Friday, December 26, 2025

A MOVEMENT-BUILDING STRATEGY FOR ALL WORKERS

A MOVEMENT-BUILDING STRATEGY FOR ALL WORKERS
By David Bacon and Peter Olney
The Nation, 12/26/25

https://www.thenation.com/article/politics/mamdani-workers-labor-immigrants/ 



PETALUMA, CA - Farmworkers, domestic workers and their supporters marched to call for passage of the Registry Bill, which would allow undocumented people to gain legal immigration status.  Beside the banner was Alfredo (Lelo) Juarez, a farmworker organizer from Washington State, who was later detained by immigration agents and imprisoned in the notorious Tacoma Detention Center.


 
The night Zohran Mamdani was elected mayor of New York City he called his triumph "the victory of the Bangladeshi aunty who knocked on door after door until her feet throbbed and her knuckles ached. ... of the Gambian uncle who finally saw himself and his struggle in a campaign for the city that he calls home."  Countering arguments that defending immigrants is an election loser, incompatible with fighting for jobs and living standards of all workers, Mamdani answered, "Dreaming demands solidarity  ... A life of dignity should not be reserved for a fortunate few. ... We can be free and we can be fed."
 
"We can be fed" is a call, not just for municipal grocery stores, but for attacking the corporate domination that keeps workers hungry and angry.  To win an election, he says, candidates have to defend workers' class interests.  But he combines this with "We can be free," which means ending raids and detentions.  But divided families also hear a call, and white workers with German or Italian surnames should remember it from Ellis Island more than a century ago.  On Angel Island in the San Francisco Bay those held in detention by racist anti-Chinese restrictions heard it too. It was a call to bring families together here, in the U.S.
 
Mamdani's embrace of immigrants recognizes a basic reality.  Modern migration is the product of the exploitation of immigrant-sending countries, and the wars that are both a legacy of colonialism and an effort to keep a neocolonial system in place.  Enforced debt, low wages and resource extraction produce displacement and migration, but also make countries attractive to investors.  They relocate production, taking advantage of the vast gulf created in the standard of living between the global south and the global north.  
 
This system criminalizes all people who are displaced, migrants certainly, but also the unemployed and homeless who lose jobs in rich countries.  Workers are pitted against each other, and political defenders of the system use this competition to keep them from changing it.  
 
Militarism is the enforcer, whether ICE on the border and in immigrant communities, or armed intervention abroad and the threat of it.  Immigrant workers suffer as a result, but so do workers in general.  Huge budgets for ICE and "defense" soak up money for meeting social needs.
 
Immigrant communities and unions call instead for a freedom agenda, for family reunification and legal status for people already here, for labor rights for immigrant workers and ending mass detentions and deportations. Migrants who depend on work in the U.S. want to make legal migration possible, but without being forced into corporate guestworker visa programs.  Those communities also seek political and social change at home, and an end to treaties like NAFTA, so that migration becomes voluntary, not a choice forced by hunger and poverty.
 
During the Cold War Chicano and Asian American communities endured the greatest wave of deportation in history (1.1 million in 1954) and the largest recruitment of braceros (450,000 in 1955).  Because the left had been expelled from most U.S. unions as the Cold War began, the dominant rightwing ideology in many unions was hostility to immigrants.  Eventually, that led to the support by the AFL-CIO for the 1986 Immigration Reform and Control Act.
 
That law included a limited legalization for some undocumented people, but it also included poison pills that provoked fierce opposition by a new wave of leftwing unionists and immigrant community activists.  The law's worst feature, employer sanctions, made it a crime for an employer to hire a worker without papers, and for that person to work.  The AFL-CIO then supported the bill, asserting that if undocumented immigrants couldn't legally work, they wouldn't come, and those here would leave.
 
