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| Volume51, Number 4 |
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Harry Magdoff and John Bellamy Foster |
| September 1999 |
Powerful
Compassion: The Strike |
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It is worth the trip to Syracuse University just to see Ben Shahn's sixty-by-twelve-foot outdoor mural, The Passion of Sacco and Vanzetti. Unveiled in 1967, the mosaic tile mural tells the story of Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti, executed in 1927 for a crime which they probably did not commit. Witnesses placed them miles from the crime scene when the murder of a paymaster occurred at a shoe factory in Braintree, Massachusetts. After fleeing to Mexico in 1917 to avoid the draft, both Italian immigrants returned to the United States at the end of the First World War. At the time of their arrest in 1920, Sacco and Vanzetti were under surveillance for their involvement in strike activities, and their radical beliefs were used against them during their trial. Despite demonstrations and petition-signings in many countries, Alvin Fuller, the Governor of Massachusetts, sent Sacco and Vanzetti to the electric chair, based on the findings of a commission that included the presidents of Harvard and MIT.1 Shahn's mural consists of three connected panels. In the first, a group of protesters symbolize the tumult that both led to and followed the arrest of Sacco and Vanzetti. In the second, Sacco and Vanzetti, handcuffed to one another, tower in symbolic representation of their moral stature. Their shadows slant accusingly towards a courthouse. Standing behind them, a diminutive Governor Fuller, casting no shadow, reads his verdict. In the third, members of the committee, in top hats and academic garb, hold flowers over coffins containing the bodies of Sacco and Vanzetti. Shahn wanted to create, as he put it, works of art in which powerful compassion is innate, or which ... will serve ultimately to dignify that society in which it exists.2 On either side of Shahn's mural are famous words from a Vanzetti letter which conform more to the grammar of the heart than of the schoolmaster. If it had not been for these thing, I might have live out my life talking at street corners to scorning men, wrote Vanzetti to his son from prison, I might have die, unmarked, unknown, a failure. Now we are not a failure. Never in our full life could we hope to do such work for tolerance, for joostice, for man's onderstanding of man as now we do by accident. Our wordsour lives!our pains nothing! The take of our liveslives of a good shoemaker and a poor fish peddlerall! That last moment belongs to usthat agony is our triumph. The powerful compassion emanating from Shahn's mural could serve equally to define the SU experience in the aftermath of the unusual September 1998 strike. In the belief that current labor unrest and the erosion of the humanities at universities spring from a common cause, I visited SU for five days in September in order to research the strike and its origins. During the summer prior to the strike, 750 unionized dining service workers, groundskeepers, janitors, and library employees at SU had found themselves without a contract. Negotiations between the SU administration and the union, Service Employees International Union (SEIU) Local 200A, had foundered over the abuse of temporary workers, pay equity for library workers, the use of unskilled labor, and above all, subcontracting. Claiming that modern institutions need flexibility, the administration had demanded the right to subcontract any department with less than twenty-five employeesin effect, virtually all SU dining halls and residencesin return for higher wage increases. It claimed, furthermore, that no union employees had lost their jobs as a result of subcontracting. The union disagreed, maintaining that one hundred union jobs had been lost to subcontracting within the last seven years. Over the summer, SU Chancellor Kenneth Shaw told a group of concerned professors that while outsourcing was undesirable, SU did not want a contract that restricted it. According to physics professor Rafael Sorkin, who attended the meeting, the administration wanted the flexibility to do the things they didn't want to do because they might want to do them at some point. Another concern was the abuse of temporary workers who were contractually permitted to work a maximum of twenty hours a week for eighty days at a single job. The workers were being shuttled between short-term jobs at different dining centers to get around the contractual limitation. The union also wanted to halt the substitution of unskilled for skilled labor, which threatened the status and safety of workers. Union representative Coert Bonthius maintained that an unskilled maintenance worker who tried to fix a boiler was almost killed when it blew up. The incident recalls the era of James Roscoe Day, SU chancellor from 1894 to 1922. Upton Sinclair, in The Goose-Step (a 1923 romp through the nightmare of higher education) described him this way: The chancellor even carries his hatred of labor unions to the point of crippling the university. Workingmen have been changed two or three times in one week; the chancellor set the maximum price that a workingmen is worth at twenty-eight cents an hour, and as a result, the boilers of the heating plant were ruined, and the cost was four thousand dollars.3 Additionally, the union proposed to increase the low pay of library workers in order to attain gender equity. SU ranked ninety-fifth out of 109 university libraries surveyed by the Association of Research Libraries in 1996-1997 for average salary of professional library staff. Women held 70 percent of library jobs at SU, but received 20 to 25 percent less pay than men in comparable jobs.4 One serials cataloguer, who had worked at SU for twenty-three years, was making around twenty thousand dollars a year. In his June 1997 annual report, Head Librarian David Stam called for higher salaries for library workers, noting that for some it is less than a living wage ... and is a particularly demoralizing factor when combined with higher expectations of productivity, more work with fewer people, and often the requirement to attain new technological skills within the old classification framework.5 On July 28, against the wishes of a federal mediator, SU negotiators presented a final offer (which would have strengthened the administration's ability to outsource SU jobs) to the union. On August 16, union members voted, for the first time in twenty-four years, to strike. After the vote, Shaw refused to meet again with the faculty he had seen earlier that summer. Sensing the distance between SU's rhetoric and reality, some professors urged Shaw to negotiate in good faith with the union. As a teacher who ponders a great deal over the implicit social values I am responsible for communicating to my students, I cannot take lightly the situation in which I am asked to convey the university's self-proclaimed values of mutual