Cooperative store personnel as educators”, in Journal of Educa- tional Sociology, Vol. 16, No 8, April 1943. Tronêt Bertil, Kooperativt kapital. Konsumentkooperativa finansieringsformer och finansieringsproblem 1946-1978, (1979), Rabén & Sjögren, Stockholm. Trägårdh Lars, “Utopin och den sociala ekonomin”, in Om kooperation & social ekonomi. Röster i ett nordiskt samtal, Eds. Wijkström Filip and Johnstad Tom, Kooperativ Års- bok 2000. Tullgren Pia, Hemarbete och husmodern. Kooperativa Förbundet under 1950-talet, (1999), C-uppsats, Historiska institutionen, Lunds universitet, unpublished. Vall Natasha, Explorations in Comparative History: Economy and Society in Malmo and Newcastle since 1945, (2000), PhD dissertation Northumbria University, Newcastle, unpublished. Vall Natasha, “The emergence of the post-industrial economy in Newcastle 1914-2000, in Newcastle upon Tyne – A Modern History, (2001). Wallén Bengt, Enighet ger styrka: En kortfattad historik över den finlandssvenska andels- rörelsens verksamhet från separationen från Pellervo till ‘återföreningen’ i en värld av genomgripande förändringar 1919-1999, (1999), Helsingfors. Walton John K., Lancashire: a Social History 1558-1939, (1987), Manchester University Press, Manchester. Water under the Bridges: Newcastle's Twentieth Century, (1999), Eds. Flowers Anna and Histon Vanessa, Tyne Bridge Publishing, Newcastle upon Tyne. What is a Case? Exploring the Foundations of Social Inquiry, (1992), Eds. Ragin Charles C. and Becker Howard S., Cambridge University Press, Melbourne. Winstanley Michael J., The Shopkeeper’s World 1830-1914, (1983), Manchester Univer- sity Press, Manchester. Woodward Philip, The Indoor Food Market and its Evolution c. 1800-1906, (1997), Doc- toral Thesis, University of Brighton, unpublished. Yeo Stephen, A Chapter in The Making of a Successful Co-operative Business: The Co- operative Wholesale Society 1973-2001, (2002), Zeebra Publishing Ltd in association with The Co-operative Group, Manchester. Zelizer Viviana A., “Circuits of commerce”, in Self, Social Structure, and Beliefs: Explo- rations in Sociology, (c2004), Eds Alexander Jeffrey, Marx Gray T., Williams Chris- tine, University of California Press, Berkeley. 1885-1985 Honderd Jaar Socialisme Een Terugblik, (1985), Archief en Museum van de Socialistische Arbeidersbeweging, Ghent.

Magazines and Newspapers Co-operative Gazette Co-operative Youth: The Organ of the British Federation of Co-operative Youth Dagens Nyheter Limhamniana Kooperativ Information The Co-operative News

507 The Co-operator The Daily Chronicle and Northern Advertiser

508 Acta Wexionensia Nedan följer en lista på skrifter publicerade i den nuvarande Acta-serien, serie III. För förteckning av skrifter i tidigare Acta-serier, se Växjö University Press sidor på www.vxu.se

