Saturday, December 18, 2021

Myanmar’s Spring Revolution: a history from below

Women factory workers took to the streets and catalysed
 a mass movement

Ko Maung
15 December 2021, 7.00am

Anti-coup protestors in Myanmar |
Kaung Zaw Hein/Sipa USA/Alamy Stock Photo. All rights reserved

A year before the February 2021 military coup in Myanmar, striking workers from the Tai Yi shoe factory protested in front of their workplace to demand an increase in their daily wages. To raise their spirits, the workers sang the revolutionary anthem, ‘Thway Thitsar’.

In Myanmar’s Spring Revolution, the mass movement against the 2021 coup, ‘Thway Thitsar’ could be heard all over the country. “The present is critical, brothers and sisters. We must have solidarity.” A regular feature of workers’ protests, the anthem had now become part of the revolutionary movement. I say this not to highlight the song itself, but to call attention to the history of worker organising and struggle in Myanmar – a history that laid the groundwork for the Spring Revolution. Simply put, had workers not previously organised unions inside their factories, the protests that catalysed the Spring Revolution would not have happened. The February 6 protests ignited the anger of people across the country and led to nation-wide protests in the days that followed.
A history of worker organising

In 2011, as part of a wider reform process, trade unions were legalised in Myanmar after close to 50 years of being prohibited. Labour rights organisations and union federations sought to inform workers of their legal right to association. But it was workers themselves who organised unions in their workplaces. In most cases, this occurred following a workplace dispute that coalesced into a collective struggle to better wages or working conditions. With support, at times, from outside activists, hundreds of thousands of workers in the industrial zones around Yangon, Myanmar’s largest city, established workplace unions in just 10 years.

Union drives in the factories often began with workers wearing union t-shirts and red headbands, or engaging in sit-down strikes. If the employer refused their demands, the workers would organise a protest inside the factory or picket to disrupt production. These steps are simple. The objectives are clear. But union organisers in the factories had to work hard to mobilise their fellow workers. Factory-level union leaders needed to reassure workers that if problems arose, union leaders would take responsibility. And by organising campaigns, factory union leaders risked being dismissed or attacked by thugs. There have been many such incidents over the past 10 years.

It has only been when workers have gone on strike that they have gained power to influence factory management.

Government mechanisms established to resolve workers’ grievances and address workplace abuse have been ineffective. Strikes have therefore been the most successful tactic for factory-level unions to achieve workers’ legal rights in the workplace. It has only been when workers have gone on strike that they have gained power to influence factory management. In this way, unionised workers have won the right to participate in workplace decision-making. Factory-level unions have put a stop to forced overtime and workplace harassment. And unionised workers have compelled managers to go through worker-controlled committees to resolve disputes.

In Myanmar, there are two trade union federations that privilege the strike as a tactic for advancing workers’ demands. These are the All Burma Federation of Trade Unions (ABFTU) and the Federation of General Workers Myanmar (FGWM). Twenty-one factory-level unions founded the second of these in the Hlaingtharyar industrial zone, on the outskirts of Yangon, in September 2019. Since then membership has steadily increased. It was FGWM workers who led the anti-coup protests in Yangon and catalysed the Spring Revolution. Thousands took to the streets. In response, people across the country were moved to support the protesting workers and to join the mass movement against military rule.

From the February coup to a mass movement


Military authorities shut down Myanmar’s internet soon after the coup d’état on 1 February. Recalling that first day, Ma*, a factory-level union leader, told me, “I couldn’t believe it when I heard. But later, I realised it was true. Our president and Daw Aung San Suu Kyi had been arrested.” Civil society organisations, including labour rights groups and unions, denounced the coup, issuing a joint statement demanding that political prisoners be released and that the results of the 2020 election be honoured.

FGWM issued its own, similar statement, and later joined with several groups to establish the Anti-Junta Mass Movement Committee. Other democratic forces were also organising against military rule. The day after the coup, doctors employed as civil servants in the Ministry of Health initiated a civil disobedience movement by refusing to work in government hospitals. And ordinary people across the country began hitting pots and pans each night at 8:00 pm in protest.

Factory workers faced violent retaliation because of their role in mobilising protestors.


Faced with this groundswell of anger, conservative social influencers and moderate politicians began spreading a rumour that street protests would give the military junta justification to hold onto power. The claim, which was untrue, was that the military could legally hold power for 72 hours under Myanmar law. During this time it would have to inform the United Nations of the reason for the coup and present the president’s signature accepting a transfer of power. Failure to do so, it was claimed, would nullify the coup and require a transfer of power back to civilian authorities. Street protests would thus ostensibly give the military justification for holding onto power. Even people opposed to the coup believed this erroneous claim, and some politicians in the ousted National League for Democracy urged to people to remain in their homes. The result was that, in the days after the coup, many people became wary of taking to the streets to protest.

Worker organisers and factory-level union leaders in FGWM still wanted to take action. First they initiated anti-coup campaigns inside the factories using the tactics they normally reserved for pressuring their employers: workers wore their union uniforms, issued statements denouncing the coup, and sang revolutionary songs during their lunch break. They then decided that, if at least 3000 members agreed, FGWM would mobilise a protest. “When we had all arrived at the factory to start our day, I called a meeting as chair of the factory union with union members to discuss opinions regarding a protest,” Ma recalled. “I explained that under a military dictatorship we would lose our rights and that there would not even be workers’ unions in the factories. All the workers agreed to participate in the protest.”

