(PDF) The Making of CUPE: Structure, Democracy and Class Formation

THE draw OF CUPE : STRUCTURE, DEMOCRACY AND CLASS FORMATION STEPHANIE ROSS

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A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY calibrate PROGRAMME IN POLITICAL SCIENCE YORK university TORONTO, ONTARIO april 2005

THE make OF CUPE : STRUCTURE, DEMOCRACY AND CLASS FORMATION by

STEPHANIE ROSS

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v abstract This dissertation explores the nature and challenges

of democracy within unions through an historical

interrogation of the emergence and early years of the Canadian Union of Public Employees ( CUPE ). Formed by a amalgamation of two preexistent unions in

1963, CUPE casts new light on the Marxist, Michelsian

and Institutionalist theoretical approaches to union democ

racy. The thesis calls into question the narrow

and ahistorical link made between centralization,

oligarchy and effectiveness on the one hand, and

decentralization, democracy and ineffectiveness on the

other. Instead, the case of CUPE shows that

unions are subject to contradictory pressures and

that neither centralizat

ion nor decentralization is

inherently more democratic. Union democracy is separate of

an historical process of class formation, in which

both union purposes and the boundaries of the democratic

community (which can ma

ke legitimate claims

on members ’ solidarity and self-discip

line) are struggled over. As such, it is possible that decentralizing

forces can place narrow and sectionalist priorities over

the interests of the broader community. Moreover,

the thesis argues that the use of amalgamation as a method acting of forging greater

class unity is itself problematic.

The fusion which created CUPE involved a prolong struggle over which exemplar of union would prevail. The compromise which was reached entrenched a southeast

lf-reinforcing cycle of autonomy-seeking by union

locals which, over the long term, prevented the

development of an effective national union capable of

carrying out the democratic will of the membership as

a whole. As such, through an historical excavation of

the roots of contemporaneous crises in

CUPE, the thesis points to the im

portant way in which the outcomes of

past decisions come to structure future political

possibilities for unions and other social justice

organizations .
united states virgin islands dedication This thesis is dedicated to my father, John Ross.

A pipefitter and union member for most of his working

biography, he taught me more than he knows about the measure of

hard work and workers’ solidarity. Like so many

men of his generation, he spent his best energies work

ing for a better life for his child, and for that I am

everlastingly grateful. This thesis is par

tly the result of that better life, and

is therefore his achievement as well

as mine .
seven Acknowledgements A doctoral dissertation is thought of as an individual achiev

ement. Many hours are indeed spent

alone, facing the work and one

’s

own ambitions and fears. But like all such

endeavours, this dissertation was created in a social context of intellectual, political and

personal support, and for that many must be thanked. My supervisory committee, with whom I besides

took courses, made an enormous

contribution to my intellectual growth while at York

University. George Comninel, Graduate Director in my early y

ears in the Programme, provided

me with personal and institutional

subscribe at a time when I was distillery diffident whether I should be department of the interior

ng a Ph.D. Greg Albo skilfully helped navigate my immersion i

the trade coupling literature and kept me from

drowning in it. Leo Panitch, my supervisor, always expressed a boundless faith in

capacity to pull off this daunt visualize. That confidence wa

s at times dizzying, pointing to

apparently unachievable heights,

but

besides steadying, motivating me to work through the most difficu

lt times. I thank Leo not only

for an incredibly rigorous academi

prepare, but besides for modelling what it is to be a working-

class intellectual. His impact on the course of my life has been

boundlessly valuable to me. York University ’ south Graduate Programme in Political Science

provided a unique context in which to engage with debates about the

contemporary left, and the students and profe

ssors are amongst the most challengi

ng, sophisticated, and politically engaged

people I ’ ve touch. It was that rare cerebral community one

longs for in academia, against which I will measure all future

university experiences, and for that I am grateful. That community was besides extended to me at McMaster University ’ s Labour Studies Programme, where, while teaching, I wrote the last

several versions of the dissertation and received mentoring and

confirm. At both these institutions, I ’ d like to thank julian

Ammirante, Donna Baines, Marlea Clarke, Euan Gibb, Sam Gindin,

Deepika Grover, Peter Graefe, Shane Gunster, Steve and Judy

Hellman, Paula Hevia-Pacheco, Dann Hoxsey, Angela Joya,

Matina Karvellas, Geoff Kennedy, Samuel Knafo, Fuyuki

Kurasawa, Wayne Lewchuk, Roddy Loeppky, Marnie Lucas, Sara

Mayo, Di Paprica, Ginette Peters, Dennis Pilon, Chris R

oberts, John Saul, Mark Thomas

, Leandro Vergara-Camus, Sam

Vrankulj, Don Wells, Charlotte Yates, Noah Zerbe, all who m

ade real contributions to my

growth as a scholar and person.

At both York and McMaster University, Marlene Quesenberry and

Delia Hutchinson each provided

crucial support and resources,

and represent the way that administrative staff are the spinal column of the university. I thank metric ton

hem both warmly and unreservedly.

In the path of both union activism and research, I came in

to contact with many in CUPE whose experience and insight were

very important to me, and whose desire to

see CUPE’s history written down kept me goi

ng. In particular, thanks go to Gay Bell,

Fred Hahn, Helen Kennedy, David Kidd, Mary Catherine McCarthy

, and Steve Seaborn. As well, without the support of Morna

Ballantyne and Jane Stinson, and particularly Gil Levine, in helping me gain access to CUPE ’ mho documents in the National Archives of Canada, this dissertation could

never have been written, and I am appreciative.

Doctorates are personal journeys as we

ll, testing endurance and self-esteem. I have luckily always been surrounded by loving

friends and syndicate, who in countless ways gave me the inner force to continue. Pam Scholey and Michael Aylward ’ sulfur friendship has nourished me profoundly through thursday

is long process. Ernie Hrynyshyn

and Else Thorst, Maggie and Hugh-Derrick

Hiscocks have welcomed me into their syndicate and treated me

as their daughter. My own parents, Denise and John Ross,

sacrificed much to make this dissertation potential. T

heir unconditional love is my touchstone, and I thank them.

finally, thanks go to my collaborator, Derek Hrynyshyn. We me

t as graduate students and union activists, and the values and goals

we share sustain me. He has seen me through the entire proc

ess of researching and writing with great patience, wisdom, and

loving care. I am a better person with him in my

life, and for that I am profoundly grateful.

eight postpone of Contents abstract commitment Acknowledgements tilt of Abbreviations insertion : I. A narrative of Two Conventions II. Why CUPE ? The importance of Public Sector Unionism III. Why Public Sector Unionism ? New U

nderstandings of Democracy, Structure and

class formation IV. The structure of the argument V. Note on Method and Sources chapter 1 : Rethinking Union Democracy I : The Role of Leaders and Members I. The Union Democracy Literature : Lots of

Answers, but to the Right Questions?

II. Union democracy : subject to Definition ? III. Leaders : Representatives of the Workers ? IV. Members : The Font of Democracy ? V.

Conclusion: The Contradictory Pressures on Leaders and Members

chapter 2 : Rethinking Union Democracy

II: Union Functions, Structures and Class

constitution I. The Structuring Effects of Union Functions II. Union Structures : Built for democracy ? III. majority rule for Whom ? Defining and Creating the democratic Community IV. Conclusions chapter 3 : Contextualizing the Origins

of Canadian Public Sector Unionism

I. Canada ’ s ‘ Urban Boom ’ and the Emer

gence of Municipal Employment

II. municipal Workers in a Divided Labour Movement III. World War One and the Emergence of Municipal and Hydro Unionism IV. Depression, War, and the Evoluti

on of the Canadian Public Sector, 1929-1945

V. conclusion : The Ambivalent Ident

ities of Public Sector Workers

chapter 4 : The Emergence of National Unions in the canadian Public Sector I. The Post-War context : State, Law, and the Labour movement II. From CETU to NUPSE : The Dream of Expansion III. Courting the OHEU : autonomy comes to NUPSE IV. Locals Create a National Union : NUPE ’ s Municipal Unions and Local Autonomy page four vanadium six ten 1 1 6 9 13 17 21 21 26 39 45 49 57 57 67 77 83 87 89 103 107 129 139 142 145 152 164 170
nine V. ending : NUPSE and NUPE on the Eve of the Merger chapter 5 : The Merger Process and Union Democracy I : The Initial Blockages, 1956-1959 I. first Steps and Opening Positions : The foremost year of Merger Talks, 1956-57 II. jurisdictional Battles : Organizing

Hospital and Provincial Workers

III. OHEU and the Entrenchment of Autonomy IV. conclusion chapter 6 : The Merger Process and Union Democracy II : Establishing CUPE, 1960-1963 I. NUPE Does Some Soul Searching II. Shots Across the Bow : The Merger Talks of 1960-1962 III. Into the Home reach : 1962-1963 IV. Concluding the fusion : The 1963 CUPE Convention chapter 7 : The Limits and Contradictions

of CUPE Democracy I: Consolidating the

amalgamation, 1963-1967 I. “ A Dozen Praying Mantises ” : National Office Factionalism and Local Discontent, 1963-1965 II. Holding It All together : The 1965 conventionality III. exit Rintoul, Enter Hartman IV. conclusion chapter 8 : The Limits and Contradict

ions of CUPE Democracy II: The 1967 and 1969

Conventions I. Preparing for a Showdown II. CUPE ’ s ‘ Test of Fire ’ : The 1967 Convention and its consequence III. A Union or a Federation ? The National Defence Fund and Renewed Tensions over centralization, 1967-1969 IV. The 1969 convention : growth, Profe

ssionalization and Democratic Backlash

II. conclusion chapter 9 : Can the Union Make Us Str

ong? The Contradictions of Growth, 1969-1975

I. Servicing Union or Organizing Union ? II. “ Expecting the Per Capita to Perform

Miracles”: The Dilemmas of Balancing

Organizing and Servicing III. Feminizing CUPE : gender Challenges to Identity and Structure IV. The Problem of Democracy : Accountab

ility and Participation in a Growing Union

V. Financing Militancy : strike Waves,

Fight Backs, and the National Defence Fund

VI. New Members, New Structures, New I

dentities: Rethinking the Balance Between

local and Centre VII. stopping point : CUPE : Equipped to Face the Future ?

conclusion

I. Understanding CUPE II. Understanding Union Democracy, Uni

on Structure, and Class Formation

182 185 187 205 216 235 237 240 248 265 280 285 289 302 309 323 326 328 337 351 360 371 374 376 379 390 397 403 406 420 423 423 432
ten III. Understanding the political Implications bibliography 437 440
eleven list of Abbreviations AFL

american Federation of Labor ARTEC

Association of Radio and Television Employees of Canada BSEIU

Building Service Employees International Union CETU

Canadian Electrical Trade Union CCF

Cooperative Commonwealth Federation CCL

Canadian Congress of Labour CCS

Council of Chief Stewards CFCE

Canadian Federation of Civic Employees CFL

Canadian Federation of Labour CIO

Committee / Congress of Industrial Organizations CMA

Canadian Manufacturers ’ Association CPC

Communist Party of Canada ERP

Employee Representation Plan ( Ont

ario Hydro-Electric Power Commission)

GVP

General Vice-President HEPC

Ontario Hydro-Electric Power Commission BCHEU or HEU

British Columbia Hospital Employees ’ Union IBEW

International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers IDIA

Industrial Disputes Investigation Act IWW

Industrial Workers of the World JCC

Joint Consultation Committee LPP

Labour Progressive Party NDF

National Defence Fund NEB

National Executive Board NEC

National Executive Committee NOCUEW

National Organization of Civi

c, Utility and Electrical Workers

NUPE

National Union of Public Employees NUPSE

National Union of Public Service Employees OBU

One Big Union OCHU

Ontario Council of Hospital Unions OHEA or EA

Ontario Hydro Employees Association OHEU

Ontario Hydro Employees Union PSOC

Public Service Organizing Committee PUC

Public Utilities Council ( Toronto ) RVP

Regional Vice-President SPD

Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands

/ Social Democratic Party of Germany

SWOC

Steelworkers ’ Organizing Committee

TLC

Trades and Labor Congress of Canada UAW

United Auto Workers USCS

Union of Saskatchewan Civil Servants VCEU

Vancouver Civic Employees Union
1 introduction I.

A Tale of Two Conventions

On the weekend of September 24, 1963, the Fo

rt Garry Hotel in Winnipeg was pervaded by a

palpable sense of history being made. Delegates a

ttending the founding convention of the Canadian Union

of Public Employees felt that what they were to decide over the next three days would forever transform the canadian labour campaign. Everything that surrounded

them pointed to this conclusion. Huge placards

and banners proclaimed that CUPE was to be ‘ one big

union’ representing an enormous array of public

sector workers. fraternal delegates from around the worl

d were present to witness the birth of a significant

new organization, the solution of what was hailed as deoxythymidine monophosphate

he first major post-war union merger in North America of

any significance. The speeches were steeped in the terminology of advancement and might, reflecting expectations of what would come through union of

the country’s two rival public sector unions, the

National Union of Public Employees ( NUPE ) and

the National Union of Public Service Employees

( NUPSE ), who had put aside sectionalism in the serv

ice of a broader vision of public sector workers’

interests. The choice of placement was no accident ei

ther. Winnipeg, the scene of

one of the most dramatic

events in canadian labor history and crucial in the development of municipal unionism, was a potent symbol of worker combativeness, one, and solidarity. T

he leaders of the new CUPE hoped that deliberating in a

place of such significance would aid in fosteri

ng a common identity amongst workers from disparate

occupational groups, who had built different coupling cultures and disconnected organizations, and who remained divided on their attitudes regarding lambert

abour-management relations and the type and role of

leadership and membership participati

on appropriate to the post-war era.

such ceremony at the founding consequence in an organi

zation’s history is not atypical, but in CUPE’s

encase it was possibly more necessity than usual. Given the astuteness and telescope of the differences between the two rear organizations, it was not a waive stopping point that the amalgamation would hold. An appreciation
2 of how flimsy the amalgamation was in 1963 can be gleaned from

how difficult it was to produce. The seven

years of negotiations were painstakingly slow and

often acrimonious, and had ground to halt on several

occasions between 1956 and 1963. The discussions were fraught with misinterpretation, intuition and shroud agendas. bankruptcy remained a possibility as delegates

were to vote on whether to accept the merger

agreement, with no possibility of amendment. several

important groups threatened to – and did – walk out

of the convention and the new marriage if the fusion

agreement could not be changed to accommodate their

needs. This discontent was merely the dramatic and

visible manifestation of a simmering dissatisfaction

with a amalgamation that seemed besides centralizing for thus

me, too decentralist for others, and that left open the

interview of precisely how compete visions of majority rule and potency would be balanced. For the architects of the fusion, it could not have been obv

ious that CUPE would eventually become the largest

coupling in Canada, and one of the most powerful, progr

essive and militant organizations of the Canadian

labor movement. I knew nothing of this history, of the fractious

basis of CUPE’s birth, when I attended my first CUPE

National Convention, held in Toronto in 1997. After five

years as an activist in the Ontario university sector,

and much like the delegates in 1963, I was intoxicated

with the potential of workers’ collective action and

thrilled to engage in an exert of multitude participator

y democracy. With over 2000 other local delegates

from across Canada in attendance, who shared my

commitment to unionism, I was overwhelmed and

proud, particularly when Bob White referred in his south

peech to a demonstration against cuts to unemployment

insurance in my home town in northerly New Brunswick. Another source of pride was my impression that CU

PE, unlike many other unions in North America,

afforded much quad for local enterprise, participati

on, and ultimate control by members via a democratic

commitment to local autonomy. For the most part, my

initial experiences in the teaching assistants’ Local

2323 at Carleton University confirm

ed these impressions: while national staff representatives assigned to

3 us advised a cautious dicker strategy, the local anesthetic was free to embark on a autonomous and unprecedented mobilization around what was, for the

early 1990s, a fairly radical bargaining agenda tying

wage increases to tuition increases. The National may

not have approved, but they did not indicate either a

desire or capacity to interfere with the local ’ s

internal decision-making process. Local autonomy,

understood as democratic control by the membership, wa

s to be respected. My warm feelings for CUPE

remained intact and were reinforced during my partici

pation in a training session for ‘member-organizers’,

in which we were explicitly instructed that CU

PE’s commitment to local autonomy was its ‘competitive

advantage ’ in organizing the unorganized. The National O

ffice, we as CUPE boosters were to proclaim to

prospective members, doesn ’ thyroxine tell anyone what to do,

since “we are not like Steel”. Nothing in my

feel in the union had yet led me to question these claims. Events at the 1997 National Convention disturbed

the assumptions I had internalized about the

democratic superiority of decentralized structures. It

became clear to me that the equation of localism with

democracy was debatable for many. Two notions of

democracy emerged in a conflict over raising the per

caput dues payment to the National, a conflict which, I was subsequently to learn, had been much rehearsed over the years. Those who advocated an increase in per

capita argued that the National Office would be

incapable of fulfilling the mandate democratically allocat

ed to it by the delegates without greater financial

resources. This miss of funds had dangerous implicati

ons for those newer, smaller, or more vulnerable locals

in especial, as they lacked the local resources to

carry out effective economic and political action and were

consequently more dependant on the National for suppor

t and services. These arguments struck me as

perfectly consistent with a notion of redistributiv

e democracy, or to quote Marx, “from each according to

their abilities, to each according to their needs. ”

For the most part, however, such appeals fell on the deaf

ears of an influential minority who maintained that any

attempt to centralize resources for whatever purpose

was to interfere with the autonomy and persuasiveness of loca

ls, and to risk “losing the money” in the labyrinth of

4 1

The original proposal was to increase per

capita from 0.7% of wages to 0.9%. The first vote was 1194 in favour, 718 opposed;

with only 62.4 % of the delegates assenting, the count was refe

rred back to the Constitution Committee. The proposal returned

with per head to be set at 0.85 % of wages, which passed

with 67.6% of the vote. The support of Local 1000, a strong

advocate of local autonomy, was pivotal : John Murphy, triiodothyronine

he local’s president, who had hotly argued against the original

increase, gave his local ’ mho accept to the lower measure. Ho

wever, the debate’s outcome was to have no impact on Local 1000

itself–its per head level has always been set by target

negotiation with the National, and not by National Convention.

an unaccountable bureaucracy. interestingly, this oppos

ition to centralization emanated from more self-

sufficient sections of the union, whose membersh

ip numbers and wage levels were able to support a

relatively effective local unionism for their members.

By preventing the attainment of the two-thirds majority

needed to make a constitutional change, this minority wa

s ultimately able to reduce the amount of (but not

stop wholly ) the per caput increase.

In the wake of this decision, and after hotly resisting the increase,

the Quebec delegating caucused to discuss whether it w

ould remain in CUPE, and the threat of a split hung

over the union. A second controversy at the 1997 Convention reveal

ed other differences not only over the meaning

of union democracy, but besides the institutional loca

tion of its defenders. Debates over whether CUPE’s

decision-making structures accurately represented the interests of a divers membership, and in particular of groups historically discriminated against, were comi

ng to a head. These concerns took the form of a

proposed built-in amendment to designate two s

eats on the National Executive Board, one for an

aboriginal Vice-President and another for a Visibl

e Minority Vice-President. Proponents, amongst whom

were big members of the home leadership and staff, argued that democracy required direct representation of distinct interests by mem

bers of underrepresented groups

themselves. Opponents,

including provincial leaders from the Maritimes and

leaders of large locals particularly defensive of

autonomy, argued that such measures

would violate norms of meritocra

cy. It struck me as particularly

ironic that those local leaders, who had earlier in the workweek positioned themselves as the guardians of majority rule, immediately vehemently opposed measures which woul

d, in some way at least, better reflect the

5 diversity of interests in the marriage, while the ‘ pitile

ss centralists’, national leaders, were fighting to expand

access to the highest levels of the union. Despite

the backing of powerful leader

s, the amendment failed to

get the needed two-thirds majority adenine well. Both these conventions partake a common storyline.

In each, a large, powerful minority made claims

rooted in a narrow-minded understand of the democratic consti

tuency to which they are accountable, in order to

stop to some extent decisions which would satisf

y the democratic will of a much larger community of

workers. In that sense, the 1963 Convention pref

igured the key political question to reappear in every

subsequent CUPE meet. The ever-present issue of wh

ich level of the union’s structure is most effective

and best expresses the democratic will of public southeast

ctor workers had been embedded in the substratum of

every conventionality debate, policy decision, or corporate

action. From its inception, CUPE’s structure has

been based on the principle that locals have ultimate c

ontrol over their own affairs, and that the power of

more central levels of the unions should be limited

to an absolute minimum. CUPE’s debates therefore

constantly pass through the prism of organizational exponent

– who has it, who doesn’t, who should and should

not. indeed, how a particular policy will affect the

relative distribution of power within CUPE – and in

particular the autonomy of locals – is a central criteri

on of decision-making in the union. Since a high level

of decentralization is equated with majority rule in CUPE, po

licies which involve centralization of any kind are

regarded with suspicion. While such debates are

not unique to CUPE, in few other unions are policy

questions so frequently determined by structural considerations. Whatever the cosmopolitan merits of the idea that

decentralization permits members to have direct

command over their immediate leaders and participate in decision-making, several things about the practice of union democracy became net to me in the run

of that week in 1997. First, a commitment to

decentralized structure could be sectionalist and frankincense more concern with protecting the relative prerogative of the few against the many than with preserve or

expanding ‘democratic control’. Second, one’s support

6 for ‘ democracy ’ could not plainly be read off one ’ s placement within the union structure. finally, there was more than one means to understand what constituted an ‘ effective ’ and ‘ democratic ’ union. With these counterfactuals in bridge player, I began to

explore the nature of union democracy and its

relationship to structure and to union potency at a

more theoretical level. My questions proliferated.

local anesthetic autonomy was surely a constraint on

the central leadership, but was it always a

democratic

constraint ? Was it truly the sheath that decent

ralized unions like CUPE were more ‘democratic’ than

relatively centralized ones ? Were ‘ effective ’ unions doomed to develop centralized, bureaucratic, and consequently undemocratic tendencies, and

decentralized, ‘democratic’ unions fated to be ineffective? Did

leaders inescapably act to maintain these oligarchies

against the interests of the members? Were these

members truly the repository of democracy, molarity

ilitancy, and progressiveness? What did democracy and

potency actually mean in a union context, anyhow ?

Was there some kind of transcendent criteria that

could be used to determine whether a union was democrati

c or effective, and if there was, would it be of

any virtual manipulation ? II. Why CUPE ? The importance of Public Sector Unionism I decided to pursue a detail examination of CU

PE’s origins in order to determine how the union

had developed both its social organization and cultural assumptions about the associate between decentralization and democracy. This seemed an important project for bot

h historical and theoretical reasons. First, public

sector unions like CUPE transformed the landscape of thymine

he labour movements in their respective countries.

In many respects, populace sector unions over the past

30 years have been at the centre of a politics that had

made the Canadian labour campaign active and progre

ssive. The dramatic growth of union membership

in public employment has kept union concentration far above the

levels it would be at if the movement’s centre of

gravity had remained in secret puerto rico

imary and secondary manufacturing. As such, public sector unionism,

7 2

Robert Laxer,

Canada’s Unions

(Toronto: James Lorimer and Company, 1976).

peculiarly in Canada, has helped labour movements stave off institutional collapse and maintain a meaning measure of social burden. second, the membership of public sector unions re

flects the large-scale feminization of the labour

military unit which occurred during the 1960s and 70s. As a result, they have provided thousands of women with their first major and sustained have of unionism and have become significant advocates for feminist and equity struggles in the workplace, political mho

phere, and the personal / cultural realm. CUPE in

particular was early on on a leader in the development

of a collective bargaining and legislative agenda aimed

at addressing the interests of women workers, and washington

s notable for its election in 1975 of Grace Hartman as

the first female president of a union on the north american continent. CUPE frankincense may have something authoritative to say about the processes by which the

“new working class” emerged and forged a collective

identity and feel of common interests, and about the ways in which unions can transform themselves to accommodate both oneness and deviation within their memberships. Third, in shifting the center of the canadian lambert

abour movement away from US-based international

unions, CUPE was cardinal to the emergence of a wave

of progressive, left nationalism in the 1970s which

put forward a democratic socialistic case for domesti

c control of both capital and the labour movement.

CUPE in particular was involved in struggles within the Canadian Labour Congress to impose significant guarantees of autonomy for canadian sect

ions of international unions.

As CUPE’s size and proportion of

organized workers grew, its advocacy within the CLC as a voice for mugwump canadian unionism leave subscribe for those wishing to escape the central control of internationals and prosecute strategies which addressed the needs of canadian workers. last, and linked to what distinguishes canadian

from US unionism, CUPE, like many other public

sector unions, has been all-important to the support and extens

ion of social unionism, in which unions struggle

8 3

Sam Gindin,

The Canadian Auto Workers: The Birth and Transformation of a Union

(Toronto: James Lorimer & Company

Publishers, 1995 ), 266 ; Ian Robinson, “ E

conomistic Unionism in Crisis: The

Origins, Consequences, and Prospects of

divergence in Labour-Movement

Characteristics,” in

The Challenge of Restructuring:

North American Labor Movements

Respond

, eds. J. Jenson and R. Mahon (Philadelphia: Temple U P, 1993), 21.

Robinson, 28-33.

Paul Johnston,

Success While Others Fail : Social Movement Unionism and the Public Workplace

(Ithaca, NY: ILR Press,

1994 ), 31, 40-1 ; Robinson, 32. 6

Robinson, 31-2.

Stephen Tufts, “Community Unionism in

Canada and Labor’s (Re)Organi

zation of Space,”

Antipode

30, no. 3 (1998): 228.

for the interests not only of their contiguous

membership but also the broader working class.

Ian Robinson

attributes the sustenance of social unionism in depart

to Canadian workers’ more active and lengthy struggle

for institutionalized labor rights during the Second Worl

d War, but also to the more important and dynamic

character played by populace sector unionism in Canada.

Indeed, from the 1960s on, social unionism has become

particularly associated with public sector unions, as their “ economistic ” collective dicker interests are inherently tied to public policy debates and consequently roentgen

equire political mobilization and coalition-building

around visions of what the state should do for the populace,

in ways that those of private sector unions do not.

The massive growth of canadian public sector unions

since the 1960s and 70s led to a “shift [in] the

libra of power from international to national unions

”, from private-sector to public-sector unions, and can

therefore explain why social unionism is now considered

to be a core value of the Canadian labour movement.

On the basis of this orientation course, CUPE has been a l

eader in the practice of community unionism, which

Steven Tufts defines as “ the formation of coalit

ions between unions and non-labor groups in order to

achieve common goals. ”

In particular, CUPE has conducted not

able campaigns against the privatization

of populace services, the proliferat

ion of free trade agreements which place public services in jeopardy, and in

support of protection and elongation of health wish, childcare, yield and employment equity, same-sex rights, international solidarity and anti-globalization struggles. These strategies adopted by CUPE are not only
9 8

Robinson, 36; Kim Moody,

Workers in a Lean World: Unions in the International Economy

(New York: Verso, 1997) ; Bruce

Nissen, “ Alternative Strategic Directions for deoxythymidine monophosphate

he U.S. Labor Movement: Recent Scholarship,”

Labor Studies Journal

28, no. 1

( spring 2003 ) : 133-155. 9

Craig Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement: A Short History

(Toronto: James Lorimer and

Co., 1996), 94-98; Bryan Palmer,

wage-earning have : Rethinki

ng the History of Canadian Labour, 1800-1991

(Toronto: McLelland and Stewart, 1992), 320-

323 ; Desmond Morton,

Working People: An Illustrated History of the Canadian Labour Movement

, rev. ed. (Montreal: McGill-

queen ’ south University Press, 1998 ), 255-264. 10

Susan Crean,

Grace Hartman : A Woman for Her Time

(Vancouver: New Star Books, 1995); Patrick Lenihan,

Patrick Lenihan:

From irish Rebel to Founder of Canadian Public Sector Unionism,

ed. G.Levine (St John’s: Canadian Committee on Labour

History / Memorial University, 1998 ) ; John “ Lofty ” MacMillan,

The Boy from Port Hood: The Autobiography of John Francis “Lofty”

MacMillan

, with E. Hyslop and P. McGahan (Fredericton,

NB: New Ireland Press, 1996); Jim Pringle,

United We Stand: A History

of Winnipeg ’ s Civic Workers

(Winnipeg: Manitoba Labour Education Centre, 1991); Ed Thomas,

The Crest of the Mountain: The

resurrect of CUPE Local Five in Hamilton

(Hamilton: CUPE Local 5, n.d); Jerry White,

Hospital Strike: Women, Unions, and Public

Sector Conflict

(Toronto: Thompson Educational

Publishing, 1990); John Deverell, “The Ontario Hospital Dispute 1980-1981,”

Studies in political Economy

9 (1982): 179-190.

See my

Note on Methods and Sources

below.

widely held to be more effective than the traditional “ service model ” of unionism, but besides the only kind of unionism capable of countering the effects of neoli

beral globalization on workers and their communities.

Given the crucial contribution that CUPE has t

herefore made to the course of the Canadian labour

motion, not to mention its electric potential future, it is

surprising to find that nearly no academic work had been

conducted on the subject. Surveys of Canadian labour

history, though admitting the central role of public

sector unions, dedicate a very small part of their

pages to the subject of their origins, structures,

practices and distinct set about to unionism.

A few biographies of former leaders and staff, some local

union histories, and a few analyses of a peculiarly im

portant strike constitute the sum total of the

secondary literature on CUPE.

As such, a thorough excavation of CUPE’s origins and internal dynamics

would have to be undertaken from rub.

III. Why Public Sector Unionism ? New Understandings

of Democracy, Structure and Class Formation

Studying CUPE besides provides an opportunity to ex

plore some of the major theoretical questions

associated with the practice of unionism and its likely to provide a progressive and democratic footing for the expression of workers ’ interests. In particula

r, by exploring whether public sector unions like CUPE

have avoided the problems which plagued traditional industrial unions in the 20

century, namely the

10 12

Gary Chaison,

Union Mergers in Hard Times:

The View from Five Countries

(Ithaca / London: ILR Press / Cornell University

imperativeness, 1996 ). seeming contradiction between democracy and effectiv

eness, new light can be shed on the issue of union

democracy and its relation back to classify identity and solidarity.

This study explores this question by uncovering

and analysing the history of the take of CUPE. not to be ignored in CUPE ’ s story, and part of what it can add to our reason of union democracy, is the cardinal importanc

e of merger in its formation.

The merger process created a unique

conjuncture which reveals the key issues – usua

lly unstated assumptions – regarding the nature of

majority rule, bureaucracy, and leadership in the worki

ng class and its organizations. As well, examining

the consequence of CUPE ’ s amalgamation process allows us

to explore what kind of union a merger produces,

particularly in terms of the particular way that dem

ocracy and effectiveness are operationalized. Examining

this work is not merely of historical intere

st: it is central to understanding the possibilities and

implications of a key survival and growth scheme

now being used by unions around the world to respond to

membership worsen, maintain institutional viability and cope with the ever-increasing exponent of employers.

By examining how CUPE was marked by its own amalgamation

process, especially in terms of its impact on

internal office relations, identities, notions of comm

unity and mutual obligation, we may be able to evaluate

better the costs and benefits of fusion as

a contemporary union renewal strategy.

personal power considerations unquestionably info

rmed the merger negotiation process, and can

explain to some extent why certain individuals were

so attached to particular visions of the new union.

however, an exclusive focus on the personal ambitions of leaders serves to mask the more fundamental morphologic and cultural differences between NU

PSE and NUPE as a whole. Leaders wanted power for

reasons beyond personal aggrandizement or

mobility: they wanted to be in a position to bring to life the

kind of union they believed public sector workers needed.

Differences over union purpose and function, the

kind of union structure required to serve these pur

poses, ‘good’ leadership, and the appropriate place and

11 system of weights of the membership in decision-making were all

at play in the discussions. Viewed in this light, the

frequently agonizing and fiddling disputes over constitutional

provisions, the relative weight of representation,

per head levels and the types and numbers of appointed

staff are not mere technical details; rather, they

are political debates over the manner in which especial exponent relations should be institutionalized. In other words, the result of the fusion negotia

tions and fights over constitutional documents are

crystallizations of power, of a especial imagination of

the union’s identity, purpos

e, structure and internal

relationships, reflecting the relative weight of versatile

forces within the union at a given moment in time.

furthermore, these decisions were an crucial organizational moment in class geological formation, and indicate the framework within which public sector unionism has evolved. The union created by NUPE and NUPSE was marked by

the structures and practices of each

harbinger a well as the particular method used in its

formation. CUPE was a synthesis of two conflicting

visions of union purpose and structure. On the

one hand, leaders were able to construct a consensus

around the need for a potent central union with both

administrative and political power, and extensive

numbers of expert staff. On the other hand, the endur

ing strength of particularist local, regional and

sectoral identities within both unions meant that thyroxine

he political compromise needed to effect merger had to

entail the institutionalization of silicon

gnificant autonomy for local unions. This autonomy took the form of low

per head, the continued consumption of locally employed serv

icing staff, and voluntary membership in intermediate

union bodies, all of which placed constraints on the growth

of the national union’s servicing capacity, control

over locals, and ability to enforce its policies even when they had been demanded by the membership. The twin of a highly centralist imagination of the union and a structure which decentralized and fragmented political power produced a union load with negate

ory pressures and blocked full expression of either

logic. The first ten years of CUPE ’ sulfur being would t

hus be characterized by protracted internal battles for

laterality of one of these two models. however,

the outcome of these battles would always be

12 inconclusive, never overcoming the original fusion

compromise and resulting in a structure which could

provide neither the benefits of

centralization nor the democracy

promised by decentralization.

In that sense, CUPE demonstrates that the debat

e in the union as well as in the literature

mistakenly polarizes the relationship betw

een democracy and decentralization on the one hand, and

centralization and potency on the other. The degree centigrade

ounterposition of democracy versus effectiveness –

and the geomorphologic frameworks underst

ood to produce them – denies the way in which both interpenetrate

each early. ‘ Democracy ’ based on decentralize structures

may

allow for substantial membership

engagement and leadership accountability ; however, if

these structures are unable to carry out the

democratic will of the members, they are in important ways insufficiently democratic. On the other hand, the ‘ substitution ’ of leaders for the members ’ partici

pation can be insufficiently effective as well. The

engagement of members can be crucial in the process of meeting union objectives ( this has become particularly obvious since the collapse of the post-

war compromise); if the capacity to participate has

atrophied to such an extent that the union can not be defended or its objectives fought for, then centralization is limited in its potency. If, in the context of the fusion discussions, CUPE ’ s leaders and members had explored options which sought to comb

ine both more centralized forms of coordination

and broader collective identities with more substantive democratic processes, the union may have been able to create a structure which was both democratic and effective in meaningful ways. however, because understandings of democracy and effectiveness we

re so polarized around decentralization and

centralization, no such middle ground was always

explored and CUPE ended up being neither particularly

democratic nor effective .
13 IV. The social organization of the controversy Chapters 1 and 2 set out the major theoretical

perspectives on the issue of union democracy, and

explores its mean, supporting conditions and undermi

ning factors. In particular, I examine the

assumptions underlying Marxist, Michelsian and Institutionalist approaches. First, I argue that understandings of majority rule are rarely separate fr

om definitions of union functions and hence union

potency ; as such, it is significant to be sensit

ive to the interplay of means and ends both in theory and

in the notice of actual union processes. Se

cond, I point out that while unions may experience

knock-down tendencies towards oligarchy, these tendencie

s are not inevitable nor inherently vested in the

essential characteristics of either

leaders or members. Instead, ther

e are contradictory tendencies towards

both majority rule and oligarchy, which get worked out in

the process of concrete struggles and not always in

clear-cut ways. Third, I argue that union democra

cy and class formation should be understood as aspects

of the same historical work, and I attempt to

show how struggles over the question of democracy in

unions are actually a expression of the march of

defining the community with which one shares common

interests. ultimately, I show how the particular met

hod of class formation – in this case organizational

union through the procedure of fusion – has majo

r implications for the way that union democracy and

effectiveness are institutionalized. In Chapter 3, I contextualize the origins of C

anadian public sector unionism as it emerged at the

local charge in the early 20

century. In particular, the contours

of municipal employee class consciousness

and unionism were shaped by the complex interaction

of municipal employers’ structures, on the one hand,

and ideological and political debates within the labor

movement about the appropriate model of unionism

on the early. The disconnected nature and

paternalistic strategies of public employers in this period served

to construct municipal workers ’ identities, intere

sts and organizations in narrow ways, often reinforced by

the dominance of a craft exemplary of unionism in equality

ticular areas. However, processes of employer

14 rationalization and bureaucratization, along with the infl

uence of industrial or nationalist forms of unionism,

did produce amongst some elements a broader consci

ousness of workers’ interests and a desire to

construct organizational forms that would express tho

e interests. Public employees in general emerged

from this period with ambivalent class identities,

but coalescing around two major visions of union purpose,

structure, and internal democracy. chapter 4 explores in detail thymine

he nature of these two major alignments as they further developed

and were expressed in institutional form thr

ough the 1950s. Although all municipal workers faced

centralize and professionalize pressures emanati

ng from both the state and

the north american labor bowel movement, unlike groups ’ responses to such pressu

res were mediated by the traditions and visions set

up in the former time period. In cosmopolitan, populace

sector workers converged around a centralized and

decentralized vision of unionism, each characterised by

distinct methods of integration, types and

expectations of leaders, and understandings of the ro

le of members in deciding and acting on their

interests. The organizational expressions of these two

visions were the National Union of Public Service

Employees and the National Union of Public Employ

ees respectively. Although each experienced internal

debates over what constituted effective unionism

and what relationship between leaders and members

would best allow for that, a detail sight was hegemonic within each union. however, important contradictions within the processes of fusion used

by each served to place limits on the extent of class

formation and the rehearse of democracy at the center, and

would later result in major conflicts over identity,

functions, structures and inner democracy when thymine

he two organizations undertook to merge in the mid-

1950s. chapter 5 charts the beginnings of that amalgamation process, and explores the major barriers encountered in combining two different structures

and visions of democracy within one organization. In

particular, and through the tangle of details about procedur

es, jurisdictions, the definition and distribution of

15 leadership positions, I show how two competing understandi

ngs of democracy were in fact at issue. The

foremost conception was broad and based on whether the subs

tantive outcomes of a process met the interests

of a broadly-defined community of public sector

workers. This was opposed by a more narrow and

proceduralist understand in which

the representation of pre-exis

ting identities defined whether an result was democratic. Since these views

were present within both NUPSE and NUPE, each had

factions which worked to block the development of me

rger terms that would satisfy the claims of broader

democratic constituencies at the expense of more narrowly form ones. Each union was consequently required to renegotiate with its major home facti

ons the basis of unity, the relationship between local and

center, the balance between finical and general interests

in order to be suitable to the other as a merger

partner. In this chapter, the focus is on NUPSE ’ s

negotiations with the major proponent of local autonomy

within its midst, the Ontario Hydro Employees Un

ion. Although the basis of autonomy-seeking in NUPSE

was never eliminated, it was contained sufficiently to make for a relatively centralize and mix union. NUPE ’ s attempts to make itself acceptable to

NUPSE as well as deal with the pressures for

professionalization and serve in the context of a

very decentralized union form the main substance of

chapter 6. here, the contradictions between t

he membership’s desire for more services and its

unwillingness to provide greater fiscal and political res

ources to the centre worked to construct a self-

reinforcing hertz of autonomy. The traditions of autonom

y placed limits on the extent of centralization and

worked to build up other levels of the union as the

source of both servicing and claims for democratic

autonomy. NUPE ’ second failure to unify sufficiently at the cytosine

entral level forced it to make compromises over who

would lead the newfangled union in order to achieve broader

class unity in the public sector. However, the

continue resistance of autonomist forces within bot

h unions resulted in a centralist leader from NUPSE

being placed at the forefront of a profoundly decentra

lized organization in the tradition of NUPE.

16 consequently, a coupling premised upon aggressive expans

ion and central professionalized servicing

possessed a structure which reinforced localism. chapter 7 explores the immediate implications of

this contradictory outcome, and looks at how the

unsolved issues of the amalgamation continued to be st

ruggled over within the newly formed Canadian Union of

public Employees. here we see how a complex interaction of factionalism and decentralization both blocked significant accumulation of power at the centre, but besides produced undemocratic dynamics based on the hope to ‘ absolve ’ central leaders from the in

fluence of powerful locals who retained control over

membership dues. Although greater centralization in some

areas did proceed in the first four years of the

union, this did not importantly alter the narro

w understandings of democracy rooted in local unionism.

The consequence of factional disputes and metric ton

he manner in which the union was subsequently

consolidated is cover with in chapter 8. hera, I di

scuss the long-term formative impact that the bitterly

contested election of 1967 had on the practice of

democracy in CUPE. Rather than permitting the

circulation of elites, factionalism set off an all-out washington

r for control in which the norms of democratic practice

were ignored. This reinforce locals ’ suspicions of

the central leadership, entrenched their association of

local autonomy with majority rule, and made them reluct

ant to permit further centralization. Locals’

cover obstruction of centralization fostered a drawing card

ship view that they had to work to release

themselves from the constraints of membership over

sight so as to serve the interests of public sector

workers by rights. The outcomes of these renewed battles over centralization versus decentralization further entrenched the cycle of autonomy

and made it very difficult for CUPE to cope with the implications

of continue growth, changing membership demographi

cs and occupational identities, changing employer

structures and strategies, and the necessitate for combativeness. chapter 9 discusses in contingent how CUPE ’ s consoli

dation of the union on the basis of a narrow and

autonomist understand of democracy made it difficult to face the challenges of emergence, servicing ,
17 organizing, integration of modern members, deepeni

ng democratic accountability and participation, and

sustaining combativeness. In the period between 1971

and 1975, both the effectiveness and the democratic

basis of the local autonomy structure was brought into

question, in that the union was constrained in its

ability to meet the goals of its increasingly divers

membership. In particular, CUPE showed itself unable

to think through the implications of size for the public relations

actice of democracy; while it has centralized important

functions it did not construct decision-making processe

s that would allow workers to democratically define

and act on the interests of “ public sector workers ” as a solid. V. Note on Method and Sources CUPE ’ s organizational structure presents the resear

cher with more than an interesting theoretical

and empiric puzzle. Its decentralized, many-sided

nature presents methodological challenges as well.

The diverseness of experiences along sectoral and regional

lines, for instance, makes the construction of an

overarching narrative slightly diffi

cult. While there is a practical need to focus on particular sectors,

locals, or activists, this work aims at underst

anding the general dynamics which structure the union’s

inner political relationships, and as a resultant role deoxythymidine monophosphate

he possibilities and limits encountered by sub-units of the

unions. Although, as we shall see, there is variati

on in the extent to which locals benefit from local

autonomy, there is no doubt that

the particular way that local autonomy has been built into CUPE’s

structure has a brawny determining effect on local anesthetic union

action. As a result, the emphasis is on the major

debates over the meaning and practice of local autonomy

(and the way this has been articulated in terms of

democratic and effective unionism ) which are most visible at the national degree. This project is an in-depth case learn of one union at

a formative moment in its history. It provides

a detailed analysis of debates within a detail uni

on which touch on several key theoretical questions

about union democracy, bureaucracy, structure and one hundred fifty

ass identity. This approach has been adopted for

18 13

E.P. Thompson,

The Making of the English Working Class

(London: Penguin, 1963), 8.

three chief reasons. first, as has been mentioned, t

here has been little historical analysis of the origins

and central dynamics of CUPE, and as such historic

al documentation is intrinsically valuable.

Second, however, is the desire to demonstrate in

the case of CUPE the oper

ation of the historical

materialist penetration that people make history, but not

under conditions of their own choosing. Only by

examining the active attempts by public sector

workers and their union leaders to forge an organization

which would express a common set of interests and

identity, uncovering how debates over democracy and

structure were settled, and analysing how those decisions subsequently shaped much of CUPE ’ s future development can we understand the crucial

moments in the process of class formation. It is useful to refer,

as the deed of the dissertation does, to E.P. Thompson ’ s celebrated work,

The Making of the English Working

classify

. His emphasis, like mine, is on “making”, on the hi

storical process in which people actively intervene

to define themselves, their community of interest, and t

heir institutional and cultural expressions. Class, as

well as the organizational expressions of concrete solve

ing classes, “evades analysis if we attempt to stop it

dead at any given moment and anatomize

its structure. The finest-meshed sociological net cannot give us

a pure specimen of class, any more than it can give us one of deference or of love. ”

So it is with CUPE: in

order to understand its show, we must understand how

that present is the product of a set of earlier

struggles. Third, focus on the history of a finical case

allows us to ask questions of the conventional

wisdom which has grown up around the theoretical and

political questions concerning the nature of unions

as organizations. As such, this research is pres

ented against the backdrop of other historical analyses of

major canadian and other unions, upon which certain

theoretical generalizations about democracy and

social organization have been based. As Barrington Moore argues, it

is important to conduct history in a comparative

context, so that cases “ can serve as a uncut negat

ive check on accepted historical explanations” and

19 14

Barrington Moore,

The Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy

(New York: Penguin, 1966), x.

Ibid., xi.

David Harvey,

The Limits to Capital

(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 2.

possibly even “ lead to new diachronic generalizations. ”

In this process, the detailed case study is important

if sometimes confusing. In explaining the relati

onship between detailed histor

ical study and comparative

generalization, Moore describes we

ll the experience of researching and writing this dissertation:

Generalizations that are sound resemble a large-scale

map of an extended terrain, such as an airplane pilot

might use in crossing a continent. such maps are einsteinium

ential for certain purposes just as more detailed maps

are necessity for others. No one seek

ing a preliminary orientation to the terrain wants to know the location

of every family and pathway. hush, if one explores on

foot – and at present the

comparative historian does

precisely that a great deal of the time – the details

are what one learns first.

Their meaning and relationship

emerges merely gradually. There can be l

ong periods when the investigator f

eels lost in an underbrush of facts

inhabited by specialists engaged in savage disputes about

whether the underbrush is a pine forest or a

tropical jungle.

however, through this work, one gathers together t

he material out of which broader generalizations can

be made or disconfirmed. Although not presenting respective comparative character st

udies in the way that Moore did, this work

does contribute to the possibility of conducting future such work on the major unions in the canadian labor bowel movement. For the present moment, however, a det

ailed look at CUPE’s formation opens one window of

many possible windows on the subjugate of union structur

e and formation. David Harvey, in describing Marx’s

methodological scheme in

Capital

, provides us with another image that frames the methodological choices

made here. CUPE is one of many “ windows ” through wh

ich one can look to see the “inner structure” of

things ; “ [ thyroxine ] he view from any one window is bland and

lacks perspective. When we move to another window

we can see things that were once hidden from horizon

. Armed with that knowledge, we can reinterpret and

reconstitute our sympathy of what we saw thursday

rough the first window, giving it greater depth and

position. By moving from window to window and care

fully recording what we see,” we come closer to

understanding the whole.

Although the sojourn at CUPE ’ second windowpane is

long, it is nonetheless spent in the

hope that it contributes to better theory and triiodothyronine

he anticipation of views from other windows.

20 The core of the dissertation is based on elementary massachusetts

terials drawn from the Canadian Union of Public

Employees Fonds ( MG 28, I234 ) located at the Na

tional Archives of Canada (NAC). These documents

include executive board minutes, parallelism, repor

ts, convention proceedings, and other materials

from CUPE and its harbinger unions, NUPE and NUPSE.

Full information on the author, title and

specific placement ( volume and File ) are included in the

footnote when the document is first used. As well,

personal interviews were conducted with Kealey Cummings and Gilbert Levine, both key protagonists in CUPE ’ s formative years, and among the few remaining Na

tional leaders from that time who are still alive.

These interviews are supplemented by authoritative

biographies and autobiographies of CUPE leaders who

have either died or were not available for consultation .
21 1

Goran Therborn,

Science, Class, and Society: On the Format

ion of Sociology and Historical Materialism

(London: Verso, 1976),

71. chapter 1 : Rethinking Union Democracy I : The Role of Leaders and Members I.

The Union Democracy Literature: Lots of

Answers, but to the Right Questions?

The ‘ literature ’ on union democracy and bureaucracy

encompasses work from the past 150 years.

however, what one encounters is less a chiseled body of

work but rather a series

of distinct ‘literatures’,

each about working course organizations at a different st

age in their historical development, and each with its

own political-economic context and ideological assump

tions. As a result, not only do the questions deemed

relevant to explore exchange with each group of writers,

so too does the object of study, the union itself.

Sorting through these disparate ‘ sub-

literatures’ in search of what

Goran Therborn has called a “ social radiation pattern of determination ”

of union structure and functioning is a frustrating task. This is especially true

when one seeks to understand the inner logic of a particu

lar tradition. It is easy to get trapped within a

particular paradigm ’ randomness underlying assumptions and expl

anatory framework, to lose sight of one’s own

questions and to neglect to interrogate each tradition in term

s of what it may offer – or fail to offer – to an

understanding of a concrete working course organization.

This, however, is precisely what is needed if the

insights and limitations of the literature on craft union democracy ar

e to be appreciated and transcended.

rather than exploring what each ‘ custom ’ in

its turn has to say about trade unionism, and then

attempting to extrapolate what answers might be giv

en to the concrete dilemmas of CUPE with which I

have been struggling, I have opted to let my questions

structure the discussion, and explore if and how they

have been handled. This method of presentation serves

not only to eliminate tangential discussions which

do not bear on the CUPE feel, but besides to place the assorted positions in lead debate with each other. In such a presentation, the contributi

ons and absences of each tradition become clear, and the

areas of consensus and argument more obvious,

forming the groundwork on which my own critical

appraisal and analytic approach can be stated .
22 2

In the English language, at least, Richard Hyman,

Marxism and the Sociology of Trade Unionism

(London: Pluto Press, 1971),

John Kelly,

Trade Unions and Socialist Politics

(London: Verso, 1988), and Leo Panitch,

Working Class Politics in Crisis: Essays

on Labour and the State

(London: Verso, 1986) are the major exceptions.

While there is some overlap, there are three im

portant and distinct traditions which have dealt with

the issues of union democracy, structure and functions. Marxists were the first to have taken a unplayful interest in the organizations of the working class in

terms of their potential for transforming capitalist

company. For them, craft unions are an significant part

of understanding the process of

class formation, both in the abstract and the concrete. however, there

has historically been a definite gap between the Marxist

claim that craft unions form the basis on which revolutionary class consciousness and a democratic socialist company can be built, and the more reformer

and accommodative record of ‘actually existing’ trade

unionism. Marxists have consequently found it necessity to grapple with the reasons for this discrepancy. With their focus on whether, how and why deal unions might impede the working class from becoming revolutionist, the question of democracy per selenium in

workers’ organizations has often been secondary, or

assumed to be implicit in in revolutionary politics. There is a surprising dearth of theoretical work on the concrete structures and dynamics of trade unionism from a marxist position, particularly given the centrality of the working class in their political vision.

The marxist literature on the trade unions thus

seems to be beside the point for a discussion of

union democracy. It is not, however, for in their attemp

ts to explain why the working classes in the West

have not promulgated revolutions, Marxists have dev

eloped an analysis of the internal politics of unions

which reveals a distinct impression of democracy, it

s supposed connection to revolutionary politics, and the

conditions prevent its emergence. The long-standing Ma

rxist analysis of the material bases of bureaucratic

leadership is one of this tradition ’ s most authoritative and influential contributions to the discipline. Marxists, such as Gramsci, stressed the non-hegemonic nature

of the trade union as a product of capitalist

production relations ; having internalized the divisions in

capitalist social structure, trade unions are unable

23 to fulfil the working class ’ democratic and hegemonic pot

ential. There is also an important set of debates

about home majority rule in party life, beginning with the exchanges of Lenin, Luxemburg and Trotsky, which contain significant insights. These views cont

inue to have a contemporary relevance, as they find

expression in the political practice of many labour

movement activists, both those who are members of

socialistic organizations angstrom well as those involved in

the rank and file movements for internal union

majority rule. In the academic mainstream, Robert Michels ’ atte

mpt to understand the workings of power in trade

unions has been highly influential, becoming a mainstay

of mid-twentieth century orthodox industrial

relations literature. Combining insights from W

eber, elite theory and socialist-anarchist perspectives,

Michels ’ best sleep together work,

Political Parties

A Sociological Study of the Emergence of Leadership, the

psychology of Power, and the Oligarchic Tendencies of Organization

, is a compelling

prima facie

case for

the inevitable emergence of undemocratic rehearse

s and reformist politics even within socialist

organizations apparently committed to the democratiza

tion and revolutionary alteration of capitalist social

relations. The detailed descriptions Michels provi

des of the inner workings of the German Social

democratic Party ( SPD ) are disturbingly familiar to

those who have participated in workers’ and socialist

organizations, and have convinced many of their universal

validity. As such, his account, rather than the

marxist literature, has been established as the starti

ng point in nearly all academic discussions of union

democracy over the by century, and as such must be engaged. It is unmanageable to nail down precisely who should be grouped in the Michelsian custom, as its charm is thus wide. however, the unite thread is an emphas

is on the factors which sustain oligarchy. Seymour

Martin Lipset provides a methodological criterion :

he argues that this group consists of those who seek

merely to extend Michels by describing concrete oli

garchical practices in a variety of unions, but not by

24 3

Seymour Martin Lipset, “The Political Proce

ss in Trade Unions: A Theoretical Statement” in

Labor and Trade Unionism: an

interdisciplinary Reader

, eds. W. Galenson and S.M Lipset (N

ew York: John Wiley and Sons, 1960), 216.

Joel Seidman,

Union Rights and Union Duties

(New York: Harcourt Brace and Co., 1943), 20-51.

Mark Leier,

Red Flags and Red Tape: the Making of a Labour Bureaucracy

(Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 1995), 16-19;

180. 6

Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward,

Poor People’s Movements: How They Succeed, Why They Fail

(New York: Vintage,

1979 ), xx-xxi. “ developing a sic of propositions which can be tested by research. ”

Joel Seidman’s work, which involves

an exhaustive and detailed list of U.S. union leadership

transgressions against their members, is illustrative

of this overture.

A deep-seated pessimism about the possibility of democracy in large organizations gives

oneness to the Michelsian perspective, and as such encompasses those on both the right and the leave. Mark Leier ’ sulfur work is a beneficial exemplar of a leftist Michelsian : while clearly influenced by socialist anarchism and bolshevik theories of the parturiency gentry, his anal

ysis of internal union dynamics follows Michels very

closely, with the exception of the latter ’ mho united states virgin islands

ews on the character and role of the membership.

Similarly,

Frances Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, in their important cultivate

Poor People’s Movements: Why They

Succeed, How They Fail

, argue that attempts to institutionalize economic and political resources for the

“ lower classes ” by creating “ master of arts

ss-based, permanent organization” are doomed to fail in these aims. For

Piven and Cloward, it is the moment of gra

ssroots insurgency which is genuinely oppositional; the

organizations which emerge in the context of in

surgency inevitably abandon their oppositional politics and

become “ more useful to those who control the re

sources on which they depend than to the lower-class

groups which the organizations claim to represent. ”

A third base approach is Institutionalism, which had an initial and early formulation in the work of Sidney and Beatrice Webb, but became established as a full-fledged paradigm in the 1950s and 60s under the influence of U.S. behaviouralist social skill. C

oncerned with what was perceived as the growing power

of trade unions in post-war american animation, institutionalists sought to understand the nature, sources and implications of that ability for company in general. Most

of the work in this third perspective is characterised

25 7

Judith Stepan-Norris, “The Making of Union Democracy,”

Social Forces

76, no. 2 (1997): 476.

Maurice Zeitlin and Judith Stepan-Norris, “The Insurgent Origins of Democracy,” in

Reexamining Democracy: Essays in Honor

of S.M. Lipset

, eds. G. Marks and L. Diamond (London: Sage, 1992), 253.

by detail empiric study, and aims to uncover metric ton

he factors in union structure and function which support

democracy ( rather than oligarchy ). The influence of bot

h Weber and Michels is clear in this work, but most

deviate from a rigid Michelsian view in one of a number

of ways. Some do not share Michels’ views about

the problem of reformism ; others do not necessar

ily equate bureaucracy with oligarchy; still others do not

believe that oligarchy itself is inevitable ; and fina

lly, some do not find the emergence of oligarchy at all

debatable. There is, therefore, much variation in this liter

ature, making it somewhat difficult to organize or

relegate. In her inspection of this literature, Stepan-Norr

is offers a scheme of classification which identifies two

camps : the “ legalists ” and the “ behaviouralists ”.

Legalists place emphasis on unions’ formal internal

structures, like constitutions, leadership powers, hundred and one

vil and political rights of members, and the rights of

minority groups.

Insofar as union democracy is possible,

it is via institutional arrangements which

memberships place an effective check on oligarchic

power. Legalists tend to set out their ‘ideal model’ of

democratic unionism, and then assess the extent to whic

h actually existing unions conform to or diverge

from that model. The influence of the Webbs, Edelstei

n and Warner, Cook, and Leiserson in particular focuses

on these concerns. Behaviouralists, on the early hand, examine the alternating current

tual practices of union leaders and members, on

the assumption that constitutions do not constantly

reflect what people in organizations actually do.

looking at demeanor, these works typically attemp

t to develop testable propositions and generalizations

about inner marriage dynamics. In many ways, this work

is an attempt to put Michels to the ‘social scientific’

screen, to see whether and under what conditions his propos

itions hold up. Seymour Martin Lipset is the most

celebrated member of this group ; beginning with

Union Democracy: The Internal Politics of the ITU

, he ( along
26 9

John Hemingway,

Conflict and Democracy: Studies in Trade Union Government

(London: Clarendon, 1978), 1.

David Held,

Models of Democracy

, 2

ed. (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996), 2.

with Coleman and Trow ) endeavoured to find the conditions under which democracy is made possible and can be sustained. He concludes that Michels was not

entirely correct in that not every union will produce

an oligarchy ; however, he argues that the few unions

that possess the conditions necessary to sustain

majority rule are the exceptions which prove the dominion. A third group of institutionalists should be added to

Stepan-Norris’ classification which we might call

“ managerialists ”. In this group, the question of union dem

ocracy is rather beside the point. Instead, their

goal is to determine the conditions and morphologic arr

angements which will best allow unions to perform their

functions efficaciously and responsibly. Most of these

commentators argue that it is worthwhile to give up

inner democracy if it means that unions will be bette

r able to defend the interests of their members, most

frequently understood in economic terms. democratic cont

rol by the rank and file is only an issue if it is

needed to restrain a root leadership.

The works of John Commons, Magrath, Hoxie, and Lester are

outstanding examples of this approach. With this feel of the general terrain of the literature on coupling majority rule, we turn now to examine in more detail the ways in which democracy and its oppos

ite, oligarchy, are variously defined within it.

II.

Union Democracy: Subject to Definition?

It is important to begin with some exploration of

what is meant by “union democracy”, if we are to

grasp the conditions under which it is created, sustained and undermined. It is broadly accepted that democracy, at its most basic, is a especial

process

of collective decision-making or rule-making in which

the integral community, ‘ the people ’, participates. however, as David Held points out, there is little consensus beyond this rather obscure formulation ; in fa

ct the “scope for disagreement” is quite vast on each

element of this definition.

As in the arguments over how to organize

the political life of entire societies, the

27 11

Edmund Ions, “Oligarchy,” in

The Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Political Science

, ed. V. Bogdanor (London: Blackwell, 1991),

391. argument over the mean of union democra

cy, and the structures and practices implied, is characterised by

hearty discrepancy. Definitions of union dem

ocracy usually address the question of who exactly

participates, how and when they do therefore, and in what kinds of decisions. They much besides specify the conditions – economic, legal-institutional, or cultural –

which make this participation possible and effective.

The diverse answers to such questions result in an a

rray of other controversies over whether democracy in

unions at present exists, is desirable, or is flush potential. furthermore, all process-based definitions of

union democracy are in fact linked to the

content

decisions made, to the result of the democratic proce

ss. Whether implicit or explicit, all definitions of

coupling majority rule have as a standard some notion of the carbon

haracter of workers’ true interests. Since it is

broadly agreed that unions should be designed to serve

workers, assumptions about the latter’s essential

interests define what the genuine functions or purposes

of unions are (or should be), and therefore which

processes will best serve them. Decisions and practices which prevent unions from fulfilling these functions are therefore much seen as ‘ undemocratic ’, as

not serving the real interests of the majority. In

other words, in most conceptions of union democra

cy – even those which claim to be purely process-based

– adjective and substantive aspects are inextricably linked. ultimately, most definitions of union majority rule involve

some notion of what is taken to be its opposite,

oligarchy. indeed, most of the spell on inte

rnal union politics has chronicled the multitude of

undemocratic practices and the conditions in which they

flourish. The classical Aristotelian definition of

oligarchy involves the rule of the few in the service

of their own interests, most typically understood as the

prolongation of their own ability and relative privilege.

This can take the shape of a formal governance

social organization, or, more typically in the advanced era, of

a “management style” which emerges in the context of

formally democratic institutions.

However, the point at which the line between democratic and oligarchic

28 12

Carole Pateman,

Participation and Democratic Theory

(London: Cambridge University Press, 1970), 14.

Hilary Wainwright,

Arguments for a New Left: Answering the Free Market Right

(Oxford: Blackwell, 1994), 128.

government is crossed varies well in the

literature, as does the status of bureaucracy as a

particular kind of the “ principle of the few ”. While bureauc

racy connotes the ability of officials to make decisions

on behalf of others, there is significant consider over tungsten

hether it inevitably displays the second characteristic

of oligarchy, that of rule in the opportunism of

the office-holders themselves. As such, the question of

whether bureaucracy is inherently oligarchic

and therefore whether dem

ocracy and bureaucracy are

mutually exclusive is besides central to the diverse perspectives under examination. It is possible to categorize conceptions of union dem

ocracy on a spectrum from ‘narrow’ to ‘broad’,

in terms of the number and type of participants, as we

ll as the kind and scope of participation. There are

besides authoritative variations in how ‘ participation ’ is

conceived, which can be placed in one of three categories.

In the first gear, participation of the huge majority is confi

ned to the election of leaders, who substitute for them in

most decision-making and execution.

In the second, participation of the members is widened to

include decision-making on important policy matters, wisconsin

th elected and appointed officials responsible for

implementation. The third gear view emphasizes the importance of broad public address system

rticipation in the implementation of

decisions, which Wainwright terms the “ democracy of doing ”.

Those who employ a narrow definition of union dem

ocracy take as their model the practice of

spokesperson politics which characterizes capi

talist democracies. For these commentators, who

come chiefly from the legalist and managerialis

t camps and who are influenced by contemporary

democratic theory of the Schumpeterian

variety, it is not necessary for all members to participate in all

decisions. alternatively, the practice of delegating is

understood as sufficiently democratic: while the

membership may not be in send and direct control condition of

all decisions, they retain ultimate authority via

their ability to elect and ‘ unelect ’ their representatives in

regular electoral contests for leadership. In such a

model, most daily decision-making is restricted to a relatively little group of people. In order to
29 14

Stepan-Norris, 477; Pateman, 4, 14.

Samuel Gompers, “The Philos

ophy of Trade Unionism,” in

Unions, Management and the Public

, eds. E. Wight Bakke and C.

Kerr ( New York : Harcourt Brace and Co., 1948 ), 30, 31. 16

Adolph Strasser, quoted in J.B.S. Hardman,

American Labor Dynamics

(New York: Harcourt Brace & Co., 1928), 31.

Philip Taft,

The Structure and Government of Labor Unions

(Cambridge, Mass: Harvard

University Press, 1962), 35.

see the democratic character of this division of

responsibility, it is argued that conditions in which

members may meaningfully hold their r

epresentatives accountable are paramount.

As such, the

conditions which sustain competitive elections and or

ganized opposition as taken as the key indicators of

democratic process. The restriction of members ’ participation to electi

ons is often (but not always) linked to a narrow,

consistent and instrumental understanding of workers ’ interests and unions ’ purposes. Most of those who stress accountability over engagement argue that

since workers’ interests lie with economic

improvements, not with majority rule or revolution, uni

ons should therefore be structured to be effective in

economic struggles. such views are much directly attributed to the influence of Samuel Gompers, over the character and philosophy of the U.S. labor movem

ent. For Gompers, president of the American

federation of Labor for closely forty years, and his centiliter

ose associate Adolph Strasser, the priority in trade

union legal action is to bring immediate corporeal improv

ements to the working class, not to imagine “a new

company constructed from rainbow materials. ”

As Strasser put it in his testimony before the Senate Committee on Education and Labor, the tug drift has

“no ultimate ends … We are fighting only for

immediate objects – objects that can be realized in a few years. ”

Such views about the appropriate

officiate of trade unions were subsequently adopted by

many institutionalist theorists. Taft argued that

unions are “ single-purpose organizations ” focussed on thymine

he “protection of the economic interests of its

members. ”

Similarly, Selig Perlman asserted that, as “

opportunists”, U.S. workers “do not start with any

general theory of industrial company, but approach the subject as bargainers, desiring to strike the best wage
30 18

Selig Perlman,

A Theory of the Labor Movement

(New York: Augustus M. Kelley Inc.,1950), 268, 266.

John Rowett, “Labour Movement,” in

The Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Political Science

, ed. V. Bogdanor (London: Blackwell,

1991 ), 315. 20

Bruce Kaufman, “The Early Institutionalists

on Industrial Democracy and Union Democracy,”

Journal of Labor Research

21,

no.2 ( Spring 2000 ) : 197-8. 21

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 238.

R.A. Lester,

As Unions Mature: An Analysis of

the Evolution of American Unionism

(Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press,

1958 ), 17. 23

Sidney and Beatrice Webb, quoted in J.E.T. Eldri

dge, “Trade Unions and Bureaucratic Control,” in

Trade Unions under

capitalism

, eds. T. Clarke and L. Clements (London: Fontana Collins, 1977), 177.

bargain potential. ”

For him, workers’ “universal scarcity

consciousness … led them to try to create,

through negotiations with employers, corporate regul

ations governing the conditions and terms of work.”

Some institutionalists have a slightly broader

notion of union function than those following the

Gomperist line. For those like John Commons of metric ton

he Wisconsin School, unions also have an important role

in democratization of industry and company. Unions can reduce the “ insidious results ” of autocracy of industry and “ balance [ the relative ] bargaining power ” of labor and capital by creating institutions of collective bargain which allow workers to partici

pate in the regulation of their wages and working

conditions.

Unions, as an organized interest group, also protect “political democracy in the larger body

politic ” : they do so by “ facilitating political educ

ation and opposition … training new leaders, organizing and

representing their members to other groups and t

he state”, and “checking the encroachments of other

groups. ”

They also provide a means for “guiding worker

s’ discontent into orderly channels” and thus the

passive “ reconciliation of conflicting interests. ”

Whether focussed on economic improvements or one

ndustrial democracy, institutionalists tend to

agree that participatory forms of majority rule interfere

with trade unions’ essential functions. The Webbs

pointed out long ago that attachment to the “ archaic democratic ” principle that “ everything which concerns all should be decided by all ” inevitably leads to

“inefficiency and disintegration” or oligarchy.

Excessive

home debate or electoral opposition is seen to

undermine both union cohesiveness and the credibility of

31 24

Taft, 35.

Richard Hurd, “Professional Employees and Uni

on Democracy: from Control to Chaos,”

Journal of Labor Research

21, no. 1

( Winter 2000 ) : 8, 1. 26

Pateman, 5, 10, 14; M. Crozier, S.M. Huntington, and J. Watanuki,

The Crisis of Democracy: Report on the Governability of

Democracies to the Trilateral Commission

(New York: New York University Press, 1975).

Will Herberg, “Bureaucracy and Democracy in Labor Unions,”

Antioch Review

3 (Fall 1943): 411.

Kaufman, 190.

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 238.

incumbent leadership, specially in the eyes of the employer.

The involvement of the grassroots in day-to-

day decision-making can be had at the high price of

“conflict, internal fragmentation, and disunity”, and

results in what Hurd refers to as the “ chaos of democracy. ”

These perspectives are consistent with those

of Schumpeter, Sartori or Hunti

ngton, who argue that “too much dem

ocracy” above a required minimum

level is perilously destabilize.

The estimate that democracy is antagonistic with union

function takes several forms. For some, there

is a actual “ majority rule dilemma ” about how to comb

ine effective unionism with popular control.

however, most grudgingly accept that the effective gas constant

epresentation of workers’ interests requires that unions

dramatize undemocratic inner structures. While this is troubling to them, they believe that what is to be gained by such organizational forms is at least equal to, if

not greater in importance,

than what is sacrificed.

Commons and his followers reconciled the necessity for undemocratic unions “ through a pragmatic calculation that the social gain from using barter

unions to end employer autocracy in the workplace

outweighs whatever deleterious effects aris

e from autocracy in the unions themselves.”

Lipset goes further and argues that the conditions which foster

union democracy are undermining of democracy in civil

society more generally, as union majority rule leads to

self-segregation, selfishness and irresponsibility,

preferably than the civic virtues of compromise, common

understanding, tolerance of dissent, and consideration

of the interests of others.

Others do not find the absence of participatory or

even formal democracy problematic at all – in

fact daily control by delegate authority is seen to create the conditions of successful collective
32 30

V.L. Allen,

Power in Trade Unions

(London: Longmans, Green, 1954), 15.

Taft, 36, 64.

V.L. Allen quoted in Eldridge, 178; Lipset, 238.

Hemingway, 9-10.

bargain and frankincense to represent and serve workers ’ ulti

mate interests. No-one has stated this position

more clearly than V.L. Allen, who claims that “ tr

ade union organization is not based on theoretical concepts

anterior to it, that is, on some concept of democracy,

but on the end it serves … the end of trade union activity

is to protect and improve the general support standards

of its members and not to provide workers with an

exercise in self-government. ”

This line of reasoning entirely repl

aces procedural elements of democracy

with substantial ones. In this way, efficient

bureaucratic organization is understood as democratic because

democracy is more powerfully linked with outcomes rather than processes. In the most extreme variants of this status,

democracy is not even characterised by electoral

contest between elites. Inst

ead, these authors emphasize the wa

ys that leaders are “responsive to

members ’ interests ” in the absence of formally dem

ocratic procedures. Taft, for instance, points to the

process of pre-election compromise : for him, the abs

ence of observable opposition “does not indicate the

absence of differences, but preferably the fact that they

are compromised before the election.” He argues that

even incumbent leaders “ must constantly be aware of

important individuals, such as strong local or

regional leaders, and strategic locals, or crafts or

trade divisions” within the union, and endeavour to be

responsive to these differences. In other words, metric ton

he desire to avoid differences breaking out into the open

to preserve union cohesion and potency actually makes leadership responsive and therefore at least quasi-democratic.

Others argue that even within bureauc

ratic unions oriented around the economic

serve, members remain in ultimate authority. Leader

s must ‘deliver the goods’ or they risk losing their

placement or even their membership.

Hemingway calls this “control through satisfaction”, that is, through

the satisfaction of members ’ economic interests via colle

ctive bargaining; in this thinking, it is assumed that

members are satisfy and hence “ represent

ed” as long as there is no revolt.

In this argument, the notion

33 34

Pateman, 104.

Held, 157.

C.B. MacPherson,

The Life and Times of Liberal Democracy

(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), 86.

Robert Michels,

Political Parties: A Sociological Study of the Em

ergence of Leadership, the Psychology of Power, and the

oligarchic Tendencies of Organization

(New York: Free Press, 1962), 318-19, 364.

Therborn, 208.

of ‘ delivering the goods ’ reflects the stay operat

ion of a democratic principle as it entails the

representation of members ’ interests. It is with some judge that the institutionalist

position is accused of a rather fundamental watering

down of the mean of majority rule. Pateman argues

that this twentieth-century theory of democracy

“ bears a strange resemblance to the anti-democratic

arguments” of the nineteent

h, in which the average

person is deemed incapable of anything more than selecting leaders.

David Held terms this vision

‘ competitive elitism ’, “ at best … a means of choosing between decision-makers and curbing their excesses ” and a reach to characterize the arrangements it describes as democratic.

MacPherson also rejected

“ pluralist elitism ” on the basis that it taxonomic

ally produces and sustains inequality, which is “in

contradiction of the central democra

tic tenet of equality of individual

entitlement to the use and enjoyment

of one ’ s capacities. ”

Others are more blunt and call all of

the above practices oligarchy – indeed it is

precisely this situation to which Michels applied thyroxine

he term. For him, the need for representation, for

deputation of decision-making power, and for leadership

– fundamental to the functioning of all large

institutions – is oligarchic in nature.

The emergence of organization which necessitates representation

is therefore a process of e

trangement between leaders and members.

On the basis of these assorted critiques of radius

epresentation, a more expansive understanding of union

democracy is premised on the impression t

hat all members should participate directly in all of the decisions

which affect them. As such, lead or participator

y democracy is the model against which union practice is

to be measured. many writers in the socialistic or Marx

ist tradition fall within this perspective, as does Robert

Michels in the more anarchist-influenced aspects of hawaii

s thought. Even the institutionalist Coleman posits a

34 39

J.R. Coleman, “The Compulsive Pressures of Democracy,” in

Labor and Trade Unionism: an

Interdisciplinary Reader

, eds. W.

Galenson and S.M Lipset ( New Yo

rk: John Wiley and Sons, 1960), 208.

Michels, 66.

A.J. Muste, “Army and Town Meeting,” in

Unions, Management and the Public

, eds. E. Wight Bakke and C. Kerr (New York:

Harcourt Brace and Co., 1948 ), 333. 42

Norman Geras,

Literature of Revolution: Essays on Marxism

(London: Verso, 1986), 134.

Karl Marx, “Provisional Rules of the Inte

rnational Working Men’s Association” in

The First International and After: Political

Writings Vol. 3

, K. Marx, ed. D. Fernbach (London: Pelican / New Left Review, 1974), 82.

Lucio Magri, “Problems of the Marx

ist Theory of the Revolutionary Party,”

New Left Review

60 (1970): 2.

broad definition of democratic decision-making as char

acterized by “meaningful opportunities for members

participation in formulation, ratifica

tion and implementation of union policies.”

What justifications are given field-grade officer

r participatory models of democracy?

