Workers, Unions, and Global Capitalism: Lessons from India

Introduction

The Politics of Globalization

Globalization has had a profound impact on labor worldwide, but what, exactly, has this impact been? Enthusiastic proponents of globalization in its heretofore dominant form argue that it levels the playing field between developed and developing countries, creating employment in the latter and enabling them to pull themselves out of poverty (cf. T. Friedman 2005). Diametrically opposed to them are the passionate proponents of deglobalization, who see globalization as synonymous with inequality and oppression and who advocate disabling the World Trade Organization, International Monetary Fund, World Bank, and transnational corporations (cf. Bello 2000).

The economic crisis that started in the United States in September 2008 and swept through the world left the first camp in disarray. With financial institutions collapsing, millions of jobs being lost, GDPs shrinking, and world trade contracting (Wade 2009), even Thomas Friedman (2009) had to admit that the market was hitting the wall. The opposite camp, predictably, was triumphant: The current global downturn, the worst since the Great Depression 70 years ago, pounded the last nail into the coffin of globalization, proclaimed Walden Bello (2009).

However, there is a third position, which represents the majority of workers throughout the world. They have been fighting a losing battle for jobs, better employment conditions, and social security for over three decades, a struggle that has become more desperate since the downturn. While it is clear that the model of globalization pursued so far has been a disaster for them, deglobalization would mean a further loss of jobs for workers in exporting countries and would raise both costs of production for companies using their products and the cost of living for consumers. Dissatisfied with both of these positions, international unions have advocated building workers’ rights into the new global order (cf. ICFTU 1999), but this has yet to emerge as a concrete alternative.

This book argues that it is not globalization as such but the dominant neoliberal model of it alongside traditional authoritarian labor relations that have exerted downward pressure on labor standards. It attempts to put flesh on the bones of the third alternative by looking at workers’ responses to globalization: responses that indicate that labor is a social force which is central to the development of the international political economy and international relations (Harrod and O’Brien 2002a, 8).

One year after the bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers, there were superficial signs of recovery, but a closer look at unemployment, poverty rates, and foreclosures in the United States showed that there was no end in sight for the suffering of regular people, while the banking sector and Wall Street continued to act in a manner that ensured that the causes of the financial crisis continue unabated and in some cases have worsened (Weissman 2009). The EU economy was shrinking. While the prognosis in other countries might not have been so dire, the downturn was far from over. The crisis has made it more urgent for the labor movement to craft a viable response to globalization, but paradoxically, it has also made it easier to question the previously dominant model, given that it led to such a catastrophe.

The effect of globalization on labor has been complex and even contradictory. Trade union movements firmly anchored in national history and legislation found it difficult to cope with global integration and the vastly increased mobility of capital; one consequence of this was the decline in the proportion of the labor force organized in unions over the last three decades of the twentieth century, which weakened the bargaining power of workers (Harrod and O’Brien 2002, 10–11). Yet between 1975 and 1995, the global labor force doubled (Munck 2002, 8), making it potentially much stronger as a social force. This book argues that recovery from the crisis depends, to a large extent, on the judicious use of this power by workers worldwide.

The secular expansion in employment coexisted with drastic declines in some sectors, including highly unionized ones. Large-scale industrialization in some of the former colonies and the end of the cold war resulted in key East European and developing countries emerging as attractive markets and investment destinations for global capital, thus intensifying competition for jobs among workers who were formerly insulated from such competition. Yet these same events removed obstacles to solidarity between unions in former colonies and imperialist states and between unions on opposite sides of the Iron Curtain. Convergence between employment conditions in different parts of the world made it easier for workers from widely different backgrounds to identify with one another, potentially making global solidarity an achievable goal. Technologies that facilitated the mobility of capital and global competition for jobs at the same time provided workers with a means of spreading the consequences of a local dispute around the world at rapid speed (Herod 2002).

Thus the negative fallout of globalization for workers is accompanied by developments that create the potential for counteracting those disadvantages and, indeed, building an even stronger labor movement. But that would require, first, a rigorous definition of globalization so that the effects of the changes in the nature of capitalism—such as the revolution in information and communication technologies—can be disentangled from the neoliberal assault on workers’ rights. Second, it would entail a drive to reverse the decline in union density, either by undertaking a drastic overhaul of existing unions or by creating new models of unionism, such as social-movement unionism in South Africa, Brazil, and South Korea (Moody 1997, 201–226; Munck 2002, 122–125) and employees’ unionism in India (chapter 5 of this book). This drive would have to include special measures to tackle the rapid spread of informalization, which creates employees without legal status or rights. The extralegal character of this sector breeds child labor, slavelike conditions, and all manner of abuses, which are exacerbated by the preponderance of disadvantaged workers in it: women, ethnic and religious minorities, migrants, indigenous people, and so on.

