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The Fight to Save UMass Labor Center Is a Fight for Worker Power

The Labor Center at the University of Massachusetts (UMass) at Amherst is in turmoil. Its director, Eve Weinbaum, says she was abruptly pushed out of the position. In an alarming e-mail to alumni, students and allies, she protested funding cuts to teaching assistants and part-time instructors and, more troublingly, threats to the “Labor Studies faculty’s autonomy to make programmatic decisions and to designate a Director.”

Founded in 1964, the Labor Center is one of about 30 labor centers around the country. Most are rooted in the extension programs of land grant public universities. In addition to its extension work—providing trainings for unions and worker centers—the Labor Center runs undergraduate and graduate degree programs in labor studies.

These days it is most renowned for its limited residency Union Leadership and Administration (ULA) program, in which union leaders, staff and rank-and-file activists meet for intense 10-day periods of instruction every summer and winter and can earn a graduate degree in three years if they keep up with readings and assignments from home (or in the field). As you might have guessed, I’m a proud alum of the program.

The response to Weinbaum’s letter produced nearly 500 letters of protest in a few days, according to organizers for a Save the Labor Center campaign. Local union leaders, heads of other labor centers, alumni and current students also expressed alarm about the situation in a prominent article in The Boston Globe. According to Jeff Schuhrke, another UMass alum and writer for In These Times, an organizing committee of at least 30 alumni is holding regular conference calls to plan the next steps of the campaign. The upheaval there has many worried about the future of labor education at public universities nationwide. Changes in the way education programs are funded are setting off a kind of labor center “Hunger Games,” where some programs grow while others die.

Austerity and the corporatization of higher education

The plight of the Labor Center is rooted in a very common problem: state divestment in public higher education. Public university systems that were once so adequately funded that they charged little-to-no in-state tuition to students have seen their state funding decline over a period of decades.

For a state as wealthy and as liberal as its reputation, Massachusetts’ divestment in its university system is particularly egregious. The state allocates some $508 million to UMass. That’s only 17 percent of the school’s $3 billion budget. And the legislature only increased state funding by 1 percent this June, which will lead to more increases in tuition and student fees.

The skyrocketing tuition and crippling student debt caused by this divestment have been well documented. What is a bit murkier is how it impacts the function of a university, as every academic discipline is forced to generate revenue. This is what critics refer to as the corporatization of higher education.

Science and engineering faculty must secure federal grants, philanthropic funding, corporate contracts and Congressional earmarks in order to gain tenure and get promoted. Those revenue sources fund an army of non-tenured research assistants, postdocs and research professors.

Law and business schools can turn to corporations and wealthy alumni for donations and endowed chairs to fund additional faculty lines. But the humanities and social sciences don’t have the same rich resources to draw upon. Their charge from administration is to drum up student enrollment, particularly for profitable master’s degree programs—hence, the pressure on the Labor Center to recruit more out-of-state students for its residential master’s program.

Labor centers are changing with the times

But not every labor center is struggling. Some, like the ones at Rutgers University and Cornell University, have deftly pursued program grants from unions and philanthropic organizations, allowing them to expand and create new institutes. Cornell’s Worker Institute is partnered with the AFL-CIO on a next generation leadership development program and convenes a workers research network, among other projects. Rutgers’ Center for Innovation in Worker Organization does leadership development work for alt-labor groups and is a key partner in Bargaining for the Common Good, among its other programs.

Bucking the state-funding trend, the City University of New York’s Joseph S. Murphy Institute for Worker Education and Labor Studies has, according to its director, Gregory Mantsios, “received a commitment from the University to elevate the status of the Institute to a CUNY School of Labor and Urban Studies.” With this come more state funding and control over that money. It is the result, according to Murphy professor Stephanie Luce, of a sustained lobbying campaign by local labor leaders that labor should have a school with the same status as CUNY’s business school.

“It reflects that New York City, and the state, and CUNY have decided to invest in the labor school,” she said.

Luce, a former UMass labor professor, recently issued a report that showed that New York City has defied national trends and seen its union density increase to 25.5 percent. The NYC labor movement has both the power and the willingness to exercise it on behalf of labor education.