At the center of these views is the impression that workers ’ interests are more than merely economic. rather, respective thinkers have asserted that workers as human beings have an interest in freedom

from the control of others,

in self-realization, and

in economic and political emancipation via their self-activ

ity. The most basic is Michels’ socialist-anarchist

commitment to “ pure ” democracy, which permits

the masses’ direct and equal participation in “the

regulation of the coarse interests ”

and prevents their control by others.

Muste argues that trade union

democracy satisfies needs that workers possess but

which are not satisfied in capitalist production

relations ; through active participation, workers “ mho

eek release from the monotony and regimentation of

mechanize industry, and the opportunity for self-expression. ”

The importance of the active engagement of workers in the contend for their own dismissal is by and large highly developed by Marxists. For Marx, the mind of

proletarian self-emancipation is central to both

theoretical understand of history and

the revolutionary political process.

He accordingly placed the idea

that “ the emancipation of the working classes must

be conquered by the working classes themselves” at

the very beginning of the

Provisional Rules for the International Working Men’s Association

According to

Lucio Magri, Marx ’ s goal was “ to found in theory and to pr

omote in practice the action of man in history, as

a national of will and freedom following rationally arranged decisions and ends. ”

In other words, it is not

35 45

The link between participation and self-rea

lization was originally theorized by R

ousseau (see Pateman); however, as Geras

points out, there are some important cont

radictions in his conceptualization, namely that while engagement in participatory

structures creates the kind of person

capable of such engagement, those structures

themselves must be introduced by the enlightened who are not trapped by the undemocratic st

ructures in which we exist (Geras, 134-5).

Karl Marx, Thesis III,

Theses on Feuerbach

, 1845, at http://www.marxists.org/arc

hive/marx/works/1845/theses/index.htm.

John Kelly,

Trade Unions and Socialist Politics

(London: Verso, 1988), 35.

Rosa Luxemburg,

The Russian Revolution

, in

Rosa Luxemburg Speaks

, ed. M-A. Waters (New York: Pathfinder Press, 1970),

389. 49

Ibid., 386-7.

enough to have one ’ sulfur “ interests ” met by others ; rat

her, one must be actively engaged in the definition and

satisfaction of those interests. It is in the process of struggling to transform society, of creating revolution, that people are themselves transform, become capabl

e of reaching their full potential, and of living in

socialistic ways.

This “coincidence of the changing of circ

umstances and of human activity or self-change”

is Marx ’ s definition of revolutionary exercise.

The “ self-education of the working class ” is therefore a cardinal separate of the rotatory process. This subject is most potently expressed in the

work of Rosa Luxemburg. Her prioritization of

workers ’ self-activity is linked to her sympathy

of the process through which the struggling class

becomes aware of itself and its corporate interests.

In her attempt to understand what is required not only

to make revolution but besides to sustain a post-revol

utionary society which is both socialist and democratic,

she pays sustained attention to “ the immanent moment of class consciousness. ”

For Luxemburg, the

“ political discipline and education of

the entire mass of the people” is t

he “very air” which a revolutionary

government needs to survive.

The “unending pressure”, the “active, untrammelled, energetic political life

of the broadest bulk of the people ” acts as a correc

tive for “all the innate shortcomings of social

institutions. ”

Because revolution itself has no blueprint, because it “lies completely hidden in the mists of

the future ”, its very nature demands that the wides

t scope of experience and creativity be available and

used. Leaders can not possibly anticipate all problems or

develop all solutions, for “socialism by its very

nature can not be decreed … The negative,

the tearing down, can be decreed;

the building up, the positive,

36 50

Ibid., 390.

Ibid., 391.

Geras, 137.

Rosa Luxemburg,

The Mass Strike

, in

Rosa Luxemburg Speaks

, ed. M-A. Waters (New York: Pathfinder Press, 1970), 172;

Geras, 171. 54

Luxemburg,

The Russian Revolution

, 391.

Geras, 137.

can not. New territory. A thousand problems. only experience is capable of correcting and opening fresh ways. only unobstructed, effervescing life falls into

a thousand new forms and improvisations, brings to

light creative force, itself corrects all err attempts. ”

“Public control” is thus necessary because,

otherwise, “ the exchange of experiences remains only wisconsin

th the closed circle of the officials of the new

regimen. Corruption becomes inevitable. ”

In other words, the successful revolution demands working class political engagement. A key locate of this ‘ education of the labor ’ for revolution and socialism is in their own autonomous class organizations like deal unions, in

which they develop the consciousness of their

interests within the current organization of company,

the desire to supercede it, and the capacity to participate

in full in the management of a future socialist company.

Since capitalistic social structures do not permit the labor to gain the necessitate capacities, bunco

sciousness and organization for full and equal participation,

these must be acquired in the “ living petty officer

litical school” of revolutionary activity.

Otherwise, people will

just replicate the elitist social relations to whic

h they are accustomed. Through participation in these

organizations, workers develop “ social instincts in station of conceited ones ” which are the consequence of “ centuries of bourgeois govern. ”

They throw off “all habits of deference”, acquire “confidence in [their] own

ability to organize and rule ” and develop “ experience in organization and in the make of political decisions. ”

Put otherwise, workers need to develop, in t

heir own organizations, “the kind of capacities and

potentials which are absolutely fundamental to one day build

ing a different kind of society: the capacities for

37 56

Sam Gindin, “Socialism with Sober Senses: Developing Workers’ Capacities,” in

The Socialist Register 1998: The Communist

Manifesto nowadays

, eds. L. Panitch and C. Leys (New Yo

rk: Monthly Review Press, 1998), 79.

Karl Marx to Johann von Schweitzer,

13 February 1865, 147; Karl Marx to Johann von Schweitzer, 13 October 1868, 156; Karl

Marx and Frederick Engels, Circular Letter to Bebel,

Liebknecht, Bracke, et.al

., 17-18 September 1879, 375.

Geras, 157.

Geras, 170-172.

doing, creating, design, executing ” which are systematically underdeveloped by capitalism.

For this

rationality, Marx placed a identical high priority on the exploitation of trade unions as spaces for the work course to learn how to “ walk by themselves ”,

and condemned those leaders like Lassalle whose tactics

served to substitute themselves for the workers

and deny that the latter was able to liberate itself.

It was

for exchangeable reasons that both Trotsky and Luxemburg ar

gued that the Leninist form of organization risked

creating a party “ from above and on the pin down basis of a small but compress group of marxist intellectuals ” rather of “ from below and on the basis of an ever

growing participation of the working class.”

For the most part, then, participatory democracy is

classically seen in the Marxist tradition as both

an crucial goal in itself and as an effective means to a variety of important ends : it is both developmental and instrumental. furthermore, these two faces of equality

ticipation are organically connected, for “the content

of the future must already be sketched in the activity of

the present”; in other words, if the ultimate goal is to

create a company in which all people are able to participate fully and evenly in decision-making and management of homo affairs, then the

process by which this is achieved must itself be participatory;

“ [ oxygen ] therwise, the end itself is distorted. ”

But evening amongst those who emphasize participation, the particular content of union action is besides important and serves to qualify which arrangements are seen as democratic. For exemplify, Lenin saw majority rule as integrally linked to the result of

trade union activity. Workers’ leaders and organizations

advocating rotation were by definition democratic, as

they expressed the ‘true’ interests of the majority,

namely their interest in the upset of capita

lism and its replacement with an egalitarian social and

economic order. The leaders of revolutionary wage-earning organizations were besides, by definition, not
38 60

Leier,

Red Flags

, 24.

Stepan-Norris, 477; L. Pearlin and H. Richards,

“Equity: A Study of Union Democracy,” in

Labor and Trade Unionism: An

interdisciplinary Reader

, eds. W. GALENSON and S.M Lipset (N

ew York: John Wiley and Sons, 1960), 266.

Leier,

Red Flags

, 25.

See Hemingway, 1-2 for a similar argument.

“ bureaucrats ”. Trade unions or political parties

which had adopted a reformist ideology were, on the other

hand, undemocratic.

ultimately, it is hard to avoid defining democ

racy without referring to both accountability and

participation, work and content, means and ends.

In many respects, there is a strong connection

between the two, since leadership accountability is exist

t secured by an active, informed, and participatory

membership.

However, the difficult truth is that proce

ss and content can and do come into contradiction

with each other. indeed, the identification of democracy ( or oligarchy ) by ideological subject at the expense of process can be used to justify an inadequate baron relationship between leaders and members on the basis of an elect ’ south presumed limited cognition of workers ’ interests.

When goals and methods come

into conflict, how to decide which is to take priority ? This problem can not be resolved

a priori

and imposed by decree on organizations. The balance between representation and engagement is and must be worked out jointly, in the context of an ongoi

ng political struggle over the concrete meaning and

practice of democracy. The relationship between means

and ends is key to democracy: the self-activity of

the knead class must be central, not because they

are always automatically democratic, or because they

constantly make the ‘ right ’ decisions, but because without

this, there is no basis for building an egalitarian

society, let alone democratic socialism. But

saying so doesn’t help us understand whether democracy

comes to be adopted within a especial marriage and why it takes the specific form it does. consequently, it is significant to

keep these various definitions of union democracy in mind as we move

to a more detailed interrogation of the factors whic

h are thought to sustain or undermine it. Definitions

involve conceptions of the concrete arrangements or

practices deemed to be sufficient to foster democracy.

39 64

See, for instance, Michels, Seidman, and Dan La Botz,

Rank-and-File Rebellion: Teamsters for a Democratic Union

(New York:

Verso, 1990 ) for countless examples whic

h span different historical periods.

This is thus not lone for academics, but for union leaders and members angstrom well, as they have recourse to these definitions of democracy as a justification field-grade officer

r their own activities within unions. Keeping these

definitions in mind, then, we will now move on to a moment

re detailed examination of the factors which influence

the libra struck between representat

ion and participation in workers’

organizations. In particular, we

want to understand why one expression may dominate over the other, and with what consequences. The focus here will be on the shock of the character, intere

sts and capacities of leaders and members, and their

kinship to one another, on the possibilities of union majority rule. At this point, we must delve more deeply into the factors which have been put fore as major influences on the democratic quality of unions. Mo

st treatments spend considerable time on elaborating

the factors which encourage democracy ’ sulfur opposites, o

ligarchy and bureaucracy. They vary only on the

motion of whether and to what degree these oligarchic

al tendencies are inevitable. However, much less

time is spend looking at the pressures

for

majority rule. here we will examine both, and in fact highlight how in each of the areas to be considered, there are coincident, contradictory and multi-directional pressures at work. III.

Leaders: Representatives of the Workers?

common to the majority of the perspectives

examined here is the idea that leaders bear a

significant share of the duty for the creation and replica of undemocratic union structures. The focus is on the undemocratic effects on leaders

of possessing delegated power from union members.

baron either changes once democratic leaders,

making them both oligarchical in approach and

conservative in ideology, or reinforces their al

ready existing tendencies. Given the easily catalogued

misdeeds of many union leaders, it is no surprise that they are deemed the primary culprits.

Michels in

40 65

David Beetham, “Michels and his Critics,”

European Journal of Sociology

22 (1981): 87; J. Edelstein and M. Warner,

Comparative Union Democracy : organization

and Opposition in British and American Unions

, 2

ed. (New Brunswick, New

Jersey : Transaction Books,1979 ), 32. Edel

stein and Warner argue that Michels di

d not equate existence of organizational

leadership with oligarchy, rather that the

former leads to the latter (and are therefor

e by implication distinct). However, sin

Michels posits this movement as inevitable, quite than mere

ly a strong tendency, organization and oligarchy are for all intent

and purposes the same thing, and the distinction Edelst

ein and Warner point to is, in my view, academic.

Hyman,

Marxism

, 9.

David Fernbach, “Introduction,” in

The First International and After: Political Writings Vol. 3

, K. Marx, ed. D. Fernbach (London:

Pelican / New Left Review, 1974 ), 25 ; Karl Marx

, letter to Karl Liebknecht, February 11, 1878.

La Botz, 10.

particular stressed the mutually reinforce nature of

psychological, political-organizational, and sociological

processes which leads those who possessed organizational power to abuse that might.

While emphases

deviate, the huge majority of commentators use both

material and psychological factors to explain why so

many leaders work to preserve their position at the thymine

op of the union hierarchy. The central controversy here

is whether such undemocratic leadership is inevitable,

inherent in leaders’ personalit

ies or in the structural

placement of leadership itself, or whether

some leaders may escape these tendencies.

The most basic version of these arguments attributes undemocratic leadership behavior to personal greed, dishonesty or opportunism. In other

words, some leaders are morally weak, unable to

resist the temptations of agency, and as a resultant role fa

il to defend the true interests of workers. Marx and

Engels, for example, emphasized the role that the “ master of arts in teaching

erial or ideological” corruption of leaders could play

in turning the labor movement towards

conservative ends and undemocratic practices.

Corruption and opportunism explained for Marx and Engels why Brit

ish trade union leaders, in exchange for an expansion

of right to vote and for bribes, opted to mobilize working chlorine

ass electoral support for the Liberal Party in 1868.

La Botz ’ s analysis of oligarchy in the Teamsters ’ union besides identifies the personal corruption of leaders as the central trouble. His description of the 1986 Teamst

ers’ convention is archtypical: instead of being a

consequence for democratic decision-making, it was a december

adent Roman orgy of food,

drink, entertainment and

hero worship in which then-president Jackie Presser,

“was carried into the hall on a sedan chair on the

shoulders of four eskimo dog weightlifters dressed

in the sandals and tunics of Roman centurions.”

The

41 69

Seidman, 21, 49.

Michels, 205.

While Michels does admit that “nurture” has some role to play

, in that leaders become good at or

used to leading, such sociall

fostered habits merely reinforce rather than count

eract nature. Beetham, “M

ichels and his Critics,” 83.

Teamsters are an extreme case of the relatively common idea that union leaders use their positions to benefit personally from the fiscal resources of the

union. The implication here is that the difference

between democratic or authoritarian leadership hinges

on “the type of men in office”: “much depends upon

the intelligence and personality of the union head. If he is

lustful for power or possesses an ego that craves

flattery, he may build a machine that crushes democracy. ”

In other words, leaders who were “better

people ” would be more able to resist

inducements to “betray the workers”.

A more pessimistic translation of the argument emphasizes that

all

leaders seek and maintain their

positions in order to satisfy complex psychologica

l needs. Those who would become leaders share a set of

predispositions which not alone make them successful in

their bid for power, but also drive them to seek that

exponent and the condition it brings. This scene is equality

ticularly pronounced in Michels’ work, and he attributed a

great share of undemocratic practices to the personal

ambition of leaders. For him, all leaders or would-

be leaders are ultimately the like ; allowing for variations owing to class origins, at base leaders are psychologically driven by the same desires,

that is, their “natural greed for power.”

In this view, these

individuals besides have the “ natural aptit

udes of leaders” which allow them to

fight their way to the top of the

social structure and satisfy their ambitions.

The “metamorphosis” of leaders into oligarchs is, for Michels,

rooted in their nature. Having attained such mighty positions, union liter

eaders begin to derive personal satisfaction from a

sense of importance and superiority. Their relations with union staff and members, vitamin a well as employers and government officials all foster such a self-concept

ion. Their success in union elections and collective

bargain, their accumulated cognition and experienc

e wins them the admirat

ion and deference of the

members. Their proportional success vis à vis their field-grade officer

rmer workmates fosters in leaders a tendency, “even if

42 72

C. Wright Mills,

The New Men of Power: America’s Labor Leaders

(New York: Harcourt Brace, 1948), 105.

Seidman, 47.

Michels, 81; Muste, 340; Samuel Friedman,

Teamster Rank and File: Power, Bur

eaucracy and Rebellion at Work and in a

Union

(New York: Columbia University Press, 1982), 26-7.

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 223. The im

plication, of course, is t

hat middle-class union leaders will not

turn

into oligarch, and this is indeed partially of Lipset ’ s explanation for the doggedness of

democracy in the ITU. These ideas are a

lso

found in Michels : while he did discuss the presence of members of the middle class ’ s intellectual and petit larceny class amongst the socialistic ranks, he did not see them as the chief campaign of em

bourgeoisment in working class parties. Rather, it was the effect

leadership on those of working class origins

that was the concern. See Michels, 238, 256.

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 224; Muste, 341.

Seymour Martin Lipset, “Michels’ Theor

y of Political Parties”, Introduction to

Political Parties: A Sociological Study of the

egress of Leadership, the Psychology of Power,

and the Oligarchic Tendencies of Organization

, R. Michels (New York: Free

press, 1962. ), 18. unconsciously, to look down on those who have not succeeded ”, and therefore to believe in their need for healthy leadership.

Their work brings them into contact wi

th members of the managerial class, by whom

they are seen, if grudgingly, as powerful people to be tantalum

ken seriously. Their greater control over their own

working conditions gives them a common sense of domination,

although their long hours in the service of the union lead

them to believe they are self-denying and therefore owed gratitude. Because of these ‘ heroic efforts ’, leaders increasingly collapse the distinction between themse

lves and the union, until “opposition to him and his

policies seems like treachery to the administration. ”

Their activities have a profound impact on the lives of

many others, which fuels their sense of importanc

e. They can often appear to have “saved the day” by

making difficult compromises and last-minute deals, thymine

hus averting costly and disruptive strikes. Through

these experiences, leaders come to see themselves

as powerful, indispensable and in possession of a right

to their leadership put.

These psychological dynamics, it is argued,

are particularly pronounced amongst leaders from

“ low-status ”, wage-earning occupations. Lipset arkansas

gues that the greater the

status gap between a leader’s

former occupation and their position within the uni

on, the greater the pressure to hold onto power.

The

idea of returning to the shop deck, of leaving the

sphere in which they have both control and respect, is

chagrin incarnate.

They must at all costs preserve this positi

on, for to lose it “is to lose that which

makes them crucial individuals. ”

This sense of self-importance is deeply rooted in working-class

43 78

Mills, 100.

Michels, 281. He goes on to argue that the variety of me

thods used to reduce the leader

’s dependence on the organization for

fabric benefit and promotion are besides in bootless. An insistenc

e on free service to the cause

would lead to two other negative

outcomes – either a dependence on “ comfortable cobalt

mrades” for leadership, or an incentive to

low-paid officials for “corruption a

demoralization ”. See Michels, 140, 146. 80

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 224.

Karl Marx to Ludwig Kugelmann, 23 February 1865, 148.

Michels, 260.

leaders who have, by their own efforts, “ made it ” up a

very long ladder to an important place in the social

structure.

However, the material insecurity inherent

in democratic processes and the psychological

inferiority still internalized by those who attain some

sort of social mobility plagues the “parvenu” ex-

proletarian, leading them “ to mainta

in his authority with extreme jealou

sy, to regard all criticism as an undertake to humiliate him and to diminish his import

ance, as a deliberate and ill-natured allusion to his

past. ”

In other words, union leaders confront an ov

erwhelming conflict between their psychological needs

and their ( erstwhile ) democratic commitments ; however, Li

pset argues, it is the former which usually wins

out, and results in “ strenuous efforts of the region of

many trade union leaders to eliminate democracy.”

Marx seems to have viewed Lassalle in this inner light,

and explained the German SPD leader’s failure to fight

Germany ’ s anti-combination laws and win unionizati

on rights for workers, and his accommodation with

Bismarck ’ randomness government in exchange for universal right to vote,

in terms of his desire to be seen as “the heroic

savior of the work class. ”

The profound psychological attachment to the trappings

of office is further reinforced by the normal

( rather than dirty ) material benefits associated with

leadership. This theme is emphasized by Michels

and Trotsky, and their respective followers, and their conscientious objector

mments on this issue are strikingly similar. Leaders

end to be members of the working class in socio-

economic terms: union leadership brings with it higher

salaries and control over the fiscal resources

of the union. As socialist and labour movements

themselves constitute a source of social mobility,

they allow proletarians to abandon manual labour for the

more financially advantageous, prestigious and impregnable

“brainwork” of party and union officialdom.

44 83

Michels, 262, 282-3.

Michels, 207.

Michels, 254; Beetham, “M

ichels and his Critics,” 87.

Michels, 283-4.

Kelly, 44, 49.

Leon Trotsky, “Marxism

and Trade Unionism,” in

Trade Unions under Capitalism

, eds. T. Clarke and L. Clements (London:

Fontana Collins, 1977 ), 77. 89

Michels, 264; Hyman,

Marxism

, 18; Trotsky, 84; Kelly, 44.

their nowadays higher wage, leaders are now able to enjoy a “ respectable ” petty businessperson life style and internalize the norms of “ good company ” to which they immediately have access.

A relinquishing of leadership

would not alone be a psychological humiliation, but besides

a “financial disaster” for those who would now have

to return to manual parturiency.

In other words, union leaders

undergo a process of embourgeoisement

through which they are “ assimilated into

the elites of established society.”

Both Michels and Trotsky emphasize the way that

the new material position of leaders has an

consequence on their political orientation and goals, a well as on the inte

rnal democratic process. As a result of their new

kinship to “ the existing ordering ”, proletarian liter

eaders relinquish their commitment to the overthrow of

capitalism. Michels asks, “ [ w ] hat concern for them

has now the dogma of social revolution? Their own

sociable rotation has already been effected. ”

Trotsky agrees: for him, the

root of leadership antipathy

towards rotatory change was the material privil

eges gained by the full-time labour bureaucracy, which

led to an identification with the organizations themse

lves rather than with working class interests and

struggles.

Union leadership, having “satisfactorily solved its own social problem”, opted to become

“ lieutenants ” or “ the economic police ” of c

apital in the exploitation of the workers.

In other words, union

leaders were nowadays “ strangers to their class ”, in full inco

rporated into capitalism’s mechanisms for controlling

workers, and resistant to any attack to mobilize work

ers in ways that they themselves did not control or

which undermined the material basis of their organizations.

According to this view, then, “trade union

45 90

Kelly, 77.

Geras, 161.

Geras, 199, 169, 195.

Trotsky, 77.

Trotsky quoted in Kelly, 42.

leaderships will tend to restrain social station

-and-file militancy because of its th

reat to their own privileges and to

industrial relations order. ”

IV.

Members: The Font of Democracy?

Another key factor examined in the literature is the function of

the membership in sustaining or

undermining union democracy. The identification of union

members as the source of democracy is common

in much Marxist think, but is peculiarly pronounced in the work of Luxemburg ( as we have already seen ) and Trotsky. These views are discernible in their employment with Lenin over the allow kind of internal party constitution and its kinship to the working course, their criticisms of european and American party and coupling leaders, and their think on

working-class strategy. Both maintained what

Geras calls a “ confidence in the efficacy of mugwump ma

ss political action”, of working-class self-activity,

upon which their review of bureaucracy within socialist and union organizations was based.

Both were

opposed to ‘ substitutionism ’ in which a party ( or union )

leadership, believing in its superior knowledge of the

means and goals of contend, stands in for and direct

s the working class, and both believed that mass

engagement would be an effective “ antidote ”

to bureaucratic inertia and conservatism.

For Trotsky and his followers in especial, the only hope for a democratic and revolutionist deal unionism lie in “ the dismissal of the workers

from the reactionary influence of the trade union

bureaucracy. ”

Trotsky’s writings from the 1930s contain

an analysis of the crisis-ridden political economy

of the time that led him to believe both the material

conditions and the workers themselves were ready for

revolution.

Given this, responsibility for the absence of such revolutionary action and continued political

46 95

Kelly, 43.

Trotsky quoted in Hyman,

Marxism

, 18.

Friedman, 14.

Stan Weir, “The Conflict in American Unions and the Resist

ance to Alternative Ideas from the Rank and File,” in

Workers’

Struggles, Past, Present :

A ‘Radical America’ Reader

, ed. J. Green (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1983), 254-8.

Michels, 107.

100

Therborn, 208.

defeats of the working class ballad with thei

r leaders, and in particular the union bureaucracy.

“The present

officials … are impregnated with the sp

irit of the bourgeoisie … In order to make the trade unions fit for their

future function, they must be freed of cautious offi

cials, of superstitious blockheads, who from heaven know

where expect a ‘ peaceful ’ miracle. ”

A trade unionism which the members democratically controlled would

therefore besides be revolutionary. This position is easily observed in much left wr

iting about trade unions and labour history from the

1970s on, and is particularly pronounced in the literat

ure by and about rank-and-file democracy movements

in the U.S. parturiency campaign. Friedman, for instanc

e, believes that union members are the main bulwark

against bureaucratization, which they can “ prevent or roll second ”.

Weir also describes the ways in which

workers have always ad lib organized via militant lead action as against leaders ’ efforts to tame them.

While Trotsky and Michels plowshare similar indictment

s of the labour bureaucracy it is on the question

of the workers ’ kinship to democracy that t

hey part company. Michels and those institutionalists

influenced by him assign an ample partake of bl

ame to union membership for the emergence and

sustenance of oligarchy : rather t

han the font and guardians of democracy,

the workers are its willing grave-

diggers. Michels argued that oligarchic tendencie

s of leaders are reinforced by what he termed “the

incompetence of the mass ”.

In this view, Michels was profoundly influenced by the social Darwinism

permeant in the bring of his contemporary

elite theorists like Pareto, Mosca and Le Bon.

100

Michels’

bifurcated sympathize of human nature, psychology and coke

onsciousness led him to believe that essential

47 101

Michels, 85, 107, 112.

102

Michels, 170; Beetham, “M

ichels and his Critics,” 97-8.

103

Robert Hoxie,

Trade Unionism in the United States

(New York: Russell and Russell, 1966), 178.

104

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions”, 220.

105

Michels, 105.

106

Michels, 83, 85, 87; Hoxie, 178.

differences existed between elites and masses. Howe

ver, they shared a common willingness to sacrifice

majority rule to satisfy other desires. The rank and file are seen to have profound intellectual deficiencies which make them incapable of taking on oligarchic leaders or participating in a

fully participatory democracy. For Michels, leaders and

members are mirror images : as the elites rise up in

organizations due to their natural superiority, rationality

and matter to in political affairs, so excessively are the masses

naturally uninterested in politics, politically immature

and uneducated, and thus unable to participate efficaciously.

101

For him, their fundamental ineffectuality is

apparent even when they occasionally revolt against

their leaders, for these attempts are “always

suppressed ” and ultimately irrelevant.

102

Hoxie argues that “the workers, untrained … cannot keep track of

affairs. ”

103

Lipset also emphasizes workers’ lack of polit

ical skills like communication and organization. He

points out that “ the average worker has

little opportunity or need to learn political skills. He is rarely, if ever,

called upon to make a language before a large group, to

put his thoughts down in writing, or to organize a

group ’ s activities. ”

104

The underdevelopment of these capacities in

the vast majority of union members

prevents the crystallization of discontented into

organized opposition or alternative leaderships.

Union members participate in their own subordinat

ion in ostensibly democratic organizations due to

their own psychological predilections ( different from thyroxine

hose of leaders), whether to self-gratification, laziness,

or a need to be instructed. The young “ find other ways of

employing their leisure; they are heedless, their

thoughts run in erotic channels ” while their

older counterparts are “weary and disillusioned”.

105

At the end

of the day, “ the proletarian can think only of perch, and of getting to bed in commodity meter ” and therefore is contentedness to “ leave the think to the officers. ”

106

The workers, Michels writes, des

ire to be led: “[t]hough it grumbles

48 107

Michels, 88.

108

Michels, 92.

109

Michels, 96-7.

110

Michels, 87.

111

Beetham, “Michels and his Critics,” 83.

112

Michels, 64.

occasionally, the majority is actually please to find pers

ons who will take the trouble to look after its affairs.

In the batch … there is an huge need for steering and guidance. This need is accompanied by a genuine fad for the leaders, who are regarded as heroes. ”

107

Such a view of leadership, venerated for their

sacrifices and casual martyrdom in the service

of the cause, produces uncritical gratitude and hero

worship amongst the members, and augments the leader

s’ sense of their permanence and indispensability

though continual reelection.

108

The workers’ “need to prostrate

themselves” before great ideals and great

individuals produces a kind of megalomania in drawing card

s, who come to believe in their infallibility.

109

furthermore, drawing from new writings in chromium

owd psychology at the time, Michels argues that

workers are vulnerable to the “ poisoning ” of non-rational appeals. Workers are only attract to public affairs when the shape preferably than the capacity is interest

ing to them. The mass is not interested in tactical or

theoretical questions ; rather, Michels writes, “ t

he ordinary members have a weakness for everything

which appeals to their eyes and for such spectacles as will always attract a agape crowd. ”

110

Michels also

emphasizes the function of oratory in attracting the chromium

owd’s interest and attention, which when combined with

the allegedly non-rational character of groups, makes the masses prone to emotionality and demagoguery.

111

Therefore, “the crowd … is always subject to suggestion, being readily influenced by the

eloquence of bang-up popular orators ; furthermore, direct

government by the people, admitting of no serious

discussions or heedful deliberations, greatly facilitates coups de mains of all kinds by men who are exceptionally bluff, energetic and adroit. ”

112

Such susceptibility, combined with the capacity for blind and

49 113

Michels, 90; Beetham, “M

ichels and his Critics,” 84.

114

William Leiserson,

American Trade Union Democracy

(New York: Columbia University Press, 1959), 66-8.

115

Herberg, 411.

116

Perlman, 266-8.

disorganized destruction, means not alone that the massachusetts

sses’ energies must be harnessed by elites, but also

that it is supremely easy to do so in the context of impart organizations.

113

finally, there is a materialist basis amongst the me

mbership for their willingness to give power over

to oligarchies. such views of union membership run

throughout the institutionalist

literature. Leiserson, for

example, argues that british labour party leaders are not entirely res

ponsible for the drive to autocracy in unions. Rather,

“ the demeanor and attitudes of the rank and file of

organized labor may be responsible for as serious

threats to freedom and majority rule in union organizations

as the desires of labor leaders for autocratic

powers. ” Leiserson agrees with Michels that worker

s “admire and rather prefer ‘strong’ leaders” who

“ deliver the goods ” ; as “ pragmatic sanction materialists ”, deoxythymidine monophosphate

he rank and file are thus “willing followers” and cooperate

in the creation of a bureaucracy which acts in its target.

114

Similarly, Herberg ar

gues that “members are

quite satisfy ” with union oligarchies “ vitamin a long as

things go well and they receive … proper service and

protection. ”

115

These views are in line with Perlman’s view

of workers as “opportunists”, not revolutionaries

or democrats, “ desiring to strike the best engage bargain potential. ”

116

Conclusion: The Contradictory Pressures on Leaders and Members

The Michelsian and Trotskyist perspectives on the

relationship to democracy of trade union leaders

and members are very influential, well beyond the bounds of

their respective self-declared followers. Their

shared disapprobation of union leadership commands widespread attachment on both the right and the leftover, and provides many with an easily-digested answer to

trade union problems. Indeed there is much which

rings dependable. The action through which leaders come to

have and protect interests distinct from those of

their memberships, the catalogue of leadership stra

tagems to maintain control, the collapse of any

50 117

Therborn, 208.

118

David Beetham, “Michels, Roberto,” in

The Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Political Science

, ed V. Bogdanor, ed. (London:

Blackwell, 1991 ), 365. 119

Therborn, 189.

differentiation between the administration and the leadership, thymine

he use of left organizations as sources of working

class social mobility, the borrowing of timid rat

her than revolutionary strategies: these dynamics and

practices can be readily documented in workers ’ organizations. however, both of these frameworks suffer from

some important and common problems. Both use

categories – ‘ elite ’ and ‘ mass ’, ‘ trade union bureaucracy ’ and ‘ absolute and file ’ – which are homogeneous and overgeneralized, with little to no telescope for variation. Both are deterministic in a reductionist fashion, peculiarly with esteem to human nature and consci

ousness, although they differ on the essential causal

mechanism at exploit. On the contrary, there is a lot

historical evidence to show that the categories of

‘ leaders ’ and ‘ members ’ control much more diversity

than is claimed, variations which have important

organizational effects. As well, both groups are subjec

t to contradictory pressures, and as a result their

motivations and behaviour are vastly more complex.

Finally, both groups are shaped by the specificities of

their structural or organizational context, by what thymine

heir unions do and how they do it, and by capitalist social

relations. In other words, the phenomenon we observe in barter unions are not merely the leave of the interview of will or desire of either leaders or mem

bers. Let us develop these ideas in more detail.

The inevitable and universal fictional character of Michels ’ explanations is based on a defective methodology which renders him “ ineffective to deal with

social and historical variation.”

117

Michels’ focus on commonalities

rather than differences give his conclusions the charac

ter of a natural and positivist “iron law rather than as

a inclination that could with conscious effort be counteracted. ”

118

His psychological determinism and social

darwinism compounded such universalize : by rooting hawaii

s theory in the “basically invariant characteristics

of men ”, Michels rendered unnecessary any

explanation of divergent practices.

119

Leaders and members

possess inherently given capacities ( or incapacities )

and motivations which determine both their position in

51 120

Michels, 175; Beetham, “M

ichels and his Critics,” 95.

121

Therborn, 191; MacPherson, 86.

122

Michels, 369.

an organization adenine well as their behavior. In the fa

ce of phenomenological variations, Michels can assert

with assurance that their underlie motivations are the same : leaders are greedy and self-aggrandizing, the masses bungling and apathetic, and the entirety of

their actions are explicable in those terms.

Michels ’ essentialist and universalize, if

divided, understanding of human nature has several

implications. His “ crude and reductionist ” see of

the ideology and consciousness of leaders as “merely as

a reflection of personal ambition and office seeking ” a

llows Michels to claim that conflicts between leaders

have no meaning – differences in ideology, policy or st

rategy are distractions from the root of the matter,

which is the search for power.

120

As such, Michels ignores both the authoritative differences hidden by his categories of ‘ elite ’ and ‘ mass ’, vitamin a well as the possibility of learning or of consciously shaping human behaviour so as to develop effective organizational barriers to oligarchy. Michels ’ pessimism about the capacity of homo beings to be transformed by social forces and their own activeness over meter is most pronounce with esteem to the masses. In this, Michels was like all the elite theorists of the belated 19

century, who, Therborn argues, shared

“a profound fear and contempt of the

masses ” and based their views on “ an unobjective premise that the political capacities of the average person in a modern marketplace society are a specify datum. ”

121

While Michels agreed that if the mass was to be empowered in any room, social education would be absolutel

y necessary to raise their “intellectual level”; he

maintained that such efforts would remain

“within the limits of what is possible.”

122

Workers’ capacities for

democracy at the time Michels wrote were one

ndeed limited: given the absence of mass education and

literacy, members ’ capacities to understand the comple

xity of their own organization, let alone capitalist

political and economic processes, were restricted in

important ways. However, Michels extrapolates and

generalizes besides much on this footing. As such, it is

useful to keep in mind that

“human potentialities are not

52 123

Geras, 170. Emphasis in original.

124

Kelly, 49.

125

Kelly, 166.

126

Kelly, 50.

exhausted by any

given

activities of men, not by their

present

attitudes and needs, level of education, and

so on. ”

123

Trotsky ’ s outline suffers from alike problems

of overgeneralization.

Leaders and members are

sympathize in terms of a polarize

and pre-determined set of categor

ies wherein the leaders act to preserve their privileges under capitalism and puerto rico

event the otherwise revolutionary workers from

overthrowing capitalism. But this understand of

leadership is deeply economistic, and assumes that the

consciousness of leaders can be read off their economic placement in a relatively direct fashion.

124

queerly, however, such determination of consci

ousness holds only for leaders, whose ideas “are

passively determined by material interests such as ra

latively high salaries”; workers’ consciousness, on the

other hand, is “ actively determined thursday

rough practice, understood as struggle.”

125

This is a bifurcated theory

of awareness, which is dialectic for so

me people but unmediated and economically determined for

others. While Trotsky ’ s political commitments led him

to an assessment of workers’ capacities which is

diametrically opposed to Michels ’, his position are si

milarly pervaded by an essentialism which defines

a priori

the nature of leadership ( ‘essentially conservative ‘ )

and the rank-and-file (‘essentially revolutionary’, but

always held back by the leadership ), and which obviates

the need to explore the actual positions, actions,

and awareness of these groups, however

nuanced or contradictory they may be.

126

Trotsky’s framework

therefore results in a taxonomic overassessment of

both the revolutionary potential of workers and the

undemocratic conservatism of leaders. Such an apprai

sal is contradicted by much historical evidence

which indicates the universe of both revolutionary and cons

ervative leaders, and of both radical and conservative

memberships .
53 127

Mills,

The New Men of Power

, particularly Chapters 4 and 5.

128

J. Barbash,

The Practice of Unionism

(New York: Harper, 1956), 371-2.

129

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 236.

130

Stepan-Norris, 340.

131

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 236. Of cour

se, the exception for Lipset ar

e former Communist leaders, who,

though motivated by a calling, are in his position more likely to us

e “the organizational machinery” in

“ruthless” and “dictatoria

l”

fashion in decree to remain in ability. Differences in the background, character, and i

deological orientations of leaders and members are

relevant to their motivations and behavior within the organization.

127

For instance, there are those who are

motivated by a “ will to leadership ”, but as Barbash argues, it is rare to find union leaders whose sole determination is the attainment of domination for its

own sake. Instead, “the purpose and the power are

inseparable. ”

128

The nature of this purpose varies, and has specific effects. Lipset, for instance,

distinguishes between the “ called ” and the “ careeris

t” leader. Those who enter the labour movement

merely for mobility, monetary rewards, and personal

status are much less likely to be concerned with

membership engagement, except on a strictly instrum

ental level. Leaders motivated by a sense of social

mission, on the other hand, are more likely to be “ a

ccessible to the membership … more concerned with

violations of a union ethic of military service to the

membership, and have greater

personal integrity.”

129

While they

may not constantly follow democratic practices, they are

more likely to feel constrained by their ideological

commitments and prevented from behaving as full-blown o

ligarchs. Similarly, Stepan-Norris’ research on

CIO unions with extremist leadership in the 1940s dem

onstrates that these unions had minimized the gap

between leaders ’ salaries and those

of the workers they represented.

130

Thus “the different calls that have

led people into the parturiency apparent motion make for

significantly different types of behaviour.”

131

unlike kinds of membership besides produce variat

ions in internal dynamics. The organization of

work and of different occupations has an significant effect on workers ’ capacities, their ideas and norms, and their feelings about themselves, not to mention thei

r relationships with fellow workers. The content of

exercise skills and the extent of control condition over work have

an impact not only on workers’ capacities, but also on

54 132

Pearlin and Richards; Lipset, “The Politic

al Process in Trade Unions”; Hurd.

133

Muste, 334.

134

Mills,

The New Men of Power

, 10.

their self-concept and sense of entitlement and ability to

participate in union affairs. Studies which have

identified such “ occupational sources of union majority rule ”

tend to locate the requisite characteristics in

higher-status, highly skilled or professional bring like printing, acting, teach, and journalism.

132

While

there is a diagonal here which inappropriately associ

ates workers in mass production industries with a

aptness for submission to authority, the stress of

the analysis on the way work shapes the views and

capacities of members is utilitarian. Both union leaders and members are besides subject to

opposing pressures, such that conflicts of

pastime within unions are not always manifested in term

s of this simple, binary opposition. As Muste points

out, leaders want democratic support but besides to step in

and direct the course of discussion. Similarly,

members want ‘ results ’ deoxyadenosine monophosphate well as the opportunity to express their views.

133

Mills also highlights the mixed

nature of leadership itself : “ [ metric ton ] he labor drawing card is

an army general and a parliam

entary debater, a political

foreman and an entrepreneur, a rebel and a martinet. ”

134

These multiple roles and interests imply different

kinds of behavior which is frequently mutually exclus

ive, and hence the direction leaders and members will take

international relations and security network ’ deoxythymidine monophosphate constantly clear

a priori

last, leaders and members are engaged in a mutually-conditioning relationship, and the effects of one on the other are not always visible in spectacula

r ways. For instance, a complete victory of the

membership over the leaders is not gas constant

equired for an impact to be felt; opposition

does

military unit leaders to act in response, in ways that may be suppressive or cooptive, but which ultimately does lead to some change in policy, social organization or process. In other words, the “ ma

sses” are not “inert political clay, without self-activity”;

preferably, their interventions do “ limit and influence ”

decision-makers, if not always in the way that is

55 135

Leo Panitch, “Elites, Classes, and Power in Canada,” in

Canadian Politics in the 1990s

, eds. M. Whittington and G. Williams

( Toronto : Nelson Canada,1990 ), 189. 136

Michels, 371.

137

Alvin Gouldner quoted in Hyman,

Marxism

, 33.

138

Richard Hyman, “The Politics of Workplace Trade Unioni

sm: Recent Tendencies and Some Problems for Theory,” in

The

political Economy of Industrial Relations : theory and Practice in a cold Climate

(London: MacMillan, 1989),157-8; Beetham,

“ Michels and his Critics, ” 98. 139

Beetham, “Michels, Roberto,” 365. Michels

of course admits this is possible, but

dismisses the idea that leadership change is

somehow indicative of democracy. For him,

the circulation of elites does not distur

b the domination of the mass by leadership.

See Michels, 343. intended.

135

Indeed, Michels himself admits that “the democratic currents of history resemble successive

waves ” which are repeatedly unwrap by oligarchy.

136

However, if oligarchical leadership is so powerful, and

the membership so impotent, from whence do thes

e “democratic currents” issue? As Alvin Gouldner

astutely points out, “ if oligarchic waves repeatedly

wash away the bridges of democracy, this eternal

recurrence can happen lone because men doggedly rebuild them after each flood. Michels chose to brood on only one view of this process, neglecting to consider this other side. ”

137

In light of this, a view of

the membership incapable of influencing the leadership

or the direction of the

organization is unwarranted.

therefore, the categories of “ barter union bureaucracy ”

and “rank and file”, like that of “mass” and

“ elite ”, hide a much as they reveal. Models prem

ised on this division ignore the multiple divisions and

tensions within each of these categories and the

mutually conditioning relationship between “leader” and

“ member ”.

138

What is most notable in both the Michelsian

and Trotskyist perspectives is the great deal of

conscious and effective power ascribed to union elites

. However, there are many problems with this

premise. Leaders aren ’ deoxythymidine monophosphate always competent, better organi

zed or able to assimilate challenges: they are

occasionally turned out of function.

139

But more than this, elites don’t and aren’t always free to act according to

their personal wills. As Panitch argues with res

pect to elite analysis in general, “too much credence [is

given ] to the autonomous ability of ‘ elites ’ to make

unconstrained decisions.” Instead, “[a]uthority positions,

positions of control, set structural limits to what

individuals can do in occupying decision-making roles within

56 140

Panitch, “Elites, Classes and Power in Canada,” 189.

institutions. ”

140

One might add that individuals are also

empowered and encouraged to act in other ways

shaped by their geomorphologic localization. As such,

the question then becomes one of understanding not only the

motivations of leaders, but besides the way that

institutions have been shaped (or might be shaped) to

encourage or terminus ad quem certain kinds of leadership and member

ship activity. It is to an examination of how union

functions perform this structuring character that we now turn .
57 1

Hemingway, 3-4.

Derek Bok and John Dunlop,

Labor and the American Community

(New York: Simon and Schuster, 1970), 70.

chapter 2 : Rethinking Union Democracy II :

Union Functions, Structures and Class Formation

As we have seen, it is not enough to study thymine

he attributes and behaviours of individuals within

unions. Though there are important insights to reta

in from the discussion of leaders and members, we

must be careful not to assume that social practices ar

e merely the result of individual will. Rather, people

dissemble within the context of institutions which struct

ure their behaviour, often independently of what they would

wish. In detail, the function of organizati

ons has a potent influence over the norms, goals and

strategies which are deemed lawful for individuals to

pursue, whatever their propensities. As such, we

turning to explanations which emphasize the function that

trade union functions play in shaping democratic and

oligarchic practices. I.

The Structuring Effects of Union Functions

The most cosmopolitan interpretation of the argument that union functions impose specific practices refers to the tactics which are necessary for a “ active arrangement ”. A very common explanation given for the bearing of autocracy in union structures is the indigence to

maintain discipline in the context of a collective

struggle : some kind of structure is needed to ens

ure (through both positive and negative incentives) that

everyone is working towards the accomplishment of common

goals. Insofar as unions seek to “protect [their]

members against external parties ”, whoever they ma

y be, they require solidar

ity, the subordination of

“ individual sake and autonomy to the collective good ”, and hence discipline.

In other words, unions’

very functions necessitate undemocratic forms of bury

nal organization. What varies are conceptions of the

union ’ s goals and the prescriptive value placed on them relative to democracy.

This theme of fight creating a

disciplinary imperative is particu

larly prominent in the work of

some socialists and radical labor organizers. For them, the

class struggle

imposes a set of imperative

58 3

Muste, 332.

Michels, 78-79.

Ibid.

Leiserson, 70.

tactical considerations on workers ’ organizations, fo

rcing them to adopt a military model. Working class

parties and unions exist in conditions of “ latent warf

are” which continually threatens their organizational

survival. consequently, as Muste argues, the union is “ a

fighting instrument” which “exhibits … a tendency to

take on the fictional character of armed forces and

warfare in its structure and activities.”

To fight effectively,

Michels contends, a hierarchical form of decisi

on-making and implementation is required to ensure

“ punctuality of decision, integrity of

command, and strictness of discipline.”

Centralization is thus posited as

the prerequisite for coordination of policy and action,

and for quick and effective mobilization of members.

such “ conditions of war ” are not propitious for dem

ocracy. As in military organizations, democratic

calculation of the members is impossible ; in this

vein, Michels quotes Lassalle, one of the original leaders

of the german SPD, who argued that “

[t]he rank and file … must follow their chief blindly, and the whole

constitution must be like a forge in the hands of its president. ”

The presumed tactical effectiveness of

such arrangement in the face of threat to organiza

tional survival is also said to produce a willingness

amongst the absolute and file to acquiesce to centraliz

ed leadership. As Leiserson points out, the insecurity

caused by the fear of external attack creates condi

tions in which oligarchic practices are endured, for

differently “ members would hardly be uncoerced to grant

arbitrary powers to their executives and support and

approve those who assume such powers were it not fo

r the persistent fears that their unions were in danger

of destruction or weakening to the point of ineffectiveness. ”

In other words, it is the dire situation in which

unions find themselves, quite than the power-seeking

of leaders or the apathy of

members, which creates

oligarchy. many institutionalists and some Marxists argue that it is the specific nature of

collective bargaining

as a action of conflict mediation which forces

unions to develop bureaucratic forms of discipline and

59 7

S.M. Lipset, M.A. Trow, and J.S. Coleman

, Union Democracy: The Internal Politi

cs of the International Typographical Union

( New York : The Free Press, 1956 ), 9. 8

Kaufman, 203.

Richard Hyman and Richard Fryer, “Trade Uni

ons: Sociology and Political Economy,” in

Trade Unions under Capitalism

, eds. T.

Clarke and L. Clements ( London : Fontana Collins, 1977 ), 160. 10

Lester, 23.

Lipset, “The Political Process in

Trade Unions,” 218; John Commons,

Industrial Government

(New York: Macmillan, 1921).

administration. The very work of corporate bargai

ning is bureaucratizing as it implies the need to make

and enforce complex agreements with employers. This

requires unity and discipline vis à vis subordinate

units, bolstered by demands for “ responsible union leadership ” from management.

Bargaining also

involves complex legal and economic issues which requires specialized expertness not widely held by rank- and-file workers. That is, effective collective bar

gaining generates a series of technical-administrative

pressures, and requires a particular kind of discipline

and knowledge, all of which have deleterious effects

on internal union democracy. As many of the institutionalists points out,

successful collective bargaining requires unity and

solidarity amongst the members, which is much transla

ted in practice into “a high degree of centralized

control by the leaders. ”

The need to present a united front to the

employer leads many to view internal

dissent an important obstacle to overcome, a problem

to contain. The maintenance of unity at the expense

of democracy may be particularly crucial in unions with diverse memberships, and consequently whose “ dicker strategy may require a judicious reconciliation of divergent sectional interests. ”

The pressure to expand the coupling ’ s penis

ship and bargaining coverage also generates

tendencies towards centralized oligarchic control.

Unions pursue growth because, as Lester points out,

there is a widespread, if naive, notion that

“size and power are directly correlated.”

Growth strategies may

have a rational basis, however. In industries with

regional, industry-wide or national product and labour

markets or with much competitive press, thymine

here is a compelling need to expand bargaining coverage to

more and more workplaces, then as to remove the non-union advantage.

This may take the form of pattern

60 12

Lester, 24.

Bok and Dunlop, 156.

Michels, 67-71.

Bok and Dunlop, 156.

Michels, 70.

Lester, 24.

dicker, a rehearse which besides contributes to

centralization because of the need to develop and apply a

common program to different workplaces or employers.

Expansion beyond the union’s traditional

legal power may besides be required for plain organizational

survival, especially if a union’s original industries

are in decline.

This strategy of growth, usually via organi

zing drives and amalgamations with other already

existing unions, is intended to preserve and increase

collective bargaining effectiveness for all but also

creates organizations excessively big and excessively complex for me

mbers to control effectively through participatory

democratic means. The natural and spontaneous response to growing size and complexity is, in the Michelsian position, bureaucratization. boastfully organizations require specializ

ed elites working in a centrally governed division of

parturiency in ordering to achieve their goals efficiently.

As growth often brings with it the additional problems of

an increasingly divers membership, working in a

variety of industries, this increased complexity

compounds the necessitate for home functional specialization, delegating, and bureaucratization.

The intricacy

of inner structures makes it impossible for mem

bers either to understand the whole or to exert control

over it, and this “ renders necessity what is called expert leadership. ”

The demand for speciate expertness is further reinforced by the increasingly complicated and legalistic nature of the collective bargaining proce

ss. As Lester argues, the character of collective

bargaining “ has tended to be increasingly actual, statis

tical and full of economic reasoning, so that the

amateurish negotiator feels … at a disadvantage. ”

As a result, there is a need for experts who understand

the conditions and specific problems faced by each diligence they deal with, adenine well as specialists in “ job
61 18

Ibid., 24.

Michels, 70, 72.

Wainwright, 214.

Coleman, 209.

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 219.

evaluation, time-and-motion study, pensions, medi

cal and hospital care, and supplementary employment

benefits ”, subjects which are “ broadly beyond the trai

ning and know-how of persons at the local level.”

The closely cosmopolitan consensus in the literature

is thus that there exists a negative correlation

between union size and complexity on the one handwriting, and

internal democracy on the other. The pressure

for large-scale organizations to develop rational so far hier

archical bureaucratic structures leads not merely to

a division of labor but the control of specify centrum

l elites over the entire organization. This expertise

is, for Michels, no mere supplement to members ’ cognition ; it rather usurp members ’ power to determine policy, and “ emancipates ” leaders from democratic operate.

As a result of their technical and political ability,

then, leaders “ acquire a freedom of actinium

tion which [they] ought not to possess.”

According to Hilary

Wainwright, Michels and others are describing what

they believe to be “an unavoidable ‘Taylorism’ in

political administration ”, with its intendant concent

ration of organizational power in the hands of a

professional elite.

It is, for some, the very nature of bureaucratic decision-making which is undemocratic:

as Coleman argues, “ bureaucracy involves a ‘ non-re

sponsive leadership’ that assumes a considerable

degree of omniscience as to what is best and attainabl

e for the members, that restricts access of its

opponents to the members, and that perpetuates a particular system of

superordination and subordination

through the growth of a relatively shut condition arrangement. ”

Thus, while bureaucratic organization may

permit unions to be more administratively effective and

effective in collective bargaining, “the greater the

bureaucratization of an arrangement, the less the pot

ential for membership influence over policy.”

But the undemocratic shock of collective legal profession

gaining on the relationship between leaders and

members flows not merely from its technical natur

e. It is argued that the acceptance of “contractual

62 23

V.I. Lenin, “What Is to Be Done?” in

The Lenin Anthology

, ed. R. Tucker (New York: W.W Norton & Co, 1975), 37; Anne

Showstack Sassoon,

Gramsci’s Politics

, 2

ed. (Minneapolis: University

of Minnesota Press, 1987), 40-41.

Hoxie, 182. Almost exactly the same language is used by Mills (

The New Men of Power

, 105). Of course, Hoxie believes such

moderation is a positive development. unionism ” and “ industrial legality ” itself has ideological effects on leaders which shape their practices and consequently their kinship to the rank and file.

Participation in the collective bargaining system not

lone integrates unions into the system of capitalist radius

eproduction, it implies the ideological acceptance of the

legitimacy of employers ’ rights of ownership and inte

rests in profitability and wo

rkers’ subordinate place in

the labor process and the economy in general. In

the view of both Lenin and Gramsci, trade unions’

employment in the economic fight and

collective bargaining signifies acceptance of ideological terrain

defined by capitalist product relations – the division of labor, businessperson legality and the definition of the actor as seller of tug power under capitalism – as

evidenced in their struggle over the price of labour

world power and not the commodification of labor per southeast.

Inherent in the system is the idea that mutually

beneficial agreements which ‘ balance ’ the interests of

employers and workers can be made. As such,

primacy is placed on the initiation and maintenance of

a peaceful, orderly, long-term relationship between

union and management. thus, battle in the collectiv

e bargaining system is conservatizing. Given

that union leaders are the direct participants in this kinship with the employer, they are most directly subject to these ideological pressures ; as Hoxie points out, their employment in collective bargaining “ tend [ randomness ] to make the leaders bourgeois. Re

sponsibility sobers them. As soon as they engage in

negotiations they realize the power of

the employers, and the limitations

in the ability of the employer to

meet demands. ”

Leaders ’ behaviour towards their memberships

is fundamentally shaped by the realities of

contractual unionism. They become “ managers of phonograph record

ontent” whose primary responsibilities are to police

the enforcement of the collective

agreement, and in particular to discipline and control members who refuse

63 25

Mills,

The New Men of Power

, 9; Friedman, 21.

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions”, 217.

Mills,

The New Men of Power

, 119.

Hyman, “The Politics of Wo

rkplace Trade Unionism”, 150.

See Don Wells, “The Origins of Canada’s

Wagner Model of Industrial Relations: T

he United Auto Workers in Canada and the

suppression of Rank and

File Unionism, 1936-1953,”

Canadian Journal of Sociology

20, no. 2 (1995): 192-224, and Daniel

Drache and Harry Glasbeek,

The Changing Workplace: Reshaping C

anada’s Industrial Relations System

(Toronto: James

Lorimer & Company Publishers, 1992 ) for applicat

ion of these arguments to the Canadian context.

Beetham, “Michels and his Critics”, 84.

Michels, 177-79, 183; Beetham, “Michels, Roberto,” 365; Lipset, “Michels’

Theory of Political Parties,” 18.

to adhere to contracts or who seek to act in washington

ys outside the bounds of the legally prescribed process.

The continuance of a bargaining relationship with megabyte

anagement is premised on the provision of “responsible

union leadership ”, defined by employers as the leaders ’ willingness to moderate demands, enforce agreements and restrain spont

aneous outbursts of militancy.

Mills describes the trade-off entailed in this

agreement : “ [ thymine ] o fasten peaceful plants and profitabl

e enterprises in a stable economy, the leaders of

british labour party will deliver a responsible, which is to say, a

well-disciplined union of contented workers in return for

junior partnership in the productive work, secu

rity for the union, and higher wages for the workers of

industry. ”

As a result, leaders are forced to assess member

ship activism in terms of its impact on the

union ’ south ( and their own ) ongoing kinship with management.

These considerations come to displace

the members ’ needs and interests. Rather than repr

esenting the members to the employer, union leaders

are said to impose the employer ’ mho needs on the members.

How are these insights about the shape effects

of union functions related to the previous

discussion of the fictional character of union leaders and members ?

The Michelsian framework uses these ideas to

reinforce their argument regarding t

he inevitability of oligarchy in unions. For Michels and Lipset, leaders’

control of bureaucratic administration, for whatever roentgen

eason, provides them with the political-organizational

tools to fulfil their congenital desires and maintain a bag on office.

Unparalleled access to information, expertness, coordination, and communication allows drawing card

s to assimilate or fend off challenges if and when

they arise, and with techniques that range from hyper-procedural to repressive.

In other words, there is a

64 32

Michels, 221; Beetham, “Michels and his Critics”, 87.

Kaufman, 205.

Hoxie, 179.

Kelly, 57.

convergence of psychological and organizational needs. No

t only do “the internal structural needs of the

administration and its care come to impose their

own logic”, displacing the membership’s goals, but

leaders besides increasingly identify personally with

these requirements, with

the organization itself.

In other

words, the addition of the structuring function of marriage

functions, and collective bargaining in particular, merely

deepens the Michelsians ’ pessimism. Managerialists would agree that the charac

ter of leaders and members converges with

organizational needs to create oligarchies. however,

this is embraced, or at least appreciated for the

‘ positivist ’ results it proffers, namely “ greater

organizational stability and moderation in the conduct of

bargaining. ”

This position is based on the Michelsian view

of members as “ignorant and impulsive”, unable

to appreciate the subtleties of dicker or the cons

traints faced by the employer, but managerialists are

not plagued by the Michelsian commiseration.

The Trotskyist scene of leaders and members can besides accommodate these arguments about the effect of “ industrial legality ” and collective bargaini

ng. The pressures on leaders to preserve an ongoing

bargaining relationship with an employer, to secure

the union’s organizational integrity and survival, and to

specify crucial craft union action as master rat

her than activist are real

. However, the important

nuance here is that such orientations do not flow

merely (or even primarily) from the consciousness of

button-down leaders. rather, these pressures emanate

from the more general context of capitalism. As

such, the Trotskyist ‘solution ‘ to bureaucratic conserva

tism, namely the alteration of the material conditions

of the leadership, could never wholly solve the public relations

oblem “so long as collective bargaining and collective

agreements dominated the wo

rld of trade unionism.”

As Hyman argues, such a model “help[s] explain

why union officials, though much politically and socially

more advanced or progressive than many of their

65 36

Hyman, “The Politics of Wo

rkplace Trade Unionism,” 150.

Hyman,

Marxism

, 84.

Hyman,

Marxism

, 33.

Muste, 332-35.

Muste, 333.

Johnathan Zeitlin, “‘Rank and Filism’ in

British Labour History: A Critique,”

International Review of Social History

34 (1989): 60-

61. members, frequently perform a conservative role in

periods of membership activism and struggle.”

however, while there is no question that trade marriage

leaderships face constant pressure to become

incorporated into capitalistic baron structures, Trot

sky assumed that leaders embraced their role as agents

of capitalist discipline. This can only be assum

ed if one adopts the Michelsian

position that leaders are

wholly independent of the rank and file.

Instead, as Hyman points out, the extent to which leaders

act to discipline members is variable star and needs to be analysed.

There are, in fact, severe problems with the washington

y that collective bargaining is portrayed as having

merely conservatizing and oligarchic effects.

Such an emphasis assumes that union functions are

homogeneous and non-contradictory. On the contra

ry, though unions are collective bargaining agencies,

they besides have other functions which result in cont

radictory pressures. Muste, for instance, emphasized

that unions are not nonreversible : they

are “armies” but also have the

structure of the “democratic town

meeting ” in which the “ generals ” argon

e elected and “the declaration of war and … the terms of the peace” are

voted on. Unions must both “ crusade and hash out ”. H

ence, due to their multiple functions, unions have a

“ divided soul ” which can not be escaped, and which pr

events the wholesale adoption of either extreme.

Unions ’ self-conception as power for industrial democra

cy means that they are “barred from developing in its

members the unquestioning obedience, the iron discipline,

the fixed routine, that characterizes and army.”

Herberg calls this situation the “ majority rule dilemma ”.

Zeitlin also argues that there is an ongoing tension

between confrontation and negotiation.

66 42

Hyman,

Marxism

, 73.

Perry Anderson, “The Limits and Possibilities of Trade Union Action,” in

Trade Unions under Capitalism

, eds. T. Clarke and L.

Clements ( London : Fontana Collins, 1977 ), 334. 44

Mills,

The New Men of Power

, 9.

Mills,

The New Men of Power

, 8-9.

Coleman, 213.

Unions are ambivalent organizations because, as a mean to exert power for workers over or against das kapital, they are underwrite by a democratic

rationale which legitimizes in certain circumstances

membership control over the leadership. Members do

respond to what are seen as egregious violations of

democratic process, placing limits on how far leaders can go in the pursuit of interests which are at odds with those of the membership. In early words, ther

e is a two-way system of power in unions, which defines

the legalize moments when leaders and mem

bers can exert control over each other.

The boundaries of

these relations of control are besides subject

to controversy and ongoing attempts at renegotiation.

Unions ’ relationship to capitalism more generally is

also contradictory. As Anderson argues, “trade

unions are dialectically both an resistance to capitalis

m and a component of it. For they both resist the

given unequal distribution of income within the societ

y by their wage demands, and ratify the principle of an

inadequate distribution by their universe, which impli

ed as its complementary opposite that of management.”

In early words, unions are both functional for capitalist parturiency markets as a contractor of labor and are rebellious against the prerogatives of private property and unilateral management dominance.

As a result, it is

ill-timed to interpret Mills ’ word picture of british labour party

leaders’ role as ‘managers of discontent’ as merely

involving the inhibition of rate and file activeness, as both the Michelsian and Trotskyist versions would have it. rather, leaders are sometimes required to “ w

hip up the opinion and activity of the rank and file”

against the employer, at other times to “ sit on it,

exploiting it to maintain a continuous organization.”

Even

in the context of institutionalized

collective bargaining, this tension c

an be observed, as leaders often wish

for a free hired hand in negotiations, and however understand the power that an angry and mobilize membership can provide.

As Hyman puts it, the union leader’s constant attempts “to sustain a delicate balance between

67 47

Hyman,

Marxism

, 37.

grievance and satisfaction, between activism and quiescence ”

means that it is not useful to beat all life out

of the membership.

This ambivalence thus provides counter

vailing pressures against the conservatizing

and undemocratic tendencies of unions ’

collective bargaining function.

Trade unions are shaped both by tendencies to be radi

cal and democratic, as well as conservative

and bureaucratic. Rather than taking as our starting

point the assumption that union functions inevitably

produce irremovable oligarchies, we rather need

to develop an understanding of how unions’ multiple

functions interact with each other, and encourage triiodothyronine

he development and ascendency of one or other side of

the equation. This leads us to ask whether marriage degree fahrenheit

unctions impose the same organizational architecture on

all unions. indeed, it is quite easy to observe that

there are important variations in union constitutions,

internal political dynamics, and structure. Do thes

e structural variations have any moderating impact on

oligarchic tendencies ? We will now explore in moment

re detail the writings of those who argue that union

democracy can be kept alive through the consci

ous design of political institutions.

II.

Union Structures: Built for Democracy?

There is no doubt that some union structures are speed of light

onsidered more ‘democratic’ than others, if only

at an impressionist flat. however, U.S. social

scientists have attempted to provide some empirical basis

for these impressions. In their work, much att

ention has been paid by some to the content of union

constitutions in order to ascertain which may be said to sustain democratic dynamics. Examining the ball aspects of unions has been the focus of the lambert

egalist institutionalists in particular, but Michelsians

have besides examined such matters. Socialists, on the other hand, have tended to neglect examination of the formal bases of union democracy, both in theory and in

practice. As Edelstein and Warner point out, this

absence has been justified either by

a critique of representative forms of governance as “parliamentarist”,

68 48

Edelstein and Warner, 56.

Ibid., 55.

Seidman, 22; Leiserson, 110-114; Edelstein and

Warner, 29, 5; Stepan-Norris, 476; Alice Cook,

Union Democracy: Practice

and Ideal

(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1963).

Zeitlin and Stepan-Norris, 252.

or by an anti-utopianism rooted in Marx ’ s horizon that

organizational forms will emerge from practice and not

from design.

While these are important cautions, the resu

lt has been a real paucity of Marxist thinking on

democratic organization. As such, we must turn to

the institutionalists and the Michelsians for insights on

the implications of unlike organizational forms for democracy. consistent with their commitment to representativ

e democracy, most legalists set out a very liberal

set of measures which are meant to guarantee polit

ical equality of opportunity and access; Edelstein and

Warner appropriately characterize this as

a “civil libertarian” approach to union democracy.

Typically,

such approaches consider some or all of the followi

ng constitutional measures as crucial indicators of

majority rule : freedom of actor’s line, particularly the right

to criticize union leaders, administration and policies;

exemption of fabrication, namely the mighty to organize oppos

ition groups or factions; equality of franchise and

of access to elected position ; exemption from discriminati

on, especially if one is a member of a minority group;

and the right to due process, a fair and unprejudiced tria

l, and the right of appeal. In addition, members should

be able to exercise these rights without concern of

reprisal, whether through violence or intimidation.

In other

words, legalists assess a union ’ second democracy according the bearing or absence of a constitutional “ bill of rights ” for union members. Legalists besides focus on

the type and extent of leadership powers, including

powers of date, trust territory, suspension and ejection. There are, however, important lim

itations to legalist constitutional analyses, which are recognized

even by some of its more contemporary practitioners.

Stepan-Norris and Zeitlin, for instance, point out that

certain constitutional guarantees or “ basic freedoms ” argon

e “indispensable” if “active participation” is to be

sustained, but not sufficient for democracy.

While these rights “provide the possibility for democracy, they

69 52

Stepan-Norris, 476.

Edelstein and Warner, 63.

Lipset, Trow and Coleman, 4.

Ibid., 3. Lipset, Trow and Coleman argue that the failure of

perfectly constructed consti

tutions designed in 1919 and designed

to guarantee majority rule in Germany, for example, demonstr

ates amply the naivete of the legalist position.

Ibid., 8.

never ensure it. ”

Similarly, Edelstein and Warner usefully

consult to nominally democratic structures as carrying “ democratic potential ” : while not claimi

ng a direct correspondence between rules and practices,

they point out that some arrangements have

a greater capacity for democracy than others.

Lipset, however, is more emphatic in his review

of legalism. Lipset, Trow and Coleman argue that

coupling members “ have learned … that the clauses in t

he constitutions which set forth the machinery for

translating membership interests and sentiments

into organizational purpose and action bear little

relationship to the actual political processe

s which determine what their organizations do.”

They suggest

that to believe differently puts one in a nautical mile

nority position, and even makes one a bit naive.

They claim that

“ with very few meaning exceptions all the efforts

to reduce oligarchical control [in unions] through formal

mechanisms have failed. ”

A concenter on the letter of the police does not expl

ain the gap which often exists between nominal

democracy and actual oligarchy. Nor is it enough to me

rely enumerate constitutional provisions which are

not even nominally democratic ; such an access may demonstrate the presence of oligarchic tendencies, but does not account for how or why consti

tutions came to be this way. Therefore, it is

necessary to look at factors other than constituti

onal measures to explain the presence of democracy or

oligarchy. As a result, for some institutionalists t

he actual extent of leadership accountability in unions is

more crucial. Rather than taking the constitution ’ sulfur

word for it, these researchers examine the factors,

whether formal, sociological, historic or ideological, which actually result in the membership ‘ holding leaders accountable ’. In such perspectives, the focu

s is on identifying how to ‘measure’ accountability, and

on establishing the conditions which sustain the indicato

rs of accountability. Competitive elections, defined

70 57

Hemingway; Edelstein and Warner, 63 passim.

Edelstein and Warner, 66.

Ibid., 63.

Taft, 41 passim.

Edelstein and Warner, 65-6.

Lipset, Trow and Coleman, 8.

by the level of quarrelsomeness and measured by how centiliter

ose an election is, are seen as a primary indication

of leadership accountability.

Close elections, it is claimed, indicate that competitors are operating in

conditions of relative equality, and that there are no taxonomic or structurally-produced biases.

Edelstein

and Warner in particular take a conventional organizational

approach to the question of elections, and investigate

which structures are able to “ chromium

eate equal competitors for leadership.”

A refer measure of leadership accountability is

the frequency with which incumbent leaders are

actually replaced. Taft, for exemplify, examined the francium

equency with which the national executive officers in

U.S. unions were defeated between 1900 and 1948, with

a particular emphasis on the president. His

results show that, over this period, union presidents faced fewer and fewer challenges, and rarely left office except by their own option.

These findings may give an excessively pessimistic impression, however, specially if the focus is entirely on the exceed officer. Edelstein and Wa

rner argue that a concentration on pr

esidential elections which involve

incumbents is besides pin down, and can mask extensive electo

ral competition for lower posts and for the top spot

when it becomes vacant. electoral struggles over di

fferent positions can be part of longer-term strategies

for building the persuasiveness to compete for the presidency,

and as such indicate a level of contentiousness not

observed if presidential contests are tallied up in isolat

ion. In that sense, unions which fill positions below

the top officeholder with close elections might be cons

idered democratic, or at least “non-oligarchic”.

In their attempts to explain the low level of

leadership accountability in unions via elections, to

discover “ why … confrontation groups find it so unmanageable to survive ”

, some have sought to elaborate the

cozy factors which might sustain organize factions. There is no question that factionalism in general is
71 63

Muste, 332.

Mitchell quoted in Taft, 59.

Lipset, Trow and Coleman, 15.

Ibid., 401.

a deeply contradictory phenomenon. It is believed by some to be “ a gestural of life ”,

and one of the conditions

which makes accountability and hence majority rule possibl

e. Others, however, emphasize the destructive

nature of factionalism in undermining a union ’ second integrity and

cohesion. Distinctions between different kinds of

factionalism and their varying capacity to contribute

to union democracy are thus made in the literature.

On the footing of his analysis of the Internati

onal Typographical Union, Lipset emphasizes the

special function that an “ institutionalized resistance ” pl

ays in making electoral contests relevant, without

undermining the coherence and stability of the organization as

a whole. For some reason, as Taft points out,

the ITU is characterized by factions which engage in “ vigorous ” electoral contests, but seem to “ keep in mind the necessity of preserving inviolat

e the strength and int

egrity of the union.”

As an preach of pluralist theory, Lipset makes

institutionalized

opposition central to his conception of union democracy. He

argues that, just as in ‘ mass societies ’ more generally

, citizens can only participate effectively in large-scale

organizations when members of sub-groups. Otherwise

, they will remain “atomized” individuals unable to

resist the authority of the “ controllers of the penny

ral power apparatus”. “Structured sub-groups” are the

footing for “ relatively independent and autonomous kernel

s of power” and sustain ongoing political conflict.

These groups in bend foster ongoing engagement : onc

e established, a two-party system is “one of the

principal opportunities and stimulation for engagement in

politics”, since parties

“attempt to activate the

apathetic ” so as to win world power.

However, in order to foster democratic practices and values, such as

tolerance for other opinions and deference for minority rhode island

ghts, and to “maintain a basic loyalty to the larger

organization ”, these sub-groups must exist in a relative balance, with none “ strong enough to gain complete power ”. Some have argued that factionalism at

least modifies the ‘iron law of oligarchy’: “even

though the success of one faction over another [ may

not] guarantee democracy … the continuing factional

72 67

Gordon Smith, “Iron Law of Oligarchy,” in

The Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Political Science

, ed. V. Bogdanor (London:

Blackwell, 1991 ), 299. 68

Lipset, Trow and Coleman, 13, 15.

Lipset, “The Political Process in Trade Unions,” 219, 221.

clamber ensures that no one gr

oup will wield permanent power.”

For Lipset, however, the two-party

system is by definition democracy, and his project is

thus to uncover the factors which lead to the

emergence and nutriment of such institutionalized gr

oups or “political parties” within trade union

structures.

decidedly, the universe of opposition is lin

ked to constitutional guarantees to members:

dissenters must feel that their rights to organize and

participate in union politics are protected. However, to

possess a correct is not the lapp as being able to ac

t on that right in an effective manner. Lipset thus

identifies several factors outside of constitutions

which affect whether and members can operationalize

their ball rights. There are at least two

important extraorganizational sources of support for

commit factions, namely “ communication roentgen

eaching the membership from sources outside the

organization ”, and means through which members can

develop their political skills outside the union.

external means of communication can be useful in di

sseminating views which are critical of union policy or

leadership, views which may not otherwise reach thyroxine

he membership via the channels controlled by the

leadership. As for political skills, we have already

seen that Lipset argues most workers do not have

access to such discipline through their jobs, and union

education programmes which provide such training

merely indoctrinate people into the “ party occupation ”. Ther

efore, he considers radical

political parties, churches

and the content of especial occupations as

sources of political skills development.

Lipset thus argues unlike organizational forms may sustain at least congressman, if not participatory, democracy. His inquiry in the ITU

shows that according to his definition of democracy,

some unions defy Michels ’ ‘ iron law ’. however, the

factors which he identifies as central to sustaining

democracy – decentralized industrial structure, deoxythymidine monophosphate

he presence of an occupational community, and the

73 70

There are many who have subs

equently adopted Lipset’s framework in an attempt

to refute his conclusions by demonstrating

that union democracy is introduce in many more unions than

originally thought. See Pearlin and Richards and Judith Stepan-

Norris, J. and M. Zeitlin. “ Union Democracy,

Radical Leadership, and the Hegemony of Capital,”

Sociological Review

60 (1995):

829–850 for examples. 71

Michels, 172.

Beetham, “Michels and his Critics,” 97-98.

Edelstein and Warner, 51.

Ibid., 51.

care of an institutionalized

opposition – are, according to him, rarely found and becoming more

scarce with the progress of modern industrial organization.

Hence, union democracy, is possible, but

strange, evening in terms far more narrow than those employed by Michels. But as we have already discussed, the equation

of democracy with competition between potential

leadership groups is at least controversial. Michels

argues that factionalism is not a source of democracy,

but rather represents the being of

a competing set of elites also wishing to establish themselves in

oligarchic positions. Oppositional attempts are explained aside as the wax of ambitious counter-elites seeking to become dominant themselves, and whose par

ticular programme or critique is irrelevant.

such, Michels focuses merely on the “ form rather triiodothyronine

han the content of party [

and union] struggles”, thus

eclipsing any analysis of the concrete changes in orientation and politics which may have resulted from the action of unlike groups or types of leaders.

By assuming that the content of internal political differences

between sets of leaders never matters, we never have to investigate whether it does or not. In this view, “ tied close rival is a fraud : it takes rate between groups which are or aspire to be oligarchic, and hence ‘ majority rule ’ equals oligopoly if not oligarchy. ”

Lipset himself admits that factions do not reflect a

leaders / members confrontation, but rather the action of

competing elites. However, the justification is given

by Edelstein and Warner : “ some option is better than none. ”

furthermore, Lipset is inconsistent in his treatm

ent of constitutional provisions as unimportant in

sustaining electoral competition. Zeitlin and Stepan-

Norris argue that Lipset’s anti-legalism is one-sided in

that he claims that clauses guaranteeing democracy do

not matter but those which reinforce oligarchical

74 75

Zeitlin and Stepan-Norris, 254-55.