In the end, even non-union workers joined the protest. On the morning of 6 February, around 4000 workers rode factory trucks from the Hlaingtharyar industrial zone to three locations in downtown Yangon. The vast majority were women in their late teens and twenties. One participant told me she would never forget her experiences that day, and she was grateful to the union leaders who safely returned the workers to their dormitories that night. Chanting slogans in downtown Yangon with their lunchboxes in hand, these protestors made it clear that they had come on their own volition as oppressed and exploited workers from garment factories on Yangon’s industrial outskirts to take their stand against military rule.
A debt that must not be forgotten

Factory workers faced violent retaliation because of their role in mobilising protestors and in catalysing the mass movement against military rule. On 14 March, the military and police killed at least 58 people in the Hlaingtharyar industrial zone. Politicians in Myanmar must surely know the debt that they owe to the workers who led the protests against military rule and who sacrificed so much as a result.

However, some commentators have instead claimed that the 6 February protests were led by high-profile politicians and activists, as though workers could not organise themselves. This is a misrepresentation of history. It neglects not only the role of workers in organising the protests, but also the self-organised struggles of workers in the 10 years of Myanmar’s so-called democratic transition. During those years, workers had to organise and strike to secure their livelihoods and their legal rights. Since the coup, workers in Myanmar have risked their lives in the struggle for democracy. This must not be forgotten.

* Ma is a pseudonym to protect their anonymity.

This article is part of a series of articles resulting from an independent research project on worker organising in Myanmar and produced with financial support from the Livelihoods and Food Security Fund (LIFT). The views expressed herein should not be taken to reflect the official opinion of LIFT or LIFT donors. Additional editorial support, translation, and research assistance was provided by Brown University's Center for Human Rights and Humanitarian Studies and the Center for the Study of Slavery and Justice.

Workers’ rights in Myanmar: a decade of fragile progress comes under threat

Labour protections were insufficient before the coup. Now the junta is rolling them back


Benjamin Harkins
13 December 2021

Making gold leaf in Myanmar |
Matteo Cozzi/Alamy Stock Photo. All rights reserved

Since 1962, workers’ rights in Myanmar suffered decades of abuse and neglect under military rule, creating a labour market where basic protections were neither adequately established by law nor respected in practice. At the same time, underdevelopment caused by rampant cronyism, isolation from the international community, and a regime of strict economic sanctions meant that not enough jobs were available for the country’s 23 million workers.

Following the election of a nominally civilian government in 2010, a wide-ranging political and economic liberalisation process was initiated, including intensive efforts to reform Myanmar’s outdated, contradictory, and vague labour laws. Among the dozens of legislative changes were the legalisation of worker organisations, the establishment of dispute resolution mechanisms, the introduction of a minimum wage, the expansion of social security coverage, and stricter prohibitions on forced labour.

Because of government and private sector sensitivities about research on working conditions, few independent, large-scale studies were permitted since the reforms began more than 10 years ago. Just months before the military returned to power through a coup d’etat in February 2021, a United Nations survey was completed with more than 2,400 workers employed in low-wage jobs to help fill the knowledge gap – assessing how effective the improved labour governance framework has been in ensuring decent working conditions. The key findings of the research are outlined below.
Suppression of worker organising


Outlawed for over half a century, trade unions were only legalised in Myanmar in 2011 under the Labour Organisation Law. However, the trade union density rate in Myanmar remains very low in comparison to other countries, representing just 1% of the labour force. Major obstacles to registering worker organisations continue to deny many workers their right to freedom of association.


Joining a worker organisation continues to carry significant personal risk in Myanmar. Trade union activity in many of Myanmar’s industrial zones has encountered fierce resistance and reprisals from employers. Consequently, many workers are intimidated by the potential consequences of participating in a union despite their legal right to do so.

Suppression of industrial actions by employers and police, in some cases violently, has frequently prevented collective bargaining from taking place.

Collective bargaining is still at a nascent stage in Myanmar and most agreements have been reached reactively through dispute resolution. Workers must resort to strikes to assert their labour rights largely because the normal channels for negotiation with employers are non-existent or dysfunctional. Furthermore, suppression of industrial actions by employers and police, in some cases violently, has frequently prevented collective bargaining from taking place.

Entrenched gender inequality

The heavily gendered division of labour continues to pose a major obstacle to women’s empowerment in Myanmar. Women are disproportionately responsible for performing unpaid household work, resulting in time poverty which limits their ability to participate in the labour force. Women’s remunerated work is concentrated in lower-paid forms of employment, largely due to discriminatory social norms that restrict them to jobs considered ‘appropriate’ for women.

Many of these jobs are as sewing machine operators in the garment industry, which expanded dramatically after sanctions were lowered and Myanmar began to open its economy to international markets. The sector has become an important source of income for many women in Myanmar but has also been broadly associated with exploitative working conditions and sexual harassment. The competitiveness of the garment sector’s labour-intensive, export-oriented business model is based on keeping wages and operating expenses as low as possible rather than investing in the skills or welfare of its overwhelmingly female work force.

Due to the devaluing of jobs considered to be ‘women’s work’, the survey found domestic workers to be paid inequitably in comparison to sectors which employ a larger share of men. In addition, a considerable gender wage gap was identified within several industries, pointing to lingering problems with restrictions on upward mobility and discriminatory treatment of women. Despite many years of advocacy by women’s groups, Myanmar’s labour laws still do not prohibit gender-based discrimination or sexual harassment within the workplace.

A minimum wage of less than $3 per day

Myanmar introduced its first minimum wage requirements in 2015 and stipulated that a new rate will be set every two years. Although this represented an important step forward, the minimum wage is currently only applicable to workers in the formal sector. Myanmar’s labour market remains dominated by a large informal sector, where approximately 84% of all workers are employed.