The third task would be to formulate a global strategy for labor. This does not mean abandoning the local or national as an arena for struggle. But it does mean thinking globally even when acting locally, because local action—or inaction—that allows workers’ rights to be undermined in some distant part of the world results in an assault on one’s own rights. For example, protectionist policies aimed at protecting and expanding domestic employment at the expense of workers elsewhere ultimately have a negative effect everywhere (Stevis 2002, 146). Global solidarity in this sense has become a condition for survival, and it demands a much greater knowledge of developments in other countries than ever before. It also demands a fundamental change in the strategic orientation of unions, which has hitherto been centered on the nation-state. Even the largest international confederation, the International Confederation of Free Trade Unions (which merged in 2006 with the World Confederation of Labour to form the International Trade Union Confederation), was a confederation of national trade union centres, which means that its governing bodies are composed of representatives of organizations accustomed to think and act within the confines of the nation-state (Gallin 2002, 238). The alternative is not necessarily a monolithic global organization but, rather, a global movement unified by its goals and developing its strategies through debates across all the borders that divide workers.

The central argument of this book, then, is that globalization itself cannot be reversed any more than the industrial revolution could have been reversed, but the politics of globalization constitutes terrain that can and must be contested by workers and unions if the world economy is to emerge from deep crisis. Therefore a global strategy for labor would require that workers not oppose globalization but fight for their own politics, a politics based on global solidarity and democracy, to shape the process.

The Importance of the Local

It is a paradox of globalization that the greater interconnectedness of the global economy… which high-speed telecommunications and transportation technologies have augured means that the consequences of any particular event can be transmitted much further and much faster than ever before (Herod 2002, 87). Consequently, local events become global ones. In other words, "the growing extensity, intensity, and velocity of global interactions may also be associated with a deepening enmeshment of the local and global such that the impact of distant events is magnified while even the most local developments come to have enormous global consequences" (Held et al. 1999, 15). If this is true of a particular event, it is even more true of labor relations in a whole country: the lowering of barriers to trade and capital movements not only exposes a country’s labor force to influences from the global economy but also exposes the rest of the world’s labor force to the influence of a particular country’s economy. Recognition of this on the part of trade unions resulted in the campaign for a social clause in WTO trade agreements upholding core labor rights. China has understandably received a great deal of attention because of the size of its labor force, the ubiquity of its products, and its authoritarian political system, which bans independent unions. But there is a curious lack of such interest in India, given that it follows closely on the heels of China in terms of the size of its labor force and its growing importance within the global economy.

One reason for this difference could be the perception that labor relations in China constitute a bigger threat to workers in other countries than do labor relations in India, but this is not necessarily true. In China, the preliberalization social contract, which guaranteed job security and extensive welfare benefits for workers, created a strong sense of entitlement among Chinese workers. The government was forced to replace it in the postliberalization period with a labor law promising workers’ rights and social security in order to counter massive social unrest, which from 2003 through 2005 led millions of workers to riot or demonstrate (Lee 2007). In India, by contrast, the overwhelming preponderance of informal workers in the labor force facilitated the absence of either social or legal contracts promising workers’ rights; the sense of entitlement and thus scale of protest were correspondingly much smaller.

Both Chinese and Indian workers have gained employment from offshoring and outsourcing. But the Chinese model of the attempted denial of workers’ rights cannot easily be replicated in countries with a different legal system, whereas the Indian model, where the bulk of the labor force is not even registered or accorded legal status as workers, is far more insidious and has spread rapidly to countries where it was rare or unknown before. On the other hand, India has suffered less from the crisis than the United States or European Union. Although India’s stock markets plunged as foreign institutional investors withdrew their funds, its well-regulated banking sector, with a negligible exposure to toxic assets, stood firm (Ram Mohan 2009). And while tens of thousands of jobs were lost in sectors producing for export, the overall increase in unemployment and consequent loss of consumer spending power were mitigated by the National Rural Employment Guarantee Scheme (see chapter 8), which was up and running before the crisis and was allocated more funds after the crisis began. Furthermore, the decline in membership among traditional trade unions was offset by the establishment and growth of a dynamic new federation of independent unions. Thus there are both positive and negative lessons to be learned from the Indian experience, and workers and unions in other countries cannot afford to ignore them.