Activists like Mike Garcia, became a national leader of the janitors' union, warned it would be used to make immigrant workers vulnerable to retaliation, and it did.  When Garcia's union organized janitors cleaning buildings for Apple, Hewlett-Packard and other tech companies in the early 1990's many were fired.  Similar examples multiplied. Making immigrant workers more vulnerable only made organizing harder.  Workers' standard of living did not go up.  
 
Labor opposition to the law grew and in many unions immigrant workers became organizers and officers.  Finally in 1999, the AFL-CIO convention in Los Angeles called for repealing sanctions, for another immigration amnesty, and for ending guestworker programs.  Many immigrant communities began looking at unions as defenders, and union organizing among immigrants mushroomed.  And despite raids and firings under both Democratic and Republican administrations, the political alliance of immigrants with the communities around them has become an engine for social change.  
 
In Los Angeles' civil rights upsurge of the 60s, the student and anti-war movements among Chicanos became a bedrock for workplace organizing.  Many leaders from the left - from Bert Corona to Maria Elena Durazo - fought to get the labor movement to accept the growing movements of undocumented workers. Political change, they argued, comes through their alliance with African American and white workers.
 
When Governor Pete Wilson won his 1994 campaign on an extreme anti-immigrant platform the cost was high.  Hundreds of thousands of immigrants became naturalized citizens, and with their native-born children they became voters.  Non-citizen union members went door to door urging support for political candidates they couldn't vote for themselves, as they've done in every election since..
 
Their alliance was sometimes difficult, but together they transformed Los Angeles' city politics.  The bastion of the open shop has become one of the country's most progressive city governments, with an African American mayor from the left and four DSA members on the city council. 
 
The basic political dynamics underlying change in other California cities are similar.  The most powerful union in San Francisco today is Unitehere Local 2, where a Chinese and Latino majority of hotel workers share power with smaller numbers of Black and white members.  Their enemies today are the Silicon Valley billionaires like Peter Theil, who spend vast amounts of money on municipal elections.  Many of the groups doing the fighting are based in immigrant communities, working in broad labor formations like Jobs with Justice that ally them with unions and workers across the board.
 
This is not a simple-minded argument that changing demographics is destiny.  Immigrant radicalism has changed this country's politics throughout its history.  And while California has always had a working class with a large percentage of immigrants, most states have a history of immigration as well.  In the midwest and south similar alliances are becoming more important politically.  The current raid regime is driving support for them, rather than the hostility and division Trump and Steven Miller hope for. 
 
In Omaha, Nebraska, and many small meatpacking towns, the number of Mexican immigrants has increased substantially in the last three decades.  ICE raided one company, Glen Valley Foods, earlier this year, and threatens to build the Cornhusker Clink, while the state is building its own detention center.  
 
Last year Margo Juarez, born and brought up in Omaha, was elected to Nebraska's unicameral State Senate, its first Latina, representing the historic South Omaha barrio.  After the Glen Valley raid she visited the detainees in detention, and emerged in tears after talking with women who had decided to self-deport to Mexico, leaving their U.S.-born children behind.  She then made an unannounced attempt to inspect the Cornhusker Clink, and slammed Governor Jim PIllen and U.S. Senator Pete Ricketts for supporting ICE's raids.  
 
Juarez is a Democrat, but in 2024 Dan Osborn, a strike leader who jettisoned the Democratic Party in 2024, almost beat Republican Deb Fischer for Senator as an Independent.  Now he's running against Ricketts, attacking the corporate money behind him, but also appealing to anti-immigrant voters with an ad offering to help Trump build the border wall.  Even in conservative Nebraska, however, the room for this kind of campaign is shrinking.  In rural meatpacking towns immigrants are now sometimes the majority, and their children will soon be voters.  
 
Meanwhile the UFCW has mounted organizing drives whose success depends on uniting meatpacking workers across the lines of race and nationality.  Nebraska was once a stronghold of the CIO's radical Packinghouse Workers, and could rediscover its radical roots in a new era. Campaigning by telling immigrants that they are not part of Nebraska's working class, is a strategy that puts a progressive future in jeopardy, not one that brings it closer.
 