Moreover, many workers have argued that the minimum wage rate of MMK 4,800 (US$2.70) per day is still far from a living wage, and needs to be doubled to support a family of four. The national minimum wage committee did not reach agreement on an increase in 2020, a delay which has taken money out of the pockets of many low-wage workers.


The practice of exacting forced labour from civilians was supported by British colonial laws that were not repealed until 2012.

Within the survey, the majority of workers were found to be earning at least the minimum wage. However, wage theft in the form of paying wages below the legal minimum, not providing overtime pay, and making illegal wage deductions were widespread. In particular, domestic workers and agricultural workers were much less likely to be paid the minimum wage as the law does not apply to their work.

Exclusions from social security coverage

There has been substantial progress in expanding the scope of social protection coverage for workers in recent years. The social security scheme increased its membership from 700,000 workers in 2014 to 1.4 million workers in 2020 after the enactment of the Social Security Law (2012).

Nevertheless, a substantial structural gap in social protection coverage for workers in the informal sector means the vast majority are not enrolled, leaving millions of households vulnerable to the shocks and stresses associated with a loss of income. There are major challenges to filling the gaps in coverage, including limitations in fiscal space, lack of clear and inclusive statutory requirements, obstacles to registration, and problems with legal compliance by employers.

The survey found that only a small fraction of workers are currently enrolled in social security benefits. Membership was limited almost entirely to factory workers in the industrial zones around Yangon. The findings suggest that considerable work remains in expanding the sectoral and geographic reach of the social security scheme to ensure inclusive coverage.

Indications of widespread forced labour


For many years, attention to issues of forced labour in Myanmar was focused on abuses committed by military and government officials. The practice of exacting forced labour from civilians was supported by British colonial laws that were not repealed until 2012. More recently, research has documented conditions of forced labour among workers employed within the private sector.

Indications of forced labour were frequently reported by the survey respondents. The majority of workers were found to have experienced at least one indicator of ‘involuntary work’ in the prior 12 months. Indications of a ‘threat or menace of penalty’ were reported by a smaller portion of workers but were still disturbingly common.

The overall prevalence of forced labour among the workers surveyed was estimated to be 16%. Though it should not be considered nationally representative, the finding that one out of every six low-wage workers may be in a situation of forced labour is an unsettlingly high rate. Workers in the construction, manufacturing, and fishing sectors were the most likely to be trapped in situations of forced labour.
Workers’ rights in retreat

The research findings suggest that although some progress has been made in increasing workers’ rights and reducing decent work deficits in Myanmar’s labour market during the last decade, the changes are still at an incipient and fragile stage of development.

Authoritarian tendencies have continued to haunt the development of rights-based labour governance even under civilian rule. During the formation of the National League of Democracy government in 2016, the key leadership positions within the Ministry of Labour, Immigration and Population were given to military officials as a form of appeasement. The labour portfolio was not considered to be of central importance to the party’s largely neo-liberal economic agenda.

What followed was a restricted and top-down reform process, with five years of half measures and many key policy areas never receiving adequate attention. Insufficient improvements and the perception that workers’ interests were being ignored led many of the more progressive worker organisations to field their own candidates in the 2020 election, seeking to amplify the voices of workers in the political process.

The policies of the junta since staging a coup d’etat earlier this year suggest the resumption of more openly exploitative employment practices and suppression of worker organising. The return to military rule has already rolled back many of the hard-fought gains made in expanding labour rights during recent years. It has also contributed to an estimated 1.2 million workers losing their jobs.

Decisive actions must be taken to ensure that workers’ rights are safeguarded during the military’s reign. As part of cracking down on popular resistance to its seizure of power, the junta declared 16 trade unions and civil society organisations to be “illegal labour organizations”, leaving only a handful of registered trade union federations remaining. This targeted persecution of grassroots organisations represents an existential threat to further progress on protection of labour rights in Myanmar and must be met by unwavering support for their organisational resilience.

This article is drawn from the larger research study, published by LIFT, From the Rice Paddy to the Industrial Park: Working Conditions and Forced Labour in Myanmar’s Rapidly Shifting Labour Market.
Redefining ‘women’s work’ in Kazakhstan

A Soviet-era law banning women from more than 200 jobs has finally been overturned in Kazakhstan. But the fight for gender parity is not over



Aigerim Kamidola
13 December 202

Kazakhstan's list of banned professions originally stemmed from 1930 Soviet legislation 
Illustration: Lena Nemik. Used with permission

In 2019, Almagul Kabylbekova found work as a heavy goods vehicle driver in Temirtau, an industrial town in central Kazakhstan. But this job didn’t last for long, because women were not allowed to be lorry drivers. Or railway wagon inspectors, or crane operators.

Under a Soviet-era provision carried over into Kazakhstani law, these and more than 200 other occupations were designated “banned jobs for women” – until a series of amendments to the country’s labour code lifted the ban in October.

Two years ago, Kabylbekova didn’t know that her employment was prohibited. Then, when she posted a motivational video on YouTube about her work routine, her employer asked her to remove it immediately and dismissed her. It was then that she discovered that her job had been listed as a “light vehicle driver”, because she was officially banned from working her actual job, as a heavy vehicle driver. So after four months, Kabylbekova was on the job market again, accepting work here and there until she found another lorry driver job abroad, where it was legal.

When COVID-19 hit and borders were sealed, Kabylbekova had to return to Kazakhstan. She then discovered that she could not apply for unemployment benefits for a job that she was not allowed to perform in the country.

With little other recourse, Kabylbekova decided to join the battle that advocates had been fighting for years to abolish the ban.
Almagul Kabylbekova | Source: Personal archive

This job is not for women


The ban was originally established in the 1930s, when Soviet legislators argued that to “ensure the protection of maternity and women’s reproductive health”, women should be banned from hundreds of jobs. At its height in 1978, the ban consisted of 431 prohibited occupations. As of this year, 229 occupations were included in the ban.

