Tucson DSA April General Meeting
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2023 Endorsement Alert: Maurice Brown for County Legislature
Syracuse DSA endorsed Maurice (Mo) Brown for County Legislature District 15 at our General Meeting on April 16th, 2023. Mo is a DSA member and former Steering Committee member.
Mo’s commitment to affordable housing, public transit, #PublicPower, and Leader Freedom will put people before profit and bring a democratic socialist voice to the Legislature.
To learn more about Mo and his vision for Onondoga County, visit his website.
Syracuse needs new blood in the County Legislature. People who won’t put Aquariums before Lead Freedom.
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Confronting the Threat of the Far Right
Monday, April 3rd at 8:00 PM ET/7:00 PM CT/6:00 PM MT/5:00 PM PT
Trump lost the 2020 presidential election, but the forces he represented and the ideas he furthered – the contemporary US right – have not gone away. These forces are continuing their efforts to push the US – both at in the electoral and the extra-parliamentary terrains – further towards their anti-democratic vision for the U.S. NPEC is sponsoring an upcoming zoom session, Confronting the Threat of the Far Right.
Session date: April 3, 2023 Session time: 5 PM PT/8 PM ET
Three sets of questions will be addressed in this session:
(1) Who is the right, both electorally and in the larger cultural front? What groups are the most active? What are the historical roots of the U.S. right? How are these groups organized?
(2) The “right” has several ideological strand and beliefs. What are these differences? Is it possible to exploit potential divisions between libertarians, white evangelical Christian nationalists, para-militarists, white supremacists, etc. and other segments the right?
(3) What should the broad left do to counter today’s right? How should we organize and with what goals? Where does DSA fit into in the effort to create a progressive counter-offensive to the right?
We will hear from and ask questions of Bill Fletcher, John Huntington, and Nancy McLean. These three presenters have engaged with the US far right as analysts, organizers, or both. The presentations and discussion will help DSA members in our day-to-day organizing and will provide important context for our political thinking and work through the 2023 convention and beyond. Join us on April 3.
Behind the Hibiscus Curtain with Trader Joe's Worker-Organizers
Last Wednesday, March 22, workers at two Trader Joe’s locations announced they have filed petitions with the National Labor Relations Board to join the independent union Trader Joe’s United. One, the College Avenue store in Oakland, California, would be the first unionized Trader Joe’s in the company’s home state. The other is located in our own backyard in the historic labor hotspot of the Lower East Side of Manhattan. We are tremendously excited for the over 300 workers who are facing this important step in their organizing and are sending all of our support and solidarity to Trader Joe’s workers in Oakland and at the Essex St store.
While Trader Joe’s is beloved by many shoppers across the country for its colorful atmosphere, wide array of special snacks, and of course its famously low prices, workers at the national retail chain know very well the difficulties that lie behind Trader Joe’s hibiscus curtain. Tonight on Revolutions per Minute we're live with Kelly and Chris, who have each worked and organized at a Trader Joe’s location in New York City. We’ll talk about the realities of life at TJ’s and why it's critical to support retail, grocery, and service industry workers in the ongoing struggle for fair conditions, living wages, and dignity at work. We also hear an update from Lee Ziesche on the likely passage of the Build Public Renewables Act.
*Please note that while we are in solidarity with Trader Joe's United, we are not members or representatives of the union.*
Justice For Jalen Call To Action
Houston DSA is calling upon all its members, allies, and people of conscience in the city of Houston to join in solidarity with the family of @Jalen J Randle and […]
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East High School Shooting Statement
Denver DSA is appalled by the shooting of two East High School staff members, the latest incident in a string of gun violence that has occurred in our city and our schools. We grieve together with our community and we stand in solidarity with the students and staff who continue to suffer trauma in a place where they deserve to feel safe. We empathize with the parents who must see their children go to school every day, not sure if they’ll come back alive. And we send our love and hopes for a quick recovery to the East staff members hospitalized in the shooting. This is unacceptable.
Our community is in pain. Parents and students are afraid, and they have reason to be. People are demanding that those in power do anything to prevent continued gun violence in our schools. It’s not surprising to hear members of our East High School community calling for the only resource that has ever truly been offered to them in moments of trauma – more police. And we’re watching real time how quickly and enthusiastically DPS and the City of Denver is offering up that resource, while similar calls for improved mental health care, violence interruption programs and community and family supports – root cause interventions that are proven to be effective in preventing violence and strengthening our communities – go unheeded and unheard.
Denver DSA joins the resounding calls of the community leaders, student activists and elected officials who wholeheartedly reject the reactionary decision by Superintendent Alex Marrero and the DPS board of education to place armed Denver Police officers in all comprehensive high schools. We stand with the DPS students, teachers and parents who have tirelessly fought for – and previously won – the right to attend school free from armed police. Especially during times of intense fear and tragedy, it is incumbent upon us to call out the dangerous and carceral reality of the police, and reject the idea that guns of any kind – including those carried by police – belong ANYWHERE in our schools.
Putting cops back in schools will do nothing to protect DPS students and staff. Exhaustive research — as well as our collective lived experience with the tragedies at Uvalde, Parkland and countless other schools — has shown that armed police officers do almost nothing to prevent or interrupt school violence. Rather, they perpetuate it, particularly on Black, Brown, Indigenous, disabled, queer, and trans young people, as well as students who experience poverty, abuse, and neglect. Police presence in schools increases rates of violence, arrest, suspension, expulsion and the harassment of students of color, and drastically lowering educational and mental health outcomes. And it makes students feel less safe, funneling thousands into the racist school-to-prison pipeline that locks countless students into brutal systems of incarceration.
Cops, metal detectors, lockdown drills, and schools that look like prisons are not the way forward. DPS and the Colorado Department of Education should be stocking schools with an army of counselors, psychologists and de-escalation experts to address the root causes of violence: poverty, poor mental health, and the systematic abandonment of youth in our underfunded public school system. The City of Denver should be offering robust violence intervention programs and more resources for parents and families. And the Democratic supermajority in the Colorado legislature should be acting to support all community members and enact statewide policies to make this violence impossible. We must work to prevent violence in the first place – not invest in failed “solutions” that will harm students and staff.
No guns in schools, no violence in schools and no cops in schools.
In solidarity,
Denver DSA
A Radical’s Industrial Experience
MY ROOTS WERE in Texas but war and the New Deal took the family from Dallas to Washington, D.C. where I grew up as a liberal Democrat. My first political experience was getting punched in the nose for wearing a Truman button.
