There is Power in a Union

I wrote this essay two years ago, but it was never published. I think it still works, though it may be more optimistic in tone than is warranted.

THERE IS POWER IN A UNION

By Hank Kalet

The setting is the work floor of a textile manufacturer in North Carolina. Workers cram the room, watching as votes are counted. It is the penultimate scene of Norman Ritts’ Norma Rae, and the audience waits with the workers, unsure of the outcome. Final tally: 373 against the union, 427 for. Tension broken, the workers erupt in cheers and chants.

It is the film’s iconic moment, a demonstration that collective action can succeed. Norma Rae was released in March 1979 – 35 years ago – and I remember rising to my feet when the final vote was announced.

There hasn’t been much to cheer since then on the labor front. In just the past few months, employees rejected a union at a Tennessee Volkswagen plant despite support from management, buying into Republican anti-union propaganda, while workers at a Washington Boeing plant caved on a contract laced with givebacks. Both votes followed job-loss threats – Tennessee politicians said a union would damage the plant’s future, while Boeing threatened to move from Washington – and are indicative of legal and global trends that have unions on the defensive.

“The competition fostered by globalization and public policy that is less oriented toward creating stability for workers are making it difficult to wall off and protect workers the way unions did before,” said David Bensman, labor historian at Rutgers University.

Yet, there is evidence of a revival. The 2011 Occupy protests and organizing by fast-food, Walmart and undocumented workers has forced wage and workplace issues onto the table – including calls for a more robust living wage, protections against wage theft and municipal rules forcing companies to provide paid sick leave.

“My overall view is that this is a time of crisis and a time of renewal,” Cesar Pink, a visual artist with the Brooklyn-based Arete Living Arts Foundation, said. He is making a six-part documentary on the history of the labor movement called Strength in Union that he hopes will be released later this year.

“The best thing that happened to labor was the Occupy protests,” he said. “It got ’99 percent v. 1 percent’ into everybody’s mind. Everybody knows it is an issue facing the country and labor is at the front line of that.”

The labor movement’s struggles matter. Union membership as a percentage of the workforce, according to federal estimates, has been in decline since the 1950s. Today, just one in 10 workers belong to a union, compared with a historic high of one in three in the ‘50s. This drop-off has consequences. According to the Economic Policy Institute, union workers earn 13.6 percent more than their non-union counterparts, receive better health benefits and are more likely to have retirement plans. Therefore, as the unionized workforce shrinks, inequality grows – hence the need for a strong labor movement.

But first, big labor may have to get out of its own way. The AFL-CIO, at its 2013 national convention, endorsed greater ties to other community and social-justice groups. This came over the objection of some unions seeking to defend a model of unionism – one tied to individual contracts and workplaces — that succeeded in the past.

“As long as (unions) were able to negotiate contracts and achieve steady gains, that model was fine,” said Roland Zullo, research scientist with the University of Michigan Institute of Labor and Industrial Relations. “But we are now in an era where that is hard to do. The law has changed, quite radically because of Supreme Court decisions, but also because the economy is more global.”

The right-to-work movement, historically strong in the South but now spreading to the Rust Belt, is part of the shift in the legal environment, Zullo said. Michigan passed a right-to-work law as part of a budget bill at the end of 2012, on the heels of a similar Indiana vote. These bills allow workers to opt out of unions in their workplace, but to receive union benefits (negotiated salaries, disciplinary protections), and are designed to strip unions of operating cash. This has three effects: making it harder to negotiate and administer contracts; bleeding strike funds and weakening the leverage the strike threat provides; and making unions less likely to engage in political behavior, out of fear that support for progressive politicians and causes might lead members to opt out.

“This is about making it more difficult for the labor movement to politically support progressive politicians in (Michigan),” he said. Because of this, he said, the impact goes beyond individual unions. “It is about workplace safety, the minimum wage – those things, too, are affected by the right-to-work law.”