The ban was translated into the labour codes of independent Kazakhstan – as well as that of other new states – after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Today, there are still 446 banned jobs for women in Russia, 456 in Kyrgyzstan, 326 in Tajikistan, and 182 in Belarus. Only in Ukraine has the ban been fully lifted, ending in 2017.


In Kazakhstan, the list of banned jobs was occasionally revised with minor changes, usually ahead of a United Nations external review. In 2019, the UN Committee on Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW) recommended that the Kazakhstani government repeal the list within two years. The deadline for the country’s report on its compliance with the recommendations was coming up in November, with CEDAW due to revise the process of the legislation in 2022.

Just in time for the CEDAW review, on 12 October 2021, Kazakhstani President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev signed amendments repealing the ban.
Reproductive rights and work

If it were not for the relentless advocacy by women in Kazakhstan, this blanket ban on women’s employment – based on the government’s ‘care’ for ‘safeguarding’ women’s reproductive functions – could have remained legal for another 90 years with sporadic reviews.

When I started working on the repeal of the ban in 2018, there was little public awareness about the existence of the ban and the list of prohibited occupations for women in Kazakhstan.
The author at the 74th UN CEDAW meeting, 2019 | Source: Personal archive

with a few exceptions, bringing the topic of banned jobs for women to the table was often met with surprise and disbelief among civil society advocates, women’s rights groups, and state authorities alike. Until recent years, this was a forgotten issue.

Yet, women had been working at banned jobs for years in Kazakhstan. Underground.

Indeed, women who trained and excelled at banned jobs were forced to operate in the informal grey zone: they had to settle for significantly lesser pay, with no social security benefits and labour protections, and were often left at the mercy of their employers and vulnerable to abuse.

After international pressure from CEDAW, the Human Rights Council, other UN bodies, the International Labour Organization, and the World Bank, the issue of banned jobs for women made it into the ruling party Nur Otan’s election programme at the end of 2020.

By May 2021, the infamous list was being discussed in Parliament, which ultimately decided to scrap the ban altogether.

Celebrate with caution


That the long-standing ban is now a matter of the past is definitely worth celebrating.

Lifting the blanket ban without reservations over ‘women’s reproductive function’ is a win against the framing of women exclusively as mothers and caregivers in Kazakhstan. It is an important milestone in challenging discrimination and gender stereotypes and has a potential for a trickle-down effect in the wider Central Asian region, where similar bans still exist. The grassroots mobilisation of women proved to be effective.

Yet, the extent of this success should be taken with a pinch of salt. The amendments that scrapped the list are not a recognition of decades-long discrimination in the country, or of women’s agency. Instead, the changes were included in an umbrella law emphasising the need for social protection (‘On Issues of Social Protection of Certain Categories of Citizens’), alongside provisions on social benefits for people and children with disabilities, their caregivers and families. Once again, women are regarded as objects of socio-economic measures.

Kazakhstani MP Zarina Kamasova, a member of the country’s parliamentary committee on social and cultural development, told openDemocracy that the amendments were pushed “onto the last train” – meaning they were included as the last item in a draft law at the end of the parliamentary year.

Ultimately, lifting the ban is largely a move to please Kazakhstan’s international partners. It was hastily passed because the government wanted to whitewash its failure to adopt a draft law on domestic violence

The ruling party presented the lifting of the ban as a favour from the top, to which everyone should rejoice, not as inalienable rights won by women after a long struggle of workers and advocates. During my meetings with MPs as the amendments were being discussed in Parliament, I was asked to avoid referring to ‘feminism’ in my arguments, because this kind of political association could have stirred public outcry.

Ultimately, lifting the ban is largely a move to please Kazakhstan’s international partners. It was hastily passed because the government wanted to whitewash its failure to adopt a draft law on domestic violence, which was shelved for revisions in January 2021 after yielding to demands of conservative groups.

Next year, the CEDAW review will assess Kazakhstan’s progress on four issues: the adoption of a law on domestic violence, the abolition of a mandatory pre-requisite of gender-reassignment surgery before a person can change their gender in official documents or ID, the criminalisation of forced sterilisation of women and abortion, and the repeal of the list of prohibited occupations for women. With the first three in a stalemate, lifting the ban on employment of women was ‘the lowest hanging fruit’. In essence, lifting the ban was deemed less dangerous and an easy way for the government to compensate for failures elsewhere.

Lia Nadaraia, a member of the CEDAW Committee, and its former Country Rapporteur on Kazakhstan, noted that “even the repeal of the ban and the list of prohibited occupations for women would not brighten Kazakhstan’s overall dismal record and would not help it to ‘score’ well at the review”.

A job not done

This year, Kazakhstan marked its 30th anniversary of independence from the Soviet Union. And while the repeal of the ban could have been a welcome celebration of this event, the Kazakhstani government’s continuing failure to pass domestic violence legislation and protect transgender people’s rights sadly puts the country it in line with the global trend of anti-gender backlash.

What’s more, women are still not being treated as equals at work. “I am happy that [the ban] has been revoked, but this has not affected my career and pay in any way,” Almagul Kabylbekova told me. She has found employers are still reluctant to hire women, while male colleagues remain hostile to women in formerly banned jobs.

Scrapping the ban is, arguably, only half the job. Kazakhstan must not, as the CEDAW further recommends, “facilitate access for women” to the occupations in question. The Kazakhstani’s state obligation does not end by deleting a paragraph in the labour code – as much as its government would like it to. Eliminating women’s remaining barriers to work are “even more urgent today”, says Tea Trumbic, manager of the World Bank’s Women, Business and the Law programme, in light of how the COVID-19 pandemic has “widened long standing gender inequalities around the world”.