In rural North Carolina the same tables are turning.  The huge Smithfield slaughterhouse in Tar Heel was organized a decade ago after a battle of almost two decades.  That victory began to seem possible when immigrant Mexican workers stopped the lines and marched in one of the huge May Day rallies of 2006.  African American workers, seeing their action, then shut the plant to demand a holiday for Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday.  Many Mexicans were driven from the slaughterhouse in mass firings and raids, but that in-plant alliance and broad community support finally won a union contract.
 
This fall, when notorious Border Patrol head Greg Bovino terrorized Charlotte's streets with bands of militarized agents, community activists formed a broad network to monitor their movement, calling their immigrant-protective effort "bless your heart."  As Alain Stephens of The Intercept recounted, when the Border Patrol moved into Appalachia, agents were met with organized hostility in Harlan County, famous in labor history for its militant coal strikes.   In rural Boone, after they picked up workers at two Mexican restaurants, 150 local people held signs saying "Time to Melt the ICE!"
 
ICE has announced it will continue targeting Southern communities, with raids in Mississippi and Louisiana called Swamp Sweep, and in New Orleans, called Operation Catahoula Crunch.  Here too they've met community opposition.  Even in conservative areas the raid regime is closing the political space for campaign formulas attacking corporations and restricting immigration.
 
Bernie Sanders slammed the Democrats after the 2024 election, accusing them of abandoning the working class, and many workers know the sorry history.  Bush negotiated NAFTA, but Clinton signed it.  Obama campaigned on opposing NAFTA while telling Canada he had no intention of changing it.  Nevertheless, Democratic Party centrists still argue that candidates in 2026 should attack Trump and corporate economic policies, but call for restrictions on immigration and more immigration enforcement.
 
This was the tactic used by Biden and Harris.  Centrist Democrats and Republicans negotiated an immigration bill in 2023, and then campaigned against Trump from the right, attacking him for telling Republicans in Congress not to vote for it.  That bill would have made it much harder to apply for asylum. It proposed $3 billion for adding more detention centers to the 200 existing ones run, for profit by private companies like the Geo Group (formerly the union-busting Wackenhut security company).  
 
A recent NYT article by Christopher Flavelle, "How Biden Ignored Warnings and Lost Americans' Faith in Immigration," argues that these measures weren't anti-immigrant enough.  The proposal responded to a media-driven frenzy (in which the NYT participated) that constantly referred to an immigration "crisis," that called the border "broken," and treated migrants as criminals.  Political operatives in Washington then took polls, announcing that the public wanted draconian enforcement, and advised candidates that going against this tide would lead to election losses.  
 
In the end, faced with a choice between Biden/Harris' and Trump's rhetoric demonizing migrants, many voters, workers included, opted for the real thing.  The strategy cost the votes of large numbers of Latinos, Asian Americans and immigrant rights and labor activists.  As a strategy for Democrats it was a bust, and demobilized the party when Trump used the hysteria to justify even greater immigration terror. Over half the people who voted for Trump cited immigration as their top issues, but only 3% of Harris voters did, according to a Navigator post-election survey.
 
Politically self-interested polls by media are a trap for progressives, because fighting for social change requires an organizer's methods.  When unions start an organizing drive, they don't poll workers to find out if a majority supports the boss.  Fear of the boss often affects the majority. The organizer's job is to help people lose that fear, find those workers who want to fight and build a majority organization to fight with.  
 
Workers are constantly bombarded by false ideas about immigration and immigrants, that hold immigrants responsible for everything from poverty and lost jobs to crime.  They then hear appeals to support anti-immigrant enforcement.  Just as unions do in organizing drives, progressives have to fight on the terrain of ideas, telling the truth about the causes of migration, plant closures and poverty.  To organize for political change, workers have to be convinced to support the rights and welfare of all working people, not just some.  
 