Another labor center that’s bucking the trend is the Kalmanovitz Initiative for Labor and the Working Poor at Georgetown University. A private Jesuit university, Georgetown didn’t even have a labor center until a few years ago. They had just two labor history professors, Michael Kazin and Joseph McCartin.

Georgetown president John DeGioia sought to create a labor center at the university in 2006. He was eventually connected to the Kalmanovitz Charitable Foundation (which, ironically, was carved out of the estate whose caretakers left a deep scar in the city of Milwaukee by shuttering the unionized Pabst brewery in the mid-1990s). An influential board member, who was steeped in the Catholic social justice tradition and whose children had attended Georgetown, wanted to steer a significant grant to a labor education program in the Washington, D.C. area.

McCartin agreed to head up the new labor center, bringing the influential labor strategist Stephen Lerner along as a fellow. The modestly-funded initiative (its annual budget rarely tops $700,000) served as the incubator for Bargaining for the Common Good—a union coalition effort that aligns bargaining demands with those of other members and with community demands around progressive taxation, affordable housing, youth incarceration and government transparency.

But, if you’re wondering why Kalmanovitz is an “initiative” and not an “institute,” the charitable organization provides rolling grants—not a bequest or an annuity—which leaves the Kalmanovitz Initiative as vulnerable to the fickle priorities of a charity as the public labor centers are to the indifference of state legislators.

The future of labor education at UMass and beyond

John A. Hird, dean of social and behavioral sciences at UMass, assures In These Times, “We have no intention of allowing the ULA program to stand on its own.”

He says the university is working with the Labor Center to increase residential enrollment in both the undergraduate and graduate programs, which have declined in recent years. He sees some promise in the planned “4+1” bachelor’s/master’s program for increasing labor studies enrollment. The program would allow undergraduate students to earn graduate credit in their junior and senior years and walk away with both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in just five years.

“Rest assured we are doing everything we can to further develop this jewel of a program,” Hird said about ULA.

While UMass is earnestly conducting a search for a new director of the Labor Center, Hird concedes that it is likely the position will go to an internal candidate, and not a new hire, due to the financial picture. Sources at the Labor Center say they hope their campaign might result in a commitment to hire a new tenure-track labor professor to direct the center, or, at a minimum, to win more input for Labor Center faculty and staff in the selection of its next director.

“This crisis is going to bring more attention to UMass and more of a commitment to fund it,” said Paul Mark, a Democratic state representative.

Mark was a shop steward and executive board member of his IBEW local when he was a classmate of mine at ULA. He notes that Massachusetts’ senate president is also an alum of UMass, and that the Democratic legislature is moving a plan to institute a graduated income tax in order to better fund education and transportation. You read that right, the state that Republicans love to malign as “Taxachusetts” has a constitutional flat tax. It will take two successive legislative sessions to vote on a progressive tax amendment before the matter can be put before the voters in 2018.

Mark also reports that he has sat in on strategy meetings this past weekend with Tom Juravich, who is serving as interim director of the Labor Center, and state AFL-CIO president Steven Tolman, among others, to brainstorm ways to direct more union funding and programming to the center. If the current crisis gets Massachusetts’ unions to realize that they cannot take for granted that the Labor Center will always be there, well, that is certainly a silver lining. Although, even this may not be enough. As the Kalmanovitz Initiative’s McCartin laments, “Even if you’re taking care of your labor constituents well, they don’t have the resources they once did to keep you funded.”

Many people I talked to note that the Boston area is thick with private colleges, including elite institutions like Harvard University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Their many graduates have moved on to careers in politics. As a result, UMass doesn’t command quite the same alumni loyalty among legislators that many other state universities do. The other intrinsic challenge for UMass that supporters will note is its physical remoteness. Most of Massachusetts’ labor movement is based in Boston, in the eastern end of the state. The beautiful flagship UMass campus is located “in the sleepy west of the woody east” of Amherst.

I happen to think that remoteness is an asset.

Most of the surviving labor centers sprang up after World War II. They were founded in the spirit of labor-management partnership, a post-war consensus that emphasized mediation, arbitration and respectable political statesmanship. This is a framework that most employers abandoned long ago. But, to this day, most unions approach the labor centers as places for shop stewards and staff representatives to learn how to handle grievances or the finer points of collective bargaining.