Lipset, Trow and Coleman, 399.

dominance do. They argue that it makes no smell to say that some aspects of constitutions matter while others do not : if anti-democratic clauses have effects,

then so too do democratic ones, if not in the way

that liberals claim. If constitutions

didn’t matter, then top officers w

ouldn’t bother to attempt to have them

changed in their favor. Constitutions are import

ant, even if they don’t have a one-to-one correspondence

with reality. First, there are differences in the in

ternal political dynamics of nominally democratic unions

and those that are not. Second, and possibly more

importantly, constitutions are “living political

documents ” which reflect an internal political fight electron volt

olving over time, the factions participating in these

struggles, and the ‘ balance of power ’ struck in consecutive periods.

Constitutions are crystallizations of

internal power relations, the concretization of carbon monoxide

llective means and ends, which come to structure and

form future battles and their outcomes. even Lipset

admits this: he does point to the importance of formal

measures in the International Typographical Union

in sustaining democracy, even when the sociological

conditions which spawned them switch. For exemplify,

he credits the design of the electoral system and

built-in measures to weaken the ability of incum

bents with helping to restrain oligarchical tendencies.

If not causal, then, constitutions do matter at

least as reproductive or limiting mechanisms.

organizational purpose is another set of internal factors examined for their democratic implications. The simplest set of ideas has to do with the degree

of centralization. There is a broad consensus that

decentralized structures are positively related to

democracy, while centralized ones are most prone to

oligarchic control. This is based on considerations

of scale and proximity: local organs are assumed to

be more democratic since they are smaller and loca

te power within the reach of the membership.

Michels dissented from this position and argon

gued that even decentralized organizations can be

oligarchic, and resistor to cardinal control may not

be democratically motivated. Decentralization was

no answer either, for quite than being “ the consequence of the democratic tendencies of the masses ”, such
75 77

Michels, 198-9.

Ibid., 320, 326. Even syndicalism and anarchism, in his view, st

ill led to the domination of leaders over the masses, albeit

forms distinct from those in socialist or

ganizations. In the case of syndicalism, t

he emphasis on “direct action” by the worker

s, in

the shape of strikes in particular, itself leads to the emergenc

e of new leaders who seek to tr

ansform themselves in a permanent

elect. In the case of anarchism, avoiding organization and form

al leadership does not prevent

powerful orators from coming to

dominate over the minds of the masses. 79

Edelstein and Warner, 34-51.

Ibid., 52.

arrangements were indicative of minority leaders w

ho were unwilling to subordinate themselves to the

central constitution and hoped to maintain their “ local

spheres of action”; these leaders, while deploying

the “ terminology ” of majority rule and resistance against tyr

anny, were actually driven by the desire to “be

first in Munich rather than second in Berlin. ”

Such a position reflected Michels’ deeply-rooted pessimism

about the electric potential of different

institutional arrangements to

protect against oligarchy.

however, even though Michels was right to

caution us about the automatic equation of

decentralization and majority rule, Edelstein and Warner hav

e argued that there is much more variation in

the types of oligarchy than Michels understand. Michels implied that there might be different versions of oligarchy, but did not explore what remainder thes

e permutations might make. Edelstein and Warner do

investigate the means that oligarchies vary according to the membership and localization of leadership groups, and the different kinds of groupings which support them ; on this basis they develop of typology of oligarchic structures.

While they admit it is difficult to say which of these models is relatively more

democratic, Edelstein and Warner argue that “ [ einsteinium ] qually

oligarchic organizations are not necessarily equally

oppressive in the exercise of political might. ”

In other words, while we may agree with Michels that

decentralization does not imply the absence of oligarch

y, it might also be true to say that decentralized

structures may be less oppressive and therefore have more democratic openings. however, while many take the time to enumer

ate the undemocratic implications of centralized

structures, it is rare for person to bot

her to demonstrate the link between democracy and

decentralization. This wear connection is disturbed when structures are placed in a comparative
76 81

Donald Swartz, “United We Fall: Solidar

ity v. Democracy in Canadian Unions,”

Our Times

11, no. 4/5 (September 1992): 37-41

and Donald Swartz, “ Democracy in

Canadian Unions,” paper present

ed 2 September 1990 at the

Democracy in the Workplace

league, Centre for Research on Work and Society, York University, Toronto. context, and the specific fundamental motivations are

analysed. Swartz’s comparison of processes of

structural consolidation in the UAW and Steelworkers in

the 1940s demonstrates this point. In the UAW the

theme of more centralize District Councils was “ pushed by

the left as a means of controlling district leaders

– and in the context of a belligerent politics – as a means

to bring activists together.” On the other hand, an

anti-left politics in the Steelworkers

produced a different logic: to margi

nalize the left and to minimize their

entree to members, national councils were to be avoided and formal local autonomy enhanced. In this sense, decentralization, preferably than a mean to ensur

e local democratic control, was a method to support

maximal local dependence on pay staff controlled by the zone and international agency.

For these

reasons, the relative meaning and effects of structur

e must be understood in its specific historical and

political context. furthermore, these categories do not reveal the nat

ure of bureaucratic or membership power over

specific issues and processes. The ‘ division of labor ’ within unions is not constantly a elementary as leaders and experts leading, and members following ; rather, the precise contented of leadership and membership manipulate is variable. Take, for example, the example of operate

over strike pay. This is typically cited as a key source

of centralized bureaucratic power, and clearly a potent

ial means to ‘manage the di

scontent ’ of a militant, strike-prone membership. however, centralized strike

funds do not automatically confer such control. In

many unions, the use of hit pay as a form of inte

rvention in local collective bargaining is extremely rare.

intelligibly it is not enough to equate all centralize exponent res

ources with oligarchical control. Therefore, while

we must accept the universe of oligarchic tendenc

ies, we need not think that all such structures are

mechanically centralizing, evenly oppressive, or that they foreclose on all the same attempts at exercising democratic master. The pilfer and ahistorical categor

ies of ‘centralized’ and ‘decentralized’ tell us little

77 82

Richard Hyman,

Industrial Relations: A Marxist Introduction

(London: MacMillan, 1975), 41.

Ibid., 62-3.

about their connection to the particular forces whic

h created union structures, what their interests and

politics were, and how these interests were specifically institutionalized. This more nuanced sympathize of variation in uni

on structure requires an historical focus.

Hyman tries to historicize our understand of union structure, argui

ng that it “is not a fixed phenomenon

but a

process

, the historical outcome of interdependent but

not purposefully integrated strategies of a

variety of disconnected employee groups ”. As such,

this process has been characterized by the dynamic

interaction of “ two contradictory forces ” : that to

wards “breadth, unity, and solidarity” and that towards

“ parochialism, sectionalism and clannishness ”.

Hyman then presents a hi

story of the development of

trade coupling structures, demonstrating that craft uni

on movements have always engaged in struggles over

definitions of collective interests and determination, and the chromium

iteria for inclusion in or exclusion from working

class administration. The solution has been “ diverse form

s of workers’ solidarity”, indicating “contradictory

elements in their consciousness. ” And while there is

a great deal of organizational inertia, he points out

that “ traditional organizational forms are not immu

table”, nor is there any simple or mechanistic

determination of trade union structure by capital.

Therefore, while trade union structure may be

characterised by oligarchy and incorporation, it is besides a moral force process in which there is room for intervention. IV.

Democracy for Whom? Defining and Creating the Democratic Community

It is useful for Hyman to remind us that union stru

cture is the product of struggles over what unions

should do, how they should do it, and who should be involved, for it raises a question deeply submerged or absent in the union democracy literature : who belongs to

the core democratic constituency of the working

class to which unions must refer ? How is the definiti

on of that constituency related to how we evaluate the

78 84

Tom Langford, “Strikes and Class Consciousness,”

Labour / Le Travail

34 (Fall 1994): 111. Of course, these generalized

class interests can be thought to be satisfied in either social

democratic or socialist ways; nonetheless, both of these political

projects do in some way reach for generalized forms of class

consciousness which emphasize “the

class quality of the unharmed society ” and “ the want for the working class to unite and struggle. ” 85

David Harvey, “The Geography of the Manifesto,” in

The Socialist Register 1998:

The Communist Manifesto Now

, eds. L.

Panitch and C. Leys ( New York :

Monthly Review Press, 1998), 63.

democratic character and effectiveness of union stru

ctures? How does a focus on the goal of class

constitution – preferably than the more narrow one of meet

ing workers’ economic interests change our analysis of

the relationship between leaders and members, between union democracy, function and structure ? last, in what way does the method of class formation hav

e an impact on both the contours of the community and

the quality of the relationships which lin

k members of that community together?

Where the undertaking of class formation is made a cent

ral goal of union activity, then the question of unity

is often about more than mere potency at sati

sfying economistic interests within the confines of

capitalism. alternatively, oneness is part of the contend

to create a “generalized class consciousness” upon which

workers ’ interests can be realized.

As such, ‘effective’ unions are not simply those which act efficiently to

suffer members ’ immediate material interests. Rat

her, they are those which engage members in a process

of coming to see their interests as more than economic and as integrally linked to people beyond their contiguous workmates. In other words, unions are impor

tant in the process of “b

ring[ing] together all the

assorted highly differentiated and much local movem

ents into some kind of commonality of purpose.”

consequently, the clamber to create

an organizational expression of a wider class unity can be part of the

democratic representation of workers ’ interests. Where class formation is an significant moti

vation for union leaders, our understanding of the

mean and dynamics of centralization must necessarily be modified. centralization in this lawsuit is not merely about amassing personal baron at the top

of an unaccountable bureaucracy, nor even solely about

creating an ‘ effective ’ administration, although these may al

so be in play. Rather, such leaders are aiming at

foster and sustaining reciprocal bonds of obligation to those with whom the individual union member may
79 86

Ibid., 54.

Ibid., 64.

have little to no contact. These ‘ colleague workers ’ may besides have specific interests in conflict with both the general interest of the community and the particular

interests of one’s own immediate group. Though the

motivation to create a share common sense of interest out of

many particularities as well as to balance genuine

particular interests with general ones may involve forms

of discipline, this discipline is not always merely

top-down but rather can be reciprocal. As such, it is more

difficult to label all centralizers as mere oligarchs;

alternatively, the capacity of their goals deoxyadenosine monophosphate well as their lik

ely commitment to different (and contradictory) union

functions make them a lot more ambivalent fi

gures than Michels and Trotsky would have us believe.

In that sense, particularism based on Lipset

’s occupational communities, and the decentralized

forms of direct democracy which can be ( but ar

en’t necessarily) part of local unionism, are not

unproblematically more democratic than more centrum

lized structures. Instead, they rely upon a more

narrow understand of the boundaries

of the demos, based on the assumption that the immediate

community of workers is somehow more ‘ organic ’ than

general ones. This is unsurprising in that, as David

Harvey reminds us, capital organizes the working class spatially and concentrates them in places where they ( can ) become aware of a particular set of common interests.

These powerfully-felt particularities are

not bare appearance either : they are deoxythymidine monophosphate

he result of real differentiations in the working class, “actively

produced ” by the variations in “ capital accumulation and

market structures”, not to mention the articulation

of divisions of british labour party with “ ancient cultural dist

inctions, gender relations, ethnic predilections and religious

beliefs. ”

However, to presume that such communities

contain an essential common interest which

unproblematically demands commitment and defines the boundar

ies of legitimate democratic decision-making is

to naturalize a social structure and to passively accept the consequences of capital ’ s decisions in organizing the accumulation procedure. “ Place-bound loyalt

ies” are not more ‘real’ than those which stretch

across distance, and though mobilizations around them can be

very powerful, they create barriers to working-

80 88

Ibid., 70.

Charlotte Yates, “Unity and Diversity: Chall

enges to an Expanding Canadian Autoworkers’ Union,”

Canadian Review of

Sociology and Anthropology

35, no.1 (February 1998): 105.

course integrity. The structure of organizational forms

which unite that working class through democratic

processes seeks to “ intercede and translate

” between particular and universal interests.

furthermore, like centralizers, leaders rooted in thei

r commitment to particularist identities can be

both

democrats and personal power-seekers. indeed, t

hese leaders can use democracy, understood as local

autonomy, in opportunist ways, referring to a membersh

ip’s ‘given’ set of attitudes as a reason to be

exempted from broader obligations and retain ability rela

tive to central leaders. Even where these leaders

are accurately representing the ‘ will ’ of their membership, majority rule can be a much about insulating the group from the competing and ( possibly ) equally legi

timate demands of a larger community, and even

protecting privileges relative to others, as it is about retaining the right to make decisions over matters with direct effects on the group. As Yates points out, decentralized structures may be “ more permeable and consequently open to rank-and-file infl

uence” but they are also likely to

produce “autarkic local union bodies

that are only sporadically capable of coordinating strategies and actions beyond the local anesthetic sphere. ”

Insofar

as democracy involves not equitable representation and “ exemption from ” but besides egalitarianism, redistribution of ability and privilege, and authorization to act effectiv

ely in the advance of common interests, one cannot

plainly assume that localism is more democra

tic and centralism less so. Instead, decentralized and

centralized structures – and their respective proponents – must be understand as repl

ete with contradictory

pressures and potentials. In that sense, an emphas

is on how centralization can be linked to class

formation introduces new content to the “ oppose

ory pressures, motivations and behaviours” of leaders

and members, and in a way that destabilizes

previous understandings of those pressures.

To push the issue promote, classify formation probl

ematizes the posited inverse relationship between

majority rule and potency in batch organizations. While not denying the challenges associated with
81 90

George Ross and Jane Jenson,“Post-War Class Str

uggle and the Crisis of Left Politics,” in

Socialist Register 1985/86: Social

democracy and After,

eds. R. Miliband et.al. (London, Merlin, 1986); Kim Moody,

An Injury to All.

decision-making in large, building complex structures, when

the defence of broader class interests rather than

narrow economic ones is the goal, the criteria by wh

ich such actions are judged ‘effective’ change – and so

do the mean most likely to produce effective outcomes. There is cogency to the mind that merely economistic unionism, using the mechanism of roll up

ive bargaining, may require centralized, top-down

bureaucracies to achieve their goals efficaciously, al

though evidence from the 1970s onwards has shown that

such practices have diminished success given the massive

withdrawal of capital from the terms of the post-

war compromise with labor and the state.

however, where the formation and defense mechanism of broader class interests is at post, then different processe

s are needed for effectiveness, namely the need to foster

personal recognition with and committedness to broader

identities though a directly participatory process.

Members ’ contacts across workplaces and union locals, their capacity to ‘ have a state ’ in the decisions that affect that wider collectivity, and their date in

processes that attempt to balance the particular and

the general interest – all these are participatory

democratic aspects necessary to fostering a genuine

investment in the defense of class interests. As

such, there may be centralized organizational forms which

command

greater

rather than less membership participati

on and democratic control to be effective.

This is not to say that the goal of classify formation is constantly linked to democratic processes and outcomes or to argue that combining deeper forms of

democratic practice with centralized organizations is

straightforward or simple. As we have seen, there is

ample historical evidence of the use of undemocratic

forms of discipline in the search for working one hundred fifty

ass unity, which was partly what concerned Michels so

greatly. indeed, attention to the means used to effect

greater class unity in organizational terms reveals

precisely how messy and at odds such processes can be with respect to both democratic methods and outcomes, not to mention organizational capacities .
82 91

Gary Chaison,

Union Mergers in Hard Times:

The View from Five Countries

(Ithaca / London: ILR Press / Cornell University

weight-lift, 1996 ), 7-8. 92

Ibid., 14.

Ibid., 9-11.

Yates, 93.

Ibid., 104.

It might be expected that union mergers would be south

een as a key moment in the process of class

constitution, involving as they do working classify

organizational consolidation and the creation of broader

working class identities. While recent inquiry has

usefully emphasized their political rather than technical

nature, mergers have frequently

been understood as a defensive reaction, whether to declining union

membership, fiscal crisis, or destructive inter-union competition.

Moreover, merger outcomes are

generally evaluated in terms of “ bargain baron, or

ganizing ability, protection against raids, officer

recompense, membership engagement in coupling government, and economies of scale in union operation ”, all valid measures.

Finally, the literature does show how the

degree of post-merger integration is shaped

by the relative force of motivations and barriers

such as personal power considerations of leaders,

membership concern of loss of autonomy and fiscal

resources, and the challenges of melding union

structures based on varying approaches to

union function, democracy and administration.

rarely, however, are mergers understand as a part

of the process of creating a broader class

identity. not all mergers are motivated by this

goal; however, they all raise the key question of how to

“ represent the diverse and competing claims of thei

r expanding membership while at the same time being

adequate to of building inner oneness. ”

Charlotte Yates is one of the few to point to the complex connections

between interest representation, colle

ctive identity and organizational structures, all of which are objects of

controversy and the texture and dynamics of which

is generally missed in the merger literature.

She

examines how dramatic changes in union membership

, frequently produced by mergers, challenge existing

corporate identities and the organizational

structures which sustain them.

83 96

Mike Davis,

Prisoners of the American Dream

(New York: Verso, 1986), 7.

What is needed, however, is a deep sympathize

of how the outcomes of mergers actually

frame in mighty ways the subsequent

negotiation of collective ident

ities and the development of

decision-making structures. Mergers are unique mo

ments in an organization’s life, where underlying

assumptions about the function and relationship of drawing card

s and members, as well as notions of democracy and

union determination are crystallized, laid bare and subject to

discussion and debate in ways they simply aren’t in

‘ convention times ’. As the outcomes of struggles over how union identities, functions, structures and democratic practices should be conceived, mergers

form the terrain on which adaptations take place,

shaping the development of identitie

s and the organizational capacities to act on them in ways not fully

intended by their protagonists. In detail, the me

thod of unification has a major influence on whether old

identities are transcended or frozen into the newly stru

cture, new collective ident

ities formed or precluded,

new democratic practices to tie in concert the broader

community developed or blocked. While not wanting

to ascribe permanence or inevitability to the struct

ural outcomes of mergers, one should not underestimate

their importance. Mike Davis has argued with respect to the general serve of class constitution, “ the character of sediment historical experiences of the working

class [have] influenced and circumscribed its capacities

for exploitation in succeeding periods. ”

Conclusions

My purpose has not been to deny the universe of

oligarchical tendencies within unions, or even to

dispute the mind that democracy is a very unmanageable thing

to achieve, even in its most minimalist forms. There

are powerful forces which push union leaders to substitu

te themselves for their membership, for members

to relinquish the democratic rights, for collective barroom

gaining to incorporate unions into the reproduction of

84 capitalism, for bureaucratic structures to diminish

the scope for both accountability and participation. The

literatures examined here have, if nothi

ng else, amply illustrated these problems.

What I do wish to contest is the character of molybdenum

st explanations for these dynamics. First, it is

authoritative to reject explanations based on all-important char

acteristics, whether of l

eaders, members, collective

dicker processes, or centralized and decentralized struct

ures. Second, it is wrong to assert that anti-

democratic tendencies are inevitably winner

ious, that there is an oligarchical telos fatalistically working itself

come out of the closet. Third, discussions which fail to examine the effects of variations and contradictions in demeanor, serve and social organization are neither utilitarian nor social scientific. ultimately, it is impossible to understand the dynamics of union majority rule and oligarchy in a static and ahistorical fashion. Leaders and members should be conceived as possessing a variety show of tendencies and capacities, the development of which is profoundly dependent upon characteristics of the social context in which they alive. They may possess certain psychological propensitie

s given this social context, but the expression of

these tendencies is highly mediated by the structures

in which they operate. The link between workplace

experiences and visions of democracy is particular indicative, and can form the basis for important conflicts over union purpose. furthermore, these tendencie

s are contradictory, and action taken can be highly

contingent. More than this, however, the identical definition of

“capacity” and “incapacity”, of “expert” and “inexpert”

and the distribution of these qualities, is subjective and thyroxine

he object of struggle. It is taken as a given that a

particular kind of cognition is required for an effect

ive working class organization. However, what is

constituted as relevant cognition is socially construc

ted, its distribution is determined by capitalist social

relations, and is basically linked to organizational

purpose. Internal struggles are as much about

defining what constitutes the correctly kinds of skills

and knowledge to be a leader, as they about deciding who

possesses those qualities. These battles do not take

place in a vacuum, of course, and are structured in

85 97

See Harry Braverman

Labor and Monopoly Capital: t

he Degradation of Work in the Twentieth Century

(New York: Monthly

Review Press, 1974 ) ; Craig

Heron and Robert Storey, eds.,

On the Job: Confronting the Labour Process in Canada

(Montreal /

Kingston : McGill-Queen ’ second University

Press, 1986); Cynthia Cockburn,

Brothers: Male Dominance and Technological Change

, 2

erectile dysfunction. ( London : Pluto Press, 1984 ) ; Jane Gaskell, “ What C

ounts as Skill? Reflections on Pay Equity.” In

Just Wages: a Feminist

position on Pay Equity

, eds. J. Fudge and P. McDermott, 141-159 (Toront

o: University of Toronto Press, 1991).

Wainwright, 216.

Ibid., 214.

100

Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 32; Leier,

Red Flags

, 73-4.

crucial ways by the actions of both

capital and the state, but the outcome

is not as a result given. The

struggle over what constitutes skill is much be

tter studied and documented in the domain of the labour

process than within the sphere of working class or

ganizations, but the insights are nonetheless relevant.

The process of defining expertness within left organizations

is similarly an active social process of deskilling

the membership, of reorganizing what is and

who holds and transmits relevant knowledge.

The qualities

which define ‘ good union leadership ’ argon

e therefore not the same for all places and times, and evolve not

according to some natural blossom, but in the

context of battles over union function and the kind of

leadership thus required. An examination of Taylorism and its historical egress is particularly germane here as an doctrine of analogy. For what is authorize upon interrogation of the dev

elopment of scientific managem

ent is that it is not

production

per se which necessitates a highly differentiat

ed and rigidly hierarchical division of labour, but

preferably

production oriented towards the maximization of profit

In other words, Taylorism emerged as a

scheme in the clamber over

which

goals the organization of production would serve. Similarly, the

bureaucratization of working class organizations and the definition of leadership as technocratic should be seen as the merchandise of struggles over their purposes

and the organizational form which would best serve

those purposes. The embrace of institutionalized colorado

llective bargaining as a key mechanism of union power

did foster centralization of ability

into the hands of an ‘expert’ elite.

100

What is key, however, is that the

toleration of these finical “ definite aims ” was not

‘natural’ or ‘inevitable’,

but the outcome of lengthy

periods of inner struggle. It is therefore crucial to exami

ne those formative moments when the

86 movement could have developed in diverse directions,

and to ascertain why it took one path rather than

another, and not merely look at the result and

ex post facto

fashion it into a transcendental logic working

itself out. As a consequence, it is important to view union structur

es as the outcome of struggles over union function

and the kind of organization which will best serve deoxythymidine monophosphate

hose functions. These struggles are related to

democracy in complex ways that defy a bare equat

ion of centralization and leaders with oligarchy,

decentralization and members with democracy. alternatively,

the interaction of desires for effective business

unionism and for the formation of broader ( class ) ident

ities makes motivations – as well as the standard

moral or political judgements about these motivations – lupus erythematosus

ss clear cut. As we shall now see with the history

of CUPE, this is particularly the casing when examination

ining the merger process as a moment of both

organizational systematization and class formation .
87 chapter 3 : Contextualizing the Origins

of Canadian Public Sector Unionism

much that is central to understanding CUPE ’ s struct

ure and internal political culture stretches far

back beyond the year of its origin. The format

ive moments in its history predate even the kind of

unionism practised in the 1940s and 50s by its two

founding organizations, the National Union of Public

Service Employees ( NUPSE ) and the National Union of

Public Employees (NUPE). Both of these

organizations were chiefly the products of male, bl

ue-collar, skilled and unskilled workers in the hydro-

electric and municipal sectors, whose workplaces came

into existence at the turn of the last century, and

whose union locals were forged during the unionization

and strike wave associated with the First World

War. These locals were joined by groups of newfangled public employees brought into universe by a growing local state, whose bureaucratization through the

Depression and the Second World War ushered in a

moment wave of municipal unionization. such wo

rkers counted many more white collar clericals,

professionals, and women amongst their count, whos

e workplace identities and attitudes towards

unionism were often more ambiguous. These disparate

groups of workers faced significant challenges in

negotiating the class that their identit

ies, solidarities, and organizations would take, the results of which

were to have a fundamental impact on CUPE ’ south structure and declination

ision-making practices. As such, the contours

and contradictions of these fo

rerunners require exploration.

This chapter consequently delves into the emer

gence of municipal work and the changing economic,

political and ideological conditions under which it

was performed. The nature of urban expansion in

Canada brought municipal workers into close up, often

paternalist and politicized relationships with their

employers, relationships that served to impede the

development of class consciousness, maintain narrow

forms of identification, and prevent unionization. In

some workplaces, workers were pulled towards their

employers by a brawny sermon of service to t

he public good, shared professional values, or a pragmatic

recognition of the substantial benefits such cooperati

on would bring. Moreover, the fragmented nature of

88 municipal employers provided a geomorphologic basis for thyroxine

he formation of narrow identities and sectionalist forms

of administration. however, these relationships were besides full of

contradictions which, under the pressures of war,

tug deficit and unemployment, and economic and political

instability, led to their partial breakdown.

Public sector workers were pushed away from their

employers due to the changing nature of the work and

of labour-management relations. State expans

ion and the concomitant bureaucratization and

rationalization of municipal work, which began during the First World War and continued well into the 1950s and 60s, caused many to unionize and to seek broader, quasi-industrial organizational forms. furthermore, commitments to the populace commodity could be the basis of radicalization and the development of class consciousness, as the changing conditions of municipal

work made it more difficult for public sector

employees to carry out their service function, particu

larly to the urban working class. How these pressures

were understand and responded to varied over the periods in question and across different employee groups. These factors interacted in complicated ways with

the organizational, cultural and ideological milieu

of the already-established North Amer

ican labour movement. In the context of a split over the forms and

purposes of unionism, municipal workers aligned t

hemselves with organizations across the craft

versus

industrial divide that had been evolving since the 1880s.

Those groups most closely tied to their employers

opted for a very localize version of craft unionism

in which job control and local autonomy was paramount.

Those groups whose local conditions provided them with

experiences of broader worker solidarity, or who

had had minus experiences with a centralizing inte

rnational craft union, opted for industrial unionism

which emphasized broader commitment to working cla

ss interests and an organizational form to match.

such unions tended to develop notions of majority rule wh

ich asked workers to define their interests beyond

89 1

John C. Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City: Essays on Urban Politics and Policy, 1890-1920

(Ottawa: Institute of Public

government of Canada, 1977 ), 5. their contiguous workplace and be bound by higher levels

of authority which attempted to meet those

interests. however, these divisions were never simple or clear-cut. Discussing early municipal unionism is a undertaking easie

r said than done. It is exceedingly difficult to

find traces of the first municipal worker unions, tungsten

hether in the major surveys of Canadian labour history,

discussions of the processes industrialization and urbaniza

tion, or examinations of early city politics in

Canada. The col can be possibly explained by a general miss

of attention to workers’ role in political and

economic processes, but for tug historians, an orange group

erly narrow (if implicit) understanding of the working

class and the manner of its formation must besides be at

work here. Workers in the municipal public sector

were authoritative actors in both the urban and parturiency histor

y of Canada. Moreover, their specific place in the

political-economic order not only had deep effects on

their character and approach to union structure and

democracy, but besides on the nature

of the Canadian labour movement.

Canada’s ‘Urban Boom’ and the Emer

gence of Municipal Employment

municipal workers as a group were brought into ex-wife

istence by the pressures of urbanization which

ensued from expansion of industrial output. This puerto rico

ocess is usually identified with flows of agrarian

workers to the cities in search of secret sector

industrial employment. The concentration of workers

around areas of industrial production, however, raises

serious questions about how to organize daily life in

densely populate areas. In the canadian context ( as elsewhere ), duty for managing these problems fell to local governments and

their agents, municipal employees.

The footstep and time of urbanization varies inter

nationally and within countries, but many urban

sociologists place Canada ’ s ‘ urban boom ’ between 1900 and 1914.

This boom was driven not only by the

“ most rapid [ economic ] emergence in the history of post-

Confederation Canada” up to that point, but also by the

90 2

Palmer, 161.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 7-8.

Donald Avery, ‘

Dangerous Foreigners’: European Immigrant Wo

rkers and Labour Radicalism in Canada, 1896-1932

(Toronto:

McClelland and Stewart, 1979 ), 16. Avery points out that,

until 1914, the Dominion government was content “to give

businessmen a free hand in the recruitment

of the immigrants they required for

national economic development” due to the

determine of agricultural and railway interests. even though it wa

s expected that most would settle in the West and participat

e in

department of agriculture, a big share of immi

grants made their way to or got trapped

in urban labour markets (Avery, 16-38).

emergence of “ highly concentrated forms of corporat

e production” associated with the advent of monopoly

capitalism.

As a result, between 1900 and 1914 Canadian cities experienced a massive influx of people,

with over 2 million primarily european immigrants

seeking both temporary

and permanent employment.

City officials in this period faced the pressing ques

tion of urban organization and had to manage the results of

an open-door federal immigration policy over which they had little direct control.

Inadequate supply and

timbre of water and electricity, infrequent and over

burdened transportation, spiralling costs and restricted

handiness of propertyless housing, and concer

ns about public health and the spread of infectious

diseases : these were the outcomes of rapid urban growth with which city councils had to cope. however, it is important not to assume that

cities were passive, innocent bystanders upon whom

growth was being imposed from without. canadian urban

historians have demonstrated that most cities in

this period were dominated by pro-growth coaliti

ons of civic and business leaders. Although there are

authoritative regional and local variations in terms of thei

r precise class content, tilting them either towards

elitism or populism, such coalitions were about always bound together by an ideology of ‘ boosterism ’. As Alan Artibise explains, the central idea underlying metric ton

he “booster spirit” was an uncritical identification of

growth, of quantifiable material expansion as the centrum

l factor in a city’s success. Growth, progress and

notions of good citizenship were inextricably bound

up in the booster discourse: skeptics and opponents, or

“ knockers ”, were seen as lacking “ faith in the curie

ty”, “community spirit” and “business sense”. Another

powerful chemical element in this ethos was the notion that

all classes would benefit from a bigger and better city,

91 5

Alan Artibise, “Boosterism and the Deve

lopment of Prairie Cities, 1871-1913,” in

Town and City: Aspects of Western Canadian

Urban Development

, ed. A. Artibise (Regina: University of R

egina / Canadian Plains Res

earch Centre, 1981), 211-15.

Christopher Armstrong and H.V. Nelles,

Monopoly’s Moment: The Organization and R

egulation of Canadian Utilities, 1830-1930

( Philadelphia : Temple University Press, 1986 ), 11. 7

William R. Plewman,

Adam Beck and the Ontario Hydro

(Toronto: Ryerson University Press, 1947), 146.

Grace Palladino,

Dreams of Dignity, Workers of Vision: a History of

the International Brotherhood

of Electrical Workers

( Washington, D.C : International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers, 1991 ), 47. 9

J.S. Hagopian, “Debunking the Public Heal

th Myth: Municipal Politics and Class Conflict During the Galt, Ontario Waterworks

Campaigns, 1888-1890, ”

Labour/Le Travail

39 (Spring 1997): 40.

therefore securing sociable and political conformity. As

zealous partisans of their own communities, boosters

attend themselves as players in a high-stakes zero-s

um game in which another city’s gain was their loss.

The booster project ’ randomness equation of increase with

progress can be seen in the way they talked about

specific proposals for urban development. Infras

tructural developments like water and light were

“ metaphors for life and clarification ” and

the benefits they promised (the ability to walk safely at night, to

beverage and wash in ample and disease-free water,

and to protect against fire) were “the hallmarks of

bourgeois refinement. ”

Prevalent was the idea that electrificat

ion, whether through lighting or streetcars,

would solve urban ills like overcrowding and disease. According to Adam Beck, Tory mayor of London, ontario and the main advocate and first president of

a publicly-owned Ontario Hydro-Electric Commission,

“ [ planck’s constant ] igh rents, dear foods, slum conditions would be

greatly reduced by giving to city people cheap and rapid

transportation. It would besides make it possible field-grade officer

r the farmer to market his produce more quickly and

stingily. Under these conditions the interlocutor woul

d be eliminated, more people would be attracted to

the state, there would be cleaner, healthier and better condition of things. ”

Thomas Edison conceived of

electricity as “ a cardinal to homo liberation. ”

This converse of progress was a potent throng

ilizer of the community. However, many members

of pro-growth coalitions had much less exalted concerns

in mind. The presence of utilities could reduce the

price of doing clientele, as “ [ p ] roperty insurers

granted significant discounts to owners of property in

municipalities which had waterworks. ”

Beautification through the pl

anning of parks and boulevards was

92 10

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 33.

Artibise, “Boosterism”, 213.

In other words, booster coalitions were led by commerc

ial capital rather than indus

trialists. See Alan Artibise,

Winnipeg: A

Social History of Urban Growth 1874-1914

(Montreal: McGill University Press, 1975), 23-42.

Michel Gauvin, “The Reformer and the Ma

chine: Montreal Civic Politics from

Raymond Préfontaine to Médéric Martin,”

Journal

of canadian Studies

13, no. 2 (Summer 1978): 18-9.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 40.

Artibise, “Boosterism,” 215.

not thus much for the enjoyment of local citizens, but a

“business proposition”, a “pub

licity sport ” to raise a city ’ second profile.

As individuals, boosters had a great deal at stake in the inter-city competition for industrial

employers and the leave increase

in population, pressures which were particularly acute in the small

and growing cities of the Prairies who

desired the status of regional centre.

Pro-growth coalition members

were typically merchants from the local Board of Tr

ade or Chamber of Commerce, real estate developers

and speculators, street railroad track and puerto rico

ivate utility investors, all of whom

would reap direct material benefits from larger cities and the infrastructure they could provide.

In many places, local politicians were

entrepreneurs in the very field central to urban gr

owth. For example, Raymond Préfontaine, Montreal

alderman and mayor in the recently 1800s, was a stockholder in the Montreal Water and Power Company, the St. Lawrence Electric Company, and the Montr

eal Land and Improvement Company, “which developed

areas rendered accessible by electric tramways. ” Préfont

aine’s personal self-interest partly explains his role

in securing a thirty-year contract for

the Montreal Street Railway Company.

This personal venture in the pace and focus of urban development led local businessmen to view the purpose of municipal government and

the public sector in instrumental

terms. For them, the primary

mandate of city government was to direct its res

ources to aid the businessmen who saw themselves as

uniquely responsible for the creation of the city ’ s wealth.

In other words, local government was not about

democracy or the representation of divers interests, but merely “ a tool serving personal and community prosperity. ”

The business community therefore sought to control city councils so as to ensure that

93 16

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 15, 39.

Artibise,“Boosterism,” 215.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 39.

Artibise, “Boosterism,” 223; Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 28-9.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 18, 39.

Artibise, “Boosterism,” 223.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 17.

municipal services would be developed in ways that

supported their own profit-seeking activities.

similarly, though many boosters employed a democrat

rhetoric which emphasized “community spirit”,

cooperation, “ common ties ” and “ creating a shop of wale

th to benefit all citizens”, the best citizenry was one

which “ did not disrupt existing relationships ” and

provided mute consent for elite-driven projects.

This was particularly true of the function classes, and of municipal workers in particular, who were seen as obstacles to progress or “ just another factor of production

like raw material and energy, [which] should be cheap and

receive no party favor. ”

These ideological and fabric interests theref

ore led many booster-controlled city councils to

single-mindedly pursue undue expansion despite its colorado

st and the resultant “social catastrophe” owing to

the inadequate provision of services to already-e

xisting populations of the urban working class.

This “cult

of moreness ” was the hegemonic ideological public relations

ism through which the nature and goals of urban

growth were viewed, and the framework in whic

h city problems were addressed. As John Weaver

concludes, “ the urban boom was conducive to a occupation and real estate ethos … not to social reform values. ”

The concourse of the national-wide soar in urbani

zation and the specific strivings of city boosters

led to “ a elephantine problem for local anesthetic authorities ” and

a proliferation of “ever-increasing” demands for

municipal services.

As Weaver points out, “[t]he building boom in the private sector had a counterpart in

the public … [ in ] every major city. ”

These services were first and foremost infrastructural: water and

sewage, electricity and light,

streets, sidewalks, public transportation, parks, and fire and police

94 23

Labour Gazette

, January 1918: 33.

J.R. Conley, “Frontier Labourers, Cra

fts in Crisis, and the Western Labour Re

volt: the Case of Vancouver 1900-1919,”

Labour /

Le Travail

23 (Spring 1989): 17-8.

Kenneth G. Crawford,

Canadian Municipal Government

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1954), 182.

Armstrong and Nelles, 150.

Crawford, 183; Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 56-58.

departments were the kernel of municipal action in thursday

is period. The construction and maintenance of these

services produced an incredible demand for incompetent

and often temporary construction labour and cleaners

in especial, demand which was profoundly cyclic.

However, demand also increased for skilled workers

such as electricians, outside linemen, mechanics and

construction tradesmen, work that was often more

settled and plug.

In other words, early on there were

important divisions and hierarchies amongst

municipal employees, which posed the question of who

shared a community of interest and who should be

in the same organizations. Given this broader social and classify context

of municipal politics and urban development, the

amount and distribution of municipal employment was

often highly politicized and connected both to the

implementation of the booster sight and to ward politics. Council committees in the city ’ s areas of province were staffed by elect councillors, who would make decisions about which services would be provided, to whom and how. These committees

were also charged with appointing municipal

department heads who would be creditworthy for rent of employees.

These positions on the water, light,

streets, works, and exile committees were highl

y coveted, given the capacity of these decisions to

affect councillors ’ economic and political fortunes. City

committees were used in numerous self-interested

ways. Where cities used individual utility companies to

supply water, electricity and transportation, councillors

could secure kickbacks from companies to whom

they would grant exclusive and decades-long contracts.

besides, herculean committee members could ensure their polonium

litical allies or relatives were appointed as city

officials and department heads, whose lease decisions could then be used to buttress political hold in working class wards.

95 28

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 56.

Gauvin, 17, 22.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 59.

Gauvin, 20.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 58.

Lenihan, 159.

With a lot work for municipal governments not reliant

on skill, political criteria could more easily be

used to determine who was hired. In this period, thousand

unicipal employment was often a reward for political

loyalty and separate of local political machines ’ strategies for “ getting the vote out. ”

Commissions of

investigation in both Montreal and Toronto revolutions per minute

ealed extensive patronage networks in most municipal

departments. In Montreal, it was well known triiodothyronine

hat both Mayors Préfontaine and Martin courted the

francophone working class with promises of public works jobs and projects in their communities.

It was

besides revealed that “ applicants for civil use paid aldermen for a fluent process of their requests. ”

Similarly, the Royal Commission investigating municipal misdeeds in 1909 found that

“ kickbacks were rampant in the fire department – and

specifically that an inordinate number of firemen

came from the town of St. Eloi, Quebec. ”

Between 1900 and 1915, Toronto had no less than six separate

investigations into municipal department practice

s, which revealed the kind of control department heads

had over employees as a consequence of the latter ’ south addiction on their discrimination for jobs. Toronto city employees were exploited for the individual profit of councillors and department heads, who used ‘ free ’ labor to build their own homes or to raise vegetables in city parks for their secret sale.

Smaller centres like

Calgary were not immune from such dealings. There thymine

he currency of favouritism was alcohol: with regular

payments of whiskey to the foreman, advantageous

employment assignments or overtime could be

secured.

In other words, city workers were much involv

ed in paternalist social relationships with their

department heads and direct supervisors, connected to

them via links of gratitude and dependency. Added

to this in many communities was an ethnic dimension : employer and employee were often ‘ countrymen ’ ,
96 34

H. Clare Pentland,

Labour and Capital in Canada, 1650-1860

(Toronto: James Lorimer &

Co., 1981), 25; see also Robert

Storey, “ Unionization Versus Corpor

ate Welfare: The Dofasco Way,”

Labour/Le Travailleur

12 (Fall 1983): 8.

Palmer, 41-2.

Palladino, 5, 10.

Greg Kealey, “The Honest Workingman and

Workers’ Control: The Experience of

Toronto Skilled Workers, 1860-1892,” in

canadian Working Class History

, eds. L.S MacDowell and I. Radforth (T

oronto: Canadian Scholars Press, 1992), 159.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 39.

connected via a shared inheritance which cut across authorit

y relations. These practices resembled the 19

hundred paternalism discussed by H. Clare Pentland in

that the promise of economic favours from those in

office elicited loyalty, deference and

consent to hierarchical relationships, while the threat of losing

discriminatory treatment was triiodothyronine

he coercive element which kept the system in place.

These practices made

organization amongst civil employees ve

ry difficult, for they worked to “undermine … the collectivity of the

oppressed by linking them to their social superiors. ”

skilled work, particularly at municipal utilities,

was performed under somewhat different conditions

and therefore produced stronger notions of collective identity. Electr

ical utility workers, especially outside

linemen responsible for stringing up electric wires, began as unskilled and ill-trained. however, they adopted a craft model of administration early on on. Organi

zing under the International Brotherhood of Electrical

Workers ( IBEW ), utility workers sought to increase standards

in their industry by raising the level of skill

and restricting entry into local labor markets.

Such strategies which aimed at monopolizing particular

skills were long the core of craft union ability and, as

Greg Kealey has shown, gave skilled workers a high

“ degree of … control condition of product. ”

The ownership structure of the i

ndustry was also important: utilities in

this period tended to be private companies. T

hose utilities that had begun or were being brought under

public management tended to be run by specialized authorities – appointed Boards or Public Utility Commissions – which existed at sleeve ’ mho duration from cities ’

political institutions. While not immune to political

influence, favoritism and other such practices,

hiring in both the private and commission-run utilities

tended to be less directly influenced by

patronage and political considerations.

This, combined with the

97 39

Palladino, 2, 23-5.

Ibid., 47. This identification of one’s work with the betterment

of humanity is a common and power

ful element in many crafts.

See the discussion in Kealey, “ The Honest

Workingman”, 173 of printers’ sense of

themselves as “the main carriers of

rationalism and the enlightenment ” for a alike sense of identity. 41

This preference for less disruptive forms of dispute resoluti

on like arbitration was prevalent

in North American electrical

unionism up to this point, and was a public relations

inciple enshrined in the IBEW’s cons

titution. Palladino, 10; Harold Logan,

Trade Unions in

Canada : Their Development and Functioning

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1948), 99.

Armstrong and Nelles, 1986: 245.

longstanding custom of craft unionism, resulted in wo

rkers being hired due to their skills, and served as a

basis for both craft pride and relative independence from management. The specific nature of utility work besides worked to

consolidate a collective i

dentity in important ways.

As Grace Palladino documents, outside linemen worked long hours in all kinds of weather putting up poles and stringing up “ hot ” high tension office lines,

and thus found themselves engaged in very dangerous

function. The senior high school pace of wound and death in the industr

y meant that “linemen relied on each other to see that

the job was done safely and competently ”, vitamin a well as field-grade officer

r disability and death benefits. Out of these material

conditions of shared danger and reciprocal dependence, thyroxine

hese workers thus produced a very cohesive,

solidaristic culture based on a “ fierce pride ” in their work.

This consciousness was not without its

contradictions, however. electrical workers were proud to be the agents of electrification, as they were thus separate of the march of build up and human liberation.

Insofar as the identification of electricity with progress

was an authoritative component in the elit

e vision of cities, electrical workers could be ideologically incorporated

into booster coalitions. Their sense of spell

ance to society and hence entitlement to safety and

recognition could be the basis for militant solidarity, but

it could also reinforce a service mentality which led

utility workers to prefer the conciliation process as southeast

t out in the 1907 Industrial Disputes Investigation Act

for the resoluteness of disputes.

The contradictions between a solidaristic and workerist culture and a public

service brain would become specially acuate as electrical utilities passed into public hands and the employer was nowadays the municipal taxpayer.

98 43

Gauvin, 23.

Ibid., 16.

Stephen High, “Planting the Municipal Ow

nership Idea in Port Arthur, 1875-1914,”

Urban History Review

26, no.1 (October

1997 ) : 12. 46

Armstrong and Nelles, 13-14; K.C. Dewar, “Private Electr

ical Utilities and Municipal Ow

nership in Ontario, 1891-1900,”

Urban

History Review

12, no.1 (June 1983): 31.

Whether skilled or unskilled, those involved in

the building and maintenance of urban infrastructure

had substantial interests in an ever-expanding city, and as such could be said to be subordinate members of the dominant allele ‘ booster ’ coalitions. Close material and

ideological ties to their employers fostered in many

places a very locally defined identity based more on “ community ” than on “ classify ”. The pro-growth agenda and the material interests

invested in it also produced counter-tendencies

which could affect the office of municipal workers and

their unions. Divisions within local elites emerged

during this period, not thus much over whether gr

owth should be pursued, but over who exactly should

benefit from it.

In other words, battles emerged over what

should be the exact nature of the relationship

between municipal government and private interests.

A movement for municipal reform emerged to

challenge the practices of the “ machine po

liticians” and the interests they served.

As such, municipal

workers were frequently caught in the middle of intra-e

lite disputes, and their status and working conditions

dramatically affected. Though much members of the capitalistic class them

selves, municipal reformers were critical of

particular capitalists turning themselves into monopo

lists at the expense of the rest of the business and

broader community. These monopolists were dis

paragingly known as ‘boodlers”, people “who personally

profited from public subsidies that had not benefited the community as a whole. ”

The private utility owners

were a especial target for anger, as their monopolistic

position in many communities allowed them to charge

“ exorbitant rates ”, provide less than ideal servic

e and engage in “cavalier treatment of customers.”

some communities like Port Arthur, private utilit

y entrepreneurs failed even to produce what they had been

contracted to build : “ numerous franchise agreements

… sometimes at considerable expense to ratepayers,

99 47

High, 12.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 37; Armstrong and Nelles, 156.

Armstrong and Nelles, 141.

H.V. Nelles,

The Politics of Development: Forests, Mines

and Hydro-electric Power in Ontario, 1849-1941

(Toronto: Macmillian

crush, 1974 ), 248-9. 51

Armstrong and Nelles, 190; Toronto ratepayers voted 15,048 to

4,551 in favour of setting up a municipally-owned utility,

signaling their “ conversion … to radical

civic populism” and the view that “only

public ownership could guarantee cheap, effi

cient

electric avail ” ( Armstrong and Nelles, 156 ). 52

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 61.

ended with about nothing to show for them. ”

Since manufacturers wanted cheap and plentiful electrical

power, they were consequently some of the most

ardent supporters of muni

cipalisation of utilities.

These

reformers posited a vision of the municipal state as alternating current

ting in the ‘general interest’, which they understood in

terms of the city ’ s duty to provide positive conditions of capital accumulation for all, not for specific group of capitalists. The Ontario Hydro Electric Power Commission ( HEPC ) was precisely the product of the civil populism and anti-monopolistic opinion

characteristic of the reform movement of the early 20

century.

The HEPC, created in 1906, was the result of a hawaii

ghly successful campaign for public ownership that

appealed both to occupation and the general populace led by London, Ontario manufacturer, Mayor and conservative MPP Adam Beck. Enveloped in a di

scourse which emphasized both industrial progress on

the footing of brassy power and social progress attributed to the capacity of electricity to improve urban live standards, the HEPC was in this period closely identif

ied with the “public interest”, particularly when

counterposed with the unscrupulous

private power companies.

The creation of the

Toronto Hydro-Electric

system in 1911 besides emerged out of a similar desire

to push the privately-owned and increasingly reviled

Toronto Electric Light Company.

Reformers besides struck at the boodlers ’ allies, the

machine politicians. For some members of the

business class, the putrescence at city hall was bec

oming both unseemly and too costly, as many of them

wanted command over the municipal agenda without havi

ng to the pay high cost of bribery or kickbacks.

100 53

Ibid., 63-4.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 65-68; Artibise,

Winnipeg

, 43.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 68-9.

Armstrong and Nelles, 241.

Reformers besides took aim at democrat ward politicians

, whose paternalist connections to the working class

were deemed creditworthy for the miss of good government.

Reformers sought the depoliticization of

service provision and entree to employment, and purs

ued structural reforms which would allow municipal

politics to operate more efficiently, like a occupation.

Common reform proposals were boards of control,

commissions of question into city administration,

particularly to disclose petty patronage and corruption,

reductions in the number of councillors or evening outri

ght elimination of ward

systems of representation.

possibly most important was the establishment

of independent and specialized boards or commissions,

whose members were appointed and activities carried out

at arm’s length from repr

esentative institutions.

These commissions were the foremost concrete move to

wards rule by experts, the bureaucratization of city

presidency and the subsequent Taylor

ization of municipal work. These “depoliticizing” changes were in

fact deeply political, frequently ( but not always ) radius

educing the influence of the working class (and the

citizenry in general ) on municipal government. however,

labelling city services as technical rather than

political issues could only wallpaper over and not remove underlying conflicts around their distribution and the working conditions of those who provided them. Workers in these sectors were sometimes part

of these reform coalitions, sometimes neutral,

sometimes the targets and therefore opponents. Some, like

the employees of private utilities, were “among

the most ardent advocates ” of the thousand

unicipalisation of services; for them, “[o]nly complete replacement of

secret restraint … would ensure fair discussion of thyroxine

he public users as well as proper justice to the public

servants. ”

Other workers saw in the reform project the chance to democratize city hall and expand

working class charm over council. P.H. Wichern argues that parturiency aldermen in Winnipeg supported “ effective government reform ”, which concretely m

eant proportional represent

ation and improved fiscal

101 57

P.H. Wichern, “Historical Influences on Cont

emporary Local Politics: The Case of Winnipeg,”

Urban History Review

12, no. 1

( June 1983 ) : 40. 58

H.V. Nelles and C. Armstrong, “The Great Fight for Clean Government”, in

Urban History Review

2 (October 1976), 53, 55.

Armstrong and Nelles, 151.

Nelles and Armstrong, 51.

Gauvin, 20-1.

Gauvin, 21.

Armstrong and Nelles, 160-1.

management at city hall.

Saint John workers also supported

the commission system of government,

characterized by a smaller issue of elected official

s elected at large, which allowed the concentration of

the wage-earning vote behind labor candidates.

In other words, where reform took the shape of civic

populism, it produced “ a alliance that could cross

class lines and link up those who sought to democratize

local government with those who wanted centrum

lized administration performed with businesslike

efficiency. ”

However, this attempt “to accommodate potent

ially contradictory objectives” made reform

coalitions unpredictable and full of likely for conflict.

however, in places where reformers focussed on the reduction of the baron of what they viewed as a selfish and short-sighted working class operati

ng politically through the machine system, workers’

leaders vehemently opposed them.

The leader of the Montreal

Trades and Labour Council, for instance,

opposed the establishment of a Board of Control as “ a pl

ot of capitalists and corporations” seeking to shift

trade back into the hands of the Anglo elite.

As Armstrong and Nelles point out, the Francophone

democrat – and boodling – politicians were “ perceived as more responsive ” to their wage-earning constituents, while the “ english-speaking reformers

offended French-Canadian ward politicians with their

assumptions of automatic rifle superiority. ” As a consequence of

the interplay of class and ethnicity, Montreal municipal

workers specifically and the exercise classes more generally, were never separate of reform politics.

In other words, the contradictions of uni

mpeded urban growth were experienced by municipal

workers themselves, and made their political alignments

unstable. As municipal workers, they “produced

city life sentence ” and thus had an interest in sustaining gr

owth and expansion. However, as members of the

102 64

Johnston, 23.

Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 39; Johnston, 15.

working class, they besides had to live in the elit

e-defined and decidedly inegalitarian urban space they helped

to create.

In other words, there was a growing conflic

t between “boosterism” and social welfare, or as

Paul Johnston puts it, between economic growth

and collective consumption, a conflict embodied by

municipal workers themselves.

These tensions had the potential to

disrupt the paternalist relationships

between employer and employee. Another set of tensions was implicit in in the use of favoritism as a method acting of social control. As in any arrangement of discriminatory treatment,

for there to be winners there must also be losers. That is, not every

municipal employee could benefit equally from the

systems of favouritism: someone had to be on the

bottom in these workplace hierarchies. These hierarchies found themselves under increasing press as the necessitate for employees grew and the capacity to control bombastic groups of workers via personal ties diminished. such systems besides created a constituen

cy for reform of city administration amongst civic

workers themselves. ultimately, municipal workers were part of cross-cl

ass coalitions (whether for growth or reform), but

as dependent members whose interests would onl

y ever be partially addressed. As economic and

political conditions changed, the capacity to accommodate

municipal workers within these coalitions would

not constantly be sustainable, and their interests would most

likely be the first jettisoned. In other words, the

basis for battle ballad within the nature of the relati

onship between municipal workers and their elite “allies”.

These tensions can be most distinctly observed in the vitamin c

onflicts which emerged within reform coalitions due to

the rotation in city administration. The substitute

equent bureaucratization of civic structures meant the

breakdown of paternalist sociable relations and system

s of advantage. While this reduced preferential

treatment and condescension, now

all

workers were to be administered efficiently as inputs of the production

procedure. In other words, reform meant the creati

on of common conditions and experiences of employment,

103 66

Logan, 60.

peculiarly when fiscal restraint was imposed, which ac

ted as a unifying force. These new conditions also

required collective rather than person strategies to

protect workers’ positions and spawned the first wave

unionization of municipal workers. II.

Municipal Workers in a Divided Labour Movement

The effects of corporate concentration and conti

nentalization in the pr

ivate sector between 1890

and the 1920s besides exacerbated conflicts within the broader north american labor

movement itself over

the allow forms of unionism, conflicts which were to have their affect on the form to be taken by municipal proletarian unionism. There was in this peri

od a general growth in tensions between Canadian craft

coupling locals and their US-based drumhead offices. Municipal

and electrical utility workers had to find their place

within these struggles over organizational model,

national independence, and the location of the legitimate

democratic community of workers. Since the Trades and Labor Congress ’ 1902 Berlin

convention, the mainstream of the Canadian

labor movement had institutionaliz

ed the preeminence of the American Federation of Labor and its brand

of unionism. TLC-affiliated unions had to be organized

according to craft and affiliated to the appropriate

external union in their jurisdiction ; canadian uni

ons operating in the jurisdictions of US-based unions

were not to be chartered by the TLC and were deemed to be engaged in the cardinal sin of ‘ double unionism ’.

‘Dual unionism’ refers to the setting up of alte

rnative union structures in a jurisdiction where

already-established unions are organizing workers. This

“doctrine of solidarity”

was part of AFL president

Samuel Gompers ’ approach to unionism, which equat

ed labour solidarity with support for already-

established unions, regardless of their practices or polonium

litics. In general, “dual unionism” was used as a term

of defamation to designate newcomers as unsolidaristic

“splitters” and used as a justification to expel or

104 67

Ibid., 366-369. The Knights of Labor, the Industrial Workers of the World, the One Big Union, the Communist Party of Canada’s

Workers ’ Unity League, and the Congress of Industrial Organi

zations all emerged as ‘dual unions’ in this sense.

Ibid., 367.

Palmer, 168; Robert Babcock,

Gompers in Canada: A Study in American C

ontinentalism Before the First World War

(Toronto:

University of Toronto Press, 1974 ), 73. 70

Babcock, 96-7.

exclude them from labor federations.

Harold Logan characterised this scheme as “ conservative in the inhibitory sense, since it operates through prohibition of progressive challengers rather than through superiority of appeal for membership. ”

In the Canadian context, the Quebec-based remnants of the Knights of Labor who endured after the administration ’ s continent-wide collapse, as we

ll as those who had formed Canadian-based equivalents

to the US-based craft unions, posed a trouble to

AFL leaders aiming to establish a monopoly over

continental labor markets so as to ma

tch the reach of continental employers.

The Berlin Congress

permitted the expulsion of these competit

ors, comprising a fifth of the TLC’s affiliates, and specifically those

who continued to support both an industrial ( and

more encompassing) model of organization and

independent canadian unionism. These sections subsequently refused to be assimilated into a US- dominated labor apparent motion, nourish canadian nationalis

m amongst a section of the working class, and

provided an organizational home for the growing numbers of canadian members dissatisfied with the AFL ’ mho mark of labor internationality.

For those workers who remained within the bury

nationals, tensions soon emerged over the next 20

years over both the kind of unionism most appropriate

for the Canadian context and the share of decision-

making autonomy and control owed canadian workers, gi

ven their status as citizens of an independent

country. In that sense, growing nationalist south

entiment amongst Canadian workers was in some way

connected to notions of coupling democracy and the contours

of the legitimate democratic community. In this

period, many canadian locals of external unions

grew to resent their subordinate status and the

american leadership ’ s ignorance of and disinterest

in the specificities of the Canadian economic and

105 71

Ibid., 78.

Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 32.

Palmer, 160.

Babcock, 111.

John Crispo,

International Unionism: a Study

in Canadian-American Relations

(Toronto: McGraw Hill, 1967), 154.

Palmer, 160-61.

political setting. As Babcock puts it, many “ chafed under

the new restrictions that devolved from their

affiliation with international union headquarters, … res

ented the high level of dues, and feared that their

hard-earned money would be squandered or

misspent by union officials.”

These ‘new restrictions’ and

higher dues were separate of the development of the missouri

re centralized and bureaucratic model of “business

unionism ” in which “ featured … more full-time official

s and organizers, greater centralization of power over

fall funds and benefit plans, and stern

lines of demarcation around the crafts.”

Gompers’ aim here

was to create organizations that could compete in terms of scale and resources with corporate giants that were coming to dominate the canadian and american economies.

canadian unionists were besides incensed by Gompers ’ and the AFL ’ s attention to “ [

o]nly those elements in Canadian industrial life which

parallel conditions in the United States ”, and the

presumption that a common strategy without regional

variations was allow for the

entire continental labour market.

While such tensions between local or

regional units and home headquarter no doubt emerged in

the US as well, the confluence of conflicts

over master with canadian nationalism served to fuel secession movements in many internationals.

There were besides many outside established craft uni

on structures who were increasingly critical of

their exclusionary approach to unionism and their resu

ltant inability to organize the new categories of

workers being generated by monopoly capitalism. The concentration of corporate power which fuelled the urban boom was besides part of a broader shift in the field-grade officer

rm of capital accumulation. The reorganization and

deskilling of work in order to increase labor productivity was breaking down crafts and creating exchangeable workers with identical little bargaining office.

These workers would certainly not be able to

use the chief strategy of craft unionism – control over

the labour market in particular skills – to any effect.

106 77

Craig Heron, “The Crisis of the Craftsm

an: Hamilton’s Metal Workers in the Early 20

Century,”

Labour / Le Travail

6 (Autumn

1980 ) : 7-48 ; Gillian Creese, “ Exclusion or

Solidarity? Vancouver Workers Conf

ront the ‘Oriental Problem’,” in

Canadian Working

Class History

, eds. L.S MacDowell and I. RADFORTH (Tor

onto: Canadian Scholars Press, 1992), 314-17.

Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 36.

Mark Leier,

Where the Fraser River Flows:

The Industrial Workers of the World in British Columbia

(Vancouver: New Star

Books, 1990 ), 13. 80

Babcock, 154; Palmer, 252; David Berc

uson, “The Winnipeg General Strike,” in

On Strike: Six Key Labour Struggles in

Canada, 1919-1949

, ed. I. Abella (Toronto: James Lorimer and Co., 1975), 6.

Leier,

Where the Fraser River Flows

, 1.

James Naylor, “Southern Ontario: Striking at the Ballot Box,” in

The Workers’ Revolt in Canada, 1917-1925

, ed. C. Heron

( Toronto : University of Toronto, 1998 ), 149. however, quite than rethink the basis of uni

on power and develop broader, more flexible types of

organization, the mainstream labor

movement retrenched in a defensive attempt to maintain their craft

exponent against the deluge of unskilled and often immi

grant workers being brought into the production

summons.

In many canadian communities, however, both those within and outside the craft unions began to develop industrial unions with the potential to deal

with these new working conditions. Many labour

historians now argue that a combination of particula

r types of industry and distinctive regional political

economies combined to create constituencies for

industrial unionism in Eastern and Western Canada.

These communities faced “ aggressive corporate

employers” who brought

together large numbers of

workers, but in a context which was both ant

i-union and rapidly undermining and reorganizing the skill

content of work.

Added to these conditions was the growing sense that, in many communities, a strict

craft union scheme did not make as much sense due

to the relatively smaller industrial base, and the

fragmentation in bargaining ability and solidarity that would follow from dividing workers up by jurisdiction.

therefore, as the Second Industrial Revolution progressed, many canadian workers began to desire and employment towards “ a labor administration that w

ould respond to modern industrial conditions.”

In light of these dangerous conflicts, the condition of

municipal workers was not at all clear to anyone.

Where did municipal workers fit into the labor movem

ent? What kinds of organizations were most suited

107 83

Craig Heron and Myer Siemiat

ycki, “The Great War, the State, and Working-Class Canada,” in

The Workers’ Revolt in Canada,

1917-1925

, ed. C. HERON (Toronto: University of Toronto, 1998), 19.

Naylor, “Southern Ontario,” 147.

Greg Kealey, “State Repression of Labour and the Left in

Canada, 1914-1920: The Impact of the First World War,”

Canadian

Historical Review

73 no. 3 (1992), 306; Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 48.

to them ? Those who were skilled workers could be mo

re readily accommodated by already-existing craft

structures, but those many others

who were labourers were not seen as

‘respectable’ union men by craft

unions. All were employees of local governments whic

h diminished the rationale for international unionism.

Others were workers in culture medium to little communities

for whom craft divisions made little sense and only

served to fragment bargaining power. In all, there we

re no clear answers. However, these considerations

would not take concrete form until municipal actor

s actually organized into durable unions, a situation not

realized until the attack of the First World War. III.

World War One and the Emergence of Municipal and Hydro Unionism

urbanization, bodied concentration, civic boosterism, expansion of city services and employment, movements for municipal reform and praseodymium

ofessionalization of city administration, and debates

about union forms : these distinct but related processes ca

me together in the crucible of the First World War

and the subsequent “ labor rebellion ”. War production

and the numbers of men fighting overseas ended the

depression of 1913-14 and led a heightened demand for tug

which was increasingly in short supply.

These labour grocery store conditions gave canadian employment

ers “a new confidence” and an improved standard of

living for a brief meter, and allowed many former

ly unorganisable groups – like municipal workers – to

unionize and educe

de facto

union recognition from previously impervious employers.

In this period,

municipal workers were among those organizing unions “ at a stagger rate. ”

Indeed, the spread of

unionization to sectors like municipal study in which it was previously “ unthinkable ” was an indication of the extent and earnestness of the labor revolt.

For municipal administrations unused to negotiations and

108 86

J. Rouillard,

Histoire du syndicalism au Quebec: des origines à nos jours

(Montreal: Boréal, 1989), 149.

Bercuson, “The Winnipeg General Strike,” 4. This figure is based on data published monthly by the

Labour Gazette

Heron and Siemiatycki, 20.

Palmer, 166; Weaver,

Shaping the Canadian City

, 26-7.

Bercuson, “The Winnipeg General St

rike,” 4; Heron and Siematycki, 21.

Greg Kealey, “1919: The Canadian Labour Revolt,”

Labour/Le Travail

13 (Spring 1984): 41-2.

Heron and Siemiatycki, 33-4.

Rouillard, 148.

accustomed to undisputed and unilateral authority over

their employees, unionization was both a shock

and an diss.

As a solution, most of these early municipal locals faced enormous opposition and had to strike for courtly realization and a first contract.

In other words, they were pushed into militancy.

For most municipal workers, it was the economic

effects of the war, namely inflation, which

provided the spark for unionization. between 1914

and 1919, the cost of living rose between 50-75%.

December 1918, the propertyless “ family budget had leaped by 46 per cent over the 1916 level and, at the bill of the inflationary coiling in July 1920, by 82 per cent. ”

This spike continued a longer-term trend which

had commenced at the begin of Canada ’ second urban boom.

With the exception of those skilled trades in

high requirement in war-related industries, the huge majori

ty of workers were unable to keep pace with rising

prices.

As Kealey argues, the “inter-related issues of inflation, the cost of liv

ing, and war profiteering”

served to unite workers in a common oppositional proj

ect in ways that “the more limited workplace battles

sometimes failed to. ”

Public sector workers were amongst those “ par

ticularly victimized” by wartime inflation:

governments at all levels were specially bang-up to exercise engage chasteness as a room to deal with wartime expenditures and as an example to the secret sector.

This fiscal conservatism was not recent, either:

some groups of municipal workers, like those in

Montreal, had not received an increase for over ten

years.

However, the labour shortage provided these wo

rkers with more bargaining power than they had

previously possessed, and a total of the municipal

locals were forged in strikes over wages and

protection against ostentation. How municipal workers

used this bargaining power was important in terms of

109 94

Labour Gazette

, June 1913: 1419. Both parties accepted an arbitr

ated settlement on July 9, 1913, which included wage

increases, paid holidays, a nine-hour day,

and no discrimination agai

nst union members (

Labour Gazette

, August 1913: 186-7).

E.M. Ashworth,

Toronto Hydro Recollections

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1955), 48.

Armstrong and Nelles, 246.

Labour Gazette

, July 1919: 773; Armstrong and Nelles, 246.

Armstrong and Nelles, 246.

what it said about the setting for their classify identity and

their relationship to the broader community over the

longer condition. Workers at the Toronto Hydro-Electric System

, organized at this time by Local 353 of the

International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers,

demonstrated a marked wage militancy and made liberal

and reproducible consumption of the conciliation provisions of the

Industrial Disputes Investigation Act. This militancy

began in May 1914 with their beginning 2-day come to over w

hether workers would receive a 5-cent or 8-cent per

hour increase.

Throughout the war, these utility workers pressed for further increases to keep pace with

ostentation. In fall of 1915, the workers struck again to enforce a 5 % addition awarded them by an IDIA placation board but refused by the Commissioners.

The ability of the Commission to keep the power

going ended the three-week strike without gains, but in May 1916 the Commission raised wages by 5 % – which had been the placation board ’ s master award in any character.

In 1917, Toronto Hydro agreed to a

farther 5 % increase and a 5 % “ special wartime bonus ” to

“help employees cope with inflation” and “dampen

growing discontented. ”

By 1919, however, the Commission began to resist workers’ demands for a

reduction in the work week and for the conversion of

wartime bonuses into a permanent part of the wage.

rather of contact, however, the Toronto Hydro proletarian

s again used the Industrial Disputes Investigation Act

to secure a 15 % increase.

Armstrong and Nelles report that, as a resu

lt, linemen ’ randomness wages “ about treble [ vitamin d ] ” in the beginning ten of the municipal utility, “ from 27

7/9

cents to 78 cents per hour”.

This “wartime

aggressiveness ” was reflected in the utility sector more

generally: with a higher strike rate than the rest of

110 99

Ibid., 220.

100

This conflict will be discussed in more detail below.

101

James Naylor, “Toronto 1919,” in Canadian Historical Association

Historical Papers

(1986): 36-7;

Labour Gazette

, August

1913 : 612. 102

Naylor, “Toronto 1919″, 36-7;

Labour Gazette

, May 1918: 323.

103

Thomas, 23.

104

Geoffrey Ewen, “Quebec: Class and Ethnicity,” in

The Workers’ Revolt in Canada, 1917-1925

, ed. C. HERON (Toronto:

University of Toronto, 1998 ), 102. canadian industry between 1916-20, utility workers were

able to “stay slightly ahead of inflation” and

maintain these gains through the early 1920s.

Locals of civic workers besides pursued engage increases to

cope with war-time inflat

ion. Strikes of civic

workers in 1918-19 all concerned wage increases, in

flation and the question of whether wartime bonuses

would be integrated into post-war engage schedules

or would be rolled back. Winnipeg civic workers’

demands in April-May 1918 initially concern

the sufficiency of wages and wartime bonuses.

100

The

Toronto Civic Employees ’ Union No. 43, representi

ng nearly 1500 of the city’s 3000 labourers by July of

1918, went on a six-day strike over

the “entirely inadequate” anti-inflation war bonus they were receiving

and the city ’ s failure to make the increase retroactive.

101

The threat of a sympathy strike conducted by the

Toronto District Labour Council led city council to

accept an arbitrated settlement, a process they had

previously refused, in which about all the strikers ’ demands were met.

102

Hamilton civic workers, who had

organized in 1918, took a slightly different steer

ion and went on a successful strike in May 1919 for an

8-hour sidereal day for 9-hours pay.

103

other municipal workers were able to take adv

antage of wartime conditions to confront the

reorganization of municipal use

initiated by civic reformers.

Opposition to the implementation of

more “ effective ” and business-like local government formed

the context of the 1918 strike of Montreal civic

workers, police and firemen, and of water company use

ees in 1919, which were ostensibly about increased

wages and shorter working hours.

104

A reform coalition aiming to rationalize city administration and end

corruption and trade had won political restraint of

the city council in 1910. However, “business-like

111 105

Gauvin, 21-2.

106

Gauvin, 23; Wichern, 40.

107

Gauvin, 23; Ewen, 102.

108

Rouillard, 148.

109

Ewen, 101-2.

government ” did not lead to reduced expenditures or

an end to kickbacks. Rather, annexations and urban

growth continued, every city department had increased

expenditures, and public works projects like paving

were merely “ shifted … away from the eastern [ F

rancophone and working-class] wards to the more affluent

western wards. ”

105

These actions served to polarize the city further along class and ethnic lines. By the

depression of 1913-14, the affect of heavy municipal debt lode was catching up here, as it was elsewhere.

106

In 1918, after six years of the council back in the hands of the populists, the provincial

government appointed an administrative Commission to r

un the city in light of the financial problems

caused by former administrations of both reformers and populists. This Commission, less tied to the wards and city politics and advised by “ efficiency experts ”,

dealt with Montreal’s deficit by unilaterally “firing

excess employees ”, introducing a municipal civic service committee, redefining job descriptions, assignments and lines of assurance, and freezing salaries at a time of continuing eminent inflation.

107

They also

refused to negotiate with the unions ’ representatives.

108

In a context in where “French-Canadian workers …

expected to use their political pull to exert greater in

fluence over the allocation of jobs and services at the

municipal level ”, such moves were seen as undemocratic, tied to the class interests of the English- canadian bankers who held the city ’ south debt, and provoked

an outpouring of hostility. Overt class and ethnic

divisions informed this hit, and led municipal actor

s to broader organizational forms of solidarity in the

guise of “ a common front of patrol, firemen,

waterworks, engineers, and incinerator workers.”

109

other municipal workers ’ struggles were similarly politicized, but in ways that were more directly connected to the mean of the First World War and metric ton

he content of the “democratic values” for which

workers were exhorted to sacrifice. The level of rhenium

sistance to municipal worker unionism in many places

112 110

Pringle, 15.

111

David Bercuson,

Confrontation at Winnipeg: Labour, Industr

ial Relations, and the General Strike

. Rev. ed. (Montreal /

Kingston : McGill-Queen ’ south University Press,

1990), 58; Pringle, 17-18. The

participation of office workers is singular for this

time period. 112

Bercuson, “The Winnipeg General Strike,” 6.

113

Bercuson, “The Winnipeg General Strike,” 6; Bercuson,

Confrontation at Winnipeg

, 60.

raised the question of whether workers ’ right to union

recognition and to strike would be accepted as a part

of democratic citizenship. such questions were parti

cularly acute in the case of public employees, who

seemed to threaten the sovereignty of the democ

ratically elected governments who happened to be their

employers. The politicization of these conflicts by

city councils resulted in broader responses from local

labor movements. The Winnipeg municipal workers ’ strike of 1918 is

illustrative of this dynamic. In 1917, nearly 600

workers joined the Federation of Civic Employees, red brigades

inging together a wide array of employee groups, male

and female, from all departments, into one arrangement.

110

In 1918, the city’s teamsters, electrical workers,

water company employees, and agency workers ( alongside other

unions of electricians and firefighters) jointly

demanded engage increases, but rejected the city ’ s response – a bonus of two dollars a week “ designed to tide their employees over until peacetime ” and to av

oid “freez[ing] inflated wartime pay scales at an

artificially senior high school level. ”

111

However, the city’s business and political elite and local press were quick to turn a

“ straight dollars-and-cents write out ” into a political dispute over civil employees ’ right to strike.

112

A settlement worked out between the unions and a council sub-committee was scuttled by the full council through their inclusion of the “ Fowler Amendment ”, named after it

s sponsoring alderman. This amendment would have

“ all civil employees undertake to pledge that they would

not strike at all in future but would have their

grievances settled by arbitration ”, and was s

upported by the Board of

Trade and the Winnipeg Free

Press.

113

As Mitchell and Naylor point out, “[i]n the cont

ext of a war being fought ostensibly for democracy,

the refusal of the state to allow a group of workers

the right to participate in determining their own future

113 114

Tom Mitchell and James Naylor, “The Prai

ries: In the Eye of the Storm,” in

The Workers’ Revolt in Canada, 1917-1925

, ed. C.

Heron ( Toronto : University

of Toronto Press, 1998), 180.

115

Bercuson,

Confrontation at Winnipeg

, 60-1.

116

Bercuson,

Confrontation at Winnipeg

, 67; Bercuson, “The Winnipeg General

Strike,” 7; Mitchell and Naylor, 180.

117

David Bright,

The Limits of Labour: Class Formation

and the Labour Movement in Calgary

(Vancouver: UBC Press, 1998),

111-2. 118

Lenihan, 161; Mitchell and Naylor, 191.

119

Mitchell and Naylor, 200.

reeked of autocratic rule. ”

114

This “ undertake to put out a burn with a shower of gasoline ” mobilized the entire Winnipeg labour movement into a cosmopolitan sympathy

strike around a question of trade union principle.

115

The strikers ’ victory after ten-spot days demonstrated the

practical importance of br

oader forms of solidarity:

while the city had been able to keep the urine, prisoner of war

er and light departments running with ‘volunteers’,

participation in the strike of between fourteen

and seventeen thousand workers in public transportation,

telephone military service, displace stations, and railroad track sustenance,

among others, turned the tables in favour of the

municipal workers in Winnipeg.

