Margaret Thatcher's second term saw Britain's economy boom... but prosperity for the rich was paid for by millions of working men and woman.
The result was that the 80s saw Britain under Thatcher bitterly divided - while champagne corks popped in the City, the unions reeled from her assault on organised labour.
In the spectacular stock-market boom of the late 80s, Britain's rich became even richer.
Half of all the tax breaks brought in during Thatcher's 11 years in office went to the top 10百分比.
The Big Bang which revolutionised the way the City of London operated, throwing out hundreds of years of safeguards, brought untold riches to City spivs as Thatcher sold off the family silver, privatising state-run utilities such as British Gas and British Telecom.
A flurry of privatisations followed - of electricity and airlines - which raised a fortune for the Treasury.
City whizzkids, nicknamed yuppies, short for Young Upwardly-mobile Professionals, made huge bonuses by shifting money around the globe, contributing nothing but their ability to play a market.
All the while, government-backed ad campaigns like "Tell Sid" promised more easy money by urging ordinary folk to become shareholders and gamble their savings on the stock market roller-coaster.
"Loadsamoney" was the mantra of the era and, in a move that would decimate social housing for decades to come, Thatcher encouraged tenants to buy their homes at knock-down prices to cash in on the property boom in the hope that former council renters would be transformed into Tory voters.
But before she could bring in these changes, Thatcher had to rid the country of?worker?power - the Enemy Within, as she scandalously described ordinary members of trade unions.
With a landslide majority, she ruthlessly attacked the trade-union movement, leaving British?workers?exposed to exploitation, and destroying whole industries.
For some, it remains the greatest achievement of her years in office. She was a free marketeer and to achieve her aim she cared little for the lives of theworkers?and their families.
Problems with the unions were endemic: Labour governments suffered from them as much as the Tories. But they had more difficulties dealing with them, as any action against the unions was seen as treachery. Thatcher had no such divided loyalties.
But she knew the pitfalls - she had served under Edward Heath and seen his government ground down by the unions.
So she started her industrial reforms slowly, with small changes. She did not want to confront the unions, she wanted to outflank them by appealing above the heads of their dyed-in-the-wool left-wing leaders to the rank-and-file membership. She marginalised their leaders, refusing to meet them.
The first legislation in 1980 banned secondary picketing but not secondary strike action.
It did not go far enough for her right-wingers - there was no withdrawal of benefits from strikers' families, no opting in to the political levy for the Labour Party.
But it was clever. It was mild enough to leave the union leaders, baying for confrontation, isolated. A call for a "Day of Action" failed dismally as the vast majority went into work.
But when the steel unions started a bitter strike against the British Steel Corporation's plans to rationalise the industry and cut jobs, she defied her cabinet by announcing plans to cut strikers' benefits, and from then on her attack on the unions escalated. More legislation followed in 1982, 1984, 1988 and 1990.
The biggest beast in the union jungle was the National Union of Mineworkers. From the moment Thatcher took office, she started laying down plans to defeat them. She backed down from a confrontation in 1981, finding funds to keep uneconomic pits open, biding her time until she was battle-ready.
She won the minor skirmishes. In 1982, both the NHS?workers?and the railwaymen lost out after lengthy strikes and it seemed, for a time, as if some of the other unions were scared of taking her on. The NUM three times rejected the calls of their new President Arthur Scargill to strike, and British Leylandworkers?also voted to accept a pay offer their leaders wanted to reject.
But in 1984, the gloves came off. Thatcher's government had secretly built up large stocks of coal at the power stations and had converted as many as possible to burn oil.
Fleets of road hauliers were recruited to move coal if the railwaymen came out on strike with the miners. The strike was precipitated by the appointment of Ian McGregor, a hardliner who had been running British Steel and who had a track record in America of beating a two-year mineworkers' strike.
To stem ?250million-a-year losses, he proposed closing pits in Yorkshire, Scotland and South Wales. Scargill came from Yorkshire, his equally left-wing deputy, Mick McGahey, came from Scotland. Battle was inevitable.
Yorkshire, Scotland and the small Kent coalfield were solidly in favour of strike action. When Scargill called for an all-out strike, he set miner against miner, pit village against pit village.
In some cases he even set father against son, brother against brother. What followed was appalling. Police were recruited in huge numbers from forces across the UK.
There were pitched battles between them and the striking miners. Newspapers and television showed picture after picture of battered and injured men.
Miners' wives, in the meantime, set up soup kitchens and appeals were launched nationally for food to feed their children.
The worst fighting happened at Orgreave, near Sheffield, where 5,000 pickets tried to stop coal being moved to the Scunthorpe Steelworks. Even greater numbers of police, many on horseback, battled with them daily for three weeks. On the first day alone 104 police officers and 28 pickets were injured.
By the end, several hundred, including Scargill, had been arrested.
Tony Benn, MP for Chesterfield at the time of the strike, said: "They were skilled and courageous men who had built the prosperity of Britain. They were treated like criminals by Mrs Thatcher, and they were right economically as well. It's a story that will never be forgotten."
And Dennis Skinner, Labour MP for Bolsover, said: "It was an honourable dispute. It was the only strike I can recall that wasn't about pay but was about saving jobs for other people."
While there was much sympathy for the strikers, Scargill attracted hostility. He was too rabid, too unprepared to reason, too much of a bully. When he was discovered to have asked for money from Libya's notorious Colonel Gaddafi, it was a spectacular own goal. Labour leader Neil Kinnock and the TUC joined Thatcher in condemning him.
While Scargill and his men remained isolated, Thatcher knew she could win. There was enough coal at the power stations for 18 months' electricity: she was confident the NUM would crack by then. Although other unions expressed support, few did anything to actively help the strike, largely because many miners were still working.
The Government treated their pay claims leniently to keep them sweet.
By the end of October 1985, the miners started to drift back to work. It was clear the Government could sit out the winter, and they were given deferred bonuses for returning to work. But it was not until the following March, a whole bloody and bruising year since it started, that the union ordered the rest of its men back to the pits.
Thatcher had prolonged the strike by her unwillingness to compromise: she was as stubborn as Scargill. The difference was, she was the winner.
The following year more battles broke out between police and pickets, this time outside Rupert Murdoch's newspaper plant in London's Docklands.
Murdoch, a long-standing ally of Thatcher's, moved the workforce for his four newspapers, The Times, The Sunday Times, The Sun and the News of the World, to Wapping without including the print?workers?in the deal. It provoked another bloody and violent struggle, which again lasted for a year. Before it began, Thatcher had assured Murdoch he would have the police manpower needed to ensure victory.
While manufacturing industries went to the wall, Britain became the bargain basement where third-world countries came to buy machinery that was standing idle.
But a year after the miners' strike ended, a rare attempt by Thatcher's government to save a British company split her cabinet apart. Her legendary intransigence forced Defence Secretary Michael Heseltine, her long-standing Conservative Party foe, to resign over the notorious Westland affair.
Heseltine stormed out of a meeting at No10, saying his views on the future of the struggling Westland helicopter company, which had attracted rescue packages from the US and Europe, were being ignored.
Two weeks later Thatcher's trusted Trade and Industry Secretary Leon Brittan was forced to resign after admitting he had authorised the leaking of a government law officer's letter which criticised Heseltine.
Thatcher won the battle but in some ways Heseltine won the war. In 1990, he unsuccessfully challenged Thatcher for the Tory party leadership, triggering the series of political events that would ultimately lead to her downfall.
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