Management at my old university London Metropolitan (LMU) are continuing their energetic attempts to destroy what is left of its reputation.
Shortly after threatening to derecognise Unison earlier this year, vice-chancellor Malcolm Gillies suspended two staff members, then the head of their institute.
Two female workers have been subjected to hours of interrogation and fear they could be next.
LMU has an extremely dodgy recent track record on decision-making.
In April last year the controversial Gillies announced that he was considering a ban on the sale of alcohol on the university's campuses.
This was not an attempt to cut jobs by closing campus bars but, he claimed, a reaction to Muslim students becoming suddenly offended by proximity to the demon drink.
When someone finally bothered to ask them, they responded with a resounding "eh?"
Getting into its stride, LMU next sold out the unique Women's Library.
The largest collection of women's material on women's history and the women's movement in Britain or Northern Ireland, it was uniquely accessible thanks to a £5 million purpose-built building commissioned by LMU just 10 years ago.
Its archives contained a wealth of information - books, magazines, pamphlets, posters, suffragette banners and other artefacts charting women's issues over four centuries.
Rarities include the purse and return train ticket of Emily Wilding Davison, who died on Epsom racetrack after hurling herself under the king's horse 100 years ago this June.
But LMU decided the library was too expensive to run and had to go. The architect fears the building will be demolished, as it is too unique to be adapted to another usage.
The London School of Economics stepped in to rescue the collections and I have no doubt will do its best for them. But as part of another institution's collections they will be a different entity and likely less accessible.
The library closes this month and because of the enforced move no original material will be accessible until October.
LMU pleaded poverty but made no attempt to seek outside funding - it's worth considering that the government has given the Imperial War Museum £35 million to expand.
But war is, of course, far more in line with Michael Gove's idea of "proper" history than women.
Having dispensed with an internationally valued resource, the university scarcely paused for breath before turning on its own staff.
This January Gillies threatened to derecognise Unison. Days later its brnch chairman Max Watson and newly elected staff governor Jawad Botmeh were suspended.
Both work for the internationally recognised Working Lives Research Institute (WLRI), which is dedicated to social justice and works with the trade union movement.
It's worth noting that its Swedish counterpart, with which WLRI worked closely, was shut down overnight when a reactionary government was elected.
A senior LMU figure had recently been heard talking of the need to "cleanse" the "oppositional element" within the staff.
Watson is on Unison's national executive and had campaigned against the Women's Library's closure, fought LMU's various attempts to privatise and outsource roles and opposed its use of private firm Capita to run IT and other non-teaching services.
The notorious outsourcing company is conducting LMU's ongoing "business process review" - getting rid of staff, to those not fluent in human resources-speak.
Just before Watson's suspension Gillies attacked him personally in an open all-staff email because Watson had advised members that they did not need to co-operate with Capita. This is union policy.
Botmeh was also suspended and WLRI's head Professor Steve Jefferys followed.
All three are accused of potential misconduct around Botmeh's employment. When applying for a temporary post at WLRI 5 years ago, Botmeh declared a past criminal conviction.
Watson, who was overseeing interviews, consulted with Jefferys on this and the two men checked university policy. They found the conviction made no difference to the application and proceeded accordingly. Botmeh was exceptionally well-qualified, holding a Master's degree, and was hired.
In 2010 Botmeh applied for a permanent post and again declared his criminal record. He was appointed.
Yet in 2013, after Botmeh's election to the board of governors, his appointment suddenly became an issue - though the university has not been able to suggest any rules or procedures broken - and the men were suspended.
Their treatment has been extreme. Watson was given 70 minutes notice of his first hearing and was surrounded by security guards who would not allow his representative through.
Ironically, WLRI was set up by LMU to undertake research and teaching which emphasises equality and social justice. Perhaps those at the top should be made to write out those words 100 times on the nearest interactive whiteboard.
At the first stop the witch-hunt campaign meeting earlier this week, Michael MacNeil from the University and College Union said that as no offence had been committed a deeper agenda must be at work.
He called the suspensions "crass stupidity" and warned that they dovetailed with wider government policy. "The heart is being ripped out of our universities and public services and trade unions are at the forefront of combating this social vandalism," he declared.
PCS General Secretary Mark Serwotka said it was clear LMU was victimising trade unionists involved in opposing cuts: "The whole university sector is watching. This is a fight we have to win or trade unionists will suffer the consequences for years."
A message of support from the PCS NEC read: "Witch-hunts don't identify trouble-makers; they identify the heroes of our movement."
Jefferys and Watson spoke of their personal ordeals and thanked supporters. Watson said he knew LMU had been trying to build a case against him for some time because of his union activities and had tried to portray him as a bully for advising staff on union policy concerning Capita.
He added that the university's human resources director has said that at one hearing, as Watson looked at her in total bemusement, that "just the way you're looking at me now is intimidating."
"I wish I'd known that was all it took," Watson commented ruefully.
Jefferys spoke movingly about his 30-year career and the colleagues he'd felt privileged to have worked with. He warned that LMU had now effectively declared war on trade unions.
He concluded, in a message we should all take to heart: "We can win. We will win. We must win."
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