Friday Tunes: The Way It Is

This week’s installment of labour issues in popular culture features The Way It Is by Bruce Hornsby. Hornsby identifies many of the themes covered in Linda Tirado’s book Hand to Mouth that I wrote about on Tuesday. He tackles poverty and the demonizing of the poor (“The man in the silk suit hurries by/As he catches the poor old ladies' eyes/Just for fun he says ‘Get a job’”).

He also comments on racism (“They say hey little boy you can't go/Where the others go/'Cause you don't look like they do”). Yet this song ends on a more upbeat note, identifying the (imperfect) changes that flowed from the US civil rights movement and questions whether indeed “That's just the way it is/Some things will never change”.



Standing in line marking time
Waiting for the welfare dime
'Cause they can't buy a job
The man in the silk suit hurries by
As he catches the poor old ladies' eyes
Just for fun he says "Get a job"

That's just the way it is
Some things will never change
That's just the way it is
But don't you believe them

They say hey little boy you can't go
Where the others go
'Cause you don't look like they do
Said hey old man how can you stand
To think that way
Did you really think about it
Before you made the rules
He said, Son

That's just the way it is
Some things will never change
That's just the way it is
But don't you believe them

Well they passed a law in '64
To give those who ain't got a little more
But it only goes so far
There's a the law that don't change another's mind
When all it sees at the hiring time
Is the line on the color bar

That's just the way it is
Some things will never change
That's just the way it is
But don't you believe them

-- Bob Barnetson

Poverty, sex and the working poor

Over the holidays, I had a chance to read Hand to Mouth: Living in Bootstrap America. Author Linda Tirado is one of the working poor—holding multiple jobs at or just above minimum wage with few or no benefits and zero job security—and provides pretty blunt insight into a life without hope as well as the logic of grinding poverty.

She explains the oft-cited lack of work ethic among low-wage workers (would you go all out if you worked two jobs for minimum wage for jerks and could be fired at will?) and the constant state of emergency that poverty brings. She debunks most advice for pulling oneself out of poverty (assuming she pinched every penny and absolutely nothing went wrong, she estimates she could save a whole $260 a year).

Particularly stinging is her analysis of how the working poor are despised for their circumstances. For example, the working poor are often criticized for having multiple children, but are denied adequate income to purchase birth control and limited (and deteriorating) access to publically funded birth control. Yet the same lack of funds also means that sex is one of the few forms of recreation the working poor can afford.

Entertainment costs. Movies, bowling, whatever you can think of that nice folks do on dates that don’t involve sex—that’s all a luxury. When you have nothing in your wallet and nothing else to do, sex is really good for killing time. I’ve spent more than one afternoon in bed because it was the only entertaining option I had. Give the choice between a) sex minus boredom, and b) celibacy plus boredom, I think we all know which one is preferable.

This gives rise to judgments about the morals of the working poor:

That does mean we’re indiscriminant. We do not simply drop trou and rut like animals upon spotting another human that we might be able to fuck. We have sex for the same reasons rich people do—we are in love, we like someone’s smile, someone made us laugh. Sometime’s they’re cute and there’s a spark.

Overall, a very eye-opening book that identifies classist assumptions and the systemic issues that create and sustain poverty. Particularly poignant are her thoughts about the inter-generational nature of poverty and how poor people are judged for things they essentially can’t control:

I’m not preparing our kids for a gentle world full of interesting and stimulating experiences. I’m getting them ready to keep their damn mouths shut while some idiot tells them what to do. I’m preparing them to keep a sense of self when they can’t define themselves by their work because the likeliest scenario is that (unlike doctors and lawyers) they will not want to. I’m getting them ready to scrap and hustle and pursue happiness despite the struggle. 

I think a lot of what people see as bad parenting is simply that our kids have different expectations, It would make any sense to take wealthy kids and prepare their brains for drudge work. And it doesn’t make much sense to take poor kids and prepare them to seek fulfillment from work. That’s not how it goes for us. If the find it, that’s fantastic. But odds are. They will work just as many zombie jobs as they will good ones.