Serie III (ISSN 1404-4307) 1. Installation Växjö universitet 1999. Nytt universitet – nya professorer. 1999. ISBN 91-7636-233-7 2. Tuija Virtanen & Ibolya Maricic, 2000: Perspectives on Discourse: Proceed- ings from the 1999 Discourse Symposia at Växjö University. ISBN 91-7636- 237-X 3. Tommy Book, 2000: Symbolskiften i det politiska landskapet – namn-heraldik- monument. ISBN 91-7636-234-5 4. E. Wåghäll Nivre, E. Johansson & B. Westphal (red.), 2000: Text im Kontext, ISBN 91-7636-241-8 5. Göran Palm & Betty Rohdin, 2000: Att välja med Smålandsposten. Journalis- tik och valrörelser 1982-1998. ISBN 91-7636-249-3 6. Installation Växjö universitet 2000, De nya professorerna och deras föreläs- ningar. 2000. ISBN 91-7636-258-2 7. Thorbjörn Nilsson, 2001: Den lokalpolitiska karriären. En socialpsykologisk studie av tjugo kommunalråd (doktorsavhandling). ISBN 91-7636-279-5 8. Henrik Petersson, 2001: Infinite dimensional holomorphy in the ring of formal power series. Partial differential operators (doktorsavhandling). ISBN 91- 7636-282-5 9. Mats Hammarstedt, 2001: Making a living in a new country (doktorsavhandling). ISBN 91-7636-283-3 10. Elisabeth Wåghäll Nivre & Olle Larsson, 2001: Aspects of the European Re- formation. Papers from Culture and Society in Reformation Europe, Växjö 26-27 November 1999. ISBN 91-7636-286-8 11. Olof Eriksson, 2001: Aspekter av litterär översättning. Föredrag från ett svensk-franskt översättningssymposium vid Växjö universitet 11-12 maj 2000. ISBN 91-7636-290-6. 12. Per-Olof Andersson, 2001: Den kalejdoskopiska offentligheten. Lokal press, värdemönster och det offentliga samtalets villkor 1880-1910 (Doktorsavhand- ling). ISBN: 91-7636-303-1. 13. Daniel Hjorth, 2001: Rewriting Entrepreneurship. Enterprise discourse and entrepreneurship in the case of re-organising ES (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-304-X. 14. Installation Växjö universitet 2001, De nya professorerna och deras föreläs- ningar, 2001. ISBN 91-7636-305-8. 15. Martin Stigmar, 2002. Metakognition och Internet. Om gymnasieelevers in- formationsanvändning vid arbete med Internet (doktorsavhandling). ISBN 91- 7636-312-0. 16. Sune Håkansson, 2002. Räntefördelningen och dess påverkan på skogsbru- ket. ISBN 91-7636-316-3. 17. Magnus Forslund, 2002. Det omöjliggjorda entreprenörskapet. Om förnyel- sekraft och företagsamhet på golvet (doktorsavhandling). ISBN 91-7636-320- 1. 18. Peter Aronsson och Bengt Johannisson (red), 2002. Entreprenörskapets dy- namik och lokala förankring. ISBN: 91-7636-323-6. 19. Olof Eriksson, 2002. Stil och översättning. ISBN: 91-7636-324-4 20. Ia Nyström, 2002. ELEVEN och LÄRANDEMILJÖN. En studie av barns lä- rande med fokus på läsning och skrivning (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91- 7636-351-1 21. Stefan Sellbjer, 2002. Real konstruktivism – ett försök till syntes av två do- minerande perspektiv på undervisning och lärande (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-352-X 22. Harald Säll, 2002. Spiral Grain in Norway Spruce (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-356-2 23. Jean-Georges Plathner, 2003. La variabilité du pronom de la troisième personne en complément prépositionnel pour exprimer le réfléchi (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-361-9 24. Torbjörn Bredenlöw, 2003. Gestaltning – Förändring – Effektivisering. En teori om företagande och modellering. ISBN: 91-7636-364-3 25. Erik Wångmar, 2003. Från sockenkommun till storkommun. En analys av storkommunreformens genomförande 1939-1952 i en nationell och lokal kontext (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-370-8 26. Jan Ekberg (red), 2003, Invandring till Sverige – orsaker och effekter. Års- bok från forskningsprofilen AMER. ISBN: 91-7636-375-9 27. Eva Larsson Ringqvist (utg.), 2003, Ordföljd och informationsstruktur i franska och svenska. ISBN: 91-7636-379-1 28. Gill Croona, 2003, ETIK och UTMANING. Om lärande av bemötande i pro- fessionsutbildning (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-380-5 29. Mikael Askander, 2003, Modernitet och intermedialitet i Erik Asklunds tidiga romankonst (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-381-3 30. Christer Persson, 2003, Hemslöjd och folkökning. En studie av befolknings- utveckling, proto-industri och andra näringar ur ett regionalt perspektiv. ISBN: 91-7636-390-2 31. Hans Dahlqvist, 2003, Fri att konkurrera, skyldig att producera. En ideologi- kritisk granskning av SAF 1902-1948 (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636- 393-7 32. Gunilla Carlsson, 2003, Det våldsamma mötets fenomenologi – om hot och våld i psykiatrisk vård (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-400-3 33. Imad Alsyouf, 2004. Cost Effective Maintenance for Competitive Advantages (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-401-1. 34. Lars Hansson, 2004. Slakt i takt. Klassformering vid de bondekooperativa slakteriindustrierna i Skåne 1908-1946 (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636- 402-X. 35. Olof Eriksson, 2004. Strindberg och det franska språket. ISBN: 91-7636-403-8. 36. Staffan Stranne, 2004. Produktion och arbete i den tredje industriella revolu- tionen. Tarkett i Ronneby 1970-2000 (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-404-6. 37. Reet Sjögren, 2004. Att vårda på uppdrag kräver visdom. En studie om vår- dandet av män som sexuellt förgripit sig på barn (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-405-4. 