Now, it is the task of the Kazakhstani government to properly inform women, employers and wider society that the ban has been abolished – and move the country away from outdated gender stereotypes. It is time that women are guaranteed equal access to professional education and employment at formerly prohibited occupations.

Update 13 December: standfirst image replaced with illustration by Lena Nemik.
Ten years after a brutal massacre, Kazakhstani oil workers’ fight continues

Oil workers are stepping up their battle for independent union organisation and better pay and conditions in the shadow of state repression and a 2011 massacre


Simon Pirani
16 December 2021

Thirteen demonstrators were convicted in the aftermath 
of the massacre at Zhanaozen |
(c) REUTERS / Alamy Stock Photo. All rights reserved

Ten years after police massacred striking oil workers in Zhanaozen, Kazakhstan, human rights organisations and trades unionists are demanding an international inquiry into the killings.

Even now, the true number of victims is unknown. State officials admit that 16 people were killed and 64 injured on 16 December 2011 – but campaigners say there were dozens, perhaps hundreds, more.

The initial killings – by Kazakhstani law enforcement who fired into a peaceful, unarmed crowd – were followed by a three-day reign of terror in Zhanaozen, a town in the oil-rich Mangistau province in western Kazakhstan, and nearby villages.

The torture and sexual violence used against detainees should also be investigated by an independent international commission, campaigners say

Although a handful of police officers were tried for “exceeding their powers”, and a detention centre boss briefly jailed, the Kazakh government has refused to say who ordered the shootings. Thirty-seven protestors stood trial in their aftermath, and 13 were convicted.
Eight-month strike

The Zhanaozen shootings ended an eight-month strike by the town’s oil workers, one of the largest industrial actions ever in Central Asia.

Oil workers and their families had demanded better pay and conditions, and the right to organise independent trade unions, at Ozenmunaigaz, a production subsidiary of the national oil company KazMunayGas, and contracting firms.

Zhanaozen has become a crucial strand in Kazakhstani working people’s collective memory. On the day of the killings, local residents risked arrest and worse to smuggle out video clips from the locked-down city, showing how demonstrators were executed in cold blood.

December 2011: Residents of Almaty, Kazakhstan, protest in reaction to police brutality in Zhanaozen |
 (c) ITAR-TASS News Agency / Alamy Stock Photo. All rights reserved

On Saturday 11 December this year, oil workers gathered in Zhanaozen, amidst a heavy police presence, to commemorate the victims. Tomorrow, ten years to the day after the tragedy, activists plan film screenings and other gatherings in Almaty, Kazakhstan’s largest city.

Today, some of the fear has faded, activists say: whole films – such as this one, made in 2013 – are shared on social media.

Who fired the shots?


An international investigation is needed because, even now, the Kazakhstani authorities are desperate to cover up the truth, according to two human rights activists who have investigated the massacre.

Evgeny Zhovtis, director of the Kazakhstan International Bureau for Human Rights and the Rule of Law, said that there were “three questions that have never been answered” about the events on the town’s central Alan Square, where the initial shootings took place:
Who were the provocateurs who caused trouble on the square?

Who exactly gave the order to send in armed police against an unarmed crowd?

Who fired the shots? The authorities have admitted to 15 killings on the square. In each case, under Kazakhstani law, an investigation should show either that the officer responsible had opened fire unlawfully, or that he opened fire because his life was threatened.


Zhovtis pointed out that two UN commissioners had called for an independent international commission to investigate the Zhanaozen events, but “this has not happened”.

Human rights defenders in Kazakhstan reject the Justice Ministry’s claim that an adequate investigation had been carried out, Zhovtis said.

“The leading Western governments are largely indifferent to what happens in central Asia,” he added. “Look at their response both to the Zhanaozen tragedy and the Andijan massacre [of hundreds of protesters in Uzbekistan in May 2005].”

Galym Ageleuov of human rights organisation Liberty has travelled regularly to Zhanaozen since the massacre to gather evidence. He said that, in addition to the events on Alan Square, any investigation should cover the use of torture against oil workers and their supporters detained during the three-day crackdown, sexual violence against women detainees and further alleged extrajudicial killings by security forces.

Kazakhstan’s labour movement is marking the Zhanaozen tragedy at a time when the right to form independent trade unions is again at issue in many workplace struggles

Detailed evidence of torture had already been made public, including at the trial of the 37 Zhanaozen protestors in 2012. “There is evidence that women and men prisoners were detained naked [in winter], were beaten, and had freezing water poured on them,” Ageleuov said.


Ageleuov also pointed to evidence of sexual violence against women detainees, including an oil workers’ trade union organiser and daughters of trade union activists.

Finally, he expressed dissatisfaction with the official death toll, referring to multiple reports of bodies being loaded into unmarked graves – including by Elena Kostyuchenko of Novaya Gazeta, Russia’s foremost opposition newspaper, one of the first journalists to get into Zhanaozen after the massacre.

“Any international commission should insist on the exhumation of these bodies,” Ageleuov said.

Long memories

Kazakhstan’s labour movement is marking the Zhanaozen tragedy at a time when the right to form independent trade unions, a key principle in the 2011 oil workers’ strike, is again at issue in many workplace struggles.

In June, national oil company KazMunayGas tried to scrap an agreement on wages and conditions with the independent Oil Construction Company Workers Union, seeking instead a sweetheart deal with a ‘union’ it had created itself. This followed an attempt by the authorities to deregister, and effectively put beyond the law, the independent Sectoral Union of Fuel and Energy Workers, a national-level umbrella of which the Oil Construction Company Workers Union is part.

