A dynamic area within the discipline of Sociology is the study of social movements. This field of research is far more dynamic than in the past—now various theories compete with each other, scholars advance new ideas and twists to old ideas, and scholarship has broken out of the stodgy ghetto of “collective behavior” to grow into its own vital area. The questions of “what is a movement?”, “where do movements come from?”, and “how do movements behave and succeed?” are vital questions that have been addressed for decades now, with many fascinating (although sometimes conflicting) answers (della Porta & Diani 2006). Yet almost none of this scholarly work has focused on the anarchist movement, surely one of the more dynamic and fascinating movements active today.
Anarchism is not, of course, merely a socio-political philosophy, as it has been mainly referenced in earlier chapters. Its proponents constitute a “movement”, a large collection of people who share similar attitudes, identities, and goals, and who are working towards (however awkwardly) some form of radical social change. This is how sociologist Mario Diani (1992) defines movements: networks of individuals and organizations who are linked by their common identification with that movement, who act in deliberate, extra-institutional ways to modify the structure of a society. Thus, even though “anarchism” refers to a set of immaterial culture (beliefs, theories, and traditions), it also refers to a constituency of real people who take that culture seriously enough to act upon it in the present. It is this present-day activity, this movement (as in “motion”, “trajectory”), that makes anarchism a subject worthy of study by sociolgoists.
Although movements are now routine research subjects for sociologists, some movements offer particularly complicated, contradictory, or counter-intuitive characteristics that befuddle scholars and impede scholarship. The objective of this chapter is to explore these problems of epistemology—the means by which we know something—in order to further the quest to better understand the anarchist movement. In doing so, we will tackle sticky issues of definition, the hurdles that stand in the way of studying anarchists, and the factors which make the aforementioned epistemological problems more formidable for anarchism than for most other movements.
The issues discussed in this chapter may be focused in order to serve a number of practical ends. For example, conventional scholars—say, sociologists—may wish to study anarchists or an anarchist movement. The matters to be discussed herein could help such scholars to focus their research questions, properly operationalize their variables, define appropriate sampling frames, design and administer surveys, or even locate and navigate an anarchist scene ethnographically. Equally important, is this chapter's value to journalists, whether mainstream news reporters, college newspaper editors, web-bloggers, or zine writers. Knowing more about these epistemological questions helps to provide the important nuance necessary to understand anarchism in a way that facilitates useful and meaningful communication to desired audiences. Or, anarchists themselves may benefit from this chapter, as it raises issues—and in some instances, controversies—about that movement. Presumably, to grapple with a wide range of epistemological questions serves not to just intellectually challenge anarchists, but to provide them with appropriate analytical ideas that could grow and strengthen their movement.
References
della Porta, Donatella and Mario Diani. 2006. Social Movements: An Introduction. Malden, MA: Blackwell.
Diani, Mario. 1992. “The Concept of Social Movement”. The Sociological Review, 40 (1), February: 1-24.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Program Notes: Special Issue of Working USA on Anarcho-Syndicalism and Unions
Contemporary anarchists have played an increasingly central role in social movements, as witnessed by militant protest at global economic summits. In terms of participation and theoretical contribution and aesthetic, anarchists have strongly influenced the direction of the global justice movement, as well as been themselves influenced by radical grassroots efforts throughout the world, such as the Zapatistas and Peoples' Global Action. It is safe to say that the anarchist movement—thought dead and buried from the early 20th century—has been resurrected and is alive and well.
This special issue of Working USA attempts to take stock of these new developments and what their implications are for class analysis, working class struggle, and labor movements. Part of this accounting involves the study of on-going anarchist actions, while also demanding a historical perspective that considers the integral role of labor in the anarchist movement's development. Numerous contributors to this issue address these concerns, while others step-back to appreciate the theoretical relationships between anarchism and Marxism, technology, and the working class more broadly.
The issue begins with Williams noting a mixture of “new social movement” (NSM) and class-based characteristics in modern anarchism. The NSMs (such as environmental and peace movements) have allegedly rejected class-based struggle in favor of political and cultural forms of struggle. Additional NSM concerns include new constituencies, radical and horizontal organizational structures, and new collective identities, which do pertain to the anarchist movement. Yet, the conceptual landscape is so muddled that it calls into questions the relevance of categories like “NSM”, especially regarding a revolutionary movement, where many anarchists identify as “working class”, belong to labor unions, and claim economic-oriented ideologies such as “anarcho-syndicalist” and “anarcho-communist”.
Robinson's study shows that anarchists living in the central United States—supposedly uninterested in class, unions, and the like, and far away from the more “red anarchist” East Coast—regularly articulated claims revolving around class, participated in radical unions (namely the Industrial Workers of the World or IWW), and critiqued capitalism as a major corrupting influence in society (in the “criminal justice system”, militarism, and day-to-day economic existence). This research gives the necessary qualitative texture to compliment Williams's quantitative study by providing in-depth evidence from an individual anarchist collective. This anarchist collective's actions point to the “continuing significance of class” in anarchist organizing. Robinson's essay also critiques the recent tendency of social movement observers to overlook or ignore class elements and she advocates for a continued appreciation of class inequality and class struggle.
Anarchists have also frequently participated in the labor movement itself. Shantz's essay reflects the consistent anarchist concern for working people and their rights to workplace freedoms, while simultaneously critiquing hierarchical business unionism that dominates many large labor unions. He argues for radical activism within mainstream unions, through a strategy of “flying squads”. These autonomous groupings of unionists within unions can provide support for the organizing work of marginalized groups, such as immigrant workers, as Shantz documents with the example of the overwhelmingly female and immigrant hotel workers in Ontario, Canada. Flying squads represent an anarchist appreciation of organization and democracy, while attempting to create self-empowered workers who are collectively independent of both their supervisors and union leadership.
Still, despite the undeniable presence of working-class anarchists and anarchist participation in the labor movement, this does not mean that modern anarchism is wholly analogous to the anarchist-infused labor movements of the early 1900s. There are categorical differences between the contemporary anarchist movement and the militant anarcho-syndicalist movements that began in the late 19th Century and had their heyday (and brutal curtain call) in Spain in the 1930s. James Joll and others have noted elsewhere that there is no strong, continuous connection between “classic” anarchism and the movement's re-birth in the 1960s. Christiansen addresses the interesting question of how a rejuvenated movement can continue a decades-old legacy. His multi-method study of the IWW in the US explores how the radical union has re-established itself using both its traditional principles of direct action, but also influenced by the ideology of anarchism. The fall of the USSR benefited both the IWW and modern anarchism, and each benefited from the other in this post-Soviet period. Symbiosis has results as anarchists joined the IWW and the IWW has become more anarchist. Although Christiansen notes some problems between the two, the IWW's classic “narrative” has helped to introduce modern “Wobblies” and anarchists to the IWW's history.
Another historical episode running in tandem with the Wobblies in the US was the Italian-American Galleanisti movement. Wellbrook’s reconsiders the Galleanisti and situates them within the US's violent labor history, portending to show that their militancy was not wildly out-of-step with militant working-class resistance that regularly faced-off against violent capitalist offensives. Combined with the death sentence to two Galleanisti Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti for murder, the Galleanisti's radical rhetoric and bombing campaign (notably their suspected bombing of Wall Street) helps to conjure up the worst, rigid caricatures of “mad-bomber anarchists”, but Wellbrook presents them as merely one violent element within an intensely turbulent period of American class conflict (also see the review of Adamic's re-printed Dynamite! on American class violence in this issue). The fierce rhetoric and action of the Galleanisti dovetailed with the US entry into World War I to provide justifications for the social repression of anarchists, labor unionists, and immigrants (especially Italian-Americans and Russian-born), although employer-initiated violence and WWI were clearly responsible for more death and chaos in the US.
Even earlier in US history, and definitely prior to the USSR, the lines between Marxism and anarchism were less clear, although not unimportant. Pinta contributes to a synthesis of these two ideological strains by discussing another prominent incident in labor history (which also happened to involve a bomb): the Haymarket Affair. The efforts to establish the Eight-Hour Day came to be known as the Chicago Idea, which Pinta describes as a unique amalgamation of revolutionary unionism, post-Paris Commune socialism, and pre-figurative and anti-authoritarian anarchism.
