Detroit Fiat Chrysler autoworkers defend Julian Assange and Chelsea Manning
“We’re all in this together. That is how I see it.”
By a WSWS reporting team
20 April 2019
[dropcap]O[/dropcap]n Thursday a World Socialist Web Site Autoworker Newsletter campaign team spoke to workers at the Fiat Chrysler Warren Stamping plant, just outside of Detroit, about the arrest and imprisonment of Wikileaks journalist Julian Assange and whistleblower Chelsea Manning.
Assange and Manning have been persecuted by the US and other governments since they released evidence of US war crimes to a global audience in 2010. Last week, Assange was arrested and imprisoned in London, the latest maneuver in a plan to rendition him to the United States to face possible espionage charges carrying a potential death penalty.
WSWS campaign team members distributed copies of the Autoworker Newsletter containing a statement by the Steering Committee of the Coalition of Rank-and-File Committees calling on all workers to fight for the defense of Assange and Manning.
As workers came on and off their shifts many recognized Julian Assange’s face on the team’s signboard and shouted their support. Among those who knew of Assange, “hero” was the expression they used most often to describe him.
Hiram, a veteran worker, said, “They need to leave him alone. Let’s face the facts; these governments are doing dirt, and they need to be exposed. I saw the video [of Assange’s arrest]. Terrible! What they are doing to one, they will do to us all. Therefore, we’re all in this together. That is how I see it.”
A number of workers told the WSWS that they had not heard about the case. Dachanea, a young worker with five years at Chrysler, was shocked to learn about the imprisonment and abuse of Assange and Manning, both of whom have been held in solitary confinement under conditions that the UN has called tantamount to torture. “I’m speechless about what they’re going through. I think it’s powerful that they are speaking out. But the world is going to help them, because the world is against the government as well.
“We all need to speak up and do something. The more the better. They can’t stop us all.”
Workers saw the connection between the attack on democratic rights and the attempt to silence and intimidate them in the workplace. Many were eager to tell about the terrible conditions that they face. Under a series of sellout contracts forced through with the connivance of the United Auto Workers, young workers have been stripped of most rights. Hundreds of temporary part-time workers at the plant work for substandard pay, without regular shifts, benefits or contract rights, but still must pay dues to the UAW.
WSWS campaign team members reminded workers that in 2015 the UAW slandered the Autoworker Newsletter as “fake news” because it reported truthfully the details of the sellout agreement that the union was trying to force through.
One worker said, “They took away our pensions, so we don’t get to retire like people used to. We make half the wages that the older workers make. And the union doesn’t fight for us, either."
“The more work we do, the more money they make, but they treat us like we don’t do anything for them.”
In the ongoing federal corruption investigation into UAW finances, union officials, including former vice president for Fiat Chrysler Norwood Jewell, have pleaded guilty to taking millions of dollars in bribes from management to sign sweetheart contracts stripping workers of fundamental rights and benefits.
One veteran worker stopped to make a donation to the WSWS AutoworkerNewsletter, expressing her solidarity with Asssange and Manning. Expressing her utter disgust with the UAW she remarked, “I would rather work at Walmart than have to face the crap that I go through every day at this plant.”
Hiram said that he felt that the fight to defend Assange and Manning required a struggle against the entire political setup in the United States. “As far as Democrat and Republican, I believe they all sleep in the same bed together. And behind the scenes there are people with huge money, money we can’t even image, who are really calling the shots.”
“Working people need to support Assange. They’re aiming at us. And the goal is to keep us divided.”
Hiram said he would like to give the following message to Assange and Manning: “Don’t give up! Because we must—we MUST!—expose corruption, in the government, the corporations, and in the unions.”
Leonard, a veteran worker with over 20 years at the nearby Warren Truck, plant said that the defense of Assange was bound up with the defense of the basic democratic rights of working people. “The government wants to keep us in the dark. If we know the truth than we will ask questions and they don’t want that.
“Workers have to watch what we say on Facebook because we are told we can’t ‘defame’ the company, no matter how bad the conditions are. We have to defend freedom of speech; that’s why I’m against the jailing of Assange.”
Another worker at the Warren Stamping plant added, “Assange is a hero. It’s the government who are criminals. War makes money. The five-star generals got up in Congress and said that the government wasn’t spying on the American people. Why aren’t they being charged?”
