Victory: Ohio’s plan to deny workers their unemployment insurance is shelved

Some stories are just so satisfying that they deserve to be shared.  Here is one.

In early May, Ohio Republican Governor Mike DeWine began reopening the state economy.  And to support business and slash state expenses, both at worker expense, he had a “COVID-19 Fraud” form put up on the Ohio Department of Job and Family Services website where employers could confidentially report employees “who quit or refuse work when it is available due to COVID-19.”  Inspectors would then investigate whether the reported workers should lose their unemployment benefits and possibly be charged with unemployment fraud.

Significantly, as Sarah Ingles, the board president of the Central Ohio Worker Center, noted in a statement quoted by the Intercept, the form “does not define what constitutes a ‘good cause’ exemption, and by doing so, may exclude many Ohio workers who have justifiable reasons for not returning to work and for receiving unemployment insurance benefits.”  In other words, “while the state did not take the time to define what a ‘good cause’ exemption includes or does not include, it did have time to develop an online form where employers could report employees.”

However, thanks to the work of an anonymous hacker, the site has now been taken down. In officialese, “The previous form is under revision pending policy references.”  Most importantly, as Janus Rose writing for Motherboard reports:

“No benefits are being denied right now as a result of a person’s decision not to return to work while we continue to evaluate the policy,” ODJFS Director Kimberly Hall told Cleveland.com.

According to Rose, the hacker developed a script that overwhelmed the system:

The script works by automatically generating fake information and entering it into the form. For example, the companies are taken from a list of the top 100 employers in the state of Ohio—including Wendy’s, Macy’s, and Kroger—and names and addresses are randomly created using freely-available generators found online. Once all the data is entered, the script has to defeat a CAPTCHA-like anti-spam measure at the end of the form. Unlike regular CAPTCHAs, which display a grid of pictures and words that the user must identify, the security tool used by the form is merely a question-and-answer field. By storing a list of common questions and their respective answers, the script can easily defeat the security measure by simply hitting the “switch questions” button until it finds a question it can answer.

To make the code more accessible, software engineer David Ankin repackaged the script into a simple command line tool which allows users to run the script in the background of their computer, continuously submitting fake data to the Ohio website.

“If you get several hundred people to do this, it’s pretty hard to keep your data clean unless you have data scientists on staff,” Ankin told Motherboard.

The hacker told Motherboard they viewed their effort as a form of direct action against the exploitation of working people during the COVID-19 crisis.  Score one for working people.

The 1930s and Now: Looking Back to Move Forward

My article What the New Deal Can Teach Us About Winning a Green New Deal is in the latest issue of the journal Class, Race and Corporate Power.  As I say in the abstract,

While there are great differences between the crises and political movements and possibilities of the 1930s and now, there are also important lessons that can be learned from the efforts of activists to build mass movements for social transformation during the Great Depression. My aim in this paper is to illuminate the challenges faced and choices made by these activists and draw out some of the relevant lessons for contemporary activists seeking to advance a Green New Deal.

Advocates of a Green New Deal often point to the New Deal and its government programs to demonstrate the possibility of a progressive state-directed process of economic change.  I wrote my article to show that the New Deal was a response to growing mass activity that threatened the legitimacy and stability of the existing economic and political order rather than elite good-will, and to examine the movement building process that generated that activity.

Depression-era activists were forced to organize in a period of economic crisis, mass unemployment and desperation, and state intransigence. While they fell short of achieving their goal of social transformation, they did build a movement of the unemployed and spark a wave of militant labor activism that was powerful enough to force state policy-makers to embrace significant, although limited, social reforms, including the creation of programs of public employment and systems of social security and unemployment insurance.

Differences between that time period and this one are shrinking and the lessons we can learn from studying the organizing strategies and tactics of those activists are becoming ever more relevant.  The US economy is now in a deep recession, one that will be more devastating than the Great Recession.  US GDP shrank at a 4.8 percent annualized rate in the first quarter of this year and will likely contract at a far greater 25 percent annualized rate in the second quarter.  While most analysts believe the economy will begin growing again in the third quarter, their predictions are for an overall yearly decline in the 6-8 percent range.   As for the years ahead—no one can really say.  The Economist, for example, is talking about a 90 percent economy for years after the current lockdown ends.  In other words, life will remain hard for most working people for some time.

Not surprisingly, given the size of the economic contraction, unemployment has also exploded. According to the Economic Policy Institute, “In the past six weeks, nearly 28 million, or one in six, workers applied for unemployment insurance benefits across the country.”  More than a quarter of the workforce in the following states have filed for benefits: Hawaii, Kentucky, Georgia, Rhode Island, Michigan, and Nevada.  And tragically, millions of other workers have been prevented from applying because of outdated state computer systems and punitive regulations as well as overworked employment department staff.  Even at its best, the US unemployment system, established in 1935 as part of the New Deal reforms, was problematic, paying too little, for too short a time period, and with too many eligibility restrictions.  Now, it is collapsing under the weight of the crisis.

Yet, at the same time, worker organizing and militancy is growing. Payday Report has a strike tracker that has already identified over 150 strikes, walkouts, and sickouts since early March across a range of sectors and industries, including retail, fast food, food processing, warehousing, manufacturing, public sector, health care, and the gig economy.  As an Associated Press story points out:

Across the country, the unexpected front-line workers of the pandemic — grocery store workers, Instacart shoppers and Uber drivers, among them — are taking action to protect themselves. Rolling job actions have raced through what’s left of the economy, including Pittsburgh sanitation workers who walked off their jobs in the first weeks of lockdown and dozens of fast-food workers in California who left restaurants last week to perform socially distant protests in their cars.

Rather than defending workers, governments are now becoming directly involved in suppressing their struggles. For example, after meatpacker walkouts closed at least 22 meat plans and threatened the operation of many others, triggered by an alarming rise in the number of workers testing positive for the virus, President Trump signed an executive order requiring companies to remain open and fully staffed. It remains to be seen how workers will respond.  In Pennsylvania, the Governor responded to nurse walkouts at nursing homes and long-term care facilities to protest a lack of protective equipment by sending national guard members to replace them.

Activists throughout the country are now creatively exploring ways to support those struggling to survive the loss of employment and those engaged in workplace actions to defend their health and well-being.  Many are also seeking ways to weave the many struggles and current expressions of social solidarity together into a mass movement for radical transformation.  Despite important differences in political and economic conditions, activists today are increasingly confronting challenges that are similar to ones faced by activists in the 1930s and there is much we can learn from a critical examination of their efforts.  My article highlights what I believe are some of the most important lessons.

Coronavirus: a return to normal is not good enough

We shouldn’t be satisfied with a return to normalcy. We need a “new normal.”

We are now in a recession, one triggered by government ordered closures of businesses producing nonessential goods and services, an action taken to limit the spread of the coronavirus. In response, Congress has approved three stimulus measures which legislators hope will keep the economy afloat until the virus is contained and companies can resume business as usual.

Many people, rightly criticizing the size, speed, and aims of these measures, have called for a new, improved stimulus package.  But what is getting far less attention, and may be the most important thing to criticize, is the notion that we should view a return to normalcy as our desired goal.  The fact is we also need a new economy.

The old normal only benefited a few

The media, even those critical of the Trump administration, all too often showcase economic experts who, while acknowledging the severity of the current crisis, reassure us that economic activity will return to normal before too long.  But since our economy increasingly worked to benefit a small minority, that is no cause for celebration.

Rarely mentioned is the fact that our economy was heading into a recession before the coronavirus hit. Or that living and working conditions for the majority of Americans were declining even during the past years of expansion. Or that the share of workers in low-wage jobs was growing over the last fifteen years.  Or that Americans are facing a retirement crisis.  Or that life expectancy fell from 2014 to 2017 because of the rise in mortality among young and middle-aged adults of all racial groups due to drug overdoses, suicides, and alcoholism.  If existing patterns of ownership and production remain largely unchanged, we face a future of ever greater instability, inequality, and poverty.

The economic crisis

The failings of our current system are only accentuated by the crisis. Many analysts are predicting an unprecedented one-quarter decline in GDP of 8 percent to 10 percent in the second quarter of this year.   The overall yearly decline may well be in the 5-7 percent range, the steepest annual drop in growth since 1946.

The unemployment rate is soaring and may reach 20 percent before the year is out.  A recent national survey found that 52 percent of workers under the age of 45 have already lost their job, been placed on leave, or had their hours cut because of the pandemic-caused downturn.

As a consequence, many people are finding it difficult to pay rent.  Survey results show that only 69 percent of renters paid their rent during the first week of April compared with over 80 percent during the first week of March.  And this includes renters who made partial payments.  Homeowners are not in much better shape.

Our unemployment insurance system has long been deficient: benefits are inadequate, last for only short period of time, and eligibility restrictions leave many workers uncovered. As of year-end 2019, the average unemployment insurance check was only $378 a week, the average duration of benefits was less than 15 weeks, and fewer than one-third of those unemployed were drawing benefits.

Now, the system is overwhelmed by people seeking to file new claims, leaving millions unable to even start their application process.  Although recent federal legislation allows states to expand their unemployment insurance eligibility and benefits, a very large share of those losing their jobs will find this part of our safety net not up to its assigned job.

A better crafted stimulus is needed

In response to the crisis, policy-makers have struggled to approve three so-called stimulus measures, the March 2020 Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security (CARES) Act being the largest and most recent.  Unfortunately, these efforts have been disappointing.  For example, most of the provisions in the CARES Act include set termination dates untied to economic or health conditions. Approved spending amounts for individuals are also insufficient, despite the fact that Treasury Secretary Mnuchin believes the $1200 provided to most Americans as part of the CARES Act will be enough to tide them over for 10 weeks.

Also problematic is that not all CARE funds are directed to where they are most needed.  For example, no money was allocated to help states maintain their existing Medicaid program eligibility and benefit standards or expand health care coverage to uninsured immigrants and those who lose their job-based insurance.  And no money was allocated to state and local governments to help them maintain existing services in the face of declining tax revenues. Perhaps not surprisingly, the largest share of CARES approved spending is earmarked for corporate rescues without any requirement that the funds be used for saving jobs or wages.  In sum, we need another, better stimulus measure if we hope to minimize the social costs of our current crisis.

Creating a new normal

Even a better stimulus measure leaves our economy largely unchanged.  Yet, ironically, our perilous situation has encouraged countless expressions of social trust and solidarity that reveal ways to move forward to a more humane, egalitarian, and sustainable economy.  This starts with the growing recognition by many Americans that social solidarity, not competitive individualism, should shape our policies. People have demonstrated strong support for free and universal access to health care during this crisis, and we can build on that to push for an expansive Medicare for All health care system.  People also have shown great solidarity with the increasingly organized struggles of mail carriers, health care workers, bus drivers, grocery shoppers, cashiers, and warehouse workers to keep themselves safe while they brave the virus for our benefit.  We can build on that solidarity to push for new labor laws that strengthen the ability of all workers to form strong, democratic unions.

There is also growing support for putting social well-being before the pursuit of profit.  Many people have welcomed government action mandating that private corporations convert their production to meet social needs, such as the production of ventilators and masks.  We can build on this development to encourage the establishment of publicly owned and operated industries to ensure the timely and affordable production of critical goods like pharmaceuticals and health care equipment. And many people are coming to appreciate the importance of planning for future crises.  This appreciation can be deepened to encourage support for the needed transformation of our economy to minimize the negative consequences of the growing climate crisis.

We should not discount our ability to shape the future we want.

The Green New Deal and the State: Lessons from World War II—Part II

There is growing interest in a Green New Deal, but far too little discussion among supporters about the challenging nature of the required economic transformation, the necessary role of public planning and ownership in shaping it, or the strategies necessary to institutionalize a strong worker-community voice in the process and final outcome. In this two-part series I draw on the experience of World War II, when the state was forced to direct a rapid transformation from civilian to military production, to help encourage and concretize that discussion.

In Part I, I first discussed the need for a rapid Green New Deal-inspired transformation and the value of studying the U.S. experience during World War II to help us achieve it. Then, I examined the evolution, challenges, and central role of state planning in the wartime conversion to alert us to the kind of state agencies and capacities we will need to develop. Finally, I highlighted two problematic aspects of the wartime conversion and postwar reconversion which we must guard against: the ability of corporations to strengthen their dominance and the marginalization of working people from any decision-making role in conversion planning.

Here in Part II, I discuss the efforts of labor activists to democratize the process of transformation during the war period in order to sharpen our thinking about how best to organize a labor-community movement for a Green New Deal.  During this period, many labor activists struggled against powerful political forces to open up space for new forms of economic planning with institutionalized worker-community involvement.  The organizing and movement building efforts of District 8 leaders of the United Electrical, Radio & Machine Workers of America (UE), as described by Rosemary Feuer in her book Radical Unionism in the Midwest, 1900-1950, stand out in this regard.  Although their success was limited, there is much that we can learn from their efforts.

Organizing for a worker-community planned conversion process

District 8 covered Missouri, Iowa, Kansas, Arkansas, southern Indiana and southern and western Illinois, and UE contracts in that area were heavily weighted towards small and medium sized firms producing mechanical and electrical products.  As the government began its war time economic conversion in 1941, its policy of suppressing civilian goods and rewarding big corporations with defense contracts hit the firms that employed UE members hard.

The UE response was to build a labor and community-based effort to gain control over the conversion process. In Evansville, Indiana, the UE organized a community campaign titled “Prevent Evansville from Becoming a Ghost Town.”  As Feurer explains,

District 8’s tentative proposal called upon union and civic and business leaders to request the establishment of a federal program that would “be administered through joint and bona fide union-management-government cooperation” at the local level. It would ensure that before reductions in the production of consumer goods were instituted, government must give enough primary war contracts and subcontracts to “take up the slack” of unemployment caused in cities such as Evansville. It also proposed that laid-off workers would get “first claim on jobs with other companies in the community,” while excessive overtime would be eliminated until unemployment was reduced.

District 8 organizers pressed Evansville’s mayor to gather community, labor, and business representatives from all over the Midwest to discuss how to manage the conversion to save jobs.  They organized mass petition drives and won endorsements for their campaign from many community groups and small businesses.  Persuaded, Evansville’s mayor contacted some 500 mayors from cities with populations under 250,000 in eleven midwestern states, requesting that they send delegations of “city officials, labor leaders, managers of industry and other civic leaders” to a gathering in Chicago.  Some 1500 delegates attended the September meeting.

The conference endorsed the UE’s call for a significant role for labor in conversion planning, specifically “equal participation of management and labor in determining a proper and adequate retraining program and allocation of primary and sub-contracts. . . [And that] all possible steps be taken to avoid serious dislocations in non-defense industries.”  A committee of seven, with two labor representatives, was chosen to draw up a more concrete program of action.