In July 1991, the Congress Party government, headed by Narasimha Rao, was faced with foreign-exchange reserves sufficient for just a fortnight’s imports. To deal with that crisis, it began to implement the stabilization and structural-adjustment programs that had already been recommended by the IMF and World Bank in the late 1980s. This included the abolition of licensing procedures for manufacturing investment (which had popularly come to be known as a corruption-ridden license-permit raj), a reduction of the high import tariffs on most goods (but not consumer goods), liberalizing terms of entry for foreign investors, and liberalizing capital markets. Although Rajiv Gandhi had initiated a process of piecemeal liberalization in the mid-1980s, the changes introduced in 1991 were much broader in scope and scale (Balasubramanyam and Mahambare 2001).

When the WTO was established on January 1, 1995, India was a member from the start. This involved new pressures, for example, to eliminate quantitative restrictions on imports, simplify and reduce tariffs, reduce export constraints, reduce the number of activities reserved for the public sector and small-scale sector, further liberalize the Foreign Direct Investment regime, and address the fiscal deficit. India’s close integration into the world economy has been more or less continuous since 1991, despite changes of government. This book examines how it is has affected workers and how they have responded, especially in one of India’s biggest industrial centers, Bombay,¹ and makes numerous comparisons with examples from all over the world, drawing lessons, both positive and negative, for a global strategy for labor.

Chapter 1 outlines the background that led to this research and discusses the research method used,² explaining why the method of emancipatory action research is more appropriate in this case than the attempt to be objective. My theoretical approach is presented so that it is clear where I am coming from and why this analysis was undertaken. Chapter 2 arrives at a working definition of globalization by examining existing definitions and making a critique of some. The merit of my definition is that it allows for a more nuanced response to globalization than either embracing it in its neoliberal form or rejecting it altogether. Chapter 3 examines four sources of the economic crisis of 2008 and suggests how three of them can be counteracted. The fourth—the widening gap between rich and poor—can only be redressed by a strong labor movement, and chapters 4 to 9 look at ways in which this can happen. Chapter 4 looks at the trade union movement in India against the background of the worldwide labor movement, examining in particular its relationship with the state. It argues that globalization reduces the power of individual states to protect labor rights but creates the conditions for member states of the WTO to protect workers’ rights collectively. Chapter 5 discusses the importance of trade union democracy for the learning process in the labor movement and defines and examines an important experiment in union democracy, the employees’ unions that have been formed spontaneously as an alternative to the party affiliated national unions in India.

Chapter 6 takes up informal employment, definitions and debates around it, and the conditions of informal workers, arguing that informal labor constitutes the single biggest problem facing the global labor movement in the early twenty-first century. I examine strategies to confront the problem of informal labor suggested by trade unions, informal workers, and the ILO. Chapter 7 examines the adverse effects of sexual harassment on women workers and analyzes the gender division of labor at the workplace and in the home. I also discuss strategies to defend the equality and dignity of working women. Chapter 8 argues that massive resources are needed to create employment and support social-security and welfare programs if the world is to emerge from recession, and a struggle by unions against the narrow vested interests promoting militarism can release them.

Chapter 9 looks at international efforts to deal with the effects of globalization on labor, including international agreements between trade unions and employers, international solidarity action, codes of conduct, and the proposal for a social clause protecting workers’ rights in WTO agreements. I examine the way in which employees’ unions and informal workers in Bombay have used, reacted to, or participated in them, emphasizing examples of international solidarity. Their potential for improving workers’ rights globally is evaluated. Finally, chapter 10 draws out and puts together conclusions arising out of the preceding chapters, which suggest strongly that only a truly global strategy for labor is capable of confronting the challenges of globalization and crisis.

My hope is that this analysis of global labor from the perspective of a crucially important section of it will contribute to a better understanding of globalization, and especially to a realization that workers can and do play a role in shaping the process. This role could be much greater—and indeed must be greater—if the global economy is to recover from the crisis. My argument is that realizing this potential depends on the ability of workers throughout the world to build bonds of solidarity across existing divisions and elaborate a strategy synthesizing the interests of all sections of the global labor force.

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Emancipatory Action Research Into Workers’ Struggles

This book is an account of emancipatory action research, which is collaborative, critical, and self-critical inquiry by practitioners… into a major problem or issue or concern in their own practice (Zuber-Skerritt 1996, 3). The problem or issue or concern in this case was the quandary in which the labor movement found itself in the early twenty-first century, both worldwide and in India: large numbers of unionized workers were losing their jobs while the overwhelming majority of the labor force consisted of informal workers subjected to extremely oppressive employment conditions. Emancipatory action research has been seen as a way of bringing together social science theory and practice (Weiskopf and Laske 1996, 123). As a Bombay-based participant in the labor movement who has been involved in labor research since the mid-1970s, I felt the need for a deeper and more extensive critical enquiry into the practice of this movement, one taking into account changes in the overall context resulting from globalization. My objective was to investigate our shared experience in a manner which link[s] practice and the analysis of practice into a single productive and continuously developing sequence; thus this book is about the nature of the learning process, about the link between practice and reflection, about the process of attempting to have new thoughts about familiar experiences, and about the relationship between particular experiences and general ideas (Winter 1996, 14).