What our movement needs from our labor centers is to be a place where leaders, staff and rank-and-file activists, from all kinds of different unions, can get the hell away from their offices and daily grievances and meet together in a retreat-like setting and study, read, discuss and debate—and maybe come up with some potential breakthrough strategies.

A model worth revisiting is the labor colleges of the 1920s. Brookwood Labor College in upstate New York was a bucolic retreat where thoughtful activists studied and debated the big strategic questions of the day. These included how to adapt craft union structure to mass industrial production and organize key sectors of the economy.

Brookwood made a substantial, if underappreciated, contribution to the strike wave that revived labor’s fortunes in the late 1930s. Our current economic order is marked by massive inequality that some call the New Gilded Age, and our current union structures are as ill matched as those were in the 1920s to the ways industry restructured to avoid our reach. Looking backwards to that time makes sense.

We need more spaces like the UMass Labor Center to regroup and reconsider our strategic choices, not fewer. Labor centers are worth fighting for.

[This article originally appeared at In These Times.]

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Review of Sarah Jaffe’s “Necessary Trouble”

Something is happening. Socialism is no longer a dirty word (the “S-word”), but something a sizeable portion of Americans tell pollsters is their preferred vision for society. It’s no longer an anachronism to speak of “the Left.” A brave and quickly organized movement for black lives has not only sparked a new civil rights movement but has gotten many of us to see the criminal justice system for what it is: the evolution of Jim Crow. Oh, and a hell of a lot more workers are striking than before.

There have been attempts to describe this emerging movement for social justice in book form before. The latest, Necessary Trouble: Americans in Revolt by Sarah Jaffe, is the best so far. The Nation Books publication was released Tuesday.

Jaffe, a freelance writer whose work has appeared everywhere from In These Times to The Guardian and The Atlantic, is a leading light in the new generation of labor and social justice reporters. It wasn’t that long ago that if you had a campaign you wanted to get in the press you had exactly two full-time labor reporters to lobby to convince them that your campaign was interesting enough to warrant fighting with their editors to get it in print.

Now our movement has a slew of journalists who dig deep and follow campaigns and movements over the long haul. The result is not just that good campaigns get press attention, but that movements grow and expand as people read about them and get inspired to join or do something similar.

Jaffe has a good eye for characters and a great ear for what they have to say, making Necessary Trouble a very engaging read. She weaves a narrative that connects the 2008 economic collapse to the outrage that gave rise to the Tea Party, the Wisconsin protests against Scott Walker’s union-busting agenda and Occupy Wall Street. The movement for black lives, the Occupy Homes protests against bank foreclosures, the occupation of the Republic Windows and Doors factory in Chicago, student debt protests, the Chicago teachers strike(s) and the rolling strikes led by OUR Walmart and the Fight for $15, Jaffe argues, are all connected to a growing sense among Americans that the rules of the system are rigged against the working class—and doubly or triply so against workers who are black, queer, young, old, immigrants or women.

These movements are often “analyzed as if they had each happened in a vacuum,” she writes. “But in fact, as I followed them through the years, I would find similar patterns and even direct connections between them.”

The connections come, in part, to activists’ increasing understanding of “intersectionality.” That is, according to Jaffe, a term used by protestors to describe the way that people experience different forms of oppression (say, racism and sexism) as “intertwined, overlapping experiences.”

Intersectionality has become a mainstream enough concept that even Hillary Clinton felt the need to pay lip service to it on the campaign trail. “This generation,” notes City University of New York professor Ruth Milkman, “uses the word intersectionality as if it were a household label.” Jaffe makes a good case that this is a strength of the emerging movement.

Another concept that Jaffe emphasizes in her book is “horizontalism” in social movement structures. She defines the term as broad-based democratic decision-making without formalized leadership—where any member is free to speak out, propose and carry out a movement action.

“The ideal of horizontalism,” Jaffe writes “is connected to the sense that democracy, in this country, is failing, or perhaps, as some are coming to believe, that it never really worked.”

