When the cuts bite ... we must galvanise and organise

If you've been following the emerging anti-cuts movement , you'll most likely be exposed to a certain overused phrase: when the cuts bite. "When the cuts bite," we hear, "there'll be riots on the streets." When the cuts bite, a wave of revolution will save our public services. It's not surprising those opposing the cuts, and I include myself in this group, hold this belief. Evidence suggests the government's austerity programme will hit the most vulnerable the hardest , and may have permanent consequences on the political landscape of British society. Cameron's cure for the "bloated public sector" is likely to result in significant numbers of qualified, well-educated, totally unemployable people. Little wonder we're expecting anger. Maybe we're right, and impending mass unemployment will translate itself into action. Or maybe unemployment will land a crushing blow to grassroots opposition, as it did following the miners' defeat in the mid 1980s. Like a kettle at a student protest, unemployment is not always galvanising, it is debilitating. Those facing or experiencing unemployment are trapped: trapped by a lack of resources, a lack of purpose, and an inability to see a way out. A 2009 study by the John J Heldrich Center for Workforce Development found anxiety, helplessness, hopelessness and depression commonly felt by those experiencing unemployment. Having spent most of last year off and on redundancy notice, this is something I can identify with. The prospect of unemployment was so terrifying for me and my colleagues, it created little psychological room for political anger. Instead, we got our heads down, gritted our teeth, and hoped that if we kept quiet we'd come out of the other side unscathed. Indeed, the academic Robert Cohen noted that in the 1930s many students became more studious, rather than political, in order to secure a position in a merciless job market. Far from declarations of solidarity, Henry Magdoff, a student at the time, admits that the Great Depression compelled some students to be "horrendously competitive". In a dazzling display of audacity, the government is portraying itself as a fellow victim of this harsh new climate of austerity. Like millions of families across the country, we are told that tough choices have to be made; that there is no alternative, as though our politicians have no agency in the poverty they are about to inflict upon the country. This isn't just distasteful: it's also remarkably clever. Current political rhetoric is attempting to create a nation of people getting their heads down, gritting their teeth, and keeping quiet. The subtext of "we're all in this together" is the same as the psychology of unemployment: there is no way out. For anyone under 40, this all feels horribly abnormal. In reality, it's nothing new. George Osborne's spurious definition of fairness, where " all must make a contribution ", shrewdly recalls government rhetoric of the 1940s: a time when people were encouraged to save electricity, or dig their own vegetables, in an effort to heal a war-torn country. Cameron's Tories are hoping that in these jobless times, the British public will simply " keep buggering on ", as Churchill put it. This time, however, the reward for doing so will be the sacrificing of the postwar welfare state, apparently in the interests of our hallowed national credit rating. Paradoxically, unemployment is likely to dismantle the traditional channels used to protect its victims. Union membership in the 1980s fell dramatically , not just as a result of Thatcher's anti-union laws, but also because of soaring unemployment. Three million people out of work meant far fewer union members. This fact, coupled with a clampdown in legislation, has prevented worker power from ever recovering. Those wanting to play a part in the fight against government cuts should be ready to organise, instead of storming ahead and expecting others to dutifully follow. True, popular opposition has historically burst into action, but these acts of rebellion – like our own student protests last year – are often short-lived expressions of anger that struggle to affect real change. The fledgling anti-cuts movement needs to transform that anger into something constructive. David Kynaston, author of Austerity Britain, cited two lessons learned from austerity in the 1940s: "First, that most people will broadly accept straitened times if they are genuinely convinced of their necessity and that there is no alternative. Second, that social cohesiveness during such an unwelcome turn of events will rest to a large degree on the extent to which the pain is administered on an equitable, transparent basis." Just before the election, less than a third of the country believed that the cuts were unfair. Given Kynaston's observations, it shouldn't be surprising that this figure is now more than half. The coalition is losing the argument for cuts, despite pressing ahead with the battle. We can make sure it loses the battle too, but to do that we cannot be complacent. It isn't just unemployment, but the fight against it, that will require us to grit our teeth.