My starting point was the practice of two sections of workers in India—formal workers in employees’ unions and informal workers—who had been affected by globalization in opposite ways: the former losing jobs while the latter gained them. The democratic functioning of the employees’ unions could in some ways be seen as best practice in the trade union movement, yet the fact that the bulk of the labor force remained unorganized posed a problem both for employees in these unions, whose jobs had been transferred in large numbers to informal workers, and for the informal workers themselves, most of whom were unable to bargain collectively in order to improve their employment conditions. The assault on labor rights was already evident by the mid-1970s and intensified with globalization, and even the most combative unions were hard pressed to defend the gains they had made in earlier periods.

This impasse resulted in considerable hardship for many workers who lost their jobs in the formal sector. While unions resisted in various ways, initially they tended to focus their struggle on an opposition to globalization and a defense of members’ jobs rather than attempting to fight for the rights of the informal workers to whom work was being transferred. A broader view revealed that a similar perspective inspired many unions in other countries, who were fighting to retain jobs through protectionist measures rather than looking for ways to defend labor rights globally. This is why I found it necessary to engage in a critique of union practice, which, like all practice, was informed by certain theoretical presuppositions that were open to question.

In this case, I will try to argue that a mistaken understanding of globalization and a failure to identify the real roots of the onslaught that the labor unions faced constituted obstacles to developing a more effective strategy. Developing a better analysis became all the more urgent in the wake of the global economic crisis, which led to massive job losses and strong downward pressure on labor standards worldwide (ILO 2009). The purpose of this theoretical reflection with respect to practical action is… to question the reflective bases upon which the practical actions have been carried out, to offer a reflexive and dialectical critique whose effect is to recall to mind those possibilities that practice has chosen on this occasion to ignore (Winter 1996, 25), and to help workers in different parts of the world to learn from one another.

Social-science research should not be based upon

the aspirations for objectivity which should more rightfully apply to natural science. Some of these are: reification—treatment of people and events as objects; researchers attempting to adopt a neutral, disinterested position; and researchers avoiding admission that they are constitutive of their data. These aspirations for objectivity are pursued on the grounds that to be subjective by revealing the self in research is self-indulgent or, at worst, even narcissistic.

(Hall 1996, 37–38)

In reality, on the contrary, the result of such attempts to be objective is that the constitutive role of the researcher remains hidden, affecting the data and analysis but making it impossible for others to assess in what way it has done so. If emancipatory action research is to have any credibility, therefore, is must adopt a reflexive approach which attempts to

account for researcher constitutiveness. This process begins with being self-conscious (to the extent that this is possible) about how one’s doing of the research as well as what one brings to it (previous experience, knowledge, values, beliefs and a priori concepts) shapes the way the data are interpreted and treated. An account of researcher constitutiveness is completed when this awareness is incorporated in the research report.

(Hall 1996, 30)

These conclusions then have to be tested in practice.

Reflexivity is especially important in action research, which by its nature is the opposite of neutral or disinterested. However, it should be emphasized that a commitment to a goal does not necessarily militate against a commitment to the truth: even in a situation of conflict, no purpose is served by misrepresenting or demonizing one’s opponent. The rest of this chapter will be an attempt to summarize the experience, knowledge, values, beliefs, and concepts underlying my research.

The first important influence on my approach to the research and interpretation of data is Marxism, understood here not as a body of doctrine but as a method and theoretical approach. Marx’s method is perhaps best summarized in his Theses on Feuerbach. According to the first three theses, there is a contradiction in conceiving of social reality as an object, as something to be contemplated, since we ourselves are part of that reality; regarding it as an object therefore amounts to dividing society into two parts, one of which (the researcher, in this instance) is outside of and superior to society. The alternative is to conceive of social reality as human activity or practice, including our own. This has the added advantage of allowing for a resolution of the dispute over whether truth can be attributed to human thinking. "The dispute over the reality or non-reality of thinking that is isolated from practice is a purely scholastic question: it can never be resolved. While it is true that circumstances shape people, this cannot by itself explain historical change, which requires us to recognize that human beings in turn change circumstances. The only way of proving the reality and power, the this-sidedness of our thinking, therefore, is through practical-critical activity, which is the coincidence of the changing of circumstances and of human activity or self-changing" (Marx 1975a, 421–423).