That is because unions aggregate workers and equalize power between employer and employee. The demands of individual workers are easily dismissed, but the demands of a united workforce are harder to ignore.

Consider Norma Rae. As the film opens, Norma – played by Sally Fields, who won an Oscar for the roll – complains to management about her mother’s temporary hearing loss. She is rebuffed, clearly not the first time management has ignored a worker complaint. It is only the threat of the union – triggered by the arrival of an organizer from New York — that changes the dynamic.

Norma Rae, as a film, is a flawed vehicle for a union argument. It boils much of the narrative down to a personal-growth story. But the lesson at its core – that collective action matters — should not be forgotten.

Workers understand this, which is why we are witnessing another rebirth of worker-focused organizing and political activity with the as organizing of low-wage work – the fast-food industry, Walmart, home-health aides – and the passage of local sick-time requirements and state minimum wage hikes gathering momentum.

“Unions are recognizing that the situation has changed fundamentally and that they have to change their strategy fundamentally,” Bensman said. “They are trying to reach out to unorganized workers and tying to find ways of creating strength and solidarity.”

Zullo says the efforts are not unusual – “unions have always done both” contract negotiations and organizing – but that impediments to “bargain(ing) in the workplace” have made “it is so difficult to form a union today to help workers through private bargaining” that it “is forcing them to become more political and to raise their base outside of unions.”

Pink said unions had become complacent, focusing more on contracts than movement building. The Occupy protests, which started in New York City in 2011 and spread to other cities, altered the debate. It injected income inequality and class division into the national dialogue far more effectively than anyone had in recent memory.

And they demonstrated the need for collective action to counter industry as it chases profits. That’s the key argument made by Reuben Warshawsky, the labor organizer played by Ron Liebman in Norma Rae. He tells textile workers that an un-unionized textile industry is “free to exploit you, to lie to you, to cheat you, and to take away from you what is rightfully yours. Your health. A decent wage. A fit place to work.”

Warshawsky is talking about unions, but also more broadly about the need for collective action. He easily could be talking to the thousands of low-paid fast-food workers and part-time Walmart employees agitating for higher wages and lending new energy to the labor movement. And that is Pink’s point.

“People feel strongest about unions when they are in a struggle,” he said. “The fast food workers and the Walmart workers, they are struggling for representation.”

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Notes on the Oregon acquittal

The Twitter essay is, at best, an imprecise tool for presenting one’s views. It’s value lies in the its brevity and immediacy. Its flaws lie in its sequential nature on a platform that does not necessarily encourage sequential reading.

So, when I posted a six-part Twitter essay earlier today on yesterday’s verdict in the Oregon Bundy trial, I knew I was likely to be misunderstood.

At the same time, I knew my thinking on the Bundy case would fly in the face of the broader narrative. From the beginning, I was troubled both by the Bundy brothers and their followers — by their rhetoric, their readiness for violence, their commitment to firearms. At the same time and for very different reasons, I was troubled by the reaction from my fellow progressives — the accusations of treason, the calls for police action and a clampdown.

My argument — which you can read in detail here — was that we have to separate the Bundys and their aims from the use of occupation as a protest tool. Remember, there are precedents for occupation (from labor sit-ins and factory take-overs to Occupy Wall Street and the Dakota pipeline protests) and even for armed resistance (the early labor movement armed itself against the Pinkertons and the Black Panthers did the same in an effort to “police the police”).

Don’t get me wrong, I am opposed to violence. I subscribe to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s belief in non-violence, even though his message has been mangled and manipulated over the years. King urged non-violence, but encouraged disruption. He believed in creating tension and using that tension to force change. But I digress.

My point is that we should be careful with our language and arguments in the Bundy case. We can denounce their goals, their motivations and their methods, but we need to be careful not to do so in a way that will give authorities new tools that can be used to crack down on progressive protest — which we already are seeing.

