Think of all the countries that have an entire political party described as Labor. They have one, and sometimes more than one, in Australia, Brazil, Italy, Mexico, New Zealand, the UK . . . . In Poland they call it Labor United. Maybe to distinguish it from labor divided? Some countries have a New Labour, with the "u," as if labor wasn't as old as mankind.
America tried out a capital-L, capital-P Labor Party once.
Once.
On these shores we celebrate labor as a means to an end, maybe a stage that we pass through from the car wash in high school to pizza jobs in college to something with a 401(k) later. And then, maybe, dare we say, into the realm of capitalism as other people go to work for us. That is, on our way to being "in business." Which makes this country move.
Labor isn't a political party here. Labor is something we do, not who we are. Labor isn't a party but a reason to. Party, that is.
We don't vote for labor here. In this New World, we don't cotton much to the idea of labor as a permanent class. Besides, who represents labor in America? The Republicans or the Democrats or the Libertarians or the Socialists or the independents or some other party that will crop up tomorrow, claiming to represent the workers? Is H. Ross Payroll still around?
Is there any way to walk in a factory in the United States of America and determine a body's political party by the job they're doing? Heck no and thank God! There are many workers in America who don't begrudge the Kochs or the Buffetts a thing. And may aspire to join their ranks one day.
Being good Americans, today we will celebrate labor by . . . taking the day off work. And what will we do on our day off work? Being good Americans, we'll work. ("The business of America is business."--Coolidge, C.)
Sure, only a few will actually go to jobs. Pilots gotta fly, lifeguards gotta swim. And emergency rooms won't staff themselves. But most of us will celebrate this last bit of summer by washing the car, or emptying the gutters, or painting the deck, or changing the oil. Only then will we do the important stuff. Like cooking.
What'll it be today, America? How about an all-around American meal like omelets for breakfast, pizza for lunch and stir-fry for supper? And let the kids make some finger foods like egg rolls and seven-layer Mexican dip to nibble on throughout the day. Talk about taking pleasure in labor, make sure the kids save some for later.
AS LONG as business is good in this country, it will need labor. Which might explain why, among many things, the country's two major political parties remain relatively free of class ideology. That is, when compared to the European parties. Name a political party after labor? To do that, you'd have to think that labor and management weren't linked together in a symbiotic relationship, both improving or declining depending on how, yes, business is going.
Lest we forget, the Great Depression was a boon for the Socialist and Communist parties--and their equivalent on the right, which offered their own kind of panaceas. Desperate economic conditions are the seedbed of both Communism and fascism, which have a way of mirroring each other as they circle, prepping for war, as always. While both may have attracted Americans from time to time, they tend to lose their attraction as the economy improves. There is no force like prosperity to make people wary of changing the system, whatever the system.
Americans may get carried away now and then under the pressure of events and begin flirting with the theoretical, but basically we remain pragmatic. What else would you expect of a frontier people who had to live with reality--or die? Ideology fells no trees, plants no crops, raises no barns--or families. That takes work, and faith. No wonder the frontiersman had to know how to plow, shoot and pray.
Early labor unions in this country resembled producers' cooperatives. Not until the American Federation of Labor took shape did the idea of a permanent labor force acquire a measure of respectability. That was largely because of the AFL's emphasis on skilled labor and high standards--not class identity. When its president, Samuel Gompers, was asked what labor wanted, he did not draw a vision of the New Society or of a New Man or any other utopian figment. His response consisted of: More! More of this, more of that, more of what Americans want and what makes America great. And when labor got it, it wanted more of it. And as long as business was humming, and the pie got larger, there was more to go around. And always would be.
By the turn of the last century, as the American economy grew more industrialized, Americans' economic interests grew more differentiated--and hostile. Finley Peter Dunne's fictional Irish barkeep, Mr. Dooley, described the change this way: "Capital still pats labor on th' back, but on'y with an axe. Labor rayfuses to be threated as a frind. It wants to be threated as an inimy. It thinks it gets more that way. They are still a happy fam'ly, but it's more like an English fam'ly. They don't speak."
Now, many a clash and collaboration later, labor and capital have been joined in their struggles by management. All have come to recognize a common interest in preserving their--and the country's--competitive position in the world.
THERE IS a kind of labor, really a caricature of it, that degrades--pointless, unproductive, wasteful make-work that cannot be described as anything but an insult to human intelligence. "Most men would feel insulted," Henry David Thoreau once wrote, "if it were proposed to employ them in throwing stones over a wall and then in throwing them back, merely that they might earn their wages. But many are no more worthily employed now."
Now there are oh-so-modern, highly sophisticated forms of rote labor that come complete with pretentious verbiage ("a paradigm shift that will get us thinking outside the box") but are no less brutalizing.
If mindless, unproductive work is a curse, the rewarding kind of labor is one of the great blessings of life. "When I go into my garden with a spade and dig a bed," Emerson wrote, "I feel such an exhilaration and health that I discover that I have been defrauding myself all this time in letting others do for me what I should have done with my own hands." Which is why so many will prepare the garden for the fall today. Not to celebrate a holiday, but for exhilaration and health. And for broccoli and cauliflower.
This is the sort of labor to encourage even at a time when Americans are told we can now sit back and let machines do our work--and thinking--for us. Labor is so inseparable a part of life that to assign it to others, including our "thinking" machines, would be to let them do not just our working and thinking but our living for us, too.
That labor which serves man best ought to have an element of play, or even art, to it. The drudge may make the worst of workers. The best are worthy of their hire, and, more important, of their own self-respect.
Happy Labor Day.
Editorial on 09/03/2018