38. Maria Estling Vannestål, 2004. Syntactic variation in English quantified noun phrases with all, whole, both and half (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91- 7636-406-2. 39. Kenneth Strömberg, 2004. Vi och dom i rörelsen. Skötsamhet som strategi och identitet bland föreningsaktivisterna i Hovmantorp kommun 1884-1930 (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7686-407-0. 40. Sune G. Dufwa, 2004. Kön, lön och karriär. Sjuksköterskeyrkets omvandling under 1900-talet (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-408-9 41. Thomas Biro, 2004. Electromagnetic Wave Modelling on Waveguide Bends, Power Lines and Space Plasmas (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-410-0 42. Magnus Nilsson, 2004, Mångtydigheternas klarhet. Om ironier hos Torgny Lindgren från Skolbagateller till Hummelhonung (doktorsavhandling). ISBN:91-7636-413-5 43. Tom Bryder, 2004. Essays on the Policy Sciences and the Psychology of Po- litics and Propaganda. ISBN: 91-7636-414-3 44. Lars-Göran Aidemark, 2004. Sjukvård i bolagsform. En studie av Helsing- borgs Lasarett AB och Ängelholms Sjukhus AB. ISBN: 91-7636-417-8 45. Per-Anders Svensson, 2004. Dynamical Systems in Local Fields of Charac- teristic Zero (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-418-6 46. Rolf G Larsson, 2004. Prototyping inom ABC och BSc. Erfarenheter från ak- tionsforskning i tre organisationer (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-420-8 47. Päivi Turunen, 2004. Samhällsarbete i Norden. Diskurser och praktiker i omvandling (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-422-4 48. Carina Henriksson, 2004. Living Away from Blessings. School Failure as Lived Experience (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-425-9 49. Anne Haglund, 2004. The EU Presidency and the Northern Dimension Initia- tive: Applying International Regime Theory (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91- 7636-428-3 50. Ulla Rosén, 2004. Gamla plikter och nya krav. En studie om egendom, kvin- nosyn och äldreomsorg i det svenska agrarsamhället 1815-1939. ISBN: 91- 7636-429-1 51. Michael Strand, 2004. Particle Formation and Emission in Moving Grate Boilers Operating on Woody Biofuels (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636- 430-5 52. Bengt-Åke Gustafsson, 2004. Närmiljö som lärmiljö – betraktelser från Gnosjöregi- onen. ISBN: 91-7636-432-1 53. Lena Fritzén (red), 2004. På väg mot integrativ didaktik. ISBN: 91-7636-433-X 54. M.D. Lyberg, T. Lundström & V. Lindberg, 2004. Physics Education. A short history. Contemporary interdisciplinary research. Some projects. ISBN: 91-7636-435-6 55. Gunnar Olofsson (red.), 2004. Invandring och integration. Sju uppsatser från forskningsmiljön ”Arbetsmarknad, Migration och Etniska relationer” (AMER) vid Växjö universitet. ISBN: 91-7636-437-2 56. Malin Thor, 2005. Hechaluz – en rörelse i tid och rum. Tysk-judiska ungdo- mars exil i Sverige 1933-1943 (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-438-0 57. Ibolya Maricic, 2005. Face in cyberspace: Facework, (im)politeness and conflict in English discussion groups (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-444-5 58. Eva Larsson Ringqvist och Ingela Valfridsson (red.), 2005. Forskning om undervisning i främmande språk. Rapport från workshop i Växjö 10-11 juni 2004. ISBN: 91-7636-450-X 59. Vanja Lindberg, 2005. Electronic Structure and Reactivity of Adsorbed Me- tallic Quantum Dots (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-451-8 60. Lena Agevall, 2005. Välfärdens organisering och demokratin – en analys av New Public Management. ISBN: 91-7636-454-2 61. Daniel Sundberg, 2005. Skolreformernas dilemman – En läroplansteoretisk studie av kampen om tid i den svenska obligatoriska skolan (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-456-9. 62. Marcus Nilsson, 2005. Monomial Dynamical Systems in the Field of p-adic Numbers and Their Finite Extensions (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636- 458-5. 63. Ann Erlandsson, 2005. Det följdriktiga flockbeteendet: en studie om profile- ring på arbetsmarknaden (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-459-3. 64. Birgitta Sundström Wireklint, 2005. Förberedd på att vara oförberedd. En fe- nomenologisk studie av vårdande bedömning och dess lärande i ambulans- sjukvård (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-460-7 65. Maria Nilsson, 2005. Differences and similarities in work absence behavior – empirical evidence from micro data (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-462-3 66. Mikael Bergström och Åsa Blom, 2005. Above ground durability of Swedish softwood (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-463-1 67. Denis Frank, Staten, företagen och arbetskraftsinvandringen - en studie av invandringspolitiken i Sverige och rekryteringen av utländska arbetare 1960-1972 (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-464-X 68. Mårten Bjellerup, Essays on consumption: Aggregation, Asymmetry and Asset Distributions (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-465-8. 69. Ragnar Jonsson, Studies on the competitiveness of wood – market segmentation and customer needs assessment (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-468-2. 70. Ali M. Ahmed, Essays on the Behavioral Economics of Discrimination (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-472-0. 71. Katarina Friberg, The workings of co-operation.. A comparative study of consumer co-operative organisation in Britain and Sweden, 1860 to 1970 (doktorsavhandling). ISBN: 91-7636-470-4.

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