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License
Revolutionary wisdom
Words from an Irish patriot—
|
// =By= Andy Piascik Republished with the permission of the Bridgeport History Center, Bridgeport Public Library [dropcap]I[/dropcap]t was an event that lasted less than a day and involved only 50 people directly. It was organized, led and carried out by everyday workers and thus contradicted the mainstream narrative that only big people make history. Many of the participants were women so their actions were thus further dismissed, even ridiculed. Yet as the great historian Howard Zinn might have put it, mostly unknown and forgotten people occupied the Casco factory in Bridgeport in 1937 and struck a blow for themselves and workers in the city as a whole. In the long history of class conflict in the United States, the decade of the 1930’s was a particularly contentious period. In Bridgeport, as in virtually every other part of the country, workers fought back against plant closures, unemployment and poverty as well as for democratization of the workplace. And as the Park City was one of the nation’s great industrial hubs, it was only natural that the sit-down strike was one of many tactics Bridgeport workers utilized. The sit-down strike is a tactic used most effectively by the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) three decades before the action at Casco. The idea of a sit-down is to stop production by occupying the workplace, rather than by withdrawing from it, as leaving the workplace and striking from the outside leaves open the possibility of employers bringing in replacements (scabs). The sit-down was revived to great fanfare and with remarkable success when autoworkers began a long occupation of General Motors plants in Cleveland and Flint on December 30, 1936. Set on Bridgeport’s West End next to the railroad tracks, Casco (Connecticut Automotive Specialty Company) opened in 1924. Workers there made products for cars including pop-out cigarette lighters that were then a relatively new feature on many automobile dashboards. Tensions between workers and management had been escalating for some time prior to the sit-down strike. Management was actively soliciting workers to join its company union, the Casco Employees Association (CEA), while at least several hundred workers had signed cards with the United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers of America (UE), one of the rapidly growing affiliates of the newly-formed Congress of Industrial Organizations (CIO). Alarmed at the growth in the plant of the UE, and in an apparent attempt to cripple the workers’ organizing efforts, Casco President Joseph Cohen issued an order the morning of April 6, 1937 that the plant would temporarily close at noon that day for inventory. Caught off guard, 850 of the 900 workers left at noon including many who undoubtedly would have remained had they known that 50 of their co-workers had decided to occupy the plant. The 50 sit-down strikers announced that they intended to remain until a set of demands that included management recognition of the UE as their bargaining representative were met. Supportive workers who had left formed picket lines outside the plant on Railroad and Hancock Avenues, sent word of the action to the families of those inside and contacted organizers from the UE. Cohen and other company officials responded by declaring that the factory was closed and would not reopen until their demands were met. They also announced hundreds of layoffs. While refusing to accept that reductions were necessary, the workers and the UE immediately countered with a plan to prevent any layoffs by temporarily reducing the hours of all. Cohen unconditionally rejected the proposal, saying, as quoted in a story in the Bridgeport Post, “Positively no. I’ll run my own plant.” Cohen’s words cut to the heart of what was at stake. At Casco, as elsewhere, the sit-down strike was a direct challenge to management’s control of production. A plant occupation starkly poses the question, a question workers in many places in 1937 had begun to seriously consider, of whether owners and managers are necessary or even desirable. Cohen’s unease was the unease that haunts all business owners, whether of small-ish operations like Casco or of the massive empire of General Motors: that through collective action, and especially workplace occupations, workers would come to envision and, more importantly, act on constructing a society without bosses. Meetings of the parties carried into the evening. On Railroad Avenue, meanwhile, Casco workers and others continued picketing in support of the strike. In anticipation of a potentially lengthy standoff, they also tied mattresses and food to ropes that the occupiers pulled up through open windows. A photographer from the Bridgeport Post and Bridgeport Telegram was allowed inside and took two photos that appeared in both papers the following day. Early on the morning of April 7th, an agreement was reached. A significant wage increase would be implemented and management agreed to recognize the UE (soon to be a major force in Bridgeport as the representative of workers at GE, Westinghouse/Bryant Electric and many other city shops). All talk of layoffs ceased, the occupiers would not be disciplined and the plant would remain closed while management took stock and made