On the Defense

Because of labor stoppages, there were no newspapers to speak of in New York or Cleveland last week, no shipping of consequence on the Atlantic or Gulf coasts. In Philadelphia, a bus, trolley and subway strike was making life miserable for commuters, and only a federal court order prevented Southern Railway workers from hitting the bricks. In all, federal mediators were wrestling with more than 20 major strikes last week.

To many an irate citizen, all this might seem proof that labor's power is excessive and growing greater. But unionism, in membership terms, is no longer an expanding force.

Soft White Collars. Since 1954, the U.S. labor force has jumped more than 9%, to 74 million, but union membership has been all but stalled in the neighborhood of 17 million. Among the five biggest U.S. unions, only the Teamsters are larger today than in 1956; the Steelworkers, the Auto Workers, the Machinists and the Carpenters have grown smaller. Since 1956, the labor movement as a whole has lost 1.500,000 old members and gained 1,500,000 new ones. But, as Transport Workers' President Michael Quill admits, "we have organized the new ones because we compelled them, through closed-shop agreements, to get in line.''

Younger workers, who never knew the Depression, are bored by the militant whoops of labor's old war horses. With wages rising in about the same degree as productivity--both gained some 3% last year--the economic utility of union membership is not readily apparent to the youngsters. More important, automation's forward march has hit labor unions by eliminating jobs among the easier-to-organize heavy manufacturing workers, and by creating jobs for white-collar workers, who remain notoriously cool to unions. Of the 23 million Americans employed in government, selling, banking and insurance, fully 85% to 90% have nothing to do with unions.

Much of the current labor unrest traces to the unions' frustration, and their desire to protect blue-collar jobs threatened by automation. On the docks, where loading machines have steadily been replacing men, a main cause of the current strike was management's attempt to slim down work crews. (The issue has been shunted to an outside study group, which will report next year.)

Hollow Threats. But strikes, and threats of strikes, carry less wallop than they used to as industry relies more and more on machines and finds itself overloaded with productive capacity. Strikers recently stayed out for six months at the big Climax Molybdenum mine in Colorado; but the company, using supervisory help and semiautomated gear, was able to produce up to 65% capacity. Even the worst strike of recent times made little dent in the company ledgers; in 1959, the year of the 116-day steel strike, steelmakers earned 7% more than in 1958.

Of course, one strategic strike, even by a small union, can still cause an awful mess, as disconsolate New York newspaper nonreaders can testify. Organized labor is still a formidable force to reckon with, even though its membership is not increasing and much of its idealism seems to have evaporated. But it is not quite as formidable as it once was.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.