Our family was middle of the white middle class. High school sports were segregated until my last two years of high school, 1955-57. In 1960, Berkeley attracted me as an inexpensive place to get a doctorate in philosophy and pursue a teaching career.
I joined the Independent Socialist Club (ISC, founded 1964) in Berkeley in February, 1966. The Free Speech Movement (FSM) in 1964 radicalized me and got me into unionism as a founder of the first teaching assistants union, Local 1570 of the AFT.
Jumping between the student radical, civil rights, union, counter-cultural and antiwar movements in 1965 scattered my activist energy; joining an ongoing radical organization allowed me to concentrate it. But joining an independent socialist sect just moved the problem of scattered energy to the next level.
The ISC and then the International Socialists (IS, founded 1969) were valuable because they were movement organizations.(1) Our animus was to carry the movements we were involved in further and bring them into conscious confrontation with the “system.” But it became clear from the system’s violent reaction to challenges from the Black Liberation, antiwar and student movements in 1968-70 that none of them alone or in combination had the social power to win.(2)
Our own tiny energies had to be concentrated and rooted in the only force on the planet that could confront capitalism and win: the working classes.
I decided in 1969 to throw in my lot with the proletariat. I knew it meant tossing the social safety net enjoyed by the professional middle classes and unavailable to the working class — credentials, social networks, relative immunity from state brutality.
I went to work as a wireman at Western Electric in Oakland. I lasted two weeks short of the six months needed to have “seniority” and union protection. In that time I produced a newsletter, organized my work crew in a slowdown to force our steward (also our foreman) to quit and be replaced by one of us, planned the democratization of our local, and found allies in the same building among long-distance operators working for Ma Bell.
The CWA business agent sussed me out and fingered me to management. Union and management reps laughed as they walked me out of the building, fired for not mentioning an assault on a police officer conviction in my application.
By this time the IS committed to industrializing the organization.(3) Whether or not individual members took jobs in key industries,(4) the group committed itself to supporting and leading the work of those who did.
Jack Weinberg, of FSM fame, had worked out a detailed plan for getting IS members into UAW plants in Detroit. My work as a wireman at Western Electric and then at ITT(5) in 1969-70 was persuasive that there was a mood in the working class for moving beyond inherited norms of action on the job.
IS cadre had developed some useful skills in the ’60s — writing, producing and distributing pamphlets; calling and chairing meetings with agendas and meaningful democratic participation; networking with radicals from other organizations; keeping information flowing among our collaborators; creating slogans and memes that crystalized dynamic ideas; analyzing balances of power so we could decide when to move and when to hold back.
We decided that we could take these skills, plus our commitment, to advanced sectors of the 1970s U.S. working class, and make them useful and welcome to our new co-workers. The advanced sectors in January 1971, when I moved with my family to Detroit, were steel, auto, Teamsters and other transport workers like railroad, communications, miners and government workers.
Some had militant early traditions, some were in motion at the moment, such as the Dodge Revolutionary Union Movement (DRUM) and Eldon Avenue Revolutionary Union Movement (ELRUM) Black Power uprisings in the auto plants.
Early 1970s Detroit
I worked in the blast furnace division of a steel mill while waiting for a UAW job to open in 1971. The coke oven was filthy work, but fun at times. I particularly liked driving the locomotive which caught molten coke as it spilled out of the ovens into my coal car to be quenched.
I flunked the Ford physical but made it into Chrysler’s Warren Stamping Plant as a spot welder on an easy job, feeding door headers (where the windows wind into) on the door assembly line. An Appalachian worker hired in my cohort described the environment as “organized insanity.” After a few weeks I understood the Maoist saying “a grain of rice is a bead of sweat is a drop of blood.”
Everyone who worked in plants like that, or these days at Amazon and UPS, understood intuitively that the system was designed to drain every calorie of energy it could from you before releasing you to recover overnight. The highfalutin’ Marxist word “exploitation” is experienced more simply as getting squeezed or wrung dry. So every worker’s goal once they knew the score was to beat the system somehow.
My challenge was to find ways to beat the system collectively rather than individually. Most workers seek the personal way out, since it is the most obvious in their experience. Dog eat dog.
Fortunately, I had some ideas learned from conversations with Stan Weir, a longtime southern California labor organizer in the Independent Socialist League, who taught me to listen first, not preach.
Stan Weir was the model for the character Joe in Harvey Swados’ novel, Standing Fast. Stan took organizing literally: he saw the workplace as an organic structure, where the first molecule was the informal work group. These are the people you are in constant contact with, just in order to do your job.
For example, a door assembly line had about eight people directly on the line: guys like me who welded the parts together; one who “married” the inside of the door to the outside panel; an inspector who checked each piece as it went by on the conveyor belt; and several guys who loaded the finished doors into racks for forklifts to pick up and drive to waiting railcars.
Our group intersected directly or tangentially with other work groups, joining one molecule to another. We depended on the forklift drivers to bring parts and carry away assemblies, on material handlers to make the parts handy, on pipe fitters to keep the sound deadener gunk and rust prevention sprays working, and on tool makers to adjust the spot welding machines.
Offline, but within sight, were metal finishers and torch welders who repaired doors damaged in the course of assembly. Each of these tangential workers had their own informal work groups.
Stan told me that my first job was to listen to and understand the people in my informal work group, then to identify the natural leader in that group. Later I would find the leaders in other work groups and try to link them. The company organized people and groups according to their functions and linked them by foremen. Stan’s model was to see them instead as autonomous collectives linked by self-interest through their natural spokespeople. (See https://www.tempestmag.org/2022/06/a-new-era-of-labor-revolt-1966/)
Gaming the System
Many of the spot welders and press operators in our plant spontaneously found a collective way to beat the system. They did It by working harder than necessary to get the job done, then taking turns to stop working (“go on break”). If there were four loaders filling racks with finished doors, three would work at a time while the fourth took a quarter hour break, then came back and relieved the next guy.
Similarly, entire lines worked extra hard to “make production” each hour and go on break prior to the contractually agreed five-minute hourly break. Every operation had a break-even point for the hour, say 250 doors, and a production quota, say 300 doors.