116

This leave civil workers to be heavy involved in the Winnipeg General strike one year former. other canadian municipal workers were besides hundred

onfronting the fiscal restraint and autocratic

management style of city councils. The Calgary Feder

ation of Civic Employees, assisted by the local

trades and tug council, emerged between 1913-15 in res

ponse to a series of wage cuts, but also the

“ hob-nailed heel of dictatorship ” which characteri

zed the city’s approach to labour relations.

117

The local of

labourers was formally established by 1917, and was on strike in 1918 for union recognition.

118

On the other hand, many municipal workers ’ gr

oups were at best ambivalent and halfhearted in

their subscribe for the Winnipeg General Strike and other localized sympathy strikes of the menstruation. The position taken by populace employees in these strikes was

important, as they were often more visible to the

community ; the secession of their participation was

conspicuous and gave the impression that the dispute

was over.

119

Civic workers in Edmonton and Regina jo

ined sympathy strikes supporting the Winnipeggers,

114 120

Kealey, “1919,” 30; Mitchell and Naylor, 200.

121

Thomas, 23-4.

122

Naylor, “Toronto 1919,” 47; Kealey, “1919,” 28.

123

Mitchell and Naylor, 199.

124

Bright, 149.

125

Conley, 22, 20.

but returned early on as the strike “ was abandoned … as a doomed campaign. ”

120

Hamilton civic workers began their

mint on the lapp day as the Winnipeg General Stri

ke, but there was no indication that their efforts

contained any sympathy for the Winnipeg workers, particu

larly as they returned to work after two days and

upon settlement of their own quarrel.

121

Though Toronto civic workers officially backed a general strike

supporting the local metallic trades council in May 1919, t

hey chose to remain on the job until their contract

expired on June 16

, by which time the strike had already been called off.

122

Calgary civic workers were

similarly ambivalent in their support for workers who were not companion members. While they participated in October 1918 sympathy hit supporting Calgary cargo

handlers, eight months later they “opted not to

wager their newly achieved corporate

agreement” on the Winnipeg General Strike.

123

Bright even throws

doubt on the exuberance of the civil workers for parti

cipation in the 1918 sympathy strike: while they may

have voted in privilege of the legal action, they were not amongs

t the first to walk out. In fact, Bright implies the

public works and outside workers had to be

ordered off the job by their leaders.

124

Finally, Vancouver civil employees joined the sympathetic strike there and evening

voted to join the One Big Union in the spring of

1919, but were besides conflicted. The 250 permanent

construction workers “became preoccupied with

conservation of their longevity rights ” and reversed t

heir decision to join the OBU once the Winnipeg strike

had failed.

125

municipal workers in this period were therefor

e reaching towards broader forms of identification,

but remained limited in their drill of solidarity and

the risks they would take for other workers. These

workers were, as Kealey argues, part of a national

labour revolt and a heightening of working-class

awareness that was a answer to both the Firs

t World War and the “underlying structural changes in

115 126

Kealey, “1919,” 15-6.

127

Ibid., 39.

128

Naylor, “Toronto 1919,” 52.

capitalistic organization. ”

126

As well, the addition of municipal workers ( and public employees more generally ) to the ranks of the organized work class contribut

ed to the intensification

of labour-management conflict

during and after the war.

127

However, the concrete decisions of civic workers in the period indicate just how

uneven this burgeoning class consciousness and feel with trade unionism was in practice. nowadays added to the paternalist pull of municipal employers and

the mentality of public service was the desire to

protect hard-won contractual gains for the contiguous residential district of workers. This should not be taken as evidence of a lack of combativeness ; alternatively, as Naylor ar

gues, “[t]he struggle to establish a degree of protection

in the workplace through the mechanism of systeme international d’unites

gned agreements had proved so labourious that, once

established, the holiness of the contract had

become the guiding principle of their unionism.”

128

In other

words, the exercise of corporate bargain was

serving to shape the consciousness and identities of

municipal workers from their first foray into trade unionism. municipal workers came out of the First World Wa

r arrayed in two main organizational forms which

uncover something about the oscilloscope of identity and bunco

sciousness at this point. An important connection

existed between the types of constitution created and deoxythymidine monophosphate

he types of strikes fought during and after the war.

Those workers engaged in more overtly politicized st

rikes or who had been affiliated to US-based craft

unions tended to create broader-based unions based on

the industrial model and reaching towards a

national structure, although in reality these remai

ned regionally bounded. Those whose strikes were more

economistic tended to remain independent locals, calculate

ly chartered to the Trades and Labor Congress and

within the scope of international trade unionism. T

hese two main organizational forms imprinted each group

of municipal unions with discrete characteristics .
116 129

Logan, 96-7.

130

A.M. Barnetson, “A Brief History of the CETU,” 1965: 1.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 13]

131

Barnetson, 2.

In the immediate post-war menstruation, some electric

workers in the public sector became increasingly

anxious to break free of the constraints of chromium

aft unionism as defined by US-based unions like the

International Brotherhood of electrical Workers ( I

BEW). Rejecting the fragmentation which came with

narrowly define crafts, populace sector electric work

ers in the Toronto area were turning to industrial

organizing. These workers were besides opposed to the centralization of control in the US headquarters of the internationals, and were theref

ore part of a current of independent

Canadian unionism. They translated

these commitments into the formation of the Canadi

an Electrical Trade Union (CETU) in 1921 as well as

affiliation to the hyper-nationalist canadian Federation of Labour. The core of CETU was formed in September 1921 by 1200 Toronto-area electrical workers breaking away from the IBEW ’ s local 353. The IBEW

itself was riven with internal tensions: while

apparently a craft constitution, the Brotherhood in fact encompassed many different occupational groups linked to the production and transmission of electricity,

introducing a basis for factionalism within the union.

however, it appears that “ antagonistic social philosophies ”, a “ disfavor of international unionism ”, and the “ personal ambition of local anesthetic lambert

eaders” also informed the split.

129

Conflicts in IBEW Local 353 over the

allow model of unionism and the question of who should decide such things came to a drumhead in 1919, when a successful organizing political campaign amongst munici

pal hydro and electrical workers was undermined

by the International Office ’ s imperativeness that a lot of the newly organized membership be transferred to other craft unions. Sections of the Toronto

membership “vigorously opposed” this directive.

130

This

discontented was exacerbated by “ continued raids on thymine

he local treasury along with constant levies and

assessments from head office in the USA … due to st

rikes and lock-outs of members over in the USA.”

131

As a consequence of the perception that association wisconsin

th the American headquarters was more drain than support,

117 132

International Brotherhood of El

ectrical Workers, “History Local 353 Toronto,

” n.d., online at http://www.ibew353.org/ourprofil

history353.htm. local 353 was established in 1903 and continues

to exist, representing electric

al workers in the private

construction industry in Toronto. While the

IBEW’s website does not expl

ain the meaning of the term “canaries”, it may simply b

a play on “ Canadian ”, as those interest in

purely national unionism. There may be

an additional implication that these were

“ flighty ” or unreliable members. Ironi

cally, however, the canary has a specific

symbolic meaning in Canadian union lore: the b

irds

were brought into mines to warn the workers when there was no oxygen left. Were these ‘ canaries ’ signalling that there was no ‘ oxygen ’ left in IBEW Local 353 ? 133

Barnetson, 2.

134

The Canadian Federation of

Labour (1902-1927) is not to be confused with the Canadian Federati

on of Labour (1981-1998),

which consisted of affiliates of the international construction

trades unions who left the CLC ov

er the question of national autono

( Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 174; see Laxer for details of this conflict and CUPE’s role in it).

135

Barnetson, 3; Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 174-75.

all but about 35 of Local 353 ‘s membership left “ to join up

in what the [IBEW] old-timers now refer to as the

‘ Canaries ’. ”

132

The new CETU Local 1 in Toronto included out

side linemen from Toronto Hydro, the Toronto

Transit Commission, and Bell Telephone. A.M. Barnetson, a establish member of Local 1 and later National President of NOCUEW, believed that

CETU represented the first group of electrical workers in Canada

organized along the lines of industrial unionism.

133

Electrical utility worker

s from outside the Toronto area

were drawn to this approach to unionism, and were given moral confirm to set up locals in their own communities. In the absence of a rightfully national constitution in

the electrical utility sector, CETU Local 1 and

early active locals were affiliated in the interim to the canadian Federation of Labour ( CFL ),

134

which

consisted of the remnants of the Knights of

Labour and other independent national unions competing with

AFL affiliates and expelled from the Trades and Labor Congress in 1902.

135

We can infer something of

CETU ’ sulfur orientation from their membership in this

organization, although a definitive assessment is difficult

given the building complex grizzle of clashing ideas which coex

isted within the CFL. The breakaway Federation was

actively hostile to international unions, and associated me

mbership in them with a lack of patriotism. Like

CETU, members of the CFL had experienced international

unionism as an “autocratic” form of “foreign

118 136

Logan, 376; Charles Lipton,

The Trade Union Movement of Canada, 1827-1959

(Toronto: NC Press, 1966), 146. Lipton goes

therefore far as to suggest the CFL ’ s positi

on reflected a certain anti-imperialism.

137

Logan, 375, 379.

138

Ibid., 375-6.

139

Cripso, 154.

140

Lipton, 147.

141

Namely Local 1 Toronto Hydro, Local 2 Toronto Transit Commission, Local 8 York Township Hydro, and Local 11 North York

Hydro. domination ” which risked subordinating the intere

sts of Canadian workers to those from the US.

136

Personal

and bitter experiences with the internationals had informed this view, and while such grievances were not enough to generate a groundswell of confrontation to international

unionism, it did sustain the hard core of the

CFL ’ s membership.

137

The arrangement aimed to replace bury

nationals by bringing all labour organizations

in Canada together in national unions. Their motto, “ Canada for Canadians ”, signalled both a desire for independence and local control, but besides for the exclus

ion of “foreign workers”, particularly Americans,

seeking “ to replace [ Canadians ] in the production activities which should be [ theirs ]. ”

138

The CFL’s

nationalism led to an advocacy of protectionist

tariffs against imported American goods, and government

and employer recognition of canadian unions only. Their opposition to the american Federation of Labour gave them common campaign with the political elite and the canadian Manufacturers ’ Association ( CMA ), who themselves denounced the internationals ’ organizers as “ extraneous agitators ”.

139

Some argue that the CFL

was therefore led into classify collaboration, evidenced by

their alliance with the CMA and their support for the

application and extension of the IDIA and conciliation

in general as a method of resolving industrial

disputes.

140

After losing closely half of its membership in 1922 to a Bell Telephone Employees Association set astir by the employer, CETU Local 1 finally joined

with other public utility electrical workers across

Canada in July 1924 at a meet in Niagara Falls to

found the National Union of the CETU. Delegates

from CETU locals and independent unions attended from Toronto,

141

Hamilton, Niagara Falls, London,

Cambellford, Kingston, Belleville, Perth, Ottawa,

Montreal, Trois Rivieres, Winnipeg, Regina, Calgary,

119 142

Barnetson, 3.

143

Barnetson, 4.

144

Barnetson, 5.

145

Armstrong and Nelles, 219.

Edmonton and Vancouver.

142

The convention endorsed a Constitution and elected a nine-person

executive, including a Secretary-Tr

easurer to be paid by head office and district representatives from

Quebec, Ontario, Manitoba, Alberta and British Columbia.

143

Despite ostensible national representation,

however, the core of CETU continued to be local 1 at

Toronto Hydro. On the basis of this ‘national’

union, and despite the unfavorable economic and legislat

ive climate, CETU locals did make progress.

indeed, Barnetson claims that the accomplishment of such benefits as “ vacations, paid holidays, accumulated brainsick wage, pensions and minimum wage ” a early as 1927 made CETU a “ drawing card in the field of trade unionism. ”

144

CETU therefore represented an matter to and much

contradictory mix of approaches to unionism and

visions of democracy and identity, which is unsurprising given the diverse influences pressing upon it. It had opted for industrial quite than craft unionism, signa

lling a broader identification with class rather than

occupation. As well, their emphasis on independent

Canadian unionism was rooted in a desire for

democratic manipulate by the immediate membership as

opposed to control by a central office in the US.

however, such patriotism could besides indicate

tendencies towards particularism and narrowness.

furthermore, the class awareness which CETU exhibited was besides ambiguous, as was evidenced in their support for and habit of the IDIA. While this patronize was in many respects tactical and resulted in positive economic outcomes for the membership, it besides

indicated a preference for rational and harmonious

engagement with employers. This tendency may have

been reinforced once electricity was municipalized,

since strikes and their fiscal outcomes could hav

e negative impacts on the public the workers were

mean to serve. That said, electric light and exponent

workers tended to be relatively more strike-prone than

other municipal workers through the 1920s.

145

120 146

Pringle, 20, 22.

Winnipeg civil workers, in the context of a comm

unity with very sharp class divisions, had also

produced broader forms of working class solidarity. In

this process, the 1918 strike was ideologically quite

formative, particularly in terms of the manner that the red brigades

oader labour movement came to the civic workers’ aid.

The Winnipeg labor milieu was steeped in a class con

scious understanding of the specific battles between

workers and employers : according to Winnipeg Labour

Council president Fred Tipping, “[t]he existence of

barter unionism was … challenged by the capitalist intere

sts of the city.” As such, Winnipeg civic workers

learned in very practical way that solidarity wh

ich transcended occupational boundaries was the only way

that “ employers would … meet them as equals ” and

worked to create organizations that express these

conclusions.

146

however, the severe repression that play along

ed the 1919 Winnipeg General Strike made it very

difficult for Winnipeg civil workers to maintain their organizational oneness.

Municipal employers like the City

of Winnipeg besides knew that british labour party integrity which transc

ended sectionalism would pose a real threat to their

fiscal and practical control over the workplace, and they actively worked to reinforce those divisions. Having fired all civic workers for participating in deoxythymidine monophosphate

he Strike, Winnipeg city council required all those who

wished to return to sign a document in which they pledged not to join a union nor engage in any sympathetic strike actions. Called the “ Slave Pac

t”, this agreement primarily forced the white collar

workers, who were still organized by the Federation of

Civic Employees, out of their affiliation with the

broader Winnipeg british labour party movement until the 1940s. A ke

y goal of the city here was to break their

employees ’ affiliation with the One Big Union, whic

h had emerged immediately after the General Strike and

aimed to unify all workers in a park, class-consci

ous organization. In that context, the Council, “when

faced with the option of dealing with the militant OBU

or a craft union,” chose the latter. As a result, many

city workers did opt to join one of the IBEW, the Wa

ter Works Operators Union,

and the Federation of Civic

121 147

Pringle, 25-6.

148

Ewen, 104, 112.

Employees ( representing by and large blank collar workers ),

as these were the only groups with which the city

would bargain and sign agreements. however, despite these employer tactics, outside civil workers like general labourers, parks employees and garbage collector

s remained committed to the One Big Union and

were represented by them and Winnipeg General St

rike leader R.B. Russell until the early 1950s.

147

Montreal municipal workers besides strove to create

bodies that went beyond their sectional identities.

This desire can be detected not only in these locals ’ initia

l multi-occupational strike in 1918, but also in their

disregard for one of the terms of the intercede settlement to that disput

e which stipulated that “civic unions

were required to sever all ties with each other and wisconsin

th any other organizations, such as the [local] trades

and labour council. ” however, there were limits to th

is expansive consciousness: municipal workers were

amongst those sections of the Montreal labor missouri

vement which “denounced the OBU, Bolshevism, and the

[ Winnipeg ] general strike. ”

148

There were two influences which led the Montreal

ers to be both sectionalist and anti-socialist. First,

even though the municipal workers were not members

of a Catholic labour organization, the influence of

the Catholic Church and its corporatist social six

sion on the Francophone working class’ attitude towards

socialism should not be ignored. The Church “ discour

aged class conflict, preferred

arbitration over strikes,

underscore workers ’ duties to their employers,

and opposed independent political activity on the part of

workers. ” While this did not prevent expressions of meter

ilitancy by Montreal municipal workers, it did mitigate

the development of a politicize wage-earning consci

ousness. Added to this was the influence of the

autonomist orientation of the inte

rnational craft unions that dom

inated the Montreal Trades and Labour

council, the leaders of which insist

ed that “only individual unions, not the council”, could decide whether to

122 149

Ibid., 112, 118, 132.

150

Ibid., 114.

151

Logan, 294; Kealey, “State Repression,

” 307; Saul Frankel and Cranford Pratt,

Municipal Labour Relations in Canada

( montreal : McGill Industrial Relations Centre / Canadi

an Federation of Mayors and Municipalities, 1954), 3.

documentation the Winnipeg General Strike. furthermore, respect for the “ holiness of contracts ” a well as the jurisprudence worked to reinforce non-socialist forms of combativeness.

149

In early words, Montreal and Quebec City muni

cipal workers wanted “to establish organizations

that could bargain more efficaciously than craft unions

and that would include unskilled workers”, but were

reluctant to embrace some of the ideological implicat

ions of the more socialist versions of industrial

unionism stream at the clock.

150

Quebec municipal workers were also bound by their strong national identity

which intersected potently with classify, and ther

efore focussed attention on building strong regional

organizations. These efforts finally took t

he form of the Fédération Nationale des Employés

Municipaux. While these three groupings in Toronto, Winnipeg and Montreal demonstrat

ed the early capacity of

some municipal workers to create broader

(if still limited) institutionalized fo

rms of solidarity, they were the

exception that proved the rule. By far the most

common organizational form taken by municipal unions

after the first base World War was the independent local or

“federal labour union”, directly chartered by the

Trades and Labor Congress and unconnected to each other via any larger geographic or sectoral body.

151

The continuing presence of a very protective

and exclusivist unionism in the independent TLC

locals could be seen from the means in which returning veterans who had been city employees were treated by the unions which now existed in their early workpl

aces. In Calgary, for instance, a full 67% of civic

employees had been abroad, and the resulting shor

tage of labour was undoubtedly a major reason for

why a union could be formed there. however, conf

licts arose around which group of workers would be

accorded longevity. In March of 1924, the Cal

gary Federation of Civic Employees decided it would

recognize as broad employees those who had been tantalum

ken on during the war, and

therefore grant them

123 152

Bright, 143-4.

153

James Naylor,

The New Democracy: Challenging the Soci

al Order in Industrial Ontario, 1914-1925

(Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 1991 ), 64. 154

Power Workers’ Union,

The Power Workers’ Union 50

Anniversary: A pictorial histor

y of the union of workers behind the

structure, operation and sustenance of

one of the world’s great power systems

(Toronto: Power Workers’ Union, 1996), 4-5.

longevity rights. many recently ( rhenium ) hired veterans w

ould therefore be let go in the city’s post-war job cuts.

152

While this very dissentious decision did not have t

he unanimous support of the membership, one can see the

lastingness and bearing of a very exclusivist unionism c

haracterized by restrictive notions of solidarity.

similarly, as Toronto civic workers strove field-grade officer

r broader organizations, they did so in ways that

maintained the sectional boundaries between different gr

oups of public sector workers. In May 1919, a

Public Utilities Council brought together

14,000 federal, provincial and muni

cipal workers (including Toronto

Hydro workers ) together in a common arrangement led by

street railway workers. Though this represented

the “ potent attraction of the motion towards am

algamation”, the PUC’s leaders insisted that “if anyone

… was to have trouble, each would have local autonom

y and it does not mean that the whole 16 [locals]

would go on hit. ”

153

Municipal workers, like other public sector

workers, were making half-steps towards

broader solidarities, but as so far unwilling to subjec

t themselves to the consequences of transferring

democratic exponent to a broader community of workers. Parallel to these developments in municipal-level

unionism was the shift in the purpose of the

Ontario Hydro-Electric Power Commission during and a

fter the First World War and its impact on work and

tug relations there. electricity shortages, risi

ng prices and industrial unemployment caused by the 1902

u coal strike provided another impulse for an “ inexhaus

tible supply of cheap power” controlled in Ontario.

From its origin to the middle of the 1930s, the H

EPC was moving from power distribution to generation.

The Commission began purchasing and building its own

generating stations in 1914, in response to

wartime increases in the need for electric

ity, with which it could not keep pace.

154

This centralization

124 155

S. Dubovoj, “Ontario Hydro,”

Canadian Company Histories

(June 1997): 2.

156

Power Workers’ Union, 5-6.

157

Armstrong and Nelles, 246.

158

Armstrong and Nelles, 245.

and expansion continued after the war, when in 1922 triiodothyronine

he HEPC built the Queens

ton-Chippewa Generating

station at Niagara Falls, then “ the lar

gest power generator in the world.”

155

The transformation of the HEPC into an elec

tricity generator was br

inging enormous numbers of

workers in concert under the auspices of an increasingl

y centralized employer. The construction of the

Queenston-Chippewa site, for exemplify, employed ei

ght thousand workers; the skilled amongst them were

members of versatile building and construction trades

unions, but repeated attempts to organize the linemen

and labourers had failed.

156

Nonetheless, in May 1919, these workers engaged in a strike under the

auspices of the Niagara District Tr

ades Federation, and successfully resi

sted the Commission ’ s reinstitution of the 10-hour day as a method acting for dealing with carbon monoxide

st overruns on the Niagara project. It seemed that

unions now had a foothold at the Hydro. however, Beck did not sit easy with unions in

his midst. Although the IDIA had ruled in the

workers ’ favour in 1919, Beck continued to believe that

it was inappropriate for the HEPC to fall under the

Act ’ randomness legal power at all. In argumentation with his agreement of

the role of Hydro in Ontario society, Beck believed

that “ the commission, as an branch of government, wa

s fully able to express the popular will … had none of

the selfish interests of a secret ship’s company but was me

rely a trustee for its member municipalities. How

could it submit to binding arbitration without sacrificing those interests if

the [IDIA] board were to find for the

unions ? ”

157

In light of the role that the 1902 coal strike

had played in the rationale for publicly-owned power,

it was not surprising that Beck and his successors

worked tirelessly to prevent their employees from

“ enriching themselves at the expense of their companion citizens. ”

158

The main proficiency used by Beck in this quest, “ corporate welfarism ”, was increasingly popular during the 1920s. Designed to reestablish or reinforc

e unilateral management control over the workplace

125 159

Margaret McCallum, “Corporat

e Welfarism in Canada, 1919-1939,”

Canadian Historical Review

71, no. 1 (1990): 46-7.

160

Power Workers’ Union, 6-7.

161

McCallum, 52.

and to secure workers ’ consent to a hierarchically integrated cultivate envir

onment, corporate welfare

programmes involved services “ provided for the comfort

or improvement of employ

ees which [were] neither

a necessity of the diligence nor required by jurisprudence. ”

159

such initiatives ranged from pensions, profit-sharing plans, leisure activities and refreshment programmes,

and a variety of other means to make the working

environment more pleasant. In the case of the Hydro, such techniques emerged early in the form of a refreshment board and fully-staffed hospital on site at the Queenston-Chippewa locate. By the mid- 1920s, the Commission contributed two-thirds of the cost of

a jointly-funded pension plan which “paid 50% of the

employee ’ s good five years of earnings after 40 years ”

of service. These programmes were successful, for

though some workers chafed under the personal and arbitr

ary control of their supervisors, and unions like

the IBEW attempted several organizing drives, “ w

idespread support for the idea of a union at Hydro

remained a outback candidate. ”

160

It is difficult to gauge the depth of this ‘consent’, for like all corporate

wellbeing schemes, these plans creat

ed no legal entitlements for employees, and were dispensed according

to rules decided upon entirely by the employer. Therefore, some employees may have disavowed unionism out of a genuinely-felt loyalty to an employer generous enough to provide what others did not, while others shied away out of a fear of disentitlement.

161

In any subject, such programmes surely had a profound effect on the development of Ontario Hydro workers ’ course hundred

onsciousness and their relationship to the rest of the

working class. What all these unions had in common in the in

ter-war period, however, was their relative

debilitation vis-à-vis management. The end of the Firs

t World War brought severe economic dislocations

as unemployment returned with the demobilization of

the armed forces and the decline in war-related

industries. furthermore, employers now faced organized workforces who had, through their combativeness, been
126 162

Craig Heron, “National Contours:

Solidarity and Fragmentation,” in

The Workers’ Revolt in Canada, 1917-1925

, ed. C.

HERON, ( Toronto : University of Toronto, 1998 ), 287. 163

Warren Magnusson, “Introduction: The Deve

lopment of Canadian Urban Government,” in

City Politics in Canada

, eds. W.

Magnusson and A. Sancton ( Toronto : Un

iversity of Toronto Press, 1983), 11.

164

Bright, 144.

165

Ewen, 118. The class identity of the police was of particular

concern not only to municipal em

ployers but also to the broader

business community : a police force that saw itself as working class and sympathized with stri

kers, as in the Winnipeg General

strike, would make it very difficult to use t

he state to control expressions of class conflict.

166

Rouillard, 150.

able to raise their wages to levels that interfered

with competitiveness and profit

ability, as well as their

unilateral manipulate over the tug action. Priv

ate employers thus “launched a concerted offensive of

union-busting and wage-cutting in an effort to reclai

m the ground conceded to labour under extraordinary

wartime circumstances. ”

162

populace employers participated in this backfire against high wages and unionize workforces. As Warren Magnussen points out, cities were left with

a heavy debt burden from war-time spending and the

province to provide relief to growing numbers of

the unemployed. Municipal governments also faced

great pressure from the business community for tax copper

ts they claimed would rejuvenate the local economy.

As a resultant role, “ cutters ” gained dominance on many councils in a invite “ to save the ratepayers from excessive burdens ”, and municipal locals endured a series of auste

rity measures in the form of both job and wage

cuts, becoming shadows of their wartime selves.

163

The loss of members and the return of unemployment

weakened these locals and made it extremely unmanageable to

strike or otherwise make gains materially or

organizationally.

164

In some cities, the power of municipal loca

ls – particularly those with broader organizational

tendencies – was directly attacked by city councils equally soon as the war-induced parturiency deficit subsided. In Montreal, for case, the city council elect

ed in 1921 was “decidedly hostile to organized labour” and

battled against the rights of patrol, firefighters and aqueduct workers to unionize.

165

The city continued to

reject dinner dress recognition of any of its employees ’ unions through the 1920s.

166

The continued deterioration

127 167

Rouillard, 149.

168

Human Resources and Development Canada, Revi

ew of Canada Labour Code, Part I, 1996, Online at

hypertext transfer protocol : //www110.hrdc-drhc.gc.ca/sfmc_fmcs/lcctr_tclcr/toc.html in working conditions and the increasing challenge

to their legitimacy sustained municipal workers’

combativeness, but this in turn provoked, in 1921, a res

trictive provincial law which regulated strikes and lock-

outs of all-important services in the municipal sector.

167

In other words, in many places the employer was

actively involved in making broader forms of solidarity and class identity very costly and unmanageable to sustain. What little legal protections municipal workers

enjoyed also vanished in the years following World

War One. As we have seen, a major joyride wh

ich, until the mid-1920s, had helped electrical utility and

municipal workers make gains was the Industrial Dis

putes Investigation Act and its powers of conciliation.

Established in 1907 and authored by William Lyon MacKenzie King, the IDIA, “ An Act to Aid in the prevention and Settlement of Strikes and Lockouts in Mi

nes and Industries Connected with Public Utilities”,

reflected the federal express ’ s growing concern to pr

event strikes in sectors upon which the public (and the

business community ) relied heavily such as ember, railways, and hydro-electricity.

168

Also known as the

Lemieux Act, the IDIA mandated that all labour-management conflicts in mine, transportation, public utilities, and industries under federal jurisdiction were

required to submit their dispute to an appointed board

of placation before a hit or lockout could take place. While the Act did not explicitly apply to municipal employees, who fell under provincial jurisdicti

on, the Federal Department of Labour had adopted the

practice of striking a Board upon reciprocal agreement of

employer and employees. Though the IDIA was part

of the federal government ’ s try to manage the ex-wife

pression of class conflict by consent rather than

compulsion, and frequently disarmed workers in their disputes with employers, many unions however advocated its use. many municipal and utility worker locals made liberal consumption of the IDIA process during the
128 169

Judy Fudge and Eric Tucker,

Labour Before the Law: the Regulation of Wo

rkers’ Collective Action in Canada, 1900-1948 (

Don

Mills, ON : Oxford University Press, 2001 ), 78-9. 170

Ibid., 79. The Quebec court turned down this challenge and

upheld the federal government’s right to intervene in such

disputes under its built-in duty

to uphold “peace, order and good government.”

171

Ibid., 134.

172

Armstrong and Nelles, 246.

173

Armstrong and Nelles, 246.

war for the purposes of engage bargain,

169

and were frequently correct in their assumption that boards of

conciliation would at least grant wage increases in

light of inflationary pressures on real wages.

increasingly, public utilities commissions and municipal governments chafed under the IDIA and the shock its decisions had on their budgets. angstrom early as 1912, public employers like the Montreal Street Railway were challenging the constitutionality of the IDIA.

170

Opponents argued their case on two fronts.

first, the Act violated the BNA Act since the state

s had exclusive jurisdiction over “property and civil

rights ” ; labor relations, in this view, were separate of

“the domain of the market where consensual relations

purportedly prevailed. ”

171

Second was an argument about which level

of government had the right to define

and defend the populace sake. Adam Beck, for example,

rejected the necessity of the IDIA’s intervention in

labour-management disputes at the HEPC, on the grounds

that “the commission, as an arm of government,

was in full able to express the democratic will ” and had to

be free from binding arbitration if it was to properly

represent the interests of the

municipal governments it served.

172

In the background, however, were the private industrial interests who had

supported the municipalisation of

utilities precisely on the basis of

receiving bum power at monetary value ; for them, the wages of

municipal electrical workers had to be kept at a

‘ reasonable ’ flat. It was, however, the beginning argument which finally

held sway. In 1921, the Toronto Hydro Electric

Commission launched a challenge to the electrical work

ers’ fifth attempt to get a wage increase through

IDIA interposition.

173

This time,

Toronto Electric Commissioners v. Snider

went all the way to Britain’s

Judicial Committee of the Privy Council which, under

the leadership of Viscount Haldane, opted for a very

129 174

G. DiGiacomo,

Federalism and Labour Policy in Canada

, working paper (Kingston, ON:

Institute of Intergovernmental

Relations, Queen ’ s University, 2001 ), 7. 175

Fudge and Tucker, 140-1.

176

Frankel and Pratt, 2.

decentralist read of the BNA Act. Rather than granti

ng the legitimacy of the f

ederal politics ’ second desire to manage labor “ disputes which could affect the

national welfare”, Haldane agreed with the Commission

“ that the Act conduct with civil rights and municipal

institutions and both were provincial matters.”

174

The IDIA

was frankincense declared

ultra vires

with respect to municipal disputes in 1925, and the federal government was

forced to amend the Act. now, the IDIA would only appl

y to labour disputes in those industries explicitly

listed in the BNA Act as under federal jurisdiction. T

he provinces could opt in to the IDIA and have it apply

to provincial jurisdiction, a course taken by Br

itish Columbia, Manitoba, Saskatchewan and New Brunswick.

however, Ontario and Quebec, with the largest num

bers of unionized municipal and utilities workers,

remained outside the IDIA until the 1930s.

175

After 1925, many municipal workers consequently

no longer had access to the conciliation process

they had used to their capital advantage, lost what short

legal protection they had, and existed in a legislative

vacuum until well into the 1930s.

176

The decision in the

Snider

case, combined with post-war political and

economic conditions, made it very unmanageable for civic em

ployee unions to establish or maintain themselves as

effective corporate dicker agents, and to expand thymine

heir membership both within locals and to other

cities. This position was only to worsen with the attack of the Great Depression. IV.

Depression, War and the Evolution

of Canadian Public Sector, 1929-1945

The Great Depression which began in 1929 bring to

a halt the brief economic recovery of the

late 1920s. The recurrence of unemployment on a multitude scale besides had a serious negative impact on coupling exponent throughout the economy. Interestingly, union me

mbership levels and density rates for this period

130 177

M. Huberman and D. Young,

Hope Against Hope: Persistent Canadi

an Unions in the Interwar Years

. Scientific Series, no. 28.

( montreal : Centre interuniversitaire

de recherche en analise des organisations

, 2000), 21. The average number of union

members between 1922-1928 was 272,000, with a density rate of

12.6%. Between 1929-1936, t

he average number of union

members was 301,000, with a density rate of 14.8 %. 178

James Struthers,

No Fault of Their Own: Unemploym

ent and the Canadian Welfare State, 1914-1941

(Toronto: University of

Toronto Press, 1983 ), 9. This decentralization of wellbeing besides served the federal government ’ second interest in ensuring that relief levels were kept in agate line with local labor market conditions, thus

that relief would not seem more economically attractive than

working. A federal plan which defined

the minimum would have to establish such

uniformity and therefore would interfere with the employment ethic ( Struthers, 85 ). 179

Alvin Finkel, “Origins of t

he Welfare State in Canada,” in

The Canadian State: Political Economy and Political Power

, ed. L.

Panitch ( Toronto : University of Toronto, 1977 ), 350. increased above the modal level in the 1920s.

177

However, this signalled both the depth of the employers’

post-war victory against the unions deoxyadenosine monophosphate well as the

way that high levels of unemployment increased

unionize workers ’ proportional parcel in the employed wo

rkforce. Moreover, the massive expansion in the

military reserve pool of british labour party restricted unions ’ ability to make gains on the footing of these levels of membership and concentration. however, it was the federal and municipal state ’ mho methods for dealing with the Depression that had a peculiarly deep impact on municipal oeuvre and munici

pal unions. The combination of the British North

America Act ’ s silence on the question of unemployment

and the poor-law tradition of making “care of the

destitute a local province ” meant that munici

pal governments were charged with distributing relief.

178

had been a longstanding practice to use municipal employment

ment as a means for distributing relief in periods

of impermanent unemployment and for staffing public works

projects at relatively low cost. The acute and

apparently ageless nature of the econom

ic downturn in the 1930s led to an explosion of demands for relief

and jobs on public works like never ahead. The

emergence of “well-organiz

ed and generally Communist-

led campaigns of the unemployed workers in the milliampere

jor municipalities … [s]upported by trade unionists …

presented the ghost of a revolt of the workers to

the frightened pillars of the communities in charge of

municipal councils ” ; their campaigns insisted on the dist

ribution of relief even if it meant “defaulting on the

cities ’ debts. ”

179

The issue of the state’s responsibility to

serve the class interests of workers via

employment frankincense became and significant part of the class struggle of the menstruation .
131 180

Lenihan, 162.

181

Palmer, 244.

182

Carol Baines, “The Professions and an Ethic of Care,” in

Women’s Caring: Feminist Perspectives on Social Welfare

, eds. C.

Baines et alabama. ( Toronto : Mc

Clelland and Stewart, 1991), 41, 44-48.

For municipal workers themselves, however, the practi

ce of providing municipal relief in the form of

use made it extremely difficult to maintain wages, working conditions, levels of employment and even unions, which they had been struggling to do since the end of the First World War. Relief cultivate placed a Sword of Damocles over municipal employees, for nowadays there was the ever-present screw thread of replacing permanent wave employees on public works with stand-in recipient role

s. In some communities, the sword fell: Calgary

city council “ laid off about 80 percentage of the civil employees and put them on relief ”, using federal and provincial help to pay the majority of what was the municipality ’ randomness engage bill.

180

In terms of class identity and

solidarity, municipal workers faced contradictory pressures during the D

epression. The economic crisis did

drive working conditions to a low common denominator and produced an unprecedented sense of coarse suffer and class awareness, in which “ einsteinium

verybody felt just a little bit revolutionary.”

181

however, those unionize workers who had been able to

retain a modicum of institutional presence

nurtured a defensive and sectionalist job protectionism

against those who were threatening to take ‘their

jobs ’. The practice of providing lead relief ( in the

form of payments to heads of households and families)

besides led to the growth of newfangled categories of muni

cipal work, especially social work, whose connection to

working class identity and consciousness was besides am

biguous. Along with public health officials, social

workers first gear emerged during the flower of munici

pal reform, and were initially driven by upper- and

middle-class philanthropy and the social gospel.

182

Social workers, whether under the auspices of Church

or State, saw themselves as ‘ social evangelists ’ whose mission was to create and deliver services that would soften the impact of urban industrial capitalism

on working class women and children. This mission,

carried out by women, was informed both by ideas of

noblesse oblige

and the gendered ethic of care which

132 183

Baines, 39.

184

John Weaver, “The Modern City Realized:

Toronto Civic Affairs, 1880-1915,” in

The Usable Urban Past: Planning and Politics

in the Modern Canadian City

, eds. A. Artibise and G. Stelter (Toronto / O

ttawa: Macmillan / Institute of Canadian Studies,

Carleton University, 1979 ), 65-6. 185

Ibid., 65-6.

186

Canadian Association of Social Workers, “CASW

Represents Canadian Professional Social Workers,”

CASW website

, online

at hypertext transfer protocol : //www.casw-acts.ca/ ( viewed January 14, 2005 ). 187

Baines, 56.

188

Struthers, 48-9.

defined women ’ sulfur sociable function.

183

However, over the first three decades

of the century, social work made a

“ transition from the amateurish vol

unteer guided by moral values … to a civil servant … concerned with

professional standards, advanced tr

aining, and managing agency budgets.”

184

Under the influence of the

chiefly male municipal politics reformers who we

re concerned with efficiency above all, the mentality

of “ sectarian and conversion-oriented social knead ”, with its emphasis on service, gave room to a more “ worldly and ‘ scientific ’ ” practice circumscribed

by legislation and supervised by municipal audit

departments.

185

The growing numbers of social workers were

increasingly professionalized white collar civil

servants, a status which was institutionalized in 1926 by

the formal creation of a national body to regulate

standards of drill in the profession.

186

As Carol Baines argues, this process set up serious tensions

between women social workers ’ caring

and professional / scientific identities.

187

The swerve towards professionalization and bureaucrati

zation accelerated with the onset of the

Depression. Municipal social workers were the front lineage in the mass distribution of stand-in under the 1930 federal Relief Act and its versatile provincial count

erparts, but their very small numbers – between 400 and

500 in all of Canada – quickly created a crisis in their

working conditions. Relief legislation frequently made

no planning for the costs of administering the programmes incurred by cities, and frankincense “ municipalities had no incentive to hire competent personnel or to

develop efficient structures for dispensing relief.”

188

James

Struthers argues that the effects of a lack of degree fahrenheit

ederal or provincial government aid were compounded by

local city councillors ’ electric resistance to increases in proper

ty taxes; many social workers were thus “unable to

133 189

Ibid., 48-9.

190

Ibid., 63-4, 76-7.

191

Baines, 58.

give what they considered adequate relief. ” In other

words, the immediate impact of the Depression was

“ devastating ” for social workers, “ as caseloads doubled and there was no increase in staff. ”

189

such conditions produced two authoritative and in indeed

me ways contradictory trends in this area of

municipal work : demands for more professionally

-trained social workers, well-funded and permanent

municipal social benefit departments, and the rationa

lization of the relief system, on the one hand, and the

radicalization of many social workers on the other.

Struthers shows how some social workers’ response

was to take advantage of their still-small num

bers and possession of highly-demanded expertise to

“ increase their professional condition and influence. ” These

social workers, led by Charlotte Whitton of the

canadian Council on Child Welfare, appealed to gov

ernments’ desire for economy by promoting

professionally-trained social workers as able of

managing relief programmes more efficiently than the

patchwork of second government employees and volunt

eers which filled the gap in most municipalities.

ascribable to their detail professional skill of “ inves

tigative casework”, social workers would be able to

settle who actually needed easing, which Whitton argued

was far less than those on the rolls. They often

made these appeals in alliance with business groups

and academics who were primarily concerned with

the fiscal and moral implications of the easing scandium

heme, namely the waste of taxpayers’ money and the

long-run corrosion of the work ethic.

190

separate of this professionalization process was deoxythymidine monophosphate

he emergence of a clear gender division of labour in

social study agencies. even though there was a desire

to replace traditional “female philanthropists” with

“ new scientific women ”, the reorgani

zation of social work was still premised on women’s role as “social

mothers ” whose natural ability to rear made triiodothyronine

hem “ideally suited to offering direct services.”

191

Such

notions besides legitimized paying women social

workers poorly. Men began to fill “the more elite

134 192

Ibid., 58.

193

Struthers, 51.

194

Ibid., 50.

195

Ibid., 75.

administrative positions ” that were besides more lucrat

ive, and “[s]ocial work, a profession, largely made up of

women, became a profession

under the control of men.”

192

other social workers grew critical of the relie

f system in ways out of step with Whitton’s more

cautious professional converse. These cultivate

ers had the onerous responsibility to implement the

increasingly restrictive rules developed by over-bur

dened municipalities. One of these measures was

designed to prevent “ non-residents ”, that is transient

single men who were travelling the country in search

of work, from getting on city relief rolls, or to cut

them off if they had managed to get on. Such policies

made the practice of social exploit according to public relations

ofessional values as well as the gendered ethic of care

impossible : “ [ a ] south one social proletarian said, ‘ Any humane

treatment of these men … make[s] it impossible to

eliminate their number ’. ”

193

Social workers were thus “day after day in the position of being the only person

to whom … families [ had ] to turn and so far [ were ]

absolutely unable to relieve their anxiety and suffering.”

194

The position of the button-down government,

which aimed at preventing dependency on the state and

preserving the sour ethic quite than providing suffi

cient assistance, “infuriated Canadian social workers”

who “ urged their fellow workers to ‘ take a stand for adequate respite ’. ”

195

It is also possible that the material

consequences of the sex division of parturiency contributed to

a radicalization of women social workers: elite

men were responsible for both the insufficiency of the relief system american samoa well as sociable workers ’ own poor wages. therefore, professionalism and gender identit

y provided the possibility for both opposition to and

recognition with the working classify, depending upon circ

umstances. These contradictory aspects of social

worker consciousness would clash repeatedly through the Depression, and which would take precession remained an outdoors motion .
135 196

Kealey Cummings, interview by author,

17 December, 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON.

197

Power Workers’ Union, 9.

198

Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 95.

199

Kealey Cummings, interview by author,

17 December, 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON.

Another area of populace sector work which continued

to exhibit deep contradictions was that of the

coevals of hydro-electricity in Ontario. As public relations

eviously discussed, the desire to deliver cheap power

combined with HEPC chair Adam Beck ’ s convic

tion that the Commission had the public interest at

heart to produce a series of corporate wellbeing schem

es aimed at tamping down the desire for unionization

at Ontario Hydro. The Commission ’ s most potent cor

porate welfare scheme came in 1935 in the depths of

the Depression. With a severe decay in the demand

for power, the HEPC instituted a series of wage cuts

and massive layoffs between 1930-33. Renewed matter to in and attempts at unionization which were generated by these moves were blocked, however, by deoxythymidine monophosphate

he establishment by the employer of an Employees’

representation design.

196

Like Beck before him, T. Stewart Lyon,

HEPC Chairman in 1934, “felt that a vital

public avail such as the Hydro was an inappropr

iate arena for … labour/industry confrontations.”

197

With

no marriage dues to pay and no unmanageable recognition mint

to fight, the ERP effectively undercut support for

unionization. In the view of some, the ERP was much lik

e the early provincial government employees’

organizations : a form of “ corporate beggary ” in

which the appearance of consultation and negotiations

masked the reality of the em

ployer’s continued dominance.

198

‘Negotiations’ under the Plan involved the

civilized presentation of the Association ’ s “ wish list ”, and the employer would tell them what they could have.

199

On the other side were those HEPC employees

who found this arrangement not only sufficient, but

a more modern, orderly and static method of

governing labour-management relations. This was

particularly true of “ aged employees ”, who were most

likely white collar workers or long-serving blue collar

workers who had much to lose by challenging the condition

quo. In any case, the “tangible results” of the plan

– a Commission-wide subcontract classification and engage security council

heme, and “more than a million dollars annually in

136 200

Power Workers’ Union, 8-9.

201

Lenihan, 168.

engage increases ” between 1936 and 1941 – bolstered hold for the ERP.

200

The combination of the

substantial benefits of the ERP in a context where

few were making gains, and the particular ideological

impulse behind the creation of thyroxine

he HEPC – the notion of serving the public good – had a profound

conservatising impact on the consciousness and organiza

tion of the Commission’s employees, fostering an

attachment to the employer therefore str

ong it was to keep them out of the

bona fide

labour movement for another

20 years. Public employees and their organizations came

out of the Great Depression in some ways

weakened, in some ways radicalized, but undoubtedly tr

ansformed. The depth of the economic crisis had

affected their employers and altered their worki

ng conditions in ways that pushed some to broader

identities and oppositional positions

vis-à-vis management, while others we

re incorporated into managerial

control systems that appeared to satisfy their intere

sts. The Depression also brought into being new

categories of workers who were frequently pulled between

the pride and values associated with professions and

egg white collar work and the growing awareness of a need field-grade officer

r collective action to protect against a rationalizing

and bureaucratizing employer. But these tensions could not be worked out in organizational shape until the fall of favorable conditions for unionization. The second coming of the Second World War brought

new opportunities for organizing public sector

workers. The return of full employment and lambert

abour shortages by 1942 allowed an economy-wide surge in

unionization, in which new groups of public sector wo

rkers participated. These conditions led to a second

organizing wave in the municipal sector, concentrated in easterly Canada.

201

This was reinforced by the

scatter of unionization amongst flannel collar and profe

ssional workers in the general public sector. By

1930, civil servants in the municipal, provincial

and federal governments had gr

own to 108,000, a tenfold

137 202

Graham Lowe,

Women in the Administrative Revoluti

on: The Feminization of Clerical Work

. (Toronto: University of Toronto

press, 1987 ), 31. 203

Michèle Dagenais, “Discipliner les fonctionnaires de l’administration

municipale de Montréal dans

les premières décennies du

XXe siècle : en théorie … et en buttocks

ique,” Canadian Historical Association

Historical Papers

( 1990 ) : 81-83. increase since 1901.

202

Their numbers continued to grow through the Depression and now exploded with

the expansion in express functions during the Second Wo

rld War. Many of these workers now organizing

were quite unlike from those who had organized unions

at the end of the First World War: they included

urban planners, administrators, air combat command

ountants, organizational and managerial s

pecialists, clerical staff, social

workers and day concern workers, all of whom experienced working conditions markedly different from their propertyless counterparts. The last three of these o

ccupations also included many more women. In other

words, the second wave in municipal unionization enc

ompassed a far more diverse workforce, presenting

new challenges in the quest to create a coarse

identity amongst public sector workers.

Why did egg white choker public sector workers turn

to unionism, besides the fact that wartime labour

market conditions made it feasible ? What was happening

in their workplaces to make union representation

seem utilitarian or necessary ? In effect, unionization was a reaction to a longer-term and cardinal transformation in the approach of public officials

to their employees, a process which had begun during and

immediately following the first World War and accelerated in the Second. As Michèle Dagenais argues, the ongoing growth in state functions and hence em

ployees attenuated direct contact between the

employer and employees. In other words, supervisors

could no longer rely on interpersonal relations to

ensure discipline, and fresh managerial methods were requir

ed. The response at all levels of the state was

the standardization and “ objective application ” of

work rules, and the bureaucratization of labour

relations.

203

The application of scientific management tec

hniques in the civil service emerged from the

1920s on as a method to deal with “ the long history

of inefficiency due largely to rampant patronage”, and

138 204

Lowe, 91.

205

Dagenais, 81-83.

206

Lowe, 141pp.

207

Dagenais, 79, 84.

208

Lowe, 144.

209

C. Wright Mills,

White Collar: The American Middle Classes

(New York: Oxford University Press, 1951), 309.

the systematization and standardization of position procedures that resulted caused “ considerable break and discontent. ”

204

In the municipal kingdom, for case, the tr

aditional autonomy enjoyed by white collar workers in

such matters as working time was eroded by the enforcement of uniform codes of behave and highly regimented systems for tracking punctua

lity and the amount of time actually worked. Given workload

increases during both the Depression and wartime, employees were now expected to use exchangeable rules and procedures in the performance of their dut

ies, and were less able to use their discretion or

professional judgment to deal with the specificities of detail cases.

205

Accompanying these changes

was a longer-term action in which clerical exercise

was being transformed from a highly-skilled and well-paid

occupation dominated by men, into routinized,

fragmented and deskilled work performed by poorly paid

women.

206

In all, the conditions of work in muni

cipal offices were undergoing a dual process of

bureaucratization and proletarianization. These changes in the nature of both public sector

work and labour relations were initially welcomed

by some workers, as they were happy to see the end of dim expectations, arbitrary discipline and favoritism.

207

However, the wider application of these

managerial systems was a source of increasing

dissatisfaction amongst white collar workers. even if, as Graham Lowe argues, these changes did not produce “ a mix bulk of unskilled, low-wage tantalum

sks” being performed by “a uniform administrative

lower class ”,

208

the rationalization of the municipal o

ffice and the bureaucratization of labour-management

relations however formed the footing for unionization

in many cities. While elements of the more

conservative and individualist white collar fad

ure that C. Wright Mills described remained,

209

many workers

139 were radicalized and unified by the common loss of

autonomy and thus took advantage of war conditions to

unionize in larger numbers. V.

Conclusion: The Ambivalent Identit

ies of Public Sector Workers

overall, municipal workers were moving towa

rds unionism, separation from the employer, and

broader identification with “ public sector workers ” in the period leading up to the 1950s. The homogenize effects of raw managerial techniques in the face of

larger workforces served to alienate many public

employees from their bosses and to reveal the lim

its to labour-management cooperation. The effects of

war and economic depression besides served to radicalize some workers and provide them with the opportunity to organize jointly. Some workers we

re situated in local labour movements that provided a

potent formative experience based on

the importance of working-class solidarity. Municipal workers who

found themselves excluded from local govern coalitions were more likely to see the union as a social and political movement with a broader setting and purpos

e. Finally, nationalist sentiment and a common

negative experience of the break up

nature of international unionism did produce, in some quarters, the

footing for a more expansive, if canadian, propertyless identity. As we shall see in subsequent chapters, unions most influenced by these processes became more will to centralize resources and develop forms of nat

ional leadership that would be charged with serving

supra-local interests. This process was informed

by a definition of union dem

ocracy that required self-

imposed discipline in the interest of cosmopolitan rather than particularistic concerns. however, these unions would besides come to advocate professionalized and ex-wife

pert forms of leadership which would increasingly

substitute for the conduct action of members and

would foster dependent relationships on national staff.

furthermore, such an approach was to emphasize top-

down processes of unification in which leaders

negotiated amalgamation terms to foster greater working-

class (organizational) unity. In some ways, both

140 democratic participation and accountability were to be in

creasingly constrained by these practices, and they

would come to have at odds implications for how identity and majority rule would be sympathize. however, despite these unite tendencies, there remained powerful centrifugal forces which affected most municipal workers. Given the incredi

ble array of types of work, employers, and managerial

strategies confronting them, it w

ould be unrealistic to expect public sector workers to have easily produced

a discrete and unite identity in the

early part of the twentieth century.

The paternalistic and incorporative

strategies of employers, combined with the specif

ic nature of the work per

formed, presented important

obstacles to class constitution by nurturing the dream

of harmonious and rational labour relations and joint

management of the workplace in the interests of the public. This was particularly true for municipal workers included in local backing networks, who were as a resu

lt more likely to view their union as a source of

material benefits delivered in exchange for commitment.

Such strategies continued to pull people away from

their fellow workers, whether in their immediate wo

rkplaces or in the broader labour market, and towards

the employer. flush where unions had formed, they

often moulded themselves to the locally defined

contours of their workplaces. These sectionalist tendencies, promote encouraged by the continue proliferation of public sector agenc

ies and occupations, were to continue well into the post-war period and

informed a particular agreement of union democracy. such unions were more comfortable within the or

bit of traditional craft unionism, particularly as it

was practised before the growth of centraliz

ed international business unionism. Such locals

emphatic local autonomy and were able to remain autonomous as they did not fall within the legal power of an already-established international. As such

, union democracy was to be increasingly understood as

the serve of particularistic interests and independence from

the control of a central structure. Processes

of fusion continued to emerge amongst these locals

, but were to be achieved on the basis of formal

rather than substantive integrity and would result in an underdeveloped and resource-poor cardinal
141 organization. interestingly, such constraints were

also to lead to a greater emphasis on membership

learning how to fend for themselves, and an understand of the role of union leadership and staff as educative quite than substituting for members. It

is hard to ascertain whether this approach sustained

forms of direct participatory dem

ocracy before the 1950s; however, the

image

of such practices formed the standard against which all future proposed structural changes would be judged. The bowel movement towards unionism consequently did not

lead to a consensus over the role that unions

should play for populace employees, and how it should fulfil

that role. Although workers’ diverse identifications

had begun to and would continue to consolidate organiza

tionally, their many cross-cutting relationships

would survive into the 1950s to form the basis for degree centigrade

onflicts over the questions of union function, structure

and the mean of majority rule. As populace sector oeuvre

ers moved towards the formation of national unions,

these issues would remain the subject of contes

tation both within and between the two new organizations,

the National Union of Public Sector Employees

and the National Union of Public Employees.

142 chapter 4 : The Post-War Emergence of

National Unions in the Public Sector

The trials of war and natural depression led populace sector

workers across Canada to develop different kinds

of organizations reflecting their respective identities.

Some had formed unions on the basis of an expansive

impression of solidarity and common interests, while others remained marry to very specialize definitions of community. Any project seeking to unite these wo

rkers organizationally would have to convince public

sector workers of their shared concerns and of the necrotizing enterocolitis

essity of transcending or transforming the identities

upon which they had based their original unions. Unific

ation would thus require the redefinition of the

boundaries of the democratic community in which legi

timate decisions could be made and of the bonds of

common obligation which held members to each ot

her. New structures capable of democratically

representing and managing particularisms would besides

be needed, a particularly challenging task given how,

in larger organizations, the need for efficiency makes direct and participatory democratic processes unmanageable. The economic, political and legal conditions which followed the second World War provided a lot of the raw material for such a unite projec

t, but were not without contradictory elements.

Transformations within the state, both as employer and as governor of labour-management relations via parturiency jurisprudence, and within the broader parturiency bowel movement worked to create the basis for broader identities and organizational forms, but besides multiplied the obsta

cles to expressing and consolidating them. An

unprecedented economic boom and the hegemonic condition of

Keynesian economic policies ushered in a

retain and dramatic expansion of

the state and thus of the numbers

and types of workers and potential

union members. A post-war compromise between parturiency

and capital emerged in the form of a legal regime

to govern changing labour-management relations. Labour

laws fostered union formation and recognition,

but under particular forms which reinforced the ‘ holiness

of contracts’ and redefined what it meant to be an

‘ effective union ’. These trends worked to both mix and shard, radicalize and bureaucratize, expand and incorporate canadian trade unions .
143 All this had significant effects on the public faction

or union movement, in terms of the workers and

identities contained within it, the functions and lambert

eaders seen as most important and effective, and the

organizational form deemed most allow to deal with

post-war conditions. In this period, there were

coincident pressures towards centralization

and broader organizational forms, on the one hand, and

fragmentation and minute identities on the other. Over

all, public sector unions faced the necessity of

growth and consolidation. State expansion meant it

was more important to organize the growing numbers

and types of workers, adenine well as to bring together

those already unionized. It was hoped that larger unions

would more effectively deal with a municipal stat

e increasingly capable of coordinating efforts and a

provincial department of state get down to centralize certain once municipal functions. however, both expansion and consolidation brought with them serious internal vitamin c

onflicts over how new groups should be incorporated and

accommodated within union structure and identity,

where decision-making power would rest, which

political-ideological orientation to adopt, and which marriage

functions were most important. The questions of

identity and the location of world power in the union were in

tertwined with the issue of function, for different

geomorphologic arrangements were often justified in term

s of the need to be ‘effective’ within the new legal

model for labor relations. These disagreements could be worked out in a number

of ways. The first option was to create a

new identity, which would be imposed from the top

and reinforced through material relations of dependency

on the central position. This alternative would involve southeast

rious battles with representatives of older identities,

who would have to relinquish what organizational power

they possessed. Most often, advocates of a

centralized and professionalized marriage supported this st

rategy, driven by a commitment to place general

interests over particular ones. The second option washington

s to leave the question of a new identity unanswered,

and the necessary battles to create it unfought. Autonom

y for local unions and a loose coordinating role for

144 the central office was a way to defer rather than settl

e these issues. Supporters of this model tended to be

wedded to a decentralized union led by non-expert local leaders and activists. These different approaches to fusion produced comprehensive examination

lex contradictions that highlight how class

formation does not mechanically or unproblemat

ically engender democracy. Top-down integration

processes involved negotiations between leaders and tended to exclude members from all but the formalistic processes of consent. While not democrati

c in a participatory sense, such methods could result

in the more rapid consolidation of broader struct

ures and hence class unity. However, top-down methods

could not guarantee that meaty forms of solidar

ity would result, particularly because unification deals

with other leaderships often came at the price of randomness

pecial exemptions from the broader community’s binding

decision-making power. In such situations, the dem

ocratic values of representation and egalitarianism

were brought into conflict, as some groups worked to

insulate themselves from the demands of a larger

constituency, while others sought to apply the decisions of the organization universally to the entire membership. consolidation processes which emphasized ball over

substantive unity were also contradictory.

While relatively more ‘ democratic ’ in that groups

were not forced to relinquish old identities and found it

easier to join as there was fiddling to give up, a lot

would have to be sacrificed in terms of creating deeper

bonds of solidarity. Though it was hoped that, over

time, members of decentralized structures would

gradually develop a broader awareness, attachm

ent to particularisms around which democratic

expectations had been formed create barriers to this public relations

ocess. Local identities prevented the development

of the very structures which would have forged a

more expansive solidarity. While robust democratic

organizations require both a corporate identity and a shape

al structure to process differences, the historical

processes of union formation amongst public sector workers show just how difficult it is to achieve both simultaneously .
145 populace workers ’ unions were besides faced with significant questions of leadership and its relationship to the members. Which kind of leadership was nece

ssary in these new conditions, with what kinds of

powers and capacities ? What character should the members play in a labor apparent motion facing increasingly complex employers and legal structures ? Struggles wi

thin public sector unions parallelled those in the

labor movement at big and involved a clash betw

een ‘old’ and ‘new’ types of leadership. On one side

were elected activist-organizers who had, through thei

r volunteer or poorly-paid labour, risen up through the

ranks and survived the unmanageable battles associated with

forming and maintaining unions in a hostile legal,

political and economic climate. While this type of leader did not constantly espouse participatory democratic sentiments, and could be psychologically attached to t

heir indispensability to the organization, they often

besides desire workers ’ autonomy in bargaini

ng and union affairs for both ideological and practical

reasons. Gaining ground, however, were the professor

essionalized and appointed ‘expert’ leaders, often from

outside the union, who possessed specialized forms of

training or university education and who supported

centralized forms of administration. Which type of fifty

eader would be established as dominant was a central

conflict in this menstruation, and was resolved differently in the versatile unions. While broader forms of identity,

professionalization of leadership

and legalization of union functions

were all in dominance in this menstruation, the contradict

ions within the context and the variations in the

traditions of populace employee unionism meant

these pressures were expressed and resolved

organizationally in different ways. This chapter thus examines both the nature of the post-war political- economic context and the way populace sector unions devel

oped different notions of their purpose as a result.

The Post-War Context: Stat

e, Law and the Labour Movement

The post-war boom brought with it a lengthiness of

growth and bureaucratization of the state at all

levels, including municipalities. The demobilizati

on of veterans and the subsequent baby boom led to an

146 1

Crean, 41.

Crawford, 184-5; Crean, 47.

plosion of demands for housing and residential district services. The Veterans ’ Land Act provided grants to allow working classify families to buy modern homes at low cost, resulting in a build boom in suburban areas and the egress of many newfangled municipalities.

A vast expansion in the demand for municipal services

like infrastructure, schools, hospitals, libraries, recr

eation facilities, and police and fire services, not to

mention the necessitate for urban plan, clerical, and admin

istrative staff, rapidly drove up the numbers of

likely public employee union members. many municipalities dealt with these increas

ed burdens and the enlarged staff they entailed

through far systematization of

labour-management relations. Typifying these schemes were job

evaluation and categorization processes to standar

dize wage rates and merit systems which would

‘ objectively ’ determine eligibility for promotion.

As we saw in Chapter 3, such developments often signalled

the growing distance between employer and employees

, often ‘radicalizing’ workers and leading them to

seek unions to represent them in these comple

x and increasingly alienated labour-management relations.

however, these arrangements besides

required that union leaders develop ce

rtain kinds of expertness, and thus were a source of specialization and bureaucratization within municipal unions. At the lapp time, public employees were affect

ed by an important redist

ribution of the duties of

versatile levels of government. The convergence of Ke

ynesian economic policies, pressure from the labour

movement and overburden municipalities led the federal and provincial

governments to centralize many

functions associated with social social welfare which had

previously fallen under municipal responsibility. As

Warren Magnussen describes, the higher levels of gover

nment took charge of “[

uranium ] nemployment indemnity, old-age pensions, and hospital insurance and the former

r federally sponsored welfare programs [which]

relieved the municipalities of most of their responsib

ilities for relief.” Concretely, this meant a renewed focus

on urban infrastructure, particularly in light of triiodothyronine

he many necessary improvements deferred during the

147 3

Magnusson, 25.

Ibid., 28.

Depression and Second World War, and the rapid

pace of urbanization and suburbanization which was

now taking position.

Therefore, those municipal locals most associated with urban growth, namely the

external city workers, were entrenched in their sectionalism and

ties to municipal elites as their material welfare

continued to be determined at the local level.

However, other functions which remained formally

autonomous and local, like hospitals and schools, were increasingly governed by central bureaucracies at the peasant level, a contradi

ctory development which produced a seri

es of centralizing pressures on

workers forming unions in these sectors. The highly disconnected municipal structure, on

the other hand, placed a brake on centralizing

trends in public sector unions. Municipalities continued to live with the legacies of the first gear wave of municipal reform, which had produced a overplus of

apolitical, arms-length commissions to administer

assorted municipal services. The anti-partisan tip

ling which still pervaded munici

pal politics meant there

were no institutions to provide political

unity amongst the “independent and semi-independent … school

boards, public utilities commissions, transit authorities, caparison corporations, parks and library boards, and police commissions. ”

Apart from its deleterious effect on lo

cal government, this fragmentation imprinted

itself on the evolving public worker unions, many of whom thoughtlessly adopted this social organization and made it the basis of their self-definition. As a result, molarity

any communities now possessed separate locals for inside

and outside city employees, public utility program perpetration and

public transportation workers, police officers and

firefighters, librarians and school janitors. public workers ’ self-definitions and

solidarities continued to be

shaped by the constrict contours of their employers. Public employee unionism was besides shaped by l

abour law. On the basis of the unprecedented and

destabilizing mobilization of proletarian

s in the wartime strike wave, the Canadian federal state was forced to

ordain legislation that would go beyond the IDIA and more

effectively regulate the conflict between capital

148 5

Laurel Sefton MacDowell, “The Formation of the Canadi

an Industrial Relations System During World War Two,”

Labour/Le

Travailleur

3 (Spring 1977): 179.

Fudge and Tucker, 273-4.

Wells, 209-212.

Frankel and Pratt, 2-3.

and labor. In particular, though the IDIA made the carbon

onciliation process compulsory, it was not mandatory

for the employer to accept a board ’ s decisiveness. In many cases, IDIA boards remained merely advisory, and in instances where the employer refused to recogni

ze and bargain with the union at all, were completely

unable to resolve labour-management disputes.

The labour movement’s growing discontent with labour

legislation not premised on the authenticity of unions fo

rced the federal government to shift course. In 1944,

Order-in-Council P.C. 1003 established

the right of workers to be represented by bodies of their own

choose and the duty of employers to recognize and bargain with those repres

entatives. Though initially

applicable lone to “ federal and war-related industries ”, provin

ces could opt in as they did with the IDIA. After

the war and an extended struggle by the labor movem

ent, these tenets were made the core of both

federal and provincial parturiency laws.

As well, the Rand Formula, the

arbitrated resolution of the 1945 strike

by autoworkers at Ford ’ sulfur Windsor plant, establis

hed the automatic dues check-off and the closed shop, in

which all workers had to pay dues to the union whether or not they were members.

However, such rules

placid did not apply to federal and peasant civil servants. The detail legal regimen adopted had several import

ant effects for public sector unionism. First,

this order-in-council mean that municipal workers,

who fell under private sector legislation in most

provinces, could retain their organizations even t

hough the labour market conditions under which they had

initially formed had dissipated. This more supportive lambert

egislation permitted public sector unions to establish

themselves on a more solid foot and prosecute triiodothyronine

he further development of their own organizations,

something which was missing in the period after the beginning World War.

However, these organizations would

have to cope with the increasingly complex legal rules which now enveloped certificate, collective
149 9

MacDowell, 191. Fudge and Tucker indicate that the Ontario Colle

ctive Bargaining Act resulted in 64 certifications of “employ

committees ”, half of which were actually caller unions

and therefore trumping “some of

the strongest statutory language

outlawing employer hindrance

with unions” (Fudge and Tucker, 272).

Palmer, 280; Fudge and Tucker, 274.

Power Workers’ Union, 10.

Ibid.

dicker and dispute resolution. As such, many pub

lic sector locals began to feel the need for forms of

expertness which they themselves did not possess

and could not afford to procure on their own.

second, and ascribable to pressure from the broader labor campaign, employer-dependent proletarian representation schemes like the Ontario Hydro ERP

were forced to become formally independent entities in

arrange to gain legal recognition as bargaining agents.

In order to appease employers, the 1943 Ontario

collective Bargaining Act did not make company

unions unambiguously illegal, but rather allowed non-

union bodies to be certified as collective dicker agents “ if they were reasonably mugwump. ”

1003 went further and did outlaw company unions, but di

d not stipulate that workers had to be represented

by unions, only that they had the right to be represented.

Between 1944 and 1948, however, continued

labor mobilization led the entrenchm

ent of these wartime measures

at both the federal and provincial

levels, and a further specification of the character of ‘ bona fide ’ worker representation. In Ontario, the 1947 Labour Relations Act went further than its 1943 vers

ion, and stipulated that “[t]o be entitled to legal

recognition as a union, an organization had to be financially independent of management. ”

These legal changes forced the Ontario Hydro Em

ployee Representation Plan to transform itself

into an independent example of workers, therefore

becoming the Ontario Hydro Employees’ Association

( OHEA ) in 1944. Given that “ the basic features of

a union structure were already in place”, gaining legal

recognition would merely require technical c

hanges: a self-made and approved constitution and dues paid

by the members.

The law therefore opened the door to

unionism and pushed Ontario Hydro workers

through it, a feat not potential through more traditional

means. In all other respects, however, the OHEA

anticipated remaining the same, particularly in its relationship to management. The OHEA ’ randomness origins as a
150 13

Ibid., 10-11.

Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 65. The CCL was formed by a merger of those organizing informally under the CIO

streamer and the affiliates of the canadian nationalist

union central, The All-Canadian Congress of Labour.

Power Workers’ Union, 14.

Kealey Cummings, interview by author,

17 December, 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON.

animal of the employer had long-la

sting effects on the consciousness and politics of the local’s leaders

and members. For case, the OHEA ’ s first presiden

t, Gordon Abbott, believed that “all differences could

be resolved through discussion and compromise. ” OHEA representatives continued to be influenced by the management ’ s vision of the Hydro ’ s stat

us as a “great instrument of public service”, due to which “much of

the differentiation between Managem

ent and Employee Representatives [lost] significance.”

This continued resistance to the estimate of unionism can besides be seen in the OHEA ’ sulfur pitched opposition to the IBEW ’ second repeated

organizing drives between 1944 and 1956.

Over this period, the OHEA

was highly loath to join the firm of labor, ev

en as a measure to fend off raids by the IBEW. In

February 1950, for example, the Association attempted to

resolve the raiding problem by affiliating with the

canadian Congress of Labour, since 1940 the union centrum

l assembling those committed to the industrial

coupling in Canada.

The membership rejected this option “by a good majority.”

This repudiation of any

dealings with the mainstream of the labor drift washington

s led by those who felt “their relationship with the

boss was fine ”, and that they did not need to belong to

a union, a position seen to be especially true of the

white collar workers in the head office.

In other words, financial independence did not automatically result

in psychological independence from management, or in

an adoption of a union identity, and in many ways

the OHEA continued to be a company union in spirit, if not in name. The new legal government had the foster effect of

creating a single-employ

er single-establishment

model of authentication which served to institutionaliz

e and freeze locals into small, fragmented units. The

emerging consensus amongst labor relations boards

now empowered to certify legal bargaining agents

was to define bargaining units according a preferably sodium

rrow understanding of “community of interest” which

151 17

Judy Fudge, “The Gendered Dimensions

of Labour Law: Why Women Need In

clusive Unionism and Broader-based

Bargaining ” in

Women Challenging Unions: Femi

nism, Democracy, and Militancy,

eds. L. Briskin and P. McDermott (Toronto:

University of Toronto, 1993 ), 234-5. 18

Frankel and Pratt, 7, 24, 28.

Crean, 44.

much took for granted the “ employer ’ sulfur initia

l decision about how to organize” the workplace.

Given the

highly disconnected structure of the

municipal state, many public

employee locals had narrow boundaries

that instilled and reproduced very

limited bonds of solidarity.

finally, provincial variations in the application

of labour law to municipal and public employees, a

site entrenched by the Judicial Committ

ee of the Privy Council’s 1925 decision in the

Snider

case,

affected the consolidation of unions in this sector.

While most provincial labour relations acts included

municipal workers under the lapp provisions as privat

e sector employees without caveat, in two provinces,

Ontario and New Brunswick, municipal governments were

given the discretionary power to decide whether

they would submit to the Act and permit corporate bargai

ning. While these opt-out clauses did not formally

prevent unionization, they did allow for anti-union molarity

unicipal councils to refuse any dealings with union

representatives and discriminate agains

t those who engaged in union activity.

This refusal to grant union

recognition could besides be used selectively, depending upon thyroxine

he relative power of the local in question: for

case, the Township of North York had bargaining relations with its external workers in local 94, but had refused to bargain with the female-dominated Local 373 until 1953.

The impact of this practice was in

some cases to keep groups operating as associations ra

ther than unions, but in other instances it was the

source of big dissatisfaction and gr

owing militancy. Moreover, these laws also signalled in a concrete

room that the origins of and the remedies to

public employee problems were not purely local.

Another herculean influence on the evolution of

public sector unionism was the increasing

bureaucratization of the Canadian labour movement moment

re generally. Although certainly full of important

variations, the overall tendency in the british labour party movem

ent in this period was to reshape union activities

152 20

Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement,

79-80.

Wells, 196.

Heron,

The Canadian Labour Movement

, 80.

towards “ negotiating and administering contracts ” and

away from “mobilizing masses of men and women.”

At the local anesthetic level, the acceptance of an “ orderly,

rule-bound regime based on contract with grievance and

arbitration procedures ” substituted for “ actor milit

ancy” and direct action, changing the kinds of union

leaders that would be required.

Both individual parent unions and labour federations significantly

expanded their full-time staff in the areas of education

and research, so as to provide technical support for

corporate bargain and other engagements

with the new labour law apparatus.

This change in the

conventional wisdom about which union functions we

re most important now

promoted the expert labour

professional as central to labour ’ sulfur build up. In

such a context, nascent public employee organizations,

already looked upon suspiciously by their private sector

counterpart as latecomers to the struggle, could

not help but see professionalization of their activiti

es as a means to being taken seriously in the labour

movement. Public proletarian organizations thus faced a common

and contradictory set of challenges in the post-

war period. The general course was towards consolidation of broader identitie

s and professionalization of

union functions. however, countervailing pressures

existed which worked against these dominant trends,

and interacted with the particularities of union cultur

es and traditions. We now turn to those organizations

to see how they coped with these issues. II.

From CETU to NUPSE: The Dream of Expansion

Those who had already developed broader organizations after the beginning World War were further expanding their setting at the end of the Second. In

1944, the surviving members of the CETU, along with

smaller numbers of municipal workers like the Ham

ilton Civic Employees Union, had recognized their

153 23

NUPSE, “Constitution and By-Laws”, October 1959: 18. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 4]

NOCUEW Constitution, 1945: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG I234, Vol. 5, File 4]

Irving Abella,

Nationalism, Communism, and Canadian Labour

(Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1995), 214.

common interests and banded together in a reconceived union, the National Organization of Civic, Utility and electric Workers ( NOCUEW ). This new union was

based explicitly on the principles of industrial

unionism and welcomed all classes of workers.

NOCUEW’s objective was “to unite all workers employed

by the municipalities, public and puerto rico

ivate utilities, and in the electrical industry”, an expansionist commitment

indicated by the inclusion body of civic workers in the coupling ’ s very name.

Indeed, the desire for expansion and

a authentically national union in the public sector was the

primary preoccupation of the union in this period.

What was driving this bay for a national marriage ? No doubt, the estimate of a common industrial identity, which had long been a potent copper

rrent in the CETU, was at play here. NOCUEW continued in this

commitment via their affiliation to the Canadian Congr

ess of Labour in 1947, which put it amongst some of

the most active, quickly expanding and brawny labour

organizations of the period. However, various

hardheaded concerns were equally potent. CETU

’s and NOCUEW’s membership in the CCL brought with

it authoritative pressures to create

a union in the public sector which would effectively compete with and

finally displace those affiliated to the Trades and Labour Congress. even though the CCL had always pursued closer ties, cooperation and joint action wisconsin

th the TLC, overtures which had been consistently

rebuffed by the latter,

there was no doubt that the CCL leader

ship believed the industrial union model

would well serve the interests of canadian proletarian

s. CETU’s limited concentration on public utilities

therefore had to be superceded in order to attract

new members. Expansion, its limits and its ensuing

conflicts were central problems faced by NOCUEW in this menstruation. NOCUEW ’ south ambitions were greater than its alternating current

hievements, however, and the organization was

unable to attract members in the numbers t

hat had been hoped. Between 1945 and 1952, the issue of

expansion was constantly on the agenda at executive

meetings, but the discussions were centred on

154 26

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, June 18, 1950: 4;

October 15, 1950; December 3, 1950; February 23, 1952. All

CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2 ] 27

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 3, 1950: 1.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, October 15,

1950; February 11, 1956; CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234,

Vol. 6, File 4 ] ; September 9-10, 1960. CUPE Fonds

[NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 6]

Little quoted in Thomas, 63. NOCUEW’s 15 locals in 1952 were

: Local 1 Toronto Hydro, Local

2 Toronto Transit Commission

electricians, local 3 Sault St Marie Public Utilities Commissi

on and civic, Local 4 London civic,

Local 5 Hamilton civic, Local

Sudbury Civic, Local 7 Guelph civil, local 8 York Township Hydr

o, Local 9 Kingston civic, Local

10 Timmins public works, Local

11 North York Hydro, Local 12 Chatham curie

vic, Local 13 Chatham water works, Local 14 Forest Hill / Strathroy Hydro, and Local

15 Brockville civil. potential members rather than ac

tual organizing victories. An

organizing drive begun in 1950 amongst

Ottawa civic and hydro workers produced nothing despi

te staffer Lionel Gladu’s reports of “making good

advance ” after two years of attempt.