One result was that Evansville and Newton, Iowa (another city with a strong UE presence) were named “Priority Unemployment Plan” areas, and allowed to conduct “an experiment for community-based solving of unemployment and dislocations caused by war priorities.”  The plan restricted new plant construction if existing production capacity was considered sufficient, encouraged industry-wide and geographical-based pooling of production facilities to boost efficiency and stabilize employment, required companies to provide training to help workers upgrade their skills, and supported industry-wide studies to determine how to best adapt existing facilities for military production.

William Sentner, the head of District 8, called for labor to take a leading role in organizing community gatherings in other regions and creating regional planning councils. Unfortunately, CIO leaders did little to support the idea. Moreover, once the war started, unemployment stopped being a serious problem and the federal government took direct control over the conversion process.

Organizing for a worker-community planned reconversion process

As the war began to wind down, District 8 leaders once again took up the issue of conversion, this time conversion back to a peacetime economy.  In 1943, they got the mayor of St. Louis to create a community planning committee, with strong labor participation, to discuss future economic possibilities for the city.  In 1944, they organized a series of union conferences with elected worker representatives from each factory department in plants under UE contract throughout the district, along with selected guests, to discuss reconversion and postwar employment issues.

At these conferences District 8 leaders emphasized the importance of continued government planning to guarantee full employment, but also stressed that the new jobs should be interesting and fulfilling and the workweek should be reduced to 30 hours to allow more time for study, recreation, and family life.  They also discussed the importance of other goals: an expansion of workers’ rights in production; labor-management collaboration to develop and produce new products responsive to new needs; support for women who wanted to continue working, in part by the provision of nurseries; and the need to end employment discrimination against African Americans.

While these conferences were taking place, the Missouri River flooded, covering many thousands of acres of farmland with dirt and sand, and leaving thousands of people homeless.  The US Army Corps of Engineers rushed to take advantage of the situation, proposing a major dredging operation to deepen the lower Missouri River channel, an effort strongly supported by big shipping interests.  It became known as the Pick Plan. Not long after, the Bureau of Reclamation proposed a competing plan that involved building a series of dams and reservoirs in the upper river valley, a plan strongly supported by big agricultural interests. It became known as the Sloan Plan.

While lower river and upper river business interests battled, a grassroots movement grew across the region opposing both plans, seeing them, each in their own way, as highly destructive.  For example, building the dams and reservoirs would destroy the environment and require the flooding of hundreds of thousands of acres, much of it owned by small farmers, and leave tens of thousands of families without homes.

Influenced by the growing public anger, newspapers in St. Louis began calling for the creation of a new public authority, a Missouri Valley Authority (MVA), to implement a unified plan for flood control and development that was responsive to popular needs.  Their interest in an MVA reflected the popularity of the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA), an agency created in 1933 and tasked with providing cheap electricity to homes and businesses and addressing many of the region’s other development challenges, such as flooding, land erosion, and population out-migration.  In fact, during the 1930s, several bills were submitted to Congress to establish other river-based regional authorities.  Roosevelt endorsed seven of them, but they all died in committee as the Congress grew more conservative and war planning took center stage in Washington DC.

District 8, building on its desire to promote postwar regional public planning, eagerly took up the idea of an MVA.  It issued a pamphlet titled “One River, One Plan” that laid out its vision for the agency.  As a public agency, it was to be responsive to a broad community steering committee; have the authority to engage in economic and environmental planning for the region; and, like the TVA, directly employ unionized workers to carry out much of its work.  Its primary tasks would be the electrification of rural areas and flood control through soil and water conservation projects and reforestation.  The pamphlet estimated that five hundred thousand jobs could be created within five years as a result of these activities and the greater demand for goods and services flowing from electrification and the revitalization of small farms and their communities.

District 8 used its pamphlet to launch a community-based grassroots campaign for its MVA, which received strong support from many unions, environmentalists, and farm groups.  And, in August 1944, Senator James Murray from Montana submitted legislation to establish an MVA, written largely with the help of District 8 representatives.  A similar bill was submitted in the House.  Both versions called for a two-year planning period with the final plan to be voted on by Congress.

District 8 began planning for a bigger campaign to win Congressional approval.  However, their efforts were dealt a major blow when rival supporters of the Pick and Sloan plans settled their differences and coalesced around a compromise plan.  Congress quickly approved the Pick-Sloan Flood Control Act late December 1944 but, giving MVA supporters some hope that they could still prevail, Senator Murray succeeded in removing the act’s anti-MVA provisions.

District 8 leaders persuaded their national union to assign staff to help them establish a St. Louis committee, a nine-state committee, and a national committee to support the MVA. The St. Louis committee was formed in January 1945 with a diverse community-based steering committee.  Its strong outreach effort was remarkably successful, even winning support from the St. Louis Chamber of Commerce.  Feurer provides a good picture of the breadth and success of the effort:

By early 1945, other city-based committees were organizing in the nine-state region. A new national CIO committee for an MVA laid plans for “reaching every CIO member in the nine-state region on the importance of regionally administered MVA.  In addition, other state CIO federations pledged to organize for an MVA and to disseminate material on the MVA through local unions to individual members.  Further the seeds planted in 1944 among AFL unions were beginning to develop into a real coalition.  In Kansas City, the AFL was “circulating all the building trades unions in the nine states for support” to establish a nine-state buildings trades MVA committee. Both the AFL and CIO held valley wide conferences on the MVA to promote and organize for it.

Murray submitted a new bill in February 1945, which included new measures on soil conversation and the protection of wild game, water conservation, and forest renewal. It also gave the MVA responsibility for the “disposal of war and defense factories to encourage industrial and business expansion.”

But the political tide had turned.  The economy was in expansion, the Democratic Party was moving rightward, and powerful forces were promoting a growing fear of communism.  Murray’s new bill was shunted to a hostile committee and big business mounted an unrelenting and successful campaign to kill it, arguing that the MVA would establish an undemocratic “super-government,” was a step toward “state socialism,” and was now unnecessary given passage of the Pick-Sloan Flood Control Act.

Drawing lessons

A careful study of District 8’s efforts, especially its campaign for an MVA, can help us think more creatively and effectively about how to build a labor-community coalition in support of a Green New Deal.  In terms of policy, there are many reasons to consider following District 8 in advocating for regionally based public entities empowered to plan and direct economic activity as a way to begin the national process of transformation.  For example, many of the consequences of climate change are experienced differently depending on region, which makes it far more effective to plan regional responses.  And many of the energy and natural resources that need to be managed during a period of transformation are shared by neighboring states.  Moreover, state governments, unions, and community groups are more likely to have established relations with their regional counterparts, making conversation and coordination easier to achieve.  Also, regionally organized action would make it much harder for corporations to use inter-state competition to weaken initiatives.

Jonathan Kissam, UE’s Communication Director and editor of the UE News, advocates just such an approach:

UE District 8’s Missouri Valley Authority proposal could easily be revived and modernized, and combined with elements of the British proposal for a National Climate Service. A network of regional Just Transition Authorities, publicly owned and accountable to communities and workers, could be set up to address the specific carbon-reduction and employment needs of different regions of the country.

The political lessons are perhaps the most important.  District 8’s success in building significant labor-community alliances around innovative plans for war conversion and then peacetime reconversion highlights the pivotal role unions can, or perhaps must, play in a progressive transformation process.  Underpinning this success was District 8’s commitment to sustained internal organizing and engagement with community partners.  Union members embraced the campaigns because they could see how a planned transformation of regional economic activity was the only way to secure meaningful improvements in workplace conditions, and such a transformation could only be won in alliance with the broader community.  And community allies, and eventually even political leaders, were drawn to the campaigns because they recognized that joining with organized labor gave them the best chance to win structural changes that also benefited them.

We face enormous challenges in attempting to build a similar kind of working class-anchored movement for a Green New Deal-inspired economic transformation.  Among them: weakened unions; popular distrust of the effectiveness of public planning and production; and weak ties between labor, environmental, and other community groups.  Overcoming these challenges will require our own sustained conversations and organizing to strengthen the capacities of, and connections between, our organizations and to develop a shared and grounded vision of a Green New Deal, one that can unite and empower the broader movement for change we so desperately need.

The Green New Deal and the State: Lessons from World War II—Part I

There is growing interest in a Green New Deal, but far too little discussion among supporters about the challenging nature of the required economic transformation, the necessary role of public planning and ownership in shaping it, or the strategies necessary to institutionalize a strong worker-community voice in the process and final outcome.  In this two-part series I draw on the experience of World War II, when the state was forced to direct a rapid transformation from civilian to military production, to help encourage and concretize that discussion.

In this post, I first discuss the need for a rapid Green New Deal-inspired transformation and the value of studying the US experience during World War II to help us achieve it.  Next, I examine the evolution, challenges, and central role of state planning in the wartime conversion of the US economy to alert us to the kind of state agencies and capacities  we will need to develop. Finally, I highlight two problematic aspects of the wartime conversion and postwar reconversion which must be avoided if we hope to ensure a conversion to a more democratic and solidaristic economy.

In the post to follow, I will highlight the efforts of labor activists to democratize the process of transformation during the war period in order to sharpen our thinking about how best to organize a labor-community mass movement for a Green New Deal.

The challenge of transformation

We are already experiencing a climate crisis, marked by extreme weather conditions, droughts, floods, warming oceans, rising sea levels, fires, ocean acidification, and soil deterioration.  The Special Report on Global Warming of 1.5°C by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change underscores the importance of limiting the increase in the global mean temperature to 1.5 degrees Celsius above pre-industrial levels by 2100 if we are to avoid ever worsening climate disasters and “global scale degradation and loss of ecosystems and biodiversity.” The report makes clear that achieving this goal requires reducing global net carbon dioxide emissions by 45 per cent by 2030 and then reaching net zero emissions by 2050.

Tragically, despite the seriousness of the crisis, we are on track for a far higher global mean temperature.  Even big business is aware of what is at stake. Two researchers employed by JP Morgan, the world’s largest financer of fossil fuels, recently published an internal study that warns of the dangers of climate inaction. According to the Guardian, which obtained a copy of the report, “the authors say policymakers need to change direction because a business-as-usual climate policy ‘would likely push the earth to a place that we haven’t seen for many millions of years,’ with outcomes that might be impossible to reverse.”

It is easy to see why growing numbers of people are attracted to the idea of a Green New Deal.  The Green New Deal promises a rapid and dramatic curtailing of fossil fuel use as part of a broader transformation to a more sustainable, egalitarian, and socially responsive economy.  Such a transformation will, by necessity, involve massive new investments to promote the production and distribution of clean renewable energy, expand energy efficient public transit systems, support regenerative agriculture, and retrofit existing homes, offices, and factories.  The Green New Deal also promises new, publicly funded programs designed to ensure well-paid and secure employment for all; high-quality universal health care; affordable, safe public housing; clean air; and healthy and affordable food.

Unfortunately, the proposed Green New Deal investments and programs, as attractive and as needed as they may be, are unlikely on their own to achieve the required reduction in carbon emissions.  It is true that many Green New Deal investments and programs can be expected to lower overall energy demand, thereby making it easier for rapidly growing supplies of clean energy to support economic activity.  But even though renewable energy production is growing rapidly in the US, it still accounts for less than 15 percent of total US energy consumption and less than 20 percent of electricity generation.  And based on the experience of other countries, increasing the production of renewable energy does not, by itself, guarantee a significant decline in the production and use of fossil fuels, especially when they remain relatively cheap and plentiful.

Rapid decarbonization will also require direct government action to force down the production of fossil fuels and make their use prohibitively expensive.  And this action will have significant consequences.  For example, limiting fossil fuel production will leave fossil fuel companies with enormous unused and therefore worthless assets.  Raising the price of fossil fuels will sharply increase the cost of flying, with negative consequences for the large manufacturers of airplanes and their subcontractors.  It will also increase the cost of gasoline, with negative consequences for automobile companies that produce gas guzzling cars.  Other major industries will also be affected, for example, the home building industry that specializes in large suburban homes, and the financial sector that has extended loans to firms in all these industries.

Thus, any serious attempt to rapidly force down fossil fuel use can be expected to negatively affect important sectors of the economy. Proposed Green New Deal investments and social policy initiatives will lay the foundation for a new economy, helping to boost employment and absorb some of the newly created excess capacity, but given the need for a speedy transformation to head off climate catastrophe, the process, if left unplanned, could easily end up dragging the economy down.

As difficult as this process appears, we do have historical experience to draw upon that can help us prepare for some of the challenges we can expect to face: the experience of World War II, when the US government was forced to initiate a rapid transformation of the US economy from civilian to military production.  New planning bodies were created to direct resources away from civilian use, retrain workers, encourage retooling of parts of the civilian economy to produce military goods and services, and direct massive investments to build new facilities to expand production or produce new goods needed for the war effort.  While far from a model to be recreated, advocates of a Green New Deal can learn much from studying the US war-time experience.

World War II planning

The shift to a war economy began gradually in 1939, some two years before the US actually entered the war. In June 1939, the Congress passed the Strategic and Critical Materials Stockpiling Act, which called for establishing reserves of strategic materials necessary for defense.  In August 1939, President Roosevelt established the War Resources Board to help the Joint Army and Navy Munitions Board develop plans for mobilizing the economic resources of the country in the event of war.

In June 1940, a National Roster of Scientific and Specialized Personnel was created.  In August 1940, the Defense Plant Corporation was created and charged with planning how to expand the nation’s ability to produce military equipment.  And in September 1940, the Congress approved the Selective Training and Service Act of 1940, which required all men between the ages of 21 and 45 to register for the draft.

In January 1941, President Roosevelt created the Office of Production Management to centralize all federal procurement programs concerned with the country’s preparation for war.  Shortly after the US entered the war, this office was replaced by the War Production Board (WPB), which was tasked with directing the conversion of industries from civilian to military work; the allocation of scare materials; and the establishment of priorities for the distribution of goods and services, including those to be rationed.

The conversion to a war economy, and the end of the depression, roughly dates to the second half of 1941, when defense spending sharply accelerated.  Federal spending on goods and services for national defense rose from 2.2 percent of GNP in 1940 to 11 percent of GNP in 1941. This was the last year that military-generated activity was compatible with growing civilian production. In 1942, military spending soared to 31 percent of GNP.  From then to the end of the war, civilian production was suppressed in order to secure the desired growth in military production.

For example, real consumer durable expenditures reached $24.7 billion (in 1972 dollars) or 6.2 percent of GNP in 1941.  The following year they fell to $16.3 billion or 3.6 percent of GNP.  Real personal consumption which grew by 6.2 percent in 1941, fell absolutely the following year.  Between 1940 and 1944, the total production of non-war goods and services fell from $180 billion to $164 billion (in 1950 dollars).  In contrast, real federal purchases of military commodities grew from $18 billion in 1941 to $88 billion in 1944 (in 1947 dollars), accounting for approximately one-half of all commodities produced that year.