Meters on the line watched with eagle eye by the foremen kept count. The extra 50 doors produced were profit. Even though it was obvious that those extra doors, our surplus value, owed nothing to anyone except we who made them, they were whisked away for company’s use any way it wished. We had zero say and Marxist economics stood naked in front of our eyeballs.(6)
Our spontaneous collective sought only to game the system rather than beat it. Management obviously knew what we were doing but went along with it because it served their interest as well: meeting their quotas.
All that changed after Japanese engineers came to America in the mid-’70s to study our system as Chrysler engineers proudly showed them through the plant. In reality the visitors were doing detailed time and motion measurements, then went home determined to eliminate all of American management’s missed opportunities to collect every calorie of workers’ energy.
Easy jobs, taking turns working, etc. were eliminated in Japan, their econocars wiping out Big Three models in the market. Detroit in turn by 1984 adopted Japanese methods, nicknamed “management by stress” by Mike Parker in his books. Auto work as a tolerable way of life disappeared.
But even before that transition, to beat the system we would have to be in a position to turn production on and off like a faucet. Instead of working harder to get a break, we would have to work slower to exert collective power and prioritize more distant goals over immediate work relief. We looked to the British shop stewards’ movement as a model for using workers’ control, but nobody came anywhere near to replicating that movement.
Plant Dynamics
Race and ethnic dynamics determined everything in the plant. Your race was determined by how some other group looked at you, usually based simply on skin color. Ethnic dynamics were independent variables.
Thus, Black workers cohered sometimes as church and neighborhood members, sometimes as street people. So did whites, family and neighborhood largely determining promotion to better jobs. Then there were self-contained European clusters, most evidently the Polish workers, some of whom could barely speak English after 20 years at Chrysler.
There were few women in the plant, so women’s issues beyond tokenism did not became political in the union hall or on the shop floor until Jane Slaughter (from the IS) hired in and started explaining blue collar feminism through the pages of the local union newspaper, where she rapidly became assistant editor.
When I arrived, union politics was defined into hard voting and service blocs. The misnamed Rank and File Slate was based in skilled trades and conspicuously racist. Skilled trades were the minority, so they depended on white production workers to control the union hall — President, VP, etc.
All were Administration Caucus (formed by Walter Reuther in the late 1940s) loyalists. In the plant, stewards and committeemen posts were controlled by the Black opposition to the Rank and File Slate. The opposition had a minority of support among white production workers. Their leaders were also total Administration Caucus loyalists.
Our strategy was to unite Black and white production workers around shop-floor issues, at the expense of the UAW brass and their sycophants, who had long since abandoned class conflict on the shop floor in favor of the “gold-plated sweatshop.” Our newsletters and flyers came to the defense of oppressed groups — Blacks or women — who were being abused.
Prior to being awarded “seniority” at 18 months, thus prior to leaflets and openly organized agitation, I joined and eventually chaired the local union Fair Employment Practices Committee. I could investigate discrimination grievances like a steward, though stewards never did.
During this period, since I also showed up at union meetings and spoke, the Rank and File Slate tried to recruit me, sending me to Black Lake, the UAW leadership resort, for training. Training amounted to following top-down leadership from the Administration Caucus and liking it.
Eventually militants had to move beyond contract proposals, shop-floor reporting, and good ideas, to contend for power in order to implement our program. Program meant not a set of declarations, but the general idea that the union was the workers. We should act for ourselves to get what we needed, not depend on the company or union bureaucrats who wanted to “represent” us as a lawyer would, shutting us up because they knew better what was good for us.(7)
Although various workers were supporters and sometimes spokespeople for our caucuses and slates, the two figureheads that defined our politics in everyone’s eyes were the tool crib attendant George Brooks and myself — one Black, one white, both independent of the existing power structure and brazen in our stances.
We re-divided the plant, replacing white vs. Black with rank and file workers vs. the company and its union handmaidens. We had slates of candidates for several union elections and convention delegations. George was elected steward and I wasn’t. In 1977, I was finally elected vice president, defeating the Rank and File Slate candidate by a solid margin, 1100 to 900, with support from the traditional Black slate. That was the beginning of the end of the Rank and File Slate and race-defined union politics at this factory.
A year later the traditional Black-led production slate won the local president spot and the traditional white-led slate started working with him. Their hope was to return to the careerist, class-collaboration union life they knew before. Racism no longer served them, so they ditched it in public. Their common enemy was us — the movement for class-struggle unionism.
Bailout and Purge
David McCullough (left) at 1975 March on Washington.
The watershed decision for class struggle vs. class collaboration came in the Spring of 1979. Should the UAW and federal government bail out Chrysler by workers accepting concessions in return for government loans to the company?
We argued that if Chrysler could not make a profit it should be nationalized under workers’ control. Workers had the skills and interest to convert it to the manufacture of useful products.
I had chosen not to run again for VP and lost in my attempt to become chairman of the shop committee, the real center of power as opposed to the union hall, so George was isolated after winning the committeeman slot for his division.
We had lost some leverage and the newly united Black and white local union leadership were unanimous in preaching that the workers “must learn to eat crow” to save the “goose that laid the golden eggs,” Chrysler.
To make sure they won the battle for concessions, the union and company collaborated to fire three IS activists in Spring 1979 — first Jane Slaughter, then Mike Parker, then me.
Jane was fingered to management by a UAW committeeman as a leader of a wildcat strike previously at Cadillac Assembly. My guess is that the committeeman relied on the UAW research department for that information. She had a week or so to go to achieve 18 months seniority, which would have protected her.
For Mike, they had to eliminate his job title and lay him off. For years afterward, the Warren Stamping Plant had to operate without an electronics specialist of its own as they avoided calling him back.
In my case, UAW Pres. Doug Fraser wrote me that the union would not win my grievance (discharge for refusing a direct order) if taken to arbitration, therefore it was withdrawing my grievance. This despite a ruling by an administrative law judge in the Michigan Employment Security Commission that I was fired without cause, “no direct order having been given and none refused,” following a formal hearing with lawyers and witnesses on both sides.
None of us won our jobs back. Organized class-struggle unionism faded away at Local 869 as some of our colleagues were co-opted as paid full-time union operatives. You could argue that I failed to build a caucus that could outlive my role in it, a democratic group rooted in its given level of collective consciousness and commitment. I prioritized forcing change in the system over spreading responsibility among our cohort.
The group was not prepared for the long defensive battle ahead. The offensive battle to win the UAW for class struggle unionism ran for eight years from 1971; the defensive battle that followed our defeat has lasted 40 years.