Turcato also sees strong connections between labor and anarchism, largely through the words and actions of Italian anarchist Errico Malatesta. For Turcato, the various anarchist ideologies of the 1890s are not so interesting for their theoretical differences, but for their tactical approaches. One approach favors labor organization and collective action, while another approach tended to be wary of large organizations and unions, instead favoring autonomous actions. Although collectivists and communist strains of anarchism (as well as organizationalists and anti-organizationists) were strongly rooted in working class communities, activists differed about the constitution of the future anarchist society as well as the means to achieve it. Malatesta and others constructed a pluralist anarchism that would tolerate ideological differences, treating such differences as “hypotheses” for which sufficient evidence was not yet available. This “anarchism without adjectives” is still a useful concept in modern anarchism, especially with “small-a anarchism”.
The theoretical basis of old anarchism is a worthy subject of debate – particularly how it informs the present – but anarchist theory is still being developed and merged with other theoretical traditions (e.g. feminism, post-modernism, post-colonialism). The ideological and organizational differences present in anarchism also appear in the division between anarchism and autonomist Marxism. Gautney explores the positions held by various contemporary anti-authoritarians, which she argues partially reflects historical differences between anarchism and Marxism. New anarchism shares commonalities with the autonomous Marxist tradition, for example the Italian Autonomia, in principles of prefiguation, anti-authoritarianism, and anti-capitalism. Both anarchism and autonomism have coalesced to inspire projects throughout the world, including social centers, Food Not Bombs collectives, and direct action-oriented networks. Gautney's essay raises the question of where autonomism ends and anarchism begins (or the opposite), and whether this question is ultimately worth answering.
Other philosophical and tactical questions that persist through the anarchist movement include the role of technology in revolutionary movements. Gordon explores this theme, building on his recent book Anarchy Alive (also reviewed in this issue). He compares Promethean anti-capitalism – which sees (limited) technology as useful for liberation – and modern-day primitivism that cynically considers all technology to be created out of unequal power relations and authority. Although some claim that technology is “neutral”, Gordon discusses Langdon Winner's arguments that wide-spread technological developments change patterns of social relations, thereby changing society. Consequently, the invention and deployment of technology has clear political consequences, particularly as it is used for the control and domination of some people by others (namely the state and corporations). Alternately, many technologies have enabled greater (or perhaps merely different) forms of social relationships, which have benefited anarchist organizers: computers, telecommunications, and information technologies. Gordon's appraisal of technology is smartly nuanced, principled and practical at the same time, calling for an applied application of certain discarded technologies, classic folk knowledge, and other scaled technologies useful in anarchist efforts.
This special issue of Working USA is rounded out by a philosophical discussion of anarchist theory, particularly as an ethical theory and practice. Jun argues that classical anarchism has always had a solid ethical foundation, routinely dismissed by other leftists as Utopian, unscientific, or anti-intellectual. However, anarchism involves strong, principled values of freedom and equality, which, according to Jun, cannot be easily disentangled. More importantly, for this issue, classical anarchism has been deeply rooted in the working classes of European societies. The very method of delivery for anarchism – serials, pamphlets, soap-box speeches – contains a uniquely populist character that sets it apart from much of the Marxist left. Anarchism has tended to emphasize both thought and action, considering them to be entwined practices, which demonstrates that anarchism has not been adverse to theory, but merely inappropriately suited for the kind of theory typically generated by “intellectuals” and academics. Although Jun thinks that the character of contemporary anarchism has yet to be as working class as “classical” anarchism, he notes trends that could be changing this—trends observed within this issue's first three essays. He ends his essay with a call to enliven efforts to generate anarchist theory, via inspirational words and actions.
These ten essays may be viewed as calls for greater attention to anarchism within the labor movement and its connection to working class politics. The editors of this special issue of Working USA hope that the ideas contained here will be useful for deeper reflection, future re-articulation, and reinvigorated action on the part of labor and social movement scholars, anarchist activists, and the rank-and-file of today's working classes.
This special issue of Working USA attempts to take stock of these new developments and what their implications are for class analysis, working class struggle, and labor movements. Part of this accounting involves the study of on-going anarchist actions, while also demanding a historical perspective that considers the integral role of labor in the anarchist movement's development. Numerous contributors to this issue address these concerns, while others step-back to appreciate the theoretical relationships between anarchism and Marxism, technology, and the working class more broadly.
The issue begins with Williams noting a mixture of “new social movement” (NSM) and class-based characteristics in modern anarchism. The NSMs (such as environmental and peace movements) have allegedly rejected class-based struggle in favor of political and cultural forms of struggle. Additional NSM concerns include new constituencies, radical and horizontal organizational structures, and new collective identities, which do pertain to the anarchist movement. Yet, the conceptual landscape is so muddled that it calls into questions the relevance of categories like “NSM”, especially regarding a revolutionary movement, where many anarchists identify as “working class”, belong to labor unions, and claim economic-oriented ideologies such as “anarcho-syndicalist” and “anarcho-communist”.
Robinson's study shows that anarchists living in the central United States—supposedly uninterested in class, unions, and the like, and far away from the more “red anarchist” East Coast—regularly articulated claims revolving around class, participated in radical unions (namely the Industrial Workers of the World or IWW), and critiqued capitalism as a major corrupting influence in society (in the “criminal justice system”, militarism, and day-to-day economic existence). This research gives the necessary qualitative texture to compliment Williams's quantitative study by providing in-depth evidence from an individual anarchist collective. This anarchist collective's actions point to the “continuing significance of class” in anarchist organizing. Robinson's essay also critiques the recent tendency of social movement observers to overlook or ignore class elements and she advocates for a continued appreciation of class inequality and class struggle.
Anarchists have also frequently participated in the labor movement itself. Shantz's essay reflects the consistent anarchist concern for working people and their rights to workplace freedoms, while simultaneously critiquing hierarchical business unionism that dominates many large labor unions. He argues for radical activism within mainstream unions, through a strategy of “flying squads”. These autonomous groupings of unionists within unions can provide support for the organizing work of marginalized groups, such as immigrant workers, as Shantz documents with the example of the overwhelmingly female and immigrant hotel workers in Ontario, Canada. Flying squads represent an anarchist appreciation of organization and democracy, while attempting to create self-empowered workers who are collectively independent of both their supervisors and union leadership.
Still, despite the undeniable presence of working-class anarchists and anarchist participation in the labor movement, this does not mean that modern anarchism is wholly analogous to the anarchist-infused labor movements of the early 1900s. There are categorical differences between the contemporary anarchist movement and the militant anarcho-syndicalist movements that began in the late 19th Century and had their heyday (and brutal curtain call) in Spain in the 1930s. James Joll and others have noted elsewhere that there is no strong, continuous connection between “classic” anarchism and the movement's re-birth in the 1960s. Christiansen addresses the interesting question of how a rejuvenated movement can continue a decades-old legacy. His multi-method study of the IWW in the US explores how the radical union has re-established itself using both its traditional principles of direct action, but also influenced by the ideology of anarchism. The fall of the USSR benefited both the IWW and modern anarchism, and each benefited from the other in this post-Soviet period. Symbiosis has results as anarchists joined the IWW and the IWW has become more anarchist. Although Christiansen notes some problems between the two, the IWW's classic “narrative” has helped to introduce modern “Wobblies” and anarchists to the IWW's history.
Another historical episode running in tandem with the Wobblies in the US was the Italian-American Galleanisti movement. Wellbrook’s reconsiders the Galleanisti and situates them within the US's violent labor history, portending to show that their militancy was not wildly out-of-step with militant working-class resistance that regularly faced-off against violent capitalist offensives. Combined with the death sentence to two Galleanisti Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti for murder, the Galleanisti's radical rhetoric and bombing campaign (notably their suspected bombing of Wall Street) helps to conjure up the worst, rigid caricatures of “mad-bomber anarchists”, but Wellbrook presents them as merely one violent element within an intensely turbulent period of American class conflict (also see the review of Adamic's re-printed Dynamite! on American class violence in this issue). The fierce rhetoric and action of the Galleanisti dovetailed with the US entry into World War I to provide justifications for the social repression of anarchists, labor unionists, and immigrants (especially Italian-Americans and Russian-born), although employer-initiated violence and WWI were clearly responsible for more death and chaos in the US.
