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

The silence around dead kids on farms

As part of my research on farm worker rights, I read a fair bit about farm workers being killed. One of the more moving stories of this past year came from Saskatchewan where one family (over the course of several years) lost three of their six children (ages 16, 14 and 10) to injuries sustained while driving farm machinery (a tractor and a ATV).

Obviously these are tragedies for the family.

From a research perspective, these deaths were pretty predictable. Rollovers, rider rundown, and blind rundowns together comprise the most common way kids die on the farm. This reflects that farm kids often operate machinery:

Cliff Arnal says all his children were part of the farm from a young age — Sean swung from a Jolly Jumper attached to the roof of a combine as a baby. He started driving a tractor at 11. Blake was running a combine by the time he was eight, the same age Lyndon was when he first got behind the wheel of a semi-trailer.

The inherent dangers of operating multi-ton machinery are compounded by the physical and intellectual immaturity of children. We recognize this in almost every other setting by radically limiting the situations in which children drive.

One of the more striking aspects of the news coverage is the absence of any criticism of the parents for letting minors operate dangerous farm equipment. Before you wig out about “kicking parents when they are down” (which is likely why the reporter didn’t go there), know that I’m quite sympathetic to their loss and I spent a lot of time thinking about it before raising this point.

In almost any other situation, a parent allowing a child to undertake activities that are likely to cause physical harm would likely be in breach of provincial child welfare laws and subject to approbation by their community. For this reason, I don’t let my 11-year-old run the chainsaw or clean the shotgun or drive the Subaru. 

Yet there is no mention of anyone looking askance at this behaviour and the folks I spoke with were all super-leery of the whole line of discussion. Not surprisingly, the various reporters repeat the parent’s justification without any further inquiry

Anne Arnal says keeping her kids from farm work wasn't an option, even after Blake's death. Sean and Lyndon were energetic boys and she didn't want them growing up a bubble, playing video games in the basement. They wouldn't have been the people they were supposed to be, she says.

I suppose one could honestly believe that not driving a vehicle unsupervised until one is old enough to have a driver’s license is “growing up in a bubble”. Yet, based on what we consider normal behaviour in any other circumstances, I’m inclined to disagree.

What she’s really saying here is that she chose to let her kids drive dangerous farm machinery. Why she did that is an interesting question. Social norms? Economic pressure? Bad judgment?

Underlying the parent’s assertion is a (I think) broadly held view that farming is a risky business. The corollary (that no one wants to say aloud) is that a certain degree of injury and death (even among farm kids) is inevitable and widely accepted.

There is likely some truth to this—farming is very dangerous and people die.

Yet, that people will die doesn’t mean that we can’t or shouldn’t try to prevent those deaths via behavioral change. And, we likely ought to concentrate such efforts among the most vulnerable populations, like children.

The stock response to questions about farm safety for kids is usually, “we can/should/do educate the children.” This is, of course, not really working that well, likely because kids shouldn’t be (and generally aren’t) the ones responsible for deciding what kids can and can’t do on a farm.

And parents don’t seem to be doing a great job of regulating children’s behaviour (for lots of complex reasons—such as production pressures and lack of child care). Anywhere but on a farm, we’d expect the state to step in and regulate the situation. 

While skeptics of regulation abound, the evidence that regulation works is overwhelming: requiring seatbelts, child safety seats and bike helmets and prohibiting impaired driving (off the top of my head) are all regulatory efforts associated with reductions in injury rates. This issue is not whether regulation works, but whether there is any political will to implement it.

Like most provinces, Saskatchewan has laws governing health and safety on farms. But they are not applicable to the children of farmers. This means that pretty much anything goes on in terms of child labour on Saskatchewan farms. In Alberta, the government doesn’t even bother with the pretense of regulating child labour and worker safety on farms.

The upshot of this state of affairs is that more kids are going to die, needlessly, on farms. And that is the real tragedy here.

-- Bob Barnetson

Friday Tunes: Christmas in LA

This week’s holiday-themed installment of labour themes in popular music is Christmas in LA by the Killers (with special appearance by Owen “the Butterscotch Stallion” Wilson). The song is written from the perspective of an actor in LA.

Facing the holiday season alone, he grapples with isolation (“There’s a well-rehearsed disinterest in the atmosphere”), loss of identify (“And I played so many parts/I don’t know which one’s really me”), opportunity cost (“Left a girl behind in my old man’s truck/Sometimes I wonder where she ended up”) and career frustration (“Another casting call on Thursday/For a job that doesn’t pay”).

Overall, rather dreary lyrics with a lovely melody. While it might be hard to sympathize with an actor in LA (as the snow flies outside…), the notion of isolation and opportunity cost is a common one among many workers who travel (often great distances and for long periods of time) for work. Consider this week’s earlier post about workers shuttle from New Brunswick to oilsands and mining jobs on the Prairies.



Woke up, the sun streaming in my room
Warm beach front palm December afternoon
You close your eyes

Another year blows by
Somewhere in the wind
Just another life

My parents sent a Christmas card and some tennis shoes
We understand why you’re staying
And we’re proud of you

There’s a well-rehearsed disinterest in the atmosphere
I don’t know if that’s what this town gave me
Or if it lead me here

And I played so many parts
I don’t know which one’s really me
Don’t know if I can take

Another Christmas in L.A.
Another pitcher of Sangria
In an empty beach café

Another Christmas in L.A.
Hold me tighter Carmelita
I don’t know how long I can stay

Left a girl behind in my old man’s truck
Sometimes I wonder where she ended up
Maybe she got married, had a couple of kids
Who do you think you’re fooling man?
Of course she did

I’m walking in Dan Tana’s bar
Try and talk with Harry Dean
I don’t know if I can take

Another Christmas in L.A.
Another casting call on Thursday
For a job that doesn’t pay

Another Christmas in L.A.
Another burnout in a tank top
Who seems to bask in his decay case

A fat protagonist in flip flops
With an extensive resume
From Echo Park to Catalina

Dreaming of a white Christmas
The one I used to know
Tree tops glisten, children listen
To sleigh bells in the snow

Another Christmas in L.A...

-- Bob Barnetson