Building Connections Across Lines
IS autoworkers collaborated across local union, company and industry lines. The epicenter of our inter-union auto work was the United National Caucus, whose citadels were the GM Tech Center where skilled workers designed cars, and Ford Local 600, the Dearborn facility that made its own steel and most everything else for cars and trucks that rolled off its assembly lines.
The UNC had organized in opposition to the Reuther Caucus in the 1960s and was well-entrenched when we arrived in the early ’70s. UNC organized picket lines and press conferences at both GM headquarters and UAW Solidarity House. We went to regional and national conferences held every year and to regional picket lines.
One evergreen issue the UNC promoted was reducing work hours under the slogans “30 Hours Work for 40 Hours Pay” and “30 and Out.” These addressed cyclical layoffs/excessive overtime, early retirement and full employment.
When the Industrial Union Division of the AFL-CIO called a March on Washington for jobs in 1975, 60,000 showed up. IS had its own banner and contingent, although our autoworkers, steelworkers and teamsters marched with contingents led by reform movements in their own industries — the UNC in my case, Concerned Truckers for a Democratic Union, the CWA United Action Caucus, the Coalition of Labor Union Women (CLUW) and others.
All these and others cohered as the ad hoc Rank and File Coalition and included unemployed people as well. The coalition had its own section of the march from the Capitol building to RFK Stadium a couple of miles away and the UNC marched as part of the coalition. The marchers were a militant group, with signs like “Fuck Ford” as well as “30 for 40.”
By far the most fun part of that day was when we at the rear of the march reached the stadium and found that it only seated 40,000 and the gates were locked. The 20,000 workers locked out quickly tore down the fences and gates and flooded the field below the podium set up for union officials and Hubert Humphrey to give speeches.
When Humphrey tried to speak, he was drowned out by boos and chants from the crowd, most of whom were probably Vietnam vets. He had long lost any credibility and took down the rest of the speakers with him. The crowd broke up to march back, thinking it had done a good day’s work by rejecting political-bureaucratic BS.
After the march, IS held a public meeting near the Capitol aimed at the Rank and File Coalition marchers. They had marched side by side from different industries, but we wanted to create a chance for them to talk together, swap literature and contact information, and think of coordinating their militancy. IS had a table to entice those who wanted to go even further.
There were no national Black organizations to ally with the way we did with CLUW. By the mid-’70s the Panther Party had lost leadership of Black liberation struggles, with nothing to replace it on the street. That militancy had moved into the factories, where Black production workers were already in the lead of rank and file movements like DRUM. There was no separation of “identity” and class politics; the Black working class in Detroit already saw its class struggle as the road to Black liberation in the streets.
IS-led union caucuses went beyond the plant level to ally with progressive single-issue movements. Example: The Free Gary Tyler campaign started in 1974 on behalf of a Black youth framed for murder by Destrehan, Louisiana cops, reached into the plants — my local called for his freedom — and into the community.
The IS youth group Red Tide participated as well. I got a Red Tide militant invited to our local union meeting by the local leadership to make the pitch for freeing Gary Tyler. The local voted in favor. But Gary spent 40 years in Angola prison, several on death row. (Gary Tyler eventually won release on a plea deal. He visited in Detroit in Fall 2022 and met with some former IS members.)
Seeds of the Future
Throughout the 1970s the IS organized conferences and network connections between rank and file caucuses, linking different industries. These planted the seeds of what later become Labor Notes. The soil they grew in, however, was not what we had planned for.
We understood that the wave of labor militancy in the ’70s was not only an extension of ’60s anti-establishment visions of a better life and resistance to everything that made life worse — war, racism, sexism. We also understood the specific economic dynamic that drove our bosses to try make their lives easier by making ours worse: the falling rate of profit.
Kim Moody, Anwar Shaikh and others analyzed the end of the postwar boom in America around 1970. During the previous 25 years, labor’s share of surplus value in highly unionized sectors had kept pace with an annual 3% rise in productivity.
Following the 1930s Great Depression and World War II, there was persistent growing demand for automobiles that kicked the can of overcapitalization down the road. By 1970 the market was saturated with commodities in the advanced Western countries and no progress was in sight toward creating new markets in the third world or the Communist countries. Nor were big wars in sight as ways to reduce overcapitalization by blowing it up.
So the corporations were on the attack. Wages and benefits hadn’t been on the chopping block in the early ’70s. Periodic wage increases were part of the corporate business model as the price of labor peace, most particularly peace on the shop floor.
We called this status quo the “gold plated sweatshop” — the union did not challenge the company with direct action on the shop floor but the company, unable to cut wages and benefits, was free to extract more surplus value in two main ways: speedup and lengthening the work day.
Speedup and its culture of treating people as cogs in the machine had already led to years of Black-led rebellions. By the time the IS arrived in Detroit, working conditions, including company racism, became the initial focus of our militancy. By the mid-’70s compulsory overtime coupled with layoffs was added to the mix and the two together triggered a sustained fightback. So we were able to make the first steps toward organizing that fightback that the UAW leaders refused to lead.
But the soil was shifting under our feet and we did not realize it. The automakers, like the American steel industry before it, moved to sustain their rate of profit by switching to a new business model: a preemptive class war on employees’ wages and benefits.(8)
They stripped the gold plate off the sweatshop. Chrysler led the charge in cahoots with the UAW leadership, betting the farm that UAW members would take money out of their pockets and give it back to the company before they would fight to win. They were right (not that UAW members were ever asked.)
The IS ranks, along with many others in the class struggle union movement of the ‘70s, were not widely enough embedded or influential with the millions of workers at risk to head off concessions. We tried and we lost.(9)
A few years into the 1980s, concessions had spread across industry. Comrade Steve Kindred, an early organizer of TDU, said at a meeting in the early ’80s “We’re going to get our teeth kicked in for a few years.” I thought he was exaggerating. On the contrary.
Lessons for Today
Looking back, I think IS made the correct choice given the alternatives available. Committed to socialism, we picked the workplace as the arena and class struggle unionism as the tool to fight for it. We had a step-by-step roadmap to get there.
When that strategy crashed as militancy ceded to the false defensiveness of concessions, one part of the IS split off to focus on propaganda and concentration in universities and some white collar sectors, where the International Socialist Organization worked with some success for decades before dissolving.
Our own strategy became moot as the U.S. economy deindustrialized and the central industrial unions like auto and steel lost their strategic power. That vehicle to a labor party and anti-capitalist socialist combat for power choked and stalled and moved over to the slow lane.