From the standpoint of the overwhelming majority of the European working class in Marx’s day or the global working class in ours, motivation for changing the world appears to come from the desire to escape from starvation wages, long working hours, and unhealthy conditions of work, which lead to misery, illness, and premature death. But that is not all: working-class struggle continues even when workers are relatively well paid and their working conditions reasonably healthy. There is something about the labor relations of capitalist production that produces conflict even when workers are not struggling for mere survival. Marx begins his explanation by saying that concealed behind the categories of political economy, which seem to describe relations between things—commodities and money, for example—are relationships between people. When we buy a commodity, what we acquire is the objectified labor of the workers who have labored to produce it, including those who produced the instruments of production and extracted the raw materials that went into the commodity’s production: people whom we have probably never seen and who may be living in countries thousands of miles away. Conversely, the commodities we produce as workers might include inputs from workers in other parts of the world and may then be consumed by people we have never met. There is a relationship between workers and consumers, but it is not immediately visible, because it is mediated by the market, by money. This causes problems: others may be in desperate need of what we are producing—for example, food or medicines—yet be unable to get it because they have no money to buy it. The scandal of starvation deaths in early twenty-first-century India, which was happening while warehouses overflowed with grain that was rotting and being eaten by rats, is an apt illustration of this aspect of capitalism (see chapter 8).

However, the market is not the only barrier between workers and consumers. Most people do not themselves sell the commodities they produce; instead, they work for employers who do the selling. It looks as if the workers are selling their labor to the employer, but according to Marx, what they actually sell is their labor power, or capacity to labor, and the capitalist, having bought it, sets about making them produce more value than they will get back as wages, i.e., surplus value. The workers not only have to produce a saleable commodity in order to survive; they have to produce it under someone else’s command and work longer and/or harder than they would need to if they were simply supporting themselves and their dependants. For the capitalist, there is also a compulsion to succeed in the competitive struggle with other capitalists, which entails a constant effort to increase profits and accumulate capital (Marx 1976, 283–339). In Marx’s view, this relationship of compulsion and exploitation, the alienation of workers from their own labor (Marx 1976, 990), explains the conflict between workers and employers as well as the source of capitalist profit. In other words, at the heart of the class struggle under capitalism is the fact that for capital, labor power is merely a factor of production and source of profit, whereas for workers, it is inseparable from themselves as living human beings.

It is true that Marx’s work has flaws and needs to be developed and updated. But in my opinion, his basic framework still stands and is confirmed by my research. Nor is it Marxists alone who hold this view.

In October 1997, the business correspondent of the New Yorker, John Cassidy, reported a conversation with an investment banker. The longer I spend on Wall Street, the more convinced I am that Marx was right, the financier said. I am absolutely convinced that Marx’s approach is the best way to look at capitalism. His curiosity aroused, Mr. Cassidy read Marx for the first time. He found riveting passages about globalisation, inequality, political corruption, monopolisation, technical progress, the decline of high culture, and the enervating nature of modern existence—issues that economists are now confronting anew, sometimes without realising that they are walking in Marx’s footsteps.

(Wheen 2005)

And according to George Soros (1998, xxxvi):

Capitalism needs democracy as a counterweight because capitalism by itself shows no tendency towards equilibrium. The owners of capital seek to maximize their profits. Left to their own devices, they would continue to accumulate capital until the situation became unbalanced. Marx and Engels gave a very good analysis of the capitalist system 150 years ago, better in some ways, I must say, than the equilibrium theory of classical economics.

This is an important insight. I will try to argue that one of the key contributors to the crisis of 2008 was a democracy deficit: government policy was shaped by the interests of a tiny minority and not by those of the vast majority of working people in their countries, and consequently the situation became unbalanced. After the crisis hit, Marx’s Capital became a bestseller: "In his native Germany, copies of Das Kapital are reported to be flying off the shelves as failed bankers and free market economists try to make sense of the global economic meltdown" (Suroor 2008). And the foreword to the UN Report on Reforms of the Monetary and Financial System named Marx as among the greatest economic philosophers (UN 2009, 9).

In his early writings, Marx proposes a model of work that is satisfying both because it allows for the free exercise of the worker’s skill and creativity and because it is seen to satisfy another’s need (1975b, 277–278). However, Marx did not reject everything that capitalism had achieved: he saw the vast increase in the productivity of labor due to large-scale production and technological advances as laying the basis for his vision of the future, when the associated producers would control the means of production for the collective good, with people contributing in accordance with their abilities and receiving in accordance with their needs (Marx 1974a, 347). The working-class struggle for this vision is what he described as communism.