Even earlier in US history, and definitely prior to the USSR, the lines between Marxism and anarchism were less clear, although not unimportant. Pinta contributes to a synthesis of these two ideological strains by discussing another prominent incident in labor history (which also happened to involve a bomb): the Haymarket Affair. The efforts to establish the Eight-Hour Day came to be known as the Chicago Idea, which Pinta describes as a unique amalgamation of revolutionary unionism, post-Paris Commune socialism, and pre-figurative and anti-authoritarian anarchism.
Turcato also sees strong connections between labor and anarchism, largely through the words and actions of Italian anarchist Errico Malatesta. For Turcato, the various anarchist ideologies of the 1890s are not so interesting for their theoretical differences, but for their tactical approaches. One approach favors labor organization and collective action, while another approach tended to be wary of large organizations and unions, instead favoring autonomous actions. Although collectivists and communist strains of anarchism (as well as organizationalists and anti-organizationists) were strongly rooted in working class communities, activists differed about the constitution of the future anarchist society as well as the means to achieve it. Malatesta and others constructed a pluralist anarchism that would tolerate ideological differences, treating such differences as “hypotheses” for which sufficient evidence was not yet available. This “anarchism without adjectives” is still a useful concept in modern anarchism, especially with “small-a anarchism”.
The theoretical basis of old anarchism is a worthy subject of debate – particularly how it informs the present – but anarchist theory is still being developed and merged with other theoretical traditions (e.g. feminism, post-modernism, post-colonialism). The ideological and organizational differences present in anarchism also appear in the division between anarchism and autonomist Marxism. Gautney explores the positions held by various contemporary anti-authoritarians, which she argues partially reflects historical differences between anarchism and Marxism. New anarchism shares commonalities with the autonomous Marxist tradition, for example the Italian Autonomia, in principles of prefiguation, anti-authoritarianism, and anti-capitalism. Both anarchism and autonomism have coalesced to inspire projects throughout the world, including social centers, Food Not Bombs collectives, and direct action-oriented networks. Gautney's essay raises the question of where autonomism ends and anarchism begins (or the opposite), and whether this question is ultimately worth answering.
Other philosophical and tactical questions that persist through the anarchist movement include the role of technology in revolutionary movements. Gordon explores this theme, building on his recent book Anarchy Alive (also reviewed in this issue). He compares Promethean anti-capitalism – which sees (limited) technology as useful for liberation – and modern-day primitivism that cynically considers all technology to be created out of unequal power relations and authority. Although some claim that technology is “neutral”, Gordon discusses Langdon Winner's arguments that wide-spread technological developments change patterns of social relations, thereby changing society. Consequently, the invention and deployment of technology has clear political consequences, particularly as it is used for the control and domination of some people by others (namely the state and corporations). Alternately, many technologies have enabled greater (or perhaps merely different) forms of social relationships, which have benefited anarchist organizers: computers, telecommunications, and information technologies. Gordon's appraisal of technology is smartly nuanced, principled and practical at the same time, calling for an applied application of certain discarded technologies, classic folk knowledge, and other scaled technologies useful in anarchist efforts.
This special issue of Working USA is rounded out by a philosophical discussion of anarchist theory, particularly as an ethical theory and practice. Jun argues that classical anarchism has always had a solid ethical foundation, routinely dismissed by other leftists as Utopian, unscientific, or anti-intellectual. However, anarchism involves strong, principled values of freedom and equality, which, according to Jun, cannot be easily disentangled. More importantly, for this issue, classical anarchism has been deeply rooted in the working classes of European societies. The very method of delivery for anarchism – serials, pamphlets, soap-box speeches – contains a uniquely populist character that sets it apart from much of the Marxist left. Anarchism has tended to emphasize both thought and action, considering them to be entwined practices, which demonstrates that anarchism has not been adverse to theory, but merely inappropriately suited for the kind of theory typically generated by “intellectuals” and academics. Although Jun thinks that the character of contemporary anarchism has yet to be as working class as “classical” anarchism, he notes trends that could be changing this—trends observed within this issue's first three essays. He ends his essay with a call to enliven efforts to generate anarchist theory, via inspirational words and actions.
These ten essays may be viewed as calls for greater attention to anarchism within the labor movement and its connection to working class politics. The editors of this special issue of Working USA hope that the ideas contained here will be useful for deeper reflection, future re-articulation, and reinvigorated action on the part of labor and social movement scholars, anarchist activists, and the rank-and-file of today's working classes.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Other Critiques and Conclusions of Work and Organization at Mondragón
Hacker and Elcorobairutia (1987) argue that although Mondragón does facilitate better conditions for women – mainly as surpluses returned back to the community in the form of health, education, and welfare – “women’s place in noncapitalist workplaces is as disadvantaged as in capitalist workplaces” (p. 373). They attribute much of this problem to the dual responsibility women have for home and children that “supposedly excludes them from equal roles in participatory workplace or community democracy” (p. 374). However, women usually earn higher wages in Basque cooperatives than in private firms, although not on par with the men in such firms. Women also played a major role in the Ulgor strike, and after the strike was broken, two-thirds of the members fired were women (Kasmir 1996).
Anarchists have lobbied similar criticisms as those noted above at Mondragón. While observing approvingly that the fundamental nature of a capitalist enterprise – the monopolization of capital and control by use of hired labor – is subverted, management is still not elected directly by managers.[1] Additionally, Benello (1996) observes that most of Mondragón’s output is not designated for local consumption, it makes little effort to export its ideology outside of the complex to other firms, and is openly antagonistic (in fact, bans) unions. Even so, Benello argues that Mondragón is unique for its synthesis of both collective and individual interests, its very clear alternative to both capitalist and state-socialist modes of production, and for offering a strong model for both organization and decentralization (two highly-valued anarchist principles).
Mondragón has created a unique and valuable alternative to typical corporations by forming relatively autonomous cooperatives that are owned by the members who work in them and are run democratically by decisions made in elected councils. In the spirit of this cooperatism, the role of workplace democracy has been experimented with and implemented in varying ways with varying degrees of success. Many have argued that although there have been great victories won in terms of cooperative ownership, governance and (less-so) in the workplace, Mondragón is losing its cooperative nature and becoming more like other multinational corporations. In one key respect – un-elected management – Mondragón has always been like such mainstream corporations. Through all these changes, it continues to be one of the most discussed, praised, criticized, debated, and studied cooperative projects in recent human history, and its importance continues to grow.
Notes
[1] In fact, the mere existence of management hierarchy is, in this respect, problematic.
References
Benello, George. 1996. “The Challenge of Mondragon”. Pp. 211-220 in Reinventing Anarchy, Again, edited by H. J. Ehrlich. Edinburgh: AK Press.
Hacker, Sally L. and Clara Elcorobairutia. 1987. “Women Workers in the Mondragon System of Industrial Cooperatives”. Gender & Society, 1 (4), December: 358-379.
Kasmir, Sharryn. 1996. The Myth of Mondragón: Cooperatives, Politics, and Working-Class Life in a Basque Town. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Anarchists have lobbied similar criticisms as those noted above at Mondragón. While observing approvingly that the fundamental nature of a capitalist enterprise – the monopolization of capital and control by use of hired labor – is subverted, management is still not elected directly by managers.[1] Additionally, Benello (1996) observes that most of Mondragón’s output is not designated for local consumption, it makes little effort to export its ideology outside of the complex to other firms, and is openly antagonistic (in fact, bans) unions. Even so, Benello argues that Mondragón is unique for its synthesis of both collective and individual interests, its very clear alternative to both capitalist and state-socialist modes of production, and for offering a strong model for both organization and decentralization (two highly-valued anarchist principles).