No doubt, the high level of unemployment that existed at the start of the conversion made it easier to ramp up military production—but the military itself soon absorbed a large share of the male working age population.  Moreover, the challenge facing planners was not just that of ramping up production in a depressed economy, but of converting the economy to produce different goods, often in new locations.  This required the recruitment, training, and placement of millions of workers in accordance with ever changing industrial, occupational, and geographic requirements.

In the period of preparation for war, perhaps the biggest challenge was training.  It was largely met thanks to vocational training programs organized by the Employment Division.  These training programs made use of ongoing New Deal programs such as the Civilian Conservation Corps, Works Progress Administration, and National Youth Administration; the existing network of schools and colleges, and a Training-Within-Industry program.  Once the war began, the War Manpower Commission continued the effort.  Altogether, some 7 million people went through training programs, almost half through Training-Within-Industry programs.

The hard shift from a civilian driven economy into a military dominated one was, to a large degree, forced on the government by corporate concerns over future profitability.  In brief, most large corporations were reluctant to expand their productive capacity for fear that doing so would leave them vulnerable to a post-war collapse in demand and depression.  Among the most resistant were leading firms in the following industries: automobile, steel, oil, electric power, and railroads.  At the same time, these firms also opposed the establishment of government owned enterprises; they feared they might become post-war competitors or even worse, encourage popular interest in socialism.

Unwilling to challenge business leaders, the government took the path of least resistance—it agreed to support business efforts to convert their plant and equipment from civilian to military production; offer businesses engaged in defense work cost plus contracting; and suppress worker wages and their right to strike.  And, if the government did find it necessary to invest and establish new firms to produce critical goods, it agreed to allow private businesses to run them, with the option to purchase the new plant and its equipment at a discounted price at the war’s conclusion.  As a consequence, big business did quite well during the war and was well position to be highly profitable in the years following the end of the war.

Business reluctance to invest in expanding capacity, including in industries vital to the military, meant that the government had to develop a number of powerful new planning bodies to ensure that the limited output was allocated correctly and efficiently across the military-industrial supply chain.  For example, raw steel production grew only 8 percent from 1941 to the 1944 wartime peak.  Crude petroleum refining capacity grew only 12 percent between 1941 and 1945.  Leading firms in the auto industry were also reluctant to give up sales or engage in conversion to military production, initially claiming that no more than 15 percent of its machine tools were convertible.  But, once the war started and US planners regulated steel use, giving priority to military production, the auto industry did retool and produce a range of important military goods, including tanks, jeeps, trucks, and parts and subassemblies for the aircraft industry, including engines and propellers.

In many cases, corporate foot-dragging forced the government to establish its own production. Thus, while steel ingot capacity expanded by a modest 17 percent from 1940 to 1945, almost half of that increase came from government owned firms.  The role of government production was probably greatest in the case of synthetic rubber.  The US had relied on imports for some 90 percent of its supply of natural rubber, mostly from countries that fell under Japanese control.  Desperate for synthetic rubber to maintain critical civilian and military production, the government pursued a massive facility construction program. Almost all of the new capacity was financed and owned by the government and then leased to private operators for $1 per year. Thanks to this effort, synthetic rubber output rose from 22,434 long tons in 1942 to 753,111 long tons in 1944.  The Defense Plant Corporation ended up financing and owning approximately one-third of all the plant and equipment built during the war.

The War Production Board, created by presidential executive order in January 1942, was the country’s first major wartime planning agency.   Roosevelt choose Donald M. Nelson, a Sears Roebuck executive, to be its chairperson. Other members of the board were the Secretaries of War, Navy, and Agriculture, the lieutenant general in charge of War Department procurement, the director of the Office of Price Administration, the Federal Loan Administrator, the chair of the Board of Economic Warfare, and the special assistant to the President for the defense aid program.

The WPB managed twelve regional offices, and operated some one hundred twenty field offices throughout the country.  Their work was supported by state-level war production boards, which were responsible for keeping records on the firms engaged in war production in their respective states, including whether they operated under government contract.

However, despite its vast information gathering network, the WPB was never able to take command of the conversion of the economy. To some extent that was because Nelson proved to be a weak leader. But a more important reason was that the WPB had to contend with a number of other powerful agencies that were each authorized to direct the output of a specific critical industry.  The result was a kind of free-for-all when it came to developing and implementing a unified plan.

Perhaps the most powerful independent agency was the Army-Navy Munitions Board.  And early on the WPB ceded its authority over the awarding of military contracts to it. The Army and Navy awarded more contracts then could be fulfilled, creating problems in the supply chain as firms competed to obtain needed materials.  Turf fights among government agencies led to other problems. For example, the Office of Defense Transportation and the Petroleum Administration for War battled over who could decide petroleum requirements for transportation services.  And the Office of Price Administration fought the Solid Fuels Administration over who would control the rationing of coal.

A Bureau of the Budget history of the period captures some of the early chaos:

Locomotive plants went into tank production when locomotives were more necessary than tanks . . . Truck plants began to produce airplanes, a change that caused shortages of trucks later on . . . Merchant ships took steel from the Navy, and the landing craft cut into both. The Navy took aluminum from aircraft.  Rubber took valves from escort vessels, from petroleum, from the Navy.  The pipe-lines took steel from ships, new tools, and the railroads. And at every turn there were foreign demands to be met as well as requirements for new plants.

In response to the chaos, Roosevelt established another super agency in May 1943, the Office of War Mobilization (OWM).  This agency, headed by James F. Byrnes, a former politician and Supreme Court justice, was given authority over the WPB and the other agencies.  In fact, Byrnes’ authority was so great, he was often called the “assistant President.”

The OWM succeeded in installing a rigorous system of materials control and bringing order to the planning process.  As a result, civilian production was efficiently suppressed and military production steadily increased.  Over the period 1941 to 1945, the US was responsible for roughly 40 percent of the world’s production of weapons and supplies, and with little increase in the nation’s capital stock.

The experience highlighted above shows the effectiveness of planning, and that a contemporary economic conversion based on Green New Deal priorities, in which fossil fuel dependent industries are suppressed in favor of more sustainable economic activity, can be achieved.  It also shows that a successful transformation will require the creation of an integrated, multi-level system of planning, and that the process of transformation can be expected to generate challenges that will need to be handled with flexibility and patience.

World War II planning: cautionary lessons

The war-time conversion experience also holds two important cautionary lessons for a Green New Deal-inspired economic transformation.  The first is the need to remain vigilant against the expected attempt by big business to use the planning process to strengthen its hold on the economy.  If we are to achieve our goal of creating a sustainable, egalitarian, and solidaristic economy, we must ensure a dominant and ongoing role for public planning of economic activity and an expansive policy of public ownership, both taking over firms that prove resistant to the transformation and retaining ownership of newly created firms.

Unfortunately, the federal government was all too willing to allow big corporations to dominate the war-time conversion process as well as the peacetime reconversion, thereby helping them boost their profits and solidify their post-war economic domination.  For example, the Army and Navy routinely awarded their defense contracts to a very few large companies.  And these companies often chose other big companies as their prime subcontractors.  Small and medium sized firms also struggled to maintain their production of civilian goods because planning agencies often denied them access to needed materials.

Harold G. Vatter highlights the contract preference given to big firms during the war, noting that:

of $175 billion of primary contracts awarded between June 1940 and September 1944, over one-half went to the top 33 corporations (with size measured by value of primary supply contracts received). The smallest 94 percent of prime supply contract corporations (contracts of $9 million or less) got 10 percent of the value of all prime contracts in that period.

The same big firms disproportionally benefited from the reconversion process.  In October 1944, the OWM was converted into the Office of War Mobilization and Reconversion (OWMR), with Byrnes remaining as head.  The OWMR embraced its new role and moved quickly to achieve the reconversion of the economy.  It overcame opposition from the large military contractors, who were reluctant to give up their lucrative business, by granting them early authorization to begin production of civilian goods, thereby helping them dominate the emerging consumer markets.

The OWMR was also generous in its post-war distribution of government assets. The government, at war’s end, owned approximately $17 billion of plant and equipment.  These holdings, concentrated in the chemical, steel, aluminum, copper, shipbuilding, and aircraft industries, were estimated to be about 15 percent of the country’s total postwar plant capacity.  The government also owned “surplus” war property estimated to be worth some $50 and $70 billion.

Because of the way government wartime investment had been structured, there was little question about who would get the lion’s share of these public assets.  Most government owned plants were financed under terms specifying that the private firms operating them would be given the right to purchase them at war’s end if desired.  Thus, according to one specialist, roughly two-thirds of the $17 billion of government plant and equipment was sold to 87 large firms.  The “bulk of copolymer synthetic rubber plants went to the Big Four in rubber; large chemical plants were sold to the leading oil companies, and U.S. Steel received 71 percent of government-built integrated steel plants.”

The second cautionary lesson is the need to resist efforts by the government, justified in the name of efficiency, to minimize the role of unions, and working people more generally, in the planning and organization of the economic conversion. The only way to guarantee that a Green New Deal-inspired transformation will create an economy responsive to the needs of working people and their communities is to create institutional arrangements that secure popular participation in decision-making at all levels of economic activity.

While organized labor had at least an advisory role in prewar planning agencies, once the war began, it was quickly marginalized, and its repeated calls for more participation rejected.  For example, Sidney Hillman (head of the Amalgamated Clothing Workers) was appointed to be one of two chairs of the Office of Production Management, which was established in January 1941 to oversee federal efforts at national war preparation. The other was William S. Knudsen (president of General Motors).  The OPM also included a Labor Bureau, also led by Hillman, which was to advise it on labor recruitment, training, and mobilization issues, as well as Labor Advisory Committees attached to the various commodity and industry branches that reported to the OPM.

The labor presence was dropped from the War Production Board, which replaced the OPM in January 1942; Roosevelt appointed a businessman, Donald M. Nelson, to be its sole chair.  Hillman was appointed director of the board’s Labor Division, but that division was soon eliminated and its responsibilities transferred to the newly created War Manpower Commission in April 1942.

More generally, as organized labor found itself increasingly removed from key planning bodies, workers found themselves increasingly asked to accept growing sacrifices.  Prices began rising in 1940 and 1941 as the economy slowly recovered from the depression and began its transformation to war production.  In response, workers pushed for significant wage increases which the government, concerned about inflation, generally opposed.  In 1940, there were 2500 strikes producing 6.7 million labor-days idle.  The following year there were 4300 strikes with 23.1 million labor-days idle.

Hillman called for a national policy of real wage maintenance based on inflation indexing that would also allow the greatest wage gains to go to those who earned the least, but the government took no action.  As war mobilization continued, the government sought a number of concessions from the unions.  For example, it wanted workers to sacrifice their job rights, such as seniority, when they were transferred from nondefense to defense work.  Union leaders refused.  Union leaders also demanded, unsuccessfully, that military contracts not be given to firms found to violate labor laws.

Worried about disruptions to war production, Roosevelt established the War Labor Board by executive order in January 1942.  The board was given responsibility for stabilizing wages and resolving disputes between workers and managers at companies considered vital to the war effort. The board’s hard stand on wage increases was set in July, when it developed its so-called “Little Steel Formula.” Ruling in a case involving the United Steelworkers and the four so-called “Little Steel” companies, the board decided that although steelworkers deserved a raise, it had to be limited to the amount that would restore their real earnings to their prewar level, which they set as January 1, 1941.  Adding insult to injury, the board relied on a faulty price index that underestimated the true rate of inflation since the beginning of 1941.

Thus, while corporations were able to pursue higher profits, workers would have to postpone their “quest for an increasing share of the national income.”  Several months later, Roosevelt instructed the War Labor Board to use a similar formula, although with a different baseline, in all its future rulings.  Not surprisingly, the number of strikes continued to rise throughout the war years despite a December 1941 pledge by AFL and CIO leaders not to call strikes for the duration of the war.

In June 1943, with strikes continuing, especially in the coal fields, Congress passed the War Labor Disputes Act.  The act gave the president the power to seize and operate privately owned plants when an actual or threatened strike interfered with war production. Subsequent strikes in plants seized by the government were prohibited. The act was invoked more than 60 times during the war. The act also included a clause that made it illegal for unions to contribute to candidates for office in national elections, clearly an attempt to weaken labor’s political influence.

Although wage struggles drew most attention, union demands were far more expansive.  As Vatter describes:

Organized labor wanted wartime representation and participation in production decision-making at all levels, not merely the meaningless advisory role allotted to it during the preparedness period. But from the outset, management maintained a chronic hostile stance on the ground that management-labor industry councils such as proposed by Walter Reuther and CIO President Philip Murray in 1940 would, under cover of patriotism, undermine managements prerogatives and inaugurate a postwar “sovietization” of American industry.

Unions often pointed to the chaos of early planning, as captured by the Budget Bureau history, arguing that their active participation in production decisions would greatly improve overall efficiency.  The government’s lack of seriousness about union involvement is best illustrated by the WPB’s March 1942 decision to establish a special War Production Drive Division that was supposed to encourage the voluntary creation of labor-management plant committees.  However, the committees were only allowed to address specific physical production problems, not broader labor-management issues or production coordination across firms. Most large firms didn’t even bother creating committees.

Significantly, there was only one time that the government encouraged and supported popular participation in wartime decision-making, and that effort proved a great success.  Inflation was a constant concern of the government throughout the war years, largely because it was a trigger for strikes which threatened war time production.  The Office of Price Administration tried a variety of voluntary and bureaucratic controls to limit price increases on consumer goods and services, especially food, with little success.  Finally, beginning in mid-1943, and over the strong opposition of business, it welcomed popular participation in the operation of its price control system.

Tens of thousands of volunteers were formally authorized to visit retail locations throughout the country to monitor business compliance with the controls and tens of thousands of additional volunteers were chosen to serve on price boards that were empowered to fine retailers found in violation of the controls.  As a result, prices remained relatively stable from mid-1943 until early 1946 when the government abruptly ended the system of controls.  This was incredible achievement considering that the production of civilian goods and services declined over those years, while consumer purchasing power and the money supply rose.

 

Part II, on organizing and movement building lessons.

 

Climate Change, The Green New Deal, and the Struggle for Climate Justice

Most calls for a Green New Deal correctly emphasize that it must include a meaningful commitment to climate justice.  That is because climate change—for reasons of racism and capitalist profit-making—disproportionately punishes frontline communities, especially communities of color and low-income.

A 2020 published study on redlining (“the historical practice of refusing home loans or insurance to whole neighborhoods based on a racially motivated perception of safety for investment”) and urban heat islands helps to shed light on the process.  The authors of the study, Jeremy S. Hoffman, Vivek Shandas, and Nicholas Pendleton, examined temperature patterns in 108 US urban areas and found that 94 percent of them displayed “consistent city-scale patterns of elevated land surface temperatures in formerly redlined areas relative to their non-redlined neighbors by as much as 7 degrees Celsius (or 13 degrees Fahrenheit).”

