OPINION: Bring Back Dynamite

by Kim Kelly

 
Pro-union supporters gathered at the James R. Thompson Center building in Chicago, IL Feb. 26, 2011 for a Solidarity Rally as a message to the State of Wisconsin lawmakers. Photo 18542325 © Rwmoulton

Pro-union supporters gathered at the James R. Thompson Center building in Chicago, IL Feb. 26, 2011 for a Solidarity Rally as a message to the State of Wisconsin lawmakers. Photo 18542325 © Rwmoulton

 
 

No one likes the feeling of walking into a room and feeling out of place. And when the room is full of people that are supposed to be your allies, it’s profoundly demoralizing. 

As an anarchist, I’m well aware that I’m part of a political minority in this country. That's not just true writ large, it’s true within the broader left, too. Knowing that, it’s never a surprise when I walk into a room and am immediately the most radical person there by default. My daily life and organizing work is populated by other anarchists, socialists, and communists as well as progressives and liberals (though I’m not entirely sure what the difference is there) and folks who haven’t settled on a specific tendency but are still on the side of liberation. Despite a firm commitment to militancy and community defense, in an explicitly anarchist context I’m actually pretty middle of the road, (and have even had my work criticized for “watering down” anarchism for wider consumption).

In my professional life as a labor reporter and an elected councilperson for a labor union, one would assume I’m surrounded by solidarity-minded lefties. I wish I could tell you that that was the case. I’m more than capable of playing nice with others—it’s a necessary quality in order to get anything done—and of locating the areas in which it’s worth compromising or backing down during a larger discussion. I am soft-spoken; I don’t seek out arguments, and would rather find consensus than bludgeon anyone into seeing things my way. So it catches me off-guard sometimes when I’m called upon to speak to a room full of longtime labor organizers and trade unionists, and be regarded as some unholy hellspawn of Karl Marx and The Wicked Witch of the East the moment I open my mouth. 

The insult on its own would be tolerable. But to have ideas either ignored or treated as a destabilizing nuisance because they are seen as too radical or “out there” or something that would frighten off the union’s membership is where the real injury lies. If I were strolling into a conference room full of #StillWithHer Democratic boosters, I would expect to be shooed right back out as the bad influence that I absolutely am. Given the decades-long crossover episode between organized labor and the Democratic Party, this is probably more likely a scenario than not.

But it shouldn’t be. Easing into the kind of milquetoast centrism that runs rampant throughout the upper echelons of power in this movement does a disservice to our shared history, and it’s a black mark against the potential for labor’s future. So many have forgotten how the house of labor was built with gunpowder and dynamite, its foundations soaked through with the blood of radicals who gave their lives for the sake of their class. Anarchism and labor have gone hand and hand since the 19th century, but now, in 2020, even a whiff of mere democratic socialism has proven to be too strong for so many leaders in our midst, let alone the bomb-throwing rhetoric of old. 

The issue is with the sector of organized labor that some refer to as “business unions”—labor unions and craft guilds who seem to have missed the memo about solidarity, and exist separately from or even in opposition to the revolutionary unionism practiced by the Industrial Workers of the World (IWW) of which I am also a member I joined the IWW because of its history and politics; I joined the Writers Guild of America, East because their wonderful organizers helped us unionize my former workplace and fought like hell to get us the contract we wanted and had our backs when the bosses broke out their knives. I’m proud to be a part of both, but it’s my involvement with the latter that jump-started my labor education and opened my eyes to both the good and bad in the movement. 

The small dramas that have played out in front of my eyes in meeting rooms, at conferences, in private conversations, and on Zoom over the past few years as well as countless conversations with union staffers, elected leaders, organizers, labor reporters, and other union members have hammered home that the labor movement is deeply divided.Labor’s schism is generational as well as built on race, gender, identity, class, privilege, and economic circumstance. Obviously, this is not a novel conclusion or any sort of surprise; the same issues have been embedded in this movement since its inception. Looking back at labor’s history of racism, sexism, homophobia, and xenophobia, it would be foolish to say that things are worse now than ever before. 

But even though they aren’t as bad as they once were, we’re now at a tipping point on a great many issues pertinent to labor and the working class. In my estimation as a labor reporter, a trade unionist, and, yes, a pain-in-the-ass anarchist, far too few labor leaders have shown themselves to be up to the task—and even fewer are interested in hearing what younger, more diverse voices have to say about it. 

Just because the top brass have forgotten that history doesn’t mean that the rank and file and other union leaders need to mirror their failings. Demanding the impossible may not appeal to everyone, but at the very least, asking for more than what we’re offered should come naturally to every union person. We’re being offered so little—committee-tested resolutions, hints at reform, gestures towards pushing for small changes, the illusion of proximity to power—and the leadership (and their political allies) who benefit  from even these tepid measures are not interested in listening to demands for more. 

It’s time to bring back dynamite—if not literally, then in the very least metaphorically, by harnessing the mass worker power of this movement and forcing the change that our leaders are loath to even politely consider. If our leaders aren’t up to the level of organizing and outreach and political education that this moment demands, we need new leaders. The movement can’t go on like this. It has already been beaten down to hell, and needs the next generation to keep it alive—so why do so few top leaders want to listen to us? 

I recognize the irony of an anarchist calling upon anyone to run for office, but as a trade unionist, humor me: if you are a union member fed up with the current state of things and want to fight for your fellow workers, run for your local council, and get all your friends to do the same. If the current institutions are failing us, we need to organize outside of them and around them as well as clawing our way inside. Traditional labor unions are only one way for workers to organize, and current labor laws have made it so difficult to join one in the first place that alternatives are already necessary. Not every union member is a leftist, or even a liberal, and that isn’t going to change, but activating those who are—and those who are open to hearing new viewpoints—is imperative. Now that the election is over, that massive wave of energy from get-out-the-vote efforts can and should be redirected into new organizing projects, mutual aid, education, and direct action. Joe Biden will not save us (and neither will shoehorning various union presidents into his cabinet) but we already have the tools to save ourselves.

There are some truly inspiring and progressive labor leaders currently holding the national spotlight and making waves locally. There aren’t enough of them, though, and every reactionary or spineless liberal in their position is one more albatross hanging around labor’s already weakened neck. Too many leaders have forgotten the maxim that “an injury to one is an injury to all,” and something’s got to give. 

Calls to expel police and other propagators of state violence from the AFL-CIO fall upon deaf ears as more Black and brown working class lives are extinguished. Union brass still can’t agree on a robust and transformative collective response to the climate crisis as the world burns around us. Our dues are used to grease the gears of the Democratic Party machine that only cares about the “union vote” instead of union members. “Male, stale, and pale” leadership continues to ignore the needs and demands of the far more diverse rank and file. Union members are called up to work on environmentally or culturally devastating projects, workers without documentation are left in the cold, workers whose labor is criminalized or who are forced to labor inside the prison walls are forgotten and ignored, corporations are allowed to write their own labor laws while independent contractors continue to lose out, and grassroots calls to give serious thought to a general strike are brushed under the rug in favor of staid press releases about “peaceful protests.”

With this litany of problems and failures, it begs the question of our labor leaders: which side are you on, really?

 
 

Kim Kelly is a freelance writer and a labor columnist for Teen Vogue and The Baffler. You can follow her on Twitter at @GrimKim.


 
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