She points to Occupy Wall Street as the most obvious example of the movement’s horizontalism and experimentation with democracy. Occupy, I must say, never struck me as particularly new. It’s more like a welcome return of the Direct Action Network (DAN). Never a formal organization, the activist network was responsible for the 1999 Seattle protests that shut down a meeting of the World Trade Organization and went on to disrupt meetings of the World Bank and International Monetary Fund and the Republican and Democratic conventions.

The lack of elected leaders, the consensus decision-making with “blocking concerns” and “stand asides”—even the “spirit fingers” to silently mark agreement—all of it first appeared in the DNA of DAN. The fact that a decade and a half later we are still reinventing the same wheel suggests the need for some more permanent organizations.

Jaffe agrees. “The next challenge for the movements,” she writes, “will be creating organizations that last, that suit the needs of twenty-first-century troublemakers, that can be flexible and still enduring, that can overlap and connect up with one another and create more long-term plans for the future they want to see.”

There is a deep-seated aversion to formal organization on the Left. Part of it is, as Jaffe notes, the fear of a movement becoming dominated by “charismatic leaders.” But part of it too, I think, is charismatic leaders not wanting to deal with the indignities of democratic accountability.

I worry that Jaffe’s readers will take the word “horizontalism” and use it to justify and fetishize a lack of formal organization. A better word, I think, is one she quotes to describe the movement for black lives: “leaderfull.” That is a concept that doesn’t preclude dues-paying membership, elected committees and formalized leadership. It’s more about maintaining a culture where good ideas, speakers and writers that come “from the floor” are not merely tolerated but actively solicited.

Two good examples of leaderfull organizing that Jaffe highlights come from labor. In 2008, the workers at Chicago’s Republic Windows and Doors factory engaged in a sit-down strike. Their leaders at the United Electrical, Radio and Machine Workers of America union (UE) had proposed a small, symbolic civil disobedience action. The workers took that idea and ran with it—locking the bosses out and eventually winning their owed severance. They even got a shot at running the business themselves as a cooperative.

The second example was in 2012, when the Chicago Teachers Union (CTU) struck against Rahm Emanuel’s giveback demands. Rank-and-file activists engaged in some pretty deep coalition building and picket captains were given wide latitude with how to conduct their protests. The result was a traditional union strike that got converted into a community protest against austerity and corporate “ed reform.”

There’s no shortage of formal structure and elected leaders in labor. And while the UE and CTU are obviously exceptional unions, leaderfull organizing is more prevalent (and certainly has more potential) than is commonly recognized.

To her credit, union activists and campaigns are described throughout Jaffe’s narrative as essential to a movement fighting for an end to injustice and inequality. But I’m slightly disappointed that she didn’t delve into the recent rise in strike activity. Many of these strikes—like at Kohler and Verizon—were big, visible wins for workers.

There’s been so much written about worker centers and “alt labor” that it’s beginning to skew the market for labor writing. Yes, there’s a lot of action in alternative models of worker organizing, but old (not so) Big Labor is also showing encouraging signs of renewed militancy. Activists will learn from each other by example, and books like this must connect the dots.

To that point, Jaffe tells a delightful and inspiring story about the first night that then-New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg attempted to clear an Occupy encampment at the newly rechristened Liberty Park, near Wall Street, because it had to be cleaned. Occupy activists spent the night scrubbing the park down and, at dawn, were joined by hundreds of union activists, in their respective union colors, to stare down riot police. Bloomberg blinked and ordered law enforcement to withdraw. Jaffe reports that a burly orange-shirted member of the Laborers’ union turned to her to say, “This is power.”

[This article originally appeared at In These Times.]

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When the Hell Did the NLRB Become More Activist Than Labor?

When the hell did the federal government get bolder than most labor unions about asserting the legal rights of workers?

On Monday, in a 3-1 ruling, the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) reversed a Bush the Younger-era precedent that gave employers a say over whether temporary and subcontracted workers can be included in the same bargaining unit as the regular, full-time employees with whom they work beside. Go figure, most employers said “no” to the proposition that people who work shoulder to shoulder, but are paid from separate checkbooks, could bargain together in the same union. But the new Miller & Anderson, Inc. decision could force subcontractors to bargain with a certified union over the wages and working conditions determined by the controlling employer.

