As any seasoned Londoner will know, Tube strikes are just as much part of the fabric of city life as the London Underground itself.
At first, we were told the latest swathe of strikes had been called off – except for Thursday. Oh, and Tuesday. Can anyone keep up? It’s surely no surprise that as the negotiations rumble on, public support wanes – I know I have lost sympathy for it all now, after more than 10 years living in the capital. It is a racket.
But it’s not just the inconvenience of it all – though it is hideously, achingly inconvenient. It seems like a million years ago, but before the pandemic (when everyone was expected in the office five days a week and “WFH” simply didn’t exist), I vividly remember the pain of squeezing onto cramped buses first thing in the morning because of yet more industrial action. I have flashbacks of the driver inexplicably kicking everyone off miles away from the final destination and hundreds of commuters weaving and jostling through Oxford Street like salmon.
Although they happen slightly less frequently now (and are often threatened but then called off), strike days still feel like warfare. You have to prepare yourself for battle before even having your morning coffee; there’s no room for error or indecision. And it’s exhausting. It is even worse for those on shift, as not getting to work on time – or at all – also impacts their earnings.
But there’s more to it than inconvenience – there’s a very real safety risk, too. The latest Tube strikes aren’t just disruptive – they’re dangerous. For women and children – particularly teenage girls – it is a daunting and very real danger to be left without a safe route home, especially since the clocks changed last month.
It once took me six hours to get back from work during a strike day (when it should have taken half an hour). Without any warning, the bus I was on took a detour and then terminated in an industrial lot I had never heard of before, leaving me stranded.
To make matters worse, my phone was all but dead and I had to frantically research alternative routes on 2 per cent battery – not that apps are reliable in these instances, as they know just as little about what’s going on as you do. I ended up walking for miles by myself, on a cold, dark, winter’s day.
I was lucky that I got home in one piece – but that hasn’t always been my experience when getting around London. Nor is it always the experience of other women.
Women’s safety in the capital became a particularly pertinent topic after the murders of Sarah Everard and Sabina Nessa in 2021. Their brutal killings validated our concerns and highlighted the need for change.
At the time, a petition asking for the Night Tube to be reinstated gathered momentum online, with nearly 200,000 signatures supporting the motion. Even now, while the Underground operates on a 24/7 basis on the weekends, it isn’t every line and some TfL workers are striking over the antisocial hours that come with it – once more plunging the initiative into doubt.
And the alternative of getting a taxi isn’t always safe or feasible, either. That same year, TfL reported that 182 cases of rape and sexual offences took place in private hire vehicles. It is also a hefty added expense and disproportionately affects those from less privileged backgrounds. Those of us who can’t afford it have to risk our safety on the streets by walking home.
I am not against strike action on the whole. But what I am against is putting other people – people who aren’t in any way responsible for your working conditions – in harm’s way and leaving them out of pocket.