As one of the authors explained in an interview:

“We found that those urban neighborhoods that were denied municipal services and support for home ownership during the mid-20th century now contain the hottest areas in almost every one of the 108 cities we studied,” Shandas said. “Our concern is that this systemic pattern suggests a woefully negligent planning system that hyper-privileged richer and whiter communities. As climate change brings hotter, more frequent and longer heat waves, the same historically underserved neighborhoods — often where lower-income households and communities of color still live — will, as a result, face the greatest impact.”

Urban heat islands

Climate scientists have long been aware of the existence of urban heat islands, localized areas of excessive land surface heat.  The urban heat island effect can cause temperatures to vary by as much as 10 degrees C within a single urban area.  As heat extremes become more common, and last longer, the number of associated illnesses and even deaths can be expected to rise.  Already, as Hoffman, Shandas, and Pendleton note,

extreme heat is the leading cause of summertime morbidity and has specific impacts on those communities with pre-existing health conditions (e.g., chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, asthma, cardiovascular disease, etc.), limited access to resources, and the elderly. Excess heat limits the human body’s ability to regulate its internal temperature, which can result in increased cases of heat cramps, heat exhaustion, and heatstroke and may exacerbate other nervous system, respiratory, cardiovascular, genitourinary, and diabetes-related conditions.

Studies have identified some clear causes for urban heat extremes—one is the density of impervious surface area; the greater the density, the hotter the land surface temperature.  The other is the tree canopy; the greater the canopy, the cooler the land surface temperature.  And as the three authors observe, “emerging research suggests that many of the hottest urban areas also tend to be inhabited by resource-limited residents and communities of color, underscoring the emerging lens of environmental justice as it relates to urban climate change and adaptation.” What their study helps us understand is that the process by which communities of color and poor came to live in areas with more impervious surface area and fewer green spaces was to a large degree the “result of racism and market forces.”

Racism and redlining

Racism in housing has a long history.  Kale Williams, writing in the Oregonian newspaper, highlights the Portland, Oregon history:

Exclusionary covenants, legal clauses written into property deeds, prohibited people of certain races, specifically African Americans and people of Asian descent, from purchasing homes. In 1919, the Portland Realty Board adopted a rule declaring it unethical to sell a home in a white neighborhood to an African American or Chinese person. The rules stayed in place until 1956.

In 1924, Portland voters approved the city’s first zoning policies. More than a dozen upscale neighborhoods were zoned for single-family homes. The policy, pushed by homeowners under the guise of protecting their property values, kept apartment buildings and multi-family homes, housing options more attainable for low-income residents, in less-desirable areas.

Portland was no isolated case; racism shaped national housing policy as well.  In 1933, Congress, as part of the New Deal, passed the Home Owners’ Loan Act, which established the Home Owners’ Loan Corporation (HOLC).  The purpose of the HOLC was to help homeowners refinance mortgages currently in default to prevent foreclosure and, of course, reduce stress on the financial system. It did that by issuing bonds, using the funds to purchase housing loans from lenders, and then refinancing the original mortgages, offering homeowners easier terms.

Between 1935 and 1940, the HOLC drew residential “security” maps for 239 cities across the United States.  These maps were made to access the long-term value of real estate now owned by the Federal Government and the health of the banking industry. They were based on input from local appraisers and neighborhood surveys, and neighborhood demographics.

As Hoffman, Shandas, and Pendleton describe, the HOLC:

created color-coded residential maps of 239 individual US cities with populations over 40,000. HOLC maps distinguished neighborhoods that were considered “best” and “hazardous” for real estate investments (largely based on racial makeup), the latter of which was outlined in red, leading to the term “redlining.” These “Residential Security” maps reflect one of four categories ranging from “Best” (A, outlined in green), “Still Desirable” (B, outlined in blue), “Definitely Declining” (C, outlined in yellow), to “Hazardous” (D, outlined in red).

This identification of problem neighborhoods with the racial makeup of the neighborhood was no accident.  And because the maps were widely distributed to other government bodies and private financial institutions, they served to guide private mortgage lending as well as government urban planning in the years that followed.  Areas outlined in red were almost always majority African-American.  And as a consequence of the rating system, those who lived in them had more difficulty getting home loans or upgrading their existing homes. Redlined neighborhoods were also targeted as prime locations for development of multi-unit buildings, industrial use, and freeway construction.

As expected, a 2019 paper by three researchers with the Chicago Federal Reserve Bank found:

a significant and persistent causal effect of the HOLC maps on the racial composition and housing development of urban neighborhoods. These patterns are consistent with the hypothesis that the maps led to reduced credit access and higher borrowing costs which, in turn, contributed to disinvestment in poor urban American neighborhoods with long-run repercussions.

What Hoffman, Shandas, and Pendleton establish in their paper is that this racially influenced mapping has also had real climate consequences.  Urban heat islands are not just randomly distributed through an urban area—they are more often than not located in redlined areas.  And those extra degrees of heat have real health and financial consequences. As Hoffman explains, the impact on residents of those heat islands is serious and wide-ranging:

“They are not only experiencing hotter heat waves with their associated health risks but also potentially suffering from higher energy bills, limited access to green spaces that alleviate stress and limited economic mobility at the same time,” Hoffman said. “Our study is just the first step in identifying a roadmap toward equitable climate resilience by addressing these systemic patterns in our cities.”

Redlining and climate change

Hoffman, Shandas, and Pendleton condensed the 239 HOLC maps into a database of 108 US cities.  They excluded cities that were not mapped with all four HOLC security rating categories and in some cases had to remove overlapping security rating boundaries, or merge them because they were drawn in different years.  The map below shows the location of the 108 cities.

They then used land surface temperature (LST) maps generated in summer months between 2014 and 2017 to estimate land surface temperatures in all four color-coded neighborhoods in each of these 108 cities to determine whether there was a relationship between LST and neighborhood rating in each city.

They found that present-day temperatures were noticeably higher in D-rated areas relative to A-rated areas in approximately 94 percent of the 108 cities.  The results are illustrated below. Figure a shows the LST difference between ranked neighborhoods for the country as a whole.  The four other figures do the same for each designated region of the country.

Portland, Oregon and Denver, Colorado had the greatest D to A temperature differences, with their D-rated areas some 7 degrees Celsius warmer than their A-rated areas (or some 13 degrees warmer in Fahrenheit).  For the nation as a whole, D-rated areas are now on average 2.6 degrees Celsius warmer than A-rated areas. Thus, as the authors note, “current maps of intra-urban heat echo the legacy of past planning policies.”   Moreover,

indicators of and/or higher intra-urban LSTs have been shown to correlate with higher summertime energy use, and excess mortality and morbidity. The fact that residents living in formerly redlined areas may face higher financial burdens due to higher energy and more frequent health bills further exacerbates the long-term and historical inequities of present and future climate change.

As this study so clearly shows, we are not all in the same boat when it comes to climate change; racial and class dimensions matter.  The poor and people of color are disproportionately suffering the most from global warming largely because of the way racism and profit-making combined to shape urbanization in the United States.  But this is only one example.  A transformative Green New Deal must bring to light the ways in which this dynamic has shaped countless other processes and embrace and support the struggles of frontline communities, economic and climate.

Another sign of the deepening social crisis: The decline in US life expectancy

US life expectancy is on the decline, falling from 2014 to 2017—the first years of decline in life expectancy in over twenty years.  And according to Steven H. Woolf and Heidi Schoomaker, authors of the recently published “Life Expectancy and Mortality Rates in the United States, 1959-2017” in the Journal of the American Medical Association, “A major contributor has been an increase in mortality from specific causes (e.g., drug overdoses, suicides, organ system diseases) among young and middle-aged adults of all racial groups, with an onset as early as the 1990s and with the largest relative increases occurring in the Ohio Valley and New England.”

Declining life expectancy

In 1960, the US had the highest life expectancy of any country in the world.  By 2017 US life expectancy significantly trailed that of other comparable countries, as illustrated below.

In 1980, the difference between average life expectancy in the US and that of comparable countries was not large–73.7 years versus 74.5 years.  However, as we can see in the next figure, the gap steadily grew over the following years.  The US gained 4.9 years in average life expectancy from 1980 to 2017; comparable countries gained 7.8 years on average.

As researchers for the Kaiser Family Foundation point out, “The U.S. and most comparable countries experienced a slight decline in life expectancy in 2015. By 2016, life expectancy for these comparable countries rebounded to pre-2015 numbers, but in the US, such a bounce back did not occur.”  After averaging 78.9 years in 2014, averaged life expectancy in the US fell to 78.7 years in both 2015 and 2016, and then dropped again in 2017 to 78.6 years. These declines mark the first decreases in US life expectancy in more than 20 years.

Moreover, this growing gap and outright decline in average life expectancy holds for both US males and females, as we see from the following figure.

The growing social crisis

Woolf and Schoomaker drew upon 50 years’ worth of data from the US Mortality Database and the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s WONDER database in an attempt to explain why US life expectancy has not kept pace with that of other wealthy countries and is now falling.  Their primary finding, as noted above, is that US life expectancy is being dragged down by “an increase in mortality from specific causes (eg, drug overdoses, suicides, organ system diseases) among young and middle-aged adults of all racial groups.”

More specifically, while over the period 1999-2017, infant mortality, mortality rates among children and early adolescents (1-14 years of age), and age-adjusted mortality rates among adults 65-84 all declined, individuals aged 25-64 “experienced retrogression” beginning in 2010, as we can see in the following figures taken from their article.  Between 2010 and 2017, these midlife adults experienced a 6 percent total increase in mortality rate. This increase overwhelmed gains experienced by the other age cohorts, dragging down overall US average life expectancy.

Woolf and Schoomaker concluded that there were multiple causes for this rise in mortality rates among individuals 25-64.  However, they highlighted drug overdose, alcohol abuse and suicide as among the most important.  This age cohort experienced a nearly four-fold increase in fatal drug overdoses between 1999 and 2017.  Their suicide rates went up nearly 40 percent over the same period. The rate of alcohol-related disease deaths soared by almost 160 percent for those 25-34 years.

In an interview with BusinessInsider, Woolf wrestled with why the country is experiencing such a dramatic rise in mortality rates among young and middle aged adults. “It’s a quandary of why this is happening when we spend so much on healthcare,” Woolf said, adding: “But my betting money is on the economy.”

That seems like a pretty safe answer.  It also raises the question: how do we help working people understand the increasingly toxic nature of the workings of the US economy and build the ties of solidarity necessary to advance the struggle for system transformation.

Flying Above the Clouds: the US Military and Climate Change

Climate change is occurring, highlighted by dramatically shifting weather patterns and ever more deadly storms, floods, droughts, and wildfires.  And the evidence is overwhelming that it is driven by the steady increase in greenhouse gases in our atmosphere, especially carbon dioxide and methane, produced by our fossil fuel-based economic system.

Aware of global warming’s deadly human consequences, millions of people have taken to the streets to demand that governments take action to end our use of fossil fuels as part of a massive system-wide economic transformation that would also be designed to ensure a just transition for all communities and workers.

As movements here in the US take aim at the fossil fuel industry and government leaders that continue to resist efforts to promote more sustainable and egalitarian forms of energy generation and distribution, transportation, agriculture, and housing, the largest generator of greenhouse gas emissions continues to fly above the clouds and largely out of public view.  As Neta Crawford, Co-Director of Brown University’s Costs of War Project, states in her recently published study of Pentagon fuel use and climate change, “the Department of Defense is the world’s largest institutional user of petroleum and correspondingly, the single largest producer of greenhouse gases in the world.”

Flying above the clouds

We know that we have an enormous military budget.  US military spending is greater than the total military spending of the next seven countries combined: China, Saudi Arabia, India, France, Russia, United Kingdom, and Germany.  The budget of the Department of Defense alone commands more than half of all US federal discretionary spending each year.  Add in spending on national security activities and weapons included in other departmental budgets, like that of the Department of Energy, and the military’s budget share approaches two-thirds of all discretionary spending.

This kind of information is readily available.  The US military’s contribution to global warming is not.  One reason is that because of US government pressure, the governments negotiating the Kyoto Protocol agreed that emissions generated by military activity would not count as national emissions and would not have to be reported.  That exemption remained in the agreement even though the US government never signed-on to the Kyoto Protocol.  Perhaps as a consequence, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change also does not include national military emissions in its calculations.  Although the Paris Accord removed the exemption, the US government is committed to withdrawing from the agreement in 2020.

Uncovering the carbon costs of the US military

Although the US military does not publicly disclose its fuel use, four researchers—Oliver Belcher, Benjamin Neimark, Patrick Bigger, and Cara Kennelly—using  multiple Freedom of Information Act requests to the US Defense Logistics Agency, have recently published an article that provides a good estimate.

The Defense Logistics Agency (DLA) is charged with overseeing the supply chain that supports all military activities, including its warfighting, peacekeeping, and base operations.  The Defense Logistics Agency–Energy (DLA-E), a unit within the DLA, has responsibility for managing the military’s energy requirements.  In the words of Belcher, Neimark, Bigger, and Kennelly, “the DLA-E is the one-stop shop for fueling purchases and contracts within the US military both domestically and internationally, and acts as the US military’s internal market for all consumables, including fuel.”

In simple terms, the military needs fuel—to fly its jets and bombers on surveillance or attack missions, to deliver troops and weapons to bases and areas of conflict, to power ships on maneuvers, to run the vehicles used by patrols and fighting forces, and to maintain base operations here and around the world. And because it is the DLA-E that secures and distributes the required fuel, the four researchers used “Freedom of Information Act requests to compile a database of DLA-E records for all known land, sea, and aircraft fuel purchases, as well as fuel contracts made with US operators in military posts, camps, stations, and ship bunkers abroad from FY 2013 to 2017.”  The resulting calculation of total fuel purchases and use served as the basis for the authors’ estimate of the military’s production of greenhouse gas emissions.

The US military runs on fuel

The fuel dependence of the US military has dramatically grown over time, largely as a consequence of the nature of its continually evolving weapons systems and warfighting strategies.  For example, average fuel use, by soldier, grew from one gallon a day during World War II, to nine gallons a day by the end of the Vietnam War, to 22 gallons a day in the wars currently being fought in Afghanistan and Iraq.

One reason for this upward trajectory is that the US military has come to depend ever more on airpower to directly threaten or attack its enemies as well as support its heavily armored ground forces operating in foreign countries. As Crawford explains, the US military consumes so much energy because “its fighting ‘tooth’ employs equipment that guzzles fuel at an incredible rate . . . [and its] logistical ‘tail’ and the installations that support operations are also extremely fuel intensive.”