The ruling comes hot on the heels of the Board’s American Baptist Homes decision. That case re-established a balancing test for whether a boss’ employment of permanent replacement strikers is actually motivated by a desire to bust a union —which goes a long way towards restoring a legal right to strike.

And, of course, the Board’s attempt to expedite representation elections by holding frivolous management objections in abeyance until after the workers vote nearly broke the Congress. (Seriously, if you want to drink some delicious boss’ tears Google “quickie NLRB election.”)

As veteran union organizer Stephen Lerner succinctly puts it, “Unions have been significantly hobbled by the legal regime, and a lack of imagination to challenge it.” I have advocated that unions should pursue an agenda of judicial activism. These recent NLRB actions prove that the time is ripe to challenge the rules of the system that keep unions shackled. I’ve spent most of my career complaining about how slow and ineffective the NLRB is, as have most union organizers. That bias should not blind us to the opportunity of the moment.

Grandma’s pot roast
After eight years of a Democratic administration, and—with the implosion of Trump’s GOP—the reasonable expectation of at least another eight years, we finally have a labor board that will no longer shrug and sigh that it “is what it is” when it comes to the unfair rules of the system.

But are union leaders and staff bold enough to reject the “is what it is” mentality? There’s an analogy that makes the rounds in Cornell University’s labor extension programs. It involves a man sharing his grandma’s pot roast recipe with a friend. The first step of the recipe calls for cutting the ends off the raw rump, which prompts the friend to ask, “Really? Does that, like, make the roast more tender … or what?”

The man sharing the recipe, who had never questioned why it called for the ends to be cut off, calls around to his parents, siblings and aunts and uncles to find out why grandma’s recipe does so. Finally, he gets his grandma on the phone and she says, “Oh, that’s because the grocer only sold rump roasts that were too big for our roast pan.”

This is the most devastatingly on-the-nose analogy for how unions engage in long-term strategy. We hope and assume that sometime in the past, someone smarter than us considered all the possible options and settled on what we are currently doing as the best possible choice.

What if I told you … that isn’t what it is?
A good case in point is employers’ “right” to force employees to attend mandatory anti-union “captive audience” meetings during a union organizing drive. Most organizers accept that it “is what it is”—another fucked up way that NLRB election rules are rigged so that unions lose a ton of representation elections. (Although, it should be noted that unions used to lose half of all representation elections during the Clinton I-era and now tend to win about two-thirds of elections, thanks partly to more strategic organizing choices and partly to the NLRB’s recent return to its historic mission of encouraging unions and collective bargaining.)

Meanwhile, apparently, the NLRB has been on the record for half a century as inviting unions to make a case that there should be some kind of equal access standard for unions if an employer forces workers to attend mandatory meetings on the subject of union representation. A group of 106 leading labor scholars, led by Charles Morris and Paul Secunda, have filed a petition at the NLRB to re-establish just such a rule.

The speculation is that the NLRB is unlikely to act on Morris’ and Secunda’s petition, as it prefers to act on union (or employer) initiated procedural cases. The Miller & Anderson decision came in response to a union representation petition; the American Baptist Homes decision in response to an unfair labor practice charge. To win equal time, a union will have to file exceptions to a losing representation election in which the employer made use of mandatory captive audience meetings. Surely, and sadly, someone reading this article has recently lost an election under such circumstances, and can take the initiative.

Similarly, most unionists just accept that an employer has a “right” to permanently replace striking workers. For example, Jane McAlevey, in her organizing memoir Raising Hell (and Raising Expectations), incorrectly chalks it up to a law signed by Ronald Reagan. It wasn’t. It was a poorly decided 1938 Supreme Court case that was dusted off in the 1980s. Like referees in a schlocky Hulk Hogan wrestling match, Reagan’s NLRB appointees looked the other way as employers engaged in a coordinated union-busting drive that weaponized the unfrozen caveman Supreme Court precedent.