Tirado’s writing is (ahem) a bit “earthy” and oscillates between hilariously insight and extremely angry (this isn’t an easy book to read). But it is worthwhile.

-- Bob Barnetson

Friday Tunes: Bread and Roses

This week’s installment of labour themes in popular culture is the song Bread and Roses. The song has it origins in the early part of the 20th century and is most often associated with the 1912 textile strike in Lawrence, Massachusetts. This strike was largely led by women and the lyrics speak to the need for both fair wages and dignified conditions of work and life.

Our days shall not be sweated from birth until life closes,
Hearts starve as well as bodies, give us bread, but give us roses

The video below is from the movie Pride, which documents the support of British LBGT activists of coal miners during the 1984 strike. Pride is one of two movies about the coal strike the Alberta Labour History Institute is screening (for free!) on February 5 (7 pm show time) at the Garneau Theatre.



As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses
For the people hear us singing, bread and roses, bread and roses.

As we come marching, marching, we battle too, for men,
For they are in the struggle and together we shall win.
Our days shall not be sweated from birth until life closes,
Hearts starve as well as bodies, give us bread, but give us roses.

As we come marching, marching, un-numbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread,
Small art and love and beauty their trudging spirits knew
Yes, it is bread we. fight for, but we fight for roses, too.

As we go marching, marching, we're standing proud and tall.
The rising of the women means the rising of us all.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories, bread and roses, bread and roses.

-- Bob Barnetson

Fall out from farm worker WCB exemption

Last week, the Parkland Institute released a report examining why Alberta continues to exclude farm workers from mandatory workers’ compensation coverage. The crux of it was that the Tories are in a symbiotic relationship with rural voters: farmers vote Tory and the Tories (more or less) enact policies farmers want.

There was some good coverage in the Edmonton Journal. The Minister of Jobs, Skills, Training and Labour (Ric McIver) responded to demands for mandatory workers’ compensation coverage for farm workers by saying:

“It’s a traditional system that we haven’t chosen to change.”

The Calgary Herald subsequently pointed out that maintaining historical practices does not necessarily result in ethical or otherwise desirable public policy (cough, cough…segregation, male-only franchise, slavery, residential schools). Maybe pubic policy should be based on a deeper rationale than “that’s the way we’ve always done it”?

McIver also said Alberta has other supports in place for farm workers who have endured financial ruin after an uninsured injury or death. The newspaper didn’t report what those supports are, but I would guess he’s talking about CPP or EI (which are actually federal programs), welfare and, as the Herald snarkily suggested, maybe food banks. 

Not really a great set of “supports” compared to what farm workers would get if their employers were compelled to carry under worker’s compensation coverage.

(A)nd he added that farm workers are not the only Albertans without WCB coverage. 

“When I ran an independent business, and just worked for myself, there were times when I wasn’t required to have WCB insurance, and I worked under those conditions for a number of years myself,” McIver said. 

He rejected a suggestion that a self-employed person chooses not to have coverage, while a farm worker has no choice and is instead at the mercy of his or her employer, who decides whether or not to purchase WCB coverage. 

“Respectfully, they do (have a choice). If they take a job that doesn’t have that coverage, they do. I think people need to make the best choices they can for themselves and their families.”

Where to start? Clearly there is a difference between choosing not to have coverage as a self-employed worker and having your employer choose not to cover you as a worker. In one case, you have a choice and in the other your don’t. This is so obvious as to warrant a "duuuh". 

Caught out by the reporter, McIver then switched arguments to “well, you don’t have to work there.” The idea that farm workers have a choice in the jobs is deceptively attractive. It is, theoretically, true. 

Yet, it ignores that farm work is (for the most part) unskilled labour. Those farm workers who have other employment options have largely departed the occupation (which is one reason farmers are bringing in foreign migrant workers). 

Much of the remainder of the workforce is, effectively, trapped in the occupation unless they want to quit and go on welfare (or just quietly starve to death).