Mondragón has created a unique and valuable alternative to typical corporations by forming relatively autonomous cooperatives that are owned by the members who work in them and are run democratically by decisions made in elected councils. In the spirit of this cooperatism, the role of workplace democracy has been experimented with and implemented in varying ways with varying degrees of success. Many have argued that although there have been great victories won in terms of cooperative ownership, governance and (less-so) in the workplace, Mondragón is losing its cooperative nature and becoming more like other multinational corporations. In one key respect – un-elected management – Mondragón has always been like such mainstream corporations. Through all these changes, it continues to be one of the most discussed, praised, criticized, debated, and studied cooperative projects in recent human history, and its importance continues to grow.
Notes
[1] In fact, the mere existence of management hierarchy is, in this respect, problematic.
References
Benello, George. 1996. “The Challenge of Mondragon”. Pp. 211-220 in Reinventing Anarchy, Again, edited by H. J. Ehrlich. Edinburgh: AK Press.
Hacker, Sally L. and Clara Elcorobairutia. 1987. “Women Workers in the Mondragon System of Industrial Cooperatives”. Gender & Society, 1 (4), December: 358-379.
Kasmir, Sharryn. 1996. The Myth of Mondragón: Cooperatives, Politics, and Working-Class Life in a Basque Town. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Effects of Internationalization and Globalization on Mondragón
Gunn (2000) and others (Errasti, et al. 2003) argue that the increased international integration of the world economy (a.k.a. “globalization”) have adversely affected Mondragón, primarily in its ability to retain its unique and democratic features. “[T]he trend toward greater reliance on markets of the past two decades has made it more difficult for initiatives in workplace democracy to survive” (p. 448). He also notes that “the day-to-day objective of democratically-managed firms is the maximization of some combination of income per member and employment stability” (p. 451), factors which are beginning to disappear. For instance, some Mondragón firms have begun hiring non-member workers (cooperative equivalent of other companies hiring “temp workers”). Cultural pressure has arisen for greater individualism and hierarchy in place of the ideal of “socially-coordinated governance structures”. There has also been continual pressure within management for increased pay differentials.[1] All of these factors have contributed to a greater gap in power amongst workers and managers in Mondragón.
Some potential “pros” of globalization – or “the marketization of employee participation” – are detailed by Cheney (2001/2002): a sense of realism about market pressures, a sense of greater customer and consumer responsiveness, increased competitiveness in industry, a unity of objective and language for all employees, and an aesthetic of entrepreneurship at the individual and work team level. Cheney, however, does not describe all these changes positively, and further notes the following globalization “cons”: the [further] subordination of the member’s role as employee with an overriding emphasis on external and internal markets, undermining opportunities for greater cooperation in and outside of the organization, displacement of key social values of Mondragón (for the sake of “efficiency”), increased responsibility and stress without substantial self-determination for employees, and a neglect for the potential role that such larger firms can play in promoting social values and shaping the market itself. In short, Mondragón is facing similar, if not more extreme due to its originally progressive nature, threats to its traditional organization that standard capitalist firms are due to international integration and “globalization”.
Miller (2001/2002) comments that during a visit to Mondragón, he heard a lot of internal discussion about “responding to the market”, but little about “shaping the market”. Both approaches assume a standard capitalist interaction, while a change in workplace roles and organization is neither implicit nor necessary for either. As Johnson and Whyte (1977) remarked about labor unrest in the 1970s and Mondragón’s less than sympathetic response to it, Miller criticizes Mondragón for not fully supporting and working with labor unions for creating “alternatives to the unfettered free market” – although still honoring a General Strike in Spain during 1994. Moye (1993) cites an internal study of Mondragón that found nearly one-fourth of members interested in leaving the cooperatives if private firm positions of a comparable nature were available, and only two-thirds were confident they would stay. Although job satisfaction is still favorable compared to most capitalist firms, this is an especially high-level of dis-ease for Mondragón.
Notes
[1] The original maximum pay differential was 1:3 (worker to management), but has since increased in some firms to as much as 1:10.
References
Cheney, George. 2001/2002. “Mondragon Cooperatives”. Social Policy, Winter: 4-9.
Errasti, Anjel Mari, Inaki Heras, Baleren Bakaikoa, and Pilar Elgoibar. 2003. “The Internationalisation of Cooperatives: The Case of the Mondragon Corporation”. Annals of Public and Cooperative Economics, 74 (2): 553-584.
Gunn, Chrostopher. 2000. “Markets Against Economic Democracy”. Review of Radical Political Economy, 32 (3): 448-460.
Johnson, Ana Gutierrez and William Foote Whyte. 1977. “The Mondragon System of Worker Production Cooperatives”. Industrial and Labor Relations Review, 31 (1), October: 18-30.
Miller, Mike. 2001/2002. “Mondragon: Lessons For Our Times”. Social Policy, Winter: 17-20.
Moye, A. Melissa. 1993. "Mondragon: Adapting Co-operative Structures to Meet the Demands of a Changing Environment". Economic and Industrial Democracy, 14: 251-276.
Some potential “pros” of globalization – or “the marketization of employee participation” – are detailed by Cheney (2001/2002): a sense of realism about market pressures, a sense of greater customer and consumer responsiveness, increased competitiveness in industry, a unity of objective and language for all employees, and an aesthetic of entrepreneurship at the individual and work team level. Cheney, however, does not describe all these changes positively, and further notes the following globalization “cons”: the [further] subordination of the member’s role as employee with an overriding emphasis on external and internal markets, undermining opportunities for greater cooperation in and outside of the organization, displacement of key social values of Mondragón (for the sake of “efficiency”), increased responsibility and stress without substantial self-determination for employees, and a neglect for the potential role that such larger firms can play in promoting social values and shaping the market itself. In short, Mondragón is facing similar, if not more extreme due to its originally progressive nature, threats to its traditional organization that standard capitalist firms are due to international integration and “globalization”.
Miller (2001/2002) comments that during a visit to Mondragón, he heard a lot of internal discussion about “responding to the market”, but little about “shaping the market”. Both approaches assume a standard capitalist interaction, while a change in workplace roles and organization is neither implicit nor necessary for either. As Johnson and Whyte (1977) remarked about labor unrest in the 1970s and Mondragón’s less than sympathetic response to it, Miller criticizes Mondragón for not fully supporting and working with labor unions for creating “alternatives to the unfettered free market” – although still honoring a General Strike in Spain during 1994. Moye (1993) cites an internal study of Mondragón that found nearly one-fourth of members interested in leaving the cooperatives if private firm positions of a comparable nature were available, and only two-thirds were confident they would stay. Although job satisfaction is still favorable compared to most capitalist firms, this is an especially high-level of dis-ease for Mondragón.
Notes
[1] The original maximum pay differential was 1:3 (worker to management), but has since increased in some firms to as much as 1:10.
References
Cheney, George. 2001/2002. “Mondragon Cooperatives”. Social Policy, Winter: 4-9.
Errasti, Anjel Mari, Inaki Heras, Baleren Bakaikoa, and Pilar Elgoibar. 2003. “The Internationalisation of Cooperatives: The Case of the Mondragon Corporation”. Annals of Public and Cooperative Economics, 74 (2): 553-584.
Gunn, Chrostopher. 2000. “Markets Against Economic Democracy”. Review of Radical Political Economy, 32 (3): 448-460.
Johnson, Ana Gutierrez and William Foote Whyte. 1977. “The Mondragon System of Worker Production Cooperatives”. Industrial and Labor Relations Review, 31 (1), October: 18-30.
Miller, Mike. 2001/2002. “Mondragon: Lessons For Our Times”. Social Policy, Winter: 17-20.