way for new production lines. On virtually every count, it was a resounding victory for the workers. As in Flint and many other instances, the Casco workers utilized collective action to make significant gains. That should be celebrated all these years later as much as the Casco workers themselves undoubtedly celebrated in the days after the occupation. Still, there are also nagging questions that began to present themselves in 1937 that plague workers to this day. Wittingly or not, for example, organizers from even radical unions like the UE helped pull workers away from the very awareness and possible action owners like Cohen feared. The objectives of the UE and the CIO as a whole were state-sanctioned exclusive representation as embodied in the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA), class peace and collective bargaining agreements predicated on the corporation’s right to rule. Strikers taking over plants was fine as a temporary tactic but long term, labor’s vision and its relationship with workers was ultimately not so different from that of the business class, as became more apparent over time. Not long after the Casco strike, for example, the UE and other CIO unions signed contracts that almost without exception forbade work stoppages that they did not authorize. Also included in the standard CIO contracts were management prerogative clauses that ceded all decisions about production, including the right to permanently close the plant, to the company. That does not diminish what the Casco workers accomplished in 1937. On the contrary, it is in their spirit that we struggle for a way out of a framework that workers today are trapped in. Note to Commenters We apologize for this inconvenience. Nauseated by the BY LOUIS PROYECT | March 16, 2011 BACK IN THE LATE 70s, the Socialist Workers Party in the United States began a “turn to industry” that identified a number of sectors to be “colonized”. At one time or another, this included steel, rail, auto, coal, meatpacking, and garment. It pressured “petty bourgeois” elements like me to “make the turn” in order to save my soul. Despite all the usually overblown projections about what could be done in a given factory, the real goal was to “proletarianize” the membership and protect the revolutionary party against ideological deviations. Party leader Jack Barnes referred to those who questioned the turn as “Marielitos”. Of course, the entire basis of colonizing (love that word—what an unconscious adaptation to alien class influences) steel and all the rest was a schematic expectation that a new working-class radicalization would be a repeat of the 1930s. The SWP brass, particularly Farrell Dobbs who was an important leader of the Teamsters Union in the late 1930s, assumed that the blue collar workers in the UAW, USW et al would become the vanguard of resistance to attacks on labor. Surprise, surprise. The crucible of struggle has been in exactly those trade unions that were dismissed as “petty bourgeois” by the SWP leaders, testifying once again to the folly of looking at the class struggle through the lenses of the past. In particular, the public school teachers of the U.S. have become targeted especially by both the Republican ultraright and their pals in the Obama administration with their devotion to charter schools. If you were expecting a repeat of Flint 1938, naturally you would miss a Madison 2011 with schoolteachers on the front lines. Here are some recent dispatches from the public schools battleground. The most egregious case of teacher hatred can be found in New Jersey with Republican Governor Chris Christie earning a love poem from the execrable Matt Bai in the February 27th NY Times Magazine section. Bai, an Obama supporter of the highest magnitude, has apparently found a new best friend. He told his readers: And so, when the union draws a hard line against changes to its pay and benefit structure, you can see why it might strike some sizable segment of voters as being a little anachronistic, like mimeographing homework assignments or sharpening a pencil by hand. In a Pew Research Center poll this month, 47 percent of respondents said their states should cut pension plans for government employees, which made it the most popular option on the table. The Times followed up this labor-hating item on March 9th with special pleading on behalf of the lily-white hedge fund managers in Bronxville who were trying to find ways to kick the teachers in the teeth. Titled Even a Wealthy Suburb Faces Pressure to Curb School Taxes, we encounter a truly odious fellow named Peter P. Pulkkinen, a 40-year-old investment banker with children in the first and third grades. In order to cut costs, he would “attack ‘structural’ expenses like tenure, the accumulation of unused sick days and the rising amount the school board pays for pensions and health insurance.” But the main weapon has been the charter schools, a type of institution that draws from both public funding and donations from multimillionaires who see this non-union bastion as a market-based solution for a deeply entrenched social problem. Last Sunday night, “Sixty Minutes”, a kind of harbinger for informed liberal opinion in the U.S., featured an episode on one charter school in New York titled Katie Couric on paying teachers $125,000 a year. The emphasis in charter schools is to reward good