NYC's election was not a poll.  It was a radical education in what's possible, what workers really want and who the working class really is.  It was an education about capitalism that workers need. As Education Director for the AFL-CIO, after John Sweeney dumped the cold warriors in 1995, Bill Fletcher tried to meet that need.  He developed a program, Common Sense Economics, that unions could use to develop a deep understanding, and language for communicating it in the workplace.   
 
Working class communities need a political education program.  Instead, centrists would tell them there's not enough to go around, and to vote for politicians who will make sure they get their share, against other workers.  But the future is with Steve Tesfagiorgis, who helped lead Teamsters Local 320 to a contract at the University of Minnesota.  "There are more than 600 African immigrant workers at the University," he says. "Every one of us came to this country afraid. We were told to work hard and keep our heads down. Teamsters for a Democratic Union showed us we can fight back. No one is coming to save us. If we want respect, we need to fight for it ourselves."  

 

SAN FRANCISCO, CA -  Migrant farmworkers, domestic workers and their supporters march through San Francisco's Mission District to call for passage of the Registry Bill, which would allow undocumented people to gain legal immigration status.  The march was organized by the Northern California Coalition for Just Immigration Reform. 

 

Thursday, December 11, 2025

photos from the edge 25 - THE VERSATRONEX STRIKE

photos from the edge 25 - THE VERSATRONEX STRIKE
The first strike by production workers in a Silicon Valley factory, 1992-3
Photographs by David Bacon

 


In mid-February of 1993 the last workers at the Versatronex plant in Sunnyvale filed out of the plant's door for the last time, and the factory closed.  But many electronics workers in Silicon Valley remember Versatronex as the first plant where production workers went on strike, and the first plant where a strike won recognition for their union.
    
"It's a little sad, but we said at the beginning that if the company was going to close, let them close," said Sandra Gomez, who lost her job at the end of the Versatronex strike.  "But as long as the plant was open, we were going to fight for our rights."
    
Factories like Versatronex are a startling contrast to the hi-tech public image.  More stable and better-paying production jobs in the valley's large plants practically disappeared, while contractors like Versatronex competed for business from big companies by cutting wages and conditions.

Disclosure:  David Bacon was the lead organizer for the United Electrical Workers during the strike and organizing drive



Part one, the strike begins
October 16, 1992

Workers at Versatronex called in the union after they had already organized themselves to protest their conditions, and as they were preparing to stop work to demand changes.  When the company heard rumors of the stoppage, they held a meeting to head off the planned action.  One of the workers active in the organizing effort, Joselito Muñoz, stood up in the meeting and declared to company supervisors that "Se acabo el tiempo de esclavitud," which translated means "The time of slavery is over."  Muñoz was fired two days later, and on October 16 Verstronex workers went on strike to win his job back. 



 
Part two, workers set up the strike committee and begin picketing
October 17-24, 1992

"I went to every meeting before the strike started," she remembers, "but I was kind of young, and I didn't know what to expect.  Even though I spoke on television after the strike started, I wasn't sure I was doing the right thing.  But I learned a lot in those first days, and now I feel very strongly that we have to stand up for ourselves.  Even if we lose our jobs here, we will keep on fighting for our rights wherever we work." - striker Sandra Gomez




 
Part three, after two weeks the company still won't talk to the workers, but they refuse to give up their demands
October 27, 1992

Conditions at Versatronex gave credence to the accusation  that a high tech image masked a reality of sweatshop conditions.  Sergio Mendoza worked in the "coil room," making electrical coils for IBM computers for seven years.  The work process involved dipping the coils into chemical baths, and drying them off in ovens.  "They never told us the names or the dangers of the chemicals we worked with," he recalls.  "Sometimes the vapors were so strong that our noses would begin to bleed.  Women who cleaned parts with solvents had deep cracks in the skin on the end of their fingers."  The company filed declarations with the Bay Area Air Quality Management District that it discharged 3400 pounds of ethylene dichloride, a known carcinogen, into the atmosphere in 1991.  Nevertheless, Versatronex workers allege that there was no ventilation system or scrubbers for discharges within or outside the plant.