Moye, A. Melissa. 1993. "Mondragon: Adapting Co-operative Structures to Meet the Demands of a Changing Environment". Economic and Industrial Democracy, 14: 251-276.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Workplace Reorganization Within Mondragón
The classic work done by William Whyte (1977, 1988, 1999) has shown the greatest detail and attention towards the specific changes in workplace organization itself. Cooperative governance – through the general assembly, governing councils, and social councils – were the only ways that members usually participated in decision making in Mondragón until the early 1970s. Although is was democratic in the sense that workers voted for representatives for these councils and assemblies, they could not vote directly for those who had the greatest immediate impact upon their lives: managers.[1]
As of that point, worker democracy was slowly and selectively extended to the workplace itself in certain Mondragón firms. Whyte and Whyte (1988) ascribe this change to progressive managers and the influx of information about worker democracy experiments in other places in Europe. Javier Mongelos, a new general manager at Fagor Electrontécnica, was originally a trained physicist who took Mondragón’s values to heart. He came to three main conclusions that helped spur change: 1) the personnel department should link economic and technical objectives to the social concerns of members, 2) growing discontent at work was the result of a fundamental conflict between worker democracy and Taylorist “scientific management”, and 3) new forms of work organization that are both economically efficient and “in harmony with the social values on which the cooperative movement [is] based” should be explored (p. 114).
Whyte and Whyte note that the Copreci firm was the first to attempt and had the greatest success in adapting production organization processes to benefit workplace democracy. The production technology it used was relatively easy to re-adapt and management was overall sympathetic to the changes Mongelos had devised. Copreci’s personnel department conducted a job satisfaction survey, from which they discovered “substantial dissatisfaction” with two specific work sections. The firm decided to target reorganization efforts at the section most easily changed. It formed a committee to study management changes to make, a committee that was made up of more than half by workers themselves. The committee “studied and discussed the productivity and quality problems in its operations, production requirements, and the relations among workers and between them and management” (p. 116).
From this committee, an experimental group formed that would try out the new scheme it had developed. A work table, where workers were seated around, replaced the standard conveyor belt where workers stood along. They set their own work rhythm and were able to exchange information and ideas about the work process itself. The workers rotated tasks and would switch what they were doing to pick up the slack when certain tasks needed more attention. This allowed the workers to learn all tasks and to manage their own labor requirements. Over time, they gained skill and confidence for the entire product, and began taking over supervisory and staff functions like requisitioning tools and materials and recording their own output. In effect, these Copreci workers began taking on the role of both worker and manager, as in many traditional cooperatives that lack a workplace hierarchy. Insofar as supervisors were retained, their responsibilities – especially previous disciplinary responsibilities – changed.
A review done over a decade later regarding the changes at Copreci found that workers could more easily visualize their own contributions to the product they made, workers and management concentrated efforts on total product (making themselves more flexible to consumer demands), and the “research and development” process was strengthened. Uniquely to Copreci, both workers and management spoke highly of the changes, and were glad to be relieved of the “terrible monotony” of assembly lines.
None of the following firms went as far as Copreci or were as successful in their work changes, but the successes and failures are both interesting and often noteworthy. A report from 1985 notes that ULARCO (a major component of the Mondragón complex) had 83 active workgroups from the early 1970s to the early 1980s. Whyte and Whyte (1988) conclude that new work changes had gone relatively dormant after this period.
Ederlan eliminated foreman positions as work groups took over supervisory responsibilities. The change did not last, and the firm reverted back to its original organization. Fagor Electrotécnica divided its large workforce into small work groups, and began rotating tasks, organizing their own work, doing quality control inspections, and requisitioning their own materials and tools. Ulgor attempted to change from an assembly line to smaller work groups, but there was a lack of physical space for this. In the end, “changes proved to be neither far-reaching nor enduring” (Whyte and Whyte 1988, p. 120). Lenniz’s re-organization was also a complete failure, with workers lacking the knowledge and skills to run newer machines without management coordination, which had been eliminated.
Arrasate started holding biweekly meetings to exchange information and plan its work. In doing so, workers began to take on greater responsibilities and eventually eliminated the position of quality inspector. Then, management switched the organization of production from function-based to product-based. In doing so, the workplace was greatly disrupted and the transition was very slow. While production languished, the recession in Arrasate’s main industry (machine tools) forced the cooperative to refocus on the old process.
In one unique case during this experimental period, a brand new factory was to be built, and it was designed with a work group organizational model in mind, not the traditional assembly line design. This plant was part of the firm called Vergara. In this plant there were no foreman, only a few people who were responsible for overseeing various work groups and helping out when problems arise and getting necessary tools and materials. The plant’s organization continues to be wildly popular with its workers, but it hasn’t been a financial success yet. Whyte attributes this to the recession and the glut of Vergara’s main product, dishwashers, on the market.
Changes seemed to be most successful when there was a sympathetic existing management, an empowering and enfranchising process that allowed workers to have a say in changes to be made, and supportive external factors like a good economic situation for the product being made.
Notes
[1] Greenberg (1986) elaborates more cynically: “the general assembly meets only once a year… At this meeting, moreover, the agenda is largely controlled by management… Opportunities for participation are few and far between at Mondragón amounting, in the end, to little more than plebiscite-style elections once a year to approve or disapprove the current leadership team.” (pp. 103-108)
References
Greenberg, Edward S. 1986. Workplace Democracy: The Political Effects of Participation. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
Whyte, William Foote and Kathleen King Whyte. 1988. Making Mondragon: The Growth and Dynamics of The Worker Cooperative Complex. Ithica, NY: ILR Press.
Whyte, William F. 1999. “The Mondragón Cooperatives in 1976 and 1998”. Industrial and Labor Relations Review, 52 (3), April: 478-481.
As of that point, worker democracy was slowly and selectively extended to the workplace itself in certain Mondragón firms. Whyte and Whyte (1988) ascribe this change to progressive managers and the influx of information about worker democracy experiments in other places in Europe. Javier Mongelos, a new general manager at Fagor Electrontécnica, was originally a trained physicist who took Mondragón’s values to heart. He came to three main conclusions that helped spur change: 1) the personnel department should link economic and technical objectives to the social concerns of members, 2) growing discontent at work was the result of a fundamental conflict between worker democracy and Taylorist “scientific management”, and 3) new forms of work organization that are both economically efficient and “in harmony with the social values on which the cooperative movement [is] based” should be explored (p. 114).
Whyte and Whyte note that the Copreci firm was the first to attempt and had the greatest success in adapting production organization processes to benefit workplace democracy. The production technology it used was relatively easy to re-adapt and management was overall sympathetic to the changes Mongelos had devised. Copreci’s personnel department conducted a job satisfaction survey, from which they discovered “substantial dissatisfaction” with two specific work sections. The firm decided to target reorganization efforts at the section most easily changed. It formed a committee to study management changes to make, a committee that was made up of more than half by workers themselves. The committee “studied and discussed the productivity and quality problems in its operations, production requirements, and the relations among workers and between them and management” (p. 116).
From this committee, an experimental group formed that would try out the new scheme it had developed. A work table, where workers were seated around, replaced the standard conveyor belt where workers stood along. They set their own work rhythm and were able to exchange information and ideas about the work process itself. The workers rotated tasks and would switch what they were doing to pick up the slack when certain tasks needed more attention. This allowed the workers to learn all tasks and to manage their own labor requirements. Over time, they gained skill and confidence for the entire product, and began taking over supervisory and staff functions like requisitioning tools and materials and recording their own output. In effect, these Copreci workers began taking on the role of both worker and manager, as in many traditional cooperatives that lack a workplace hierarchy. Insofar as supervisors were retained, their responsibilities – especially previous disciplinary responsibilities – changed.
A review done over a decade later regarding the changes at Copreci found that workers could more easily visualize their own contributions to the product they made, workers and management concentrated efforts on total product (making themselves more flexible to consumer demands), and the “research and development” process was strengthened. Uniquely to Copreci, both workers and management spoke highly of the changes, and were glad to be relieved of the “terrible monotony” of assembly lines.
None of the following firms went as far as Copreci or were as successful in their work changes, but the successes and failures are both interesting and often noteworthy. A report from 1985 notes that ULARCO (a major component of the Mondragón complex) had 83 active workgroups from the early 1970s to the early 1980s. Whyte and Whyte (1988) conclude that new work changes had gone relatively dormant after this period.