One thing stayed the same: organizing on the job, from below. The International Socialists shifted their emphasis to linking rank and file organizers across the board. Labor Notes (launched in 1979) became the institutional form this took. It provided both theory and practice for the 40-year prolonged defensive movement, and at the same time cultivated organizational techniques for going on the offensive.
DSA labor committees today are trying to decide where to invest their energies. I think it makes more sense to organize among the people you spend a third of your working days with, rather than making cold calls door to door or hanging around the fringes of other people’s organizing efforts.
It makes more sense to institutionalize whatever gains we make by direct action than to pin our hopes on the General Strike. And finally, history and our own experiences have shown conclusively that it is not enough just to win electoral majorities in either government or unions.
The Marxist idea that the working class learns the ability to govern in the course of organizing itself to win power still applies. We can’t just take over the capitalist machine.
Today’s young workers and young socialists are discovering for themselves that the rank and file strategy is the way to go and that they don’t have to wait for somebody else — in particular the traditional unions laden with bureaucracy or, like the SEIU, organizing from the top down.
The range of allies we are looking at today has broadened to reach unorganized workers, dispersed workers, unemployed and home employed workers, pink collar workers, service workers, and the public at large, as teachers’ unions have discovered.
The Quiet Quitting movement, the critique developed in the book Bullshit Jobs and the like, have nurtured a shared realm of consciousness for manual and office and home workers: the job is not what’s most important in our lives. Giving your best to the job is no longer a path to a good life at home.
The requisites of a decent life have to be applied on the job as well as off the job — such as air-conditioned trucks for UPS workers in an overheated world, or regular sleep patterns for pilots and flight attendants. Workers’ demands, union demands and public demand, converge toward campaigns for human rights.
Health is a human right. So is life — including Medicare for All, guaranteed income, socialized child care, and canceling profit to save the environment.
-David McCullough, Atlanta DSA
Notes
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“Independent” was the key word for me in joining the socialist world. The ISC owed nothing to the safe havens many American 60s radicals posed as real world supports — Cuba, Maoism, the CPs and SPs, third-world liberation. We had to make our revolution ourselves, depending on nothing but each other.
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DSA faces the same problem today. It wants to be for “all good things” like a political party but can’t commit to an area where it could be decisive.
back to text - See Kim Moody for an overall picture of industrialization. https://www.tempestmag.org/2022/07/origins-of-the-rank-and-file-strategy/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=origins-of-the-rank-and-file-strategyback to text
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Key in their ability to shut down the economy of the day.
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At ITT we carefully organized a sitdown strike and won in two hours.
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Sometimes called “wage slavery.” I like Stephanie Coontz’ pithy comment on slavery: “Slave owners responded to the global market by combining the ruthlessly impersonal profit calculations of mass production with the cruel intimidation required to extract maximum effort on exhausting tasks while forestalling resistance by enslaved people, who vastly out outnumbered overseers and owners.” Stephanie Coontz, “American History is a Parade of Horrors — and Heroes,” Los Angeles Times Op-ed, August 14, 2022. Impersonal profit, maximum effort, thwarting resistance — life in auto factories.
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In 1975 my literature in a run for local president included “30 for 40 to end unemployment; smashing racism at work, in the union and community; no support to Democrats, Republicans, Wallaceites, or Kennedy, but a labor party instead; fighting the boss at the point of production; nationalizing Chrysler if it can’t afford full employment….Equally important though were issues like the women’s restrooms and union finances….” p. 3, orkers’ Power, June 5-18, 1975.
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The corresponding shift in capital strategy echoed steel captains’ failure to invest in plant in the ’60s and early ’70s to insure long run competitiveness. When questioned about this in Iron Age magazine in 1971, an industry boss famously replied “In the long run we’ll all be dead.” The big three automakers never invested to produce small, efficient cars. They have been saved from the dustbin only by SUVs and trucks.
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This summary is analyzed in great detail in the closing chapters of the Rebel Rank and File: Labor Militancy and Revolt from Below During the Long 1970s, edited by Brenner, Brenner and Winslow. Verso, 2010.
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January-February 2023, ATC 222
This article was originally published on Against the Current Feb. 2023
If you have questions about any of this, especially its relevance for today, please write me at dm10639@gmail.com.
The post A Radical’s Industrial Experience appeared first on Red Clay Comrade.
Can we talk about housing now?
Note: posts by individual CVDSA members do not necessarily reflect the views of the broader membership or of its leadership and should not be regarded as official statements by the chapter.
We lost our City Council race.
CVDSA and UVM YDSA members will continue to assess where we went wrong internally. But our defeat on the Progressive Party’s ballot line also happened to take place as part of a “wave election” for the Burlington Democrats, who, if we include the Democrat-endorsed independent Mark Barlow in the North District, won four out of the five of seats up for grabs on our municipal legislature. To make matters worse, both of the citizen-initiated charter change proposals – opposed by our Democratic mayor, supported by the Progs – flopped at the ballot box.
In Ward 8 – where Jake Schumann, the Progressive nominee for the overlapping East District, earned slightly more votes than his competitor Tim Doherty, though Doherty would ultimately prevail thanks to an advantage in Ward 1 – our failure appears to belong to us. We feel bad not only for failing to put Rhone Allison in office but also for opening the door to what looks, possibly, to become a long and extremely dispiriting journey of political advancement for the Democratic victor: Burlington’s blandest 22-year-old careerist, already an entrenched establishmentarian, who, while working for the local branch of the Chamber of Commerce, campaigned without an articulated policy platform of any sort, promising little beyond the assurance that, unlike her Progressive predecessor in Ward 8, who had resigned after seven months of chronic absenteeism, she would actually attend the City Council meetings. And who could doubt it?
Sometimes it’s a little unclear why people who have no political goals or interests (of their own, that is) seek to spend their lives as centrist placeholders in our city halls and statehouses. There are plenty of other ways to feel important and get your name in the paper. Rhone’s campaign, by contrast, took every opportunity to emphasize its ideological intensity: if nothing else, it brimmed with notions.
The biggest notion was socialism. According to Rhone’s literature, they were a Democratic Socialist, not a Progressive, irrespective of their ballot line. Chased by campus police for a month and half, our relentless YDSA volunteers knocked every door in Ward 8’s dormitories on multiple occasions to tell their classmates about the socialist candidate for City Council and their endorsements from the Vermont State Labor Council and Teamsters Local 597.