Marx produced neither a blueprint of this utopia nor a roadmap for arriving at it. Some of his writings, especially on the Paris Commune, suggest that workers would have to discover the pathway and goal for themselves (Marx 1974b, 212); this would accord with his view in the Theses on Feuerbach. Inevitably, workers make mistakes when they embark on this journey into unknown territory. One example cited by Marx is Luddism:

The large-scale destruction of machinery which occurred in the English manufacturing districts during the first fifteen years of the nineteenth century, largely as a result of the employment of the power-loom, and known as the Luddite movement, gave the anti-Jacobin government… a pretext for the most violent and reactionary measures. It took both time and experience before the workers learned to distinguish between machinery and its employment by capital, and therefore to transfer their attacks from the material instruments of production to the form of society which utilizes those instruments.

(Marx 1976, 554–555)

This example of learning by the working class exemplifies a process going on all the time. E. P. Thompson’s Making of the English Working Class (1966), which gives a more detailed account not only of Luddism but also of many other working-class struggles during the late eighteenth century and first half of the nineteenth century, looks at the multiplicity of ideas and practices that existed within the working class and the process of discussion and debate out of which particular strategies emerged and were tested in practice. Michael Vester’s analysis of his account (1975) showed that this process could be resolved into phases of activity followed by phases of reflection, which together constituted cycles of learning. As Gramsci noted, the process of reflection could be carried out by new organic intellectuals emerging from the working class, as well as by traditional intellectuals who threw in their lot with the workers (Gramsci 1971, 9–10). In many ways, this cycle of struggle, reflection on experience, trying out new strategies, and once again reflecting on them resembles emancipatory action research in its dialectical interweaving of thought and practice.

One of the lessons learned by workers very early on was that in isolation they could never resist domination by capital: the only hope of improving their lot lay in combining into a workers’ union that eliminated competition among the workers who belonged to it. This resulted in a powerful movement—the trade union movement—which exists on a much wider scale today and has been responsible for major improvements in wages, working hours, and working conditions as well as legislation that upholds workers’ rights. It was then the capitalists who had to learn a lesson. They had been unsuccessful in opposing the right of workers to form combinations or shorten working hours, but they found other ways to increase the extraction of surplus value, through the introduction of more machinery and the intensification of labor (Marx 1976, 534).

Paradoxically, the net result of the successful struggle for the ten-hour day was that it compelled employers to make technological and organizational changes that altered the entire system and propelled industry forward at a much more rapid rate (Marx 1976, 542). Thus the actual development of capitalism is the outcome of this complex interaction between action, reflection, and learning on the part of workers and a similar process of learning among capitalists, the outcome of which might in some cases make working-class struggle easier (for example, legislation protecting the right to organize and bargain collectively) and in other cases make it more difficult (for example, casualization and informalization).

This view contrasts with a more deterministic interpretation of Marx’s critique of political economy, according to which the driving force in capitalist society is the logic of capital and the most the working class can do is to respond to this logic. It has been pointed out that many Marxists appear to make the assumption that under no circumstances do workers take the initiative in bringing about changes in capitalism (Herod 2001). But such a reading would be at odds with the Theses on Feuerbach. Even in Capital, which is most prone to this interpretation because it sets out to lay bare the logic of capital as an impersonal compulsion on both workers and owners of capital, the presence of an opposing logic of working-class struggle is evident. Indeed, from Marx’s time to our own, major changes in capitalism, such as the introduction of new technologies, reorganization of the labor process, and relocation of facilities to new sites, are often a response by capitalists to workers’ success in controlling the labor process or imposing their own rules on production in other ways (cf. Edwards 1979). Even globalization, a prime example of what is seen as a capital-driven process, is not a monopoly of capital: given the formation of organizations like the International Working Men’s Association (First International) in the 1860s, it might even be suggested that the formal transnationalization of labor in many ways predates that of capital (Herod 2001, 131).

Marx’s work concentrates on the logic of capital, and the logic of working-class struggle can only be glimpsed from time to time, although it is more evident in his political writings. Generalizing from his work, that of other labor historians, and my own experience, I would say that the driving force of working-class struggle, analogous to capital’s drive to accumulate, is a desire for dignity, recognition, and control over one’s own life and work rather than a struggle for mere biological survival. The conception of workers as human beings capable of making mistakes and learning from experience seems much more realistic than conceptions that see them either as born revolutionaries or as incapable of achieving a consciousness of their common interests without enlightenment from outside. Only a tiny minority of workers consciously set themselves the goal of abolishing capitalism and putting an alternative society in its place, yet wherever principles of autonomy and solidarity guide their practice, they may fight for objectives—such as information and consultation rights or social-security and welfare systems—whose rationale is the satisfaction of people’s needs as workers and consumers, as opposed to the capitalist logic of accumulation.