What I’m most struck by is how unsympathetic the Minister’s response was to the plight of injured farm workers and the families of farm workers who died on the job. He (and by association, the government) looks like a real prick.

So what happened? Did he get really, really bad communications advice? Or did he fail to heed that advice? (When I worked in government, there were some Ministers who were simply unbriefable.)

Alternately, this may well be the best rationale the Tories can come up with for the continued exclusion of farm workers from mandatory workers’ compensation coverage. If so, perhaps they might want to change their policy?

-- Bob Barnetson

Friday Tunes: Teacher, Teacher

There are lots of songs about jobs. Today’s installment of labour themes in popular culture is one of my favourite songs from the 1980s: .38 Special’s Teacher, Teacher (from the 1984 soundtrack to Teachers and co-written by Bryan Adams, of all people).

Written from the perspective of a high-school student, it highlights the role teachers play in opening students’ eyes—even if some of the enlightenment comes later and only after some experience (“Just when I thought I finally learned my lesson well/There was more to this than meets the eye”).

It also canvasses the insecurity of young people transitioning into the labour market (“Am I ready for the real world? Will I pass the test?/You know it's a jungle out there”). And picking up on some of the themes from the movie, it also has a bit of cynicism (”But the joke's on those who believe the system's fair”). I have a hard time knowing if this song is intended to be upbeat or quite angst-ridden—perhaps it's both.




Just when I thought I finally learned my lesson well
There was more to this than meets the eye
And for all the things you taught me, only time will tell
If I'll be able to survive, oh yeah

Teacher, teacher can you teach me?
Can you tell me all I need to know?
Teacher, teacher can you reach me?
Or will I fall when you let me go? Oh, no

Am I ready for the real world? Will I pass the test?
You know it's a jungle out there
Ain't nothin' gonna stop me, I won't be second best
But the joke's on those who believe the system's fair, oh yeah

Teacher, teacher can you teach me?
Can you tell me if I'm right or wrong?
Teacher, teacher can you reach me?
I wanna know what's goin' on, oh yeah

So the years go on and on but nothing's lost or won
What you learn is soon forgotten
They take the best years of your life
Try to tell you wrong from right
But you walk away with nothing, oh oh

Teacher, teacher can you teach me?
Can you tell me all I need to know?
Teacher, teacher can you reach me?
Or will I fall when you let me go?

Teacher, teacher can you teach me?
Can you tell me if I'm right or wrong?
Teacher, teacher can you reach me?
I wanna know what's goin' on, oh

Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Teacher, teacher, can you reach me?
Teacher, teacher, can you teach me?
Teacher, teacher, oh yeah

Teacher, teacher can you teach me?
Teach me

-- Bob

Barnetson

A dirty business: Denying farm workers workers' compensation

The Parkland Institute has just released a report that examines the exclusion of Alberta farm workers from mandatory workers’ compensation. The short version is that Alberta’s waged farm workers generally have no wage-replacement, vocational rehabilitation or fatality benefits because the Tories have decided it is more important to retain the electoral support of rural voters (who don’t want to pay workers’ compensation premiums).

There is obvious more to it than that. One interesting wrinkle is that farm workers face very similar working conditions to firefighters. Neither can refuse unsafe work. Both have high risks of workplace injury, including developing occupational cancer. Yet farm workers have no access to workers’ compensation benefits. By contrast, firefighters have exceptional access, particularly around the issue of workplace cancer.

What explains this? Well, firefighters are unionized, white males who work for sophisticated employers who don’t oppose workers’ compensation for injuries sustained on the job. Farm workers? Not so much. Add in craven electoral politics and you see the government allowing farmers to transfer the cost of workplace injuries onto their workers and the public health system.

-- Bob Barnetson

Teachers, social work and workload

Teachers are often derided for their (allegedly) short working days and long vacations. These accusations have been repeatedly refuted. For example, a 2013 study found teachers in Alberta spent on average 41.3 hour per week working in school and an additional 13.9 hours per week working at home (that is, on average, 55.2 hours per week). Suddenly, two months of summer vacation seems a lot more reasonable.