respect, fairness, and equity in a context where these basic principles are not honored by the university itself in its dealings with all its members, wrote English professor Gregg Lambert to Shaw. Ironically, in late July, weeks after the expiration of the contract, SU completed its four million dollar purchase of the Marshall Square Mall, a commercial retail establishment near the university. A SU public relations official described the investment as a real good opportunity to invest in the community and university. Students were concerned that the acquisition of the mall, which contains the only local competitor to SU's bookstore, might make them captive consumers.6 Employees wondered why SU had money to acquire real estate but not to pay them a living wage. Shortly before the strike, a memo which apparently originated in the office of the director of student activities stated that union representatives were not allowed to distribute information on campus and that students could not do so as individuals, but only through recognized student organizations that supported the union as a whole. The memo reminded graduate students that they held teaching assistantships and fellowships as university beneficiaries. Some wags noted that SU, which prided itself on being the number one student-centered university, had become the number one student- censored university. The SU administration later issued a clarification stating that the memo had been based on the second-hand report of a conversation. Free speech, however, would remain an issue during the strike. As classes began at SU, about 630 physical plant, food service and library workers formed picket lines at fifteen locations on campus. Only 10 to 15 percent of union employees reported for work. Some professors decided not to cross the picket lines and held classes instead at churches, a performing arts center, the Westcott cinema, or at home. The administration brought in temporary workers to replace the strikers. Recruiters set up booths in student dormitories. Need a job?, inquired an advertisement for dining services in the Daily Orange.7 The administration maintained that students were being hired not as replacement workers, but for the College Work Study Program.8 On September 1, fifty faculty members organized a picket line and held a press conference in front of Bird Library. When Public Safety informed them that they could not hold strike signs on campus, the professors sat down for an hour and a half, courting arrest.9 At a forum that evening, student dissatisfaction grew when Neil Strodel, SU's associate vice president for human resources, dodged questions about SU policy on free speech and the recent purchase of the Marshall Square Mall.10 The next day, three hundred students, including members of the Cornell Organization for Labor Action, gathered for a teach-in on the quad where they heard poems, speeches, and live music. That day, one thousand people marched in protest to the residence of Chancellor Shaw. Students demonstrated the following afternoon in front of the administration building, chanting for Shaw to be hired part-time. Approximately a dozen students broke off from the main group and blockaded the building's two entrances by lying or sitting in front of them until closing time. With momentum building, 96 percent of the employees voted to continue the strike. As news of the strike spread, parents logged on to SU's Q & A Strike Information For Parents webpage which reassured them that this union did not have a propensity toward violence. The administration's stance toward the union recalled Chancellor Day's iron hand. The strike is a conspiracy and nothing less, thundered Day in his 1920 classic of oligarchic kitsch, My Neighbor The Working Man. We deal promptly and effectively with conspiracies against property and persons in other matters. What delusion has closed our eyes to the true character of the labor strike which is one of the most glaring forms of conspiracy the world has known?11 Day goes on to explain, in his hymn to big business, how disorder is inherent in strikes: The character of a strike is seen in destruction of property, assaults and murders. The call for soldiers and an extra police guard tells the story. The strike stands for everything which America opposes. It is violence. It is riot. It opposes liberty. It is dangerous to life by exciting men to unrestrained and dangerous passions.12 While passions were high during the 1998 SU strike, only one minor strike-related injury occurred, as a supervisor hit an employee while driving through a picket line at high speed. The administration accused union officers of acting against the interests of SU employees. It is important to note that none of the University's offers have been voted on by the union membership, wrote Shaw in an August 28 message to the SU community. Paid agents of SEIU and designated union officers have consistently refused to allow the membership to ratify or reject the proposed contract. In response, the parent of a SU student wrote to Shaw: I assume that by `designated union officers' you mean `elected union officers.' Why not say so and admit that the SEIU has a democratic structure. Unions are generally more democratic than universities. When was the last time that the workers, students and faculty got to elect you or the governing board. Union members found Shaw's accusation ludicrous, since three of them had been elected to serve on the bargaining committee along with the union officers. Vanessa Dismuke, union steward for the library workers, said that the members had asked the bargaining committee not to bring back an unacceptable offer. After a week-long strike, union members overwhelmingly ratified a new contract granting significant wage increases for library workers and modest increases for other union workers. It included protections against subcontracting and limited temporary workers to twenty hours a week and one thousand hours a year. Both sides pledged not to take reprisals. The union agreed not to fine those who crossed the picket line while the administration agreed not to withhold tuition benefits from strikers. Some workers complained, nonetheless, that they were not being allowed to take breaks. Joan Hart, a picket captain, was written up three times within three days and demoted a pay grade for, among other things, wearing a union cap to work. SU's Office of Human Resources investigated the allegations of reprisals, and determined that supervisors had simply taken routine disciplinary actions.13 In his September 23, 1998, address to the faculty, Shaw asked professors who had refused to cross the picket lines to voluntarily inform their deans of the time missed so that their paychecks can be adjusted accordingly, and reassured them that he was motivated not by a desire to punish, but to ensure that the lesson of civil disobedience is not lost on our students. That lesson, according to Shaw, was that passionately held beliefs are worth sacrifice. NOTES
ALI SHEHZAD ZAIDI writes on higher education in New York. | Top | |