What did the campaign’s socialism consist of?
It aimed to center workers as much as possible, but pragmatically, given the role of the City Councilor, the bulk of the platform sought to address Burlington’s increasingly obvious housing shortage and its devastating effects on tenants.
We borrowed from models across the country for our proposals to rejuvenate the local public housing authority, to empower tenant unions, and to convert rental buildings into housing cooperatives. In a less clearly socialist fashion, we also wanted an aggressive liberalization of Burlington’s zoning laws, with reforms including, but not limited to, permitting fourplexes in all low-density residential districts and high-rises near UVM; expanding the South End Innovation District plan to reuse the old industrial parcels near Pine Street; and approving the Trinity Campus rezoning.
Of all the housing planks, this last component – or some version of it – seemed, thanks to a measure of preexisting pressure, to stand the best chance of becoming a reality in the near term. A slightly more dramatic addendum to our land-use agenda asked for a rezoning of the Burlington Country Club, a massive waste of valuable urban land that currently pays taxes according to the property’s value as protected “recreation/greenspace” – that is to say, very little. Redesignating its 150 acres as a high- or even medium-density district would generate an unsustainable tax burden for the sprawling, low-revenue business, forcing a sale and a change of use: housing, for instance. We imagined an engaging, left-populist crusade to take on the country club elites and repurpose their exclusionary oasis toward a useful social end.
Students, including an abundance of UVM freshmen and sophomores, constitute the vast majority of Ward 8’s electorate, and Rhone’s campaign operated according to the theory that contact mattered most. Presumably few of these newcomers, living on campus, had developed detailed views on local municipal problems or attachments to specific policy prescriptions to address them, but we believed that most of them had a generally left-wing outlook and would, with enough direct and persuasive encouragement to participate in the election, overwhelm the small minority of grownups in the ward, to our benefit. For one reason or another, it didn’t happen.
Elsewhere in Burlington, however, a specific issue did seem to occupy voters’ minds. Unfortunately, it wasn’t housing. In the year 2023, our election was still about the police.
We all know the story. Emboldened by a summer of vibrant demonstrations in the wake of George Floyd’s murder in Minneapolis, the Prog-led Burlington City Council passed a resolution in 2020 to reduce the size of the police department by 30 percent through attrition. They didn’t know how fast the activism would fade, or how soon the backlash would set in.
On the national level, it didn’t take all that much cleverness for reactionaries to turn the radical-liberal dictum that our politics should emerge from a process of “centering the voices of marginalized communities” to their own purposes: easily enough, journalists in the corporate media found impoverished Black and brown families who would speak eagerly of the police as a crucial source of protection from violence and danger that pervaded neighborhoods wholly unfamiliar to the coddled, quixotic, white academics and NGO leaders who favored abolition. Subsequent sensationalized upticks in certain categories of crime in certain cities (including Burlington) solidified the consensus that progressives (and, in Burlington, Progressives) had gone much too far.
When will the Progs stop paying for this decision, which they’ve already reversed? New York Times stories like “The Bike Thieves of Burlington, Vermont” don’t help, but one possible answer is the Progs will continue to pay until the moment they make it clear that their politics are, in fact, about something other than policing.
In 2023, with a controversial ballot question on the subject of police accountability dominating most of the news coverage of Burlington’s city election, that wasn’t easy to do. Question 7, also known as Community Control of Police, aimed to create a civilian review board with binding powers to investigate, suspend, and fire officers. Even if it had passed locally, it would have faced slim odds in the statehouse, with a near-certain veto ahead from our Republican governor, but a well-funded “no” campaign drew rank-and-file conservatives to the polls, and 63.2% of voters rejected the item in Burlington. Presumably, they didn’t leave the rest of their ballots blank.
CVDSA has always rooted for the Progs. But if only as a thought experiment, we might ask ourselves why. For many of us, our allegiance owes, above all else, to a well-founded contempt for the Democrats and an appreciation that, in Vermont at least, a viable alternative structure exists to provide a route to elected office for left-wing candidates.
Of course, we hated to see the Progressive Party lose its plurality on the City Council. But have the Progs demonstrated what the import of that loss will be for constituents in the now Democratic East District and Ward 8? For instance, will it make their rent go up or down?
Talking about housing didn’t win Rhone the election on March 7, but moving forward, it remains the issue with the strongest chance of displacing “public safety” as a primary subject of concern and debate in our local elections. Everyone who cares about Burlington should aim to find new ways to center housing as a political topic, not only because it represents a potentially viable electoral strategy in the future but also because – unlike Burlington’s out-of-control crime wave – it is real. But Progs who want to play a productive role here will have to demonstrate how their positions on housing actually differ from the Democrats’.
With Burlington now taking tentative steps toward adding new housing in the South End, we should remember that it could have done so years ago. In 2015, the Progs unanimously signed on to a resolution by Councilor Joan Shannon, a Democrat, to prevent a residential rezoning along Pine Street. Local artists had protested out of fear that their studios would soon become apartments, since apartments command higher rents.
The brand of cultural leftism that ranks rich people’s desire for subsidized spaces in which to engage in personal self-expression by making quirky paintings and sculptures ahead of working-class people’s need for shelter isn’t rare in the United States. But future Progs on the City Council may want to ask themselves if this should be their brand of leftism.
More recently, the Progs have prioritized punishing UVM (which, owing to its size, functions as Burlington’s not-for-profit, state-subsidized stand-in for the careless, impersonal greed of Corporate America) for raising its admissions totals over hastening the construction of new, badly needed student housing on the Trinity Campus.
The Progs’ political fixations – trying to protect homeowners from property tax increases, for instance – point to the influence of one of the party’s bases in Burlington: aging hippies who bought houses back when they were cheap, with the aim of defending a small, friendly, oddball city from, among other things, overdevelopment. Permitting the construction of big apartment buildings would – in addition to increasing the housing supply – allow for the development of younger, non-student constituencies, whom we could work to organize around newer, less foggy approaches to ecosocialism and housing justice. But getting there would require the Progs to suffer through some uncomfortable moments during public comment periods at City Hall.
CVDSA members vote for the Progs, but we can’t by ourselves control where the party stands on housing. We can try to make a difference. We can control where CVDSA stands.