 
Part four, the janitors union and community supporters rally at the plant in protest and try to speak to Versatronex' owners
October 29 and 30, 1992

According to Lenny Siegel, director of the Pacific Studies Center in Mountain View, "there's a pretty clear trend over the long term" in increasing employment in contract assembly plants in Silicon Valley, "especially among companies which make computers.  Major companies like Sun Microsystems and Tandem Computer have contracted out most of their production, and rely on companies like Solectron [a large contract assembly company.]  This leads to deteriorating conditions for assemblers, since contract assemblers certainly don't pay what a company like IBM does." 





 
Part five, strikers brought their children to the picket line every day
October 31, 1992

Strikers were fighting for their families, so it only made sense to show the world the children who were paying the price of the low wages and insecure jobs of their parents.  With virtually no income during the strike, parents had no childcare, and came together at the picket line to share caring for the kids.  The children, seeing their parents acting in this new way, wanted to support them and understood what they were fighting for.







 
Part six, strikers mount a hunger strike in front of Versatronex' biggest customer, Digital Microwave Corp.
November 12 - 20, 1992

Another large customer who had their boards assembled at Versatronex was Digital Microwave Corp., a manufacturer of equipment for telecommunications networks. At the high point of the 6-week Versatronex strike, 10 women strikers went on a hunger strike outside DMC's glittering offices.  For four days they fasted to dramatize their effort to hold that manufacturer responsible for their working conditions.  Male strikers supported them by setting up tents and living around the clock on the sidewalk outside DMC's front door.  Word of their action spread like an electric current through the valley's Mexican and immigrant communities.
    
"We went on a hunger strike against Digital Microwave Corporation because they send work to Versatronex, and then they close their eyes to the conditions we work in," explained hunger striker Margarita Aguilera.  "And after our strike started, DMC sent even more work into the Versatronex plant."  At the end of the fast, DMC made public a letter written to Versatronex management which said that, although it didn't intend to intervene in the labor dispute, "you should be aware that we are actively seeking alternative suppliers to fill our needs.  If we find such suppliers, it may well be that we will transfer our needs to those resources on a permanent basis."








Part seven, workers end the strike, and petition for a union election
December 1, 1992

Versatronex workers ended their strike on November 25, after the National Labor Relations Board issued a formal complaint, the equivalent of an indictment, against the company for illegally firing Muñoz.  The day after they went back to work, workers filed a petition with the NLRB for a union election at the plant.  Then, as the union and the company were negotiating over arrangements for the election and accusations of retaliation against strikers, the company announced that it would close the factory permanently.  The announcement was made the day before Christmas.  Community supporters distributed hams and turkeys to the workers as they left the factory.






 
Part eight, Silicon Valley's immigrant workers march to demand labor rights
December 19, 1992

During the Christmas holidays, workers employed by Versatronex, USM and Litton marched through crowds of shoppers in downtown San Jose.  They noisily protested declining conditions for the immigrants who make up the bulk of the workforce employed by Silicon Valley contractors.  Their protest highlighted a new development in the home of high technology - militant and angry demonstrations by workers from the valley's factories. 

The three groups joined forces because they are all immigrants, and are all employed by contractors who do business with the area's large companies.  USM workers were mostly Korean immigrants, who lost their jobs when the owner suddenly closed the factory's doors, owing workers two months in back wages.  Supported by San Jose's Korean Resource Center, they organized protests against Silicon Valley Bank, whom they held liable for their lost wages because the bank took control of USM's assets.  