Markhaba Khalmurzaeva, coordinator of the Central Asia Labour Rights Monitoring Mission, said: “There have been several strikes in which workers demanded the right to independent organisation, and in some cases, once a pay dispute was settled, employers even helped to register unions.”

But there is also a constant campaign of repression. “Quite often a strike will be settled, some demands are met, but activists who played a part in organising it are dismissed, and blacklisted,” Khalmurzaeva said.

These battles for the right to independent union organisation flared up earlier this year amidst a wave of strikes over pay and conditions. There were more strikes in the first half of 2021 than in the whole three years from 2018 to 2020. And this summer, the wave hit the western Kazakhstan oilfield, including Zhanaozen, where 11 firms were on strike simultaneously in July.

Worker at AMK Munai makes appeal to Kazakhstani president Kassym-Jomart Tokayev | Source: Instagram / EurasiaNet

In Zhanaozen, in the years after the massacre, the Ozenmunaigaz oil company was reorganised into 14 separate divisions. Many of the strikers were employed in the drilling services division, where pay was raised substantially and today is at more than twice the level of ten years ago.

In an attempt to smother the social discontent that exploded in 2011, the Kazakhstani government has invested in the town’s infrastructure, providing among other things round-the-clock water supply, where previously water only reached people’s homes for short periods twice a day.

Zhanaozen’s population has also expanded, but not everyone has benefited. Unemployment has grown rapidly, and in 2019 young people began to demonstrate at the local authorities’ offices, demanding work at Ozenmunaigaz. One man, Erzhan Elshibayev, who helped to organise these peaceful gatherings, was arrested and imprisoned for five years.

Ageleuov called the case against Elshibayev an instance of “political repression”, pointing to the fact that the organiser was convicted over a street fight that had happened two years before his arrest.

“Elshibayev has been in detention for two years. For the last three months he has been in solitary confinement and no one has heard from him,” he said.

Ten years after the Zhanaozen massacre, labour’s battles against capital continue in western Kazakhstan’s oilfields: for better pay and living conditions, for the right to organise independently at work, and for ways to live decently.

Exposing the truth about Kazakhstani state repression in 2011, about the chain of command, and about the barbaric use of murder and torture in the service of capital is part of this wider struggle.

A longer version of this article originally appeared at People and Nature.
COLD WAR 1.5
US charges ex-defense contractor with trying to pass secrets to Russia

63-year-old test engineer exchanged over 300 emails with FBI employee posing as Russian agent, says Justice Department

Jeyhun Aliyev |17.12.2021


ANKARA

An ex-defense contractor has been arrested in an FBI undercover operation and charged with attempted espionage, the US Justice Department announced on Thursday.

John Murray Rowe Jr., 63, was arrested in the Midwestern state of South Dakota on Wednesday for trying to provide "classified national defense information" to the government of Russia, said a department statement.

Rowe – originally from the northeastern state of Massachusetts – had been employed for nearly four decades for multiple defense contractors, according to the criminal complaint.

As part of his duties, Rowe held various national security clearances "from secret to Top Secret/Sensitive Compartmented Information," as well as worked on matters relating to US Air Force technology, among other things, the statement said.

"After committing a number of security violations and revealing a fervent interest in Russian affairs, including whether he could obtain a security clearance from the Russian government, Rowe was identified as a potential insider threat and terminated from employment," it added.

In an undercover operation, the FBI worked to "determine Rowe’s willingness" to communicate classified information to a foreign government.

Last March, the suspect met with an undercover FBI employee posing as an agent of Russia, and over the next eight months, he exchanged over 300 emails with the "purported Russian agent, confirming his willingness to work for the Russian government" and discussing his knowledge of classified information relating to US national security and military interests.

​​​​​​​"If I can’t get a job here then I’ll go work for the other team," meaning Russia, Rowe said in one of his emails.

In another email, he disclosed secret national defense information concerning specific operating details of electronic countermeasure systems used by US military fighter jets, the statement said

Charged with attempting to communicate national defense information to aid a foreign government, Rowe will make his initial court appearance on Friday. If convicted, the former defense contractor faces a maximum of life in prison.
USA
The Inflation-Fighting Bill You Don’t Know About

An overwhelmingly bipartisan effort would finally crack down on the ocean shipping cartel.


BY DAVID DAYEN
DECEMBER 13, 2021

STEPHEN B. MORTON/AP PHOTO
Container ship Ever Far, left, sails downriver past the Port of Savannah, September 29, 2021, in Savannah, Georgia.

Inflation is peaking at 6.8 percent. Real wages are falling, particularly among the middle class. Republicans smell blood, hoping to make rising prices the centerpiece of their midterm strategy. Democrats have pointed their own fingers, accusing the opposition of rooting against the economy for political gain rather than helping to fix the problems.

Given all this, you could have easily overlooked that the most focused legislation to alleviate a key driver of inflation passed the House last Wednesday with 364 votes.

The Ocean Shipping Reform Act of 2021 (OSRA 2021), the first update to ocean shipping rules in nearly 25 years, begins to reverse a punishing 1990s-era deregulation in the maritime portion of the supply chain. It’s unique in several ways: an anti-monopoly initiative from a federal government that has at best tolerated and at worst actively promoted monopolies for decades, a sharply bipartisan effort in a polarized and toxic Congress, and an expansion of regulatory power to structure markets that breaks with a federal bias toward self-regulation and laissez-faire posturing.

And “it all began in an almond orchard and a rice field,” its co-author told me.

Rep. John Garamendi (D-CA), who represents vast agricultural areas in Northern California, explained that exporters approached him earlier in the year with a problem. “They said, ‘We cannot get a container, and if we get one, we can’t afford it,’” Garamendi told me in an interview.