Talk of using activists from Locals 4 and 5 to draw TLC-affiliated civic

employees in London and Hamilton into the Union fluorine

aded by the end of 1950 as NOCUEW could not find

any organizers interest in the task.

The idea of having the civic workers’ unions in Winnipeg and

Montreal function as regional offices of NOCUEW washington

s but a distant hope only to be realized in the late

1950s.

As a result of this accumulation of false st

arts, the Union had organized or attracted only 15 locals

between 1944 and 1951.

There were growing worries inside and outside the Union that NOCUEW was

permanently stalled. What explains this failure to expand, given the

fairly ripe conditions for unionization and the support

of the CCL ? The leadership had a litany of explanations

for NOCUEW’s difficulties, discussed at length in a

December 1950 Executive Board suffer. In particular,

T.F. “Stevie” Stevenson, business agent of Toronto

Hydro Local 1, NOCUEW Secretar

y and Toronto-area servicing repr

esentative, was the person most creditworthy for servicing and organizing and therefore was front and center in attempts to justify NOCUEW ’ s disappointing results frankincense far. The rela

tively high per capita levied by NOCUEW made it much

less “ competitive ” in comparison with directly c

hartered TLC locals: while the TLC charged 10 cents to

affiliate, NOCUEW charged 75 cents, having barely increas

ed its per capita by 50% at the 1950 Convention.

ironically, this relatively high gear per caput was itself

partly generated by the failure to expand, for this union

155 30

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 27, 1950: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2];

Barnetson, 1965 : 5. Barnetson reports that he resigned as President of Local 1 in 1947, when he was appointed to the Personnel Department of Toronto Hydro at

the request of the union to carry out the

design of a new job classification scheme

( Barnetson, 5 ; Ashworth, 205 ). According to NOCUEW docum

ents, however, that he continued on as President of NOCUEW

until 1950, when he was replaced at the 1950 convention by James

Clark. It seems that for 3 years, NOCUEW was led by a

member of management. One wonders at the

implications of this for the union’s dev

elopment in the period. On the question of

organizing, given that, by this clock, attempts to raid TLC

locals in London and Hamilton had already commenced to no avail, the

trouble was not merely one of will or

an overly burdensome sense of ethics.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 27, 1950: 1.

Henry Rhodes was the CCL’s main organizer in Ontario in

this period (Abella, 1973: 96). Rhodes conducted an investigation

for the CCL to determine the nature of local anesthetic 7 ’ mho grievances

and what if anything could be done to keep them within NOCUEW.

After meeting with the local, Rhodes determined that Stevenson wa

s the problem, and that the local would go to the TLC unless

( continued … ) with a little number of locals felt it had to fund organizing efforts from the centre. The Union ’ s miss of emergence besides had to do with the ‘ saturation ’ of thei

r still narrowly defined jurisdiction. Stevenson argued that

the Union had organized about every group of municipal

and public utility workers in Ontario cities larger

than 15,000 people. At this point ( in 1950 ), Stev

enson contended, “the only field left open to extend our

membership in the Province was in raiding triiodothyronine

he Trades and Labour Congress of Canada affiliates.” For

Stevenson himself, this site would have constitu

ted no barrier; rather, it was Albert M. Barnetson,

president of both the Toronto Hy

dro local since 1923 and of NOCUEW from its inception, who did not

consider it “ good ethics ” to raid the TLC. With

Barnetson replaced by James Clark at the 1950 Convention

in Hamilton, “ the straight-jacket was nowadays off ” and the Union would attempt to attract the already- organized.

The inability to expand was besides fuelled by growing

internal dissatisfaction. Several of the union’s

locals had begun complaining to the CCL of poor people service over the by two years.

Unlike Local 1, most

NOCUEW affiliates did not have their own business

agents and were serviced directly by the national

union. With the head office in Toronto, and the majori

ty of locals clustered in Southern Ontario, such

servicing was promptly provided. however, triiodothyronine

he CCL had been hearing complaints from the London local

since 1948, and had received at the end of 1950 an applicat

ion for direct affiliation from NOCUEW Local 7,

representing civil workers in Guelph.

This news arrived on the heels of the Sudbury local’s expression of

156 ( … continued ) the CCL offered them a send charter, which they did in early 1951 ( H. Rhodes, “ Report

on Meeting with Guelph Branch of

NOCUEW ”, January 3, 1951 : 4 ; NOCUEW, National Executive B

oard minutes, January 26, 1951:

1-2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc.

MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2 ] ). 33

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, October 15, 1950.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 27, 1950: 1.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minut

es, December 3, 1950: 1; Thomas, 63.

a desire to leave NOCUEW due to the CCL ’ mho ejection of

the International Union of Mine Mill and Smelter

Workers.

In 1951, the two Chatham-area locals also attempted to decertify. These internal problems were

obviously turning off likely members a well, w

ho were wary “due to stories they had heard about the

administration of [ the union ’ s ] affairs. ”

These inner conflicts partially concerned the major difficulties faced in expansion, namely the symmetry of might between old and new groups in the union, and the challenge that fresh groups posed to established identities. Despite the gestures to a red brigades

oader scope, CETU’s originating local continued to play

a identify function : not alone did Local 1 call the meet to

form NOCUEW, it also provided the union’s top two

officers for about a ten, with Barnetson as Pr

esident, and Stevenson as Secretary. The historical

meaning of this local was not lost on its own

representatives. Stevenson was happy to remind others

that the germinal function of local 1 in the constitution

of CETU gave it both a special responsibility and a moral

stature to which other locals should aspire.

This sense of importance and the way it informed the actions

of the union ’ s early leaders was not constantly fruitful in

building an inclusive organization, and fostered the

conflict between the original and new locals, which happened to be coincident with divisions between the central and local administrations. This clash was besides expressed in terms of who in the union should have the exponent to decide what kind of information would be given to the penis

ship. In 1949, for instance, Stevenson ignored the

decisions of both the National Executive and the 1948

National Convention and wrote directly to local

branches in an undertake to receive a mandate from deoxythymidine monophosphate

hem to increase his salary. Leaders of the Guelph and

157 36

H. Rhodes, “Report on Meeting with Guelph Branch of NOCUEW”, January 3, 1951: 2.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 27, 1950: 1.

NOCUEW, National Executive Boar

d minutes, December 3, 1950: 1-2.

London locals, both of whom sat on the National Ex

ecutive which had denied the increase, objected

strenuously to this tactic and refused to read the request to

their respective memberships. In this they were

supported by then-President Barnetson, whose interpre

tation of the powers of lo

cal presidents – that they

could select which communications were read to the

membership – was at complete odds with that of

Stevenson.

Stevenson persisted in communicating directly wi

th the locals, leading to, in his words, “a

despiteful campaign against the Secretary. ”

The CCL and local NOCUEW representatives absolved

ly believed the Union’s stagnation was due to

problems with leadership, namely Stevenson

himself, who had been Secretary-Treasurer,

de facto

union

organizer, servicing congressman and negotiator of

collective agreements for the better part of a decade.

As the only full-time elected officeholder, he in effect func

tioned as chief administrator of the organization with all

the smell of expertness and see that implies. Hi

s stamp on the early recor

ded history of the Union is

undeniable. As Secretary, Stevenson

routinely depicted himself in a most favourable light in the debates at

the National Executive Board ; indeed,

few others appear to have spoken if his minutes are to be believed.

constantly in high dudgeon, Stevenson frequently and paternalistically dressed down others who were in his view insufficiently aware of how the Union did

and should operate. Two colourful episodes stand out. In

one, a dispute with local 8 over the amount which

should be paid to fulfill a special assessment to help

Hamilton Local 5 after their 39-day hit for the 40-

hour work week in 1950, Stevenson implied that the

York Township local did not understand they we

re part of a national union, bound by the National

Convention ’ sulfur decisions, and that they were unwilling to

help Hamilton members in their time of distress.

158 39

H. Rhodes, “Report on Meeting with Guelph Branch of NOCUEW”, January 3, 1951: 2.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 27, 1950: 2.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 3, 1950: 2.

H. Rhodes, “Report on Meeting with Guelph Branch of NOCUEW”, January 3, 1951: 4.

another, in response to a section of Guelph Local 7 ‘s willingness to accept an 8-cent quite than 10-cent engage increase, Stevenson called them as a “ bunch of

hicks” who did not know what they were doing.

Underneath the veneer of self-promotion found

in the minutes, however, one detects undeniable

and growing dissatisfaction with Stevenson ’ mho leadership st

yle. In dispute was not the appropriate functions

to be carried out by the cardinal office, but rather thyroxine

he type and style of leader who was carrying them out. It

was Stevenson ’ s sense of omniscience and his preference for unilateral military action and direct appeals to members over the heads of local leaders that had led

directly to the Guelph local’s exit from the

administration. Questions were besides being asked about Stevenson ’ randomness ability as an organizer and negotiator, not about whether the central function should be in

volved in local affairs. NOCUEW had been unable to

procure agreements for the locals in Kingston, Bellev

ille and Cornwall, with the Town Council of Belleville

refusing to deal with Stevenson as negotiator. Stevenson was unwilling to sign “ poor people ” agreements “ to satisfy a cheap group of Politicians in any Municipality. ”

Even when put in diplomatic terms by York

Township Local 8, who “ believed a certain total of

difficulty could be overcome [in Toronto] … if a part-

time Representative was engaged to relieve the Secretar

y of some of his duties, in order that the

membership … could get more service ”, Stevenson r

eplied that the Toronto membership should grow up

and take province for their own negotiations and objec

ted to the decision to employ President Clark as

the part-time rep.

Dispatched by the CCL to investigate

the claims of the Guelph local and assess

whether to grant them a target rent, Rhodes ’

conclusion in January 1951 was clear: “there was no real

grievance against the National Organization of Civic,

Utility and Electrical Workers, but rather, their

grudge was directed entir

ely at Brother Stevenson.”

159 43

Mills,

The New Men of Power

, 100, 105.

Ibid., 97.

While these conflicts appear on the surface to be

personal in nature, they reflect the growing

consensus that a fresh type of leadership was required if

the union’s central office was to carry out its duties

effectively. The kinds of leaders which emerged

out of the CETU era, represented by Stevenson in

particular, were there from the beginning, had ri

sen up through the ranks and had endured struggles for

union survival. They had developed a smell of indispensability, accustomed to being decision-makers and to the condition that accompanied t

heir long tenure in the movement.

Others, however, were beginning to

advocate a ‘ new ’ and more professional kind of leadership armed with cognition and a facility for persuasion, based on what was emerging in the rest

of the labour movement and especially in the CIO /

CCL unions.

As in all unions, it took a fight to determi

ne which style would prevail in NOCUEW. In the

end, a consensus emerged around what were seen as

the “practical needs” of the organization and what

was required to meet them : the superintendent

session of the old model of leadership.

The publish came to a capitulum in 1950. With new members uninterested and existing members dysphoric, something had to be done. At a meeting held

at the end of the year,

CCL Secretary-Treasurer

Pat Conroy and organizer Henry Rhodes were expressi

ng concern that NOCUEW was not fulfilling its role

and was losing the field to the TLC. The failure to expand in Ontario was a likely threat to the growth of a truly national union for municipal

employees within the CCL. If NOCUEW couldn’t

draw in and keep new members in their home province, how could they hope to draw in groups from Quebec or the Prairies ? As a solution of these concerns, Conroy and

Rhodes recommended to the December 1950 Executive

meeting that a full-time Organizing Director be appointed, with the CCL to foot the bill. This decision led to an important shift in NOCUEW, both in terms of drawing card

ship and of organizational success. Specifically, it

precipitated the passing of Stevenson, who clearly sa

w this new staff position as a threat to his own

160 45

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, December 27, 1950: 4.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, January 28, 1951: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2]

H. Rhodes, “Report on Meeting with Guelph Branch of NOCUEW”, January 3, 1951: 3.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, January 28, 1951: 3.

NOCUEW, National Executive Board minutes, May 5, 1951: 1; J

une 3, 1951. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File

2 ] centrality in the administration, as indeed it was. He dec

lared to the National Executive that, if they were to

harmonize to the CCL ’ second marriage proposal, “ they must first underst

and this so-called Director was not going to be in

charge of the Secretary-Treasurer in his office ; if that was sol … [ he ] would resign immediately. ”

Despite this

menace, in January 1951 the Executive Board accepted t

he CCL’s offer subject to their approval of the

campaigner to become Director of Organization.

In the six months that followed the meet with Conroy and Rhodes, the Executive believed they faced a choi

ce between the growth of the union and the personal

ambitions of Stevenson. While many local leaders, most notably those from London and Guelph, had agreed deoxyadenosine monophosphate early as 1949 that Stevenson had to be remo

ved, such a move was postponed as there was no

suitable refilling for him at the clock.

Moreover, his continued presence, the cause of so much turmoil,

deterred anyone from stepping up to ta

ke on this important position.

The Executive Board opted to wait

for Stevenson to hang himself. After intentionally faili

ng to inform a new executive member of the May

1951 meet, Stevenson was instructed by the Executive to apologize. This ‘ Stevie ’ would not do : he insisted that he would not work with James Walke

r, the representative from

London Local 4, and that the

executive choose between the two men. W

hen the Executive again demanded an apology, Stevenson

resigned, and his subsequent attempts to call an hand brake conventionality to consider the battle were rejected.

At this moment, a new type of leadership eclips

ed the old. With the creation of the appointed and

functionally differentiated place of Director of Organization, NOCUEW had

clearly stepped onto the road

of professionalization and bureaucratization of leadership.

In the moment, this move made sense in terms

of the motivation to decrease the excessive and irrational prisoner of war

er of a particular individual, and to give specific

161 50

D. Downey, “CUPE Boss Tripled Union’s Membership: Foundi

ng President Took His Workers ‘From an Era of Collective

Begging to Collective Bargaining ’ ”

Globe and Mail

, 19 May 2000: R6; Committee for Stanley

Little, “ Think Big, Vote Little ”, tract, 1967. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 46, File 11 ]. Interestingly, the NEB minutes are far less detail after short became Secretary, an east

ation to be adopted by CUPE after 1967.

The Public Employee

9 (3), Fall 1988: 4; NUPSE, “Consti

tution and By-Laws”, October 1959: 18.

Little quoted in Thomas, 63.

attention to organizing. indeed, this variety did us

her in a period of aggressive and relatively more

successful expansion. Although the leadership struggle was about more deoxythymidine monophosphate

han changing personnel, this factor also turned

out to be very authoritative. The passing of Stevens

on opened up the space for another strong personality to

imprint himself on the organization. Stan Little had been a fabric worker blacklisted for leading a strike in 1931. In 1941, he became a member of Local 8, Yo

rk Township Hydro, and was elected as NOCUEW’s

Secretary-Treasurer at thyroxine

he September 1951 Convention.

A mere two months after his election, Little was

named Director of Organization and besides took on the function

of Acting Secretary for another two years. Now in

charge of NOCUEW ’ s organizing direction, Little placed ex

pansion at the centre of the union’s activities.

little set immediately to work on further expandi

ng the union’s self-definition and organizing scope.

In September 1952, less than a year after his

appointment, NOCUEW metamorphosed into the National

Union of Public Service Employees ( NUPSE ) at a “ establish convention ” attended by civic employees and hydro workers from Toronto, Sudbury,

London, Sault Ste Marie and St Catharines.

In an interview years

later, Little said they changed the name because “ NOCUEW was a pain to say. ”

However, the new name

besides signalled an even broader invention of the coupling ’ s ju

risdiction: now, they would aim to organize all

workers in the public service, an border on which pushed past industrial to general unionism. NUPSE would more actively pursue municipal, hospital

and board of education workers, and workers beyond the

Ontario molding, diluting reasonably the control condition held historically by electrical utility workers and generating some serious home conflicts This expansion of

scope would also eventually bring the union into direct

162 53

Ibid.

MacDonald, a member of the United Minewor

kers of America, became Secretary-Tr

easurer of the CCL (and later the merged

CLC ) after Conroy ’ sulfur resignation in 1951 ( Abella, 203, 208 ). 55

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes

, September 11, 1952. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2]

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, November 1, 1952. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2]

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, December 6, 1952. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2]

conflict with the early unions in the field, namely its soon-to-be counterpart in the TLC, the National Union of Public Employees. however, Little besides faced the CCL ’ s contradictory access to the question of public employee organizing. Although in 1950 the CCL had been implemental

creating the ‘right’ internal conditions for

expansion and the amalgamation of assorted components into a national coupling in the jurisdiction, their side on who precisely would organize the populace sector

was not clearly formulated at this point. In 1953,

the CCL clearly had a “ union broadcast ” to conso

lidate its public sector affiliates into a national

organization which would initially include unions from Ontario, Saskatchewan and Manitoba.

However,

despite the name switch and newly personnel, doubts lingered about NUPSE ’ s ability to live up to expectations. CCL officials continually delayed determining which union would be chosen to do the unionize, and between 1952 and 1955 refused to expand NUPSE ’ s legal power beyond Ontario. In late 1952, Donald McDonald

of the CCL indicated to Little that the

union’s attempt to organize workers in Fort

San, Saskatchewan was beyond their jurisdiction.

This seemed in direct contradiction with the pressure

received from Conroy and Rhodes good two years earlier

to get the Union in a position to organize outside of

Ontario. As a solution, NUPSE was forced to make a form

al application to the CCL to clarify its jurisdiction.

Six months passed with fiddling progress, despite a

CCL committee set up to review organizing in the public

sector.

By April of 1953, and perhaps tired of waiti

ng, NUPSE applied for a transfer of all directly

163 58

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, April 11, 1953. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2]

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, June 9, 1953. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 2]

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, May 8, 1954. CU

PE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 3]

Frankel and Pratt, 3; Pringle, 57.

The Vancouver Civic Employees Union,

formerly Local 28 of the TLC, approached NUPSE in April of 1955 interested in

affiliation. however, both NUPSE and the CCL were extremely washington

ry of taking this group in, as

they had been expelled from the

tender loving care in 1950 for having come under the “ Communist determine ” of

the Labour Progressive Party ( R. Rintoul, letter to NUPE

Executive Board members, Secretaries of

Local Unions and Provinci

al Organizations, November

26, 1956: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 3 ] ). small believed that t

he union was “basically sound” save for one staffer “obviously using

his

military position to promote Communist party petty officer

litics.” Evidently, however, Little was

more concerned with numbers than ideology, and

he likely believed that these elements could be controlled

or eliminated once inside NUPSE. The CCL, on the other hand,

seemed less uncoerced to put ideology aside for the sake of num

bers: though Joe MacKenzie (later the CLC’s Director of

organization ) argued that NUPSE could not enter

tain the VCEU’s application to affiliate since its jurisdiction was confined to

lake ontario, it is probable that this was an excuse to keep the B.

C. Communists out (NUPSE, National

Executive Board minutes, June 5,

1955 : 2. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 3 ] ). In any case, the VCEU did not affiliate with NUPSE at this tim

and only reentered CUPE in the later 1960s as local 1004. 63

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, December 5, 1955. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 3]

chartered public employee groups in the CCL.

Again, the Union was put off with the prospect of a

conference on a national union for public employees

to be held in Winnipeg in June of that year.

The Winnipeg Conference led to the formation of

a Public Service Organizing Committee (PSOC),

modelled on the CIO/CCL twin body organizing st

eelworkers, the Steelworkers Organizing Committee

( SWOC ) so successful in the 1940s. It was hoped

that PSOC would bring about the national union so

many desired ; indeed, NUPSE ’ mho per capita tax increas

e at its September 1954 convention was explicitly

tied to the need to support this committee and realize the union of public employees groups.

The

PSOC brought NUPSE, and Little in particular as the Union ’ s

representative, into direct contact with several

early groups later authoritative in the Union ’ s expans

ion, namely the Winnipeg Civic Federation which had

south korean won documentation for all of Winnipeg ’ s municipal employees in 1949.

The Union ’ s higher profile outside of Ontario besides attracted interest from curie

vic workers in Montreal and Vancouver.

However, the PSOC does

not seem to have produced much in the way of newfangled or

ganizing; rather, it seemed to function as a meeting

place for already existing unions in the lapp jurisdiction. furthermore, it seems to have collapsed by the end of 1955 with Winnipeg workers leaving in frustration

and instead considering a direct affiliation to NUPSE

itself.

164 64

This local has over the years undergone seve

ral transformations reflected most obviously in its name, which can lead to some

total of confusion. between 1935 and 1944, the workers were

members of the Hydro Electr

ic Power Commission Employees

representation design ( HEPC ERP ). After 1944 and until 1956, they

were the independent Ontario Hydro Employees Association

( OHEA ). With the entrance into NUPSE and the bona fide deal union

movement, the Association changed its name to the Ontario

Hydro Employees Union ( OHEU ), by which it was known until 1963.

With the formation of CUPE in 1963, the union came to be

known as local 1000, until 1996 when, under the leadership of

John Murphy, the name Power Workers’ Union was adopted.

( continued … ) Given the difficulties faced in organizing new wo

rkers, Little embarked on a new strategy which

was to alter NUPSE ’ s character and inner dynamics. Rather than focus on organizing the unorganized, little turned his attention to courting big and already organized groups of public sector workers who had, until nowadays, remained outside of the mainstream of

the Canadian labour movement. It was believed that

such a scheme would result in a rapid and relatively low-cost increase in NUPSE ’ mho membership, power and status. however, the techniques required no longer

placed emphasis on convincing each member to join

the union and adopt its identity as their own ; quite,

assimilation of already-existing groups meant direct

negotiations and deal-making with leaders. not only were these talks typically outside of the membership ’ sulfur examination, they besides involved particular kinds of comprehensive examination

romises which usually involved retention of the group’s

autonomy, distinct identity and model

of unionism, and financial resources. While such arrangements were

intended as transitional measures to meet the pragm

atic goal of expansion, individuals easily remained or

became invested in the power these structures prov

ided them. However, with these implications

unforseen, NUPSE initiated this newly approach to gr

owth by turning to a much sought-after group

historically aloof to the labor movemen

t: the Ontario Hydro Employees Association.

III.

Courting the OHEU: Autonomy comes to NUPSE

NUPSE ’ second expansion into early public sector workplaces between 1952 and 1956 did attenuate slightly the office of members from the hydro southeast

ctor. However, these developments could not hope to

counter the determine that would be exercised by what

would become NUPSE’s largest affiliate, the Ontario

Hydro Employees Association.

The entry of OHEA into NUPSE in 1956 reinforced the union’s orientation

165 ( … continued ) Changes in the union ’ s mention reflect authoritative

shifts in identity and self-definition, as well as their connection to other levels of

CUPE and the canadian tug bowel movement. 65

Power Workers’ Union, 15.

OHEU, Coordinating Committee minutes, J

anuary 30-31, 1958: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11]

to electric utility workers, but besides introduced

a powerful and vehement advocate of local autonomy into

NUPSE ’ s midst. As a holocene history produced by the lo

cal points out, “[f]or several years, there were more

members in the Ontario Hydro Employees Union deoxythymidine monophosphate

han in the rest of NUPSE, making OHEU a dominant

power. ”

Despite sharing an identity as hydro workers wi

th many NUPSE members, employees of Ontario

Hydro cling to autonomy, not least because of their committedness to a more conciliatory approach to union- management relations. In other words, OHEA was cutting

to maintain a distinct structure and identity in

NUPSE ’ s midst because of their different ideas about unions ’ allow functions. The importance of OHEA to NUPSE ’ s organizational health frankincense made the symmetry between autonomy and central restraint a key issue facing the union. Though the majority of OHEA ’ s membership was message with a formally freelancer organization that put rational number cooperation with management firs

t, there were forces which eventually pushed the

Association into the orbit of NUPSE and the labor missouri

vement. Despite the overwhelming votes to remain

out of the IBEW and the CCL, there was constantly a

substantial minority – about a quarter – of the

membership who were pro-union. Their presenc

e, combined with heightened membership expectations

emerging from the contest

with the IBEW, forced the OHEA to behave in ‘unionate’ ways and to

prove they were not a ‘ party union ’. T

hese union-like activities entailed more aggressive

negotiating positions, demands for the close shop, and the expansion of staff, including a full-time organizer. furthermore, these members argued that

there was an “increasing need … to share interests

and responsibilities with early organized labor groups. ”

These trends were reinforced by the changing

attitude of management towards the EA, which c

ould be seen as early as 1945, when the company

166 67

Power Workers’ Union, 11-3.

OHEU, Coordinating Committee

minutes, January 30-31, 1958: 2.

John Williams,

The Story of Unions in Canada

(Toronto: J.M. Dent and Sons, Ltd., 1975), 192.

C. Jodoin, letter to S. Little, May 2, 1963: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 12]

suddenly stopped deducting Association dues after three months of having done so. The Hydro ’ south discomfort with an independent administration continued to grow, and in 1951, the HEPC management signed a collective agreement with several trades unions

in Niagara, and even provided time off to sign up

members, in an undertake to divide the work force in

to different – and hopefully less effective – unions.

These moves resulted in the OHEA ’ s successful fight

for the union shop, but also led to a disenchantment

with management amongst the EA ’ s members and a recognition that the support of the labor bowel movement might be increasingly necessary.

ultimately, however, the most convincing arkansas

gument for the OHEA joining NUPSE centred around

the hope to save on the costs of defending agains

t repeated raiding attempts by the IBEW while

preserving their autonomy and particular

approach to labour-management relations.

With the merger of

the TLC and CCL approaching by 1954-55, the question

of affiliation to the broader labour movement

became more urge, and the desire to be covered

under the ‘no-raiding’ pact which was signed the two

federations ’ Unity Committee in 1954 propelled the

OHEA executive to revisit their options in 1954.

however, direct affiliation to the CCL, which

had been contemplated and rejected in 1950, was no longer

available. indeed, the CCL leadership explicitly deni

ed direct affiliation to OHEA to help NUPSE, as CLC

president of the united states Claude Jodoin pointed out in a communication wisconsin

th the latter: “It was the pressure exerted upon

them by officials of the CCL and that torso ’ s absolute

refusal to accept them as a separate affiliate (to

protect your jurisdictional rights )

that forced them to join NUPSE.”

OHEA therefore had to look to an

already-affiliated coupling to join .
167 71

Power Workers’ Union, 14.

OHEU, Coordinating Committee

minutes, January 30-31, 1958: 2.

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, April 27, 1957: 3. CUPE

Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 4]. I have not

been able to determine if there was any real number terror by the CL

C leadership to unilaterally di

sband NUPSE; however, Little clearl

believed such an inevitability was in the offing if he did not takes steps to prevent it. NUPSE was a logical choice for OHEA, given the

large number of municipal hydro locals already

present there.

Indeed, OHEA felt a “common bond” based on their status as “employees of public

administrations ” angstrom well as members of

industrial rather than craft organizations.

NUPSE also made

sense as a little union desperate for members and therefore

more likely to negotiate a merger agreement to

get OHEA in at closely any cost. While NUPSE ’ s ost

ensible motivation for pursuing OHEA was “to better

coordinate our efforts to increase the benefit of

municipal Hydro and utility employees”, its immediate

concern was preventing its eliminati

on from the new CLC. With the CLC merger, there were now three

other unions competing for members with NUPSE – the

smallest and most vulnerable of the four to being

disbanded. As was distinctly recognized by Little at

the time, the “proposed disposal [of NUPSE] was

stopped alone because the employees of the Ontario Hydro

decided in sufficient time prior to the Congress

amalgamation to identify themselves with our union. ”

In other words, NUPSE was fighting for its life. OHEA

leaders were well mindful that, in these conditions, they

could get themselves a significant amount of space

inside NUPSE, particularly given their proportional size.

They believed they could get the protection of CCL

membership without having to comp

romise their own brand of unionism.

The terms on which OHEA joined NUPSE, subsequently the capable of much remark and controversy, reflected just how search after thes

e workers were. OHEA clearly had the upper hand in this

amalgamation, since with approximately 10,000 members,

OHEA would triple NUPSE’s membership overnight

and arguably boost its ability to attract new members. The Memorandum of Understanding reached between NUPSE and OHEA was “ singular in canadian labor hello

story”, according to the local’s own account

forty years later .
168 74

Power Workers’ Union, 15.

The Council of Chief Stewards was originally the Committ

ee of Employee Representatives

and functioned as part of the

advisory process under the Empl

oyee Representation Plan. When t

he OHEA became an independent union, they

maintained this representative structure.

The Council consists of representatives el

ected for four-year terms from the various

regions where Ontario Hydro workers are

employed, and meets every fall to elect t

he union executive and set union policies. It

the Council of Chief Stewards which leads the local to claim it

is “one of the most democratic unions in North America” (Power

Workers ’ Union, 32 ). 76

Power Workers’ Union, 15, 13.

C. Jodoin, letter to S. Little, May 2, 1963: 1.

J.R. Walker, “Report of Meeting on Jurisdiction and Unit

y between OHEU and NUPSE”, April 20, 1959: 5. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 3 ] ; OHEU,

Coordinating Committee minut

es, January 30-31, 1958: 2.

The Association was to enjoy entire autonomy to conduct

its own affairs without any interference from NUPSE.

It would service its own members, not call on NU

PSE resources at all, and would not be bound by any

decisions made by the NUPSE Executiv

e Board or Conventions, on any matter. The ten cents monthly per

head paid to NUPSE would go wholly to pay the

CCL’s per capita, making NUPSE little more than an

amateur collection means for the CCL

In a realization of their ‘ new ’ condition and identit

y upon joining NUPSE, however, the OHEA did change its

appoint to the Ontario Hydro Employees ’ Union ( OHEU ). interestingly, however, this highly fa

vourable deal, though recommended in 1955 by OHEA’s

“ fantan ”, the Counc

il of Chief Stewards,

was approved only by a narrow margin in December of that

year. This ambivalent result spoke to the cont

inuing and deep divisions that remained within the Hydro

membership over identity and what kind of unionism they desired. These forces had opposed the home changes which threatened what some hush viewed as

their “generally amicable relationship with the

Commission. ”

Joining NUPSE and the CCL would only furt

her exacerbate the “decline” in labour-

management cooperation, and many were not lament. J

odoin reminded Little years later that “[t]he Ontario

Hydro Employees ’ Union wanted protection from raiding a

ll right, but they were anything but anxious to join

NUPSE to get it. ”

Many within the OHEU called this “labour blackmail”, and even the leadership wanted

not to merge, but to move “ only far enough in to get the IBEW off [ their ] backs. ”

The presence of anti-

union forces resentful of being pushed into organiz

ed labour created an ever-present threat of OHEU

leaving NUPSE, which subsequently cast a shadow

over the organization and was to have a profound

169 79

OHEU, Executive Board, November 8, 1957: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 8]

influence on the amalgamation terms belated negotiated with NU

PE. A condition of NUPSE’s own survival was that

OHEU would constantly have to be satisfied and kept in the union at all costs. But this section of anti-union membership would al

so prove useful to the OHEU leadership as a

breakwater against full integration into the NUPSE stru

cture and a means to preserve the scope of their

control. In November 1957, the OHEU membership ’ sulfur “ miss of awareness ” of the benefits of belonging to a larger union structure was offered as

justification for not moving closer

to NUPSE over the biennial period of their agreement of Understanding.

While the ostensible reason given for the lack of “educational work”

was the necessitate to fight off the Hydro Commission ’ s c

hallenge of OHEU’s bargaining rights through 1956, it

was besides the “ democratic restraint ” of the membersh

ip which prevented full integration, a restraint that

OHEU leaders were not in a rush to dismantle. however, the inner geomorphologic changes made by NUPSE as a circumstance of OHEU ’ south entrance into the union muddied the rendition that a amalgamation had not

taken place. The Executive Board was expanded

significantly and the now three Vice-Presidents eac

h headed the three newly created Divisional Advisory

Boards set up for members in the hydro-utility, megabyte

unicipal, and hospital and school board sectors. In other

words, NUPSE was moving towards sectoral structures

which were intended to “deal with servicing and

organizational problems ” of these groups of proletarian

s and which reflected the basis of OHEU’s strong

identity. however, NUPSE besides plac

ed important limitations

on the extent to which OHEU could participate

in the broader coupling ’ s decision-making bodies, indeed as

to prevent their overwhelming the union via their

superior numbers. representation to convention washington

s calculated on a different basis, and OHEU members

could alone be eligible for top administrator positions a

fter serving for two years as a member-at-large on the

executive board. While the latter restrictions were seen by OHEU as evidence that they had affiliated
170 80

OHEU, Coordinating Committee

minutes, January 30-31, 1958: 3-4.

Lenihan, 168, 175.

“ under terms that did not subordinate [ them ] to the

NUPSE Constitution”, the natur

e of the representational

relationships indicated that they were now region of a ‘ parent body ’.

little ’ second scheme to expand the coupling via the relati

vely centralist means of merger negotiations with

already established organizations therefore resulted in

some important decentralizing trends. Though the

agreement with OHEU was a leadership affair, the

process introduced into NUPSE’s midst a group with a

preexistent identity and smell of what a union shoul

d do, and thus a force for autonomy from the National

agency and Convention. The pressures inside OHEU

against full integration into NUPSE would haunt the

marriage well into the future, and threaten to undo what one had already been constructed. The equivocal nature of the Memorandum of Underst

anding would fuel the debates over whether OHEU was actually part

of NUPSE, and rate an important obstacle in the way

of future expansion, namely with its soon-to-be

counterpart in the TLC, NUPE. IV.

Locals Create a National Union: NUPE’s Municipal Unions and Local Autonomy

If expansion was the major preoccupation of NU

PSE and its predecessors, then consolidation of

the boastfully archipelago of already-existing public em

ployee unions haunted those in the TLC. In many

respects, expansion was not a real problem for the TLC,

for many locals in municipalities, school boards,

hospitals and even universities continued to form on deoxythymidine monophosphate

heir own and directly affiliate to the craft-union

federation. The real challenge was how to get thes

e locals together. While there had been idle talk about

the idea since the 1940s, “ identical little had been done to bring it into being. ”

Such discussions took place in

the context of mighty centrifugal forces. There were a number of strong pressures that kept the TLC-chartered locals apart. First was the power of geography : locals were spread from coast to

coast across a large array of municipalities, and

171 82

N.A. (Rintoul / NUPE Merger Committee), “Statement

on Merger of NUPE and NUPSE by the National Union of Public

Employees ”, May 12, 1961 : 2. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 27 ] 83

N.A. (Rintoul / NUPE Merger Committee), “Statement on

Merger of NUPE and NUPSE by the National Union of Public

Employees ”, May 12, 1961 : 2. 84

Gregor Murray, “Steeling for Change: Organization and

Organizing in Two USWA Districts in Canada,” in

Organizing to Win:

New Research on Union Strategies

, eds. K. Bronfenbrenner, et.al. (Ithaca, NY

/ London: Cornell University Press, 1998), 323.

could often not afford to attend the conventions where they could meet and discuss their common difficulties and interests. Added to this was the longs

tanding nature of many of

the locals and the tradition

of autonomy and autonomy they had developed. In

particular, the larger and older locals formed

sui

generis

in the crucible of the First World War mainta

ined autonomy as their central organizational principle,

a commitment which held a set of carry. furthermore, as

directly chartered members of the TLC, municipal

locals had paid a very low per caput – between 5

and 10 cents per month – and had received “very limited

direction, servicing, or aid from the TLC. ”

To fill this gap, many locals had elected or hired full-

time business agents, who themselves felt a sense of

ownership over their locals’ affairs, having become

accustomed to complete autonomy “ equally far as poli

cy, contract settlements, negotiations etc.” were

concerned.

Such a staffing arrangement was typical of uni

ons in the craft tradition, preferred because it

tied such employees to the local anesthetic union, making them

“directly accountable to it, and more often than not,

driven by its political imperatives and electoral timetables. ”

Therefore, conflicting forces existed within

these locals : though sometimes led by individuals

committed to building a national organization, others

continued to nurture a desire for local anesthetic autonomy. besides contributing to a reluctance to create larger

structures was a lack of self-confidence. Pat

Lenihan, business agent of the Calgary municipal Local 37

and long-time socialist activist in the West, was

cardinal in pushing for a national organization within the

TLC, and felt that other workers’ reticence was the

product of their diffidence. He described one of the first base m

eetings to form a National Federation in this way:

We were all, in the independent, strangers to each other.

We had a lot of discussion about forming some kind of

arrangement. It was pro and memorize for awhile [ sic ]. Some

thought that we couldn’t handle it, that we were better

off the way we were with the Congress. All kinds

of backward thinking. Nobody was satisfied with the

172 85

Lenihan, 170.

Ibid., 170-1.

NUPE Educational Services, “The Origin

and Growth of the National Union of P

ublic Employees”, October 1958: 1. CUPE

Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 10 ] service or assistant they were getting from the C

ongress, but yet they didn’t have enough confidence in

themselves and their capabilities.

The approach of the TLC to the question of a national

union in the public sector was also a factor in

delaying its emergence. They seemed in no finical hur

ry to form such an organization, and in this their

position diverged from that of the CCL and hence

removed an external source of pressure for

consolidation. In fact, the TLC leadership had to

be convinced over a number of years that a national

public sector coupling was viable in the 1950s.

far reinforcing local attachment and concenter was the nature of the legal

regime that governed

municipal work in particular, and certificate in general. municipal workers fell under the legal power of provincial tug relations acts, which varied subst

antially. The law was therefore simultaneously unifying

and break up of municipal workers ’ organizations. Wh

ile provincial labour laws meant that “cooperation

on a provincial … basis was debauched becoming a necessity for public employees ”,

variations in these laws

fostered fragmentation along regional lines. Insofar as

broader forms of solidarity were in the offing, they

were foremost at the provincial level. While an impor

tant step in creating the basis for even wider forms of

designation, the construction of

provincial-level organizations set up centres of power and alternative

bases of identity and common interests which woul

d compete with any national union for members’

commitment. Another potential stumble block to one was thyroxine

he wide variety of leadership styles and ideological

positions present within the municipal unions. Some

, like Lenihan, were committed to the dream of a “One

Big Union ” for Canadian public employees due to their socialistic ideological commitment to working class
173 88

Lenihan had been involved in a number of socialist and radical

organizations located in the West, including the Communist

Party of Canada and organizations of the

unemployed during the Great

Depression, and had been interned for this activity.

Lenihan, 164, 173-4; Gilbert Levine, Interview by author, 16 December 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON.

Lenihan, 175.

Babcock, 13.

one.

Others’ motivations were less lofty: Bob Rintoul,

for instance, was seen to be attracted to the status

and career possibilities that a position in a national

union would offer. President of his Calgary transit

workers ’ local, the Calgary Federation of Ci

vic employees and the local Labour Council, Rintoul’s

commitment to the labor motion was par

t of his search for a “better job.”

Still others, like Garnet

Shier, drawing card of the Toronto City Hall workers ’ uni

on, Bill Buss, an employee of East York Township, and

Bill Black, business agent and organizer for the british

Columbia Hospital Workers’ Union, sought unity

amongst populace employees out of a combination of

principled commitment to solidarity and a pragmatic

desire to form an constitution that could help t

hem be more effective in collective bargaining.

Given these

divers orientations, one might expect more overt

conflict between these leaders. However, they were

unified in their desire for consolidation, whatever t

he reason, and as such set the tone for dealing with this

process : defer the working out of substantial diffe

rences until after the formal organization was created.

This approach besides made feel in the context of thymine

he TLC’s tradition of apoliticism, a Gomperist policy

which aimed precisely at avoiding partisan

divisions within workers’ organizations.

What besides united this diverse group of people

and local unions was a common understanding of the

basic function they wanted carried out by a national

organization, namely servicing and coordination. While

some had a more expansive view of unionism, it was the desire to do something about the “ minimal measure of serve and aid ” from the TLC around which people coalesced. The motivation for a home structure which could provide this service brought the drawing card

s of municipal and hospital workers together in 1948.

A small informal meet between Shier, Black and Al

Brunton of Calgary City Hall Local 8 at the TLC

convention in Calgary that class explored the possi

bility of some kind of structure amongst the civic

174 92

Lenihan, 170.

NUPE Educational Services, “The Origin

and Growth of the National Union of Public Employees”, October 1958: 1. The BC

Joint Council of Public Employees, belated to

become CUPE BC, was formed in 1943 (Lenihan, 175).

Lenihan, 170. The Alberta Joint Council of

Public Employees, later to become CUPE

Alberta, was formed in 1949-50; its first

meet was held in the Calgary Labour Temple with del

egates sitting around a tub full

of beer (Lenihan, 1998: 166).

Ibid., 175.

employees unions.

These three agreed that while a national union within the TLC was the ultimate goal,

at this consequence focus should remain on building the provin

cial level structures already in existence, like the

british Columbia and Ontario Federations of Public Employees.

Since these bodies were already up and

running, they could begin the provide the serv

icing and coordination functions immediately.

obviously, the decision to work at the peasant lupus erythematosus

vel was effective: by the time these locals met

again in Montreal in 1949, Saskatchewan and Alberta

had also established Federations of Public

Employees.

These bodies had taken on responsibility for servicing, organizing and educational work in

their respective provinces, and were supported by

grants from the TLC. The early development of a

provincial structure and identity amongst public sector

workers was to form the basis for the NUPE (and

later CUPE ) structure. Lenihan saw these provinci

al organizations as central in developing support

amongst autonomous locals for a national arrangement :

their work “indicated to our members the great

value of cardinal bodies and the military service that could be given to local unions. They paved the room for the setting up of the national consistency. ”

however, provincial federations besides

had a contradictory effect: by taking

on these functions, the need for – or at least the function

of – a national-level organization was diminished.

They besides established the basis for identities and intere

sts attached to sub-national structures that could

finally contest the home marriage ’ s clai

m to decision-making control and legitimacy.

In any character, a home union was still a few y

ears away, primarily due to the TLC leadership’s

assessment of the express of populace employee unionism.

The coalition of public employee groups moved to

the following phase by appointing a probationary Organizing

Committee at the 1951 TLC Convention in Halifax.

175 96

In addition to Shier, the Provisional Or

ganizing Committee consisted of Bill Black of

Local 180, Al Brunton of Local 8, and Pe

Lake and Jack Leam of Local 38. local 37 was not represent

ed at the 1951 TLC Convention, but was being spoken for by

Brunton ( Lenihan, 170 ). 97

NUPE Educational Services, “The Origin

and Growth of the National Union of Public Employees”, October 1958: 1; Lenihan

1999 : 170. 98

Lenihan, 168-69.

Ibid., 170-171;

The Public Employee

9 (3), Fall 1988: 3; NUPE Educational Serv

ices, “The Origin and Growth of the National

Union of Public Employees ”, October 1958 : 2. The Committee was led by Shier and charged to approach the TLC for a National Union charter.

They

were turned down, with the TLC ’ s judgment that

the time was not yet ripe for a national union.

No explicit

reason for this defense is to be found ; however, Lenihan ’

s allusions to the prevalent perception amongst the

dominant secret sector unions that civic employee organizations were not “ substantial ” unions, and therefore treated as “ second-class citizens ” or “ step-children ”, offer a possible explanation.

not to be deterred, the locals called a confer

ence of all TLC public employee unions at the 1952

convention in Winnipeg to see whether the proletarian

s and leaders thought the time was ripe for a national

union. With over 50 local representatives now calling for a federation of public employees, the TLC was less able to deny some form of national administration.

Lenihan’s connections with TLC Secretary-Treasurer

Gordon Cushing, with whom he had worked closely in

Calgary and helped to elect as city alderman, also

greased the wheels. The TLC ’ s former decisiveness was thus reversed and a charter for the canadian federation of Civic Employees ( CFCE ) was granted. Th

is charter bestowed the right to charge per capita,

which was set at 5 cents, and to hold conventions, but

not to issue charters to locals: this power, and the

responsibility for servicing, remained with the TLC.

The TLC officers agreed to a national organization of

public employees, but only if 17,000 members could be s

hown to support the initiative. In the meantime,

the CFCE was a idle federation which left the autonomy of

the locals almost entirely intact. There would

be a bunch of work to do to gather the want back for a actual national union, peculiarly amongst those like the BC Hospital Workers, who already possessed

a provincial structure and who, at this point, were

“ not prepared to go along. ”

176 100

Lenihan, 172.

For two years the CFCE functioned under these terms, with Shier as President, Lenihan as First Vice-President and Aubrey Dixon of the City of Regina

inside workers Local 7 as Secretary-Treasurer. The

fact that each of the executives was working in comprehensive examination

letely different parts of the country may have seemed

an hindrance, but the national coverage afforded by

the CFCE’s diffuse nature was an asset given the

undertaking of reaching as many TLC locals as possible ,. The Federation ’ s chief drive was “ to try and coordinate and to get in touch with as many civic locals as possible throughout Canada, and encourage them. ” This they did themselves on a next-to-volunteer basis, “ working about day and night at it ”, and through the TLC ’ s field representatives. For the first clock

, locals exchanged collective agreements and were able to

compare wages and working conditions in the sector. Visiting those locals who had been absent from the TLC conventions and convincing them to affiliate to

the CFCE was a particular priority. Evidently, the

CFCE activists were successful : by the end of

1953 the Federation had affiliates representing 12,000

members.

100

continue progress, however, relied upon the CFCE bei

ng able to perform functions useful to local

unions. Without the ability to organize and charter modern locals, to service members and support them in negotiations, to compile, analyze and make meaningful

the information now being shared amongst locals, a

national structure ’ second entreaty would remain limited.

The CFCE’s September 1954 Convention thus decided to

push ahead and form a National Union, presenting the TLC administrator with a plan for finance and operation based on a 20-cent per caput. A refe

rendum amongst the TLC locals in November 1954

indicated that 70 % of civil unions

representing about 17,000 members were in favour. Seven years after

the idea of a national organization was initially rais

ed at the 1948 Convention, the CFCE was thus awarded

its National Charter by the TLC in May of 1955,

changing its name to the National Union of Public

Employees ( NUPE ) at its founding convention in Winds

or, Ontario. The 1954 vote amongst TLC-chartered

177 101

Ibid., 172-3, 175.

102

Kealey Cummings, interview by author,

17 December, 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON.

103

Lenihan, 183.

locals to form NUPE brought closely 60 locals into the fresh union, with a membership triple that of NUPSE ’ second at the time. Its numerous and more regionally r

epresentative membership made NUPE a more genuinely

“ national ” union in some respects : locals spanned the

country from British Columbia to the Maritimes, and

typify workers in many more sectors. In thyroxine

he seven months that followed, the membership expanded

to 23,000 in 110 locals, as more directly chartered TLC unions began to join. Garnet Shier from Toronto local 79 was elected as president of the united states and Robert Rintoul

from Calgary Local 37 was appointed as the full-time

National Director to run the newly

set-up National Office in Ottawa.

101

Reaction amongst the NUPSE adherents to the form

ation of NUPE was less than keen. Some

charged that NUPE was “ hurriedly slapped t

ogether” by the TLC at this time.

102

No doubt a significant shift

amongst the TLC leadership had taken place, as they

were now anticipating the creation of a merged

canadian Labour Congress in a mere two years and watt

anted to create a national public employee union in

the TLC custom to compete with NUPSE. Giv

en this and NUPE’s recent appearance on the scene, one

could see why Little and other NUPSE activists were

sceptical of the neophyte organization, having

preceded it by over ten-spot years. however, not alone was NUPE many years in the maki

ng, the product of much activity not visible to

NUPSE leaders, it was besides relatively successful

in NUPSE’s own terms. NUPE continued to grow by

leaps and bounds in a way that NUPSE just had no

t. By the end of 1956, the union had over 30,000

members to NUPSE ’ s 15,000, despite NUPSE ’ randomness holocene skill of the OHEU.

103

One wonders if there

was not a bite of dark grapes here amongst NU

PSE leaders, especially since NUPE’s organizational

structure and leadership dash flew in the front of metric ton

he emerging conventional wisdom about the requisites for

successful unionism. little clearly believed that a c

entralized, professional leadership was necessary for

178 104

MacMillan, 141.

marriage expansion and collective bargain effectiveness,

and NUPE’s successful use of activist-organizers,

working on an about tennessean footing, challenged this

belief. NUPE’s relative popularity and its incredible

growth rate demonstrated that it was possible for

a union to do much with very limited and decentralized

resources, tied in the era of a

professionalizing labour movement.

There are respective significant reasons why NUPE was

relatively successful in this period, and all of

them related to the leadership ’ s prioritization of courtly ( if not substantial ) consolidation ahead of any desires for centralization, conformity or profe

ssionalization of leadership. NUPE left locals’ autonomy

virtually intact, and focussed on voluntary cooperation preferably than the imposition of criterion approaches. affiliation to intermediate bodies like provincial divi

sions and district councils remained purely voluntary,

although many organizers vigorously encouraged the locals they organized to join.

104

Similarly, per capita

was left very low, making NUPE relatively easy to join,

permitting locals to retain control over their financial

resources, and ensuring that the national leadership had

little material power over locals to enforce a

central line on bargaining or political questions. As

a result, NUPE’s membership expanded significantly

without an overarching set of goals, besides

the desire for mutual self-protection.

NUPE ’ s approach to staffing and its function in relation

to the membership also revealed different ideas

about the national union ’ second appropriate serve. Fo

r quite some time, the number of full-time and

professional leaders was kept to a minimum, and the

union relied heavily on part-time officials and activist-

organizers. This was of course related to the lim

its on national revenues, but also to the philosophy of

some of NUPE ’ s leaders, namely Lenihan, who replac

ed an ailing Shier as National President in early

1956. In Lenihan ’ mho position, the locals and members shoul

d be taught to use the strength which came from

their immediately larger numbers. In his first conventi

on speech as National President, Lenihan acknowledged the

increasingly complicated nature of unions ’ functions, but

insisted that the goal was to “find the means of

179 105

Lenihan, 181-3.

106

Ibid., 178, 181-184; R. Rintoul, letter to Secretaries of all

Chartered Locals, “Was It A G

ood Union Meeting” questionnaire,

November 17, 1955. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 2 ]. 107

NUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 22-23, 1958: 5.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 6]

raising the department of education level ” of NUPE members rather

than substituting experts on their behalf. While many

locals themselves clamoured for aid from the Nati

onal Office in the form of national representatives,

the leadership prioritized the technical side of

Research Director over servicing, which Lenihan

envisioned as a support for local bargain efforts.

105

Even when three national representatives – Jim

murray in BC, Bill Acton in Ontario, and John ‘ Lofty ’ MacMillan in the Maritimes – were hired in early 1957, the vehemence remained on supplementing quite than r

eplacing local leaders’ knowledge. Where it was

apparent that members did not have the cognition

and experience to be effective bargainers and local

leaders, home representatives were to provide bot

h technical and political education, particularly on how

to run a “ good ” meeting and absorb in effect

ive and democratic collective leadership.

106

The national

representative ’ s conduct function in local affairs was thus

envisioned as temporary. The supplementary status of

staff was far reflected in the union ’ s prohibiti

on against staff’s participation as voting delegates in

convention and the political process more broadly.

107

ultimately, locals and individuals were afforded a signifi

cant amount of political space in the tradition of

pragmatic sanction non-partisanship associated bot

h with the TLC and with the civil service, and as such allowed for

the concerted coexistence of everyone from So

cial Credit adherents like Bob Rintoul to Communist

organizers interned during the second World War like Pat Lenihan. As a TLC coupling, NUPE fell formally within the eye socket of american english trade unionism. The implicat

ions of this affiliation are rather more complex than

one would expect through a superficial glance at Gomperism and commercial enterprise unionism, however. NUPE did mirror the TLC ’ s commitment to pragmatic non-par

tisanship; indeed, the 1956 NUPE Convention adopted

resolution 15, submitted by the Alberta Federation of Public Employees ( Alberta Division ), which committed NUPE to “ a not enthusiast attitude on Polic

ies regarding politics” and to have “no future

180 108

NUPE, 1956 Convention Proceedings:

19. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 2, File 7]

109

R. Rintoul, letter to NUPE Executive Board members, Secret

aries of Local Unions and Prov

incial Organizations, November

26, 1956 : 1, 2. 110

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings:

112. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 2, File 11]

111

The Public Employee

9 (3), Fall 1988: 3,5; Crean, 53.

relationship with any Political party. ”

108

Moreover, there was no shortage of

anti-communist sentiment in the

union, as the discussion of Local 28, Vancouver ( later to become CUPE Local 1004 ) reveals. As Rintoul explained in a circular to provincial and local drawing card

s, in 1950, before the form

ation of NUPE, the 66th

annual convention of the TLC expelled local 28, the V

ancouver Civic Employees Federal Union, due to its

having come under “ communist determine ” of penis

s of the Labour Progressive Party, like Jack Phillips,

the local ’ s business agent. The TLC subsequently set

up Local 407 as an anti-communist alternative for

Vancouver municipal workers – which became an affilia

te of NUPE – “for the purpose of giving a haven to

those who desired to protect their penis

ship with the Trades and Labor Congress.”

109

Local 28 remained

a submit of business and discussion within NUPE, and as the debate at the 1961 convention shows, NUPE members wanted local 28 to return to the fold, but not

so long as they would continue to allow themselves

to be “ dominated by communists. ”

110

An examen of the people involved in NUPE at

the local and national levels, however, reveals

that there was some space for person socialists

and communists to gain leadership positions in NUPE

and to coexist with those who did not contribution their views. Pat Lenihan, the national president of NUPE from January 1956 to March 1957, and subsequently a field

representative in Alberta, and Western Regional

Director for CUPE until 1969, was a member of the Indus

trial Workers of the World, a supporter of the One

Big Union, and a Communist Party member in the 1930s.

111

Lenihan reports that there was a mutual

esteem amongst people of different ideological or

ientations. With a few notable anti-communist

exceptions, there was credence of Communists so

long as they were “good trade unionists.” Lenihan

said : “ I mean, they weren ’ thymine real progressive thinly

kers but they were broadminded liberals. Although they

181 112

Lenihan, 176.

113

Crean, 53.

114

Palmer, 169.

115

Lenihan, 177, 182.

had hunches, possibly, that I was a Communist, they di

dn’t let it bother them. If what I was saying made

sense, they supported me. ”

112

Gil Levine, Director of Resear

ch for both NUPE and CUPE until the mid-

1980s, was besides a member of the CPC / Labour Progressi

ve Party in his university days, which he admitted

to the NUPE hire committee when they interviewed him in 1956.

113

Bryan Palmer echoes this more

nuanced assessment of the possibilities in TLC craft

unions: “craft unionism was never some monolithic

structural process of captivity, in which work

ers were only stifled and moved in the directions that

business unionism allowed. Members of these skill

ed bodies of working men played a fundamental role in

socialist reform politics and battled at the workplace,

where they confronted a determined resistance to any

notion of unionism. ”

114

Therefore, while a strain of anti-communi

sm certainly existed in NUPE, the value of

effective and militant trade unionism was

often placed above questions of ideology.

NUPE ’ s particular way of managing differences in

order to create a national organization also had

its drawbacks, however. The diarrhea of its cent

ral direction made it appear less coherent than NUPSE,

and it was always a conflict to get locals to identif

y with NUPE. This reticence extended to the broader

parturiency movement : Lenihan noted that some, like Calgary Local 37, resisted all boost to send delegates to any events outside of NUPE. Limited nati

onal revenue, due to the low level of per capita, was

particularly burdensome, peculiarly since many of triiodothyronine

he TLC locals were unions in name only, and had to be

rebuild from the prime up.

115

With only four national representatives by mid-1957 to service locals across

the entire area, the union faced serious difficultie

s, especially where Lenihan’s approach to training the

locals was concerned. While such a strategy would

diminish the burdens on the National Office in the long

term, in the short term it was easier for the reps to

substitute themselves for local leaders, who were often

profoundly grateful .
182 In other words, creating a newly union out of a series

of locals with little experience with effective

corporate bargaining, internal democratic functioning, c

oordination with other locals or membership in a

central administration, and with vehement commitment

s to their own autonomy developed during their TLC

years, was no easy undertaking. The terms of these gr

oups’ unity resulted in serious constraints on the

development of the cardinal function and on ability of it

s representatives to do more than provide the most

basic union education. Bob Rintoul ’ sulfur position as National

Director, while ostensibly similar to Little’s, was

frankincense well less potent in practice. conventional

unification of TLC municipal workers did not lead

automatically to actual substantive one or to

centralization and professionalization: this had to be

constructed with great campaign and was the chief one

ssue to confront NUPE through the late 1950s and early

1960s. V.

Conclusion: NUPSE and NUPE on the Eve of Merger

While facing a common context of post-war stat

e transformation, the legalization of labour

relations, and the professionalization of the tug moment

vement, various groups of public sector workers

produced a kind of organizational forms, institut

ionalized different identities, and emphasized distinct

notions of union serve and majority rule. A consens

us did exist amongst the leadership in NUPE and

NUPSE that a authentically national union in their jurisdic

tion was needed; however, the specificities of each

group ’ s development meant that serious disagreements over what that

union should do and how it should be

structured were inevitable. At the open of the first fusion talks in

1956, NUPSE was a relatively small, geographically

concentrated and centralized union with its kernel of

gravity in the municipal hydro and public utilities

sector. NUPSE leaders had been able to convince most of its locals of the beneficial outcomes of a higher per capita tax. These early locals generally a

ccepted such arrangements on the basis of ideological

183 116

Crean, 95.

commitments to a broad industrial unionism, and their master of arts

terial ties to the National Union through high

levels of servicing. In general, then, NU

PSE encouraged greater dependence of locals on the central

office, and members came to expect a high charge of

service from the national level of the union.

116

The combination of industrial unionism and the

desire for membership expansion explains the

transition, through CETU to NOCUEW to NUPSE, from a

relatively narrow to a broader self-definition.

These concerns with expansion besides combined wisconsin

th a consensus around the importance of a strong

national office to create pressures for the profe

ssionalization of NUPSE’s leadership, which began with the

institution of a full-time, appointed Di

rector of Organization. Although important internal struggles had to be

fight over what kind of leadership was most appropr

iate for the union in this period, the balance was

clearly in favor of experts who would take speed of light

harge over local negotiations and the organization of new

members. fiddling venture upon this with z

eal, and he subsequently became the union’s strongest

advocate for centralization and professionalization.

However, the particular strategy Little adopted to

achieve the sought expansion introduced into NU

PSE important centrifugal forces and tensions,

primarily in the phase of the OHEU. Pragmatic c

onsiderations gave OHEU vastly more autonomy than was

normally afforded most locals, therefore eating away

at NUPSE’s unifying identity and consensus over union

function and opening the gates to NUPSE coming to embrace NUPE ’ s more decentralize structure – although not inevitably its relatively more democratic ethos. In direct contrast to its counterpart, NUPE was

a larger, more geographically dispersed federation

of historically autonomous municipal locals in whic

h autonomy was the dominant feature. In the midst of

divers approaches to politics and union function, metric ton

hese locals were united by a common desire for

servicing and aid from a National Office. More

substantive differences were put aside so that

courtly one could be achieved. however, given thei

r commitments to local control over resources, the

184 extent of servicing which could be provided on a very lo

w per capita remained limited. As a result, multiple

forms of service, at the local, provincial and nat

ional levels emerged and provided the basis for competing

identities and power relations, and it was not one hundred fifty

ear in 1956 which level would become dominant.

furthermore, the combination of constrained national

resources, the ideological

orientation of authoritative leaders, and the attachment to autonomy

meant that professionalization

of the union remained limited well

into the 1960s. As a consequence, for both ideological and virtual reasons, NUPE emphasized greater membership control over and engagement in the daily run of their locals, even if this was unevenly achieved. thus, when NUPSE and NUPE met over the fusion

negotiating table in 1956, they were both

organizations whose geological formation in terms of identity and

function was ‘incomplete.’ While particular notions

were ‘ hegemonic ’ in each union, they were hush the subjec

t of internal struggles. The processes of resolving

the issues of identity, serve and structure were megabyte

ade infinitely more complex once the merger of these

two identical different organizations was in the works.

While the next phase of public employee unionism was

to centre on questions of structure, both identity

and function continued to reappear, particularly as these

cover assumptions about what constitu

ted democratic and effective trade unionism.

185 1

Power Workers’ Union, 16. After serving in the Navy during

the Second World War, Cummings went to work in the mines of

Northern Ontario and then was hired as a cons

truction worker for Ontario Hydro in Timmins in 1947. He was active in the

OHEA/U from 1952 onwards, first as a stewar

d, then Chief Steward, and later Second Vice-President. He was elected as the

first

full-time

OHEU President at the age of 30.

OHEU, Executive Board minutes, August 21,

1957: 10; December 16, 1957: 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7,

Files 8 and 9 ] chapter 5 : The Merger Process and Union Democracy I : The Initial Blockages, 1956-1959 By the 1950s, there was momentum for a amalgamation

amongst public sector unions. The two national

unions in the field, pressed by unifying trends in

the broader North American labour movement, soon had to

confront the necessity of combining what were tw

o very different organizations. Not only did NUPE and

NUPSE own divergent ideas about effective unionism

, the definition of good leadership, the appropriate

character of the membership, and the nature of the obligat

ions tying workers together, the unification process

brought into clear respite competing visions of union democracy. Some conceived union majority rule as based on a broad understand of the democratic constituency and workers ’ interests being served. This vision tended to be shared by the National tied leadership of both the unions, but was most clearly

expressed by OHEU’s president since 1956, Kealey

Cummings. As the son of a Northern Ontario miner

active in the Industrial Workers of the World,

it made

common sense that, for Cummings, workers were best served by

unity in the labour movement. Fragmentation and

sectionalism constituted a barrier to the effective

realization of workers’ democratic will and interests,

understand as socio-economic advancement and democrati

c participation in workplace decisions via

corporate bargaining. The one required for this intend that already-organized workers had obligations to the general interest, even when that conflicted with

particularist concerns; OHEU, for instance, thus

possessed “ a duty to sacrifice vitamin a far as possi

ble and at the same time provide leadership with the

object of realizing a hard national

union for all public utility workers.”

Those who remained outside of

these obligations, so far sought to benefit from labor moment

vement action, were “freeloaders”. In other words,

union democracy was tightly connected to outcomes, to

notions of redistributive justice in which more

186 3

Cummings’ role as representative of OHEU to the broader st

ructures of the union and his accountability to the Local 1000

membership frequently forced him to represent a more

sectionalist politics than this position would imply.

K. Munnings, “The Responsibility is Yours!” (circular), n.d. (1959)

: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 4]

herculean groups assisted weaker ones, and to the inte

rests of those beyond the immediately visible and

vote constituency.

Others, typically the leaders of boastfully and long-st

anding sub-units within the two national unions,

had a more proceduralist notion of democracy rooted in

protecting a pre-existi

nanogram mood of representing a given community of workers. Ken Munnings, OHEU ’ s

First Vice-President in 1957 and 1959, expressed this

notion of majority rule inherently connected to autonomy as

“the right to conduct our business in a way which

… the penis decides we should. ”

Already constituted membership groups thus possessed an absolute

and implicit in right to self-govern, to determine what

broader obligations they would and would not submit

to, and to place their finical needs ahead of those of an as-yet-unrealized wide community. however, union would require more than a

simple choice between one or other of these

visions. For both personal and political reasons, neither leadership group was will to adopt the others ’ model of unionism, and NUPSE in particular, as the

smaller of the two unions, placed major roadblocks in

the way of fusion until they could establish a

stronger bargaining position for themselves. Further

complicating the situation was the

fact that these conceptions of democracy were not neatly distributed

between the two national unions. rather, each marriage wa

s also possessed of important sub-units who held

flying to views at variance with those of their national leaders. As we saw in Chapter 3, the accommodation of these different claims produced particular balanc

es between centralism and autonomy, each with their

own contradictory implications. Any process which brought these two unions together would have to deal with and find new resolutions to these dilemmas. Spec

ifically, the nature and ext

ent of reciprocal obligations would have to be redefined, and structures which w

ould operationalize these obligations in a way that

187 5

Crean, 95.

balanced the needs of existing and future members would have to be constructed. As we shall see, given the competing democratic ( and other ) logics at work, this was to be no easily task. I.

First Steps and Opening Positions: The First Year of Merger Talks, 1956-57

NUPE and NUPSE had to have something in coarse beyond similar jurisdictions for the amalgamation summons to be contemplated at all. Some compelli

ng shared goals fostered in each a desire for merger, not

least of which was the resulting union ’ s potential prisoner of war

er and prestige within the Canadian labour movement.

Both NUPSE and NUPE wanted to create a union with national coverage and a hearty base in Quebec which had eluded both until now. Both unions had endured the dis

dain of fellow unionists for whom public sector

workers were not “ real number unionists ”, and the arroganc

e of employers who often possessed the upper hand

legally and strategically. Given the persistent grow

th in public sector employment and potential for

unionization, “ [ i ] t was plain to both executives that,

combined, they would add up to something substantially

greater than the sum of their two organizations, forg

ing a credible national force and acquiring unassailable

condition as the new exponent forget in canadian labor. ”

A growing sense of the irrationality of the francium

agmented structure of Canadian public sector unionism

besides drove the fusion. The being of paralle

l unions organizing in the same jurisdiction had become

distinctly inefficient : there was duplicate of work

, resources wasted fighting each other rather than

spreading organization even further, and a growing fear that disunity would give employers a strategic advantage. As Grace Hartman, CUPE ’ s National Pr

esident between 1975 and 1983, later recalled, it was

“ a farcical way to operate. The staff representativ

es from the two unions were like ships passing in the

nox. One would be going into Hamilton to look a

fter a civic group there and the other might be coming

aside from Hamilton after meeting with a hospital. We began to feel it was nonsense … it was expensive …
188 6

Grace Hartman, “Organizing Public Se

rvice Workers in the Sixties,” in

We Stood Together: First Hand Accounts of Dramatic

Events in Canada ’ s Labour Past

, ed. G. Montero (Toronto: James Lorimer and Co., 1979), 185.

Crean, 94.

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure Submitted by the National Director at the Request of the National

Executive Board ”, National Union of Public

Employees, April 1960: 4-5. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 9]; R.

Rintoul, National Director ’ s General R

eport, NUPE, 1961 Convention Pr

oceedings: 20-1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234,

Vol. 2, File 14 ] and neither union was actually able to pr

ovide properly for the membership.”

“It was no secret” that NUPSE

and NUPE were organizing the like workers,

but this picture of amicable and mutually indifferent

coexistence did not always reflect conditions in thyroxine

he field. Competition between NUPE and NUPSE could be

ferocious, specially in the hospital sector. many felt

it unreasonable for unions who were now affiliates of the

same labor central to fight over the lapp work

ers, with the resulting waste of financial and human

resources, not to mention the employment

ers who could have been organized instead.

Both NUPSE and NUPE besides faced common external pressures as well. First, employers were continually transforming themselves to deal with

their growing and unionizing workforces. Gone were the

days when a municipal local had only the City Council to worry about, as public sector employers were becoming more effective at coordinating dicker and legi

slative efforts. Municipal employers were using

“ experts who formulate a uniform policy and tactical

plans for negotiations” with locals, with the goal of

establishing a inadequate design for settlements by bargaining wisconsin

th weaker locals first. Employer associations,

like the canadian Federation of Mayors and Municipalit

ies established in 1937, were also increasingly

effective at providing collective bargaining resear

ch for its members, planning a coordinated negotiating

strategy, and obtaining anti-labour legi

slation at the provincial level.

In this context, a fragmented public

sector union drift was a good liability. A second informant of atmospheric pressure came from

the newly-minted Canadian Labour Congress. From

today ’ second advantage point, it is difficult to see

how the merger between NUPE and NUPSE could have been

avoided once the TLC and CCL merged to create the CLC in 1956. The CLC ’ second policy was to rationalize the
189 9

Williams, 198.

Crean, 94.

Rogers, or “F.O.”, as he liked to be called, was Recording Secr

etary of Local 5 from 1949 to 1978. He also served as a NUPSE

vice-president and a penis of NU

PSE’s merger committee (Thomas, 38).

labor movement through the promot

ion of mergers where possible.

In a context where the historic differences between the TLC and CCL had been put aside,

affiliates were similarly expected to build

bridges with their former competit

ors. Crean argues that the pressure

from the CLC to form one national

public employees ’ union was capital,

and the particular pressure on public sector unions to merge may

have been because the CLC had little oscilloscope to implement its rationalization policy in jurisdictions dominated by U.S.-based unions. As NUPE and NUPSE

did not have to answer to international head

offices, a amalgamation between them would be significant

ly less complicated. Bringing together the purely

national public sector unions was thus seen as an easy way to achieve systematization and one in a labor apparent motion distillery characterized by structural and political

fragmentation. Given this external pressure from

the CLC, both unions had to ensure a amalgamation would ta

ke place on terms they could each live with, and thus

had to be actively involved in their own negociate summons. therefore, the mind of a NU

PE-NUPSE merger was a convergence of shared general aims and

common external pressures for union. In the context of the “ spirit of oneness ” generated by the TLC-CCL amalgamation, a “ get-acquainted meeti

ng” between representatives of

NUPE and NUPSE was held during the

CLC ’ s founding convention in April 1956. By common

agreement of the two unions and the CLC executive, a

joint fusion committee was created. The central fifty

eadership figures in both organizations were charged

with the responsibility for negotiating fusion : NUPE s

ent President Pat Lenihan, Vice-President Bill Buss

and National Director Bob Rintoul, while NUPSE wa

s represented by President James Clark, Frank

Rogers, Recording Secretary of

Hamilton Civic Workers Local 5,

Director of Organization Stan Little, and

an changing example from local 1000 ( at this

meeting, then-OHEU president A.W. Snell).

190 12

Lenihan, 179.

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal: a proposed basis of merger of the

National Union of Public Employees and

the National Union of Public Service

Employees”, submitted by

the Canadian Labour Congress, August 1, 1957. CUPE Fonds

[ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 23 ]. Gordon Cushing

was a CLC Executive Vice-President and long-time friend of Pat

Lenihan, while Joe MacKenzie was the CLC ’ s Director of Organization. Two initial meetings in July and December

of 1956 showed that any “merger momentum” had

already dissipated, and the ‘ good will ’ which

may have existed between NUPE and NUPSE had been

superficial at best. While these beginning two conventional meet

ings were intended for the leaders to “get to know each

other ”,

they in fact revealed deep divisions over bot

h the kind of union that was wanted or needed, and

the method acting of creating a newly struct

ure and identity. The process of combining these two organizations

would be anything but quick or easy. Although Me

moranda of Understanding were drawn up after both

meetings, and the CLC issued a fusion marriage proposal for NUPE and NUPSE in August 1957,

the ‘agreement’

reached on respective issues was ephemeral. Differences

on a legion of structural and political issues were

fundamental and with few promptly available solutions.

Moreover, each of the unions had significant and

knock-down factions protective of their own interest

s in the context of a merger, and who injected their

particularist concerns into the discussions. ultimately, the CLC was concerned with the accurate form of the newfangled union, and sought to balance the desires of the tw

o unions with those of international affiliates

organizing in the same jurisdictions. The documents produced by the Unity Committee and the CLC in the first year of amalgamation discussions both provide a outline

of the substantive issues which separated the two

unions, and allow us to understand why so much fourth dimension

passed before real progress on merger was made.

To begin with, the two unions and their representativ

es did not hold each other in high esteem. For

NUPSE, NUPE was not a ‘ real union ’ – it was nothing molybdenum

re than a weak federation of locals, with little

capacity for central leadership, whether in corporate dicker or in politics. Recall that some were convinced that NUPE was a hasty and insubstantial

creation of the TLC designed to thwart NUPSE in the

modern merged CLC. Others argued that

NUPE’s greater numbers were deceiving: the majority of their locals

191 14

W.A. Whitehead, “Analysis of the Proposed Merger between

NUPSE and NUPE”, submitted to the NUPSE Unity Committee,

September 26, 1957 : 1, 2. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] 15

Lenihan, 194.

W. Black, letter to P. Lenihan, August 9, 1956: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

were accused of not functioning effectively, and were newspaper tigers at best.

For NUPSE leaders,

peculiarly little, a ‘ real number union ’ had to entail cardinal c

ontrol and direction. The National Office should be the

elementary actor, dispensing cognition and resources to the locals. a army for the liberation of rwanda as Little and early NUPSE adherents were concerned, only a strong national union could foster membership identification and commitment, and attract and keep members. While surely desirous

of a larger membership, and while buying into the

equation of union size and office, in the context of

merger negotiations NUPSE r

epresentatives repeatedly emphasized the importance of timbre over size. These arguments were opportunist ampere well, for NUPSE, as the smaller coupling, was ever cowardly of submersion

into their larger and, in their eyes, less effective

counterpart. NUPE, on the other hired hand, saw NUPSE as an autoc

ratic, top-heavy and ineffective union unable to

organize its jurisdiction. Some had unplayful concerns about the quality of democracy in NUPSE, and the extent of world power held by appoint staff like Little.

Lenihan in particular was known to favour a member-run

union in which the staff was subordinate to the elected leadership.

Moreover, if their record was anything

to go by, a NUPSE-led union would not be astir to the

task of organizing the growing numbers of Canadian

public sector workers. Bill Black of Local 180 – the

provincial BC Hospital Employees’ Union – argued that

“ our National Union is the strongest numerically and i

deologically and we are truly national in character …

the NUPSE, to my cognition, has no persuasiveness to speak

of in Western Canada, and very little in the East.”

According to Black, NUPE should not think of the me

rger as one between equals similar to that of the TLC

and CCL.