This past weekend, the Guardian ran a piece about the working conditions of teachers. This teacher (in the UK) discussed the social issues she must cope with in her classroom (e.g., children under significant emotional strain, children who have been sexually abused) and how these affect her ability to meet national performance standards. In effect she spends much of her class room time on social work.

As I was pushing through the pre-holiday marking pile, I was thinking back to some of my own teachers and what they (unintentionally) taught me about teaching. Mr. Constable (who taught me English, Literature and History over the years) was a bit unconventional. For example, in grade-12 Literature, he returned a paper I submitted in grade-11 English. I recall my mother (herself a teacher) saying he must be a very patient marker… . But he also put up with a bad reading of Shakespeare (including me in drag as Lady MacBeth and a lot of fake blood) and history term papers that veered into speculative fiction.

Yet, when I face a paper that misses the mark or completely ignores the instructions, I often find myself thinking back to his very engaging style of teaching and lenient marking. “It’s often the first time through the material for the students,” he explained, “so you have to give them some latitude. The good ones refine their ideas that way.” I keep trying to remember that.

-- Bob Barnetson

Friday Tunes: One's On the Way

This week’s installment of labour themes in pop culture features “One’s on the way” by Loretta Lynn. Lynn shines a (rather twang-y) spotlight on the disproportionate responsibility women bear for social reproduction (e.g., child- and elder-care, making dinner, doing the laundry). While less easily quantified than the ongoing wage-gap between men and women, the “second shift” is an important practical impediment gender equality by limiting women's ability to participate in the workforce.

Lynn cleverly contrasts (then) pop-culture representations of relatively privileged women (“They say to have her hair done Liz flies all the way to France”) with the lived reality of less privileged women (“But here in Topeka the rain is a fallin'/The faucet is a drippin' and the kids are a bawlin'”). As an aside, concepts like child care and mothering are usually constructed in very narrow and universally positive ways. If you google up images of either term, you get happy, upper-class pictures. I had to hunt for the "exhausted mom" picture above and it is still pretty "Better Homes and Gardens".

I chose the Muppet's version of this song because… well, I like the Muppets. It is interesting that the Muppet’s cut out the reference to birth control (“the pill”). This seems to amplify Lynn’s point that most lower class women had (and still have) little control over their fertility. This arrangement creates structural conditions for women that perpetuates the existing distribution of social and economic roles.



They say to have her hair done Liz flies all the way to France
And Jackie's seen in a discotheque doin' a brand new dance
And the White House social season should be glittering and gay
But here in Topeka the rain is a fallin'
The faucet is a drippin' and the kids are a bawlin'
One of them a toddlin' and one is a crawlin' and one's on the way

I'm glad that Raquel Welch just signed a million dollar pact
And Debbie's out in Vegas workin' up a brand new act
While the TV's showin' Newlyweds a real fun game to play
But here in Topeka the screen door's a bangin'
The coffee's boilin' over and the wash needs a hangin'
One wants a cookie and one wants a changin' and one's on the way

Now what was I doin' Jimmy get away from there darn there goes the phone
Hello honey what's that you say you're bringin' a few ole buddies home
You're callin' from a barn get away from there
No not you honey I was talkin' to the baby wait a minute honey the door bell
Honey could you stop at the market and hello hello well I'll be

The girls in New York City they all march for women's lib
And Better Homes and Gardens shows the modern way to live
And the pill may change the world tomorrow but meanwhile today

Here in Topeka the flies are a buzzin'
The dog is a barkin' and the floor needs a scrubbin'
One needs a spankin' and one needs a huggin' Lord one's on the way
Oh gee I hope it ain't twins again

-- Bob Barnetson

Expanding animal cruelty laws to farm workers

The National Law Guild Review just published an interesting article entitled “Work like a Dog: Expanding Animal Cruelty Statutes to Gain Human Rights for Migrant Farmworkers in the US”.