Coincidentally, a couple weeks after Rhone’s loss, Denver DSA stirred a tempest online when it announced that its membership had voted to oppose the construction of a mixed-use neighborhood – with market-rate and income-restricted housing, a grocery store, and a public park – on the site of the abandoned Park Hill Golf Course, just below an A Line commuter rail stop. Two of the chapter’s elected officials had already said they would vote against Referred Measure 2O, the local ballot question that would enable redevelopment if approved.
The parallels to our own proposal were unmistakable. Our comrades in Colorado had taken a different view.
The understanding that DSA’s housing organizing will focus principally on building tenant power, advocating for rent control and Section 9 repairs, and advancing various forms of social ownership is uncontroversial; the open question is whether or not DSA should actively oppose the private development that other organizations – YIMBY Denver, for instance – regard as the sole solution to our cities’ housing crises. DSA chapters across the country have defended their partnerships with local anti-gentrification groups against charges of “Left NIMBYism,” but critics can point to stranger bedfellows: specifically, the unproductive minor nobility of conservative homeowners and mom-and-pop landlords who, in a historical materialist analysis, would seem to represent a more regressive political force than the corporate developers whose intentions to expand their real estate holdings threaten the former groups’ ability to build personal wealth strictly by contriving conditions of scarcity.
In the case of the Park Hill Golf Course, Denver DSA could hardly make a convincing case that it is on the verge of realizing a socialist vision for its 155 open acres, if only voters next month reject the plan put forth by Westside Development Partners. Denver doesn’t have a public developer to turn to on the city or state level, let alone one with enough capital to take on a project this big. Last year, socialists in Rhode Island achieved a major victory when their legislature authorized a $10 million pilot program to build new mixed-income housing under state ownership, but even if housing organizers in Colorado managed to win similar legislation, it would not create anything close to enough public-sector capacity.
To many observers, the usual complaint that the development will displace Black and brown residents fell flat this time: it is, after all, a golf course – an enormous empty space – not an embattled gentrifying community. Westside’s plan could be better, surely, but it underwent what has become, by now, a more or less standard process by which developers seek to win public approval before a zoning change, with the signing of a community benefits agreement that promised 25% affordable housing; recreational, cultural, and commercial facilities; and token financial giveaways to adjacent low-income residents and nonprofits.
Activists might have pushed the Denver City Council harder to demand a little more before agreeing to rezone the golf course on Westside’s behalf, but that vote has already taken place. If the general public now refuses at the ballot box to remove the conservation easement that bars all construction on the site, there is no clear path to building housing of any kind in the near future, at any level of affordability.
As it is, Westside’s mixed-use, transit-oriented plan represents a clear upgrade in relation to the surrounding development pattern, with its long, uninterrupted rows of overpriced ranches. The proposal is, in a basic sense, urban.
Most socialists would like to be urbanists; they just can’t stomach becoming market urbanists. Virtually all of us ardently support public transit, pedestrian infrastructure, and bike lanes. Most of us identify suburban development as an ecological catastrophe that will contribute more and more carbon emissions until we create opportunities for people to live closer together instead. Many of us, moreover, share a conception of great cities as uniquely supportive and enriching social fabrics that, by providing an abundance of free, easy-to-access amenities, from parks to cultural programming, as well as constant opportunities for human interconnection, use the wealth of the public sphere to mitigate some of the inequalities of class society in deeply meaningful and empowering ways.
Few American metropolises have a built environment capable of embodying this ideal. Burlington has much to recommend it, but it falls a little short of the minimum density threshold for total walkability, which, especially given its inadequate bus service, is another way of saying that it cuts off people who don’t own cars from full, democratic participation in its civic life. Like most cities, it would be better if it had more people living in it.
But how do we get them there, except by giving capitalists permission to build expensive new homes? This is where DSA begins to balk. The left-wing caricature of private development, which pictures every new building as a stack of glossy condos that will, after their purchase by billionaire foreign investors, sit forever vacant, is an exaggeration; in fact, the shoddy, faux-luxury “gentrification buildings” in places like New York City’s Bushwick, for instance, house many of the debt-saddled, downwardly mobile college grads who turned North Brooklyn into one of DSA’s strongest bases. But it’s true, of course, that market-rate construction will not serve those who struggle most to find shelter. So why would we want more of it?
Socialists, understandably, view the question of upzoning through the lens of “What is the socialist thing to do here?” Naturally, the building trades unions – long derided on the Left, anyway, for their supposedly immovable conservativism – always want to build, but it doesn’t feel socialist to pave the way for private profit. That’s because, in the most straightforward sense, it isn’t socialist.
As we all know, our socialism does not yet exist, except as an embryonic force. But where can it begin to achieve its expression? Sometimes we look in the wrong places.
For example, we may imagine disputes between big developers and the “communities” that oppose them as secondhand iterations of the capital-labor conflict, playing out in a modified arena but with the same underlying dynamics. This can allow us to claim victories that, on the 21st-century shop floor, come all too rarely. America’s unions may be weak, but its NIMBYs are reasonably strong, and by positioning ourselves as ideologically distinct junior partners in anti-development coalitions dominated by the latter, we can take part in their wins. The recognition – open or suppressed – that the primary political forces behind these “victories” would mount even more combative campaigns against the development of housing for low-income renters, if the possibility of it ever arose, may only slightly dampen the celebratory mood when a market-rate project fails.
When anticapitalists seek power within the capitalist state, they face the awkward reality that, alongside pushing for alternative ways of organizing our society, they must also think seriously – if they want to protect their electoral futures as well as the here-and-now material interests of their constituents – about how to manage a profit-driven mode of production in order to yield the least bad possible outcomes. Nobody benefits when we collapse specific, correctable market failures into the broader inadequacy of capitalism as an economic system. Until we win socialism, we will never have a society where all of us can thrive, but the question of exactly how few of us will thrive in the meantime should still concern us, and not only in areas where potential gains for working people would derive from class struggle in a traditional sense.
The uninspiring nature of YIMBY “success stories” – where a flurry of new construction in one city or another proved to reduce the size of rent increases in subsequent years, relative to a comparable city, without eliminating them altogether, let alone solving homelessness – offers a temptation to dismiss their significance. Rezonings tend to increase the housing supply by less than their advocates promise, and the effects of increased supply play a smaller role than advocates purport in increasing affordability. But the effects remain real, both for existing tenants and those hoping to move into an area. Few renters would turn down a chance to knock a few bucks off the monthly check to their landlord, and we shouldn’t allow our distaste for YIMBYs themselves, in their stereotypical libertarian form, to convince us, through an inevitably convoluted logic, that superficially positive zoning reforms would contravene our deeper revolutionary aims.
