Let’s get started…2015, boots on the ground for ALL working people

Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number -
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you -
Ye are many - they are few.'   --Percy Bysshe Shelley

We are an unhappy and divided lot, the once-mighty United Auto Workers. We have left the table, squabbling and arguing over whose lot is worse, who got screwed the worst. And THIS is inevitable result of a two-tier anything. A two-tier union, a two-tier family, anything. One of the slickest things about capitalism is that it thrives on division with small treats distracting from larger rewards. If people are starving, throwing crumbs distracts them from the big-ass pie from which the crumbs originate. It’s the same idea that women have when they get mugged for their purses: Throw the purse in one direction and run like hell in the other.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the only weapon we have is education. Last night, in my plant, the bosses called a meeting of all the Team Leaders and kept them in the office for a good while. No one knew why, or what was going on. That is the Chrysler way: Keep everyone in the dark and feed them shit. After a while (and one or two line stops), the Team Leaders all came out, and told everyone there was cake in the conference room. Apparently, we ran a perfect build for one shift last week. I guess that means that we ran well enough, from one end of the factory to the other, that the maximum output of cars was achieved. It’s never happened at a plant like ours, and it was only the 4th time in Chrysler history. So we got cake. I can’t imagine what the management got: They had a perfect build just two days after eliminating two jobs from the body shop! I asked the center manager what his bonus was, but he insisted it was just the cake. I’m sure. Anyway, we only worked 8 hrs last night, when everyone usually expects to work 9 or 10; we all need the overtime. We figured that $60-$100 they saved by running a regular shift was to pay for the cake.

But the question that I didn’t hear nearly enough was: What do the managers get when we run a perfect build? What do the managers get when they trim jobs? What kind of “quality” or “performance” bonuses do they get, relative to whatever we get? After all, even though they’re supposed to be the brains of the operation, if there aren’t enough of us peons, they can’t run the line. We saw that last week. Literally, they ran such a thin margin on the manpower that they couldn’t start the line for 15 minutes into the shift.

It might not sound like much, but the assembly line doesn’t play. An oft-quoted line from the bosses is that every minute the line is down costs the company something like $10,000 or so. That’s a lot of leverage, isn’t it? And we have people who are willing to work through their breaks for a paid lunch…for a tier-two worker, that’s about $7.50. In order to keep the line running after break. So we’re selling off $10,000 worth of leverage for less than 40 bucks a week? Damn. Things really are tough all over. But I have hope…it’s been bad before, it’ll be worse again. The only thing we can do is fight, fight, fight like hell. And so we shall.

 

One more day to wait

The last of the locals vote today. Then we’ll find out the next step. There is no more bargaining table, they burned it up for firewood. Our backs are against the wall. But that’s not always bad news. That means that we have nowhere to go but forward. I hope, anyway. That’s all for today. More after the final ratification results. In the meantime, here’s a reminder of the federal government’s involvement in labor disputes. From the only president who was ever a union member.

Talkin’ Union…”What I mean is, take it easy, but take it.”

I think we’re in a real moment of possibility here. I have to think so. I know that things look bad for us, that we’re in a position of vulnerability and division. But it won’t always be like this. We have to just take the moment we’re in and see it for what it is: fucked. But it’s also just one moment in history. There were times when things were even worse and we didn’t have the luxury of mass, instantaneous communication or an historical legacy of struggle. Things are bad for everyone. We don’t get any sympathy from any arbitrator, or legislator or any other kind of -ator. We have very few options right now. But as the old heads have mentioned to me, he who runs away, lives to fight another day. I hate that, but it’s got its practical applications. So for now, pretend like it’s 1935 and we’re getting ready for a four-year-long drive of education and solidarity building. There are so many of us down here on the bottom, and so many more coming in, that it is time for all hands on deck. Education, solidarity, bridge-building. I can not overstate the importance of these things right now. Pretend like it’s the 1930s…the bosses act like it is, we should be responding with similar. We know we can’t get any more now than what we’re getting, but we should also keep in mind that it doesn’t mean that we have to volunteer to give anything else up. We want: libraries, resources, information, representation. We have these rights, we demand these things. Because the next four years are going to be fought in the trenches. We need to arm ourselves accordingly. If the weapons used against the working class are fear, misinformation and intimidation, then we must counter with boldness, truth and solidarity. This isn’t the end of any fight, but the beginning of one. So like my man Pete Seeger said in the song, “Take it easy. But take it.”

In Solidarity,

Stepchild in the Promised Land

 

Waiting for Mr. Goodbar

Finally got a tentative agreement. If it goes to arbitration, we don’t know what we’ll get. Maybe even less than what we think we’ll get with the contract. I’m gonna have to sit with this for a while. I have a union meeting this weekend, and intend to ask plenty of questions. Chrysler folks, if you’re out there reading this, please weigh in. We need solidarity and conversation now more than ever.

In Solidarity,

Stepchild in the Promised Land

A deep breath…and maybe some dancing?

There is so much to be angry about. The media blackout of the Wall Street protests,budget cuts, war, poverty, the systematic dismantling of any worker protection…the list goes on. I found myself getting carried away; just so angry. But as I wrote to a friend telling him to bring his kids to Occupy Detroit, it struck an old, hidden chord. The most important reason to fight and fight and fight until our last breath is because we have kids, or younger siblings, or the idea of youth. I remembered the demonstrations and protests that I had attended as a child with my mother and the thing that I can remember the best, the clearest is the sense of joy. The deep and abiding sense of joy, pride and comraderie in a shared struggle. My favorite thing about getting to talk to all these Autoworker Caravan retirees is the sense of knowing that they’re on the right side of history, even if it’s not the winning side. It’s a very particular sense of joy that comes from knowing that your fight is the fight of everyone, that your fight (even if it feels like you’re not winning it) is the fight that will do the most good for the most people. It’s thrilling and so uplifting to know that all those people on Wall Street are there not just because they got parking tickets or something, but because people are starting to put together that our struggle is big. And that our humanity is big. And because of that, our power is big.  Remember, all of this outrage is because all we really want is a better life, a fair shake. That, for me, at least comes from a desire for more happiness, more purpose, more joy.

Wall Street Occupied

Wall Street Occupied

Shining a light today to the Wall Street Occupied movement. Hardly a mention on the regular news, and when it is, people are dismissed as rabblerousers or thugs. They’re not; there is nothing thuggish about standing up when it becomes clear that silence is no longer an option. WE MUST NOT CONCEDE. Not to banks, not to the police (who are working-class stiffs like us, if only they’d remember it), or anyone else who tells us that the rich matter more than the poor. Not to CEOs like Sergio “Punk MF” Marchionne, who would have us work until we drop, and thank him for the favor. I read that in Italy, Fiat workers managed to concede their lunch breaks, all breaks and money. They agreed to postpone their lunches until the end of the shift. Six days a week, they do this. I wish I was kidding. You can’t make this shit up, it’s too outrageous. It’s time to be angry. No more “yassir, Boss.” Not one more inch should we concede. Until the bankers and CEOs are trying to feed their families on $14 and take their kids to the doctors on that same pot of money than there should be No. More. Concessions. We work our asses off. WE fund the fucking wars, the roads and the goddamned bank bailouts. WE WORK. We deserve fair compensation and we demand respect. No more asking for crumbs. It’s time to claim what we have made, and what our parents and grandparents and great-grandparents made possible. It’s time to reclaim the goddamned Promised Land.