In parallel, Rep. Dusty Johnson (R-SD) was hearing the exact same thing from exporters in his home state. Valley Queen Cheese, a local supplier, has over two million pounds of lactose sold to interests in New Zealand that have been waiting for an empty container for six weeks. According to Johnson’s office, shipping times dock-to-dock have increased from 50–60 days to 120 days. And prices to secure a spot on a ship have increased as much as tenfold.

“We learned quickly that this was a market that is simply broken down,” Rep. John Garamendi said.

Importers were having similar problems. Garamendi told me about a company in his district that sells plastic Christmas decorations; their imported goods are stacked at the bottom of seven other containers at a port. The company is being charged millions of dollars in “demurrage and detention” fees, designed to clear goods from port terminals and get containers back to ships, even though that company has no way of getting its goods off the dock.

“We learned quickly that this was a market that is simply broken down,” Garamendi said. He teamed with Johnson to fix it, introducing OSRA 2021 in August. Within three months, it overwhelmingly passed the House. Sens. Amy Klobuchar (D-MN) and John Thune (R-SD) have indicated they would introduce a Senate companion, and a Senate hearing last week showed bipartisan interest in the issue. The White House has endorsed the bill.

To find the root causes, you have to go back to how ocean carriers have used their concentrated power to exploit anyone who wants to send cargo anywhere. As Matt Stoller laid out last month, for most of the 20th century the shipping industry was regulated as a public utility, which of course it is, as getting goods to markets swiftly benefits us all.

Under the old rules, ocean carriers could legally form alliances to set prices and manage routes, but all prices and fees had to be transparent; service had to be offered on equal terms with no individual rebates or volume discounts or geographic discrimination; and no exclusionary conduct, like promising slots to certain cargo, was permitted. Subsidies for the domestic shipbuilding industry ensured that U.S. carriers would play a vital role.

The goal was to expand commerce by allowing trade to flow reasonably, with affordable access for cargo shippers and a stable business for ocean carriers. That all was brought to an end with the passage of the Ocean Shipping Reform Act of 1998. Shipping contracts became proprietary and secret deals permitted, while the antitrust exemption for carrier alliances remained in place. Meanwhile, domestic shipbuilding subsidies vanished.

As a result, the top ten ocean carriers today control twice as much of the market, more than 80 percent, as they did in 1998. They are divvied up into three dominant carrier alliances, giving exporters even fewer choices. None of the major carriers are U.S.-based. As carriers consolidated, they built bigger ships, which couldn’t be docked at smaller ports, concentrating traffic at the larger ones (this is why the Ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach see 40 percent of all import traffic in the U.S.). They made volume discount deals with large retailers that guaranteed supply to them over smaller competitors.

With the Ocean Shipping Reform Act of 1998, shipping contracts became proprietary and secret deals permitted, while the antitrust exemption remained in place.

Moreover, as Garamendi pointed out, China entered the WTO 20 years ago this past week, rapidly becoming a dominant country for goods manufacturing. This extraordinary shift of production increased the global reliance on this narrow band of ocean carriers. “They’re able to collude, and plenty of them do,” Garamendi said.

The exploitation expanded during COVID, with profit taking precedence over access or fairness. Garamendi heard from constituents that containers with Chinese imports were brought to the U.S., unloaded, and then immediately sent back to Asia, bypassing ports where exports could be sent off. Though this seems like a lost opportunity, “we discovered that the ocean shippers could make far more money turning that container around than waiting for agricultural exporters to load it and return it to the ship,” Garamendi said.

These circumstances have been wildly lucrative for ocean carriers, while debilitating for exporters and consumers. Maersk, the world’s largest carrier, enjoyed its largest profits in 117 years last quarter. The record profits call into question whether the shipping industry is interested in solving the supply chain crisis, rather than profiting from it.

That’s where the updated Ocean Shipping Reform Act comes in. The bill is at once modest and pretty radical in scope. In 1998, the Federal Maritime Commission (FMC) was stripped of most of its ability to investigate and impose regulations on ocean carrier contracts. Under the new legislation, the FMC can initiate investigations of practices in the shipping industry, and set enforcement measures.

It can also apply minimum service standards to shipping contracts, and third parties could challenge contractual agreements if they find them to be anti-competitive. The bill also changes the FMC’s mission to one of reciprocal trade, and requires ocean carriers to accept cargo if it can be loaded into their containers, rather than just sailing off with empties.

While the FMC is currently investigating demurrage and detention fees, under OSRA 2021, these fees would be subject to regulation and would have to be reasonable, ending the practice of charging companies for failing to get cargo that they cannot access off the docks (a pervasive problem that predates the pandemic, as this 2018 FMC fact-finding demonstrates). Records of these fees would have to be kept as well, and a new process for challenging the fees would be established, with the FMC playing an active role.

“This supply chain crunch has laid bare many inefficiencies in the market today, and we have a chance to address those inefficiencies,” Johnson said in a floor speech last Wednesday.

Other legislators from both parties heard about the same problem from their constituents, which created the push for reform. Over 360 state and local groups endorsed OSRA 2021. It also helped, as it often does in Washington, that large special interests joined in the complaint, counterbalancing the large ocean carriers. “Just in the last week I got a call from Walmart,” Garamendi told me. “A few hours later it was Amazon.” This coalition was able to ward off the World Shipping Council’s opposition.

Overall, OSRA 2021 attempts, in a minor way, to shift the balance of power away from the ocean carrier cartel and back into the hands of democratically inclined interests, which have a role to play in structuring fair rules. The bill counts on the FMC being adequately aggressive and adequately funded; Garamendi said he would be watching next year’s budget closely to see if the agency has the resources necessary to do the job.