Unionization may eliminate competition between workers in one particular union, but competition with nonunionized workers and workers in other unions remains. And even if all the unionized workers in one country belonged to a single federation, competition with nonunionized workers in that country as well as workers in other countries would persist—the disadvantages of which have become much clearer with globalization. Divisions within the working class based on gender, race, caste, religion, nationality, and so on are all obstacles to success in this struggle, fostering competition instead of solidarity. Thus transformation of the social relations of production from exploitative capitalist relations to cooperative egalitarian ones requires that workers forge wider bonds of solidarity with other workers.

This conception of communism—which I would call anarchocommunism, as it does not involve taking state power—is very different from what prevailed when I was a student at Oxford in 1967 through 1970. At that time, the left was fairly neatly divided into First Worldists (mostly Trotskyist), who expected the socialist revolution to be achieved first in the advanced capitalist (imperialist or former imperialist) countries, Second Worldists (mostly Stalinist, even if critical of Stalin), who believed that the socialist revolution had already taken place in the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, and Third Worldists (mostly Maoist), who thought it was actually taking place in the Third World.¹ All of these camps saw the seizure of state power as a crucial step in the revolution, and none of them seemed to feel it was a problem to conceive of a socialist country or group of countries embedded in a capitalist world economy. In this they were partly following in the footsteps of Marx and Engels, who also saw communism as being established in one part of the world (Europe) while capitalism was still developing in others.

I had problems with this conception of communism, problems that I am far better able to articulate now, after a small group of us in various parts of India engaged in a process of intensive discussion in the mid-1970s during the repressive regime of Indira Gandhi’s Emergency and after decades of involvement in the labor movement. Despite the upheavals of 1968, the prospect of workers in the United States (at that time embroiled in the war in Vietnam) and Europe (where racist politicians such as Enoch Powell could appeal to sections of the working class) making a communist revolution seemed remote. The Third World, where the majority of working people were the rural poor whose main aspiration was to own a plot of land and where the proletariat was mostly uneducated if not illiterate, seemed equally distant from socialism. The Soviet Union and Eastern bloc seemed furthest of all from communism, with workers deprived even of rights enjoyed in the First World and some Third World countries. In all these cases, the assumption of revolutionary actuality or potential rested on the claim that various parties could represent the working class by taking state power and carrying out a transformation of social relations.

This notion is modeled on the bourgeois revolution, which is indeed national in form, where the seizure of state power is a critical step and where the bourgeoisie can be represented by one or more parties. But it is completely unsatisfactory as a conceptualization of communist revolution, where the whole point is that the working class itself carries out a simultaneous transformation of itself and its circumstances. It also raises the problem pointed out by Marx in the Theses on Feuerbach: who will educate the educators, the so-called representatives of the proletariat, who see themselves as being superior to society but are actually embedded in it and have their own interests—interests that may well depart from those of the working class? Finally, even supposing the proletariat in one country or group of countries could carry out a socialist transformation of relations of production, how would it relate to the capitalist world around it? It would have to insulate itself economically and compete militarily, which could only occur if there were an authoritarian state as there was in the Soviet Union, or its own relations of production would be contaminated by the capitalist ones with which it interacted; in neither case would it be truly communist.

In fact, the interdependence between national economies, which was already a feature of capitalism in the nineteenth century and has been intensified by globalization, rules out the possibility of any such circumscribed communist revolutions. In my opinion, activity directed toward taking state power belongs firmly in the realm of bourgeois politics. It may be progressive as part of a struggle against feudalism, imperialism, or fascism, since struggles for democracy, by winning rights such as freedom of expression and association, give workers an opportunity to organize themselves and debate issues democratically. But a serious problem with the nation-statist conception of revolution is that in order to defeat the existing state and take over state power, it is necessary to create institutions that mirror the state apparatus: political party, bureaucracy, and, in the case of groups that envisage the capture of state power through armed struggle, armed forces. Those who construct and control this apparatus have a vested interest in maintaining it after coming to power. If communism is seen not as something other than democracy but as an extension of democracy into areas—such as production—that continue to be governed autocratically even under the most democratic bourgeois state, then the process of creating an alternative state apparatus in order to engage in armed struggle, or gaining control over the existing one through parliamentary politics, cannot be part of it.²