In other words, union size reflected somethi

ng more than mere numbers – it indicated an ability

to appeal to public sector workers in a way that spoke

to their interests and motivated them to join. Some

of this appeal was said to be located in NUPE ’ s stru

cture. Many did not agree that the relationship

192 17

Crean, 97.

between structure, identity and growth in NUPE was as

simple as “weak National, weak identity”. Indeed,

as Grace Hartman by and by argued, NUPE ’ s decentralized

structure may have done more for the construction

of recognition with NUPE, given the function that lo

cals and members were expected to play in the union.

Hartman admitted that while “ loos

e structure and local autonomy can weaken a union as a national force,

… it besides strengthens the members ’ committedness to

the organization if they can belong and have a say.”

For some, the greater telescope for local inaugural and

heavier reliance on activist-organizers explained NUPE’s

successful growth, while NUPSE ’ s ongoing difficulties wi

th expansion were read as a condemnation of their

centralize model of unionism. These common evaluations and prejudices form

ed the implicit substratum of the negotiations

through which all proposals would be filtered and measure

ed. Each side therefore had powerful motivations

to avoid adoption of the other ’ mho structure and rehearse

s. This consideration was particularly acute for

NUPSE, which, as the smaller union, was facing assi

milation rather than merger. This was an imminent

possibility, for the structure

and amount of representation on gov

erning bodies proposed in the 1956-57

fusion documents distinctly gave the advantage to NUPE.

NUPE adherents saw no real problem with using

assimilation as the method for creating a new ident

ity and organization, for their decentralized practices

afforded significant space for differences between the lo

cals. Besides, as the larger union they felt they

should by rights be able to retain their structures.

However, NUPSE, and Little in particular, could not

accept such a method acting of union : while NUPSE

locals might be granted autonomy in the new structure,

they would be fragmented, ineffective to exercise the

kind of centralized and professionalized unionism to

which they had become accustomed, and, as a minorit

y, incapable of changing the union’s structure once it

had been settled upon .
193 18

NUPE and NUPSE, “Memorandum of U

nderstanding”, December 1956: 1, CUPE Fonds [N

AC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol 3, File 22]

NUPSE National Executive Board, “Direc

tive adopted by NUPSE National Executive

Board at their Meeting of April 27

, 1957

for the guidance of all concerned ; outlining this Organization ’ sulfur position towards Merger with early Unions ”. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 14 ]. 20

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 5.

Discussions of the proportional theatrical performance of

the two unions in the new organization epitomized

these differences over how to create a raw organi

zational identity. These representational issues

concerned the appoint of the new organization, the presidency, and the number and distribution of national executive dining table seats. The matter of the new

union’s name represented the competing approaches –

assimilation versus synthesis – at a emblematic degree. For the NUPE people, the question required short think. Since they were the larger union, the ‘ m

erger’ was really a matter of NUPSE joining their

social organization ; their relative importance and world power shoul

d be reflected in the adoption of NUPE as the name of

the new union. The July proposals reflected this

logic and would have the new organization adopt NUPE

as its name “ national to legal problems arising re personnel casualty

of certification” that NUPSE locals might face with

such a name change.

NUPSE representatives gave their assent

initially, but soon reversed their position.

In an April 1957 directing concerning “ this Organization ’

s attitude towards Merger with other Unions”, the

NUPSE NEB agreed that, in any fusion, they would in

sist upon a new name for the organization to avoid

any sense that they were being submerged.

By August of 1957, the CLC itself had found the symbolic

middle ground in its Merger Proposal for NU

PE and NUPSE: the new union’s name would the

Canadian

Union of Public Employees.

The other issues of representation which flow

ed from these fundamentally opposed attitudes were

less promptly solvable. The presidency, a well as

the number and distribution of executive seats and their

method of election, was not to be resolved until early 1962,

six years into the merger process. Again, it

was assumed by NUPE that the first gear presidency watt

ould “appropriately” go to one of their delegates due to

their larger membership. Five Vice-Presidents woul

d, with the President, form the National Executive

194 21

NUPE and NUPSE, “Memorandum of U

nderstanding”, 1-2. What constituted “suffi

cient membership” was not defined in the

August 1957 marriage proposal, nor in any of

the subsequent merger discussions.

T. Lewis, letter to P. Lenihan, August 16, 1956: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]; Tom Lewis was a

plumber at Vancouver City Hall who Lenihan described as “ a leftist liberal

”, having been a member of the “old Socialist Party

”

( Lenihan, 176 ). 23

W. Young, letter to P. Lenihan, August 28, 1956: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

B. Black, letter to P. Lenihan, August 9, 1956: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

T. Lewis, letter to P. Lenihan, August 16, 1956: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

Board, with three of these positions going initially

to NUPE. The full National Executive Council would

consist of the NEB and at least one spokesperson from

each province with “sufficient membership”, to be

elected by the respective provincial caucuses.

The existing geographic structure of NUPE would thus be

retained, american samoa would its numeric advantage on the

Executive Board and Council, since it had organized

members in more provinces than had NUPSE. obviously for some, tied this rather meager allotment to NUPSE was a concession on NUPE ’ randomness separate. Tom Lewis, NUPE ’ randomness Second Vice-President from Local 15, Vancouver City Hall, argued that they appeared to be “ conceding excessively much recognition

and consideration to a minority group.”

Bill Young,

NUPE administrator member from Edmonton City Hall

Local 52, wanted both the president and the vice-

presidents elected from the

floor

, even at the founding convention. De

spite knowing that NUPE’s numerical

advantage would allow them to defeat whomever

NUPSE fielded, Young insisted that “[i]f we have no

courage in our force now, we never will. ”

For Bill Black’s part, the proposed executive council structure

was impossible, since it was a departure from NUPE ’

s practice of electing more than one representative

from provinces with larger memberships ; he warned

that a reduction in BC’s

representation on the NEC

“ would not be possible. ”

Similarly, Lewis insisted upon a distribut

ion of executive seats on a “pro-ratio

basis and specially so provincially ” and pit changes to the method acting of electing peasant administrator representation.

In other words, both Black and Lewis wished to

retain a provincial structure which, while

apparently motivated by a desire to protect detail puerto rico

ovincial interests, would also result in an even larger

representational advantage for NUPE at the home leve

l. These positions epitomized the most extreme

195 26

NUPE and NUPSE, “Memorandum

of Understanding”, 1, 2.

assimilationist attitudes on NUPE ’ second contribution, and demons

trated a remarkable lack of concern about whether

NUPSE would be adequately represented and what effect deoxythymidine monophosphate

heir marginalization might have on the unity of

the post-merger union.

NUPSE representatives initially conceded the puerto rico

esidency to NUPE. However, while general if

doubtful agreement was expressed, it

was obvious that NUPSE was loathe to

admit the implications of its

lesser numbers and bargained for a better remainder between the two unions. consultation with the NUPSE NEB revealed they wanted a quid pro quo pro quo for relinqui

shing the presidency. NUPSE delegates now seemed

to be hedging on the question of NUPE taking the presi

dency: they reported that

the recommendation “had

received a favorable retainer inasmuch as it was recognized that alone one President could be maintained and that NUPE was the larger of the

two Organizations.” In other words, NUPSE had

grudgingly recognized the logic of the proposal, but was

not yet willing to accede to its implications. All

they would say now is that the new marriage ’ s president

should

come from NUPE. While the respective NEBs

agreed on the number of Vice-Presidents, their di

vision between NUPE and NUPSE was still unresolved.

For the NUPSE Executive Board, “ 3 of the 5 Vice

-Presidents was a requisite” in exchange for their

concessions on the name and presidency of the new union.

In this they were tentatively supported by the

CLC ’ s representative, Joe MacKenzie, at the December

meeting. NUPE, of course, continued to insist on

three VPs for themselves.

The size and part of the full executive counc

il was the subject of rather more debate, with

NUPSE pointing out that they woul

d be outnumbered on the full executive by twelve to four, given the

provincial distribution of NUPE and NUPSE locals.

Again, MacKenzie attempted some compromise,

suggesting that NUPE initially receive entirely six ( quite t

han seven) provincial representatives, thus reducing

their overall authority of the full administrator to nine to

six. The minutes from the December meeting do not

196 27

Ibid., 2.

CLC figures show that in mid-1957 NUPE had 205 locals representing nearly 35,000 members in all provinces except PEI.

NUPSE, on the other hand, had 60 locals representing around 15,

500 members on the provinces of Saskatchewan, Manitoba,

ontario and Quebec. G. Cushing and J.

MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 2, 3.

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 6. Interesti

ngly, while the CLC Merger Propos

al quite clearly favoured the

geographic footing for representation, Cushing and MacKenzie were united nations

willing to jettison the NUPSE sectoral structure, therefore

permitting both provincial divisions and serv

ice divisions. However, without providi

ng any structural relationship between sectoral

groupings and the decision-making structure of

the national union, adoption of this pr

oposal would have set up the conditions f

the eventual irrelevance of NUPSE ’ s former structure. Thr

oughout the merger discussions, the

issue of sectoral groups was

raised but always ill manage with, therefore leaving an ambivalence for CUPE to deal with in the future. 30

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 7.

indicate any reception from NUPE : given the logic of

their position on other repr

esentational issues, it is condom to assume they rejected such an arrangement without much consideration.

The CLC Merger Proposal provided little consolation to the NUPSE delegates with respect to their future representation. The Proposal clearly gave the numeral and structural advantage to NUPE, despite MacKenzie ’ s more compromising gestures in December 1956. As the larger union

with a provincial

structure, NUPE would carry the numbers on the silicon

x-member National Executive Committee and have the

advantage at the larger National Executive Board, si

nce representation would be based on provincial rather

than sectoral lines.

The NEC would be the union’s main administrative body between conventions, and

would consist of the National President and five Vice-Presidents elected on a regional basis, but ‘ at large ’ at the annual conventionality. The CLC marriage proposal therefore mandat

ed one VP from the Pacific Region, two from the

Prairie Region and two from the eastern Region. The National Executive Board would consist of the NEC and a representative “ named by each ”

provincial division. NUPE would hold the presidency, and a VP

position from each of the three regions for a sum of

4 on the NEC. NUPSE, t

herefore, would hold two VP

positions, one from each of the Prairie and East

ern Regions for a total of two on the NEC.

The principle

used to distribute these VPs to each of NUPE and NU

PSE concerned their relative numerical strength in

each of the define regions. The circulation of the August 1957 proposals and

the clear advantage they implied for NUPE led

some NUPSE members, like OHEU second vice-president William Whitehead, to question more vigorously
197 31

W.A. Whitehead, “Analysis of the Proposed Merger”, 1, 2.

Lenihan, 184.

The BSEIU has been known as the Service Employ

ees International Union (SEIU) since 1968.

the apologize logic ’ south cogency and to posit a connect betw

een “union quality” and represent

ational rights. NUPE’s

larger membership should not automatically give them greater executiv

e board representation, let alone the

presidency. Whitehead argued that the numbers presented “ a very diagonal

ed and actually untrue picture” of

the relative military capability of the two unions. “ Numbers in

a case such as this can be extremely misleading

because 15,000 people who are actually functioning as a

Union can quite likely supply better Presidential

material than another constitution with

35,000 which are not functioning.”

In his basic facts, it seems

Whitehead was not army for the liberation of rwanda off, as Lenihan himself readily

admitted in his recollections that many NUPE

affiliates were locals “ in name only ” – “ hapless constitution, poor agreements, inadequate local anesthetic leadership, no patronize stewards, and no educational oeuvre to imbue the

membership with some degree of militancy.”

Such

weaknesses gave NUPSE some further justification for

believing they were entitled to a greater proportion

of representation in CUPE. A direct implication of NUPE ’ s continual insist

ence on the lion’s share of representation was a

dogged immunity on NUPSE ’ s part to conclude amalgamation any

time soon. Instead, in an attempt to improve

its position in the fusion talks, NUPSE embarked on a run of aggressive expansionism which brought it into conflicts with NUPE and other unions like Build

ing Service Employees International Union (BSEIU)

organizing in the hospital jurisdiction. Attempts

to organize groups of provincial workers, like

Saskatchewan psychiatric hospital workers and Manitoba Hydro employees, would besides bring NUPSE into address conflict with the CLC itself, which was equi

vocal at best about the organizational forms appropriate

for public employees in general. The CLC ’ s definition

of the future jurisdiction of CUPE, and whether it

would encompass NUPSE ’ s early jurisdiction as defined by the CCL, thus became a central issue for NUPSE in the fusion talks through the future several years .
198 34

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 5.

These jurisdictional problems were triggered by

both NUPE’s initial merger stance and the CLC’s

1957 Merger Proposal. While NUPSE insisted the fresh or

ganization retain the jurisdiction of both former

unions, the CLC proposal defined CUPE ’ mho field as incl

uding “any group of workers in Canada comprised of

employees of a Civic or municipal Government body, or any sub-division thence, or of a Public Board, Commission, Hospital or Library in the Civic or Municipal field, or of any other Civic or Municipal Public governing body. ”

This delineation would seem to leave in ambigui

ty the status of provincial electrical utility

workers which were so significant in NUPSE. The CLC

also omitted the status of both direct and indirect

peasant politics workers, which, given its

tendency towards a more expansive identity, NUPSE also

considered within its legitimate jurisdiction. There

were future implications for the new union as well:

confining CUPE ’ s jurisdiction to municipal workers w

ould serve to limit its later growth, and thus the

influence it could wield in the broader canadian labor

movement. NUPSE was to focus nearly all of its

attention on this doubt of legal power in subsequent

merger talks, making it a major obstacle until 1961.

We will return to this central trouble in the next incision. Tensions besides existed around the definition and alloca

tion of staff positions in the new union. Both

sides accepted that the new union would need more st

aff, particularly as NUPE still relied on the CLC for

aid in servicing their locals. The immediate refer for some, like Little and Rintoul, was whether or not they would retain or improve their copper

rrent position. However, the question of what

kind

of staff was

required and the character they should play in the union alabama

so simmered under the surface. It is difficult to

divide out genuine differences in approaches to staffi

ng from the personal dislike some had of the likely

resident of a particular placement. however, it appears that NUPE favoured increase staff representatives to work with the locals, while NU

PSE would later advocate great

er numbers of expert staff

199 35

Lenihan, 182; F. Eady, “Report on Current Position re Merger

with NUPE (Confidential)”, September 20, 1960, CUPE Fonds

[ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5 File 12. ] 36

W. Black, letter to P. Lenihan, August 9, 1956: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

T. Lewis, letter to P. Lenihan, August 16, 1956: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

W. Young, letter to P. Lenihan, August 28, 1956: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

NUPE and NUPSE, “Memorandum

of Understanding”, 2.

at the central office.

However, the latter issue would rema

in submerged for some time, while more

personalistic objections took immediate concentrate phase. It was initially agreed that all staff from each uni

on would be retained, along with the two top staff

positions – National Director and Director of Organi

zation – whose work would be divided accordingly and

whose condition would be equal. however, given the many

qualms expressed about the position of Director of

organization vitamin a well as the probable resident of that oxygen

ffice, Stan Little, who, during his years at NUPSE had

been relatively unsuccessful in organizing fresh members, NUPE soon rethought their place. Bill Black questioned “ the sex appeal of having a NUPSE representative fall aut

omatically into the position of Director

of Organization ”, given that “ the NUPSE organization di

d not have the ramifications of our organization.”

Tom Lewis opposed the Director of Organization

coming from NUPSE “unless it can be proven that

member has the best qualifications to hold such a stead. ”

Finally, William Young suggested that having

both a National Director and Director of Organization of

equal status was merely a way to “pacify” NUPSE,

and what was sincerely needed was a Head of Research.

This was not to mention the potential conflicts that

would arise as a result of two men, once accu

stomed to being in charge of their respective unions,

having to share ‘ equal ’ and ill-defined positions in

the new organization. As a result, NUPE argued in

December that “ one Officer should have the respons

ibility and authority between B

oard Meetings”, which,

not amazingly, “ should be vested in

their present National Director.”

Given the more specific nature of

the Director of Organization ’ sulfur function, it would make

sense to allocate general administrative responsibility

to the National Director. Clearly unwilling to imagine Stan Little taking management from Robert Rintoul, however, NUPSE inescapably resisted this trace .
200 40

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie

, “Merger Proposal”, 2-4.

NUPE and NUPSE, “Memorandum

of Understanding”, 3.

The CLC ’ s staffing proposals attempted a more even-handed and legitimate approach : a full-time Secretary-Treasurer ( preferably than

National Director) and a Director of Organization would be appointed by

the NEC, each of whom would be the present NUPE

National Director and NUPSE Director of Organization

respectively. possibly instinctively understand how

poorly Rintoul and Little were to get on, the CLC

prescribed that the Secret

ary-Treasurer be located in Ottawa and t

he Director of Organization in Toronto, despite the irrationality of a geographically cleave nati

onal office. All existing staff were to be offered

employment in CUPE. In 1957, if all continued in their positions, CUPE ’ s total staff complement would have been one Researcher, nine playing field staff and four selenium

cretaries, with seven coming from each union.

While an restless agreement reigned on this question, more

fundamental differences over the extent and

types of staffing were to emerge at a former point in the fusion process. The CLC Merger Proposal besides raised a barbed i

ssue which had lain dormant in the first year of

discussions : that of ‘ per head ’ union dues.

The July 1956 meeting unanimously agreed that one per

caput structure should exist for the stallion organization.

however, the issue was not quite so simple, and two relate issues emerged to plague the fusion talks.

First, the level at which per capita would be set

was a matter of great controversy. Second, the antique

istence of groups within each union who had, up to now,

been exempted in diverse ways from the standard per hundred

apita rate, and wanted this arrangement to continue

on the grounds that they were self-servicing, was to

prove extremely problematic

. The problem of these

limited locals was the cause of major inner

struggles in both NUPE and especially NUPSE between

1957 and 1960. The CLC Merger Proposal set the manque CUPE ’ s

per capita at 50 cents per member per month.

201 42

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 3, 4.

The BC Federation of Public Employees was

the precursor of the BC Division of CUPE.

however, the deviation between both unions ’ actual

per capitas and the proposed one was significant. In

1957, NUPE ’ second per caput was set at 27 cents, NUPSE ’ sulfur at $ 1.00.

Many NUPSE members could not

visualize how a per caput of 50 cents would permit the fresh National Union to provide them with the overhaul they had come to rely upon. The huge majority

of the NUPE membership paid dramatically less than

NUPSE ’ second per head, and an increase to 50 cents west

ould entail a near doubling of per capita. NUPE

members in general were reluctant to provide any nati

onal structure with more per capita, as this would

drain resources at the local anesthetic level, specially in

those unions unwilling to go to the membership for dues

increases. quite much, debates in both unions

about per capita had been framed in terms of cheapness

and parochialism versus generosity, indeed

lidarity and progressive thinking.

Indeed, the question of per capita

does involve views on what members owe each early, par

ticularly in redistributive terms, and thus speaks

to unlike definitions of ‘ community ’. While deoxythymidine monophosphate

hese attitudes no doubt informed the various positions, the

debate over the allow level of per head

also reflected deeper disagreements over the proper

localization of might and agency in the union, the decline

function of the union and who should carry it out, and

the necessary elements of the union ’ s structure to

be built up and how. In NUPSE’s case, per capita

reflected the laterality of a vision in which the centrum

l union provided service to locals, while in NUPE, a

majority believed that locals should retain most of

the resources and control, particularly over staff, and that

central services should be relatively limited and technical in nature. To complicate matters further, in each organizati

on, specific groups had special arrangements with

their respective national union, and did not pay the like

level of per capita as most locals. These groups,

the BC Federation of Public Employees,

and Locals 180, 43 and 79 in NUPE, and OHEU and Local 500 in

NUPSE, were large and mighty in their respective

organizations, and the effect of the merger on these

groups could not but be a major circumstance for metric ton

he negotiating committees. As we saw in Chapter 3,

202 44

G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 4.

OHEU per caput was a mere 10 cents, and, if made to

relinquish their special rate, joining the new union

would entail an increase of 500 %. The Winnipeg Civic

Federation, NUPSE Local 500, similarly paid at a

especial pace of 15 cents.

Both deemed ‘self-servicing’, these units merely paid NUPSE little more than

their CLC affiliation fees. NUPE had like problems, but

they took a different form. NUPE locals had built

up a tradition of self-servicing as directly affiliates of the Trades and Labor Congre

ss, and many of the larger

ones had long employed their own full-time commercial enterprise agents.

Many locals therefore resisted increases, and

some, like Locals 43 and 79, would demand rebates if per head was raised by even a minuscule sum. A conventional rebate organization existed in the case of the

BC Federation of Public Employees and Local 180, who

received a annually grant from the National to service thyroxine

he BC membership. Moreover, many of the full-time

business agents acted as a pro-autonomy force in NUPE,

as their power and control was situated in the

local. These locals were not to give up su

ch arrangements easily, and the question of business agents

would become a serious trouble in the late days of the fusion discussions. consequently, within both unions, unlike groups

had varying expectations of the National Union.

Their extra arrangements reflected the being

of competing identities and visions within each

administration, some centred on the local anesthetic, some on t

he sector, and some on the province. The question of

per capita would thus involve a debate over which identities should be accepted as legitimate and deserve of recognition and digest. The relative power

of these different groups was to determine the

extent to which their particular interests were to be public relations

eserved within the future union structure. For the time

being, however, approaches to the motion of financi

ng the new organization were anything but unified,

and important home battles had to be fought within each union first. interestingly, although NUPE was seen as particula

rly weak vis-à-vis its locals, nowhere was this

argue over the relative ability of different levels

of the union more protracted than in the relationship

203 45

Interestingly, Kealey Cummings, a major protagonist in the r

enegotiation of OHEU’s status inside NUPSE, completely rejected

the idea that OHEU had a special character in the fusion committee,

or was in any way an obstacle to merger( Kealey Cummings,

consultation by author, 17 December, 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON ). As

we shall see in a forthcoming section, an examination of

NUPSE and OHEU documents between 1957 and 1960 re

veals otherwise. Indeed, the Powe

r Workers’ Union’s own history

indicates that resoluteness of the OHEU-

NUPSE dispute “cleared the way for the Na

tional Union’s merger with NUPE” (Power

Workers ’ Union, 22 ). between NUPSE and its local 1000, the Ontario Hydro Employees ’ Union. While the leadership of NUPSE seemed initially subject, for pragmatic sanction reasons, to to

lerate the extensive autonomy afforded to OHEU, they

had no choice but to reconsider this position once

merger talks with NUPE began. From the outset, the

extra status of OHEU within NUPSE was viewed

as a problem by both NUPE and CLC representatives.

The being of such a big unit which did not pay wide per head and which had no obligation to adhere to decisions made by the diverse governing bodies of the union would introduce an important element of fiscal and political weakness in any unify entit

y. OHEU’s status had already exposed NUPSE to

charges from the rest of the british labour party

movement that they were not a

“real union”, especially from private

sector unions whose organizations had more substant

ial centralized control, and made them look like

hypocrites when accusing NUPE of the very thing they

also suffered in their midst. Furthermore, it was

( rightly ) feared that the being of a local paying

a “special rate” would unleash internal divisions and a

deluge of demands for similar arrangements, particularly

amongst the highly autonomist NUPE locals. For

NUPE, the NUPSE-OHEU Agreement of

Understanding was thus a serious barrier to consummating the

amalgamation.

NUPSE was in a delicate position as a consequence. While desiring the amalgamation, OHEU ’ s ability besides had to be appreciated and thus cautiously managed by NUPSE liter

eaders. Recall that the OHEU’s affiliation tripled

NUPSE ’ s membership overnight, and that it could leave the Union with less than 6,000 members at a moment ’ mho notice. NUPSE leaders were

therefore faced with two choices: to allow OHEU representatives to

shape the negotiations in a direction that protected their parti

cular interests, thus likely scuttling the chances of

amalgamation, or to renegotiate or even eliminate t

he 1956 Agreement of Underst

anding, thereby potentially

204 46

R. Rintoul, letter to NUPE Executive Board, January 1957:

1-2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 3, File 13]

NUPE and NUPSE, “Memorandum

of Understanding”, 3.

R. Rintoul, letter to NUPE Executive Board, January 1957: 1-

2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 3, File 13]

pushing OHEU out of the Union and ensuring the fusion

would be the assimilation that was feared. This

was a Hobson ’ s Choice, to be indisputable. It appears that, during the initial amalgamation discussions

in 1956, the first alternative was opted for. The

bearing and interventions of an OHEU spokesperson on the NUPSE fusion committee from December 1956 ahead gave the NUPE committee “ the impression that we were not discussing a possible amalgamation with NUPSE, but quite with the Hydro Employees. ” B

ob Rintoul in particular felt that “Hydro was the big

concern regarding a fusion ” and was acting as stumbling block in the action.

indeed, NUPSE admitted that “ it would take a limited time to have their self-s

ustaining units brought completely into accord” with a

unified per caput social organization.

In Rintoul’s subsequent letter to members of the NUPE Executive, however,

he reported the time needed by NUPSE to be “ considerabl

e”. In a meeting with the CLC Executive

Committee, it was agreed that “ deoxyadenosine monophosphate long as the Hydro peopl

e were involved, it was useless trying to bring

about a fusion. ”

Given this situation, NUPSE leaders had li

ttle choice but to contemplate the second

option : fetch OHEU under its Constitution and e

liminate the Agreement of

Understanding. The difficult

negotiations over this exit were to last three year

s, constituting another important obstacle to merger, and

will be discussed in more detail in a late part. Given the differences over the manner of me

rger and representational

issues, the important

internal divisions over per caput and ‘ limited

interests’, and the problem of jurisdiction, NUPSE

representatives indicated at the

end of 1956 that their membership w

ould not be ready for fusion until at least 1958. As we shall see, they were modest in thyroxine

heir estimate: in fact, the problems with jurisdiction and

OHEU would keep NUPSE from badly pursuing thousand

ger until 1960. After the December 1956 meeting,

the NUPE Committee concluded that the amalgamation proce

ss was at present a waste of time and money, and

205 49

Ibid.

R. Rintoul, Merger Report to the 1958 NUPE Convention: 5. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 2, File 9]

decided to attend future meetings only when called by the CLC.

As a result, little progress was made on

amalgamation between 1957 and 1961. The perceive reasons fo

r these delays were themselves a source of

bitterness, particularly within NUPE, and reduced the parti

cipants’ drive to negotiate even further. The NUPE

Merger Committee, and Rintoul in particular, contradict

ved NUPSE was stalling until they could negotiate more

advantageous terms for themselves. Rintoul felt that

NUPSE was “merely playing the cat and mouse game

until such fourth dimension as they figure the cards are falling their way, and it is in their interests in a selfish direction to continue amalgamation meetings. ”

From NUPSE ’ s point of opinion, however, it is hard to

see what else they could have done but stall for

clock time. NUPE ’ mho attitude towards NUPSE ’ randomness place in

the new union presented the smaller union with an

unattractive loss of political baron, and the toleration of a union structure which they felt inadequate to their vision of ‘ effective unionism ’. Threatened with

the potential loss of present and future membership,

depending upon the consequence of jurisdictional haggle with the CLC and the negotiations with OHEU, as well as with the possibility of being swallowed up by

NUPE, NUPSE had no choice but to consolidate its

position to be considered a more actual ‘ equal ’ to NU

PE. The ‘resolutions’ found to each of these

problems was besides to have an important impact on the determine of the future union. II.

Jurisdictional Battles: Organizing Ho

spital and Provincial Workers

The desire for parity with NUPE thus led NUPSE in

to a pragmatic pursuit of more members and a

broader legal power via a vigorous campaign of expansion.

This was not the first time that expansion was

seen as the solution to NUPSE ’ s potential elimination :

remember that the addition of OHEU to its ranks in

1956 had been equitable enough to stave off NUPSE ’ s elimination by

the CLC as the smallest of the four unions

operate in the public sector legal power. At

the NUPSE NEB’s April 1957 meeting, however, Little argued

206 51

NUPSE, National Executive Board Minutes, April 27, 1957: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 6, File 4]

S. Little, “The Director’s Report”,

NUPSE News

1 (12): 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol 3, File 25]. Interestingly,

this phrase describing NUPSE ’ s motivations for pursuing the Montreal civic

workers is underlined in the copy of

NUPSE News

held by the National Archives of Canada. This transcript is depart of the NUPE files on the fusion discussions, and therefore one can conclude that their suspicions about NUPSE ’ s desire to

expand before concluding the

merger were confirmed.

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, April 27, 1957: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 6, File 4]. With the

universe of the CLC, the federation ’ second per vitamin c

apita was reduced to 7 cents. OHEU agreed to

continue to pay at the former per capit

degree of the CCL, 10 cents, with the solution that 3 penny

s were now going to NUPSE to

support organizing the unorganized.

that the hazard of elimination remained, particularly gastrointestinal

ven the tenor of merger talks with NUPE, and, as a

solution, the Union had to redouble its efforts to organize and expand its jurisdiction.

In December 1959, the

issue of expansion remained central : in the union ’ south newsletter,

NUPSE News

, Little publicly identified

NUPSE ’ second strengths and weaknesses in the respective prov

inces and pointed out the areas of potential future

arrangement. Manitoba, Saskatchewan, Ontario and

Quebec were deemed areas of strength and potential

growth. Of particular importance was the anticipated in

tegration of the Montreal civic workers’ local into

NUPSE by mid-1960, which, Little argued, “ will not onl

y add great prestige and balance to our Union, but

will besides enhance our bargaining position in future

Merger talks with our counterpart organization.”

however, NUPSE ’ s ability to organize had long been an

issue of some concern, both internally and

in the old CCL. “ Certain weaknesses ” continued to act as a bracken on expansion, not least of which was the unwillingness of OHEU – as the largest affiliate – to

contribute sufficient financial resources to fund

organizing campaigns and develop the world power of the National Union.

The use of expansion as a tactic to

improve NUPSE ’ s influence over the routine and stru

cture of the merged entity thus raised several

significant issues. First, given the NUPSE ’ s difficult

ies with new organizing, the method of expansion was

shifted to fusion with already organized groups. Su

ch a strategy entailed negotiations at the leadership

grade, with which Little felt a lot more comfort

able, and de-emphasized the role of members in decision-

making about the kind of union they wanted. The pursuit

of mergers thus reinforced a notion that members

were to be mobilized behind leadership initiatives ra

ther than represented by

those leaders. Second,

expansion brought the question of identity and park in

terests back to the fore. As new groups like

207 54

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, April 27, 1957: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 6, File 4]

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes,

February 11, 1956: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC A

cc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 6, File 3]; Lenihan,

188. 56

Bud Henderson was a CCF partisan from

Saskatchewan who later became Director

of CUPE’s Prairie Region. (MacMillan,

149 ). hospital workers were introduced into the union,

these challenged the prevailing ideas of OHEU in

particular regarding which workers they shared interests with, and what kind of union structure was needed to serve those interests. As well, the kinds of

compromises necessary to bring these groups into NUPSE,

largely through limited per caput rates and memory of

local servicing structures, diluted the central union’s

command over resources and required that the barium

is of unity within the union be renegotiated.

There were besides external brakes on NUPSE ’ s gr

owth. As NUPSE moved to bring more workers

into their fold, specially in the hospital and hydro southeast

ctors in the Prairies, the CLC refused to clarify

jurisdictional boundaries in the populace sector. As a result, NUPSE ’ s expansionism brought it into good conflict with the CLC and several of its affiliates,

some of whom continued to feel bitter about OHEU’s

affiliation to NUPSE and who were alleged to be actively

working to undermine the union’s credibility in the

labor movement and within the union itself.

The questions of NUPSE expansion, jurisdiction and the

particular condition of OHEU were therefore intertwined in complicate ways. Unsurprisingly, the problem of legal power emerged

within the first year of the CLC’s existence.

Negotiations were unmanageable given the count of

unions occupying the same space, and exacerbated by

some unions ’ avocation of expansion without waiting for

the lines to be set down by the CLC. With the

Winnipeg Civic Federation ’ s addition to NUPSE ’ second ranks

as Local 500 in mid-1956, which itself flouted a

CLC agreement to negotiate the eventual home of thymine

he former OBU unions, the Union now had a base of

operations from which they could organi

ze other workers in the Prairies.

In charge of this programme of

“ Western development ” was the newly-appointed Western Director, Bud Henderson.

Initially centred upon

organizing Saskatchewan hospital workers, the campai

gn brought NUPSE into direct conflict with both

208 57

S. Little, letter to NUPSE National Executive Board, May 30,

1957: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 7, File 2]

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, June 22, 1957.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 6, File 4]

Lenihan, 192-3.

NUPE and the Building Service Employees International Union ( BSEIU ). The CLC was obviously antagonized by NUPSE ’ second activities as good. According

to Little’s report on the CLC Advisory Board Meeting

in May 1957, “ certain officials of the Congress … ar

e not in accord with [NUPSE’s] doings and will oppose”

attempts to organize western hospital locals.

By June, the CLC was accusing NUPSE of raiding several

locals of provincial psychiatric hospital workers,

up to now members of the Union of Saskatchewan Civil

Servants ( USCS ).

A more permanent wave resolution of these tensions was obviously needed. At post here was more than NUPSE ’ south survival, aluminum

though that was certainly foremost in Little’s

mind. besides underlying these disputes about jurisdiction were conflicting notions about the kind of unionism which would take hold and become dominant in the C

anadian public sector. We have already explored in

chapter 2 the reasons why many of NUPSE ’ s founding

locals departed from the IBEW’s craft model of

unionism. similarly, BSEIU ’ s approach to labour-management relations was baffling for both NUPE and NUPSE leaders. Organizing cleaning staff in privat

e (Catholic) hospitals and separate school boards,

BSEIU was seen as a collaborator and staff-run uni

on which set up “sweetheart” unions and contracts in

collusion with management. The rivalries between NUPE and BSEIU in Alberta had led Pat Lenihan to conclude that BSEIU ’ s “ Canadian leadership was very

reactionary” and had the effect of keeping public

sector wages and combativeness down, encouraging identification with the employer, and impeding the development of working class consciousness more by and large.

While Little did not share Lenihan’s explicit

classify analysis, he no doubt worried about how the pres

ence of a non-militant union in the hospital worker

legal power would affect the exploitation of consequence

ive public sector unionism. Similar concerns no doubt

applied to the civil service associations like USCS,

who had jurisdiction over direct provincial government

employees and institutions and were hush widely regarded as company unions engaged in ‘ collective
209 60

S. Little, letter to NUPSE National Executive Board, July 22,

1957: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 7, File 2]

begging ’. In other words, there were substant

ive motivations for NUPSE (and NUPE) to pursue

organization of hospital workers beyond the simple desire for expansion. Under the auspices of the CLC, Public

Sector Jurisdiction Committee meetings began in

December 1956 to sort out who should be doing what wi

th respect to Western hospital workers. It took

until the summer of 1957 before the CLC had negotia

ted a one-year Memorandum of Understanding

between the BSEIU, NUPSE and NUPE on the publish of ju

risdiction in the hospital sector. In this

agreement, NUPSE and NUPE were to refrain from organizing in “ certain types of hospitals except in Saskatchewan ”, for one year ; meanwhile, BSEIU and NUPE

were to withdraw from the current campaigns

NUPSE was running in Saskatchewan hospitals. The specific logic behind this allocation is not clear, except that it would eliminate the want for worker

s to choose between more than one union, a situation

which Little obviously favoured.

It besides is not clear how successful this agreem

ent was: competitive organizing continued despite

the divvying up of turf by home leaders in the A

ugust Memorandum. In 1957, as NUPE’s new full-time

western representative, Lenihan was successfully or

ganizing locals in Winnipeg after the loss of the

Winnipeg Civic Federation to NUPSE. To Lenihan, it onl

y seemed fair to continue to organize given that

NUPSE had not respected the agreement

regarding the disposition of the OBU unions. In response,

Lenihan began using his old OBU contacts to sign up Winnipeg school control panel workers, the Selkirk civil employees and the Winnipeg Children ’ s Hospital.

This last endeavour crossed the line and directly

challenged the August Memorandum. Lenihan recounted that
210 61

Lenihan, 188.

The Saskatchewan Federation of Public

Employees was the precursor to

the Saskatchewan Division of CUPE.

NUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 22-23, 1958: 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 4, File 6 ]

Lenihan, 184.

We flush got into one of the locals that was aluminum

ready supposed to be with NUPSE. I’m invited there

and I spoke to them at a big meet. The result of

it was that they came unanimously to us. We passed

the cards out and got them signed up. After the meeting, I came second to my hotel. I phoned Rintoul and I made a report, telling him what I was doing, what we were

accomplishing. ‘Well, I’m not so sure, Pat, that we

should do that, ’ and this kind of talk. The next night I get a phone call from the president,

from Buss: ‘This violates everything. Give

them back their cards. Drop it. ’ I was on the ve

rge of quitting because if we had gone back, we’d have got

more. That was a death shove off to us in Winnipeg. That was Bob Rintoul.

This was no bare personality conflict, however ; at stak

e was the capacity of a National Director to enforce

on playing field staff an already-floundering nationally-negotia

ted agreement. Rintoul, concerned with the need to

preserve whatever good will existed with NUPSE and

the CLC leadership, also had to be seen to be in

control of the decisions over what groups NUPE woul

d organize. Otherwise, if staffers like Lenihan could

unilaterally undertake such initiatives, Rintoul

would have little credibility in future negotiations.

contest in the field continued, however.

A letter from the Saskatchewan Federation of Public

Employees

to the March 1958 NUPE NEB meeting point

ed out that “the methods used by NUPSE

representatives in obtaining Congress locals,

were not conducive to bringing about a Merger.”

These

conflicts coloured the 1958 NUPE Convention. In

his speech to the delegates, Bill Buss, now NUPE

President after Lenihan accepted a staff position as fi

eld representative in the Prairies in January 1957,

explained that “ acrimonious struggles ” had occurred th

rough 1957-58 which had “emanated over jurisdiction”,

despite the Agreement in force during this period.

Buss insisted that “[d]isputes have arisen because of

try raids. In most cases these disputes were

ironed out, others still remain.” While not forthcoming

with the details of these disputes, Buss was clear

on NUPE’s role in them: “[A]t no time was our National

Union creditworthy for these disagreements. We have

protected our membership but remained faithful to

the memo of understanding. ” As a result of the

failure to demarcate the territory, Buss pointed out

211 65

NUPE, 1958 Convention Proceedings: 1, 4. CUPE F

onds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 2, File 9]

The NUPSE NEB decided to withdraw from

the Agreement at their June 20

, 1958 meeting. They r

eaffirmed this decision at

their September 19

, 1958 meeting, explicitly rejecting a request from

Joe MacKenzie of the CLC to renew the agreement.

When the CLC convened a meet in March 1959 in another attack to renew the agreemen

t, neither NUPE nor NUPSE was

will to continue the arrangement ( NUPSE,

National Executive Board minutes, April

24, 1959 : 2. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 6, File 5 ] ). No subsequent agreement on hospita

l jurisdiction was reached in t

he period before CUPE’s emergence.

OHEU, Executive Board Report to Council

of Chief Stewards, November 11, 1957: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234,

Vol. 7, File 11 ] 68

J.R. Walker, “Report of Meeting on Jurisdiction and Unity

between OHEU and NUPSE”, April 20, 1959: 2-3. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 3 ] 69

K. Cummings, “Joint Coordination Co

mmittee meeting between Local 1000 (OHE

U) and NUPSE”, minutes, January 21, 1958:

1. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] that NUPE would likely have to fight for changes in the hospital legal power.

Perhaps most indicative of the

Agreement ’ s insufficiency was both NUPE and NUPSE ’ s refusal to renew it in August of 1958.

undoubtedly, this ongoing direct conflict betw

een NUPSE and NUPE, and the inability to resolve

differences or cooperate efficaciously, did not build mu

ch good will at the level of the membership or the

leadership. NUPSE ’ s conflicts with the CLC over the allow

jurisdiction for provincial public sector workers

besides had serious immediate and long-run consequences

. By the fall of 1957, NUPSE was meeting with

employees of the Manitoba Hydro-

Electric Board, and by fall of 1958 with workers from three of

Saskatchewan ’ s provincial psychiatric hospitals. Thes

e groups were ‘problematic’ due to their status as

employees of provincial rather than municipal agencies.

The CLC’s literature on Public Sector Jurisdiction

indicated that they envisioned “ three National Organizati

ons for the three levels of government – Municipal,

Provincial and Federal. ”

Direct federal and provincial employees were the realm of civil service

associations, while rights to organize municipal empl

oyees, including municipally controlled hospitals, were

schism between NUPE, NUPSE, IBEW and BSEIU. A signific

ant grey area existed with respect to employees

of politics commissions and crown corporations, as

the CLC recognized all the unions in the field up to

this point.

thus neither the Saskatchewan or Manitoba

groups belonged in the CLC’s vision of NUPSE (or

CUPE for that topic ) as a union of municipal workers.

212 70

This interpretation is belied by the CLC’s willingness to grant pr

ovincial Civil Service Associations affiliation when many sti

ll had

condescension for the organized labor drift. 71

K. Cummings, “Joint Coordi

nation Committee meeting”, 2.

This narrow view of CUPE ’ s future legal power has

several possible explanations. Possibly, given

OHEU ’ s special condition, the CLC feared NUPSE woul

d not require new provincial employee groups to

become entire members of the labor movement

and insist on their becoming “real unions”.

As well, with the

CLC dominated by U.S.-based unions at the time, it could be that the interests of international unions like the IBEW and BSEIU were being protected. If NUPSE

or CUPE were given exclusive jurisdiction over

populace utility program workers, for example, the IBEW would be left to organize in the a lot smaller individual construction trades. A longer-term strategy may have been

at work, as would be Little’s interpretation later

in the 1970s when the emergence would resurface : the CLC may have been attempting to place limits on future membership and restrict the emergence of what was to

become the largest union in Canada, and a threat to the

political influence of the US-based puerto rico

ivate sector unions in the CLC. Finally, the CLC leadership may have

been content to see union structures and identities passively reflect employers ’ organizational decisions, which brought them into conflict with populace sector

union leaders who were working with broader identities in

mind. More pressingly, the CLC ’ randomness position had implications for NUPSE ’ s existing membership. A joint meet of OHEU and NUPSE leaders deem

ed “the present situation in the

Province of Manitoba … a vital

one to the future of NUPSE ” and thus committed to ta

king “all necessary steps” to secure the entry of

Manitoba Power Commission employees into NUPSE.

Important questions motivated and hung over this

decisiveness : if these workers were to be defined out

of NUPSE’s jurisdiction, what would be the status of

OHEU, itself a body of provincial workers ? If OHEU

was allowed to remain in NUPSE, what would happen

to them as an isolated group of provincial workers

in a sea of municipal workers? How long could OHEU

cling to their special condition in this context ? How

would this situation affect OHEU’s obligation to “extend

213 72

K. Munnings, letter to K. Cummings and OHEU Executive Board,

October 15, 1957: 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234,

Vol. 7, File 11 ] 73

K. Cummings, Merger Report – NUPSE-NUPE

– to OHEU Executive Board, Decem

ber 12, 1957: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc.

MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] 74

R. Rintoul, Merger Report to the 1958 NUPE Convention: 3-4. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG

28 I234 Vol. 2, File 9]. Interestingly,

little and Rintoul ’ s respective interpretations of this meet

couldn’t be more different. While

Rintoul clearly indicated that NUPE

was unwilling to help in NUPSE ’ randomness battles, and that their committee

was frustrated with being drawn into these problems, Little

wrote to the NUPSE NEB that their presentation “ was well rece

ived” by the NUPE delegation (S. Little, letter to NUPSE National

Executive Board, July 9, 1958 : 1. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5 File 10 ] ). constitution to the unorganized within the established ju

risdiction” if that established jurisdiction no longer

included workers ‘ like ’ themselves ? If OHEU was rest

ricted to NUPSE, but separated from other provincial

hydro workers, what kind of political

options would they have if discontent

ed with either its present or future

national union ? A gain reply on the place of provincial workers, and OHEU specifically, within NUPSE, was thus urgently needed – particularly vitamin a far as OHEU

leaders were concerned – before any fruitful merger

talks could continue.

The following three fusion meetings, in December

1957, June 1958 and April 1959, were as a result

dominated – some in NUPE would have said hijacked – by discussions of NUPSE ’ s jurisdictional problems. At the December 1957 meeting, NU

PSE representatives began by insist

ing on a clarification of the

jurisdiction as defined in the CLC Merger Proposal, re

iterating that their jurisdiction for non-civil servant

provincial employees under the CCL would have to

be retained in any new organization. As Cummings

reported, this was emphasized due to “ recent information

rmation regarding the Manitoba Power Commission’s

employees … conveyed to them by … [ CLC Presi

dent] Jodoin.” CLC Vice-President Cushing was able to

convert NUPSE to move the discussion to a desperate

ct meeting between them and the CLC Executive

Board.

Evidently unsatisfied with the results of that

meeting, NUPSE continued to urge NUPE to side with

them on jurisdictional questions before agreeing to amalgamation

terms. As shortsighted as this may seem, the

NUPE committee refused, as the jurisdictions under quarrel were not partially of NUPE ’ s field.

Rather than

see the expansion of legal power as serving the long-

term interests of the union and public sector workers,

NUPE focussed on the short-run terror such a change

posed to their position in the merged union. The

214 75

R. Rintoul, Merger Report to the 1959 NUPE Convention: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 2, File 10]

Ibid., 1-2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 2, File 10]; R. Rintoul, “Brief Resume of Merger Meeting,” April 20th, 1959:

1-3. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 25 ] NUPE delegating concluded that amalgamation talks

had been postponed not because of NUPSE’s volume of

negotiations ( as had been claimed by Little ), but because of

their attempts to alter

their jurisdiction in ways

that would shift the balance of office in the amalgamation talks. No doubt they resented being commandeered in NUPSE ’ s attempts to expand its oscilloscope. Tensions around NUPSE ’ sulfur solicitation of NUPE ’ s suppor

t in these struggles came to a head at the

April 1959 fusion meet. Intended as a forum

to discuss the draft CUPE constitution reviewed by

Rintoul and Little in Niagara Falls the previ

ous month, the meeting bogged down as the NUPSE

representatives again insisted that

“the question of the jurisdiction of the proposed merged organization

would have to be defined before any fusion could take place. ”

The NUPE Committee’s position was that

fusion should come before any discussion of jurisdicti

on, but agreed “in the interests of unity” to NUPSE’s

request. Over the course of the following two hours, both

unions put forward their views on jurisdiction, and the

CLC representatives, Claude Jodoin and Henry Rhodes,

made a commitment to bringing the matter before

the CLC Executive Council. When the delegates last moved on to what wa

s meant to be the main substance of the

discussion, the gulp constitution, the NUPE Committ

ee was in for a rude shock. Despite the agreement

reached between Little and Rintoul on the draft, NUPSE

proposed a long list of changes, most of which

were unacceptable to NUPE. then, with identical fiddling

discussion of merger having taken place, NUPSE broke

off the meet, despite NUPE ’ mho expectation of two days of talks for which they had planned and scheduled. The NUPE representatives were frankincense “ v

ery disappointed with the NUPSE merger committee”,

their feel of being used by NUPSE in

its struggle with the CLC exacerbated.

215 77

Jack Raysbrook was a Hamilton hospital worker, member of

Local 167, and according to Lenihan, “one of the most advanced

thinkers of the bunch together ” ( Lenihan, 176 ). 78

Reports of Officers, 1959 NUPE Convention: 2, 7, 9.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 2, File 10]

R. Rintoul, Merger Report to the 1959 NUPE Convention: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28 I234 Vol. 2, File 10]

The September 1959 NUPE Convention heard an earfu

l from several members of the merger

committee on this debacle. Bill Buss, Tom Lewis and Jack Raysbrook

all gave quite pessimistic accounts of the condition of negotiations. Buss

reported that the Memo

randum of Understanding on

jurisdictions had failed and that “ none of the Unions involved are prepared to waive this legal power with obedience to hospitals. ” Both Buss and Lewis agr

eed that merger would not go ahead until the CLC made

decisions regarding NUPSE ’ s jurisdictional problems,

and that it would be “useless” to continue with

meetings until then. besides provoking indignation

were NUPSE’s four pages of constitutional amendments,

which for Raysbrook amounted to the impossible “ submergence of NUPE into NUPSE.. ”

Strangely,

Rintoul was quite more affirmative than his colleague

committee members, though on what basis is unclear.

He reported that while not much progress had been made in the last year on amalgamation, he was of the opinion that “ the prospects of early success in this matter are

somewhat better that they were at this time last

class. ”

The exsert struggles over jurisdiction did not s

eem to produce results which were worth the loss

of NUPE ’ s commodity will. By the goal of 1959, the CLC had not

altered its muddled conception of public sector

jurisdiction, nor had NUPSE agreed to limit itself to the areas delineated for it. NUPSE continued to pursue the affiliation of big groups of public sector workers, wherever they were to be found, and held onto an expansive vision of a union which would one day include

both direct and indirect provincial employees.

NUPSE ’ mho request for greater numbers and power at the

merger bargaining table was not particularly

successful either : though several large groups had

been added to their union, the time and resources

wasted in fighting other unions and the CLC, and the fa

ilure to organize new groups of workers as NUPE

was, kept NUPSE in second space. The continued ambiguity regarding OHEU ’ randomness position within populace sector
216 unionism besides fuelled a serious internal dispute triiodothyronine

hat was to eat up the NUPSE leadership’s time and energy

and delay build up on fusion until well into 1960. III.

OHEU and the Entrenchment of Autonomy

While NUPSE was struggling to expand its setting to compete more effectively with NUPE in the amalgamation talks, some of those already within its gas constant

anks clung to a more narrow identity and sought to continue

the structural arrangements which reflected this. As

discussed in Chapter 4, OHEU’s entry into NUPSE

was unconventional, particularly given the latter ’ sulfur centralist tendencies. This deviation from Little ’ s vision of a potent cardinal union was a hardheaded accommodati

on to the need to expand in order to survive the

creation of the CLC. indeed, rapid expansion had becom

e so important to NUPSE that little care was being

taken to amply integrate new groups into the

union, and arrangements were being made which served to

continue new groups ’ smell of peculiarity. OH

EU in particular was exempted by necessity from

NUPSE ’ s earlier centralist methods of forging a park one

dentity, and the issue of fu

ll geomorphologic and cultural integration was deferred indefinitel

y. However, this choice soon came back to haunt Little and other

NUPSE leaders, as it introduced an impor

tant element of disunity within the union, particularly over the

questions of identity and solidarity, reciprocal responsib

ilities and obligations, and the locus of decision-making

power. OHEU ’ s enduring sectionalism was rooted in its origins as a separate constitution outside of NUPSE and based on a narrow-minded understand of who constitu

ted one’s ‘fellow workers’, which led them to

advocate structural arrangements which would keep fi

nancial resources and decision-making at the local

tied. On a hardheaded horizontal surface, OHEU ’ s reserve

meant NUPSE had insufficient funds to pursue the organizing

and servicing of new members, putting them in a re

latively disadvantageous position vis-à-vis other unions

in the field and in a deficit position internally.

On a deeper level, however, OHEU’s approach challenged

217 80

Power Workers’ Union, 17.

attempts to build broader forms of solidarity and struct

ures which would reinforce a more expansive identity

( like the redistribution of resources and the creation of common governing institutions ). The baffling nature of OHEU ’ sulfur stead

within NUPSE was raised by NUPE, the CLC

leadership, CLC affiliates like the IBEW, and NUPSE locals

like Local 1, who felt resentful of a group with

privileges which they could not besides enjoy. In light

of these constant external and internal pressures,

NUPSE leaders had to walk a preferably ticket line, attempting to balance OHEU ’ s needs with the requirements of fusion. As a result, from the begin of thousand

ger talks in 1956, OHEU’s extensive autonomy was a

major obstacle, both to further NUPSE expansion and to amalgamation with NUPE. As previously discussed, the NUPE amalgamation committ

ee felt from the outset that OHEU influence on

talks was excessive, and the local ’ south imperativeness on thymine

he continuation of special status within the new

organization was unacceptable. Since NUPE distinctly gr

anted its own locals significant independence, it was

not the

fact

of autonomy but its

extent

which was at issue: the formal exemption of the OHEU from

decisions made by the national convention and executiv

e board meant they were not really “part of the

union ” and hence were a source of weakness. As we

have already seen, NUPE made it plain to the CLC

that it was “ unwilling to extend the like independence to

the OHEU, no matter what its size or power”, and

that something had to be done about OHEU if the fusion was to be concluded.

pressure from other sources besides motivated

NUPSE leaders to renegotiate their relationship with

OHEU. The issue was brought to NUPSE ’ s attention

in early 1957 through some pointed prodding from the

CLC. At a meeting with the CLC executive in Marc

h of that year, Little and Cummings were informed that

“ one other interested Union is soliciting the support of affiliate Organizations to say that one large section of our membership positively will not commit themselves to meet the needs of a National Organization. ” furthermore, this campaign was not only “ gaining sympat

hy among the affiliates” of the CLC, but also

218 81

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, April 27, 1957: 3.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 4]

OHEU, “Executive Board Report to Council of Chief Stewar

ds Concerning our Relationshi

p with NUPSE”, November 11, 1957:

1. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] “ causing considerable disagreement among certain of

our major Locals” who were “being urged and coached

by resistance representatives. ”

Although the instigating union is not directly named in Little’s typically

cryptic minutes, there is little question that the refe

rence here is to the IBEW, whose antagonism to OHEU’s

affiliation to NUPSE was well known throughout the parturiency

movement at the time. As evidence for the

claim that OHEU was not actually share of NUPSE, the IBEW pointed to their highly low per head. As such, the IBEW argued, OHEU wasn ’ t truly par

t of the labour movement, but rather engaged in a

‘ security racket ’ with NUPSE to avoid being part of a ‘ real ’ union and having to fulfil its responsibilities to their boyfriend workers. Although the initial a

rrangement between NUPSE and OHEU did indeed have the

former receiving no actual per capita tax from its fresh

affiliate, this situation changed with the creation of the

CLC. The modern federation set its per head at

7 cents (less than the CCL’s),and OHEU agreed the

remaining 3 cents could remain with NUPSE in

order to assist with organizing the unorganized.

however, the IBEW was pointing to a real reti

cence on the part of OHEU to engage itself in NUPSE and

the labor bowel movement. The strategy behind the IBEW ’ s attempts to provoke changes to the NUPSE-OHEU musical arrangement was most probable based on its hope that

OHEU’s trenchant commitment to autonomy would

prevent them from accepting the st

atus of a ‘regular’ local in NUPSE,

force them from the marriage, and make them vulnerable to a renewed drive to

capture at least a portion of them.

additionally, Toronto Hydro Local 1, alluded to in

Little’s report to the NUPSE Executive, was the

informant of much of the internal protest over OHEU ’ s particular condition. little attributed their criticisms to the IBEW ’ s cover determine over some Toronto Hydr

o members, but Local 1 had their own reasons to

begrudge OHEU. local 1, with a longstanding and dist

inct identity based on their original status but now

pushed from its once dominant put in part by

OHEU, saw itself as similarly self-servicing but

219 83

S. Little, letter to W. Dodge, January 14, 1959: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 3]; J.R. Walker, “Report of

Meeting on Jurisdiction and Unity ”, 4. 84

OHEU, Executive Board minutes, May 31, 1957: 11. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 8]

S. Little, “The Director’s Report”,

NUPSE News

1 (12): 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol 3, File 25]

unfairly denied the like fiscal and political autonom

y as the newcomers. Moreover, as previously

discussed, local anesthetic 1 besides held strong commitments to

broader organizing within the public utility sector,

evidenced by their cardinal function in the creation of CETU, NOCUEW and NUPSE. As a resultant role, the exemption of the larger and more affluent OHEU from the s

hared cost of organizing and supporting other public sector

workers rankled and was seen as selfish and unsolidaristi

c. Local 1’s discontent was to become evident at

the 1959 and 1960 NUPSE Conventions, where they were deoxythymidine monophosphate

he sponsors of several thinly veiled anti-OHEU

resolutions. little himself was besides dysphoric with the placement with OHEU, which was apparent in his approach with early locals. He always saw deoxythymidine monophosphate

he Agreement of Understanding as a short-term and

transitional accommodation to present realities wh

ich would eventually be eliminated through education of

the OHEU membership by its leaders.

OHEU was thus contradictory for Little: while in the abstract it fit

into his vision of a larger and more herculean union, in reality it impeded the devel

opment of a “truly national”

and centrally directed one, and did not produce the kind

of financial resources needed to fuel the campaign

for “ Western Development ” immediately afoot.

Little was also keenly aware that the dissension caused by

OHEU was standing in the way of consummating the fusion. In his 1959

NUPSE News

report, Little

diagnosed the bankruptcy to conclude talks as due to “ the in

ternal differences of opinion in both Unions and the

miss of joined purpose. ” He went on to suggest that

“unless we are prepared to solve these problems and

clear the decks for advancement toward Merger, we w

ill not only be dishonest with ourselves but remiss in

our duty and duty to the membership we represent. ”

These ‘internal problems’ no doubt referred

to the implications of OHEU ’ s especial condition in NU

PSE. The pressure of the requirements for merger was

220 86

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, April 27, 1957: 3.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 4]

OHEU, Executive Board minutes, May 31, 1957: 11, 12. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 8]

frankincense a useful guise for Little to pursue concessions

from OHEU which he desired but could not secure in

normal circumstances. therefore, while in 1956 the NUPSE fusion committee s

eemed content to defer to representatives of

the holocene yet knock-down summation to their organization, by

1957 a significant internal shift had taken place. At

the NUPSE NEB ’ s April 1957 meet, Little argued that

both the CLC’s ambivalence regarding provincial

workers ’ legal power and the relationship between NUPSE and OHEU were causing a crisis which required a unclutter resolution before the fall 1957 Convention. Littl

e and Cummings were to continue to meet with the

CLC over the jurisdictional interview, but more im

portantly, the NUPSE NEB passed a remarkable motion

which was to set off a chain of conflicts, negotiations, motions and counter-motions that would consume the Union until 1960. Little was directed to “ advise the OHEU Executive Board of these developments and solicit the removal of the written restrictions in

order to preserve our united Organization and to encourage

their full and unreserved digest in thymine

he over-all policy and program” of NUPSE.

This newspeak meant that

Little was to request the elimination of the

1955 Agreement of Understanding between OHEU and NUPSE,

and that OHEU was to become a local like any other

with the same political and financial obligations.

little ’ south discussions with the OHEU executive in former May 1957 argue that his initial willingness to find a solution that would both ‘ satisfy the critics ’

and retain the essence of t

he Agreement of Understanding

and the autonomy it afforded OHEU. The tax, as

Little saw it, was to revise the Agreement of

Understanding such that it would “ intelligibly indicate to all concerned that the OHEU was unmistakably separate and parcel of NUPSE and prepared to assume its respons

ibilities as part of a truly national union”, while

besides ensuring that the new arrangement would “ cost the OHEU no more than was presently being paid. ”

other words, Little hoped a cosmetic switch would be sufficient to ward off the CLC and IBEW and to remove the obstacles to amalgamation as NUPE saw them .
221 88

Ibid., 12.

For its part, the OHEU administrator, led by Kealey Cummings, was caught between a rock and a hard station on this issue. They recognized that, given t

heir perceptions of the OHEU membership’s attitudes,

they could neither increase their fiscal obbligato

ons to NUPSE nor withdraw from the Union and risk the

IBEW foray into that would inescapably result. however,

replacing the formal Agreem

ent of Understanding with a de facto

and unwritten arrangement would make them vul

nerable to any future centralizing moves on

NUPSE ’ second ( or the future CUPE ’ second ) part. Despite the

unpalatable choices offered by circumstances, the

OHEU executive committed to meeting with NUPSE repres

entatives to determine “the future position of this

Union. ”

As OHEU leaders began meeting amongst themselves to settle on a scheme for dealing with the NUPSE request, it was cursorily apparent that no substantial agreement existed within the local. Two chief positions emerged on OHEU ’ s future relationship to

NUPSE. There were those who agreed with Little and

argued that OHEU would have to make some concessions in the

form

of the arrangement set out in the

agreement of Understanding, while retaining the

substance

of the autonomy provided to them. Adherents

to this view proposed a switch to a per caput rebat

e system, in which OHEU would appear to be paying full

per capita but would regularly receive an sum in

lieu of servicing back from the NUPSE national office.

Kealey Cummings, as President of OHEU and one of

its main representatives on the NUPSE NEB, seems

to have been a main advocate of this more pragmatic po

ition. This was consistent with Cummings’ more

expansive sense of OHEU ’ south identity and function in the labor movement : for him, one in the labor movement was of primary importance, and one

ndependent unions were “freeloaders” which weakened that

movement. furthermore, OHEU in especial “ had a res

ponsibility to sacrifice as far as possible and at the

222 89

OHEU, Executive Board minutes, August 21,

1957: 10; December 16, 1957: 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7,

File 8 ] 90

The structural relationship between the tw

o bodies belied this argument. Clearly, NU

PSE was formally the superordinate entity

in the kinship, with OHEU representatives on its decision-making bodies, but not six

ce versa. Moreover, as OHEU formed a

powerful ( if not prevailing ) bloc in the contex

t of Convention, they could in some respects “tell NUPSE what to do” in a way that

NUPSE couldn ’ thymine given the Agreement of Understanding. 91

Interestingly, this was exactly the position of the IBEW

which fuelled so much of their criticism of the NUPSE-OHEU

arrangement. 92

K. Munnings, letter to K. Cummings and OHEU Executive Board,

October 15, 1957: 5. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234,

Vol. 7, File 11 ] 93

OHEU and NUPSE, “Agreement of Under

standing”, Appendix D, Coordinating Co

mmittee minutes, January 30-31, 1958: 16.

CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] lapp time provide leadership with the object of

realizing a strong national union for all public utility

workers. ”

Others argued that any alteration of the Ag

reement of Understanding would constitute an

impossible suppression of OHEU ’ s autonomy. The basis

for this view was a particular interpretation of

the entail of ‘ affiliation ’ : quite than havi

ng been submerged into NUPSE, OHEU had affiliated to

NUPSE as an equal, a partner in a mutually beneficial

arrangement that involved

neither telling the other

what to do.

As a result, NUPSE’s demand that the Ag

reement of Understanding be set aside was

bastard : as an actual ‘ fusion ’ had never taken place, its terms would still have to be negotiated with OHEU.

Consequently, NUPSE’s merger talks with NUPE,

which had precipitated this crisis in their

kinship with OHEU, had been wrongly entered into as the Union had not finished “ setting its own house in order through direct negotiations

with the OHEU Executive Board.”

A NUPE-NUPSE merger was

debatable because its terms would be binding on OHEU, an unacceptable consequence given their autonomous status : the Agreement

of Understanding clearly stated t

hat OHEU was “not committed to

accept or assume any undertaking other than those

over which they themselves have complete and

absolute restraint. ”

Therefore, not only did these OHEU parti

sans insist on the right to determine what

relationship they would have with NUPSE, they besides

insisted on a similar veto on the merger talks with

NUPE. Ken Munnings, OHEU ’ s First Vice-President, wa

s a primary spokesperson for these more hard-line

223 94

Murray later became OHEU second vice-president

between 1969-1971, and first vice-president in 1972.

K. Munnings, “The Responsibility is Yours!” 1.

OHEU, Executive Board minutes, November

11, 1957: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 8]. Consequently,

the comparable amendments designed to modi

fy the OHEU constitution and due to be

presented at the 1957 Council of Chief Stewards were dropped, as the union ’ s legal

advisor David Lewis indicated they “will not

do the job [they] wanted them to do” i

any font. ideas, as were James Hook and Bert Murray

of the OHEU’s Unity Committee. Munnings’ definition of

autonomy, “ the mighty to conduct our clientele in a washington

y which … the member decides we should” was

cover by a democratic rationale, but one in which thyroxine

he community of citizens with the legitimate right

to make decisions was restricted to the boundaries of OHEU.

What Little and OHEU leaders like

Cummings possibly did not anticipate was how refractory deoxythymidine monophosphate

hese sections of the OHEU would be in their

resistor to modifying the Agreement of

Understanding in even a superficial way.

In the context of these emerging differences

, the OHEU Constitution and By-Laws Committee

however drew up a series of constitu

tional amendments, for both NUPSE’s September 1957

conventionality and the annual OHEU Council of Chief Stew

ards meeting in November, designed to address

the criticism of the 1955 Agreem

ent of Understanding. These thr

ee amendments did not resolve the

difficulties one amendment was defeated, another

amended and approved, and a third carried without

amendment.

unable to reach a resolution through the NUPSE Conv

ention, the OHEU’s Executive Board went to

the 1957 Council of Chief Stewards seeking authorizat

ion to pursue a negotiated settlement directly with

the NUPSE leadership. A joint Coordinating Committee ( JCC ), consisting of OHEU and NUPSE representatives, was established to meet and discuss their kinship. The OHEU ’ s delegates were charged with the take after goals : “ to legally and functi

onally create the framework that will maintain all

existing membership rights for both parties ”, to secure

that OHEU would continue to service itself, decide

on the kind and level of service, set the count and di

sposition of their own staff “and bear all costs for

same ”, and to “ guarantee the democratic production of

a budget for the National Organization which will

224 97

Ibid., 4.

McNaughton was second vice-president in 1955, when

the group first joined NUPSE and became the OHEU.

OHEU Executive Board, letter to NUPSE Executive Board (first

draft), November 8, 1957: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28,

I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] 100

K. Cummings, Joint Coordination Committee meeting betw

een Local 1000 (OHEU) and NUPSE, minutes, January 21, 1958: 2.

CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] indicate the degree of duty for all parties toward the costs of organizing the unorganized in the populace employee field. ”

In other words, OHEU’s aim was to define and quantify in very precise terms its

obligations to early workers while retaining the

maximum amount of autonomy for itself. The OHEU’s

part of the JCC, consisting of William McNaughton

( as president ), Ken Munnings, and Ernie Sutton ( with Cummings

ex officio

), was mandated to report to the 1958 Council of Chief Stewards with

recommendations. One of the foremost acts of the JCC

was to request, along with the OHEU Executive Board,

that “ stream integrity talks with the National Union of

Public Employees be held in abeyance until our internal

problem is solved. ”

The better separate of 1958 was taken up with discussions of how the NUPSE fundamental law could be modified to achieve the delicate proportion between aut

onomy and unity sought by the OHEU Executive and

endorsed by the Council of Chief Stewards. It was conceded by all that, to achieve these ends, the agreement of Understanding would have to go, and

be replaced by changes to the NUPSE Constitution.

100

The OHEU fortune of the Committee took it upon itse

lf to review the OHEU-NUPSE relationship and draw

up recommendations to be considered by both executives. Francis Eady, CCF partisan and then OHEU ’ south promotion and Education Officer and editor program of the

OHEU News

, was seconded to advise the OHEU

Coordinating Committee. Many of the documents of

this committee bear the stamp of Eady’s particular

views on the structures and functions appropr

iate to a national union and its affiliates.

The Committee established several significant princi

ples which they felt would have to guide the

constituent changes, but which in no way would resolv

e the impasse in merger talks with NUPE that the

procedure was initiated to break. The Committee determi

ned that, first, given the different administrative and

225 101

OHEU, Coordinating Committee minutes, Januar

y 30-31, 1958: 5, 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11]

political requirements of a provincial employees

’ union, a national organization which encompassed both

municipal and peasant groups “ will not be able to hav

e a standard per capita for all chartered bodies”, as

had been decided at the December 1956 NUPSE-NUPE amalgamation

meeting. Second, as a result of the

impossibility of a standard per caput, a national st

ructure would have to be designed which guaranteed the

equal status of provincial unions and peasant federations of local unions. This structure “ would define equitable returns in service to all members. ” Provin

cial federations of local unions would have elected

officers and staff responsible for daily serv

icing, and would also be able to set up occupational

groups.

101

This regionalizing model would construct a parallel

provincial structure for local unions in order to

protect OHEU from future claims that it was receiv

ing a ‘special deal’ and attempts to demote it to ‘local’

status. OHEU was frankincense seeking to provide a legiti

mate basis for maintaining its distinct structure and

identity, with its different responsibilities to the national union, so as to undermine the criticisms or similar claims of other locals like local 1. Issues of fi

nancing and the relative responsibility of each level of the

union for organizing the unorganized were left aside for the consequence. however, it was precisely the question of money

– how much and controlled by whom – that would

widen the divisions inside OHEU. These differences we

re expressed in two versions of the relationship

between the still-hypothetical provinci

al federations and the national union, which were hashed out at the

OHEU Executive Board in August 1958. The majority, led by Cummings and Eady, argued that in order to minimize diversion from current arrangements and

increase the likelihood of NUPSE’s acceptance, per

caput should continue to be remitted immediately to NUPSE,

which would fund the provincial federations with a

grant. This position was expressed in

Memo A

. The minority, led by Ken Munnings and Ernie Sutton of the

JCC, argued for

Memo B

, which proposed that provincial federat

ions of local unions should collect dues

immediately from locals and remit per head to t

he national office. This independence would mirror the

226 102

E. Sutton and K. Munnings, “What About out Relationship to NU

PSE?” (Circular to OHEU Chief Stewards) n.d (fall 1958): 3.

CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 12 ] 103

NUPSE, 1958 Convention Proceedings: 14.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 3]

104

Ibid., 20.

decentralization implicit in in the kinship between provincial unions like OHEU and the national union, to be preserved at all costs. Sutton and Munnings feared that the majority ’ s proposed arrangement would be a “ stepping stone ” for OHEU “ down to equal condition

with a Provincial Public Service Federation.”

102

Expressing a chasten autonomist positi

on, the OHEU Executive Board approved

Memo A

lead Munnings, one of the main hard-line autonomy praseodymium

oponents, to resign from the JCC. Furthermore,

having spent therefore much time sorting out the solu

tion to the NUPSE-OHEU problem, the JCC found their

progress blocked by a schedule error. Bound by their

terms of reference to present their findings to the

November Council of Chief Stewards meet first, the JCC could not prepare constituent amendments for the 1958 NUPSE Convention being held in October, resulting in another

year

of delay.

Without OHEU ’ sulfur proposed solution, a vacuum therefore existed in the broad union. With no clear management from the national leadership on how to create

the internal conditions for renewed merger talks, the

1958 NUPSE Convention was thus given over to anti-OHEU resolutions which sought to eliminate their autonomy all in all, emanating

primarily from the Toronto Hydro lo

cal. Bill Baker and John Miller from

Toronto Hydro Local 1 crusade to have the especial

per capita provisions expunged from the Constitution,

arguing that the placement “ was det

rimental to the interests of t

he organization as a whole, and created

discord by permitting a local with full rights without broad responsibilities. ”

103

When this amendment was

defeated, Baker and Miller attempted to change the per c

apita tax for self-servicing locals to 50 cents

( alternatively of the 25-cent floor proposed by the NEB

and established by the Convention) and to transfer

OHEU ’ s servicing machinery to NUPSE.

104

While these initiatives also failed, the convention did signal to

the NEB that it wanted the Agreement of Understanding eliminated

and merger consummated. Also

significant were the lessons the leadership lambert

earned about the Convention process and who should be

227 105

OHEU Joint Coordinating Committee, “Progress Report to Council of Chief Stewards”, 1958: 4, 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG

28, I234, Vol. 7, File 12 ] 106

Ibid., 5-6.

permitted to take the precede. The absence of alternatives

from the leadership was polarizing, and allowing the

locals their point was seen as a ‘ tactical error ’. ‘ Democracy ’ could be fractious and inconvenient if not properly managed by the central leadership. Mo

reover, OHEU leaders learned the importance of

preventing the issue of their per capita tax from ever reaching the conventionality floor again. The Council of Chief Stewards a calendar month late was no less acrimonious. Since September, Munnings and Sutton had been working to mobilize mem

bers against the JCC’s recommendations for the

council of Chief Stewards meeting. Their criti

que was both substantive and

procedural: the potential

implications of “ Memo A ” for OHEU ’ s autonomy

were problematic, OHEU members were inadequately

informed of the negotiations process, and the OHEU Execut

ive Board taken insufficient time to consider the

options. Both autonomy and democratic summons were at emergence here. Compounding the furor was the watering down of t

he principles deemed central to resolving the

OHEU-NUPSE amalgamation in the Joint Coordinating Commi

ttee’s final report to the CCS, namely structures

which guaranteed adequate servicing, and no standard per deoxycytidine monophosphate

apita. A key change was the complete deletion of

the provincial federations marriage proposal,

preventing its consideration by the Chief Stewards. This concrete

proposal, over which there had been so much contro

versy, was replaced by Eady, Little and McNaughton

in their JCC report with a obscure commitment to loca

l autonomy and the formation of a joint sub-committee

to investigate a standard per caput, besides a key about-face of the earlier OHEU status.

105

Instead of making

substantive suggestions, the composition emphasized the “ likel

y alternatives” faced by OHEU if they did not

accept these indefinite promises and returned to an “ iso

lationist position”: “raiding from many directions”,

the end of aid from and access to CLC servic

es, and the weakening of its bargaining position with

the Hydro Commission.

106

In other words, Little and Eady were attempting to manage the OHEU

228 107

OHEU Joint Coordinating Committee, mi

nutes of meeting between Local 1000 (OHE

U) and NUPSE, November 7, 1958: 2.

CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 12 ] 108

“Our Relationship with NUPSE”,

OHEU News

3(2), January 1959: 4. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 3]

109

OHEU and NUPSE, “Agreement

of Understanding”, 16.

110

K. Cummings, K. Munnings and C. Gillies, letter to C. Jodoin,

November 26, 1958: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234,

Vol. 7, File 3 ] membership with aroused appeals indeed as to obtain thyroxine

heir desired result: the approval of a full merger with

NUPSE. OHEU ’ s ‘ fantan ’ was offended by these stra

tagems, and Munnings and Sutton’s critique of the

JCC ’ randomness oeuvre received support in the context of a

democratic backlash against leadership manipulation.

Munnings and Sutton opposed the deletion of the provincial

federations proposal from consideration by the

CCS, even though it had been deemed the proper

subject of NUPE-NUPSE merger talks.

107

importantly, however, the Chief Stewards rejected the substitution of frighten tactics for concrete solutions and rational debate, and stated that, from the report card o

ffered, it could not determine what approach was

actually being taken on the issue of OHEU-NUPSE integrity.