Ederlan eliminated foreman positions as work groups took over supervisory responsibilities. The change did not last, and the firm reverted back to its original organization. Fagor Electrotécnica divided its large workforce into small work groups, and began rotating tasks, organizing their own work, doing quality control inspections, and requisitioning their own materials and tools. Ulgor attempted to change from an assembly line to smaller work groups, but there was a lack of physical space for this. In the end, “changes proved to be neither far-reaching nor enduring” (Whyte and Whyte 1988, p. 120). Lenniz’s re-organization was also a complete failure, with workers lacking the knowledge and skills to run newer machines without management coordination, which had been eliminated.
Arrasate started holding biweekly meetings to exchange information and plan its work. In doing so, workers began to take on greater responsibilities and eventually eliminated the position of quality inspector. Then, management switched the organization of production from function-based to product-based. In doing so, the workplace was greatly disrupted and the transition was very slow. While production languished, the recession in Arrasate’s main industry (machine tools) forced the cooperative to refocus on the old process.
In one unique case during this experimental period, a brand new factory was to be built, and it was designed with a work group organizational model in mind, not the traditional assembly line design. This plant was part of the firm called Vergara. In this plant there were no foreman, only a few people who were responsible for overseeing various work groups and helping out when problems arise and getting necessary tools and materials. The plant’s organization continues to be wildly popular with its workers, but it hasn’t been a financial success yet. Whyte attributes this to the recession and the glut of Vergara’s main product, dishwashers, on the market.
Changes seemed to be most successful when there was a sympathetic existing management, an empowering and enfranchising process that allowed workers to have a say in changes to be made, and supportive external factors like a good economic situation for the product being made.
Notes
[1] Greenberg (1986) elaborates more cynically: “the general assembly meets only once a year… At this meeting, moreover, the agenda is largely controlled by management… Opportunities for participation are few and far between at Mondragón amounting, in the end, to little more than plebiscite-style elections once a year to approve or disapprove the current leadership team.” (pp. 103-108)
References
Greenberg, Edward S. 1986. Workplace Democracy: The Political Effects of Participation. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
Whyte, William Foote and Kathleen King Whyte. 1988. Making Mondragon: The Growth and Dynamics of The Worker Cooperative Complex. Ithica, NY: ILR Press.
Whyte, William F. 1999. “The Mondragón Cooperatives in 1976 and 1998”. Industrial and Labor Relations Review, 52 (3), April: 478-481.
Friday, March 18, 2011
An Introduction to Work Changes Within Mondragón
[The Mondragón cooperatives in Spain's Basque region have been very interesting to me in the past (and a good number of other people I know, too). As a friend of mine once said: we in the US focus on creating little coops, like grocery stores, while the Mondragón are making industrial-scale stuff like refrigerators! Even given their many flaws (including ever-increasing corporatization and layers of internal-hierarchy), they are still an example of collective enterprise that flies in the face of neo-liberal arguments that "workers need bosses". Written [somewhat painfully] for a sociology of work class in Spring 2004.]
The Mondragón is a complex of worker cooperatives – primarily industrial in nature – located in the Basque region of Spain. It continues to be the largest federation of such cooperative corporations outside of the former Yugoslavia and China, and has, in many respects, been able to successfully compete with capitalist firms in a number of ways.
Due to the cooperative nature of these firms, the work relations are different than nearly any other capitalist company. Workers exercise not only ownership over the firms, but also a substantial level of governance over the firm’s macro-level decision making as well. In later decades, workers have taken on a greater role in work democracy for their day-to-day tasks. As members of the cooperative, they have an ownership share in the firm, and contribute to the governance of the firm directly on the job and through elected representatives of various councils.
Unlike some cooperatives where there is no delineation between management and worker[1], Mondragón firms typically have layers of management. Since there is a management structure, the Mondragón has not been immune from labor discontent and struggles. In the 1970s, workers and progressive managers spurred a number of work place reforms. But, this was not able to stop a strike at the Ulgor firm, one of the largest producers of refrigerators in Spain (Johnson and Whyte 1977).
The problem I wish to address is how work has changed within the Mondragón complex, both in terms of the organization of the workplace for members and the structural relationship within firms, such as that amongst worker and manager. A large part of this is how have democratic channels and the nature of self-determined work changed in the complex. Have some firms had easier times with democratic reforms than others? Which firms have had greater successes with work democracy and has this translated into greater success for these firms? How has recession and globalization affected how Mondragón operates? Has there been increasing worker discontent during the existence of Mondragón, or has it decreased since the 1970s? And how democratic has Mondragón as whole been evaluated? In answer the above questions, along with a brief history of Mondragón’s evolution, I hope to understand in what ways work and democracy has changed.
In Moye (1993), four distinct periods in Mondragón history are noted: expansion (1956-59), programmed development (1970-84), adaptation to the market (1985-90), and sectoralization (1991-present). These strategic periods describe the various changes that Mondragón has gone through as a group of cooperative companies and also in terms of work.
The early period of Mondragón (expansion) involves the initial formation and design of the complex, an idea that is commonly attributed to a Catholic priest named Fr. José Maria Arizmendi. He laid out the first draft of the constitution and by-laws for the first cooperative. These documents have formed the basis for every cooperative since. It was at this time (and under the influence of Arizmendi) that low wage ratios and the direct deposit of member shares into accounts were established as norm to keep both a low management hierarchy and a large pool of capital for a cooperative. With the establishment of a credit union to help the funding of additional cooperatives, the Caja Laboral Popular, and a cooperative educational system to help in job training, Mondragón began creating institutions to fulfill important needs that neither the marketplace nor the state would provide to cooperative organizations.
The period of “programmed development” saw both a rapid increase in the number of Mondragón firms and also the onslaught of a Spanish recession. As noted above and will be noted below, this period also saw an increase in labor struggles within Mondragón, including a strike (including retributive firing afterward), in addition to external union organizing throughout Spain. These efforts increased employment in Spain and the Basque region, and also led to much higher wage levels. Experiments and strategic changes in on-the-job work organization will be dealt with in the section titled “Workplace reorganization”. Bradley and Gelb (1986) write and analyze four responses typical of cooperatives in regards to recession, including 1) efficient adjustments by the more flexible wage labor, 2) cautious investments, 3) attempts to diversify, and 4) moral authority of a tight community and better information flows between members.
Adaptation to the market and sectoralization have both occurred in tandem with increased global integration (which is discussed in the section “Internationalization and globalization”) and corporatization following a multinational model whose essence is captured by the formation of the Mondragón Cooperative Corporation (MCC). Taylor (1994) remarks that by the late 1980s, the economic challenges faced by Mondragón were answered by “a more narrowly economic conception of efficiency” (p. 483). The preoccupation with “standard” capitalist concerns like “efficiency” continued to grow through out the 1990s.
Before looking at how work was reorganized in the 1970s, I would like to preface the discussion by looking at how workers have not behaved as theories have commonly predicted those in cooperatives to behave. Moye (1993) details four theoretical problems that besiege most cooperatives on a firm and societal level. First, theory suggests that members will restrict employment to increase the per member income. Second, it is thought that cooperative firms with collective capital funds will not offer sufficient incentives for its members to reinvest in the firm itself – and thus be driven to invest outside their firms. Third, new cooperatives will not have proper “external market discipline”. And fourth, there is allegedly a danger of a sale by cooperative members, since this is said to be the best way members can gain the full value of their investments. Moye concludes that, on all these accounts, Mondragón has overcome such issues by dealing with the related problems both directly and indirectly.
Notes
[1] See Rothschild-Whitt (1979) for more on cooperative alternatives to the rational-bureaucratic model, that eschews a separate management structure and hierarchy.
References
Bradley, Keith and Alan Gelb. 1986. “Cooperative Labour Relations: Mondragon’s Response to Recession”. British Journal of Industrial Relations, 25 (1), March: 77-97.
Johnson, Ana Gutierrez and William Foote Whyte. 1977. “The Mondragon System of Worker Production Cooperatives”. Industrial and Labor Relations Review, 31 (1), October: 18-30.
Moye, A. Melissa. 1993. "Mondragon: Adapting Co-operative Structures to Meet the Demands of a Changing Environment". Economic and Industrial Democracy, 14: 251-276.