teachers and to fire bad ones, just as is the case supposedly in the private sector. The charter school under examination in this episode is named appropriately enough as The Equity Project (TEP). It was launched by a former teacher named Zeke Vanderhoek who is a Yale graduate—no surprise there. The school has a 3-member board of trustees, one of who is Peter Cove who is described as “one of the nation’s leading advocates for private solutions to welfare dependency, ex-offender reentry initiatives and for meeting the needs of underserved, marginalized populations.” Cove is also CEO of America Works in 1984, a corporation seeking to “link private-sector investment and employment with welfare reform.” (For a thorough debunking of Zeke Vanderhoek’s project, read this: http://normsnotes2.blogspot.com/2011/03/relentless-self-promotion-of-zeke.html.) In order to launch TEP, Vanderhoek drew upon funds he had accumulated from a company he started called Manhattan GMAT that provided instructions in how to pass a standardized test that will get you into business school. This makes perfect sense in a way since Mayor Bloomberg has become associated with the need for standardized testing, another specious way to improve primary schools that goes hand-in-hand with union-busting. All you ever need to know about standardized testing can be found in a Monthly Review article by Dan DiMaggio, who put some time in at a place similar to Manhattan GMAT. This is what he observed: Test scoring is a huge business, dominated by a few multinational corporations, which arrange the work in order to extract maximum profit. I was shocked when I found out that Pearson, the first company I worked for, also owned the Financial Times, The Economist, Penguin Books, and leading textbook publisher Prentice Hall. The CEO of Pearson, Marjorie Scardino, ranked seventeenth on the Forbes list of the one hundred most powerful women in the world in 2007. Test-scoring companies make their money by hiring a temporary workforce each spring, people willing to work for low wages (generally $11 to $13 an hour), no benefits, and no hope of long-term employment—not exactly the most attractive conditions for trained and licensed educators. So all it takes to become a test scorer is a bachelor’s degree, a lack of a steady job, and a willingness to throw independent thinking out the window and follow the absurd and ever-changing guidelines set by the test-scoring companies. Some of us scorers are retired teachers, but most are former office workers, former security guards, or former holders of any of the diverse array of jobs previously done by the currently unemployed. When I began working in test scoring three years ago, my first “team leader” was qualified to supervise, not because of his credentials in the field of education, but because he had been a low-level manager at a local Target. In other words, just as we are dealing with all along the line, is an attempt to cut labor costs. This is what this is about. A god-damned rich bastard like Peter P. Pulkkinen refusing to pay $100 more per year in property taxes while he is making millions of dollars at Deutsche Bank. Or Michael Bloomberg, Chris Christie and Scott Walker trying to do to teachers what Reagan did to airline controllers. And all of it goes back to the 1930s when the auto companies were determined to make a profit over the maimed bodies of assembly line workers who could not even afford a modest bungalow. Returning to the Socialist Workers Party, that has always had a tendency—even when Leon Trotsky was advising it (maybe I should say because)—to demonize the “petty bourgeoisie”, even the auto workers were fair game at one point. In the 1950s, a group around Bert Cochran decided that a less sectarian approach was needed and split with the party in order to launch the Socialist Union. One of their activists was Sol Dollinger, who had been married to Genora Dollinger—the leader of the woman’s auxiliary in the great Flint sit-down strike. When the Cochranites left, the SWP leaders dubbed them as embourgeoisified workers who had gotten tainted by prosperity. Three decades later, I am amused by the explanations made by Frank Lovell [SWP trade union leader] that you heard as a new member of the SWP. He contended that the members of the auto faction had become embourgeoisified by high wages in the industry. My position as a Chevrolet worker is not much different than other autoworker members of the party. We rented in Flint and when I quit after seven years my wages were under five thousand dollars a year. When Genora’s father died of a heart attack in front of the Buick gate where he worked as a janitor, he left his four children $700 each. Genora rushed out to make a down payment on a house with a $3800 dollar mortgage with monthly payments of $35. At any rate, the goal is clear today. We have to everything in our power to make sure that the clock is not turned back to that time when auto workers did not have a pot to piss in. Thank goodness the school teachers, the librarians, and the social workers have the backbone to take on the bourgeoisie in the decisive early stages of the battle. ABOUT THE AUTHOR: LOUIS PROYECT, an independent leftist, blogs on politics with a sharp eye and a sharper tongue than most political observers around. His highly original essays can be found at The Unrepentant Marxist. |