After an unsuccessful attempt to legislatively ban permanent replacements during the first Clinton era, most unions seem to have shrugged and accepted that workers can legally lose their jobs for striking—that is until the NLRB reverted to the pre-Reagan rules. But the Board can go further. The crucial phrase in that 1938 Court decision, NLRB vs. Mackay Radio, is that an employer can hire permanent replacements if it is necessary “to protect and continue his business.”

In other words, to meet the Supreme Court standard, the NLRB could force Verizon or any other Fortune 500 company to prove that they would otherwise go out of business unless they can hire scabs to steal the jobs of their striking workers. Good luck with that. Unions should get in the habit of filing unfair labor practice charges any time a boss advertises for scabs.

The NLRB even potentially has the power to reverse “Right to Work.” The statutes, passed on a state-by-state basis, aim to prevent unions from collecting fees from all of the workers they are legally obligated to represent. But the federal law that allows “Right to Work” statutes has, until recently, faced very few judicial challenges. One open question is whether the legislative intent of the Taft-Hartley act was merely to ban union membership as a condition of employment—not whether unions could negotiate mandatory fees for grievance representation services. Seattle University Associate Professor of Law Charlotte Garden notes that the NLRB could approve such a formula, and has indicated openness to cases arguing for it.

Only 3,114 days to go
Tom Perez, the current Secretary of Labor, is apparently a bit notorious for noting exactly how many days the Obama administration has left (190, as of today) to make any gains for working Americans. Perez, who has milked every ounce of executive authority that his department has in the pursuit of that goal, is most well known (on Wall Street, at least) for getting Obama to sign an executive order that extended overtime protections to salaried workers earning less than $47,476 per year (up from the mid-1970’s standard of $23,660). In so doing, he won a pay raise, or reduction in hours, for millions of working Americans. And for that mitzvah he is reportedly on the shortlist for Hillary Rodham Clinton’s vice-presidential pick. And, honestly, choosing Perez is Clinton’s last chance to disprove Erik Loomis’ contention that she’s “a Martha Coakley-level campaigner with a once-brilliant campaigner for a husband.”

If labor leaders allowed themselves enough optimism to last not just until the end of Obama’s term but to anticipate at least another eight years of a Democrat in the White House, while maintaining the urgency with which Secretary Perez conducts himself, imagine what we could win for working families. If I didn’t mess up my math, that means we have at least 3,114 days left of an activist, majority-Democratic NLRB with which to press our case for a restoration of workers rights.

Because here’s the thing: challenging bad labor law involves breaking the law. When unions violate the law in pursuit of a voice at work for unorganized workers (by, say, engaging in solidarity boycotts, waging partial strikes or making “permissive” community goals their essential bargaining demands), the NLRB is the sheriff that is tasked with taking them to court. Is it crazy to think that this NLRB might treat bad labor law the way that Obama’s Justice Department treated the Defense of Marriage Act? In the court because they have to be, but conceding that the law is unjust?

Grandma’s pot roast recipe should be revised for our newly remodeled kitchen.

[This article originally appeared at In These Times.]

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Making Abortion Rights Real

The week began on a surprisingly strong note for reproductive justice advocates, as the US Supreme Court, by a 5–3 margin, overturned Texas’s draconian House Bill 2.

The law, which Wendy Davis famously filibustered in her pink tennis shoes, purported to protect women’s health by requiring that health clinics providing abortion services “meet the standards for ambulatory surgical centers, including regulations concerning buildings, equipment and staffing” and that “doctors performing abortions . . . have admitting privileges at a nearby hospital.” These regulations, which the Supreme Court found on Monday to be an “undue burden” for those seeking an abortion, would have shuttered half of the Texas facilities that perform abortions.

Activists are rightly celebrating the ruling as a win for abortion rights. In Texas and elsewhere, women seeking to terminate unwanted pregnancies likely won’t have to contend with the anti-abortion statutes passed since the 2010 Tea Party wave.

But the decision in Whole Women’s Health v. Texas, much like the 4–4 tie in the recent anti-labor Friedrichs v. CTA case, is more a reprieve than an absolute victory. Rather than overturn an earlier, poorly decided decision, the Court potentially locked in the justification for restricting the unalloyed right to an abortion by ruling that the Texas law was simply an overreach.