108

The CCS thus terminated the JCC and

replaced it with a reconstituted, autonomous, and

even more autonomist ‘Unity Committee’, made up of

Brothers Bert Murray ( as president ), James Hook

and William McNaughton, whose mandate was to negotiate

directly with the Canadian Labour Congress. The Unity Committee ’ s mandate was premised on M

unnings’ idea that the OHEU was an “affiliate”

preferably than a local of NUPSE, and

therefore retained the right to

approach the CLC without going through

the national office. This interpretation was no

invention: the Agreement

of Understanding did indeed

commit to place the union “ within the CLC on a

full and equal status with any affiliated group”,

109

hardheaded musical arrangement whose contr

adictory implications were now coming to the fore. The OHEU

executive therefore sought lead meetings with President

Jodoin “to determine the CLC’s firm position … [on the

legal power of ] Provincial Unions of Di

rect and Indirect Governmental Employees.”

110

As pointed out earlier,

OHEU intelligibly wanted to determine whether furt

her negotiations with NUPSE would be worthwhile,

229 111

Ibid.

112

S. Little, letter to K. Cummings, December 12, 1958: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 3]

113

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes,

February 6, 1959: 4. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 5]

specially if they were to be defined out of its ju

risdiction in a few years anyway. The CCS had demanded

these meetings and an answer to the question of jurisd

iction before any further merger talks with NUPSE,

let alone NUPE. The OHEU ’ south direct appeal to the CLC pushed its relationship with NUPSE to the brink, for it potently and publicly raised the motion of which body

was superordinate. NUPSE’s NEB was driven to

take a much harder line with OHEU than they had over

the past year of frustrating talks, and its response

was swift and forceful : both the approach to the CLC and the give voice used in OHEU ’ south request were deemed wholly unacceptable. The OHEU was illegitimately

circumventing the national office to gain direct

access to the CLC, and admitting in writing that

it had never “completely” merged with NUPSE.

111

In his

response to Cummings, Little emphasized the “ good

ramifications” for NUPSE’

s “[m]erger talks with

NUPE, our Manitoba Hydro political campaign and the Congr

ess attitude with regard to our Saskatchewan

developments ”, and worried that the letter could further l

egitimize IBEW raiding efforts, since “they will

surely home out of proportion emphas

is on the references made therein.”

112

This “indiscretion” had

bring things to “ a agile boil ”, and the NUPSE NEB did not fail to let the CLC know how they felt.

113

batch of letters and telegrams insisted that the CLC deny OHEU ’ randomness request for a meet. Of course, the return under competition was the

precise relationship between the two bodies, and

little ’ south attack to declare by decree

that OHEU was subordinate to NUPSE came to no avail. OHEU’s resolute

imperativeness on direct access to the CLC and the inapplic

ability of the NUPSE Constitution so frustrated the

NUPSE Executive that at its Febr

uary 1959 meeting they decided the ti

me for a negotiated settlement of

the line between autonomy and integrity was over. As of

March 1959, the Board was unilaterally terminating

230 114

Ibid., 5.

115

K. Cummings, letter to J. Clark, March 19, 1959: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 3]

116

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, April 24, 1959: 2.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 5]

the Agreement of Understanding and, in a

very purposeful change of language, declaring

Local 1000

local of NUPSE in accord with their constitution.

114

In the inadequate term, this decision produced a some

what more conciliatory attitude on OHEU’s part.

Shifting their position and implicitly acquiescing to

NUPSE’s view of their appropriate status, Cummings

asked NUPSE to request a meet with CLC repr

esentatives, an option proposed by Jodoin himself.

interestingly, OHEU ’ s approach mirrored NUPSE ’ second attitude in talks with NUPE, namely that “ the problem of future jurisdiction of CUPE must first be decided ” before a fusion could be consummated.

115

Though wary

of carrying on double negotiations regarding CUPE, NUPSE agreed to discuss the matter and set aside the deadline for end point of the Agreement of U

nderstanding, given the seeming willingness of OHEU

representatives “ to obtain from metric ton

heir membership a more acceptable method of solving our differences.”

116

however, the CLC-sponsored meet was an exercise

in further frustration. The two groups were

there with clearly different purposes, OHEU to discu

ss only the question of jurisdiction, NUPSE to explore

methods for eliminating the Agreement of Underst

anding. After a detailed explanation by CLC Vice-

President William Dodge, in which he

admitted that the CLC’s policy on t

he public utility sector was unclear,

OHEU was deemed part of NUPSE and consequently would be

part of CUPE. Moreover, Dodge indicated that

OHEU ’ sulfur passing from NUPSE would not be supported by

the CLC, as “the Congress did not consider

itself to be an underground dragoon by which groups may

separate themselves from units to which they

belong. ” Given this definitive commitment by the CLC fifty

eadership regarding OHEU’s stat

us (if not that of its

sector ), one would have expected the logjam had been

loosened. This was not so, however. Having had

their queries addressed, OHEU representatives were

absolutely unwilling to discuss possible methods for

eliminating the Agreement of

Understanding. Repeated questions by Dodge about the nature of OHEU’s

231 117

J.R. Walker, “Report of Meeting on Jurisdiction and Unity”, 3, 5.

118

R. Rintoul, “Brief Resume of Merger Meeting,” 1-3.

119

J.R. Walker, “Report of Meeti

ng on Jurisdiction and Unity”, 4-5.

120

OHEU, Executive Board minutes, August 21, 1957: 10. CUPE

Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 8]

121

H. Murray, E. Hook and W. McNaughton, “OHEU Unity Committee

Report to the Council of Chief Stewards”, October 1959: 3-

4. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 3 ] fears, the principles they wanted

recognized, and the compromises they might be willing to make were met

by stonewalling : the delegating invoked their democrati

c accountability to their membership, insisting that

they “ must follow rigid lines of procedure and at

this meeting did not have the authority to agree to

anything. ”

117

NUPSE leaders were hotly opposed to this approach, even though they themselves would

insist on the same jurisdictional clearness, and then refuse

to negotiate details, a mere four days later at the

NUPE-NUPSE amalgamation meet.

118

To up the ante, OHEU went on to indicate

that jurisdiction and autonomy were not its only

concerns : although they would not discuss the details

, they wanted a more thorough revision of the NUPSE

united states constitution as a condition of a renewed kinship.

119

OHEU’s sudden shift to a broader critique of

NUPSE ’ s structures pointed to underlying differences orange group

er union function and its relationship to structure,

until nowadays masked by the interrogate of autonomy and the des

ire to preserve the in

tegrity of a separate

residential district. OHEU ’ s reserve to become more

fully integrated into NUPSE was also informed by

disagreements over how union functions should be carr

ied out and by whom. In contrast to NUPSE’s

practice, Munnings claimed that OHEU “ firm believed

in retaining control in elected officers and not in

staff employees. ”

120

The relative status of NUPSE’s full-time National Director and part-time National

President was seen by the Unity Committee as particu

larly problematic and “contrary to one of the basic

principles of organization. ” The National Director

was both an employee and an officer of the union with the

veracious to vote at both the National Executive Board

and Council, while the National President’s powers were

developing and ill-defined, resulting in a staff-led union.

121

OHEU’s distrust of powerful staff was

reflected in their fear of losing their assets

and servicing machinery to an unaccountable, nationally-

232 122

J.R. Walker, “Report of NUPSE-OHEU Meeti

ng”, October 6, 1959: 1-2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 5]

123

Ibid., 2.

124

Power Workers’ Union, 22.

125

J. Lee, “Referendum to be held on remaining in NUPSE”,

OHEU News

, 4 (4), April 1960: 1, 4. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28,

I234, Vol. 3, File 26 ] 126

J.R. Walker, “Report of NUPSE-OHEU Meeting”, 3-4.

127

K. Cummings, letter to S. Little, June 8, 1959: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 4]

appointed administrator or trustee shoul

d they ever decide to leave NUPSE.

122

Of course, OHEU’s priority

remained the flat and summons of setting per capita

, fearing that a rebate system would result in

uncontrollable increases to NUPSE ’ south dowry. Although this level would be set democratically by the NUPSE Convention, some OHEU delegates could not

accept that they would no longer be able to

determine unilaterally the sum costs of thyroxine

heir membership in the labour movement.

123

In negotiations with the NUPSE administrator duri

ng the fall of 1959, OHEU’s Unity Committee

secured a rebate of $ 1.05 to support OHEU ’ s cont

inued self-servicing and NUPSE’s agreement to respect

the autonomy of OHEU and its constitution.

124

These commitments were deemed insufficient, however,

since “ NUPSE has failed to give the OHEU a wri

tten commitment guaranteeing [their] continued existence

as a self-servicing local ” under NUPSE and a future CUPE “ without the possibility of making unacceptable dues increases necessary. ” furthermore, the Committ

ee sought but did not achieve an agreement allowing

the withdrawal of OHEU if the terms of

merger between NUPE and NUPSE were unacceptable.

125

Though

NUPSE verbally agreed to these terms and promised to

fight for them in the NUPSE-NUPE merger talks,

they could not guarantee the consequence given that

they could neither control NUPE nor force upon it

arrangements negotiated with OHEU.

126

As OHEU ’ s demands on the integrity march mounted in 1959, a mutually satisfactory solution seemed far and promote away. Tensions were exacerbated by OHEU ’ s attempts to revise the

CUPE

united states constitution, claiming this was merely a hardheaded meet

hod of “eliminating duplication of effort” by devising an

arrangement which could be carried over into the newly union.

127

However, the political implications of this

233 128

W. Dodge, letter to K. Cummings, May 19, 1959: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 4]

129

Power Workers’ Union, 22.

130

J. Lee, “Referendum to be held on remaining in NUPSE”, 1.

It is around this time, between the NUPSE Convention in Fall

1959 and February 1960, that Francis Eady

‘changed sides’ and became part of NUPSE’s nat

ional staff as Little’s Executive

assistant. In his report on the 1959 Convention, Hook ( of the OH

EU Unity Committee) wrote that “at the National Board Meeting

anterior to Convention, the final detail on deoxythymidine monophosphate

he agenda concerned the transfer of Eady to t

he National payroll” at which time Cummings

“ blew his phellem, having not been previously contacted – about

a deal between Eady and Little.”

(E.J. Hook, “NUPSE Convention

London 1959 ” ( draft ), December 1, 1959. CUPE Fonds

[NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 5]). Eady’s reasons for moving to the

national function are indecipherable, but may have had to do with the

way that OHEU was obstructing the development of a more

centralized union which he, as we will late see, supported. He

was replaced by Eady’s friend

and fellow CCFer, then-IWA staffe

John A. Lee, who was belated to become a sociol

ogy professor of at University of Toronto.

motion were much larger, as OHEU was asserting itse

lf as the central author of the merger with NUPE and

the most crucial constituency to be satisfied. This

presumption went too far: Dodge of the CLC was “at a

personnel casualty ” and admonished them for assuming that the oeuvre

ing out of a merger with NUPSE would authorize

them to usurp NUPSE ’ south rights and work on the fundamental law for an organization not however in universe.

128

After yet another summer and fall of blind alley, the NUPSE leadership moved the matter back into the overt at the 1959 Convention, where, on a gesture francium

om the Executive, the delegates, many of whom

continued to be resentful about OHEU ’ mho condition and exponent

to hold up merger negotiations with NUPE, voted

to end the Agreement of Understanding between NUPSE and OH

EU as of April 14, 1960. From that date,

OHEU was expected to pay NUPSE ’ s wax per head

(now at $1.30) and be subject to the national

constitution if it wished to remain in the union and the CLC.

129

OHEU’s Unity Committee contended that, if

subject to the rulings of the national convention, “ t

he OHEU would no longer retain its autonomy in the strict

feel of the son. ”

130

In reply to NUPSE ’ sulfur renewed unilateral attempts

to place OHEU under its constitution, OHEU’s

council of Chief Stewards held an emergency meeti

ng in March of 1960. OHEU’s legal counsel, CCF

National Secretary and future NDP drawing card David Lewis

, supported the Unity Committee’s claim that they

were under no duty to remain in NUPSE if thyroxine

he terms of the merger agreement were unilaterally

changed by NUPSE. Lewis argued that since “ the OHEU

is not a chartered local created by NUPSE” and

“ existed ahead in its own proper ”, the “ agreem

ent between NUPSE and the OHEU [is] a contract

234 131

J. Lee, “Referendum to be held on remaining in NUPSE”, 1, 4.

132

Power Workers’ Union, 22. It is difficult to see a mer

ger after five years of ‘cour

tship’ as a ‘shotgun wedding’.

133

John Alan Lee,

Love’s Gay Fool: Autobiography of John Alan Lee

, online at http://www.johnalanlee.ca/chapters/

chapter_11.htm ( viewed January 28, 2005 ). 134

Power Workers’ Union, 22.

between partners, rather than the par

ent-child relationship applicable where the National Union has created

and chartered a Local. ” Bolstered by this legal

reading of their status, the Unity Committee now

uniquely favoured finding a way out of NUPSE.

The Committee thus recommended to the Council of

headman Stewards that the OHEU executive advise NUPSE thyroxine

hat they would cease to pay per capita after April

14, 1960. This resolving power was defeated in favor of

putting the matter to the membership without a

recommendation by the Council of Chief Stewards.

131

Those sympathetic to the Unity Committee ’ s situate

ion likely assumed that the OHEU membership

would reemphasize its fabled commitment to absolute

autonomy, and thus this would be reinforced by the

Unity Committee ’ s vigorous and nasty campaign against NUPSE in which Little, Eady and Cummings were depicted as forcing a shotgun wedding on unintentional and unwilling OHEU members.

132

However, John Lee,

the OHEU ’ s newfangled Education and Publicity Officer, was

charged by the local’s leadership with keeping the

union in NUPSE and the labor movement. obviously, Lee ’ second emphasis on how OHEU would hush retain significant autonomy, even in a nearer relationship with NUPSE, worked.

133

Contrary to the expectations of

the Unity Committee, in May 1960 OHEU ’ s membership voted 68 % in favor of remaining in NUPSE “ under the terms of the National C

onstitution and associated documents.”

134

This vote led NUPSE and

OHEU to sign a Memo on Per Capita Allowance in June 1960, setting up a rebate system which would prevent OHEU ’ s net income per capita flush from ever being

subject to the National Convention’s decision-making

power. This resolution removed the primary coil obstacle

to the merger with NUPE over the previous four

years. A not-overwhelming majority of OHEU had re

cognized that it would no longer be able to maintain

235 complete independence within the future CUPE. however, the telephone line between autonomy and one was to be constantly renegotiated in the new organization. IV.

Conclusion

intelligibly, by 1960, little headroom had been made in the me

rger process. A central barrier was the

intractability of disputes over how democra

cy would be understood and institutionalized in any new

structure. These tensions existed both between

NUPE and NUPSE, and within the two unions as well.

These internal tensions, the products of the particula

r path to unification taken by each parent union in the

years previous, meant that integrity in the canadian public house

lic sector would be nowhere near as easy to achieve

as primitively thought. The two views of democracy at play here were each persuasive in their own ways, but besides possessed internal contradictory logi

cs that made it difficult to ident

ity clearly which was in the best

interests of members. The entreaty to broader working

class interests was often twinned with a claim that

leaders knew best what members needed and should theref

ore be left to figure out how best to achieve

that. however, the ‘ democratic logic ’ of majori

ty rule via Convention could also produce moves to

overwhelm recalcitrant minorities and copper

t them out of representation. In

that sense, elite control over the

fusion process could be seen as an undemocratic proc

ess seeking a more democratic outcome than that

which could be produced by members themselves. The appeal to local autonomy besides possessed contradictions, particularly when practised by large minorities whose decisions would have a major impact

on others outside their ‘democratic community’. The

insistence on absolute control over all decisions affe

cting a particular group could easily be transmuted into

a claim for limited exemption from the obligations

binding others in the organization. As such, local

autonomy in the context of inner ability imbalances c

ould produce privileges not available to others: the

236 proper to veto, the right to design structures that

others would have to live with, and the right to negotiate

directly with leaders preferably than be bound by the de

liberations of Conventions. This would magnify

inequalities within the arrangement. As well, ‘ democracy ’, variously defined, was used as

a strategic tool by leaders in their battles with

each early. While the commitment to majority rule may have been genuine, it was besides convenient to refer to ‘ the will of the membership ’ – whether as the loca

l union or the Convention – to legitimate actions in

disputes more intelligibly linked to the personal power

of particular leaders. ‘T

he membership’, understood as

a static and given datum, could be used to put pressu

re to move forward with unification – and relinquish

sectionalist attachments – or to block the fusion

process. This manoeuvring highlighted the stakes for

leaders in the process, and made it more unmanageable to

determine what kind of resolution would best serve

public sector workers. In this discipline of conflicting visions, national and

local organizations, and leaders, some way to create

oneness and reach a consensus about how to instit

utionalize democracy was needed. The route chosen,

however, was not a product of a ‘ intellectual ’ choice

about what model of democracy would best serve the

membership, nor was it a resolution crafted and unila

terally imposed by leadership. Rather, the terms of

fusion would be based on the interaction between the

personal desires of national and local leaders, the

proportional commitment of these leaders to their respec

tive visions of a national union, and the strength of

autonomist segments of each coupling ’ s membership .
237 1

NUPE Educational Services, “The Origin and Growth of the National Union of Public

Employees”, October 1958: 2. CUPE Fonds

[ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 10 ] 2

K. Cummings, Merger Report – NUPSE-NUPE

– to OHEU Executive Board, Decem

ber 12, 1957: 4. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc.

MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 11 ] 3

NUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 22-23, 1958: 3.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 6]; R.

Rintoul, National Director ’ s General R

eport, NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 24.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234,

Vol. 2, File 14 ] chapter 6 : The Merger Process and Union Democracy II : Establishing CUPE, 1960-1963 While NUPSE was getting its family in holy order, NUPE ’ s own inner processes were producing some pressures that would come to bear heavily on t

he merger process. The years between 1955 and 1960

were ones of incredible growth for NUPE : in that

time, both membership and the number of locals more

than doubled.

This expansion was fuelled by the gradual affiliation of between 30 to 50 TLC public

employee locals who had not joined NUPE immediat

ely upon its formation in 1955, but who had either

overcome their agnosticism or realized that triiodothyronine

he TLC would soon cease to service independent public

employee locals when there was a home union to

do the job. Indeed, once the CLC was formed, the

directly chartered locals were soon parcelled

out to NUPE and NUPSE, adding more members and locals

to service.

Finally, and despite their limited numbers of

field representatives, NUPE was organizing new

locals at a rapid pace, particularly in the Prairies

and the Maritimes. On the face of it, NUPE appeared to

be a healthy union. however, the pressures of growth promptly led to

demands for increased staff. NUPE’s initial staff –

a full-time National Director and a secretary – were

soon joined by field representatives in 1957, 1958 and

1960, bringing their count to thirteen.

Additionally, a full-time researcher, Gil Levine, had been brought

on staff in 1956, the beginnings of specialization in rhenium

sponse to the effects of the legalization of labour

relations. It was believed, by Rintoul in particular, that farther specialization would be needed, given growing complexities of “ Labour Law, labor prac

tices and the development of varying and complicated

238 4

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure Submitted by the National Director at the Request of the National

Executive Board ”, National Union of Public

Employees, April 1960: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 9 ] 5

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 10-12.

methods of corporate dicker under the provincial tug relations boards. ”

In other words, important

changes in the union ’ s internal functions were occurring both as a reaction to expansion and as a leave of the external pressures of the modern british labour party relations regimen. Servicing, its type, choice, handiness, cost,

and, most importantly, t

he method of its delivery

became the shape in which these pressures were express

ed. Servicing was a central political issue in NUPE

for several reasons. As both Lenihan and some NUPE chromium

itics had pointed out, many of the former TLC

locals were unions in name only. additionally, many

locals were burdened with legacies of quiescence and

employer domination not uncommon in the municipal

field. Finally, newly organized locals had no

know in the labor movement. All of these si

tuations required that me

mbers and potential leaders be

educated in the ‘ ways of unionism ’ as defined by thyroxine

he national union and its representatives. In the

meanwhile, ‘ expert ’ staff were needed to carry out

a legion of important functions while simultaneously

educating locals to take over their own affairs.

In the short run, the slow process of education led to heavy

demands on the limited numbers of servicing staff. Mo

reover, the demands of servicing limited the time

which reps could spend extending organization to new

groups. While there was a consensus that more

servicing was needed, the wonder of how it should be

delivered was a fractious one. Three different and

frequently conflicting models were in fact in function in

NUPE, each with its proponents and beneficiaries. Different

groups in the union consequently had immediate material

stakes in the precise balance that was struck

between integrity and autonomy. As a leave, the union was plagued by the interview of how to foster identification with a broader set of interests and structures without compulsion or excessive restrictions on local control. The perseverance of mutually single

models of servicing led to a three-year period of open

239 conflict within the coupling over the kind of union structure which would suit ‘ stream realities ’ as different people saw them. While everyone attributed the stand in amalgamation tantalum

lks to the other side, there was much at stake

for each union ’ randomness leaders in a blend organization.

Leaders stalled not only because of principled stands

on what kind of union would be best for the members ; t

hey also wanted to ensure that they would occupy

an important place in the post-merger organi

zation. Leaders on both sides pursued internal

transformations so as to shore up their situation in thymine

he merger talks, and waited until such time as they felt

the stars were lining up in their favor. National and

local leaders were working hard to avoid situations in

which they would have to take orders, a goal which

informed what was put forward as principled stands on

what constituted democratic or effective unionism.

Each union had a leader that, at base, believed the

most effective unionism would feature him at the clear. however, considerations of one and the personalities on both sides would make it impossible field-grade officer

r everyone to be a position of control. Concluding

the amalgamation would require leaders to make some tr

ade-offs, to decide whether personal power or public

sector integrity was more significant. These concerns about personal power intertwi

ned with broader questions about NUPE’s internal

structures, and provoked some serious soul-search

ing within the union. NUPE’s continued success at

adding raw groups to its ranks brought to the bow thousand

any of the issues which had been deferred in order to

create a formal national administration in 1955. The conf

licting imperatives of rapid membership growth, on

the one hand, and local and provincial responsibilities for servicing on the early, set up a self-reinforcing bicycle of autonomy. As those like Rintoul who adv

ocated national servicing found themselves unable to

convert adequate local leaders to agree to per capita

increases, the gaps continued to be filled by local

business agents, zone councils and peasant divisions. The development of local service capacity, particularly by the older locals, thus placed furt

her downward pressure on national revenues, as groups

240 6

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 2.

NUPE, 1959 Convention Proceedings.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 2, File 10]

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 76.

became accustomed to having conduct master over services and began to demand per caput rebates in stead of service. Compounding these problems was the fact

that affiliation to intermediate bodies – which had

taken on important functions – continued to be voluntar

y, creating additional layers of the union’s structure

seeking money from the national coupling. This dynamic

worked to institutionalize the already powerful bases

for local autonomy, divided the coupling between ‘ centralizer

s’, ‘regionalizers’ and ‘autonomists’, and led to a

series of inflame conventionality debates about the nature of

mutual obligation in the new union and the kind of

union structure needed as a result. How these conflicts were resolved would besides shape the fusion terms and the organization that would resu

lt from it in powerful ways.

NUPE Does Some Soul Searching

The majority of NUPE ’ mho locals continued to be dom

inated by autonomists. For these individuals, it

was an absolute and intact principle “ that the

autonomy of the local union should be preserved.”

Many

of these locals wished to maximize their control over resources, bargaining and service. local 43, Toronto external municipal workers, was luminary

in this camp, repeatedly forwarding demands and

convention resolutions along with its sister local 79 of

inside civic workers, advocating per capita rebates

for locals like them which employed full-time business agents.

Autonomists also opposed the mandatory

affiliation of locals to district councils and provincial

divisions, claiming that any attempt of convention “to

order to local unions ” would be resisted.

There were, of course, variations

within this position, particularly

between large locals who could afford to contemplate

self-servicing, and smaller locals without resources

who had to depend on national services but who had little extra for affiliations. There were besides those whose belief “ that affiliation should be voluntary

and should be achieved by education rather than by

241 9

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 77.

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 4, 5.

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 77.

compulsion ” was rooted not in a rejecti

on of the utility or rightful role of other levels of the union. Rather, as

Harley Horne of Calgary ’ s local 8 argued, locals

should be encouraged to affiliate and identify with the

broader structures of the union, but

through political and educational work amongst the membership rather

than by decree from convention or the administrator board.

In the minority, but emerging as a vocal group,

were centralizers and regionalizers. These groups

advocated the tone of the more cardinal struct

ures of the union for both pragmatic and ideological

reasons. On the practical side, district councils and praseodymium

ovincial divisions were seen as important institutions

given the ‘ contemporary realities ’ of public sector collective bargaini

ng and labour law. District councils

were likely mechanisms for resisting employers ’ legal profession

gaining tactics, such as playing locals off against

each other and creating settlement patterns with the weakes

t local in a given region. District councils could

minimize the injury that locals could do and often

did one another when their actions were uncoordinated.

similarly, provincial divisions had an important political function in countering the increasingly coordinated efforts of employers to secure labor legislation restricting the rights of public sector workers.

In other

words, for both centralizers and regionalizers, interm

ediate bodies were the institutional expressions of

public sector workers ’ broader interests and the means

through which they could be acted upon. As such,

these bodies required sufficient resource

s and support from all the union’s locals.

Given the universe of these common supra-local

interests, new moral imperatives were implied.

Since these bodies were not functionless “ clubs ”,

but had a definite and important

function in the marriage from which everyone would benefit, volunteer affiliation was

at odds with the basic principles underlying local

unions ’ own organizational success : that of the Rand

Formula and of majority rule. Centralizers and

regionalizers therefore insisted that “ all who benefit from [ t

hese bodies’] activities should be obliged to pay for

242 12

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 3.

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 77.

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 16.

their operation and to abide by their decisions. ”

Those who resisted fulfilling these obligations were

considered ‘ freeloaders ’ who were not in full committed

to the labour movement. One “could not be in the

trade union apparent motion with merely our bad toe, we had to come in with both feet. ”

Mandatory affiliation was

therefore a question of democratic province, reciprocal obli

gation and self-discipline in the service of unity as

well as one of hardheaded necessity. however, centralizers and regionalizers parted ways ov

er the precise role of district councils and

provincial divisions, and in detail whether they

should be involved in servicing. This conflict was

exemplified by the debate over the british Columb

ia servicing system set up in the TLC days, and

administered by the provincial part and the prov

incial union of hospital workers, Local 180. For

regionalizers, provincial control over servicing made sense both as a way to pool resources and to remain “ closer ” to the members thus as to better identify,

understand and respond to their particular servicing needs.

As such, the $ 13,000 annual grant from the national union in stead of extra national staff representatives and divided between the BC Division and Local 180

was seen as perfectly reasonable.

For centralizers like Rintoul, however, provinci

ally-controlled and -administered servicing was

deficient for both practical and political reasons.

Servicing grants promoted isolation and inequality

between locals, detracted from oneness, were more costly

and resulted in a lower quality of service. In the

absence of National staff, Rintoul argued, the huge milliampere

jority of BC locals and district councils “never

bothered to let [ the BC Division ] know how they were

doing, or what their final result [in collective

bargaining ] was. In particular instances, [ the BC Di

vision Secretary] had to buy their local area newspapers

to read what their settlements were. ” furthermore, Ri

ntoul pointed out, the logic of self-servicing disregarded

the necessitate for uniform or equal national servicing and bomber

tituted the principle that “the strong look after

243 15

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 17-18.

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 6.

NUPE, 1959 Convention Proceedings: 8.

themselves and … the National Union attend [ second ] after the weak. ” Such a system was besides expensive : bc locals were paying twice for servicing, once thr

ough their National per capita tax, and again through a

higher per head going to the BC Division. Despite

the higher price tag, centra

lizers argued that the actual

servicing received was of lower quality as it wa

s provided by part-time, narrowly focussed non-experts

quite than full-time experts with broader

knowledge of the sectors and the province.

Finally, the rebate

system generated resentment and a “ me

too” mentality amongst some lik

e Local 43, who argued that “if

grants were being given out, [ the local ] would want its share. ”

These different views pointed to the deep conflicts

over NUPE’s structure. In many instances,

potent identifications existed with eac

h level of the union, loyalties which

did not constantly reflect the realities of labour-management relations or the nature of the post-war legal regimen

. Regardless of the kind of union

structure unlike actors desired, the fact was that

locals were no longer self-contained units. The mutual

shock of their decisions was now more obvious, and a lack of coordination or awareness of the interests of early workers could cause serious internal

conflicts and constitute a serious barrier to further

organizational integrity. furthermore, given that some groups

were not contributing to the cost of efforts from

which they would benefit, like attempts to change restrictive peasant labor laws, there were geomorphologic bases for resentment. These conflicts took the form of a major st

ructural debate at NUPE’s 1959 convention, at which

autonomists, regionalizers and centralizers all proposed so

lutions to these issues. In particular, delegates

debated both the doubt of mandate affiliation and of per caput rebates to “ self-servicing ” locals with full-time business agents. however, neither provis

ion was adopted, with the potential merger with NUPSE

used as a rationale for avoiding major structural changes which might be untie soon enough anyhow.

244 18

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 1.

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 2.

This default adoption of the condition quo left NUPE in

limbo and forced the NEB to pursue ad hoc solutions

over the future two years. In the face of the 1959 Convention ’ s failure to

adopt measures definitively favouring one of the

models present in the union, the NUPE NEB was left to craft a solution to the National Union ’ s miss of “ proper rules, or even principles ” to govern the “ func

tions of the Field Representatives, … the authority of

the local unions and provincial divisions, and their

responsibilities to the Labour Movement in general and

the National Union in particular. ”

In early 1960, the NEB thus asked Rintoul to prepare a series of

proposals which would address these concerns. Ri

ntoul’s report was undeniably in favour of greater

centralization and professionalization. While hello

s analysis of the NUPE structure accepted the general

authenticity of local autonomy,

Rintoul argued that the

extent

of local autonomy in NUPE, as evidenced in

voluntary affiliation to marriage bodies, decrepit central mastermind

ion of staff, and grants in lieu of national servicing,

was damaging to the union on both democratic and practical grounds. The solution to these problems was to strengthen the capacity of the National

Office and to increase reliance on expert staff.

Rintoul identified NUPE ’ mho cardinal dilemma as the contradiction between

two important operational

principles. On the one pass, there was a consensus

that “there should be no unnecessary infringement on

the autonomy of the local union ”, wh

ile, on the other hand, “unity of purpose and unity of action” were

necessity to “ an arrangement designed to serve populace

employees in all parts of Canada on the District,

Provincial and National levels, a well as on the local level. ” In practice, local autonomy as practised in NUPE took an extreme form that, as a have over “ fro

m the days when we were a Federation rather than a

Union ”, was nobelium long suited to the kind of organization they were in the process of build up.

In other

words, the conflict between the emerging vision of

NUPE’s purpose or function and the union’s actual

structure required a fundamental re

thinking of the appropriate boundaries

of local autonomy. For these
245 20

Ibid., 7.

reasons, Rintoul advocated compulsory affiliation to uni

on structures, clear delineation of the rights and

responsibilities of each flush of the union, and

strengthening national servicing capacity through

regionalization and the elimination of servicing through the peasant divisions and zone councils. Rintoul ’ s analysis was based on a detail

understanding of the requirements of union

effectiveness. In order for the union ’ mho bodies to carry

out their roles in a context where their actions had

broader implications, a modified and less absolutis

t understanding of local autonomy had to be adopted. In

ordain to operationalize this update conception of

local autonomy, Rintoul

argued that the “rights and

responsibilities ” of each degree of the union had to be

well defined. Rintoul thus delineated a rather common-

sense oscilloscope of decision-making for each flush. The National Union was to possess assurance over matters affecting members in more than one state, and its

decisions were to be binding on subordinate levels of

the coupling, which could not establish policies “ at division with the policy of the National Union. ” Analogous powers were to be exercised by provincial divisions, di

strict councils and locals unions. As such, for Rintoul

locals would have autonomy to make “ decisions on inte

rnal policy, provided that such decisions must not

be to the detriment of members of other locals, contra

ry to policy of the District Council, the Provincial

division or the National Union. ”

Local autonomy would be significantly more limited, and thus Rintoul was

recommending both a meaning shift in the relati

onships of authority inside NUPE and a broadening of the

oscilloscope of reciprocal responsibilities, park interests and obligations. Rintoul ’ s apparently neat and legitimate definition

of responsibilities could not address the more

cardinal inconsistencies at work, however. When anal

ysed in the context of a concrete example, the

increased telescope for National policy-making envisioned by Rintoul remained constrained by local anesthetic autonomy, particularly because locals retained decision-making rights over their own collective dicker agendas and the practice of the strike weapon. In early words,

the problem of local autonom

y existed not only at the

246 21

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 8.

R. Rintoul, “Recommendations on Staff and Structure”, 8-9.

level of policies, but besides at the level of implement

ation. For example, Rint

oul argued that contracting out

would be a matter of National policy, since it a

ffected members in more than one province, and locals

would thus be “ boundary to oppose ” it. however, as Rintoul then admitted, no local could be forced to take the kinds of military action which would prevent contracting out in their detail workplace : since striking would remain the prerogative of the local, no higher

level of the union could force a strike to resist contracting out.

Locals would be “ needed ” to oppose in principle, but not

in practice on the ground. In this sense, a ‘clear

division of labor ’ on issues was useless, since it

could not guarantee locals’ adherence to national policies

so long as a disjunction between policy-making and

policy implementation persisted. Thus Rintoul

expressed an authoritative constraint on effective national

policy-making but did not fully realize – or at least

hash out – its implications. Compounding the gap between the theory

and reality of local autonomy was Rintoul’s failure to set

out any particular method for enforcing these “ separat

ion of powers”, ensuring that unions used “every

means short-circuit of strike carry through ” to implement National united states post office

licies, or preventing different sections of the union

from working at cross purposes. He did acknowledge

that “it would … be necessary to provide that in

cases of dispute or doubt, some policeman should be des

ignated as the judge to rule on matters submitted.”

however, he did not go beyond articulation of the goal, and left the means unexpressed.

His injunctions

remained at the level of what locals

should

do, and thus did not transcend the central problem which led to

the report in the first space, namely to find some way to

deal with the fact that many locals were not doing

what they “ should ” in the context of a national

organization with claims on their loyalty and identity.

The report was besides concerned with the lack of vitamin e

ffective power exercised by the National Director

and advocated the professionalization of union staff.

Rintoul characterized the relationship between the

then twelve Staff Representatives in the field and the

National Director as one of “remote control.” The

247 23

Ibid., 13-15.

system of supervision did “ not permit the National

Director to pursue an uninterrupted plan for the

development of a service and organizing program for eac

h province or region”, nor to ensure that the

appropriate type and level of service was being provided to each local anesthetic. Of especial concern was the ‘ overservicing ’ of locals due to staff reps ’ failure to

educate local union officers in certain functions. Rintoul

therefore recommended increased centrum

lization in the form of regionalisation of servicing, to be

accomplished through the establishment of four regional Directors a soon as finances permitted.

regional Directors would be responsible to the National

Director – not to provincial division executives –

allowing Rintoul to work with a smaller group of people and implement uniform policies and practices. regional Directors, Rintoul argued, would be better

able to assess organizing potential and to ensure field

representatives were doing their jobs. Such a southeast

t up would replace provincial servicing machinery,

eliminate the practice of granting roentgen

ebates to subordinate bodies in lieu of service from the national office,

and take out of the locals ’ hands decisions about the level and type of servicing they would receive. In early words, to use resources wisely and avoid wast

e, to engage in rational planning of union growth and

development, adept leadership, organized in a well-def

ined chain of command with the National Director

on top, was required. The NUPE NEB favorably received this gain st

atement of the centralizers’ logic and proposed

structures and, in early 1961, adopted Rintoul ’ s division of labor for the different levels of the union. The NEB besides endorsed in rationale the restructure of

servicing, namely the establishment of Regional

Directors and regional offices. however, these pr

ovisions were approved in the absence of enforcement

mechanisms, a supporting cultural consensus on

the meaning and limits of local autonomy, and the

fiscal means to pay for them. In particular, as

Buss reported to the 1961 Convention, the low level of

per caput and the ongoing pressures for rebates from

locals prevented the regionalization of servicing

248 24

W. Buss, President’s Address, NUPE, 1961 Convention Reports: 9. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 2, File 11]

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 5-7.

structures.

Both Locals 43 and 79 came to the NEB seeking grants after the 1959 NUPE Convention,

evening though the delegates there had explicitly reje

cted extending the rebate system to cover them.

however, with the electric potential loss of 7000 members at

stake, the NEB ignored the warnings of Rintoul and

the Convention and granted the two locals their reques

t. In an attempt to establish a clear policy and

permanent resolution of the issue, the NEB controversially proposed the union affect to a separate per caput tax organization which would eliminate the motivation for grants

by formally distinguishing between self-servicing

locals and those dependent on the National Union.

It was now up to the 1961 NUPE Convention to decide

whether they would find the means to implement a new

, more centralized vision of the union, with a formal

realization of the unlike types of organizations within

its midst, or retain the more familiar yet increasingly

incoherent and conflictual condition quo. The pressures on NUPE to address these authoritative st

ructural flaws multiplied with the renewal of

amalgamation talks with NUPSE. Fresh from their own in

ternal battles, Stan Little and Francis Eady, now a

NUPSE national staff member and a key actor on their me

rger committee, were quick to pick up on these

‘ weaknesses ’ as a new guise for foster delays in

the merger process and a way to gain the upper hand in

negotiations. NUPE leaders returned to these talks with

the image that they were unable “to put their own

house in order ” and create the kind of union needed to be effective. NUPSE leaders asked how, then, could they be expected to lead a new Canadian coupling of public employees ? II.

Shots Across the Bow: The Merger Talks of 1960-62

Over a class had passed since the last amalgamation

meeting, with both NUPE and NUPSE preoccupied

with internal issues authoritative to the amalgamation proc

ess. Both had been seeking ways to become structurally

‘ satisfactory ’ to each other and to meet on a foot of

relative equality. The attempts to eliminate these

249 26

S. Little, “Report of Merger M

eetings held in Ottawa, June 6-7-8″, 1960: 1.CUPE F

onds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 12]

barriers were insufficient, however : when the thousand

ger committees met again for three days in June 1960 to

trade proposed changes to the draft CUPE Constitution,

the differences had both shifted focus and become

more fundamental. The issues which had dominated the

first four years of talks now receded into the

background. The trouble of OHEU ’ second condition and

autonomy in NUPSE had been ostensibly resolved by the

membership referendum the previous calendar month, and

the agreement setting up the per capita rebate system

was to be signed in a matter of weeks. The jurisdicti

on controversy was also more or less settled: in this

meet, NUPE representatives fi

nally agreed to NUPSE’s April 1959 proposal on jurisdiction, which would

have CUPE include both municipal and provincial workers.

With NUPE’s accession to NUPSE’s vision on

legal power, the two unions could now form a unit

ed front vis-à-vis the CLC’s policy on public service

legal power, where the very obstacles lay. however, though NUPE had grown, it had besides puerto rico

oved incapable of raising its per capita and

returned to the board with neither

a strengthened national servicing capacity nor organizational unity in the

form of compulsory affiliation to the union ’ second structures.

Little and Eady were thus able to refocus the debate

aside from NUPSE ’ second problems and onto what they deemed to be NUPE ’ s deficient, decentralized structure and their result inability to maintain a healthy level of

per capita to support national services. From this

meeting forward, the future administration ’ randomness per caput

was a central bone of contention. But conflicts over

finance were rooted in deeper and more complicate di

fferences over union function and structure, such

as the definition of a “ minimum ” national program, deoxythymidine monophosphate

he location of control over servicing, the status of

“ self-servicing ” locals and their function of service

grants and local business agents, and the relationship of

locals to early parts of the union. Four years in

to the merger process, the discussions were finally

250 27

S. Little, letter to C. Jodoin, “Re: Statement on Merger

between the National Union of P

ublic Service Employees and the

National Union of Public Employees ”, March 3, 1961 : 1.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 18]

S. Little, “Report of Merger Meeti

ngs held in Ottawa, June 6-7-8″, 1.

F. Eady, “Report on Current Position re Merger with NUPE (confidential)”, September 20, 1960: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG

28, I234, Vol. 5, File 12 ] 30

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes, Dece

mber 8-9, 1961: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 6]. Hikl

was a czechoslovakian immigrant, and as a leave an ardent anti-co

mmunist. MacMillan reports that Hikl was thus “always trying

to ‘ screw ’ Gil Levine as a solution of the latter ’ randomness erstwhile asso

ciation with the CPC. Former CUPE PR Director Norm Simon told

( continued … ) revealing, as Little put it, the two organization ’ sulfur

“differences in trade union outlook, philosophical and

political viewpoints in their broadest common sense. ”

At the June 1960 meet, NUPE pr

oposed a 50-cent per capita, with no rebates to anyone – the

lapp placement proposed by the CLC in 1957. At that

level, according to Little, the present combined

income of the two organizations would be reduced by $ 154,000.

NUPSE, on the other hand, advanced

$ 1.05 as the come which would allow for both

maintenance of current programs and expansion of

National and sphere staff. In the course of discussi

on, however, NUPSE held that a “basic programme” –

including a CLC per head increase, a irregular Resear

cher, an Education Director, a National Journal with

an editor program, and a Director for Ontario, with no increase to

field staff – would require a minimum per capita of

80 cents.

This staff complement would exclude other positions which NUPSE also felt were necessary,

such as job evaluators, travelling auditors and extra serve and organizing staff, but would have to submit for the prison term being. The parties were clearly fa

r apart not only on per capita, but also on the extent of

national staff needed for an effective union. While, for the NUPE committee, these demands s

eemed to come out of nowhere, NUPSE’s desire

for meaning bureaucratization of the National Office was a reflection of the home structural changes they had made in the intervening years. The accession of

significant blocks of members in Manitoba in 1956-

7 and in Quebec in 1960 permitted the establishment of regional offices with Directors responsible for organizing and supervision of field staff. NUPSE was besides

adding full-time staffers to the National Office,

first Eady in 1960 and then Mario Hikl as the Director of Research in 1961.

These staff positions had also

251 30

(…continued)

Crean that Hikl, “ to his dying day, could have passed a lie detec

tor test that [CUPE National

Secretary-Treasurer and, later,

National President ] Grace Hartman was a

Commie menace placed there by the Krem

lin ” ( Crean, 114 ). however, MacMillan says that the PhD holder “ knew legislation ” and was

a capable Legislative Director

for CUPE (MacMillan, 159).

The recasting of Little’s title and respons

ibilities should be understood in the context of

the earliest merger meetings, in wh

ich

Rintoul ’ s functionally broader role as NUPE ’ s National Director

was understood to place him ‘naturally’ at the top of any natio

nal

staff hierarchy created by a fusion. Alt

hough such a rationale is not explicitly noted in the documents, it is likely that Lit

tle

pursued such a transfer in order to block Rintoul ’ s

‘natural’ assumption of such a position in CUPE.

S.Little, letter to NUPSE Executive Board Members, “Re:

Finance and Budget”, September 10,

1958: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 4 ] 33

NUPSE, National Executive Committee minutes, September 20, 1960: 1, 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File

5 ] ; NUPSE, 1960 Convention Proceedings :

17. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 6]

accumulated a lot of power, particularly the Direct

or of Organization, which was transformed into the

National Director in 1959.

Little, rather than part-time National

President James Clark, was routinely

charged with representing NUPSE at both home and external bodies, and not merely on technical or administrative matters. Throughout this period, constant

pressure from Little for more funding for staff, in

accession to the realities of budget deficits racked up

by 1958, served to push NUPSE’s per capita up from

$ 1.00 in 1957 to $ 1.40 in the fall of 1960.

Little’s vision of an “effective”, centralized and expert-led union

was bolstered by Eady ’ s arrival on the national staff,

and both worked to convince the NEB to transform the

half-time presidency into a full-time position with “ author

ity over all other officers in carrying out their duties”

and with “ voice but no right to vote ” on all of the union ’ s

subordinate bodies. The National Executive promptly

endorse Little as their candidate, who was installed in office in the fall of 1960.

These changes thus

upped the ante in amalgamation negotiations : as a more cent

ralized union was coming to fruition in NUPSE, Little

and Eady would fiercely resist attempts to undo thes

e developments in the process of merging with NUPE.

As such, NUPSE was promoting a larger and more powerful National Office. soon after the June 1960 converge, and despite the

optimistic cast contained in Little and Eady’s

initial reports, the NUPSE leadership began to set out

another rationale for delaying merger rooted in its

commitment to centralization. respective months of in

ternal discussion, supported by a series of analyses by

252 34

F. Eady, “Report on Current Position re Merger with NUPE (confi

dential)”, September 20, 1960; N.A. [F. Eady and S. Little],

“ Basic Problems standing in the direction of Merger between NUPSE and NUPE ” ( confidential

circular to NUPSE Executive Board),

December 6, 1960. Both CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 12 ] 35

S. Little, “Report of Merger Meeti

ngs held in Ottawa, June 6-7-8”, 1.

S. Little, letter to C. Jodoin, “Re: Statement on Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, March 3, 1961: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc.

MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 18 ] 37

F. Eady, “Report on Current Position re Merger with NUPE”, 3.

Eady

and centred around a NUPSE NEB meeting in December

1960, culminated in a memo sent by Little

to the CLC in March 1961, containing a series of sca

thing criticisms of NUPE’s structure. The main

obstacle in the way of amalgamation, according to Little,

was now “NUPE’s inability to centralize the operation of

their Union sufficiently to raise their per head. ”

Given this inability, “ [ i ] n the present uncertain state of matter of NUPE, by their apparent unwillingness to face up to the

problems of per capita, structure and the need for a

strong National Union, it would appear that

Merger is unlikely in the near future.”

NUPE ’ s access to the problem of per caput, as

Eady correctly pointed out in his analyses, was

“ unify and we will raise the per caput by and by. ”

NUPE’s own formation in 1955 reflected this principle,

which emphasized formal over substantial one. By

setting the per capita so low, it was thought, those

units accustomed to servicing grants from the Na

tional Union would no longer need them, and a state of

equality between locals would be established. The

strategy would leave the thornier problem of

significantly raising per head – particularly for the NU

PE locals – to the post-merger period. This approach

assumed that bringing everyone in on peer terms w

ould foster mutual ident

ification and solidarity and

make per caput increases possible after a peri

od of ‘socialization’ into the new organization.

however, NUPSE opposed deferring the fiscal wonder until after fusion, as NUPE ’ s own experience proved that organizational oneness did not

automatically produce the necessary shifts in

awareness. A proper appreciation of the balance of forces inside NUPE, which repeatedly thwarted “ sufficient ” per head and serve increases by thymine

he Convention, was cause for pessimism. For Eady,

NUPE ’ second projected numeric potency in the modern CUPE would be baffling given their track record and
253 38

F. Eady, “Report on Current Position re Merger with NUPE”, 3.

Ibid.

N.A. [F. Eady and S. Little], “Basic Problems standi

ng in the way of Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, 1.

S. Little, letter to C. Jodoin, “Re:

Statement on Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, 2.

N.A. [F. Eady and S. Little], “Basic Problems standi

ng in the way of Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, 1.

the adjective requirements for changing the charge

of per capita: “What is not said [by NUPE

representatives ] is that every increase has been bitte

rly opposed in NUPE, and that once fixed a two-thirds

majority will be needed to raise it. ”

What Eady did not say but was no doubt conscious of was the

likelihood that NUPSE ’ s own local anesthetic 1000 would join forces with autonomists in NUPE to oppose per head increases, specially in the absence of a service

grant or rebate system. After merger, a cross-union

autonomy alliance would constitute a significant voti

ng bloc capable of hindering per capita increases in

the future CUPE. Eady ’ s analysis of NUPE ’ s reluctance to increase per

capita pointed specifically to those elements

inside NUPE who defended such extreme decentralizati

on, and were overlooked by Rintoul in his

assessment of the NUPE structure.

Eady claimed that “behind this whol

e per capita argument is the much

more basic problem of occupation agents. The fact is

that at present NUPE is controlled by locals having

business agents, and these locals are not concerned

in national programming, especially if it costs

money. ”

NUPSE opposed the practice of servicing via local business agents because it was “inefficient …

tends to over-service the big locals and leaves the belittled locals to fend for themselves ” due to stretching of home service staff.

The result of the decentralized busi

ness agent system was not a ‘proper’ union,

but “ a Federation linking a series of little Empires into a loosely constructed union without sufficient cardinal steering. ”

The business agent system was more than inefficien

t, however; it also led to ‘poor leadership’.

little and Eady both argued that while the system “ is

supposed to be ultra-democratic, … it works out to

mean that those creditworthy for local leadership are

more concerned with politicking for re-election than

giving leadership. ”

Moreover, the “starving” of NUPE’s nati

onal level had resulted in “retarded” national

254 43

S. Little, letter to C. Jodoin, “Re:

Statement on Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, 2.

NUPSE, 1958 Convention, Constitutional

Amendments: 5; CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 4]

NUPE, 1955 Constitution and By-Laws. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4,

File 2]. Article 10, Section 1 of the

fundamental law did give the National Director

the right to inspect any local’s books and records, did not empower them to take an

action after such an inspection. The miss of trust territory

powers was also pointed to in

a 1963 report by Rintoul on his

investigation of the activities of a local ’ second business agentive role, in

which he reminded local members that “[t]he National Union has

agency to place a local union under trust

eeship even on the basis of a request from

the local union president and a petition

from a hearty number of members. ” R. Rin

toul, “Report on Investigation of Winnipeg

General Hospital Employees ’ Union Local 56 ”, June 1963 : 1. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 8 ] 46

N.A. [F. Eady and S. Little], “Basic Problems st

anding in the way of Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, 2.

Ibid.

S. Little, letter to C. Jodoin, “Re:

Statement on Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, 2.

Ibid., 3; F. Eady, “Report on Current Position re Merger with NUPE”, 3.

programming, “ inadequate position facilities ” with reps

working out of their homes, “sometimes non-existent

clerical avail ”, and overwork staff repr

esentatives covering too many locals.

The discussion of business agents reflected some authoritative differences in views on the allow locus of control in the marriage. NUPSE was

no doubt using the kind of control established in their

own constitution in 1958 as a criterion : the NEB possessed across-the-board powers to investigate locals and place them under trusteeship.

NUPE had no such capacity,

and NUPSE leaders were thus even more

uncomfortable with a occupation agent system that meant “ five

y little control or influence is exercised over the

activities of the locals. ”

Such local control had resulted in cont

radictory practices and policies: locals

were “ taking action which may, in the unretentive run,

be expedient for the local but overall may have an

highly adverse effect on the Union. ”

This ‘lack of discipline’ had, in Little’s opinion, prevented NUPE

from being an effective player in the CLC.

For NUPSE, the system of business agents would have to be eliminated or brought under National

control, even though this would constitute “political suicide” for

NUPE ’ mho officers.

As an ardent garter of the CCF/NDP and a then

cial democratic approach to labour politics,

central control was besides crucial to Eady for ideological reasons. Bubbling under the open of the discussions, and making an casual appearance in NUPSE ’ s internal confidential documents, was the consequence of “ Communist influence ” in NUPE. Eady ’ s

December 1960 memo in particular made claims about

255 50

N.A. [F. Eady and S. Little], “Basic Problems standi

ng in the way of Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”, 2.

Ibid. MacMillan refers to Art Roberts, business agent for Local

8 in Calgary, as a communist, and he was likely one of the

western staffers being referred to in this memo. interestingly, MacMillan credits Little with not going after these staffers.

“When

he decided to take [ Roberts ] and other busi

ness agents on, Stan didn’t say, ‘Is he a Commie? Is he left? How far left or right

he ? ’ He brought them all on staff ” ( MacMillan, 160 ). however, thorium

is contradicts the experiences of other staffers like Gil Levi

ne,

who encountered a very dogmatically anti-communist Little. This might indicate that Li

ttle was capable, in certain circumstance

of a more hardheaded approach path to the bequeath, not alone recognizing tantalum

lent and commitment, but the impor

tance of integrating powerfu

confrontation figures into the organization.

There appears to have been limits to this

, however: Little seemed absolutely unwilli

ng to

be similarly pragmatic sanction with a national sta

ffer like Levine, whose abilities were enormous, but was in a position too influentia

l for

little ’ mho taste. 52

S. Little, letter to C. Jodoin “Re:

Statement on Merger between NUPSE and NUPE”

NUPSE, National Executive Board minutes

, February 24-25, 1961. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 6, File 6]

the extent of communist influence in NUPE, identif

ying three Western staffers, including Alberta staff

spokesperson and former NUPE pres

ident Pat Lenihan, as Communists, and asserting that other evidence

was “ yet to be documented. ”

He proposed that “ the question can not be dealt with by Oaths of Office. It can only de deal with by an dependable appraisal of the

problem, and machinery provided to bar Communists

from office and means of removing them francium

om such positions as Business Agents.”

In other words, members themselves could not be expected to resist

the influences of Communist

activists, and therefore

needed a strong and politically aware National Office to pr

event ‘subversives’ from gaining or maintaining a

foothold in the newfangled coupling. This discussion was not,

however, included in the official version of NUPSE’s

side on fusion sent to the CLC and NUPE.

Indeed, the CLC via Jodoin strongly recommended its

deletion, “ so as not to confuse the basic financ

ial and structural differences” between the unions.

however, it was indicative of the sources of

NUPSE’s discomfort with NUPE’s decentralized structure.

Underlying these criticisms of NUPE were a seri

es of assumptions about the appropriate roles and

capacities of leadership and membership. Eady

and Little clearly believed the sectionalist NUPE

membership could not be trusted to make the ‘ right

decisions’, whether organizationally or politically, and

that their local representatives held excessively much power.

Rather than passively reflect the membership in their

err views, ‘ good ’ and ‘ potent ’ leaders should negotiate behind close up doors to secure the requirements for an effective merged marriage, namely a

higher per capita and strong national executive and

256 54

N.A. (Rintoul / NUPE Merger Committee), “Statement on

Merger of NUPE and NUPSE by the National Union of Public

Employees ”, May 12, 1961 : 1. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 27 ] 55

N.A. (Rintoul / NUPE Merger Committee), “Statement on

Merger of NUPE and NUPSE by the National Union of Public

Employees ”, 1. however, as I have shown, NUPSE ’ s delay

had much to do with the need to bring OHEU under the Union’s

constitution then as to make the fusion with NUPE happen. In this

sense, merger continued to be a priority for NUPSE, but given

the poor communication between the

two organizations in that peri

od, it appeared otherwise to NUPE.

staff, a

fait accompli

. Little and Eady clearly thought that merger

would take place despite the membership,

and effective leaders, with a sense of the ‘ general in

terest’, would do what was necessary to make it

happen. To add insult to injury, NUPSE sent a imitate of their review to NUPE ’ s national position in early May of 1961, a full two months after sending it to the CLC.

Particularly galling was the fact that this had been

NUPSE ’ s first communication since the June 1960 fusion

meeting, at which time it was agreed that

fiscal information would be exchanged.

Substantively, these arguments were no news to Rintoul and

early NUPE leaders, who had been arguing

many of the same things for years. Indeed, what NUPSE’s

assessments missed were the extent to which some

NUPE leaders supported centralization, and that their

negotiating counterparts were their strongest electric potential

allies. However, rather than support NUPE leaders

in their internal struggles, NUPSE ’ s report raised the

suspicions of those wary of or opposed to further

centralization, and, in depicting them as ineffective

leaders of a pathetic organization, put NUPE leaders on

the defensive. The harsh criticisms of NUPE ’ s structur

e were thus poorly received; it was clearly one thing

to have a vigorous internal argument about the flaws

of one’s own organization, and quite another to have

one ’ south weaknesses aired in public by an adversary.

As a result, Rintoul and the Merger Committee

responded promptly and defensively with their own analysis of

the obstacles standing in the way of merger.

NUPE ’ s rejoinder immediately shifted the blame

for the lack of progress back to NUPSE and their

perceived reluctance to make amalgamation a priority.

With entirely about eight meetings in five years, and meaning delays in between, the result personnel casualty of

continuity had made advancement difficult. Rintoul again

argued that NUPE “ has always taken the first step ”

to set up meetings and to exchange information, and

257 56

Ibid., 1, 4-5.

N.A. (Rintoul / NUPE Merger Committee), “Statement on

Merger of NUPE and NUPSE by the National Union of Public

Employees ”, 2. By the June 1960 meeting,

NUPE’s per capita had risen to 45 cents, near

ly to the level prescribed by the CLC

amalgamation Proposal. NUPSE ’ second per head

had increased to $1.30 from the level of

$1.00 in 1957 (F. Eady, “Report on Current

Position re Merger with NUPE ”, 1 ). In the fall of 1960, NUPE per

capita would rise to 55 cent

s, while NUPSE’s would increase

another 10 cents to $ 1.40. NUPE further raised its per caput to

60 cents at its 1961 Convention. Of course, NUPSE also raised

its per caput that lapp year to $ 1.50, milliampere

intaining the difference between the two unions.

Ibid., 3; G. Cushing and J. MacKenzie, “Merger Proposal”, 2.

that NUPSE had never been similarly forthcoming with

either their time or information. Especially

debatable at this particular conjuncture was the failu

re of NUPSE to provide financial information, as was

agreed at the June 1960 meeting, wh

ich had prevented NUPE from either

making an assessment of the

fiscal needs of the newly organization or evaluat

ing NUPSE’s claims about the matter. NUPSE had not

presented NUPE with any “ concrete evidence ” demonstrating that a per head of $ 1.05 was required for CUPE to be effective, and while “ [ deoxycytidine monophosphate ] ertain fiscal data regarding NUPE was passed on to NUPSE shortly after this June [ 1960 ] meet … football team months

later, we are still waiting for the financial statement

from them. ”

Though typical of Rintoul ’ second opinion of the negotiations

, these complaints were not the crux of the

topic, however. It was NUPSE ’ south failure to apprecia

te the difficult modifications NUPE had been making to

its internal structures which so angered Rintoul.

He emphasized that NUPE had increased its per capita on

four occasions since 1955, boosting its level by “ five

and one half times in six years”, and by 67% in the last

three years. Since 1960, per head was set at 55 cent

s, higher than the level originally prescribed by the

CLC Merger Proposal, and the NUPE NEB was going to

recommend a further per capita increase at the

approaching 1961 Convention.

Rintoul demonstrated that NUPE sta

ff and servicing had also grown since

the beginning of amalgamation discussions. By May of

1961, NUPE had 13 field reps, 15 locally employed

business agents, and six headquarters staff, constituting a

significant expansion compared to the four field

reps and four National staff employed in 1957.

The fact that NUPE had done so much with so little was a

credit to the form of organization they had adopted :

instead of being the “weak and starving” organization

258 59

NUPE’s membership had grown to 46,000 in 1961, adding a fu

ll 11,000 more members since 1957 (N.A. (Rintoul / NUPE

Merger Committee ), “ Statement on Merger

of NUPE and NUPSE by the National Union of Public Employees”, 3; G. Cushing and

J. MacKenzie, “ Merger Proposal ”, 2. 60

N.A. (Rintoul / NUPE Merger Committee), “Statement on

Merger of NUPE and NUPSE by the National Union of Public

Employees ”, 3, 4. depicted by NUPSE, NUPE had an excellent record of

organizing new locals and of negotiating collective

agreements which were, according to Rintoul, stronger than NUPSE ’ s.

As such, NUPE demonstrated that

there was a bang-up manage more diverseness in what it

took to be an “effective union”, and did “not need to make

apologies to anyone about its services and operations. ” however, despite these achievements, it was net from their actions that the NUPE leadership had implic

itly recognized the validity of NUPSE’s claims that

per caput was besides low, and that “ an effective and competitive union ” required more.

Rintoul was particularly bang-up to debunk the allegations of NUPE leaders ’ unwillingness to make crucial morphologic changes. He emphasized that

while NUPE was moving towards higher per capita and

more home program, the custom of autonomy

established during the pre-

NUPE period could not be

reshaped overnight. NUPE ’ s reluctance to raise per caput

by almost 100% to 80 cents, (not to mention

$ 1.05 ) was not a question of leadership weakness, as Li

ttle or Eady would have it, but a reflection of the

relative political weight of different groups in

the union and the continuing importance in the union of

reflecting the will of the majority, evening if leader

s disagreed with it. ‘Good leadership’ was not about

imposing one ’ second views on a overawe membership, but ra

ther involved engaging that membership in debate

about the organization and letting them decide. Given

these commitments to representative democracy, it

was pointless to agree to fusion terms which would ultimately be rejected by local anesthetic delegates at convention. In other words, Rintoul was not def

ending autonomy wholesale; his own assessment of NUPE

distinctly advocated more centralization. however, his greater sensitivity to the world power relations inside the union made him more realistic about the possibilitie

s for short-term change. Rintoul appealed to his

259 61

Ibid., 2, 4.

Ibid., 5, 6.

NUPSE, 1961 Convention Proceedings. CUPE

Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 7]; italics mine.

counterparts to see centralization as a longer-term proc

ess which would have to continue after merger. If it

was to be a discipline of amalgamation, however, then a cover would be impossible.

ultimately, Rintoul emphasized the want for compro

mise and for finding merger terms acceptable

to both conventions. NUPE believed that, like the merged CLC, differences would be more readily resolved after amalgamation than while the two unions remained offprint organizations. Rintoul

reiterated that the other

necessary condition for the decision of successful me

rger was for NUPSE officers “to give this matter

much more serious attention than they have in the pas

t … [I]t must be given top priority, with meetings held

on a even monthly basis. ” NUPE, for its part, was w

illing to “meet with NUPSE at any time, for any length

of time, at any place. ”

monthly meetings were not however in the cards,

however. Instead, both unions retreated to their

respective corners to contemplate their future move

s. The tone of NUPSE’s October 1961 Convention was

quite aloof : they sensed they now had the upper hand and could wait for NUPE or the CLC to make a travel. accordingly, the NEB submitted and the C

onvention passed a rather lukewarm resolution on

fusion, which authorized the incoming Exec

utive Board “to re-open merger talks

if and when

it receives

indication that such talks will be profitable to both

parties. [The Convention] once again confirms its desire

to see a amalgamation between our two Unions, providing

the basic needs of our mem

bership are protected.”

It was up to the delegates at the 1961 NUPE Convention

to decide the course of the merger talks.

This convention saw the convergence of two interrela

ted dynamics, one internal and expressed in Rintoul’s

1960 composition, the early external and articulated in the 1961 NUPSE memo on fusion. Both worked to generate a renewed urgency amongst the leadership to

seek permanent changes that would strengthen the

cardinal structures of the union and silence the NUPSE

critics. Buss, Rintoul and the NEB thus came to

260 64

W. Buss, President’s Address, NUPE,

1961 Convention Reports: 8-9; R. Rintoul,

National Director’s General Report, NUPE,

1961 Convention Reports : 29. Both CUPE Fonds [ N

AC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 2, File 11]

R. Rintoul, National Director’s General

Report, NUPE, 1961 Convention Reports: 29.

convention prepared to put the association between per hundred

apita, structure and merger on the table: merger

would not happen unless the delegates were bequeath to vote for a solid increase in per head and a significant improvement in national services and political oneness. The NUPE leadership came out with guns blazing, and there was some hard talk about the moral and practical implications of an excessively decentralized

structure. Buss pointed to the selfishness, short-

eyesight and miss of solidarity reflected in the argument

s of autonomists. The failure to raise per capita

sufficiently at the past two Conventions had already

prevented the Union from making the changes to the

servicing apparatus recommended by Rintoul which

would have deflected many of NUPSE’s stinging

criticisms.

In their speeches to the delegates, both

Rintoul and Buss emphasized that merger had

received top precedence at past conventions, but this

rhetoric was unmatched by a practical commitment

amongst the membership to do what was necessary

to make merger happen. Rintoul argued that they

“ would not be in a military position to make any substantial

progress towards merger unless and until such time as

our own members are prepared to pay a

per capita tax of $1.00 per month.”

In a lengthy commentary on

the offspring, Buss argued that this reluctance was due

to a failure to understand the importance of the

national union to the success of local negotiations, and

to an excessive individualism which valued a few

more cents in one ’ s own scoop quite than the collect

ive power that could come from pooling resources.

He wondered why a belittled per caput increase woul

d always be vehemently opposed, while “[a] one cent

increase in the cost of your newspaper, a software of cigarettes or a box of matches would not bring loudly protests from our members. ” In the end, Buss insisted

that the decision was for the membership to make:

they, and not the leadership, would have to determine

what kind of union they wanted, how much they

wanted amalgamation, and how much they would be volition to pay

for it. Buss was clear on what he felt was the

261 66

W. Buss, President’s Address,

NUPE, 1961 Convention Reports: 8-9.

NUPE, 1961 Convention Proceedings: 7.

‘ correct decision ’ in order to create an effective union :

“We can only provide you with the things you are

disposed to pay for … If you want a cheap union, you will have a bum coupling. If you want a firm, effective union to serve you well, you will have to pay for it. You can not reap a harvest if you are not prepared to supply the seeds. ”

While the choice was ultimately for the del

egates to make, the NUPE leadership designed what

they hoped would be a feasible compromise. In an

attempt to balance the centralizing pressures

emanating from NUPSE, the matter to

s of the autonomists and regionalizers within the union, and their own

desires to increase national gross and serve

capacity, the NUPE NEB proposed a sliding scale per

caput tax structure, in which ‘ self-servicing ’ locals

would pay 50 cents, while locals reliant on the National

Union for servicing would pay $ 1.00. Such a system

would permanently replace the controversial practice

of grants in stead of servicing with a two-tier per caput structure.

It would also increase revenue without

antagonizing the politically herculean autonomists. The backfire against the proposal was huge.

Delegates focussed on the detrimental effects of

a split per head system on the sense of equality

and unity amongst public employees. Following close on

the heels of a heat debate about the $ 3500 granted by thyroxine

he NEB to each of Local 43 and Local 79, after

the 1960 Convention had explicitly rejected such an

arrangement, delegates’ indignation about the ‘special

treatment ’ received by locals who had unilaterally

decided “they should not pay the increased per capita

tax ” spilled over into the per head dispute. many we

re particularly resentful of the ability of large locals to

“ blackmail ” the National Union, and condemned these tacti

cs as “shameful.” The vast majority of speakers

on the question were vehemently opposed to a arrangement wh

ich would institutiona

lize a double standard that,

for many, violated the fundamental trade union principl

es of equality and of the strong helping the weak.

several mid-sized self-servicing locals, such as local 343 in Trail, BC, Local 46 in Medicine Hat, and Local
262 68

Ibid., 7-10.

38 in Calgary, opposed the plan even though they w

ould benefit from it. If the National Union needed

money, they would give up their humble serve gr

ants and pay an increase. D. Gurevitch from Calgary

local anesthetic 38 “ could not see how local 43 or any other large local could not afford to pay an increased per capita tax ” if smaller locals were volition and able. other delegates could foresee the long-run implications of such a arrangement : many more locals would attempt to

become self-servicing in order to access the lower

per capita level, but “ would not be able to provide the proper service which they could obtain from the National Union. ” A hard underfunded National Union

would also be left in the wake of this policy.

Sister J. Laurence from Hamilton

Local 794 predicted a disjuncture between political power and financial

digest : “ Under this proposal the larger unions which

were self-servicing would have the voting power in

the National Union while the smaller locals would

have the sole function of being the financial backbone.”

The split per caput proposal was defended by

only three speakers from the autonomist and

regionalizer camps : Bill Overkott, president of Local

43, Max Pierotti, the business agent from Vancouver

City Hall Local 15, and Bill Black of Local 180 ( BCHE

U). Overkott and Black offered the key arguments in

favor of a two-tiered per caput arrangement. For Over

kott, locals employing business agents should simply not

have to pay the same per head tax, and even if they

did, his local could not pay as the membership had

systematically turned down dues increases. Overkott, like the OHEU leadership in their debates with NUPSE, frankincense invoked the democratic will of the local

membership as way to legitimize his opposition to

increased per caput. Whether the delegates liked it or not, a hearty per head increase would force local anesthetic 43 out of NUPE. Black argued that Local 180 had

never used national services, but more importantly

that, since his local was structurally a provincial constitution, it should not be conceived in the like way as a local anesthetic confined to a finical geographic area. He invoked NUPSE ’ s split per caput, which recognized local 1000 as a provincial organization and therefor

e fundamentally different from other locals. Though

263 69

Ibid., 8-10.

Ibid., 10-11.

Ibid., 59, 76-7.

more elastic than Overkott, Black was besides setting

out a legitimate basis for distinguishing between

different types of units within the union.

This debate presaged the final merger discussions, in which both

Overkott and Black – with their arguments and number

s – would figure prominently in blocking the

centralizing tendencies of Little and Eady ( and Rintoul, for that matter ). At the end of this long and contentious first base day

, the Convention bounced the per capita issue to

the Provincial caucuses. The next dawn, all of

the caucuses reported they were most concerned with

preventing a separate in the coupling. The overpower carbon

onsensus was that both grants and a split or sliding

scale per capita were to be rejected as a way of drug enforcement administration

ling with the union’s financial and structural problems.

however, the politically feasible compromise whic

h emerged was not entirely palatable either, especially to

the centralizers. Groups that received rebates,

like the BC and Alberta Divisions and Local 180, were

will to give them up in the interests of one and

“statesmanship”, on the condition that the level of a

coarse per head be kept low, at a maximum of 50 cents.

In other words, the condition for eliminating

the rebate system was a 5-cent

reduction

in per capita tax. In this, regionalizers and autonomists found

themselves in a temp and herculean alliance.

Delegates were thus grateful for any increase, and

approved a 60-cent per caput, with the sustenance of

the servicing grant system, without debate. Now on

a roll, autonomists besides carried the day with respec

t to the resolution on mandatory affiliation, which was

opposed by all but two speakers – one of which was Grac

e Hartman, then a secretary at North York City

Hall and a member of local 373.

NUPE was back to square one: the minuscule per capita increase was

excessively low to make the desire improvements in national

servicing possible, too high to eliminate the rebate

system, and would only maintain the union ’ s basic needs .
264 72

Ibid., 89-92, 102.

The per caput decisiveness was besides to have a profound impingement on the manner NUPE would move forward on fusion. It was a broad two days into

the Convention before merger – and the exchange of

critiques between NUPSE and NUPE – was discussed.

Beginning on Wednesday afternoon, delegates

had both Little ’ s memo and Rintoul ’ s reaction presented to them, followed by analyses from each of the Merger Committee members. NUPSE ’ s aggressive pur

suit of centralization and bureaucratization led

some of the NEB to denounce “ top-down ” unionism and put the differences within the leadership in greater relief. Black and Jack Raysbrook focussed chiefly

on defending NUPE against Little’s charges, but they

had few practical ideas about how to move fusion

forward. A delegate who had gotten hold of Eady’s

confidential memo on amalgamation revealed that NUPSE wa

s aiming to take business agents on national staff,

which sowed more discomfort amongst autonomists. Fo

r his part, Buss now wanted to see merger “come

from the grass-roots up ” though a articulation convention

where the delegates of both unions would decide the

basis for any agreement, since it was clear that t

he leaders had as yet been unable to find terms that would

satisfy the membership. Two resolutions calling for

the immediate finalization of merger with NUPSE were

then put on the floor, and argument extended former into

and evening session. Even though the delegates were

ineffective to define the basis on which a amalgamation should be concluded, with the alone resolution on the offspring referred to the Resolutions Committee never to retu

rn to the Convention floor, the tenor of the debate

however indicated that the leadership had to find a way to get it done.

The ambivalent consensus at the 1961 Conventi

on was that a strong national union was desired,

but would not necessarily be achieved through higher

per capita tax, increased national servicing or

compulsory affiliation to district councils and provincial

divisions. Delegates emphatically voted for ‘unity’ and

‘ equality ’, but only if it would not cost excessively much

and would not require participation in the union’s

average bodies. In early words, NUPE ’ s oneness remained at the lowest park denominator. Per
265 head was besides low to expand the national office in

any meaningful way, while the rebate system left the

NEB to continue to make ad hoc and discretionary arrangem

ents with different parts of the union. In other

words, the structural bases of inequality and resentm

ent remained, despite the best efforts and rhetoric of

conventionality delegates. The convention did not want to

structure inequality into the per capita system in a

clear and obvious way, but by keeping national revenues

low and retaining the rebate system, they blocked

changes which could have equalized serve. Given these decisions in favor of the condition quo, NUPE ’ s Merger Committee nowadays had its hands tied. They had been instructed by the Convention to

produce a merger, whatever it took, but were sent

back to the mesa with importantly less political capital. They could not address NUPSE ’ sulfur concerns about underfunding and a weak central body. They could

not claim that the servicing machinery had been

improved. They could not demonstrate any signifi

cant and concrete willingness on the part of the NUPE

membership to accept increase centralization in deoxythymidine monophosphate

he near future. NUPE’s leaders would therefore have to

find some other room to grease the wheels and fulfill

the 1961 Convention’s instruction to get the merger

done. III.

Into the Home Stretch: 1962-63

The 1961 NUPE Convention consequently dr

amatically shifted the terrain of merger discussions. The

delegates had given the leadership their instructions

– to make merger happen – but had provided little in

concrete terms to use as an incentive to NUPSE. The NUPE Committee therefore arrived at the March 1962 talks, held under CLC auspices, with several impor

tant compromises to make. Over the next year,

these compromises led to the ‘ satisfactory ’ resoluti

on of many of the issues that had plagued the process,

at least american samoa far as the amalgamation committees were coke

oncerned. Subsequent meetings were infused with a

renewed common sense of advance and thoroughly will, and resulted in

the establishment of a working committee of

266 73

S. Little, “Report to the NUPSE National Executive Board on Merger Meeting held

March 1-2, 1962″, March 3, 1962: 4. CUPE

Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 18 ] 74

R. Rintoul, “Report of the National Director to the NUPE Nati

onal Executive Board”, October

4, 1962: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 7 ] 75

Ibid., 2.

S. Little, “Report to the NUPSE National Executive Board on Merger Meeting held March 1-2, 1962″, 3.

three delegates from each union to meet at

the 1962 CLC convention to work on details.

The committee

went on to meet in April and July of 1962, where

more detailed work on the proposed constitution was

undertake.

Whether these arrangements would satisfy

the two memberships remained to be seen.