For example, Crawford reports that the fuel consumption of a B-2 Bomber is 4.28 gallons to the mile.  Read that carefully–that is gallons to the mile, not the more common miles to the gallon.  The fuel consumption of a F-35A Fighter bomber is 2.37 gallons to the mile, while it is 4.9 miles to the gallon for a KC-135R Refueling Tanker (loaded with transfer fuel).  “Even the military’s non-armored vehicles are notoriously inefficient. For instance, the approximately 60,000 HUMVEEs remaining in the US Army fleet get between four to eight miles per gallon of diesel fuel.”

Needless to say, an active military will burn through a lot of fuel.  And as Belcher, Neimark, Bigger, and Kennelly point out, the US military has indeed been busy: “Between 2015 and 2017, the US military was active in 76 countries, including seven countries on the receiving end of air/drone strikes, 15 countries with ‘boots on the ground,’ 44 overseas military bases, and 56 countries receiving counter-terrorism training.”

The carbon footprint of the US military

Belcher, Neimark, Bigger, and Kennelly determined that “the US military consumes more liquid fuels and emits more CO2e (carbon-Dioxide equivalent) than many medium-sized countries.”  Comparing 2014 country liquid fuel consumption with US military liquid fuel consumption revealed that the US military, if treated as a country, would rank between Peru and Portugal.  The US military’s 2014 greenhouse gas emissions, just from its use of fuel, was roughly equal “to total–not just fuel-–emissions from Romania.”  That year, the US military, again just from its fuel use, was the 47th largest emitter of greenhouse gases in the world, and not far behind a host of other countries.

The US military’s ranking would be higher if its other emissions were included, such as from the electricity and food the military consumes, or the land use changes from military operations.  And of course, none of this includes the emissions from the many corporations engaged in producing weapons for the military. In 2017, the US military purchased about 269,230 barrels of oil a day and emitted 25,375.8 kt-CO2e by burning those fuels.

One reason that the US military is such a large greenhouse gas emitter is that most of its fuel is jet fuel procured for use by the Air Force or Navy.  Their planes burn the fuel at extremely high altitudes, which “produces different kinds of chemical reactions, resulting in warming 2–4 times greater than on the ground.”

The military’s response to climate change

The military is well aware of the dangers of climate change—in contrast to many of our leading politicians.  One reason is that it threatens its operational readiness. As Crawford explains:

In early 2018, the DOD reported that about half of their installations had already experienced climate change related effects. A year later, the DOD reported that the US military is already experiencing the effects of global warming at dozens of installations. These include recurrent flooding (53 installations), drought (43 installations), wildfires (36 installations) and desertification (6 installations).

But most importantly, the military sees climate change as a threat to US national security.  For years, the military has considered the impact of climate change in its defense planning because, as a recent report from the Office of the Director of National Intelligence puts it, “global environmental and ecological degradation, as well as climate change, are likely to fuel competition for resources, economic distress, and social discontent through 2019 and beyond.”  Of course, in planning responses to possible climate-generated threats to US interests, the military remains committed to strengthening its capacity for action, even though doing so adds to the likelihood of greater climate chaos.

In short, people are right to demand that governments take meaningful and immediate steps to stop global warning.  And those steps need to include significant reductions in military spending as well as overseas bases and interventions.  Since the US military is the single largest producer of greenhouse gases in the world, the fight to reign in militarism in this country is especially important.  As an added benefit, the money freed could be put to good use helping to finance the broader system-wide transformation required to create an ecologically responsive economy.

What the New Deal can teach us about winning a Green New Deal: Part V—summing up the New Deal experience

Growing awareness of our ever-worsening climate crisis has boosted the popularity of movements calling for a Green New Deal.  At present, the Green New Deal is a big tent idea, grounded to some extent by its identification with the original New Deal and emphasis on the need for strong state action to initiate social-system change on a massive scale.  Challenges abound for Green New Deal activists.  Among the many, how to:

  • create supportive working relationships between the different movements currently pushing for a Green New Deal
  • develop a sharper, shared vision of the aims of a Green New Deal
  • increase popular support for those aims as well as participation in those movements
  • build sufficient political power to force a change in state policy along lines favorable to the Green New Deal
  • ensure that the resulting trajectory of change strengthens the broader struggle to achieve a socially just and ecologically sustainable political-economy

While there are great differences between the crises and political movements and possibilities of the 1930s and now, there are also important lessons that can be learned from the efforts of activists to build mass movements for social transformation during the Great Depression.  My aim in this series, including in this fifth and last post, is to illuminate the challenges faced and choices made by these activists in order to draw out some of the relevant lessons.

In previous posts I argued that the despite the severity of the Great Depression, it took sustained, left-led, mass organizing and actions to force the federal government to accept responsibility for improving economic conditions.  Unfortunately, First New Deal relief and job creation policies were inadequate, far from what the growing movement of unemployed demanded or was needed to meet majority needs.  However, continued mass activity by the unemployed, those on relief, and those employed eventually forced the Roosevelt administration to undertake a Second New Deal, which included its widely praised programs for public works (WPA), social security (Social Security Act), and union rights (National Labor Relations Act).

These Second New Deal programs were unprecedented and did improve conditions for working people.  But, as I argue in this final post, both the WPA and the Social Security Act again fell short of the transformative changes demanded by activists.  And while the NLRA did offer workers important legal protections that made it safer for them to unionize their workplaces, its effect was to encourage a top-down system of labor-management relations that suppressed rank and file activism and class consciousness. Thus, despite their pathbreaking nature, these programs were far from revolutionary.  Rather they were designed to ameliorate the suffering caused by capitalism’s crisis without threatening capitalist control over economic activity.

Tragically, changes in the political and economic environment, as well as strategic choices made by the left in response to those changes led to the weakening of popular movements, leaving them unable to push the Roosevelt administration into yet a Third New Deal.  As a result, the upsurge of the 1930s failed to advance the socialist-inspired transformation that motivated many of its participants. In the end, it proved only able to force the state to adopt policies that reformed the workings of the system, a not inconsiderable achievement, but one that still left working people vulnerable to the vicissitudes of capitalism.  Hopefully, a careful study of the New Deal experience will help Green New Deal activists build movements able to avoid the trap of limited reform while fighting for the massive, interconnected, and empowering social-system change we so desperately need.

The Second New Deal

It is easy to understand why supporters of a Green New Deal look to the New Deal as a touchstone.  Growing numbers of people have come to the conclusion that our problems are too big to be solved by individual or local efforts alone, and that once again innovative and transformative state-led actions will be needed to solve them.  Quite simply, the New Deal experience inspires people to believe in the possibility of a Green New Deal.

When people talk about the innovative and transformative policies of the New Deal they normally mean the core policies of the Second New Deal: the WPA, the Social Security Act, and the National Labor Relations Act.  As innovative as these policies were, they were, as discussed in Part IV, largely forced on the Roosevelt Administration by left-led mass movements.  And, as we see next, they were, by design, meant to blunt more radical demands for change.  In short, they were important reforms, but no more than reforms, and as such offered only partial solutions to the problems of the time.  Sadly, workers today continue to suffer from their limitations.

Works Progress Administration

One of the most important Second New Deal programs was the Works Progress Administration (WPA). Established in May 1935, it employed millions of unemployed to carry out public projects such as construction of public buildings and roads.  Federal Project Number One, a much smaller program that also operated under the WPA umbrella, employed musicians, artists, writers, actors and directors in large arts, drama, media, and literacy projects. These included the Federal Writers’ Project, the Federal Theatre Project, the Federal Music Project, and the Federal Art Project.

Roosevelt’s decision to replace the Federal Emergency Relief Administration (FERA) with the WPA was a clear sign that he recognized that his First New Deal employment and relief programs — FERA and the Civil Works Administration (CWA) — had done little to satisfy fast growing left-led unemployed movements that were demanding a federal jobs program under which unemployed workers would be directly put to work, at union wages, producing a wide range of needed goods and services.

FERA had provided loans and grants to states which then offered relief work to those that qualified for relief.  As discussed in Part III, the program required workers to submit to demeaning financial investigations, often paid those chosen for relief with coupons that could only be redeemed for select food items, made no attempt to match worker skills with jobs, and often employed those on relief in make-work tasks.  While FERA marked the first direct federal support for relief and enabled states to greatly expand their relief rolls, it also required states to provide matching funds to receive FERA money.  Limited state resources meant that relief covered only about one-third of those unemployed.

CWA was a far more popular program, most importantly because it involved direct federal employment, had no relief requirement, paid relatively well, and sought to match workers’ skills with jobs.  However, it was, by design, a short-term program that lasted only 6 months, with most employment creation ending after 4 months.

The WPA was a federal program that operated its own projects in cooperation with state and local governments, which were required to cover some 10 to 30 percent of their costs.  In some cases, the WPA took over ongoing FERA state and local relief programs.  But, despite its impressive accomplishments, it also fell short of movement demands.

Although the WPA combined elements of both FERA and the CWA, it was far more like the former than the latter. For example, in contrast to the CWA, participation in WPA projects required a state means test.  Thus, unemployment alone was not enough to qualify a person for the program.  Moreover, as under FERA, participants were subject to demeaning monitoring of their spending habits and living conditions.

Again. unlike the CWA, little effort was made to match workers’ skills with jobs.  Workers were divided into two broad categories of skilled and unskilled.  The unskilled were assigned construction jobs even if they had no construction experience.  The skilled were assigned a variety of writing or teaching jobs regardless of whether they had experience in those areas.  The program did pay market wages.  However, limits were put on maximum allowable hours of weekly employment in addition to an overall limit on total earnings.

WPA employment opportunities were also limited.  Its average monthly employment was approximately 3 million workers.  The CWA, at its peak, employed over 4 million a month.  The WPA, like FERA, employed only about one-third of the unemployed.  Moreover, because of unstable program financing, even those employed by the WPA would sometimes suffer layoffs.

The unemployed movement wanted a permanent federal employment program that would guarantee full employment.  And they wanted that program to employ people to produce needed goods and services as a direct counter to private production.  This was far from the vision of the Roosevelt administration.  As Harry Hopkins, chief administrator of the WPA, explained:

Policy from the first was not to compete with private business. Hence we could neither work on private property, set up a rival merchandising system, nor form a work outlet through manufacturing, even though manufacturing had contributed to relief rolls hundreds of thousands of workers accustomed to operating machines and to doing nothing else for a living.

Operating under these limits, the WPA had little choice but to focus its efforts on the construction of public buildings and roads.  Post offices accounted for close to half of the more than 3000 public buildings constructed.

Moreover, despite its limitations, the unemployed had to fight to sustain the program.  Congress decided to provide funds for the program one year at a time.  Sometimes allocations fell short of planned spending, resulting in layoffs.   Other times, militant demonstrations by an alliance of unemployed groups forced Congress into making supplemental appropriations.

The number of public works projects and WPA participants began a steady decline in 1939.  The next year the Roosevelt administration decided to reorient program activity to projects of direct use to the military, including construction of base housing and military airfields as well as expansion of naval yards. The WPA was quietly terminated in 1943, with unemployment problems seemingly solved thanks to the demands of wartime production.  Sadly, the unemployed never developed the political weight or broader social movement needed to push the government into embracing a more expansive and ongoing program of national planning and public production.

The Social Security Act

The Social Security Act is widely considered to be the New Deal’s crown jewel.  According to his Secretary of Labor, “[President Roosevelt] always regarded the Social Security Act as the cornerstone of his administration . . . and . . . took greater satisfaction from it than from anything else he achieved on the domestic front.”

Roosevelt appointed a Committee on Economic Security in July 1934 with the charge to develop a social security bill that he could present to Congress in January 1935 that would include provisions for both unemployment insurance and old-age security.  An administration approved bill was in fact introduced in January and Roosevelt called for quick Congressional action.  The bill was revised in April by a House committee and given a new name, “The Social Security Act.”  After additional revisions the Social Security Act was approved by overwhelming majorities in both Houses of Congress, and the legislation was signed by the President on August 14, 1935.

The Social Security Act was a complex piece of legislation.  It included what we now call Social Security, a federal old-age benefit program; a program of unemployment benefits administered by the states, and a program of federal grants to states to fund benefits for the needy elderly and aid to dependent children.  It was a cautious beginning, as explained by Edwin E. Witte, the Executive Director and Secretary of the President’s Committee on Economic Security:

Because we were in the midst of a deep depression, the Administration and Congress were very anxious to avoid placing too great burdens on business and also to avoid adding to Government deficits. It was these considerations that resulted in the low beginning social security tax rates and the step-plan of the introduction of both old-age and unemployment insurance and also in the establishment of completely self-financed social insurance programs, without Government contributions–to this day a distinctive feature of social insurance in this country.

Before examining the way Roosevelt’s concerns for the well-being of business placed limits on the timeliness, coverage, and support provided by these programs, it is important to recognize that, as with the WPA, Roosevelt’s commitment to social security was a response to the efforts of the Communist Party (CP), which authored a far more progressive bill, one that would have significantly shifted the balance of class power towards workers.

The CP began pushing its Workers Unemployment Insurance Bill in the summer of 1930, and it, as well as the Unemployment Councils, worked hard to promote it over the following years.  On March 4, 1933, the day of Roosevelt’s inauguration, they organized demonstrations stressing the need for action on unemployment insurance.

Undeterred by Roosevelt’s lack of action, the CP authored a bill–the Workers Unemployment and Social Insurance Bill–that was introduced in Congress in February 1934 by Representative Ernest Lundeen of the Farmer-Labor Party.  In broad brush, as Chris Wright summarizes, the bill:

provided for unemployment insurance for workers and farmers (regardless of age, sex, or race) that was to be equal to average local wages but no less than $10 per week plus $3 for each dependent; people compelled to work part-time (because of inability to find full-time jobs) were to receive the difference between their earnings and the average local full-time wages; commissions directly elected by members of workers’ and farmers’ organizations were to administer the system; social insurance would be given to the sick and elderly, and maternity benefits would be paid eight weeks before and eight weeks after birth; and the system would be financed by unappropriated funds in the Treasury and by taxes on inheritances, gifts, and individual and corporate incomes above $5,000 a year. Later iterations of the bill went into greater detail on how the system would be financed and managed.

Not surprisingly, the bill enjoyed strong support among workers, employed and unemployed.  Thanks to the efforts of unemployed and union activists it was soon endorsed by 5 international unions, 35 central labor bodies, and more than 3000 local unions.  Rank and file worker committees also formed across the country to pressure members of Congress to pass it.

When Congress refused to act on the bill, Lundeen reintroduced it in January 1935. Because of public pressure, the bill became the first unemployment insurance plan in US history to be recommended by a congressional committee, in this case the House Labor Committee.  It was voted down in the full House of Representatives, 204 to 52.

Roosevelt strongly opposed the Lundeen bill and it was to provide a counter that he established his Committee on Economic Security in July 1934 and pressed Congress to approve the resulting Social Security Act as quickly as possible.  Roosevelt’s Social Security Act fell far short of what the Workers Unemployment and Social Insurance Bill offered, and it was strongly opposed by movement activists and organizations of the unemployed.