I still believe this, and I think my Twitter essay, when taken as a whole, reflects this:

Let me be clear, though: I didn’t and still do not support what the Bundys did. I didn’t and still don’t support their use of firearms as implied threat. I didn’t and still don’t think they should be free from the legal consequences that come with what they did. But, and this is the key for me, I fear the potential that the federal government might overstep their power in political cases.

I didn’t follow the trial — like most of the people who have weighed in — so I can’t comment on the specifics of the prosecutors’ case. But I’m generally skeptical of the use of conspiracy statutes — as I am of the use of the Patriot Act and the expansive use of the RICO statute — and it appears that the jurors felt that the prosecutors failed to make their case.

via SIZZLE

One other point needs to be made: The racial optics of this case cannot be ignored. The fact that it was an all-white jury that acquitted the white defendants — at a moment in our history when black men and women are chewed up and spit out by a racially biased criminal justice system and when state and federal officials are cracking down on non-violent protesters in North Dakota — can’t be dismissed. Because of this, the ruling gives off a distinctive odor of privilege.

Rather than calling for a crack down on right-wing protests, we should be demanding the federal government back off in North Dakota, for police to tone down their aggressiveness, especially in urban areas. Rather than just being outraged by the acquittals in Oregon, we should be outraged at the excessive use of government power against its own citizens in North Dakota, Charlotte, Baton Rouge, Staten Island and all across this country.

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Debate recap: And the loser is…. (UPDATED: Links added)

Some short takes on last night’s debate:

1. Hillary Clinton won, but it was by no means a knock out — and, in any case, framing each debate as an individual contest, a boxing match or horse race, is a mistake. Political campaigns are long slogs. We are still six weeks out from the election and a lot can happen.

Clinton has her backers, who were buoyed by her performance last night, but I question whether the debate did much to move anyone else. Trump was petulant and bigoted, and he lied repeatedly, but he has his hardcore backers who are defending him and claiming victory, though his performance likely drew no new supporters his way.

We’ll have to wait for the polls, but I just don’t see the numbers shifting more than a couple of points.

2. Donald Trump is a dangerous demagogue, who lives in a fact-free zone, who refuses to play by agreed-upon rules and operates purely by bullying his way through situations. His business history indicates this — he built his empire not by dint of his knowledge and hard work, but by gaming the system, by preying on the less powerful and using his reputation to elbow out those who challenge him. He admitted his much several times last night — when he described earlier comments he made describing the housing meltdown as a business opportunity, when he patted himself on the back for using the system to protect his interests, and by constantly interrupting Clinton and shouting over her.

3. Clinton may be more presidential and will offer a steadier hand on foreign policy, but she did little to change my mind about her hawkishness. She used the language of gang way to describe the killing of Osama bin Laden and her approach to ISIS — increased air strikes, targeted assassinations, etc.

4. Trump’s foreign policy amounts to this: Everything is the greatest threat, we are alone, we have no responsibility to others, others owe us everything, we are entitled to everything. Make America Great Again.

5. So, she is a hawk, but he is a fearmongering loose cannon. At least with the hawk, I have an idea what she might do and can organize against it.

6. Did I say Trump was petulant? He is a candidate who has essentially run a campaign based on personal attacks, nasty digs and disrespectful nicknames: Crooked Hillary, Lying Ted, Little Marco. But he complains that Clinton has targeted him with an advertising campaign? Typical bully.

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Writing and reading baseball

The Courier-Post has a story today previewing the Oct. 1 Collingswood Book Festival, which will feature a program on baseball poems. I’ll be reading along with B.J. Ward and Bruce Niedt, both lifelong baseball fans and fantastic poets. You can read the story here, and find the festival schedule, directions and other information here.

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It’s about Charlotte — and all of America

When Charlotte erupted in violence earlier this week, many white Americans retreated to pre-established narratives.

There were memes posted to Facebook reminding us how difficult it is for a police officer to gauge potential danger (as if anyone would dispute this).