Litton janitors, also immigrants, are mostly Mexican.  They worked for a union janitorial contractor, and some had worked in the Litton buildings for over 10 years.  Litton brought in a new, non-union contractor, who employed a new workforce at lower wages and conditions. The janitors were represented by Service Employees Local 1877, and were drawn from the same immigrant workforce employed on the production lines in the electronics plants.  A year ago Local 1877 made an important organizing breakthrough when it forced Apple Computer, and later Hewlett-Packard Corporation, to sign agreements using union janitorial contractors. 










Monday, December 8, 2025

photos from the edge 24 - DOES TRUMP HATE SOMALIS, OR DOES HE FEAR THEM?

photos from the edge 24
DOES TRUMP HATE SOMALIS, OR DOES HE FEAR THEM?
Lewiston, Maine, March 2018
Photos by David Bacon

LEWISTON, MAINE:  It's clear that Trump hates Somalis.  In his first administration he included Somalia as one of his "shithole" countries, and tried to prohibit its people from coming to the U.S. "They come from hell," he said just the other day. "We don't want them in our country."  

Trump singled out courageous Congress Member Ilhan Omar (again) and called her "garbage."  Omar, with great dignity, responded only to say she thought his attention "creepy," as indeed it is.  But his hatred of Somalis is also revealing. 

Trump is afraid, and he has reason to be.  Since they started coming to the U.S. in the wake of the destabilization of their country in the 1990s, Somalis have become one of the most politically engaged immigrant communities in this country.  In Minnesota it's not just Ilhan Omar.  The state now has three members of its legislature who were born in Somalia.

Trump accuses them of "taking over" Minnesota, as though they'd somehow managed to produce votes by magic. But anyone can see that what Trump really has is a bad case of fear.  Given the state's size (5.8 million) and the community's size (43,000), it's clear that far more votes come from non-Somalis than Somalis. 

The other state where Somalis are getting elected is the whitest state in the country - Maine.  Deqa Dhalac was elected to the South Portland City Council in 2018, and in 2021 the other councilors chose her as mayor.  Now she's in the state legislature, along with two other Somalis.  1.4 million people live in Maine; only 6000 of them were either born in Somalia, or have Somali parents.

What scares Trump is that white people are voting for Somalis in large numbers, because they have good political skills.  They speak about the basic class interests that motivate most working class people to the polls.  Dhalac's program includes responding to climate change (Portland is on Maine's coast), affordable housing, and promoting diversity, equity and inclusion.

The experience of Somalis has not been a history of easy acceptance, though.  In nearby Lewiston, another Maine city where many have settled, they organized a mosque when they decided to make the city home.  But in 2006 someone threw a pig's head into it.  

The mayor of Lewiston announced in 2002 that Somalis should stop coming.  That made white supremacy an acceptable attitude, and 32 people demonstrated to support the mayor.  Another 4000 counter-protested, however, and  Dhalac announced to them, "I am a Muslim, Black immigrant woman, and I'm not going anywhere."  Fifteen years later she was on the South Portland City Council.

In Rockland, fifty miles from Lewiston, the city council responded to Trump's anti-immigrant insults and threats by adopting, 4-1, an ordinance telling its police not to cooperate with ICE.  Immigrant rights activists and immigrant communities are fighting for a similar bill, LD 1971, in the state legislature.

But Trump's "garbage" insult is frightening.  During his first term, after he'd demonized and tried to ban immigrants from African and Middle Eastern countries, someone shot into the mosque.  Many Somalis are in the U.S. with Temporary Protected Status, which Trump ended for other nationalities.  They worry they could be next.  Still, the local imam Saleh Mahamud says, "This is my country. My children were born here. And we are not going anywhere else."

These photographs show the old mill buildings of Lewiston's past, the slum apartments where Somalis lived when they first arrived, and a few community members in front of their new stores and businesses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ferduz, a Somali woman, walks down Main Street, where Somali stores have taken the place of boarded-up storefronts.

Fozia Guirreh, a Somali woman, on Main Street,

Charmarke, a Somali woman, and her son Youssouf on Main Street 

  Mohamed Ali Ibrahim is a leader of the Somali community