Rothschild-Whitt, Joyce. 1979. “The Collectivist Organization: An Alternative to Rational-Bureaucratic Models”. American Sociological Review, 44, August: 509-527.
Taylor, Peter Leigh. 1994. “The Rhetorical Construction of Efficiency: Restructuring and Industrial Democracy in Mondragón, Spain”. Sociological Forum, 9 (3): 459-489.
The Mondragón is a complex of worker cooperatives – primarily industrial in nature – located in the Basque region of Spain. It continues to be the largest federation of such cooperative corporations outside of the former Yugoslavia and China, and has, in many respects, been able to successfully compete with capitalist firms in a number of ways.
Due to the cooperative nature of these firms, the work relations are different than nearly any other capitalist company. Workers exercise not only ownership over the firms, but also a substantial level of governance over the firm’s macro-level decision making as well. In later decades, workers have taken on a greater role in work democracy for their day-to-day tasks. As members of the cooperative, they have an ownership share in the firm, and contribute to the governance of the firm directly on the job and through elected representatives of various councils.
Unlike some cooperatives where there is no delineation between management and worker[1], Mondragón firms typically have layers of management. Since there is a management structure, the Mondragón has not been immune from labor discontent and struggles. In the 1970s, workers and progressive managers spurred a number of work place reforms. But, this was not able to stop a strike at the Ulgor firm, one of the largest producers of refrigerators in Spain (Johnson and Whyte 1977).
The problem I wish to address is how work has changed within the Mondragón complex, both in terms of the organization of the workplace for members and the structural relationship within firms, such as that amongst worker and manager. A large part of this is how have democratic channels and the nature of self-determined work changed in the complex. Have some firms had easier times with democratic reforms than others? Which firms have had greater successes with work democracy and has this translated into greater success for these firms? How has recession and globalization affected how Mondragón operates? Has there been increasing worker discontent during the existence of Mondragón, or has it decreased since the 1970s? And how democratic has Mondragón as whole been evaluated? In answer the above questions, along with a brief history of Mondragón’s evolution, I hope to understand in what ways work and democracy has changed.
In Moye (1993), four distinct periods in Mondragón history are noted: expansion (1956-59), programmed development (1970-84), adaptation to the market (1985-90), and sectoralization (1991-present). These strategic periods describe the various changes that Mondragón has gone through as a group of cooperative companies and also in terms of work.
The early period of Mondragón (expansion) involves the initial formation and design of the complex, an idea that is commonly attributed to a Catholic priest named Fr. José Maria Arizmendi. He laid out the first draft of the constitution and by-laws for the first cooperative. These documents have formed the basis for every cooperative since. It was at this time (and under the influence of Arizmendi) that low wage ratios and the direct deposit of member shares into accounts were established as norm to keep both a low management hierarchy and a large pool of capital for a cooperative. With the establishment of a credit union to help the funding of additional cooperatives, the Caja Laboral Popular, and a cooperative educational system to help in job training, Mondragón began creating institutions to fulfill important needs that neither the marketplace nor the state would provide to cooperative organizations.
The period of “programmed development” saw both a rapid increase in the number of Mondragón firms and also the onslaught of a Spanish recession. As noted above and will be noted below, this period also saw an increase in labor struggles within Mondragón, including a strike (including retributive firing afterward), in addition to external union organizing throughout Spain. These efforts increased employment in Spain and the Basque region, and also led to much higher wage levels. Experiments and strategic changes in on-the-job work organization will be dealt with in the section titled “Workplace reorganization”. Bradley and Gelb (1986) write and analyze four responses typical of cooperatives in regards to recession, including 1) efficient adjustments by the more flexible wage labor, 2) cautious investments, 3) attempts to diversify, and 4) moral authority of a tight community and better information flows between members.
Adaptation to the market and sectoralization have both occurred in tandem with increased global integration (which is discussed in the section “Internationalization and globalization”) and corporatization following a multinational model whose essence is captured by the formation of the Mondragón Cooperative Corporation (MCC). Taylor (1994) remarks that by the late 1980s, the economic challenges faced by Mondragón were answered by “a more narrowly economic conception of efficiency” (p. 483). The preoccupation with “standard” capitalist concerns like “efficiency” continued to grow through out the 1990s.
Before looking at how work was reorganized in the 1970s, I would like to preface the discussion by looking at how workers have not behaved as theories have commonly predicted those in cooperatives to behave. Moye (1993) details four theoretical problems that besiege most cooperatives on a firm and societal level. First, theory suggests that members will restrict employment to increase the per member income. Second, it is thought that cooperative firms with collective capital funds will not offer sufficient incentives for its members to reinvest in the firm itself – and thus be driven to invest outside their firms. Third, new cooperatives will not have proper “external market discipline”. And fourth, there is allegedly a danger of a sale by cooperative members, since this is said to be the best way members can gain the full value of their investments. Moye concludes that, on all these accounts, Mondragón has overcome such issues by dealing with the related problems both directly and indirectly.
Notes
[1] See Rothschild-Whitt (1979) for more on cooperative alternatives to the rational-bureaucratic model, that eschews a separate management structure and hierarchy.
References
Bradley, Keith and Alan Gelb. 1986. “Cooperative Labour Relations: Mondragon’s Response to Recession”. British Journal of Industrial Relations, 25 (1), March: 77-97.
Johnson, Ana Gutierrez and William Foote Whyte. 1977. “The Mondragon System of Worker Production Cooperatives”. Industrial and Labor Relations Review, 31 (1), October: 18-30.
Moye, A. Melissa. 1993. "Mondragon: Adapting Co-operative Structures to Meet the Demands of a Changing Environment". Economic and Industrial Democracy, 14: 251-276.
Rothschild-Whitt, Joyce. 1979. “The Collectivist Organization: An Alternative to Rational-Bureaucratic Models”. American Sociological Review, 44, August: 509-527.
Taylor, Peter Leigh. 1994. “The Rhetorical Construction of Efficiency: Restructuring and Industrial Democracy in Mondragón, Spain”. Sociological Forum, 9 (3): 459-489.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Against the Mere Study of Domination
Anarchist-sociologists argue that domination and inequality should not just be studied, but also actively opposed. Study is (maybe) a good first step, but then domination must be reacted and responded to. Large numbers of sociologists share this position, too (e.g. so-called “public sociologists”). The world-renowned academic linguist (and anarchist) Noam Chomsky (2005) discusses how such a critique must be followed by action:
Thus, according to Chomsky, the task is to first understand domination and inequality and then do away with their manifestations. Anarchist-sociology is interested in the study and transformation of society.
But, what is problematic with pure study, which is the usual endpoint for most sociologists? Studying inequality (and those who are dominated) turns the phenomenon (and the people affected by it) into objects of inquiry, thus abstracting and fetishizing the dominated and their needs. The distance implicit in research (with the exception, maybe, of militant ethnographic research methods) creates a crucial disjunction, and further dominates the dominated and privileges the already privileged.
Scholarship feeds the career of academics and policy-makers—thus keeping hierarchical systems like universities and governmental agencies humming along without challenge. Research is conducted in such a fashion that it serves the interests of academics’ careers. The placement of articles in academic journals or presentation at conferences does little to reach those most immediately impacted by hierarchy and domination. In fact, most research exaggerates that social distance, not only in the forum chosen, but also the esoteric and jargon-laded delivery. Even if such research could have liberatory potential for the dominated, it cannot reach them (especially in an unfiltered form) as it is sequestered away in the archives of the Ivory Tower (Martin 1998).
Dominated people need ammunition in their hands to fight back against oppressive power and hierarchy. Research on inequality and injustice can provide this firepower, but who will wield the weapons? To the extent that research is used at all, the traditional scholarly peer-review process within the world of academic journals has tended to only further enable the agency of politicians, policy-makers, and bureaucrats. According to Saul Alinsky (1972), the father of modern community organizing (and a once-aspiring sociologist), speaks to this troubling and lop-sided disconnect:
Who determines what weapons should be available, and how useful or liberatory they should be? Presently, the isolated researcher, operating within the confines of academia and only influenced by peers, makes these decisions. The resources, intellectual toolkits, and expertise are generally not made available to dominated communities; when studied, the dominated usually find themselves to be research objects poked and probed in ways they do not necessarily control, value, or benefit from.
