12-13-08, 9:33 am
Original source New American Media
When the day finally comes that Raul Flores loses his job, he will face a bitter search for another one. 'I've got a family to support, so I've got to do whatever it takes,' he says. 'It's going to be hard. The economic situation is not good, but I can't just wait for something to happen to me.'
That puts Flores in the same boat as millions of other U.S. workers. Last month alone 533,000 workers lost their jobs, the highest figure in 34 years. A week ago, the heads of the big three auto companies were in Washington DC, pleading for loans to keep their companies afloat. As a price, lawmakers and pundits told them they had to become 'leaner and meaner,' and in response, General Motors announced it would close nine plants and put tens of thousands of workers in the street. Ford and Chrysler described a similar job-elimination strategy.
What makes Flores special? He didn't just accept the elimination of his job. Instead, he sat in at the Chicago plant where he worked for six days, together with 240 other union members at Republic Windows and Doors.
Republic workers were not demanding the reopening of their closed factory. They've been fighting for severance and benefits to help them survive the unemployment they know awaits them. Yet their occupation can't help but raise deeper questions about the right of workers to their jobs. Can a return to the militant tactics of direct action, that produced the greatest gains in union membership, wages and job security in U.S. history, overturn 'the inescapable logic of the marketplace'? Can employers, and the banks that hold their credit lines, be forced to keep plants open?