The idea of the development of the working class as a learning process was the basis of the activities of a small group of about ten of us who formed the Union Research Group in Bombay in 1980. Bombay was chosen as the arena of our activities because it is arguably the premier industrial metropolis of the country. The city compels attention with the sheer size and range of its industry and the colour and vitality of its labour movement. Bombay must undoubtedly be central to any study of contemporary trade unionism in India (Ramaswamy 1988, 17). The group emerged after the Hoechst Employees’ Union approached three researchers among us who were collecting data on collective agreements and asked for comparative information that would help them to formulate and argue for their charter of demands. Having compiled the information on pay in pharmaceutical companies for them, it occurred to us that the same information would be useful to other unions, so we put it together in the form of our first Bulletin of Trade Union Research and Information. Trade unions in India—even the large national federations—do not have research departments, and this puts them at a disadvantage when engaging in collective bargaining with employers. The purpose of the series of bulletins was to redress the balance by providing unions with information comparable to what was available to managements, and we succeeded so well that managements too started approaching us with requests for our bulletins!

We collected the information by moving from factory to factory and office to office, meeting union leaders and in some cases interviewing workers or visiting shop floors. We made our research available to all unions but found that it was mainly employees’ unions, which were free from domination by an external leadership, who made use of it, and this was the beginning of a close and long-standing association with them. Over the course of this, we were drawn into organizing workshops and discussions or participating in conferences organized by them on a wide range of issues that went far beyond those directly connected with collective bargaining, for example subcontracting and union rivalry. The Union Carbide India Limited Employees’ Union was one of the unions that subscribed to our bulletin and attended our discussions, so when the Bhopal disaster took place, we went at once to investigate and were appalled not only at the flouting of basic safety measures but also at the dreadful suffering of the victims of the disaster. We subsequently helped to create the Trade Union Relief Fund for the Bhopal gas victims, set up a relief program in Bhopal, and participated in the campaign to get justice for the survivors.

When some of the employees’ unions set up a coordination called the Trade Union Solidarity Committee in 1989, the Union Research Group became a nonvoting member of it: nonvoting because not being a union, we could not undertake to mobilize members or collect funds for the activities that were decided upon. But we could participate in the discussions and present our point of view, and we did so quite freely. There were many disagreements, not only between URG members and some of the unionists but also among the unionists and among URG members; I see this not as a weakness but as a strength. It meant that decisions took much longer to be made and that the TUSC could not act in the disciplined manner of party-affiliated union federations, but these drawbacks were an acceptable price to pay for freedom of debate and democratic decision making. In this account, as in TUSC discussions, I present my own point of view but also try to summarize the content of discussions as taken down in notes at numerous meetings.

Another major change occurred after the establishment of the WTO in 1995. The focus of URG research, which had up to then been local (although always with an awareness of developments in the international labor movement), became much more global in an attempt to work out a strategy to defend workers’ rights in a more globalized world economy.

Among the most serious crises we faced were the massacres of Muslims in Bombay in 1993 and in Gujarat in 2002, the latter carried out with the collusion of the BJP, which was in power in Gujarat and headed a coalition in the national parliament. The scapegoating of minorities, combined with an explicit hostility to unionized formal workers and attempts to change labor laws so as to take away rights that had been won in an earlier period, made us fear the worst. As a trade unionist in the TUSC remarked in 2002, if the BJP-led coalition retained power after the next general elections, the trade union movement would be wiped out for a long time to come. So for the next two years, we were occupied not only in trying to combat the ideology and politics that split the working class and even allowed some workers to endorse the killings but also in trying to ensure that a different government was returned to power.

Long-term research and activism provides a unique vantage point from which the agency of workers can clearly be seen: the fact that workers are the makers of their own history, albeit in circumstances not of their choosing. It is also the only satisfactory way to understand the context in which the labor movement takes shape. For example, for anyone who has not grown up in India (myself included, since I come from Sri Lanka), it is extremely difficult to understand the all-pervasive influence of caste in Indian society, including the labor movement, except over a long period of time. Second, it is always illuminating to know the ways in which important figures in the labor movement have been shaped by their own past. Sustained contact with them over a period of decades allows some of this history to be observed directly; glimpses of the rest can be obtained through interviews and informal conversations. Third, if the impact of globalization is being investigated, it is important to establish the conditions that prevailed prior to it: one cannot determine an impact unless one knows what existed before (Krishnaraj 2005, 3010). Finally, it is important for some enquiries into the effects of globalization on the global labor force to be anchored in an in-depth knowledge of a particular segment of it, so as