So, who should use research findings to oppose inequality and how should that opposition be manifested? Should non-dominated individuals (e.g. straight, White middle-class men) be advocates or spokespersons for dominated groups? How about academics who are themselves members of disadvantaged groups? How exactly should any academics contribute and in what ways? When academics attempt to answer this question—as we are presently trying to do—we exercise not only our privileged positions, but also impose our own preferences, world-views, and biases.
These issues are important since they inform the question of who ought to act to eliminate inequality. Anarchists strongly claim that people must be active agents in their own liberation. Consequently, the liberal claim that the welfare state will help the poor is not just troublesome, but incorrect. When the state acts it is taking away the important, empowering experience that the poor could—and should—be having. The state is not necessarily acting how the poor would choose to. There is also ample evidence (e.g. Piven & Cloward 1993) suggesting that social welfare policies—even if well-intended (itself debatable)—serve to squelch revolutionary action and social disorder that could overturn hierarchical institutions. Once rebellious disruption diminishes, the welfare state retracts its “generous” assistance, thrusting the disadvantaged back into a position of austerity and want.
While assistance to the disadvantaged from well-read and researched state, technocratic, and intellectual figures can be perhaps helpful in the immediacy, it has negative long-term consequences. According to anarchist theory, saviors should not be trusted (or at least entrusted with one’s future). One needs to save oneself. Even “altruistic” saviors—such as charismatic social movement leaders—are problematic as they rob people of their autonomy, confidence, experiences, and right to rebel. Instead, anarchism argues for the immediate and direct action of the disadvantaged to oppose domination and inequality, action that does not rely on authority to create a more equal and just society. Authority figures who can hierarchically grant assistance create new forms of inequality; according to anarchism, one form of authority should not replace another (even if they represent a more benign and “kind” form).
References
Alinsky, Saul. 1972. “Empowering People, Not Elites”. Playboy. Available: http://www.progress.org/2003/alinsky5.htm
Chomsky, Noam 2005. Chomsky on Anarchism. Oakland, AK Press.
Martin, Brian. 1998. Tied Knowledge: Power in Higher Education. http://www.uow.edu.au/~bmartin/pubs/98tk/index.html. Date accessed: July 28, 2006.
Piven, Frances Fox and Richard A. Cloward. 1993. Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare, 2nd Edition. New York: Vintage.
I think it only makes sense to seek out and identify structures of authority, hierarchy, and domination in every aspect of life, and to challenge them; unless a justification for them can be given, they are illegitimate, and should be dismantled, to increase the scope of human freedom. That includes political power, ownership and management, relations among men and women, parents and children, our control over the fate of future generations (the basic moral imperative behind the environmental movement, in my view), and much else. Naturally this means a challenge to the huge institutions of coercion and control: the state, the unaccountable private tyrannies that control most of the domestic and international economy, and so on. But not only these. That is what I have always understood to be the essence of anarchism: the conviction that the burden of proof has to be placed on authority, and that it should be dismantled if that burden cannot be met. (p. 178, emphasis added)
Thus, according to Chomsky, the task is to first understand domination and inequality and then do away with their manifestations. Anarchist-sociology is interested in the study and transformation of society.
But, what is problematic with pure study, which is the usual endpoint for most sociologists? Studying inequality (and those who are dominated) turns the phenomenon (and the people affected by it) into objects of inquiry, thus abstracting and fetishizing the dominated and their needs. The distance implicit in research (with the exception, maybe, of militant ethnographic research methods) creates a crucial disjunction, and further dominates the dominated and privileges the already privileged.
Scholarship feeds the career of academics and policy-makers—thus keeping hierarchical systems like universities and governmental agencies humming along without challenge. Research is conducted in such a fashion that it serves the interests of academics’ careers. The placement of articles in academic journals or presentation at conferences does little to reach those most immediately impacted by hierarchy and domination. In fact, most research exaggerates that social distance, not only in the forum chosen, but also the esoteric and jargon-laded delivery. Even if such research could have liberatory potential for the dominated, it cannot reach them (especially in an unfiltered form) as it is sequestered away in the archives of the Ivory Tower (Martin 1998).
Dominated people need ammunition in their hands to fight back against oppressive power and hierarchy. Research on inequality and injustice can provide this firepower, but who will wield the weapons? To the extent that research is used at all, the traditional scholarly peer-review process within the world of academic journals has tended to only further enable the agency of politicians, policy-makers, and bureaucrats. According to Saul Alinsky (1972), the father of modern community organizing (and a once-aspiring sociologist), speaks to this troubling and lop-sided disconnect:
As an undergraduate, I took a lot of courses in sociology, and I was astounded by all the horse manure they were handing out about poverty and slums, playing down the suffering and deprivation, glossing over the misery and despair. I mean, Christ, I'd lived in a slum, I could see through all their complacent academic jargon to the realities. It was at that time that I developed a deep suspicion of academicians in general and sociologists in particular, with a few notable exceptions.… So I realized how far removed the self-styled social sciences are from the realities of everyday existence, which is particularly unfortunate today, because that tribe of head-counters has an inordinate influence on our so-called antipoverty program. Asking a sociologist to solve a problem is like prescribing an enema for diarrhea. (n.p.)
Who determines what weapons should be available, and how useful or liberatory they should be? Presently, the isolated researcher, operating within the confines of academia and only influenced by peers, makes these decisions. The resources, intellectual toolkits, and expertise are generally not made available to dominated communities; when studied, the dominated usually find themselves to be research objects poked and probed in ways they do not necessarily control, value, or benefit from.
So, who should use research findings to oppose inequality and how should that opposition be manifested? Should non-dominated individuals (e.g. straight, White middle-class men) be advocates or spokespersons for dominated groups? How about academics who are themselves members of disadvantaged groups? How exactly should any academics contribute and in what ways? When academics attempt to answer this question—as we are presently trying to do—we exercise not only our privileged positions, but also impose our own preferences, world-views, and biases.
These issues are important since they inform the question of who ought to act to eliminate inequality. Anarchists strongly claim that people must be active agents in their own liberation. Consequently, the liberal claim that the welfare state will help the poor is not just troublesome, but incorrect. When the state acts it is taking away the important, empowering experience that the poor could—and should—be having. The state is not necessarily acting how the poor would choose to. There is also ample evidence (e.g. Piven & Cloward 1993) suggesting that social welfare policies—even if well-intended (itself debatable)—serve to squelch revolutionary action and social disorder that could overturn hierarchical institutions. Once rebellious disruption diminishes, the welfare state retracts its “generous” assistance, thrusting the disadvantaged back into a position of austerity and want.
While assistance to the disadvantaged from well-read and researched state, technocratic, and intellectual figures can be perhaps helpful in the immediacy, it has negative long-term consequences. According to anarchist theory, saviors should not be trusted (or at least entrusted with one’s future). One needs to save oneself. Even “altruistic” saviors—such as charismatic social movement leaders—are problematic as they rob people of their autonomy, confidence, experiences, and right to rebel. Instead, anarchism argues for the immediate and direct action of the disadvantaged to oppose domination and inequality, action that does not rely on authority to create a more equal and just society. Authority figures who can hierarchically grant assistance create new forms of inequality; according to anarchism, one form of authority should not replace another (even if they represent a more benign and “kind” form).
References
Alinsky, Saul. 1972. “Empowering People, Not Elites”. Playboy. Available: http://www.progress.org/2003/alinsky5.htm
Chomsky, Noam 2005. Chomsky on Anarchism. Oakland, AK Press.
Martin, Brian. 1998. Tied Knowledge: Power in Higher Education. http://www.uow.edu.au/~bmartin/pubs/98tk/index.html. Date accessed: July 28, 2006.
Piven, Frances Fox and Richard A. Cloward. 1993. Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare, 2nd Edition. New York: Vintage.
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