There were calls, primarily from police supporters, that we wait to judge until the investigation is concluded — often from the same people so willing to jump to conclusions in terrorism cases, or to judge criminal suspects in the court of public opinion.

We heard about the criminal history of the victim in Charlotte, which was then used to justify the shooting — before the investigation played out, unmasking the bias behind calls from the same people to wait until the facts were known.
And we’ve heard pleas to treat incident separately, as if each had nothing to do with the other.

These seemingly distinct arguments are tied together by a couple of threads. They tend to be made by white suburbanites like myself, people who have the privilege of not fearing for our lives when we see a police cruiser in the rear-view mirror. For us, this is not an existential issue — which helps explain why much of the debate over the NFL-national anthem protests has broken down along racial lines.

I will not speak for African Americans. I can’t, nor should I. But based on what I’ve heard from people I’ve interviewed and from things I’ve read, each black death at the hands of police has a cumulative effect and underscores the failures of a nation built on the enslavement of Africans and the disenfranchisement of freed slaves and other people of color.

The list of black deaths is long, resembling a high school honor roll, but without the honor, and is happening at a time when support systems for the poor — which has a disproportionate impact on communities of color — have been gutted, when voting rights are being scaled back, when more black men are in prison than in college, and so on. The criminal justice system has been rigged against people of color — the lawmakers, laws, administrators, police, jails, reintegration programs, etc, have been designed to or have been managed in a way that creates a disproportionate impact on communities of color (read Michele Alexander’s The New Jim Crow).

So when Keith Lamont Scott is killed by police in Charlotte, under disputed circumstances, the community in Charlotte erupts. The eruption — a riot? a rebellion? an uprising? — is about Scott, but also about the failure of the American political and economic system to “raise all boats,” to use a term favored by the free-marketeers.

Charlotte Mayor Jennifer Roberts, a Democrat, seems to understand this, according to The Washington Post.

Roberts said she believes the anger on her city’s streets — the bloody clashes, looting and street bonfires — is being driven by this nationwide outrage over repeated shootings of black men by police. But the anger has local roots as well, she acknowledged.

As mayor of a city that remains starkly segregated by wealth and race, Roberts said she has tried to narrow those gaps and bridge the resentment and distrust built up over years of disparate policing and economic inequalities.

“We still have discrimination in our society. We still have disparity. We’re working really hard to ameliorate that,” Roberts said. “We have many different groups working on closing the economic gap in Charlotte, people working on the gap in schools and education.”

Discrimination, disparity, botched or tainted investigations, a presidential candidate calling for the return of a stop-and-frisk strategy, a national, decades-long policy of militarize policing (read Radley Balko’s work in The Washington Post or his book Rise of the Warrior Cop) and turning urban areas into occupied zones — but African Americans need to wait, to let the facts come out, to wait for the process to determine guilt. Except, the process nearly always exonerates — few cops are charged (Tulsa stands out because of this), fewer are indicted, fewer still go to trial and a negligible amount get convicted.

So what exactly are we asking African Americans to wait for? I’m going to end with two quotations from Martin Luther King Jr. — I taught “Letter from Birmingham Jail” yesterday. The first, I think, places the Charlotte disturbances in context, the second explains why waiting is not an option, why justice and equality must happen now. “Riot,” he said in 1966, “is the language of the unheard.” It is, as it is in Charlotte, as it was in Baltimore and Ferguson, an unfortunate response, but not unexpected, the inevitable result of a lit fuse.

As for waiting, King believed that a fool’s game. He said “it is an historical fact that “privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily,” and that calls for calm or patience often are no more than delaying tactics.

For years now I have heard the word “Wait!” It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This “Wait” has almost always meant “Never.” We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that “justice too long delayed is justice denied.”

Patience, in the end, is not a virtue, at least not for those who feel as if they live in society’s crosshairs. Patience, for those caught in the sites, can mean death.