The part of the bill that established what we now call Social Security suffered from five main weaknesses.  First, it was to be self-financing because of administration fears of deficit spending, a decision which placed downward pressure on benefit levels.  Second, it was to be financed by contributions from both workers and employers.  Thus, workers had to shoulder half the costs of the program.

Third, the system was not universal.  The act covered only workers in commerce and industry, about half the jobs in the economy.  Among those left out were farm and domestic workers.

Fourth, the act provided for monthly retirement benefits payable only to the primary worker in a family when they retired at age 65 or older. Moreover, the amount received depended on the value of wages earned in covered employment starting in 1937.

Finally, the act mandated that monthly benefit payments would not begin until 1942.  A 1939 amendment did allow benefit payments to begin in 1940 and added child, spouse, and survivor benefits to the authorized retirement benefits.

In sum, this was a program that offered too little, too late, and to too few people.  And while improvements were made over the years, the current system pales in comparison to the kind of security and humane retirement workers would have enjoyed if the workers’ movement had been powerful enough to secure passage of its preferred bill.

The unemployment system established as part of the Social Security Act was also structured in ways unfavorable to workers compared with the proposed benefits of the Workers Unemployment and Social Insurance Bill.  Rather than set up a comprehensive national system of unemployment compensation, as workers desired, the act established a federal-state cooperative system that gave states wide latitude in determining standards.

More specifically, the act levied a uniform national pay-roll tax of 1 percent in 1936, 2 percent in 1937, and 3 percent in 1938, on covered employers, defined as those employers with eight or more employees for at least twenty weeks, not including government employers and employers in agriculture.  Only workers employed by a covered employer could receive benefits.

Covered employers were given a federal credit on up to 90 percent of the tax if they paid their credit amount into a certified state unemployment compensation fund.  The act left it to the states to decide whether to enact their own plans, and if so, to determine eligibility conditions, the waiting period to receive benefits, benefit amounts, minimum and maximum benefit levels, duration of benefits, disqualifications, and other administrative matters. It was not until 1937 that programs were established in every state as well as the then-territories of Alaska and Hawaii.  And it was not until 1938 that most began paying benefits.

In the early years, most states required eligible workers to wait 2 to 4 weeks before drawing benefits, which were commonly set at half recent earnings (subject to weekly maximums) for a period ranging from 12 to 16 weeks. Ten state laws called for employee contributions as well as employer contributions.

Just like with social security, over the following years the program was expanded in a number of positive ways, including by expanding coverage and benefits.  However, the unemployment program established by the Social Security Act fell far short of the universal, progressively funded social safety net that workers were demanding.

The National Labor Relations Act

In the spring of 1934, Senator Robert Wagner introduced a bill to establish a new labor relations board that, unlike the one established by the First New Deal’s National Industrial Recovery Act (NIRA), would have enforcement authority.  Few in Congress supported the bill; President Roosevelt also opposed it.

Wagner reintroduced a revised version of his bill a year later and to a dramatically different outcome.  In May 1935 it received unanimous support in the Senate Labor Committee, followed by strong support in both the Senate and House.  As reported by the editors of Who Built America?, President Roosevelt remained opposed to the bill up until the very end:

“It ought to be on the record,” his labor secretary noted, that the bill was “not a part of the President’s program.  It did not particularly appeal to him when it was described to him.”  But when the US Supreme Court struck down the NIRA in May and Wagner’s National Labor Relations bill was passed by one house of Congress, FDR finally endorsed the bill.

In broad brush, the National Labor Relations Act established a set of laws and regulations designed to guarantee the right of private sector workers to peacefully organize into trade unions of their choosing and engage in collective bargaining and actions such as strikes.  The act also created the National Labor Relations Board to organize and oversee the process by which workers decide on whether to join a union as well as determine whether collective bargaining agreements are being fairly bargained and enforced.

The turnaround in support for the NLRA owes much to the growing militancy of workers, and the threat that this militancy posed to the established order.  Section 7a of the NIRA had promised workers that they would “have the right to organize and bargain collectively through representatives of their own choosing . . . free from the interference, restraint, or coercion of employers.”  Unfortunately, with no mechanism to ensure that workers would be able to exercise this right, after a short period of successful union organizing, companies began violently repressing genuine union activity. By 1935, growing numbers of workers were calling the National Recovery Administration (NRA), which had been established to oversee the NIRA, the National Run Around.

However, it was not the corporate campaign of violence directed against workers that was the catalyst for the change in government policy.  Rather it was the explosion of powerful left-led worker victories in three major labor struggles in early 1934.  The first was in Toledo, Ohio, where American Workers’ Party sponsored unemployed organizations joined with striking auto workers seeking to unionize a major auto parts manufacturer.  The workers battled special deputies and National Guard troops for weeks, maintaining an effective strike.  Fearful of the possibility of an even larger strike, the Roosevelt administration finally sent federal mediators to Toledo, forcing the company to recognize the union and agree to significant wage increases.

At almost the same time, an even bigger struggle began in Minneapolis. A Trotskyist-led Teamster local, fighting to unionize a number of trucking and warehouse companies, effectively shut down commercial transport in the city.  Days of violence followed as police and special deputies tried to break the strike.  Faced with a growing threat of a general strike, federal mediators again were forced to intervene, and again forced the employers to recognize the union.

A general strike did take place in San Francisco.  Led by Communist and other radical rank and file activists, San Francisco longshoremen rejected a secretly negotiated deal between the national leadership of the International Longshoremen’s Association and the waterfront employers.  Their strike was quickly joined by dockworkers in every other West Coast port as well as many sailors and waterfront truckers.

Police attempts to break the San Francisco strike led to a full-scale battle and the death of two strikers by police on what became known as Bloody Thursday.  In response, the labor movement declared a general strike.  Some 150,000 workers went out, essentially bringing San Francisco, Oakland, Berkeley and other nearby municipalities, to a halt.  Again, federal intervention was required to bring the strike to a halt, with a victory for the workers.

These struggles, all with important left leadership, showed a dramatic growth in worker militancy, solidarity, and radicalism that sent shock waves throughout the corporate community as well as the government.  And it was to head off the further radicalization of the labor movement that the Congress and Roosevelt agreed to support the NLRA and its mechanisms to regularize the unionization process.  In the words of Steve Fraser:

The Wagner Act helped institutionalize a form of industrial democracy that steered clear of any frontal assault on the underlying political economy. It legitimated collective bargaining, imposed responsibilities on both management and trade union officialdom, and worked to establish peace on the shop floor.

Union leaders were to police their members, instilling a disciplined commitment to the terms of the contract. Control of life on the shop-floor remained with management. Militants who thought otherwise were soon enough reigned in. The much-maligned (not without cause) trade union bureaucracy was, after all, the fruit of a mass movement, an institution, created where there had been nothing, the slowly solidified residue of fiery desires.

For a few years, it appeared that worker militancy, a willingness to directly challenge corporate rights with no concern for issues of legality, would continue despite the NLRB’s existence.  For example, in early 1936 rubber workers in Akron, Ohio disregarded both union leadership and a court injunction to surround the eleven-mile perimeter of a Goodyear plant with pickets.  They shut down the plant in protest over recent wage cuts and layoffs of activists and rejected federal attempts at mediation.  When word came that the sheriff might come with armed deputies to open the plat, the strikers armed themselves.  Finally, after four weeks, Goodyear settled, agreeing to reinstate the fired workers, reduce the workweek, and recognize the authority of union shop committees.

Not long after, inspired by the rubber workers, auto workers began staging walk-outs and strikes at several different Chrysler and GM plants over firings and unionization.  The biggest action came at the end of 1936 with the Flint sit-down strike.  The workers held the plant for 44 days, during which time they fought off attempts by armed police to evict them and ignored injunctions issued by the courts demanding that they leave.  In the end GM agreed to recognize the UAW as the exclusive bargaining representative for all GM workers.

The number of strikes grew dramatically from 2,014 in 1935 to 4,740 in 1937, with workers increasingly winning unionization not through the machinery of the NLRA, but through direct action.  For example, the number of sit-down strikes lasting more than a day grew from 48 in 1936 to some 500 in 1937.

Unfortunately, this upward trajectory of militant, class conscious activity would not be sustained.  The reasons are complex.  One part of the explanation concerns the evolving political orientation of the CP.  Responding to the new strategic orientation of the Communist International, which stressed the importance of building coalitions with all progressive and liberal forces to check the rise of fascism, the CP began pursuing an anti-fascist popular front policy that included support for Roosevelt’s 1936 re-election and the New Deal more generally.

This new orientation also translated into an increasingly conservative line regarding labor activism.  Party activists were encouraged not only to support the new CIO union leadership but also to oppose militant organizing tactics.  As Frances Fox Piven and Richard A. Cloward describe:

The Communists, by now well into their Popular Front phase and some of them into the union bureaucracy as well, endorsed the call for union discipline. Wyndham Mortimer issued a statement early in 1937 saying: “Sit-down strikes should be resorted to only when absolutely necessary.” And the Flint Auto Worker, edited by Communist Henry Kraus, editorialized that “the problem is not to foster strikes and labor trouble. The union can only grow on the basis of established procedure and collective bargaining.”

At the same time, corporate leaders were taking direct aim at the new labor reforms.  One of their first big victories was a 1938 Supreme Court ruling that said companies had the right to hire permanent replacement workers when workers went on strike.  The following year it ruled sit-down strikes illegal, even if undertaken in response to an illegal corporate action.

States also joined in.  In 1939, as Piven and Cloward report:

state legislatures began to pass laws prohibiting some kinds of strikes and secondary boycotts, limiting picketing, outlawing the closed shop, requiring the registration of unions, limiting the amount of dues unions could charge, and providing stiff jail terms for violations of the new offenses. By 1947 almost all of the states had passed legislation imposing at least some of these limitations.

Finally, corporate leaders also launched an anti-Communist attack against union activists, especially those in leadership positions in the newly created unions of the CIO.  Their efforts were amplified by House Un-American Activities Committee hearings which began in 1938.  The 1947 Taft–Hartley Act codified all these developments, outlawing wildcat strikes, solidarity or political strikes, secondary boycotts, secondary and mass picketing, and closed shops, as well as requiring union officers to sign non-communist affidavits as a condition for their union to secure NLRA rights.

In sum, as left and union leadership began to rely ever more heavily on the NLRA to win gains for workers, corporate and political elites began aggressively narrowing the acceptable boundaries of legal action.  As a consequence, although there would still be periods of worker militancy, the frequency of rank and file-led actions, open rebellion against the law, and moments of cross-union and class solidarity became increasingly rare.  Thus, the NLRB succeeded, as its supporters hoped, in creating a more stable system of labor relations that was consistent with and supportive of the needs of capitalist production.

The Movement’s Decline

The workers movement of the 1930s was a mass movement that, thanks to left leadership, encouraged class solidarity and support for a program of radical social change.  The movement was, as described in this and past posts, powerful enough to force the Roosevelt administration into adopting successively more progressive programs that, although flawed, did improve working and living conditions for many.

However, even as its different political tendencies began to unify, creating a national organization of the unemployed, the movement began to suffer a loss of militancy and vision that left it unable to further influence political developments.  As a consequence, the reforms of the Second New Deal came to define the limits of change.

In 1934 the Communist Party organized Unemployed Councils tightened their organizational form, finally adopting a written constitution.  In early 1935, Socialist Party organized unemployed organizations and a number of Musteite organized Unemployed Leagues joined together to create a national organization of the unemployed, the Workers Alliance.  The following year, the Workers Alliance reached agreement with the Unemployed Councils and several other small unemployed organizations to form a new, larger national organization of the unemployed, the Workers Alliance of America (WAA). This unity was possible in large part because of the CP’s newly adopted popular front policy which led it to seek alliances with other political tendencies and groups that were seen as anti-fascist.  This included the Socialist Party and Muste’s Conference for Progressive Labor Action and their associated movements of unemployed.

The Workers Alliance of America, critical of the WPA, continued to fight for the unemployed and those on relief.  For example, when the Roosevelt administration announced planned cuts in WPA employment for 1937, the organization organized a number of sit-ins and demonstrations at city relief offices throughout the country.  The President, under pressure from big city mayors, rescinded the cuts.

However, defending an existing program is not the same as winning a new, improved one.  And this the movement could not do for several reasons.  One is that the rank and file base of the unemployed movement was shrinking because of the growth in the economy and the expansion in relief opportunities.  Another is that many of the movement’s most experienced activists were now employed as organizers in the growing trade union movement.

A third reason is that changes in the relief system undermined the movement’s ability to mobilize the unemployed and win gains through collective action.  The system had become professionalized, with relief officials in city after city establishing rules about the size of delegations that would be allowed in offices and the number of times each week that delegations could seek meetings with officials. Moreover, relief office workers were instructed not to meet clients if they were accompanied by a delegation or grant relief if a delegation was present in the office.

This left local unemployed organizers in the position of either accepting the new ground rules to ensure that their members received relief or continuing their mass activity hoping that their old strategy would be more effective in winning gains.   Increasingly, members advocated for the former, leaving organizers with no choice.  In fact, as a sign of the growing sophistication of the New Deal relief effort, a number of relief offices actually offered jobs to local activists with the unemployed movement with the promise that they could help make the system work more efficiently and effectively for those seeking relief.  In many cases, those offers were accepted.

Perhaps the most important reason for the movement’s growing political weakness was the Communist Party’s decision to pursue an alliance with the Roosevelt administration as part of its anti-fascist popular front policy.  This led the party to organize support for Roosevelt’s 1936 election and his New Deal policies, and to deemphasize oppositional and militant mass actions in support of social transformation in favor of more established political activity such as petition drives and lobbying for improvements in existing programs. In fact, hoping to win Roosevelt’s good will, the CP often organized rallies designed to show worker support for the WPA and other New Deal programs.  Roosevelt was actually invited to give the main speech at the WAA’s second annual convention.  When he turned down the invitation the honor was given to the WPA’s Director of Labor Relations. In 1938, WAA locals even campaigned for pro-New Deal candidates.

Increasingly the WAA became integrated into the New Deal.  As Piven and Cloward point out:

The [WAA became] recognized as the official bargaining agent for WPA workers, and alliance leaders now corresponded frequently with WPA administrators, communicating a host of complaints, and discussing innumerable procedural questions regarding WPA administrative regulations. Some of the complaints were major, having to do with pay cuts and arbitrary layoffs. Much of the correspondence, however, had to do with minute questions of procedure, and especially with the question of whether WPA workers were being allowed to make up the time lost while attending alliance meetings. Alliance leaders also wrote regularly to the president, reviewing the economic situation for him, deploring cuts in WPA, and calling for an expansion of the program.

The WAA continued to make demands on the administration, drafting their own bills calling for greater public spending and employment at union wages, advocating for their own far more sweeping social insurance program, and calling for the establishment of a national planning agency to oversee a permanent public works program.  But the movement no longer threatened Roosevelt, and its demands were largely ignored.  The WAA dissolved itself in 1941.