That earlier, poorly decided case, 1992’s Planned Parenthood v. Casey, represented the culmination of the Reagan-Bush-era legal drive to overturn Roe v. Wade. In a 5–4 decision, in which Anthony Kennedy cast the decisive vote, the Court upheld a Pennsylvania law that mandated a twenty-four-hour waiting period, parental consent for minors, and spousal notification before a woman could obtain an abortion.

While the ruling nominally rendered Roe v. Wade a settled precedent (Antonin Scalia and Clarence Thomas voted against it for that reason), it opened the door for state law restrictions, as long as they didn’t present a “substantial obstacle in the path of a woman seeking an abortion before the fetus attains viability.” In other words, Casey simultaneously protected the right to an abortion and gutted it.

This is strikingly similar to how the Supreme Court has handled labor rights. In 1937, Congress passed the National Labor Relations Act, which enshrined workers’ right to form unions and go on strikes, and gave the federal government the power to go after bosses who interfered with those rights.

But one year later, a key Supreme Court decision, which was similarly celebrated at the time, protected the right to strike while utterly gutting it. In Mackay Radio v. NLRB, the Court upheld the law and ordered the employer to reinstate four striking workers who had been fired.

Yet despite the statute’s guarantee that “Nothing in the Act should be interpreted to interfere with or impede or diminish in any way the right to strike,” as well as its explicit protection of striking workers against “discrimination,” the Court held that in order to “protect and continue his business,” the boss could permanently replace workers in the order of reserve seniority. Employers, in other words, could get rid of striking workers as long as it didn’t present a substantial obstacle to exercising their union rights.

Obsessive union-busters seized on the new precedent. In one important case, an employer tried to give its scabs “super-seniority” — workers who had gone on strike would get laid off first, even years after the job action. The Court struck down that action in 1963, ruling that it was too discriminatory and “not proper under Mackay.” But like Whole Women’s Health, the Court’s Erie Resistor decision further legitimized restrictions on a fundamental right by declaring that a certain set of actions simply went too far — not that the right was improperly restricted in the first place.

A ticking time bomb for decades, the so-called Mackay Doctrine was deployed by employers in the 1980s and 1990s as part of a broader union-busting campaign. Beginning with a strike at the Phelps-Dodge mining corporation in 1983, employers bargained hard for drastic concessions in pay, benefits, and working conditions; dared their unions to strike; hired scabs to take their jobs; and after twelve months encouraged the replacement workers to vote to decertify the union. This is the union-busting playbook that has decimated labor’s ranks and paved the way for massive income and wealth inequality.

Casey has worked out about as poorly for reproductive rights advocates.

The past quarter century has seen a sustained drive to place all kinds of limits on reproductive rights: waiting periods, forced “counseling,” trans-vaginal ultrasounds, burdensome zoning regulations. Already more than a third of women seeking an abortion have to travel at least twenty-five miles to find a facility. Add in mandatory waiting periods (still constitutional, alas), and you’re talking about entire days off from work, travel and motel expenses as well as the cost of the procedure itself, which is often not covered by insurance. (Now, as ever, is an excellent time to donate to your local abortion access fund.)

For far too many working-class women, the right to an abortion exists on paper, rather than as a genuine right — just as for many workers, the right to strike remains purely formal.

So by all means, let’s breathe a sigh of relief. Let’s take some time to celebrate. This was supposed to be a much worse Supreme Court term, and maybe, just maybe, we’re seeing the beginning of the end for constitutionally accepted restrictions on abortion rights.

But the labor movement’s experience with Mackay should give us pause. Even if the heat dies down on new anti-choice efforts, if the now-legitimized Casey precedent is not overturned, and soon, it could be used as legal ammunition in the next massive assault on reproductive rights.

The next president could appoint as many as three Supreme Court justices — totally changing the high court’s makeup and voting dynamics. We need to begin thinking beyond the defensive strategies of Friedrichs and Whole Women’s Health and start planning campaigns of judicial activism to overturn rotten Court precedents and put women’s fundamental rights on firmer legal footing.

[This article originally appeared at Jacobin.]