In many political disputes – like Denver’s, for instance – there is no structurally socialist entity with which we, as socialists, can align ourselves. Instead, we must choose sides among various partially or fully malignant forces within capitalist society. But that doesn’t have to mean losing sight of our long-term vision. As we weigh in on conflicts that pit land-use patterns that, even under capitalism, have the capacity to promote a measure of social solidarity against the sprawling, car-dependent infrastructure that undergirds American individualism, we should do so, naturally, with the goal of socialism in mind.
All sorts of issues come before DSA’s elected officials, as they do any other. They may find themselves in a position to craft new industrial regulations to protect consumer safety or the planet, to the detriment of corporate profits; less comfortably, they may also – if the ideology of the organization doesn’t constrain them – notice the necessity of shrinking misguided regulatory apparatuses in order to stimulate the production of essential goods: unavoidably a boon for capitalist firms, which will dedicate a portion of their proceeds to political donations for right-wing candidates and causes, as the real estate lobby reliably demonstrates.
It’s not the only one. In New York, private solar and wind energy companies helped fend off NYC-DSA’s attempt to pass the Build Public Renewables Act last year. We should never mistake investors in commercial clean power for friends, but neither can we, in this parallel case, afford to lend a hand to NIMBY activists or municipal officials in their aim to develop new land-use hurdles that would make it more difficult for these firms to site solar and wind farms on scenic hillsides, even if doing so would serve to drain some of the companies’ political influence by depriving them of revenue. We can’t meet our goals for clean electricity without their contributions. As we fight for a better approach, we cannot pretend that will not, for the foreseeable future, continue to rely, at least in part, on on our enemies.
Housing can be more complicated. How, for instance, should we sort the competing claims for space between residential and industrial uses under our cities’ zoning regimes? When, if ever, does it make sense to raze functional middle-density neighborhoods in order to construct high-rises?
But in housing-starved cities, multifamily construction on obviously underutilized parcels – on parking lots, golf courses, and other sites of minoritarian dominance, including single-family neighborhoods – is as close to an unalloyed good as we’re going to get. In the lead-up, we can negotiate with developers, when possible, over rates of affordability and public amenities, but it is a mistake for frustrated socialists to prioritize the cathartic act of “standing up to big real estate” over the production of housing. Zoning offers a rare veto power over capital, which elsewhere does more or less whatever it wants whenever it wants, and the desire to wield this power punitively, understandably, is strong. But all zoning can do is say yes or say no to someone else’s proposal; it can’t create anything.
Such zoning-based showdowns with developers become less exciting when we realize how little we can actually win. At times, the socialist position on striking real estate deals can embody a strange paradox: we loudly insist that private development can never truly serve the needs of the people, yet simultaneously we seem to believe that, if only we hold fast to an impossibly ambitious list of demands during each rezoning, we can turn a proposed condo tower into something like public housing.
In reality, when a city councilor boasts that they forced a developer in their district to exceed, by a significant margin, the maximum level of affordability that it said it could meet on a project without compromising the project’s viability as a profit-making endeavor, what they usually mean – as in the case of Innovation QNS in Queens – is that the mayor quietly agreed to kick in an extra subsidy from the city’s coffers in order to boost the number of income-restricted units, allowing the councilor to save face among gentrification-sensitive voters without tanking the project. This additional concession doesn’t come from capital; it comes from the public, which props up the developer with cash that could, alternatively, have funded a democratically managed community land trust or a limited-equity co-op.
Under capitalism, capital rarely ever really loses. At worst, it walks away and finds a more agreeable home elsewhere.
This, of course, is one reason why it’s so vital to fight for the establishment of state- and city-owned real estate development corporations. But DSA’s orientation toward housing in general would improve immeasurably with the realization – possibly a tough pill to swallow for some of our tenant organizers – that we will not win socialism through an obstructive struggle against real estate capital specifically. To tell ourselves otherwise is to lose a piece of our Marxism: specifically, the piece through which we can regard capitalist development as a progressive force, delivering the hard infrastructure that our socialist revolution – which we will win as workers (for instance, in the “conservative” building trades), not as consumers of housing – will inherit.
This is not a call to reduce DSA’s emphasis on housing in municipal politics. It is the opposite: Burlington may not yet have caught up, but in most places, housing already sits at the center of the debates about our cities, and we must engage with it through a wider set of political lenses, including some that feel more wonky than radical. Electorally, DSA has no choice but to build itself up from the local level, and to do that, we need a municipal agenda that will measurably improve America’s cities in short order. We can’t afford to be right on the big questions and wrong on the small ones.
Our housing organizing will continue to focus on tenants, but our policy positions should reflect a common-sense climate-conscious view on land use and a normal recognition of the need to increase the housing supply, unclouded by a fetishistic hatred of “empty luxury condos.”
After all, it’s the capitalist’s role, not ours, to look at an apartment building and see only a spreadsheet of projected profits. We can notice the plumbing, the electrical work, the sturdy walls and roof, and know that, one day, it will be social housing – like all the other housing will be – because the private developer that built it, like every other capitalist, will no longer exist.
This will happen in Burlington. Until then, we want to make it as nice a town as it can be, with plenty of apartments to rent. Some of the new units, we hope, will be public housing, and we’ll continue to work on making that happen. But at first, most of them probably will be private.
Off the tracks, Ohio and the environment
A toxic train derailment turned the focus of the world to the tiny town of East Palestine, Ohio. Tonight we'll talk to Timothea Deeter, an East Palestine resident and Mahoning Valley DSA member about how mutual aid can transcend political boundaries and what her community needs moving forward. We'll also zoom out and look at the larger environmental degradation of Ohio and neighboring states. We're joined live tonight by Andrew Woomer, the advocacy Coordinator for the Southwestern Pennsylvania office of the Clean Air Council. Andrew is from Pittsburgh and was in East Palestine earlier today dropping off air purifiers. We'll talk to him about that and his work to monitor and organize around petrochemical and oil and gas issues across Pennsylvania. We'll also hear from documentary filmmaker David Ruck about his film The Erie Situation on toxic algae blooms in Lake Erie.
Follow Mahoning Valley DSA on Twitter and Facebook
Watch the trailer for "The Erie Situation" and follow filmmaker David Ruck on Twitter
Follow Clean Air Council on Twitter and you can donate to their mutual aid efforts in East Palestine here