It begins by contrasting the consequences for employers when two workers died in separate heat-related fatalities in California. The supervisors of a pregnant 17-year-old who died after being forced to work in the sun for 9 hours pruning grapes swung a plea bargain:

One supervisor pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor account of failing to provide shade and was sentenced to 40 hours of community service, three years of probation and a $370 fine. A second supervisor pleaded guilty to a felony count of failing to follow safety regulations resulting in death and was sentenced for 480 hours of community service, five years of probation and a $1,000 fine (p.45).

By contrast, a police officer whose service dog (the second "worker") died after being left in a hot car was ordered to pay a $411 fine, $4941 in restitution for the dog, perform 100 hours of community service and serve three years of probation. The employer also installed heat alarms in the cars to prevent similar deaths in the future.

What is striking (although not really surprising) is that killing a dog resulted in a harsher sentence and more effective hazard mitigation than did killing a farm worker. Recognizing that animals are accorded more rights than farm workers (a situation replicated in Alberta), the article explores the novel strategy of expanding existing animal cruelty statutes in order to provide core human rights to migrant farm workers.

-- Bob Barnetson

Friday Tunes: Blue Sky Mine

One of the first songs I recall hearing that clearly connected music to work is 1990’s Blue Sky Mine by Midnight Oil. The song is about the devastation that has flowed from the Wittenoom asbestos mine in Australia. Already, over 2000 of the 7000 miners employed by the Colonial Sugar Refinery (that owned the mine) and their 13,000 dependants who were on site between 1937 and 1966 have died from asbestos-related diseases.

Due to the employers hiding knowledge of the hazards posed by asbestos, asbestos was often used in local roads, gardens and school yards (it even doubled a snow in the Wizard of Oz). It is hard to adequately convey the immorality of asbestos employers (and governments who backed them--including Canada's Chretien and Harper governments) but Midnight Oil makes a valiant attempt.

Written from the perspective of an injured miner, the song talks about how disposable workers are (“So I’m caught in the junction still waiting for medicine”) and how employers lied (and continue to lie) about the effects of asbestos (“They’re crossing their fingers they pay the truth makers”). The worker also talks about how economic dependence limited his options then (“There’ll be food on the table tonight.”) and now (“Hope the crumbs in my pocket can keep me for another night”), poignantly asking “Who's gonna save me?”

Blue Sky Mine also directly engages the profit imperative of capitalism that incentivizes such truly horrid behaviour from corporations (“The balance sheet is breaking up the sky” and “And the company takes what the company wants/And nothing's as precious, as a hole in the ground”).

I picked an acoustic cover by Genevieve Lemon, which shifts the song from anger into sadness but also make sthe lyrics a bit easier to hear.



Hey, hey-hey hey
There'll be food on the table tonight
Hey, hey, hey hey
There'll be pay in your pocket tonight

My gut is wrenched out it is crunched up and broken
A life that is led is no more than a token
Who'll strike the flint upon the stone and tell me why

If I yell out at night there's a reply of bruised silence
The screen is no comfort I can't speak my sentence
They blew the lights at heaven's gate and I don't know why

But if I work all day at the blue sky mine
(There'll be food on the table tonight)
Still I walk up and down on the blue sky mine
(There'll be pay in your pocket tonight)

The candy store paupers lie to the share holders
They're crossing their fingers they pay the truth makers
The balance sheet is breaking up the sky

So I'm caught at the junction still waiting for medicine
The sweat of my brow keeps on feeding the engine
Hope the crumbs in my pocket can keep me for another night

And if the blue sky mining company won't come to my rescue
If the sugar refining company won't save me
Who's gonna save me?

But if I work all day...

And some have sailed from a distant shore
And the company takes what the company wants
And nothing's as precious, as a hole in the ground

Who's gonna save me?
I pray that sense and reason brings us in
Who's gonna save me?

We've got nothing to fear
In the end the rain comes down
Washes clean, the streets of a blue sky town

-- Bob Barnetson