What broke the blind alley was NUPE ’ sulfur offer to

relinquish the National Presidency to NUPSE,

placing Little in cable to become CUPE ’ s inaugural drawing card. NU

PE, in the person of Rintoul, would instead take the

position of full-time National-Secretary-Treasur

er, newly proposed by NUPSE. NUPE representatives

insisted that the position be equal to

that of the President in terms of

status and pay, thereby avoiding any

sense that one union ’ mho people would be answering to the

other. Moreover, it was later decided that the

National President and the National Se

cretary-Treasurer would both be appoi

nted for a term of four years,

apparently to provide “ stability and continuity in the initial years ”, but in practice besides shielding these individuals from the conventionality ’ south – and therefore

the membership’s – powers of election.

Interestingly, Little’s

meet minutes include no remark any on thursday

is dramatic shift in NUPE’s bargaining position;

alternatively, he presents a matter-of-fact list of the department of veterans affairs

rious positions and each union which would hold them.

little reported that the March 1962 gathering washington

s deemed “by the parties” to have been “extremely

successful ”,

but no-one could have been more pleased than Little himself, who was now guaranteed the

top job. Given how centrally this decision would affect the post-merger balance of world power, the muteness on NUPE ’ mho depart is deafening. Why did the NUPE delegati

on make this concession? The nature of NUPE’s

own inner leadership rivalries seems responsible, as highlighted by NUPE ’ mho 1961 Convention. Without key internal structural changes in hand, NUPE leaders

had to put their own personal power interests aside

267 77

Crean, 97-8.

For instance, Eady proposed a very different executive st

ructure at the June 1960 meeti

ng, one which emphasized lines of

authority rather than regional or

union representation. The NEC would consis

t of the president, a 1st and 2nd vice-presidents,

all

to be elected at large, and the two non-voting full time office

rs. The Executive Board would include 10 regional representative

one from each of Alberta, Saskatchewan, Mani

toba, Quebec and the Atlantic Region, tw

o from BC and three from Ontario ( F.

Eady, “ Report on Current Position re Merger with NUPE ”, 3 ). There is no gain cause gilbert

ven why this proposal did not take hold,

except that it was excessively much a deviation from

NUPE’s regionalized Executive Committee structure.

NUPE / NUPSE, “Merger Agreement”, Marc

h 30, 1963: 2-3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 1]

to achieve a amalgamation that the membership widely be

lieved would improve the lives of public employees.

Membership attitudes and decisions therefore shaped how bot

h internal and inter-union rivalries could be played

out. fiddling obviously wanted the National Presidency,

and had eliminated internal rivals like James Clark

through the creation and his occupation of the full-time

elected presidency. As Crean reports, both Buss

and Rintoul were known to desire national leadership polonium

itions, and their relative institutional locations –

half-time President versus full-time National Director – made Buss uncertain about the extent of corroborate he would have in NUPE for the CUPE presidency, given

Rintoul’s experience. Thus, Buss personally had to

make the compromise forced upon the leadership by the 1961 Convention, and once he “ yielded the position to Stan Little for the sake of the fusion … everything fell into place. ”

NUPSE ’ randomness capture of the presidency made the disadvantageous representational asymmetry on the Executive Board a lot more palatable. Although respective unlike schemes had been suggested since June 1960,

by October 1962 the Committees settled on the

representational stru

cture found in the 1957

CLC Merger Proposal. The Executive Board w

ould be rounded out by three NUPE General Vice-

Presidents, two NUPSE General Vice-Presidents,

six NUPE Regional Vice Presidents and three NUPSE

regional Vice-Presidents. even without the Presi

dency, NUPE would still possess the balance of power on

the National Executive Board, with ten-spot seats to NUPSE ’ s six.

Agreement besides emerged on the elder staff postulate

ions deemed necessary for the new union. Using

fiscal information and the current services

of each union as a starting point, NUPSE prepared an

estimate budget for CUPE which would maintain pres

ent operation and address future expansion. Little

268 80

S. Little, “Report to the NUPSE National Executive Board on Merger Meeting held March 1-2, 1962″, 2.

T. Lewis, letter to P. Lenihan, August 16, 1956: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 13]

R. Rintoul, “Report of the National Director to the

NUPE National Executive Board”, October 4, 1962, 2.

was very careful to point out that the budget was not to

be construed as ‘final’ in any respect, but merely a

means for discussing and negotiating CUPE ’ randomness fiscal needs

. However, the budget reflected the emerging

consensus between the two leadership groups in fav

our of significant bureaucratization at the national

flat. The new union would have five Regional Dire

ctors, two Executive Assistants for each of the

President and Secretary-Treasurer, a Di

rector of Organization, Director of

Research, Director of Education

and Director of Public Relations. NUPE suggested metric ton

he combination of the Research and PR positions, but

this was rejected out of hand by NUPSE.

Overall, NUPE leaders seem to have become convinced that an

‘ effective union ’ would require signi

ficant numbers of ‘expert’ staff.

however, while the question of positions had been selenium

ttled, the more contentious problem of who

would do what soon arose. Though it had been agreed from

the outset of the merger process that all

current staff from both unions would be offered em

ployment, there was trepidation about mixing the two

staff complements together, not to mention retaining them in their current positions. early in the talks, NUPE was not eager to have CUPE “ saddled ” with Little

as the Director of Organization, since NUPSE was

seen as far less successful at organizing new workers.

This problem was dispensed with as Little moved

into the National Presidency of NUPSE and then

CUPE and the position was instead given to Buss,

doubt in separate as a reward for stepping apart. A alike reluctance on NUPSE ’ s part to have NUPE ’ s research worker, Gil Levine, become CUPE ’ s Director of

Research was evident by 1962. It had been implicitly

understand from the beginning of talks that Levine w

ould likely head up CUPE’s Research Department, even

though NUPSE had added their own Researcher, Mario Hikl, in 1961. While NUPSE no doubt had good intrinsic reasons to add the new staff position, it

did no harm in the eyes of Eady and Little to have a

campaigner to compete with Levine, whose past communist ties were probably known to the NUPSE
269 83

N.A., NUPSE, Check list of “Points to Watch”, n.d. (1962).

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 14]

Gilbert Levine, interview by author,

16 December 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON.

F. Eady, “Report on Current Position re Merger with NUPE”, 3.

leadership. This read of events is indirect

ly corroborated by an undat

ed NUPSE document entitled

“ Checklist of ‘ Points to Watch ’ ”. This number, referring

to many of the issues still in contention circa 1962 and

used by NUPSE ’ s fusion committee, stipulated that “ the Research Director should be person from NUPSE. ” No reason is given in this document, but the

next ‘point to watch’ is “[t]he Communist issue, and

how to control it. ”

In other words, Little and Eady likely had knowledge of Levine’s political affiliations and

were manoeuvring to keep him out of an crucial

CUPE staff position. However, the NUPE merger

committee dug their heels in and insisted that, if Levine wa

sn’t taken on as Research Director, there would

be no amalgamation.

NUPSE had to give in on this one, but got a consolation prize: a wholly new Legislative

Department with Hikl as Director. The distribution of

senior National Office positions was now relatively

equal, with three going to NUPE and four to NUPSE. Wh

ile this equality was to prevent the domination of

one group over the other, it was besides to

foster a deep level of factionalism.

The appointment of staff positions was besides linked

to which intermediate structures the union should

have, and which identities should t

herefore be institutionalized and repr

esented. The Regional Directors

distinctly reflected the geographic form of organizati

on used in both unions. The question remained: would

there besides be national sectoral groups, like those f

ound in NUPSE? The issue had been raised at the June

1960 meet, where Eady proposed that each massachusetts

jor occupational group should elect a Standing

Committee at each conventionality, to act as “ advisors

to the National Executive Board on their particular

problems and as a align consistency between its locals. ”

At a certain point, then, both geographical and

sectoral bodies were envisioned for CUPE. While this particular format seems to have been abandoned by March 1962, NUPE suggested at that meeting the accession of

four divisional or sectoral directors, in the

270 86

S. Little, “Report to the NUPSE National Executive Board on Merger Meeting held March 1-2, 1962″, 2.

R. Rintoul, “Report of the National Director to the

NUPE National Executive Board”, October 4, 1962: 1.

Kealey Cummings, interview by author,

17 December 1999, personal, Ottawa, ON.

N.A., NUPSE, “Check list of ‘Points to Watch’”.

S. Little, President’s Report, NUPSE, 1963 C

onvention, September 23, 1963: 3. CUPE F

onds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5,

File 8 ] areas of hospitals, municipals, school boards and hydro.

This proposal is strange coming from NUPE, as

they had opposed sectoral organization from the originate.

However, by July 1962, the joint working committee

had resolved not to mandate the creation of sectoral

directors, preferring instead to invest the CUPE

executive board with the ability to engage divisional

directors “as the need and the finances dictated.”

No denotative rationales are provided for the

abandonment of sectoral organization. However,

sectoral groups had the electric potential to provide a knock-down

unifying identity and national infrastructure with the

capacitance to compete with CUPE and form their own national union if they ever became discontent. feel in both unions, with Locals 180 and 1000, had

shown the power sectoral organizations could

accumulate on a provincial basis – how much more ‘ debatable ’ would they be on a national scale ? In this sense, geographic representation may have been a stra

tegy to fragment the development of national

occupational identities.

Though provincial divisions could also be

powerful unifying forces, they were also

riven by cross-cutting occupational divisions which c

ould easily be mobilized. Furthermore, the capacity of

provincial organizations to break away from CUPE

was limited, given the unlikely acceptance of such

provincial organizations by the CLC. Lines of authority

were also an issue: since sectoral directors would

potentially clash with regional directors, as their ju

risdictions would “clash and cross”, a choice had to be

made.

Finally, it appears that by this time NUPSE’

s divisional boards were no longer playing any

significant function in the union ; between 1961 and 1963 t

hey did not meet, and their role was advisory at

best.

Perhaps NUPSE leaders were content to see a defunc

t structure fade away. In any case, since both

unions already possessed well-developed provincial

structures, basing representation on geography was

the easiest solution .
271 91

S. Little, “Report to the NUPSE National Executive Board on Merger Meeting held March 1-2, 1962″, 3.

N.A., NUPSE, “Constitutional Position re Service Grants”, Decem

ber 6, 1962: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5,

File 14 ] The wonder of the extent of National Office c

ontrol over local union affairs remained, and was

related to two authoritative issues. The first was t

he status of NUPE local business agents and their role in

reinforcing autonomist tendencies. NUPE drawing card

s now appeared prepared to contemplate potential

“ political suicide ” in order to bring business agents onto CUPE National ’ randomness staff, possibly because both Rintoul and Buss were now shielded from the members ’

wrath. At the March 1962 meeting, “[t]here was

some indication from NUPE that, of the 15 occupation Agents, it might be possible to incorporate a few of them more or less immediately ; and that plans milliampere

y be set out on a term basis to eliminate others.

however, it was clear that sealed units would in

sist upon continuing on the Business Agent structure for

some time to come. ”

Little and Eady, dead set against leaving business agents outside the National

Office ’ mho control, developed a schema they hoped would ev

entually bring them into the National’s orbit and,

more importantly, prevent new business agents from

being hired and used as a rationale for claiming per

caput rebates. NUPSE therefore recommended in Dece

mber 1962 that the CUPE NEB should have the power

to make payments to locals employing the now-18

existing business agents equivalent to the annual salary

of a national example. To prevent locals

from scrambling to employ their own business agent and

demand their wage be paid by the national office, the

merger agreement would sti

pulate that no extension

of the occupation agent system could take place unle

ss done with local revenue after meeting national per

head requirements, and that refilling of busi

ness agents would either be done at the sole expense of

the local, or by grant of a national staff representative to the loca

l. Most importantly, business agents

would be subject to the decisions of the NEC / NEB and the National Convention on matters of home union policy.

However, this plan did not make it into t

he final merger agreement, not least because of the

272 93

F. Eady, Article 3, Section 3, Draft Constitution for t

he Canadian Union of Public Employees, May 20, 1960: 3. CUPE Fonds

[ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 26 ] ; NUPSE, Article 3,

Section 3, Constitution and By

laws, October 1959: 2. CUPE Fonds

[ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 5 ] 94

F. Eady, Memo on conversation with Mr. David Lewis of Joliffe

, Lewis and Osler, re Article III, Section 4 of 1962 Revised #2

draft of CUPE Constitution, March 26, 1963. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 15 ] ; M. Wright, letter to R. Rintoul

February 27, 1963 : 1. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 3, File 20 ] major beat it would create amongst NUPE ’ south largest and

most influential locals. The autonomy-reinforcing

influence of local business agents would have to wait for CUPE ’ s post-merger consolidation. NUPSE besides attempted to bolster the National Office

’s ideological and political control over locals,

as seen in their approach to “ the Communist issue ”.

Using their own constitution as a model, NUPSE

proposed a prohibition against the affiliation to CU

PE of “[a]ny Local controlled or dominated by

communists, or fascists, or those whose policies and activities are systematically directed toward the accomplishment of the program or purpose of

any of the above mentioned movements.”

Such legalist

attempts to trump locals ’ decisions regarding who w

ould represent them were unsuccessful, however. Both

unions sought legal advice from their respective lawy

ers on the constitutional issue. While David Lewis,

nowadays besides NUPSE ’ s lawyer, strongly advocated ret

ention of the prohibition against Communists “for

organizational and political reasons ”, NUPE ’ sulfur adviser, M

aurice Wright, argued that such a provision would

open the union up to charges of discrimination ; in

any case, proving “communist or fascist adherence”

would be following to impossible, and would therefore vi

olate principles of evidence and due process.

Ultimately,

the provision was dropped. In early words, ther

e were pressures towards reformism and political

uniformity, but they weren ’ deoxythymidine monophosphate ( and ar

en’t always) entirely successful, as t

here were variations in how much

different leaders valued ‘ correct ’ ideology versus one ’ second effectiveness as a union activist. possibly ampere shocking as NUPE ’ s giving up of the presidency was their concurrence in March 1962 that CUPE ’ sulfur per head should be set at $ 1.05, then

mething they had resisted since NUPSE first proposed it

in June 1960. Why the committee felt emboldened to agree

to this dramatic jump in per capita for NUPE

members is ill-defined, specially since key blo

cs at the 1961 Convention had clearly been unwilling to

273 95

NUPSE, National Executive Committee minutes

, October 4-6, 1962: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 7, File 1]

chew over it seriously. Suffice it to say t

hat it was not an agreement

rooted in what the NUPE

membership would ultimately accept, unless accompanied by even more far-flung rebates to self- servicing locals. Thus the NUPSE Merger Commi

ttee found itself at the

October 1962 NEB meeting

recommending that CUPE ’ s per caput be set at 85

cents to eliminate rebates to NUPE locals with

business agents.

At this rate, the level of revenue of the two organizations would be maintained after they

were merged, with a little extra for expansion. Giv

en the significant commitments made with respect to the

expansion of national staff, finances were bound to be tight for the newfangled union. however, since both Local 1000 and Local 180 ‘s particular condition had to be dealt with, servicing grants could not be dispensed with all in all. With

their significant numbers and potential to form the

nucleus of competing sectoral organizations, both

locals would have to be content with the merger

musical arrangement. In December 1962, NUPSE developed

a plan which would both institutionalize and

legitimate the distinction between local and provincial unions, and allow the NEB to retain a degree of allowance when dealing with different groups of provincial

workers. Rather than establishing a set rate for

respective groups within the union, who would likel

y have different needs in any case, “[t]he National

Executive Board shall have the author

ity to examine the internal servicing facilities and requirements of

provincial Unions, and where appropriate Service Di

visions, and where it is deemed advisable to designate

grants sufficient to maintain such home service as is necessity in stead of direct aid from National Union Personnel. ” such tractability was deemed necessary not only to suit existing peasant unions, but besides to accommodate any possible future additions to CUPE, such as peasant government employees, a promise which Little still nurtured despite the CLC ’ s puerto rico

onouncements on the matter. Vesting these powers in

the NEB was “ the easiest way to accommodate existing groups, and at the same time leave the National Executive Board the flexibility it

needs to promote the growth of the National Union.” The “special

274 96

N.A., NUPSE, “Constitutional Po

sition re Service Grants”, 1.

NUPE / NUPSE, Minutes, Joint Session of National Executive

Boards, January 26, 1963: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28,

I234, Vol. 4, File 1 ] dispensation for Provincial groups ”, which set their per

capita at 50 cents, was thus another key element in

the fusion compromise. This would constitute an increase of 20 cents for local 1000, and 5 cents for local anesthetic 180.

Of run, this placement caused as many politic

al problems as it solved. The lower per capita

for the two peasant unions would plague the NUPE and NUPSE leaderships at their respective 1963 Conventions. While the recognition of provincial

unions constituted a key trade off needed to make the

amalgamation happen, some of the traditionally self-servicing locals were unable to accept the ‘ injustice ’ of the set-up. The NEB ’ s powers to make grants were subsequently expanded to include local unions as a means of pacification. Removing the eminence bet

ween provincial and local unions created the basis for

locals to continue in autonomy-seeking behaviours. How well this would work remained to be seen. The joint amalgamation working committee ’ s efforts we

re held up for scrutiny in January 1963 at a lengthy

joint session of the National Executive Boards of

NUPE and NUPSE. While both executive boards reported

solid votes in prefer of fusion, there remai

ned important reservations from local and provincial

leaders in both unions regarding “ fiscal matters ”,

and the legitimacy of making distinctions between

different types of locals.

At this meeting, the effectiveness of the compromise reached was challenged

from all sides, and the political tensions which CUPE would have to face were clearly expressed. NUPE autonomists, specially from the large self-servicing locals, were the most outspoken in condemning the proposed per head structure as excessive

and inequitable. At the forefront of this group

was Bill Overkott of NUPE Local 43, whose local would

merge only “on condition that it retained its local

autonomy, retained its occupation agent and

that there was no increase in t

he per capita payments. If Local

180 and Ontario Hydro got especial consideration,

Local 43 would demand equal treatment.” Overkott

275 98

Ibid., 1-2, 10.

Milroy was NUPE Regional Vice-President

from Lethbridge Local 70, while Robis

on was NUPE Regional Vice-President from

Vancouver City Hall Local 15. 100

Ibid., 5.

clearly did not accept the distinctions being made upon which the stallion rationale of a separate per head for provincial unions hinged. As he had argued at

the 1961 NUPE Convention, his local had monthly dues

of $ 2.50, “ which they had tried unsuccessfully to

raise on a number of occasions. He was not opposed to

amalgamation but felt that it would not be potential for him to

get his members to accept an increase of this size in

their payments. ”

Bill Black, A. “ Nap ” Milroy, and James Robison

made similar arguments on the part of

regionalizers, and with respect to the BC and Alberta

provincial divisions. All three argued that their

provincial organizations functioned much like Locals 1000 and 180 – they were identical effective at self- serve, and wished to retain this structure. They

no doubt worried that the nationalization of servicing

would significantly reduce the ability and condition of public relations

ovincial divisions. Black went somewhat further:

although he repeatedly insisted that he was in favor

of merger and of the compromises needed to make it

happen, he besides reminded those introduce that Local

180 was a very strong organization on its own.

“ possibly, ” he suggested, “ it might have been wiser

to have a national union of hospital workers.”

100

Black’s

precedence was a national consolidation of hospital wo

rkers, preferably inside CUPE; however, in the air now

was the hypothesis that, at some point, Local 180 might

reconsider their choice to go along with merger.

These autonomist positions, specially as articulated by Bill Overkott, were challenged by NUPSE local anesthetic representatives who presented the character against sectionalist concerns. For Bill Baker of NUPSE Local 1, despite besides having sought self-servicing status,

this kind of thinking amounted to maintaining “separate

little islands ” which would be an obstacle to integrity.

Instead, everyone “had an obligation to the parent body

276 101

Ibid., 2.

102

Johnson was a NUPE Regional Vice-President

from Winnipeg School Board Local 110.

103

Ibid., 6.

104

Ibid., 2, 4.

to provide the things that were necessity for everybody. ”

101

Similarly, D. Johnston

102

from NUPE Manitoba

pointed out that “ [ one ] t was not possible for people th

inking on the local level to access the problems and

difficulties which could be seen at the Merger Committ

ee level”, and that failing to think in National terms

would impede the consummation of the amalgamation.

103

OHEU representatives Kealey Cummings and Bert Murray were besides ill at relief with the terms of fusion, despite the provincial union ’ s lower 50-cent

per capita. Cummings revealed that he had voted

against the aim budget for CUPE as it set the level of per caput for locals serviced by the National besides low, which resulted in more resources having to come from local anesthetic 1000 via a 25-cent increase in their per head under NUPSE. Murray even argued that

the merger was being accomplished at OHEU’s

expense, since their contribution to the National Uni

on would increase by $50,000. Dealing with a complex

set of workplaces and employee groups, local anesthetic 1000 ( as opposed to other locals ) “ needed to maintain first rate research for their members ”, which, Murray argued,

would be impeded by the “loss” of per capita to the

National Union.

104

In other words, OHEU advocated increased c

entralization for others so that they could

retain more resources to serve their own sectionalist concerns. other NUPSE representatives indicated they would have difficulties going back to their locals after having “ sold ” the amalgamation on the basis of a proposed per

capita of $1.05. The 85-cent per capita was “on

the cheap side ” and “ fallacious ”, not providing enough field-grade officer

r staff resources and other forms of national

servicing. While everyone understood the want for compromise, respective suggested that possibly the memory of the concede system and the set of hello

gher per capita would have been a superior solution.

several NUPE representatives besides indicated that wh

ile many thought the per capita was too high, the

majority of the membership was now will to pay

what was necessary to make merger happen. Indeed,

277 105

Ibid., 4-5.

106

Ibid., 8.

107

Ibid., 6.

as Baker pointed out, NUPE members “ could well afford

to pay the shot”: wage rates were in general quite

good and they “ were not kidding anybody by saying they could not afford to pay an extra few cents. ”

105

Despite these objections, the joint executive meeti

ng resulted in a vote of confidence in the merger

committee and an acceptance that the two unions proc

eed with merger on the basis of the provisions

discussed above. Little, Rintoul, Buss and Black all re

iterated the importance to public sector workers of

concluding the amalgamation, despite the structural and political problems that would no doubt result. It was immediately the leadership ’ s duty to advocate amalgamation am

ong the membership, to make sure that all were

convinced of the necessitate for compromise. This would

require a great deal of effort, and perhaps ‘better

leadership ’ than had been offered in the by : little be

lieved that members “would be prepared to pay even

$ 1.40 for a impregnable unite organization, if they were

approached in the right way and made aware of the

benefits. ”

106

however, the task of selling the fusion woul

d not be easy, and important factions remained

discontented. The NUPSE Quebec representatives left

the January meeting dissatisfied with the results

and emerged as another authoritative regi

onalizing voice. Though relatively silent at the meeting, Guy

Beaudry of Quebec Hydro Local 300 emphasized the singularity of the Quebec context in which NUPSE had to compete against a very well-funded CNTU organizi

ng in the public sector with a large number of

highly skilled, knowledgeable and well-paid staff.

107

In a March 1963 letter to the NUPSE NEB, Quebec

Director André Thibaudeau explained how, due to this

intense competition, the new union’s per capita

would be insufficient to expand CUPE in Quebec. While

the majority of Quebec locals wanted the merger,

that there was no guarantee they would vote in fav

our at the September 1963 f

ounding convention, raising

the ghost of a split from the new

merged union. Quebec locals were also contemplating the creation of a

278 108

A. Thibeadeau, letter to NUPSE National Executive Board members, March 25, 1963: 2-4. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28,

I234, Vol. 5, File 14 ] 109

R. Rintoul, Report of the National Director to the NUPE National

Executive Board, October 4, 1962: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc.

MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 7 ]. No rationale is provided for this reduction in Quebec ’ s represent

ation in any of the documents of

the

period. however, one speculates that NUPE may have insisted on having its greater numbers bette

r reflected on the NEB after

having yielded the presidency to NUPSE. strong Quebec provincial council, to be funded by thymine

he difference between NUPSE’s per capita ($1.50) and

CUPE ’ randomness proposed per caput of 85 cents. While this placement would deal with the trouble of underfunding, a provincial council would be “ a state

within the state: a double-headed monster (which is

actually the trouble with NUPE in British Columbia

).” In other words, CUPE would have another strong

regionalizing force within its midst. ultimately, Thibaudeau questioned the wisdom of solomon of allocating Quebec representation on a professional rata basis, given the clear-cut

problems of this membership and the tendency of their

representatives on the NEB to be “ mho

ubmerged” in the Anglophone majority.

108

Significantly, one of NUPSE’s

regional Vice-Presidents from Quebec had been dropped in July 1962.

109

Quebec ’ s guaranteed National Executive Board representation stood at one as a re

sult of this change, putting the Francophone member in

a relatively disadvantageous and linguistically sequester

position if Quebec did not also hold one of the GVP

positions. This consequence was not entirely surprising given the about complete lack of participation by Quebec leaders in the fusion process up to this point ; how

ever, it set the stage for future disputes over the

distribution of regional representation. Thibaudeau ’ mho letter had little immediate impression on a serve that was inexorably coming to a stopping point, but indicated t

hat the nationalizing thrust of the merger had not

eliminated the bases for regionalizing pressures, and

presaged some of the post-merger political issues

CUPE leaders would have to face. The leaders of the new union besides had to deal with

the persistent dissent from within NUPE’s ranks,

namely from British Columbia locals and the Toronto municipal Locals 43 and 79. Meetings with each were held before the fusion agreement was ultimately deoxycytidine monophosphate

oncluded, and a discussion paper responding to the main

questions and criticisms about fusion was distributed

by the NUPE executive. In February 1963, Black

279 110

N.A., “BC Division Conference Critic

al of Merger Terms”, Local 43,

The Observer

3 (2), May 1963: 8. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc.

MG 28, I234, Vol. 15, File 5 ] 111

J.Taylor, “NUPSE Shows its Hand: ‘Amalgamati

on Whether You Like it or Not’”, Local 43

, The Observer

3 (2), May 1963: 1;

stress in original. CUPE Fonds [ NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 15, File 5]

112

B. Stewart, “Around the City Hall”, Local 43

, The Observer

3 (2), May 1963: 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 15,

File 5 ] and Rintoul spoke to 250 representatives from BC lo

cals about the proposed merger. Again, the delegates

were critical of the “ favoured st

atus treatment” of Locals 1000 and 180,

while their own self-servicing

structures would no long be funded by servicing grants.

110

evening more contentious was the meeting held with the Joint Executive Committees of Locals 43 and 79 in late March 1963, on the eve of signing the amalgamation agreement. In local 43 ‘s newsletter, a presence

-page opinion piece by the editor, Jack Taylor, reported

the joint committee ’ s indignance “ at the cavalier treatm

ent proposed for their locals” which “led to a very

bitter debate. ” Taylor ’ s analysis of the amalgamation agreement

was highly inflammatory: he claimed that “[l]ocal

autonomy would practically cease to exist ” because thyroxine

he National “would retain all rights to appoint field

officers. ” furthermore, he implied that they had been

‘betrayed’ by the NUPE leadership, as both Buss and

Rintoul had senior positions in the new union “ with appr

opriate salaries.” Perhaps most offensive to the

locals ’ leaderships was little ’ s attitude that “ [ a ] malgam

ation would come whether you like it or not”; that

crucial decisions could be made without Locals 43 and 79 was intelligibly uncomfortable, given their influence in NUPE. taylor declared : “ Locals 43 and 79 are

not

going to lump it.

We don’t have to and we

are not going to

.”

111

Elsewhere in the newsletter, Local 43’s business agent, Bob Stewart, encouraged

delegates to the approaching Ontario Division Conventi

on in May 1963 to “rally our forces and prepare our

plans ” for opposing the fusion terms

at the Convention in September.

112

The merger would thus be

concluded in the context of lingering dissatisfaction from local and regional bodies .
280 113

NUPE, “Canadian Union of Public Employees Merger Proposals”, 1963: 3.CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 1]

114

NUPE / NUPSE, “Merger Agr

eement”, March 30, 1963: 4.

IV.

Concluding the Merger: The 1963 CUPE Convention

The amalgamation agreement, finally signed on March 30, 1963 by Little and Rintoul, was a genuine compromise document which intelligibly generated tr

emendous debate within each of the unions. The

leadership had to make major efforts to ‘ sell ’ thymine

he merger agreement to t

he members and guarantee its

approval at the day-long conventions each coupling w

ould hold before the founding convention of CUPE in

September 1963. The fusion agreem

ent made clear that neither it

nor the constitution could be amended

at the convention : it was all or nothing. This st

ipulation reflected an unwillingness to throw open the terms

of fusion to hundreds of delegates – with all thei

r exceptional circumstances to be accommodated – when

it had taken seven years to get the two leadership groups to agree.

113

Anticipating the coming difficulties,

the fusion agreement exhorted all

to “renounce sectional interests or discrimination based on previous

commitment to either one of the merging organizations ” and

to “devote their efforts and activities to furthering

the interests of canadian public employees by strengthening the bonds of one within CUPE. ”

114

The 1963 NUPE Convention did not go quietly, however. Some continued their strenuous objection to the 25-cent increase over NUPE ’ s per capi

ta, and were simply unwilling to submit to any loss of

autonomy that the amalgamation might br

ing. Others worried about the trusteeship powers now vested in the

National Executive Board and their involve on locals ’ ab

ility to run their own affairs. Still others, who had

come to feel emotionally connected to NUPE, feared

the loss of their identity, particularly under a NUPSE

adherent ’ randomness leadership. As Grace Hartman recalled years

later, “[t]here was no great harmony in that last

convention. The decision to merge had to go to a ro

ll-call vote which was most unusual, but there was no

281 115

Crean, 98.

116

CUPE, 1963 Convention Proceedings: 2.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5, File 16]

117

S. Little, President’s Report, NUPSE, 1963 C

onvention, September 23, 1963: 1. CUPE F

onds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 5,

File 8 ] 118

The Public Employee

9 (3), Fall 1988: 5.

question about the concluding decision. It was the art of compromise. ”

115

Though NUPE approved the merger “by

a big majority ”, not everyone was evenly uncoerced to engage in that art of compromise.

116

For their part, NUPSE members were disbelieving

that the new union would be strong enough on the

basis of an 85-cent per caput, and worried that they w

ould no longer receive the same level of service from

the national union. NUPSE ’ s approval of the me

rger agreement, though unanim

ous, was therefore not

without its own reservations. As small put it in

his speech to NUPSE delegates, the NEB did “not look upon

the Merger Constitution and/or the documents relating thereto as being the ultimate. As must be understand in a Merger such as this, compromise must be the key-note. ”

117

For Little and the NUPSE NEB,

the amalgamation could only take place with the expecta

tion that they would eventually be able to transform

CUPE into the arrangement they wanted, an expectati

on they believed well-founded with Little at the helm.

In September 1963, then, CUPE was finally establis

hed, the result of seven years of often painful

and slow negotiations. The newfangled arrangement act

ed 78,317 members in 483 locals, with about three-

fifths from NUPE and two-fifths from NUPSE.

118

The potential of the union was enormous, in terms of both

the numbers of workers they could represent and t

he improvements they could make to public sector

wages and work life. however, not all were equa

lly enthusiastic about what CUPE would mean. The

ambivalent nature of the compromises made was electron volt

ident in the moments after adoption of the merger

agreement by the joint convention : amid the st

rains of “Solidarity Forever” sung spontaneously by

applauding delegates who had leapt to their feet, Overkott led the Local 43 delegating ’ s walk-out from the convention. The local anesthetic was not to return to CUPE

for another two years. Calgary Local 37, Lenihan’s former

local, submitted Late Resolution 92, which characteri

zed the powers of the new

NEB as “ unrestricted and
282 119

CUPE, 1963 Convention Proceedings: 2, 19.

authoritarian ” which “ could end up in the removal democra

tic rights of the local union memberships” and called

for the removal of these clauses before fusion takes space.

119

Of course, such a resolution was disallowed

by the amalgamation agreement itself, and, since it wa

s submitted late, was not even considered by the

convention. In the flush and excitation of making hawaii

story, it was easy to forget that such pockets of

discontent would not fade away easily. CUPE emerged out of a profoundly political procedure

which endeavoured to balance multiple conflicting

interests and visions of unionism. The especial structures which were created as a consequence of these compromises contained within them crucial contr

adictions whose effects would be expressed repeatedly

during the union ’ south consolidation. A key aspect of these contradictions was the way that a particular concept of union routine – focussed on expansion

and central and professionalized servicing of the

membership – was combined with identities and stru

ctures that reinforced localism and constrained the

implementation of a centralist vision. Most of the

conflicts which were to emerge over the next fifteen

years, and which are visible still visible today within

the national executive, the staff, and the position of

regional and local bodies, can be traced back to the fact

that neither the centralist nor decentralist vision

was hegemonic. The National Executive Board was to become an

important arena in which different union visions

and structures were continually disputed. T

he need for equality between NUPE and NUPSE meant that the

roles of and relationship between the National Presi

dent and National Secretary-Treasurer were muddy and

remained to be worked out. For those fearful of Li

ttle’s ultra-centralist approach, it was important to

consolidate the likely influence of

the Secretary-Treasurer as a s

ource of balance, even if lines of

assurance would be equivocal and overabundant with conflict as

a result. Similar dynamics would inform struggles

over the accurate character of the larger and more repr

esentative National Executive Board as opposed to the

283 National President and smaller National Executive Counc

il. Even where conflicts were rooted in personal

concerns over relative world power and determine, they would be well attached to broader conflicts over the power of the leadership

vis-à-vis

the membership.

National staff would besides be a independent web site of the

struggle over the degree of

centralism in the union. While the fusion agreement importantly added to the Na

tional’s staff complement, it did not provide the

fiscal means to realize the expectations attached to

the professionalization of the union. The relatively

low per head was to act as a constraint on the expansi

on of servicing. As well, staff were also divided by

factional disputes, which the equality of numbers from

each parent union only exacerbated. While issues of

personal dominance were no doubt at stake, there were al

so important differences over the appropriate role of

staff in the union, and their relationship to me

mbers and elected leaders. Equality between NUPE and

NUPSE meant that neither group c

ould become dominant, leading to a protracted struggle within the

National Office. ultimately, exacerbating the tensions amongst both t

he elected officials and appointed staff were the

decentralizing pressures from both regional and local forces, whose identities and institutional bases were left intact by the fusion agreement. regional bodies

like provincial divisions were reinforced by the

borrowing of geographic representation on the National Executive Board, but

voluntary affiliation meant that

they would remain systematically underfunded. furthermore, the institutionalization of a per caput rebate system, to be extended at the free will of the National

Executive Board, and the failure to eliminate the

business agent system due to fiscal limitations, meant

that the self-reinforcing cycle of autonomy would

be inherited by the fresh coupling from NUPE. The universe of peasant unions with different fiscal responsibilities to the national union besides sustained the

foundations for resentment and a ‘me-too’ mentality

amongst larger locals. furthermore, the fact that thyroxine

he rebate system could potentially be expanded to any local

284 served to transform per caput into a political

weapon which would repeatedly place CUPE’s financial health

and political oneness in question .
285 chapter 7 : The Limits and Contradictions of

CUPE Democracy I: Consolidating the Merger, 1963-

1967 What had been produced by the amalgamation of NUPE

and NUPSE in 1963? In many ways, it was a

one around the identical general theme of an expansive,

all-encompassing public sector unionism capable of

matching their ever-growing employers by combining a high standard of technical serve with grassroots pressure. however, the compromises needed to creat

e a union capable of carrying out such a vision made

for a profoundly contradictory organiza

tional structure. The merger

produced the ambivalent outcome of

placing an aggressively centralize leader at the head

of a decentralized structure in which much of the

concrete power – over finances and collective bargaining rhode island

ghts – remained at the local level. This structure

was underpinned by a relatively undisturbed culture of

local autonomy, a principle considered sacrosanct

not only by early NUPE locals but besides by the louisiana

rge NUPSE Local 1000. In order to make the merger

stick, a series of loopholes – in the kind of different

ial rates for provincial unions and the right to apply for

servicing rebates – had to be devised to satisfy those as so far unwilling to pay a higher price to develop the central capacities of the coupling. These escape clauses

placed serious financial and cultural limitations on

the extent to which Little ’ s centralizing vision could be implemented, and therefore, in his view, had to be overwhelm. however, divisions over the fusion terms served to mask the actual consensus which had emerged over the type of union desir

ed. Whether centralist or decentralist, nearly everyone wanted a

professionalized business union capable of providing a high floor of servicing to and on behalf of the membership. This is unsurprising given that, in t

he 1960s, unions with ranks of expert cadres were seen as

the most capable of dealing with their increasingly

complex employers. Public sector employers,

particularly at the municipal level, continued to adopt

more bureaucratized methods of dealing with their

workforces, putting ‘ amateur ’ coupling leadership in questi

on. Moreover, CUPE, as the new kid on the block

286 1

It is convention in CUPE documents and discourse to refer to the

head office of the union (and by extension its staff) as “the

National ” or “ the National Office ” ( with

capital letters). I will adopt that prac

tice here when referring to CUPE’s national

institutional apparatus. and hampered by an inferiority complex throw on it by

private sector unions who did not think that a union

of janitors had what it took to be a ‘ real union ’, wa

s particularly keen to consolidate a highly professional

servicing apparatus. While everyone wanted more service, there wa

s no agreement over how such servicing should

be implemented in CUPE. A host of issues had to be

confronted here. First was the definition of a

standard of servicing that everyone, in the interests of fairness and equality, could expect to receive. Some locals, given the higher wages and skill levels of their memberships, had been able to set up identical advanced self-servicing arrangements, to which the mem

bers and their leadership had become accustomed and

which defined the standard they immediately expected from

CUPE. Locals of lower-waged workers, who had been

unable to finance such servicing on their own, immediately relied on the National

and the redistributed financial

might of larger, wealthier locals to provide that south

upport. However, variations in local dues bases and the

gloomy per head set at fusion meant that CUPE could not afford to provide ‘ gold standard ’ avail to every local. Tensions soon emerged about whether the Nati

onal Office should provide only the lowest common

denominator of service, or whether they should besides

subsidize the higher levels of service demanded by the

larger autonomist locals. This definition of standar

d servicing was further complicated by the growing

diverseness of employee groups, industrial or occupat

ional contexts, and collective bargaining relationships

within the union ’ s ranks. CUPE had to determine how

to service groups with different needs and wants

while preserving a smell of equality amongst the mem

bership, particularly as inequality could have serious

implications for different membership groups ’ capac

ity to engage in the union’s democratic process. As

well, struggles emerged over which level of the union – the National Office or the locals – should define and direct that servicing. here the long-standing t

ensions between centralists and autonomists defined the

287 2

It is also convention in CUPE documents to capitalize the titl

es of union officers like National President, which I will adopt

here.

argue over whether service should be delivered

by locally-employed business agents or staff

representatives paid and allocated by the National. In early words, the modern union still had to sort out how much and what kind servicing should be delivered and by whom, which would inevitably be articula

ted in terms of the central-local tension and the

counterposition of the requirements

of effectiveness with that of democracy. These questions would have

to be addressed immediately after the fusion, as the

Union was hit with a wave of decentralizing pressure

from locals seeking rebates, which, if not reso

lved, would place serious financial constraints on

implementing the vision which motivated CUPE ’ sulfur creation. however, the political conflicts were not so simple

as national versus local, for this would presume

some oneness at the top. alternatively, the particular ra

solution of NUPE-NUPSE rivalries reached in the merger

procedure led to more quite than less factionalism, wh

ich came to plague the National Office. The merging

of two once break leadership groups resulted

in dysfunctional conflicts based on a complex stew of

personalities and individual power-seeking, commitment

to customary practices from the pre-existing

organizations, and deep ideological divisions. however, fa

ctions were also divided over the particular way

that a centralize service model should be implem

ented. Little pursued a more corporate version of

centralization, with the National President ’ south office clearly on peak and in command, the National Secretary- treasurer a mere bookkeeper, and the National Execut

ive Board a symbolic gesture to representative

democracy.

Others like Rintoul, though agreeing with the nec

essity of centralization for efficiency and

effectiveness, desired more democracy amongst the elect, with power shared by the senior leadership. Some members of the Executive Board preferred a moment

re regionalized set-up, in which the National paid for

programmes but the peasant divisions determined

how to implement them in ways suited to their

regionally particular needs. As well, though elect leader

s grew increasingly suspicious of a staff-led union

288 over the course of CUPE ’ s beginning four years, such

resistance did not signal a commitment to grass-roots

unionism either. Rather, staff were to be the mec

hanism through which central control could be maintained

by the elective leadership. This entail that elect

ed and appointed officials would also be locked in disputes

over precisely who was in charge. The factions of the elect leadership wanted to

consolidate power at the top, and moments of

irregular oneness were forged amongst the top officers, parti

cularly in the face of financial crisis in 1965. At

this moment, it was possible to win an increase to the per

capita to fuel the nationalization of local business

agents and the expansion of National services. Howe

ver, given the divisions among them about how a

centralized model should actually function, they c

ould never muster enough unity to prevent limits being

placed on this centralization. Autonomist locals we

re consistently successful at placing barriers to

centralization and to the unhampered use of executive prisoner of war

er. The largest of the locals still retained the

capacity to use the non-payment of their per caput as

a political tool to exact greater autonomy or more

services from the National, again blocking the comprehensive examination

lete centralization and rationalization of decision-

making about the allotment of resources. Hence,

even though there were centralizing trends, there was

never to be a clear post-merger victory for degree centigrade

entralizing forces in the union. However, an important

motion remained : was it enough to block cent

ralization in order to guarantee democracy?

Adding to the confusion was the way that both nat

ional and local leaderships had of reducing to the

simple question of money the very complex issues of how to implement the service model of unionism in an fabulously divers and growing constitution, even though

this would fuel the autonomist pressures which

placed limits on the union ’ second finances in the first plac

e. Convention debates about how much and what kind

of service was need were systematically displaced by

the simple equations of ‘higher per capita = strong

union ’ and ‘ higher per head = less local anesthetic autonomy ’. In

treating these debates this way, little room was left

to explore whether a union could be strong in a non-c

entralized way, or if it was possible to have more

289 centralized services in a way that preserved democratic control and accountability. In the immediate post- amalgamation years, CUPE consolidated a course in its political culture in which questions of structure and baron were displaced by debates about per caput and financi

ng. Rather than focussing more directly on the

merits of a particular proposal in terms of its im

pact on how the union should be organized internally, the

doubt of cost was always ascendant in these debates,

leading to serious confusion and lack of clarity in

CUPE about the nature, merits and

flaws of its own structure.

“A Dozen Praying Mantises”: National Office Factionalism and Local Discontent, 1963-65

The newly union faced two problems immediately upon it

s formation: the intense factionalism which

plagued the National Office, and the strong wave of decentralizing pressures emanating from groups of early NUPE locals. Both situations were the direct

products of the political compromises struck in the

fusion process, compromises which were clearly

unstable even in the short-term. First, the need to

fashion a amalgamation of ‘ equals ’ entail that elected and

appointed positions in the National Office were evenly

allocated to representatives of the two parent unions. however, ‘ equality ’ did not translate into harmony. Partisans on both sides soon set to consolidating their positions and expanding their world power, which cursorily resulted in a deadlock as neither group was able to

establish clear dominance over the whole organization.

Despite the fact that both leadership groups favoured far centralization of the union, the infighting amongst them made it impossible to

move forward together on such an agenda.

second, in order to head off a far-flung revolt amongst NUPE ’ mho larger and more autonomist locals, per capita tax was set at a relatively first gear

level, and the Constitution provided the possibility of per

caput rebates to

all

locals, and not merely those with provincial structures. It was not long before locals

were testing this component of the Constitution. In lighter

of the centralizers’ disarray, autonomist forces in the

locals, districts councils and peasant divisions had much political distance in which to manoeuvre, and were
290 3

Susan Crean’s biography of Grace Hartman, for instance, makes t

he clash of personalities the particular focus of her treatment

of CUPE ’ s early years. able to bring some otherwise centralist NUPE leader

s to their aid in common opposition to the NUPSE

leadership. These forces, concentrated in british

Columbia and Alberta locals but also represented in

lake ontario by local 43, sought per head rebates

and threatened to undo the new union’s fragile financial

stability and political one. In other words, the

personal stakes and conflicts, political agendas, partisan

loyalties and structural features

of the union combined to create a cr

isis atmosphere during CUPE’s first

two years. The available solutions all seemed

to point in the direction of disintegration.

much of the attention paid to CUPE ’ s first ten

has centred on the difficulties experienced in the

union ’ s National Office.

Indeed, the seemingly endless cycle of

mistrust, paranoia, gossip and mutual

sabotage is fascinating, and possibly even titillating to therefore

me. Without a doubt, the consolidation of the new

merged structure was an intensely conf

lictual process, and a major aspect of the difficulties in the National

position concerned the kinship between the two full-

time national officers. However, this personal

battle took home in and was profoundly shaped by the

union’s deep structural contradictions. As such,

the common ground between Little and Rintoul in terms of

their vision of the structure and function of public

sector unionism was obscured by their contest and deoxythymidine monophosphate

heir pragmatic articulation with different forces in

the union. Despite the affirmative talk of cooperation at

the 1963 Merger Convention, Little and Rintoul each

desired to have meaning master over the devel

opment of the union, desires which were mutually

exclusive and which finally created “ intolerable condi

tions” in the National Office. This conflict was

attributed at the time and in holocene discussions to

differences in leadership and administrative styles.

however, underlying these differences, Little and Rintoul

actually had much in common in terms of their

vision of an effective and mighty union. As we have seen, both were centralizers in their respective unions, both were committed to the professionalizati

on of union activity and impatient with those who

291 4

Crean, 99.

Ibid.

Ibid., 115.

challenged or counterbalanced their power. The problem

was that they each desired personal control over

CUPE ; Little, as National President and therefore ‘ natura

lly’ identified as the leader, was unwilling to share and

Rintoul became increasingly resentful of his diminish condition. The Merger Agreement facilitated these conflicts, as it did not explicitly specify the post-merger distribution of ability and authority. The relationshi

p between the two top officers was clearly intended by

the amalgamation committees to be one of equality : both officers were to be paid the same sum of money, and each was to report directly to the NEB rather t

han one to the other. In practice, however, there was

minimal clarity around lines

of authority or status.

This vagueness was likely not troubling to Little, w

ho clearly saw the terms of the compromise as

sufficient to get the fresh administration rolling but ultimate

ly temporary. Ambiguity provided space for Little to

claim much ability to himself in line with his opinion

s on effective union structures and the kind of control to

which he had become accustomed in NUPSE. As Crean

described it, the National President “showed little

appetite for consultation or discussion with anyone early

than his Executive Assistant, Francis Eady … To

his way of think, the president was the CEO of

the corporation and the secr

etary-treasurer simply an

administrative policeman. He tended to act on his own and

Rintoul would learn of meetings when the bills came

in. ”

Little’s leadership style was very personalistic, centralized, and seemingly unconcerned with procedure

or consensus. He was increasingly possessive of “ heat content

is” union, which reinforced a focus on maintaining his

own personal exponent. He late admitted to the precedence he placed on his own primacy : “ I was prepared to workplace with whoever came along deoxyadenosine monophosphate long as I was at the top of the pile. ”

Little’s approach did not foster the

build up of newfangled loyalties either. He kept track of who opposed him, and held a stew .
292 7

Ibid., 99.

NUPE / NUPSE, “Merger Agreement”, March 30, 1963: 4. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 4, File 1]

Crean, 100.

Ibid., 100, 104. It is interesting that in his autobiography, J

ohn MacMillan, the future National Director of Organization, ra

ther

unproblematically asserts that “ All these appointments balanc

ed things off to create a uni

ted CUPE” (MacMillan, 133).

Rintoul had different ideas about the relations

hip between the National President and National

Secretary Treasurer, or at least between

this

particular pair of leaders. “I never considered myself second

in dominate as national secretary-tr

easurer and I made that quite clearly and concisely understood. Little

and I were going in as equals so far as status and authority were concerned. ” Rintoul ’ randomness views were much more in line with the spirit of the Merger Agreem

ent, not least because it was the one thing preventing his

quick demotion to a mere administrator. In other words,

Rintoul wasn’t particularly interested in promoting

a different vision of the relationship between leaders and

members, in devolving power to the rest of the

NEB or to members more generally. rather, he was prim

arily wanting to share in the power of leadership,

specially as he was “ used to being in care of things at NUPE. ” Given their oppose personal interests, and despite their coarse commitment to a firm National

Office, “[i]t wasn’t long before the two men fell

to accusing each other openly of being obstructionist

and difficult, even paranoid, each blaming the other’s

staff at every turn. ”

Following the conduct of their two peak officers, the blend staff remained highly divided according to their allegiances to the early organizations, despite

the explicit injunction in the Merger Agreement to

put aside loyalties to the rear unions in favor of construction CUPE.

While the intention of the Merger

agreement was to balance office in the National Offi

ce by taking equal numbers of staff from each of the

parent unions, this scheme ’ south consequence was “

like putting a dozen praying mantises in a jar.”

A “Maginot

Line ” existed down the center of the position and sta

ffers operated in a “climate of gossip and character

assassination. ”

In general, the NUPSE side accused NUPE of incompetence, especially where financial

293 11

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, De

cember 12-14, 1963: 5. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 11]

Ibid.; S. Little, National President’s

Report to the CUPE National Executive B

oard, November 21-22, 1964: 5. CUPE Fonds

[ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 1 ] 13

S. Little, National President’s Report to

the CUPE National Executive Board, Marc

h 8-10, 1964: 5. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG

28, I234, Vol. 11, File 12 ] ; and November 21-22, 1964 : 5.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 1]

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 6-7, 1965: 11.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4]

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, De

cember 12-14, 1963: 5. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 12]

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 6-7, 1965: 11.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4]

matters were concerned, while the NUPE staff chromium

iticized the NUPSE lack of regard for democratic

procedure and regard for local anesthetic autonomy. extremely poor relations thus reigned between elec

ted officers and National staff, and particularly

with those staff originating from the other union.

Little was already advising the CUPE NEB of the

inadequate flush of communication between officers and

department heads at their first real meeting in

December 1963.

The leadership failed to establish regular

meetings between the National Officers and

Department Heads, and of the staff in general, and what meetings did occur merely aired quite than resolved grievances.

Little vaguely referred to problems with “

lines of communication” and adapting to the

new administrative procedures designed to cope with the needs of a larger constitution.

Rintoul,

however, described the dynamics in more concrete term

s: staffers from NUPSE were particularly resentful

of having to submit requests and expense reports to Ri

ntoul, were even “defiant in ignoring directives and

circulars ” coming from the National Secretary-Treasur

er’s office, and would go to Little when their requests

were denied.

Former NUPE staffers were similarly reluct

ant to be managed by Little. There were also

ambiguous references to staffers acting without the

approval of the two elected officers, and in effect

setting National policy, which Little

was particularly committed to stopping.

In other words, it was lines of

authority equally a lot as lines of communication that were at issue. While both Little and Rintoul expressed frustration

at the situation, with Rintoul reluctant to

discipline NUPSE partisans “ for concern of civil war ”,

and a shared desire for acceptance of the new office

hierarchy, their actual behavior was more contradictor

y. Their personal power interests led them to foster

294 17

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, April 2-3, 1966: 3-5. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 9]

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes,

October 22-23, 1966: 6. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 12]

The Public Employee

9 (3), Fall 1988: 15.

the lengthiness of these factions in the National Office in the hopes of building a base strong adequate to contest exponent for the entire organization. Littl

e in particular used a double standard for judging the

transgressions of National staffers. A demonstration of Little ’ s own willingness to disr

egard the functional specializations of National

staff was his allotment to Francis Eady, preferably than

to Director of Organization Bill Buss, responsibility for

two major organizing campaigns at Hydro Quebec and the

CBC. After the nationalization of hydro-electric

generation by the Quebec government in 1962, the province sought the

establishment of three large

bargaining units for the stallion work force in 1966.

CUPE already represented some Quebec hydro workers,

who had previously been affiliated with NUPSE and had worked for one of the more than 80 electricity providers that had been merged. The CUPE NEB reje

cted a no-raiding pact with the CSN, who also

represented some hydro proletarian groups, and began, under E

ady’s coordination, a massive campaign to win

documentation of the stallion Hydro Quebec work force.

Although Eady’s bilingualism and historic connections

with the ( former NUPSE ) Quebec Region staff made him

a logical participant in the campaign, he reported

directly to Little preferably than Buss about the campaign.

In the end, CUPE won the three bargaining units –

now CUPE Locals 1500, 2000, and 957 – along with

5500 new members at a cost of $120,000.

Similarly,

when the CBC workers, who had attempted to join NUPSE in the early 1960s, made renewed efforts to join CUPE in 1966, Eady was put in cathexis of the campaign ’ randomness coordination.

These choices reflected Little and

Eady ’ randomness preference for massive campaigns and

also allowed Little to circumvent Buss.

little ’ second conflict with the early NUPE staffers t

ook a most extreme and pernicious form in his red-

baiting of Gil Levine, CUPE ’ s new Director of Research

. Little’s reports to the National Executive Board on

the activities of National Departments reveal the barel

y concealed tension in that relationship. While other

295 20

S. Little, National President’s Report to

the CUPE National Executive Board, June

4-5, 1964: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG

28, I234, Vol. 11, File 14 ] 21

S. Little, National President’s Report

to the CUPE National Executive Board,

November 21-22, 1964: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 1 ] 22

Crean, 100.

R. Rintoul, National Secretary-Treasurer

’s Report to the CUPE National Executiv

e Board, November 21, 1964: 11. CUPE

Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 1 ] 24

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes,

September 26, 1963: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 11]

departments were “ doing fine ” in Little ’ s assessment, the Research Department was systematically “ struggling under the increased load of the compound organizations. ”

Little often could not bring himself to

refer to the Director at all, as

he did when talking of other departments.

Behind this tense public face was

an ongoing search for evidence of Levine ’ second Communist ties, in the hopes of driving him out of the organization. Rumours of clothe and dagger meetings

with the RCMP and suspicions of surveillance

fostered even more distrust. little once took Rint

oul to a meeting at RCMP Headquarters in Ottawa,

where they ‘ revealed ’ to him Levine ’ s ‘ insurgent ’ activities and contended that he was still associated with the Communist Party. Rintoul challenged the soundne

ss of the allegations, and the RCMP officer admitted

that they could not bring what they had to court.

As far as Rintoul was concerned, the matter was closed,

but the incidental and the inkling of surveillance tu

rned an already “foul atmosphere toxic”. Moreover,

little and his loyalists would not allow the return to go away.

National Office factionalism raged aboard an

equally dangerous political problem emerging out

of the fusion compromise : the dissatisfaction of a silicon

gnificant number of former NUPE locals with the per

caput structure of the new union. This discontent

was expressed in a number a ways. The drama of Local

43 ‘s die from the 1963 founding convention was the visible

tip of a much larger iceberg: twenty-two locals

had in fact refused to join the new union.

These locals were concentrated in Western Canada, particularly

in British Columbia where regional and local forms of

servicing were long entrenched, and in the municipal

sector. local 21, Regina ’ s outside municipal workers,

immediately notified the NEB of their formal decision

to disaffiliate from CUPE.

Other locals were less definitive, opti

ng instead to withhold per capita tax as a

296 25

CUPE Locals 387, 389, 394, 409, 561, and 718, letter to CUPE

National Executive Board, October 29, 1963. CUPE Fonds

[ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 11 ] 26

S. Little, “National President

’s Report to the CUPE National Executive Board on visit to Western and

Prairie Regions January

1964 ”, February 19, 1964 : 2-7. CUPE Fonds [ NAC

Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 14]

Ibid., 2.

means of negotiating lower fiscal responsibilities or higher

levels of servicing. In the case of a group of

municipal and educate board locals in the Greater Vanc

ouver area, this refusal to pay per capita was

accompanied by a courtly request that the NEB use it

s powers under Article 7.6 of the new constitution to

grant rebates in stead of servicing.

The basis of CUPE’s formation wa

south being tested right out of the gate. This challenge to CUPE ’ s one was so significant

that Little and Buss, now CUPE’s Director of

Organizing, spend ten-spot days in January 1964 investigati

ng the roots of the disc

ontent in Western Canada.

This trip was both a probability to assess the autonomists ’ complaints and an opportunity for Little to connect with the former NUPE membership in British Co

lumbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba. Their

meetings with local, district council and provincial divi

sion officials revealed two distinct but related bases to

the conflict. On the one hand, many locals were x

pressing grievances accumulated from their time in

NUPE : many of them wanted service, but had eit

her not received much from the NUPE structure or had

been dissatisfied with what was provided. This was

particularly true of British Columbia locals, who had

become quite unhappy with the serve provided by the public relations

ovincial division. These locals were particularly

trapped in the self-reinforcing cycle of autonomy : they remained committed to the staff they had hired to fill the servicing col, and they had fiddling religion in the capacity or willingness of the central coupling to provide the kinds of confirm they wanted.

They clung to this position despite the fact that their actions were

undermining some of the fiscal conditions which would have contributed towards better national services. The different arrangements of Locals 180

and 1000, the loss of grants under the new CUPE, and

the slowly yard at which national service was being

set up due to financial constraints all aggravated the

position.

On the other hand, some locals, particularly

in Regina, were committed to autonomy per se. In

297 28

Ibid., 8.

R. Rintoul, National Secretary-Treasurer

’s Report to the CUPE National Executiv

e Board, November 21, 1964: 11-12. CUPE

Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 2 ] 30

R. Rintoul, Financial Report, November 1964. CUPE Fonds

[NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 2]

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 9-10, 1964: 12.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 14]

Ibid., 11.

other words,

control

over servicing, and not just its availability, was at issue.

As such, simply increasing

awareness of the kinds of services now available through the national structure, which Little and Buss spent much time doing, would never satisfy everyone. The newly CUPE NEB was thus immediately confr

onted with a serious dilemma, and the political

and fiscal implications of a move in any directi

on were unfavourable. In his reports on the union’s

finances, Rintoul made clear that these locals ’ wit

hholding of dues had dealt CUPE “a financial blow which

seriously curtailed [ its ] activities ” and prevented

it from reaching the 85,

000 members anticipated and

budgeted upon.

These unexpected financial constraints had cont

ributed to CUPE’s deficit position, which

at mid-1964 stand at closely $ 91,000.

In other words, the “great plans” spoken of through the merger

process and at the founding convention had to be scal

ed back and postponed, and further deferral of these

promises risked spreading the discontented and claims for per caput rebates. It was distinctly important to get the hold-out locals into CUPE, but the versatile methods of doing therefore seemed baffling vitamin a well. not only would the rebates demanded monetary value $ 34,000, it was dawning on the NEB that any award made under Article 7.6 would unleas

h a deluge of applications from other locals which,

up to now, had been sitting on their particularist demands in the interests of oneness.

Grace Hartman, now

Ontario Division president of the united states and CUPE Regional Vice-Presi

dent, pointed out that self-servicing locals “would

not neglect deals at this time ”, and that even sm

all locals would band together to hire a business agent

and then seek concessions from the National Office. “ Breaking the trace at this stagecoach ”, warned Hartman, “ could mean the disintegration of our whole union. ”

Given the political impossibility of granting per capita

rebates, Regional Vice-President from Alberta Nap M

ilroy rightly demanded to know what Article 7.6

298 33

Ibid.

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, S

eptember 26, 1963: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 11]

S. Little, “National President

’s Report to the CUPE National Executive Board on visit to Western and

Prairie Regions, January

1964 ”, 10. 36

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 8-10, 1964: 12. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 14]

actually meant : why not jettison such a provision if

no local who applied for a rebate would ever actually

receive one ?

Little and Rintoul’s common response to Local 43’s exit from the union was now revealed as

disingenuous : both had argued that CUPE should not run a

fter them offering deals, as the Constitution

spelled out the procedure for appealing per capita tax.

however, that procedure was about meaningless under salute conditions. little ’ sulfur interpretation of the ancestor of the trouble

pointed to a different solution. For him, locals

merely desire services, whether they realized it or

not, and had to be convinced that the “more or less

centrally directed program which we are advocating ” tungsten

ould be capable of providing them. The local officers

were “ misguided ” and irrational in their inability to see why decreasing “ the duplication of effort by a a lot more align and uniform set about ” was in their

interests. This he blamed on NUPE’s legacy, since

“ it was in the past necessary [ for locals ] to group toget

her in almost any way that they could because there

was not a National Union or rear administration to which they could look. ”

This sideswipe at NUPE

revealed short ’ mho incomprehension of the inner dynami

cs of the other union and of the fact that suspicion

of central control condition itself was profoundly rooted in some quarte

rs. For Little, such concerns were merely “empire-

construct ”, a regress and selfish attitude to be proven ill-timed by providing the most effective national services potential. It didn ’ t hurt that such

developments would also build his own empire.

In the absence of any other feasible solutions,

the NEB thus voted at their March 1964 meeting not

to consider or grant any rebate appeals until after thymine

he 1965 Convention. Instead, the short-term strategy

was to undermine the footing of some discontented by making “ every effort to provide extra services where necessary and financially potential. ”

This risked exposing Article 7.6 as mere window dressing, and, given

299 37

Ibid.

S. Little, “National President

’s Report to the CUPE National Executive Board on visit to Western and

Prairie Regions January

1964 ”, 2-3. 39

Local 1000, “Precis of Dues Brief to CUPE”, January 1965: 1.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 3]

the unlike bases of discontented, might not satisfy all

of the claimant locals. Moreover, the financial means

were just not there to raise servicing to the po

litically required level. A longer-term solution would

therefore have to include revisiting one of the thousand

ger compromise’s key components, the 85-cent per

caput tax. Changing the per head tax would irritate not only

the autonomist locals who felt its current level

was already excessive. Such a scheme besides ri

sked provoking the two provincial unions, Locals 180 and

1000, who felt they were being wrongly held responsib

le for the union’s financial difficulties and internal

disunity. Bill Black, Local 180 business agent and immediately

CUPE General Vice-President, complained that the

provincial unions “ were being made into the whipping boys. ”

Indeed, Little’s report on his Western tour

indicate how “ disturbing ” the “ particular per head

arrangements” were to the BC and Alberta locals, who

attend only unfair advantages for the two provincial unions.

However, neither provincial union would accept

incrimination for the union ’ s deficits, nor would they count

enance an increase in the portion of per capita payable

to the National Office. In January 1965, local anesthetic 1000

attacked the autonomists’ use of their particular

situation to justify rebate demands with a brief to the N

EB. In it, the local reiterated a justification for its

discrete status as a provincial union in terms of

the geographic scope and multiplicity of occupations they

represented, reminded the leadership

not only of the lack of demands made by the local on the National,

but besides of the servicing aid they provi

ded the National on top of per capita, and emphasized its

resistance to any increase in per head for peasant unions.

Whatever the legitimacy of this perspective,

the fiscal and political power represented by

Locals 180 and 1000 meant that the solution to the

autonomist locals ’ problem would not come from eliminat

ing the deals with the provincial unions. The NEB

300 40

Pastorius was a member of the former

NUPE’s Windsor Municipal Workers Local 543,

and a General Vice-President since the

amalgamation convention. 41

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes,

March 9-10, 1964: 8-9. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 11, File 14]

would thus have to provide a coherent explanation for why special per caput arrangements would be left integral, but not extended to self-servicing locals. In the interim, other conflicts over the lo

cus of power were emerging between the National

Office and provincial divisions and locals, whic

h were clearly bound up with the intra-leadership

factionalism. NUPE loyalists on the NEB, many of whom

were also leaders of the provincial divisions, were

increasingly articulating their resistance to Little and his

followers Eady and Hikl in decentralist or regionalist

terms. Given that Little was unapologetically centralist

and easily identified with the national union, it fell to

those like Grace Hartman, B

ill Black, Gordon Pastorius,

and even Bob Rintoul to defend those levels of

the CUPE social organization whose autonomy and oscilloscope were being curtailed. Three issues revealed these dynamics. First, in early 1964, Hartman reported to the NEB the allegation that Little had overruled the right of the Pa

rry Sound Hospital workers’ local to decide on if and

when it would take fall upon action. little denied he

had attempted to interfere with the local’s autonomy;

preferably he had, with Rintoul ’ s agreement, merely attack

ed to get the local to delay strike action and submit

to conciliation at the request of the Ontario

Department of Labour, and blamed the misunderstanding on

“ bad communication ” with the Niagara Falls staff.

however, the mind that National Officers would intervene at all in local bargain was anathema to t

he former NUPE locals; Little’s actions did breach

previously understand conventions and raised the apparition of an ever-wider National charm on local affairs. second, the withdrawal of local 43 from CUPE praseodymium

ovoked a hard line response from most of the

NEB, including both Little and Rintoul, but Hartman argued that since the Toronto District Council and the Ontario Division had to live with the concrete outcomes of these decisions, they should have some say in
301 42

Ibid., 7.

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes,

June 4-5, 1964: 11-12. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 1]

B. Martin, letter to S. Little, January 29, 1965: 1. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 16, File 13]

S. Little, letter to B. Martin, February 10, 1965: 2.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 16, File 13]

how the situation was managed. local anesthetic 43 had the c

apacity to harm the bargaining position of other

municipal locals in Toronto, and therefore particular local interests were besides at stake.

While Hartman was not

advocating sweeping borrowing of Local 43 ‘s decentralist

position, her comments pointed to the difficulty in

balancing national prerogatives and priorities with tho

e of the provincial divisions and raised the question

of which interests should come first. Since the Ontari

o Division was much more concerned with unity rather

than finances, they suggested that Local 43 ‘s retroactive

dues be waived if they would reaffiliate at the 85-

cent per caput level. however, Little was unvarnis

hed in his response to Local 43’s delegation to the NEB:

the Board would make decisions based on

National

problems and interests.

last, the Ontario Division besides came into vitamin c

onflict with NUPSE-led national departments over the

proportional province of peasant divisions in thyroxine

he areas of education and legislative briefs. Beginning in

early 1965, the Ontario Division executive began to stak

e out its territory and to criticize the quality of

servicing from the Legislative Department and the attitude

of its Director, Mario Hikl. In January, Ontario

Division Secretary Bruce Martin wrote to Little, information

rming him that “the Ontario Division shall decide on all

matters of policy relating to legislation and department of education in

Ontario, and any other matters not in conflict with

the National Constitution. ”

Little’s reply was, again, undisguised in

its centralism: while coordination with

the Division was surely desirable, they did not, in

his view, have the authority to make decisions over

education. For Little, such a read of the constitu

tion would lead to the “unthinkable”: that CUPE would

“ become a loosely constructed feder

ation of provincial divisions.”

The letter only fanned the flames, and

Hartman and Bill Baker, Regional Vice-President and Loc

al 1 leader, were soon complaining at the NEB

not merely of the quality of Legislative

Department briefs, but also of Hik

l’s (and Little’s) presumption that,

302 46

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 6-7, 1965: 2, 17-18. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4]

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes,

June 4-5, 1964: 5. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 1]

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 6-7, 1965: 11.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4]

where the National and Division conflicted over the approac

h to take vis-à-vis provincial labour legislation,

the National ’ randomness platform should prevail.

The NEB began their preparations for the 1965 Conv

ention in the midst of these unresolved

conflicts over where the locus of restraint would rest in

the new CUPE. While some of the locals withholding

per caput had returned to CUPE with the addition of

staff and the setting up of a regional office in

Vancouver, the outside municipal workers ’ locals

in Vancouver, Regina and Toronto continued in their

refusal to relinquish autonomy.

Given the plus response of most hold-out locals to increased serve, little felt empowered in his pursuit of a centralist

response to decentralizing pressures. However, such

moves risked exacerbating the very problems they were aimed at resolving : a brawny dues increase to pay for a meaning expansion in the National Office staff – and control – could generate another wave of per caput strikes and fuel autonomist sentiment even furt

her. Rintoul was understati

ng the situation in early

1965 when he said to the NEB that “ there was a bunch of

work to be done yet in order to consolidate the

fusion. ”

II.

Holding It All Together: The 1965 Convention

CUPE ’ second 1965 Convention in Vancouver was frankincense a ma

jor test of whether the merger would stick,

and would have a meaning shock on the direction in which the marriage would develop. As the beginning opportunity to alter the terms of the amalgamation agreemen

t, the Convention would inevitably involve a replay of

the ten thousand of issues never amply resolved in the run-up to CUPE ’ s formation. For both centralizers and autonomists dissatisfied with the necessary compromises, this conventionality was a key opportunity to mould the union according to their own concerns. CUPE ’ s

formal unity encompassed a series of competing and

303 49

R. Rintoul, “Workpaper on Finances”, Marc

h 1965. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 3]; CUPE, National

Executive Board minutes, March 6-7, 1965 : 6-11. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4 ] 50

CUPE, National Executive Board,

Setting a Course

, April 1, 1965: 7. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 8, File 4]

mutually exclusive interests, and finding a more

durable balance between autonomist locals, provincial

unions, the demands placed by increase on the servic

ing apparatus, and Little’s expansionist and centralist

vision of the union would be no comfortable tax. Which flat of the union would develop and exert control remained a contentious issue, but was supplanted by a focus on how to secure the fiscal means to provide an effective and centralized service machinery. thus, in March 1965, the NEB approved Convention proposals calling for a significant expansion in national service capacitance, which would be puerto rico

esented to the members the following month as

Setting a

Course

The stated objectives of the plan included stab

ilization of finances at a level which would

eliminate deficits and allow for expansion and the accumula

tion of reserves, as well as the provision of a

“ uniform standard of service in all areas. ”

Central to this scheme was therefore a significant per capita tax increase, from 85 cents to $ 1.50, a level higher than the highest ever proposed during the amalgamation negotiations, but equivalent to NUPSE ’ mho per head anterior

to the merger. This per capita would also be

uniformly applied, so that explicit character to

the special per capita level paid by Locals 180 and 1000

would no long appear in the Constitution. however,

such a move was not intended to eliminate the

eminence between provincial and local unions, whic

h was defended at length. Instead, the NEB would

negociate immediately with provincial unions to

determine the level of servicing and per capita;

Setting a Course

specified a web per caput of 60 cents for provincial

unions for the time being. The proposals also called for

all local business agents hired anterior to November 22

,1964, to be taken onto National staff, a move long

favoured by Little and Eady but which had not found its

way into the Merger Agreement. The nationalization

of local staff would be part of a significant expansion

in the numbers of servicing representatives from 28 in

304 51

Ibid., 3, 5-6.

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, S

eptember 17-23, 1965: 3. CUPE Fonds [NAC A

cc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 6].

The apparent cause given for holding a

closed session was the “activities of a gr

oup established in another hotel”, namely t

Metro Vancouver Coordinating Committee wh

ich, led by breakaway Local 15, was

attempting to undermine support for the hefty

per head increase. 53

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 6-7, 1965: 8.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4]

S. Little, President’s Address, CUPE, 1965 Convention Proceedings: 2. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 8, File 9]

1965 to 51. finally,

Setting a Course

would see a national monthly public

ation mailed to the home of every

CUPE penis.

It is far easier to chart the arguments put forward by the supporters of

Setting a Course

, not least

because the NEB voted to hold the convention debate

on the document in a session closed to the public

and the media.

As a result, details of the arguments for and against the proposal were never published in

CUPE ’ second 1965 Convention proceedings. rather, the pro-

centralization speeches of the National President

and National Secretary-Treasurer are

front and centre. While this speaks to the power of leaders to shape

their constitution ’ s historic record, the substanc

e and source of dissenting opinions can still be gleaned

from Convention resolutions which were offered as alternatives to

Setting a Course

The plan ’ second proponents, and not least little and Rintoul, emphasized that a strong union was by definition well funded, controlled and c

oordinated from the centre. Little and Rintoul were able to reach a

irregular one around their shared centralism ( heat content

inting at what might have been had they been able to

place these common concerns before considerations of

personal power in the long term). Little made his

exemplar of unionism clear to the NEB and the Convent

ion delegates: “Anything constructive … that was

provided in the Labour Movement came as a resultant role of triiodothyronine

he efforts of strong central bodies such as the Steel,

Auto, [ and ] Packinghouse ” workers ’ unions.

These unions had “faced up to the responsibility of

reasonably high dues and an adequate per head to the cardinal organization. ”

If CUPE failed to follow this
305 55

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, Marc

h 6-7, 1965: 8; CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4] S. Little,

President ’ s Address, CUPE, 1965 Convention Proceedings : 2. CUPE Fonds [ NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 8, File 9 ] 56

R. Rintoul, National Secretary-Treasurer

’s Report, CUPE, 1965 Convention Proceedi

ngs: 12. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28,

I234, Vol. 8, File 9 ] 57

CUPE, National Executive Board,

Setting a Course

, 3.

R. Rintoul, National Secretary-Treasur

er’s Report, CUPE, 1965 Convention Proceedings: 12. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28,

I234, Vol. 8, File 9 ] 59

CUPE, National Executive Board minutes, March 6-7, 1965: 6.

CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28, I234, Vol. 12, File 4]

R. Rintoul, National Secretary-Treasur

er’s Report, CUPE 1965 Convention Proceedings: 12. CUPE Fonds [NAC Acc. MG 28,

I234, Vol. 8, File 9 ] model, not only would it remain “ a bunch of independents ”

, but it would also never “play a leading role in

the canadian Labour scenery ” as the unite force amongst all public employees.

For his part, Rintoul focussed on the more pragmat

ic and internal benefits of the plan. The union

had been forced to put off many “ worthwhile proposals ” due to lack of funds, and had neglected CUPE ’ second “ first objective ”, that is to organize public employees.

Furthermore, the nationalization of staff would permit

better coordination, specialization, a more equitable distribution of the cost and provision of service, and the “ elimination … of clash ” and demands fo

r rebates “arising from ‘double taxation’.”

Business agents

themselves would be better off on the National staff, for

they would “be able to use [their] abilities to greater

advantage and would acquire broader feel as a solution

of [their] direct contact with other locals and

with other field representatives. ”

Quebec Regional Vice-President Roger Lampron pointed to an even

more political benefit of the plan : it would remove

the basis for “empire building by some business

agents. ”

little, Rintoul and other centralists besides found

it necessary to replay the arguments about the

nature and condition of provincial unions which had c

onsumed so much of the merger discussions. Rintoul

reiterated not lone the basis of peasant unions ’ dispute from local unions with business agents, but besides argued that such