The labor movement, riding the growth in the economy, soon replaced the unemployed movement as the most powerful social force for change.  However, for reasons noted above, it also underwent its own moderation despite the efforts of rank and file activists.  For example, CIO leaders established Labor’s Non-Partisan League in 1936 to support President Roosevelt’s reelection and his New Deal program. World War II; the post-war vicious anti-communist attacks on all critics of capitalism, especially in the labor movement; and the strength of the post-war economic expansion finally buried the promise of a radical transformation.  There would be no transformative Third New Deal.

Lessons

The New Deal experience holds a number of important lessons for those advocating a Green New Deal.  First, the existence or even recognition of a crisis cannot be counted on to motivate a change in government policy if that change threatens the status quo.  It took years of mass organizing to force the federal government to acknowledge its responsibility to respond to the devastating social consequences of the Great Depression.  The challenge will be even greater today since, as opposed to the 1930s, the capitalist class continues to enjoy lucrative opportunities for profit-making.

Second, a broad-base mass movement that threatens the stability of the system can force a significant change in government policy.  The driving force for change in the 1930s was the movement of unemployed, and its early power came from the Communist Party’s ability to establish a network of local Unemployed Councils that provided unemployed workers with the opportunity to better understand the cause of their hard times, build class solidarity through collective actions in defense of local needs, and become part of broader campaigns for public policies on the national level that were directly responsive to their local concerns.

It is likely that activists for a Green New Deal will have to engage in a similar process of movement building if they hope to force a meaningful government response to our current crises.  Despite the fact that we face a number of interrelated social, economic, and ecological crises, activists must still find ways to weave together different local organizations engaged in collective actions in defense of their local needs into a nation-wide political force able to project a vision of responsive system change as well as define and fight for associated policies.

Third, government responses to political pressure can be expected to fall far short of movement demands for transformative change.  The Roosevelt administration’s First New Deal programs fell far short of what working people demanded and needed.  It took sustained organizing to win a Second New Deal, which while better, was still inadequate.  It the movement for a Green New Deal succeeds in forcing government action, it is safe to assume that, much as in the 1930s, the policies implemented will be partial and inadequate.  Thus, movement activists have to prepare participants for a long, and ongoing campaign of mobilization, organizational development, and pressure.

Fourth, because of the importance of government policy and the natural attraction of wanting to exert personal influence on it, movement activists must remain vigilant against becoming too tied to the government bureaucracy, thereby losing their political independence and weakening the movement’s capacity to continue pushing for further changes in state policy.  WAA leaders understandably wanted to influence New Deal policy, but their growing embrace of the Roosevelt administration, pursued for broader political objectives as well, ended up weakening the movement’s organizational strengthen and effectiveness and perhaps even more importantly, vision of a more egalitarian and democratic society. Green New Deal activists can be expected to face the same kind of pressures if a progressive government comes to power and begins to initiate its own reform program and movements must be alert to the danger.

Fifth, and finally, movements have to be careful not to become too policy oriented. The New Deal included a number of different programs each designed to address different problems.  This created a natural tendency for the different organizations that comprised the broader social movement to narrow their own focus and concentrate on finding ways to respond to the policy shortcomings that most affected their members.  Thus, while the unemployed, those on relief, and those fighting for unionization initially shared a sense of common struggle, over time, in large measure because of their success in winning reforms, they became separate movements, each with their own separate concerns. As a consequence, the overall power, unity, and commitment of the broader social movement for massive societal change was weakened.

This is a challenge that the movement for a Green New Deal can expect to face if it is successful enough to force meaningful government reforms, especially given the multiplicity of the challenges the country faces. The only way to minimize this challenge is to ensure that movement organizing, from the very beginning, encourages participants to see the need for the broader transformative change inspired by the notion of a Green New Deal, and to draw from their struggle an ever more concrete understanding of how that change can be advanced and how real improvement in their lives depends on its achievement.

What the New Deal can teach us about winning a Green New Deal: Part IV—Keeping the pressure on the state

Advocates for a Green New Deal, pointing to ever-worsening and interrelated environmental, economic, and social problems, seek adoption of a complex and multifaceted state-directed program of economic transformation.  Many point to the original New Deal–highlighting the federal government’s acceptance of responsibility for fighting the depression and introduction of new initiatives to stabilize markets, expand relief, create jobs producing public goods and services, and establish a system of social security–to make it easier for people to envision and support another transformative state effort to solve a major societal crisis.

While the New Deal experience might well inspire people to believe in the possibility of a Green New Deal, the way that experience is commonly presented may well encourage Green New Deal supporters to miss what is most important to learn from it and thus weaken our chances for advancing a meaningful and responsive Green New Deal.  Often the New Deal experience is described as a set of interconnected government policies that were implemented over a short period of time by a progressive government determined to end an economic crisis.  This emphasis on government policy encourages current activists to focus on developing policies appropriate to our contemporary crisis and on electing progressive leaders to implement them.

In reality, as discussed in Part I, Part II, and Part III of this series, despite the enormous negative social consequences of the Great Depression, it took sustained organizing, led by a movement of the unemployed, to transform the national political environment and force the federal government to accept responsibility for improving economic conditions.  Even then, the policies of the Roosevelt administration’s First New Deal were most concerned with stabilizing business conditions under terms more favorable to business than workers.  Its relief and job creation policies were minimal and far from what the movement demanded or was needed to meet majority needs.

As I argue in this post, it took continued mass organizing to force the Roosevelt administration to implement, two years later, its Second New Deal, which included its now widely praised programs for public works, social security, and union rights.  However, as important and unprecedented as these programs were, they again, as we will see in the next post, fell short of what working people were demanding at the time.

Thus, the most important take-away from this history is that winning a meaningful Green New Deal will require more than well-constructed policy demands and the election of a progressive president.  It will require building a left-led mass movement that prepares people for a long struggle to overcome expected state and corporate resistance to the needed transformative changes.  And a careful study of the New Deal experience can alert to the many challenges and strategic choices we are likely to confront in our movement building efforts as well as the many policy twists and turns we are likely to face as the federal government and corporate sector respond to our demands for a Green New Deal.

The failings of the First New Deal

The First New Deal, as important and innovative as it was, offered no meaningful solution to the crisis faced by working people.  The economy had hit bottom in early 1933 and was beginning to recover.  But although national income grew by one-quarter between 1933 and 1934, it was still only a little more than half of what it had been in 1929.  Some ten million workers remained without jobs and almost twenty million people remained at least partially dependent on relief.

As discussed in Part III, Roosevelt’s First New Deal relief and job programs, were, by design, inadequate to address the ongoing social crisis.  For example, the Federal Emergency Relief Administration (FERA) did provide the first direct federal financing of state relief.  But because the program required matching state funds, many states either refused to apply for FERA grants or kept their requests small. Moreover, because state governments were determined to minimize their own financial obligations and not undermine private business activity, those that did receive relief were subject to demeaning investigations into their personal finances and relief payments were kept small and often limited to coupons exchangeable only for food items on an approved list.

The Civil Works Administration (CWA), created under FERA’s umbrella, was a far more attractive program.  Most importantly, participation was not limited to those on relief. And the program offered meaningful, federally organized, work for pay.  However, with millions of workers seeking to participate in the program, Roosevelt, determined to keep the federal budget deficit small, refused to fund it beyond six months.

Many workers were also critical of one of the First New Deal’s most important efforts to promote economic recovery: the National Industrial Recovery Act (NIRA).  The NIRA suspended anti-trust laws and encouraged companies to engage in self-regulation through industry organized wage and price controls, and the establishment of production quotas and restrictions on market entry.  Workers saw this act as rewarding the same business leaders that were responsible for the Great Depression.

To appease trade union leaders, Section 7a of the NIRA included the statement that “employees shall have the right to organize and bargain collectively through representatives of their own choosing . . . free from the interference, restraint, or coercion of employers.”  Unfortunately, no mechanism was included to ensure that workers would be able to exercise this right, and after a short period of successful union organizing, companies began violently repressing genuine union activity.

Another key First New Deal initiative, The Agricultural Adjustment Act, was also unpopular.  It sought to strengthen the agricultural sector by paying farmers to take land out of production, thus lowering the supply of agricultural goods and boosting their price. However, most of the land that was taken out of production had been used by poor African American sharecroppers and tenant farmers.  Thus, the policy ended up rewarding the bigger farmers and punishing the poorest.

In short, the programs of the First New Deal, coming almost four years after the start of the Great Depression, fell far short of what workers needed and wanted.  And, they did little to slow the on-going mass organizing.

The unemployed movement continues

As described in Part II, the Communist Party (CP) was fast off the mark in organizing the unemployed.  As early as August 1929, two months before the stock market crash, it had begun work on the creation of a nationwide organization of Unemployed Councils (UCs).  The UCs grew fast, uniting and mobilizing the unemployed, who engaged in locally organized fights for relief and against evictions in many parts of the country.  The CP and the UCs also organized several national mobilizations in support of federal unemployment insurance and emergency relief assistance as well as a 7-hour workday and an end to discrimination against African American and foreign-born workers.

The Socialist Party (SP) and the Muste-led Conference of Progressive Labor Action (CPLA) each had their own organizations concerned with the unemployed.  But they were few in number and initially not engaged in the kind of direct organizing of the unemployed and direct action practiced by the UCs.  SP organizations concentrated on educating the population about the causes of unemployment and the need for national action to combat it.  While CPLA organizations did include the unemployed, they were mostly focused on promoting self-help activities for survival.  However, beginning in 1933, both the SP and CPLA began to change their approach, and their respective organizations began to operate much like the CP’s Unemployed Councils.

The SP sponsored Chicago Workers Committee on Unemployment began the turn towards direct organizing of the unemployed and a commitment to direct action.  By 1933 it had 67 locals in Chicago as well as some in other nearby cities.  Committees in other states, primarily in the Midwest, soon followed Chicago’s example.  And in November 1933, these more activist committees came together to found a new, Midwest-centered organization, the Unemployed Workers League of America.

The SP’s New York organizations of unemployed were also growing in number.  Several came together in 1933 to form the Workers Unemployed League, which later merged with other organizations in the state to become the Workers Unemployed Union.  This group eventually merged with groups in other East Coast states to form the Eastern Federation of the Unemployed and Emergency Workers.  Socialist Party-led unemployed organizations held multi-state demonstrations in their areas of strength in March 1933 and November 1934 to demand new and more expansive programs of federal relief and job creation.

The Musteites began their own turn to more militant unemployed organizing in early 1933.  By July 1933 their Unemployed Leagues (ULs) claimed 100,000 members in Ohio, 40,000 in Pennsylvania, and 10,000 more in West Virginia, New Jersey, and North Carolina.  That same month, their ULs formed a national organization to coordinate their work, the National Unemployed League.

The CPLA dissolved itself in December 1933, as activists established a new, more radical organization, the American Workers Party (AWP).  Reflecting this change, delegates to the National Unemployed League’s second national convention in 1934 formally rejected the organization’s past reliance on self-help activities and private relief and declared their opposition to capitalism.

The ULs, like the UCs, engaged in mass sit-ins at relief offices to overturn negative decisions by relief officials.  One sit-in in Pittsburgh lasted 59 days.  They also organized mass resistance to court ordered evictions, blocking sheriffs when possible or returning furniture to an evictees home if it had been removed.   ULs in several cities also engaged in direct appropriate of food from government warehouses in line with their slogan, “Give Us Relief, Or We’ll Take It.”  The AWP, like its processor, had a strong presence in the Midwest, but was never able to extend its influence or build networks of Uls outside that region.

Not only did the programs of the First New Deal not slow unemployed organizing, the unemployed movement began increasingly taking on a unified national character as unemployed activists from the three different political tendencies gradually began working together, often against the mandates of their leaders. The extent and militance of unemployed activism made it difficult for governments–local, state, and national–to rest easy.  For one thing, it highlighted a growing radicalization of the population, as more and more people demonstrated their willingness to openly challenge the legitimacy of the police, the court system, and state institutions.

Relief worker organizing

The First New Deal greatly expanded the number of people on relief, and the CP quickly began organizing relief workers in 1934, followed shortly by the SP and CPLA.  The CP sponsored Relief Workers Leagues (RWLs) targeted those receiving FERA relief funds or employed by the CWA. In addition to organizing grievance committees to fight discrimination, especially against African American, single, and foreign-born workers, the RLWs fought for timely payment of relief wages, higher pay for relief work with cost of living adjustments, free transportation to work sites and free medical care, and a moratorium on electric and gas charges for those on relief.

They also sent delegations to Washington D.C. to protest wage discrimination or low wages and organized in support of the CP’s call for a national Unemployment Insurance Bill.  Local RWL members also joined with the unemployed in marches on state capitals and on picket lines outside welfare offices to demand more employment opportunities and more money for relief.  League members were especially aggressive in protesting against the termination of the CWA.

Nels Anderson, director of Labor Relations for the Works Progress Administration (WPA), provides a good feeling for the work of RWL members:

They parade; they protest; they make demands; they write millions of letters to officials. . . . They are irreconcilable . . . they never stop asking.  They state their demands in every conceivable way.  They crowd through the doors of every relief station and every WPA office.  They surround social workers on the street.

Although not as large or as developed as the unemployment movement, the organization and activities of relief worker organizations were not easy to ignore and made it difficult for the Roosevelt administration to tout the success of its First New Deal initiatives.

Organizing for a national Unemployment Insurance Bill

The CP also continued to organize for a national Unemployment Insurance Bill.  The CP and the UCs had declared National Unemployment Insurance Day on Feb 4, 1932 with activities in many cities.  It was also the major demand of the second national Hunger March in late 1932.  On March 4, 1933, the day of Roosevelt’s inauguration, they organized demonstrations stressing the need for action on unemployment insurance.

Undeterred by Roosevelt’s lack of action, the CP authored a bill that was introduced in Congress in February 1934 by Representative Ernest Lundeen of the Farmer-Labor Party.  Not surprisingly, the Workers Unemployment and Social Insurance Bill was strongly supported by the UCs as well SP and Musteite organizations of unemployed.  And as a result of the efforts of activists from these and other organizations it was soon formally endorsed by 5 international unions, 35 central labor bodies, and more than 3000 local unions.  Rank and file worker committees also formed across the country to pressure members of Congress to pass it.

In broad brush, the bill proposed social insurance for all the jobless, the sick, and the elderly without discrimination, at the expense of the wealthy.  More specifically, as Chris Wright summarizes, the bill:

provided for unemployment insurance for workers and farmers (regardless of age, sex, or race) that was to be equal to average local wages but no less than $10 per week plus $3 for each dependent; people compelled to work part-time (because of inability to find full-time jobs) were to receive the difference between their earnings and the average local full-time wages; commissions directly elected by members of workers’ and farmers’ organizations were to administer the system; social insurance would be given to the sick and elderly, and maternity benefits would be paid eight weeks before and eight weeks after birth; and the system would be financed by unappropriated funds in the Treasury and by taxes on inheritances, gifts, and individual and corporate incomes above $5,000 a year. Later iterations of the bill went into greater detail on how the system would be financed and managed.

When Congress refused to act on the bill, Lundeen reintroduced it in January 1935. Because of public pressure, the bill became the first unemployment insurance plan in US history to be recommended by a congressional committee, in this case the House Labor Committee.  It was voted down in the full House of Representatives, 204 to 52.

Roosevelt strongly opposed the Workers Unemployment and Social Insurance Bill, and so moved quickly to pressure Congress to write a social security bill he could support.  He created the President’s Committee on Economic Security in July 1934, which established the principles that formed the basis of the Social Security Act that was eventually signed into law as part of the Second New Deal.

Trade union organizing

As the economy continued to recover, and the unemployed were increasingly able to find jobs or gain relief, left groups began shifting their attention towards organizing the employed.  As one UL organizer who later became an organizer for the CIO explained, the goal was not a permanent organization of the unemployed. “We wanted the day to come when unemployed organizations would be done away with and there would only be organizations of employed workers.”

A number of unions, hoping to build on worker anger over employment conditions and the NIRA’s Section 7a, which many workers were encouraged to believe meant that the President supported unionization, launched lighting fast organizing drives.  And with good success.  The United Mine Workers was one.  For example, it took the union only one day after the NIRA became law to sign up some 80 percent of Ohio miners.  And it was able to press its advantage, aided by a series of wildcat strikes, to win gains for its members. The Amalgamated Clothing Workers and the International Ladies’ Garment Workers’ Union also grew quickly, with each winning significant employer concessions following a series of short strikes.

The following year saw an explosion of trade union organizing, including three major successful union struggles.  The first was in Toledo Ohio, which at the time was a major center for automobile parts manufacturing.  Organizing began in the summer 1933 at several parts plants.  In February 1934 some 4000 workers went out on strike.  It appeared that the strike would be settled quickly when one of the largest companies, Electric Auto-Lite, decided to oppose any deal.  The other companies quickly followed Electric Auto-Lite’s lead and the strike resumed.  With Electric Auto-Lite hiring scabs and maintaining production, it appeared the strike was lost.  Then, in May, the local UL, the unemployed organization of the American Workers’ Party, intervened.

It organized a mass picket line around Electric Auto-Lite, even though the courts had issued an injunction against third party picketing.  The local sheriff and special deputies arrested several picketers, beating one badly. In response, the UL and the union organized a bigger blockade of some 10,000 workers, trapping the strikebreakers inside the factory.

The “Battle of Toledo” was on.  In an effort to break the blockade, the sheriff and deputies used tear gas, water hoses, and guns.  The workers responded by stoning the plant and burning cars that were in the company parking lot.  The National Guard was called out and in the fighting that followed two picketers were killed.  Unable to break the strike, the plant was forced to close.  After two weeks of Federal mediation, the company and the union reached an agreement: the company recognized the union, boosted its minimum wage, and hiked average wages by 5 percent.

At almost the same time as the struggle began in Toledo, another major union battle started in Minneapolis.  In February 1934, the Trotskyist-led Teamster Local 574 organized a short successful strike, winning contracts with most of the city’s coal delivery companies.  The victory brought in many new members, both truckers and those who worked in warehouses.  In May, when employers refused to bargain with the union, some 5000 walked off their jobs. The union, well prepared for the strike, effectively shut down commercial transport in the city, allowing only approved farmers to deliver food directly to grocers.

The Citizen’s Alliance, composed of the city’s leading business people, tried to break the strike.  Police and special deputies trapped and beat several of the strikers.  The union responded with its own ambush.  The fighting continued over two days. A number of deputies and strikers were badly hurt, some from beatings and some from gunshots; two strikers died.  But the strike held. The National Guard was called in an attempt to restore order, and while they brought a halt to the fighting, their presence didn’t end the strike.

Other unions, especially in the building trades, began striking in solidarity with the Teamsters, and the threat of a general strike was growing.  After several weeks, with federal authorities applying pressure, the employers finally settled, signing a contract with the union.

A general strike did take place in San Francisco.  Passage of the NIRA had, much like in the coal industry, spurred a massive increase in union membership in West Coast locals of the International Longshoremen’s Association (ILA).  Led by left-wing activists, these locals began, in March 1934, organizing for a coastwide strike to win a shorter workweek, higher pay, union recognition, and a union-run hiring hall.  The threatened strike was soon called off by the top East Coast-based leadership of the ILA, following a request from Roosevelt.  They then secretly negotiated a new agreement with the employers that met none of the workers demands.

The San Francisco longshoremen rejected the deal and struck on May 9.  They were quickly joined by dockworkers in every other West Coast port as well as many sailors and waterfront truckers.  All totaled some 40,000 maritime workers stopped working.

Battles between the police and strikers who resisted the employers use of strikebreakers led to injuries in several ports and the death of one striker. Roosevelt tried again to end the strike, but without success.  On July 3, employers decided to use the police to break the picket line in San Francisco, and succeeded in getting a few trucks through.  They tried again on July 5, leading to a full-scale battle between the police and the strikers.  Two strikers were shot and killed on what became known as Bloody Thursday.

On the following day San Francisco longshoreman called for a general strike.  Teamster locals in both San Francisco and Oakland quickly voted to strike, despite the opposition of their leaders. On July 14, after a number of other unions had voted for a general strike, the San Francisco Labor Council endorsed the action. Some 150,000 workers went out, essentially bringing the city, as well as Oakland, Berkeley and other nearby municipalities, to a halt.  Police tried to break the strike by arresting strike leaders, but the workers held firm.  General Hugh S. Johnson, head of the National Recovery Administration, denounced the strike as a “bloody insurrection” and “a menace to the government.”

After three days, city union leadership, fearful of the growing radicalization of the strikers and worried about escalating threats from employers, called off the strike.  Local ILA unions were forced to accept federal arbitration, but in October, the arbitrator gave the workers most of what they had demanded.

These struggles showed a growth in worker militancy and radicalism that sent shock waves throughout the corporate community as well as the government. As Steve Fraser explains:

General strikes are rare and inherently political. While they last, the mechanisms and authority of the strike supplant or co-exist with those of the “legitimate” municipal government. . . . Barring actual revolution, power ultimately devolves back to where it came from. But the act of calling and conducting a general strike is a grave one. It may have no revolutionary aspirations, yet it opens the door to the unknown. That these two strikes [in Minneapolis and San Francisco] happened in the same year — 1934 — is a barometer of just how far down the road of anti-capitalism the working-class movement had traveled.

Corporate leaders, as the editors of the American Social History Project describe, did not just roll over in the face of this growing activism:

After the employers’ initial shock over Section 7a had worn off, executives in steel, auto, rubber, and a host of other industries followed a two-pronged strategy to forestall unionization: they established or revived company unions to channel workers discontent in nonthreatening directions, and the vigorously resisted organizing drives.

Textile employers were among the more ruthless in their response.  The largest strike in 1934 began in September when 376,000 textile workers from Maine to Alabama walked off their jobs. The employers hired spies, fired union activists, and had workers evicted from their company housing.  With the support of a number of governors, they also made use of the National Guard to break strikes.  Many strikers were injured in the violence that followed, some fatally.  The employers rejected a Roosevelt attempt at mediation and after three weeks, the union leadership ended the strike, having suffered a major defeat.

While a few unions were able to take advantage of the NIRA, most were not.  In fact, by early 1935, five hundred AFL local unions had been disbanded. Section 7a’s statement promising workers the right to organize freely turned out to be largely meaningless.  It was supposed to be enforced by a tripartite National Labor Board, but the board was given no real enforcement power, and it often refused to intervene in unionization struggles.  A number of industries, such as auto, were not even covered by it.  By 1935, growing numbers of workers were calling the National Recovery Administration (NRA), which had been established by the President to oversee the NIRA, the National Run Around.

Mounting pressure for a Second New Deal

With his First New Deal, Roosevelt demonstrated a willingness to experiment, but within established limits.  For example, he remained determined to limit federal budget deficits and minimize federal responsibility for relief and job creation.  Thus, his early initiatives failed to calm the political waters.

Economic improvements, while real, were not sufficient to satisfy working people.  Unemployment remained too high, relief programs remained too limited and punitive, and possibilities for improving wages and work conditions remained daunting for most of those with paid employment.  Consequently, left-led movements continued to successfully mobilize, educate, and radicalize growing numbers of workers around demands increasingly threatening to the status quo.

Also noteworthy as an indicator of the tenor of the times was Upton Sinclair’s 1934 run for governor of California.  His popular End Poverty in California movement advocated production for use and not for profit.  Among other things, it called for the state to purchase unused land and factories for use by the unemployed, allowing them to barter what they produced, as well as pensions for the poor and those over sixty years old, all to be financed by higher taxes on the wealthy and corporations.

More right-wing political movements were also gaining in popularity, feeding off of popular disenchantment with government policy.  For example, Senator Huey Long from Louisiana criticized Roosevelt for creating huge bureaucracies and supporting monopolization.  In 1934 he launched his Share Our Wealth Plan, which called for a system of taxes on the wealthy to finance guaranteed payments of between three to five thousand dollars per household and pensions for everyone over sixty.  He also advocated a thirty-hour work week and an eleven-month work-year.  His Share Our Wealth Clubs enjoyed a membership of some seven or eight million people, mostly in the South but also in the Midwest and mid-Atlantic states as well.

Frances Townsend, a retired doctor from California, had his own proposal.  His Townsend Plan called for giving every person over 60 who was not working $200 a month on the promise that they would spend it all during the month.  It also called for abolishing all other forms of Federal relief and was to be financed by a regressive national sales tax.  Within two years of the publication of his plan, over 3000 Townsend Plan Clubs, with some 2.2 million members, were organized all over the country and began pressuring Congress to pass it.

Despite political differences, all these movements–at least initially in the case of the movements promoted by Long and Townsend–tended to encourage a critical view of private ownership and wealth inequality and most business leaders blamed Roosevelt, and his First New Deal policies, for this development.  They were especially worried about the possibility of greater government regulation of their activities.  In 1934, a number of top business leaders resigned from Roosevelt’s Business Advisory Council and began exploring ways to defeat him in the presidential election of 1936.

In sum, by 1935 Roosevelt was well aware that he needed to act, and act decisively to reestablish his authority and popularity.  In some ways his decision to launch a more worker-friendly Second New Deal spoke to his limited choices.  Most business leaders had now made clear their opposition not only to his administration but to any new major federal initiatives as well.  In fact, in May 1935, the Supreme Court ruled the National Industrial Recovery Act unconstitutional.  It did the same with the Agricultural Adjustment Act in January 1936.

A do-nothing policy was unlikely to win back business support or strengthen Roosevelt’s political standing given the economy’s weak on-going economic expansion.  Thus, as Steve Fraser comments:

The Roosevelt administration needed new allies. To get them it would have to pay closer attention to the social upheavals erupting around the country. The center of gravity was shifting, and the New Deal would have to shift with it or risk isolation.

Roosevelt’s response was the Second New Deal.  His political acumen is well illustrated by the fact that the three signature achievements of the Second New Deal—the Works Progress Administration, the National Labor Relations Act, and the Social Security Act–not only responded to the demands of the mass movements organized by left political forces, but did so in a way that allowed him to take back the initiative from the left.

The Works Progress Administration, created in May 1935, provided meaningful work for millions of jobless workers, satisfying the demands of many of those in the unemployed and relief workers movements.  Moreover, unlike the earlier short-lived CWA that focused on public construction work, the Works Progress Administration also included a Federal Arts Project, a Federal Theater Project, a Federal Writers’ Project, and a Federal Music Project.

The National Labor Relations Act, passed in July 1935, created a framework for protecting the rights of private sector workers to organize into unions of their choosing, engage in collective bargaining, and take collective actions such as strikes.  Many trade unionists celebrated this act, believing that it would secure their rights to organize.  The Social Security Act passed in August 1935 established a system of old-age benefits for workers, benefits for victims of industrial accidents, unemployment insurance, and aid for dependent mothers and children, the blind, and the physically handicapped.  This was a direct response to the demands of the broad workers’ movement for a federally organized system of social protection.

However, as we will see in the next post, while the Second New Deal represented a major step forward for working people, each of these signature initiatives, as designed, fell short of what progressive movements demanded.  Unfortunately, changing political and economic conditions greatly weakened the left over the following years, leaving it unable to sustain its organizing and its pressure on the state.  As a consequence, not only was there no meaningful Third New Deal, the reforms of the Second New Deal have either ended (direct public employment), greatly weakened (labor protections), or come under attack (social security).

Lessons

The New Deal was not a program conceived and implemented at a moment in time by a government committed to transformative policies in defense of popular needs.  Rather, it encompassed two very different New Deals, with the Second far more progressive than the First.  Moreover, the Second New Deal did not emerge as a natural evolution of the First New Deal.  Rather as shown above, it was a largely a response to continued popular pressure from movements with strong left leadership.

This history holds an important lesson for those advocating for a Green New Deal.  It is unlikely that popular movements can win and secure full implementation of their demands for a Green New Deal at one historical moment.  Rather, if we succeed, it will take time.  However, as the history of the New Deal shows, the process of change is not likely to be advanced by advocating for modest demands in the belief that these can be easily won and that governments will be predisposed to extend and deepen the required interventions over time.  Rather, we need to build awareness that our political leaders will most likely respond to our efforts with reforms designed to blunt or contain our demands for change. Thus, it is necessary to put forward the most progressive demands that can win popular support at the time while preparing movement participants for the fact that the struggle to win meaningful transformative policies will be long and complex.

Another lesson from the New Deal experience is that movement building itself must also be a dynamic process, responding and transforming in response to political and economic developments.  It was the movement of unemployed that spearheaded the political pressures leading to the First New Deal.  First New Deal policies and the economic recovery then changed the organizing terrain, leading to new organizing of relief workers and trade unions.

At the same time, there were strong threads tying these movements together. One of the most important was that experiences in one, say the unemployed movement, provided an educational experience that helped create organizers able to spur the work of the newer movements, for example that of relief workers.  And because of all these movements owed much to the work of left political groups, there was a common vision that also tied them together and encouraged each to support the struggles of the other and join in support of even bigger demands, such as for a new system of social insurance.

Advocates of a Green New Deal need to pay careful attention to this organizing experience. Given the Green New Deal’s multidimensional concerns, achieving it will likely require organizing in many different arenas which may well require, at least at an early stage, organizing a number of different movements, each with their own separate concerns.  The challenge will be finding ways to ensure coordination, productive interactions and interconnections, and an emerging unified vision around big transformative demands.