Moreover, the infrastructure legislation passed earlier this year provides funding to improve ports and the networks that carry goods off them. More broadly, competition policy to address such imbalances of power has to be on the government’s menu, too. “The market system cannot operate with a cartel or collusion,” Garamendi said. “We have had more than 30 years of neglect. Nobody has a right to the American market, but everyone ought to have a fair opportunity in the market.”

Anti-monopolists have been heartened by this legislation, because it actually intervenes in the public interest into markets that have obviously failed. Quietly, Congress is rediscovering its powers to actually operate in this fashion.


DAVID DAYEN is the Prospect’s executive editor. His work has appeared in The Intercept, The New Republic, HuffPost, The Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, and more. His most recent book is ‘Monopolized: Life in the Age of Corporate Power.’

#FEDERALIZEUI LIKE CANADA
COVID-19 Relief Funds Fuel Employer Tax Breaks

Instead of helping workers, states steer pandemic emergency dollars to employers to help them pay down unemployment insurance debt.


BY ELLA FANGER
DECEMBER 9, 2021

RICH PEDRONCELLI/AP PHOTO
A runner passes the office of the California Employment Development Department in Sacramento. California’s Chamber of Commerce has pressured the state to use federal relief funds to pay off unemployment insurance debt.

The $350 billion in federal fiscal relief to state and local governments in the American Rescue Plan (ARP) gave states an unprecedented opportunity to provide emergency housing, nutrition, health services, and other programs and benefits designed to help workers and communities deal with the pandemic’s economic shocks. But some states chose a different route—a tax break for employers at the expense of workers.


As unemployment rates spiked during the pandemic, states turned to federal loans to fund their unemployment insurance programs. Researchers at the Economic Policy Institute (EPI) have found that 16 states have used ARP funds to pay off these debts, after 23 states had already used CARES Act funds to bolster their unemployment insurance trust funds. Overall, 33 states from Texas to Connecticut have used federal COVID relief funds to pay off unemployment insurance trust fund debts.

More from Ella Fanger

When state revenues are insufficient to cover unemployment insurance demand, states can borrow from the federal Unemployment Trust Fund, but they must repay these debts within a few years. Historically, states have paid off these debts by increasing the state unemployment insurance tax rate on employers, so using COVID relief funds to pay off these debts effectively gives businesses a tax break.

“The spirit of this legislation was to be as broad as possible to really allow states to directly spend on people in a variety of ways,” says Asha Banerjee, an EPI economic analyst who worked on the findings. “This is not even direct aid to small businesses or something that businesses could use to invest in physical capital or hiring: This is just a future tax cut.” Banerjee also noted that some states with solvent trust funds instead cut benefits severely to avoid federal borrowing.

States have now spent a combined $15.7 billion of ARP funds that could have been used to make unemployment insurance more sustainable before the next crisis.

The unemployment insurance system was designed to be supported by state and federal taxes on employers. But in many states, these employer taxes are extremely low. In 2020, employers paid an average of just $267 per employee (down 4 percent from 2019), and 75 percent of employers paid no more than 50 cents for every $100 paid in employee wages.

The federal unemployment tax rate is 6 percent on the first $7,000 of wages per employee, but many employers do not even pay that full amount. Employers can get a tax cut of up to 5.4 percentage points, leaving them with a federal unemployment tax rate of just 0.6 percent. But employers cannot receive this tax cut if their state has outstanding debts to the federal government for their unemployment insurance programs, giving employers another incentive to push state officials to pay back these loans.

Chambers of commerce have been lobbying state governments to use COVID relief funds to pay off unemployment insurance debts. For instance, even after California pledged $1.1 billion of its federal relief funding package to pay off unemployment insurance loans, the California Chamber of Commerce pressured the state to use even more funds to pay off the entire debt. Business groups argue that unemployment taxes burden employers, especially small businesses, but the report’s authors pointed to the extremely low existing tax rates. “One could assume that money going towards unemployment insurance must be to the benefit of workers, but that unfortunately is not the case,” says Marokey Sawo, an EPI state economic analyst who also contributed to the research.

There are a number of other ways states could use these relief funds to help workers weather the pandemic. Firstly, states could use the funds to expand unemployment insurance benefits. (Some states did exactly the opposite earlier this year and returned federal unemployment benefits months before the end of the program in a misguided effort to force people to find jobs.) The federal unemployment expansion expired at the beginning of September, immediately cutting off benefits for 7.5 million people. Research from the Century Foundation and the University of Minnesota’s Aaron Sojourner estimates that 5.75 million workers whose benefits expired remain unemployed.

COVID relief funds also could be used to update antiquated state unemployment insurance administration operations. Many states rely on older computer systems and other outdated technologies that keep people waiting months for their benefits. These monies could be used to modernize and streamline unemployment application processes that are often complex and burdensome. Rehiring state government workers to fill the nearly one million jobs cut from state and local agencies would go a long way to help departments still trying to deal with unemployment application backlogs.

States have now spent a combined $15.7 billion of ARP funds to pay off unemployment insurance debts that could have been used to make unemployment insurance more sustainable before the next crisis and make substantial investments in social programs to help the most vulnerable workers. The researchers propose a number of alternative uses for the pandemic relief funds including improving access to broadband, education, housing, and workforce development. “This is a chance for states to really look at long-term investments,” Banerjee says, “But paying off unemployment insurance debt is not one of them.”

ELLA FANGER is an editorial intern at the Prospect.

Gillibrand Slams ‘Four Men’ for Watering Down Military Sexual Assault Reform

The New York senator worked for a decade and assembled two-thirds of the Senate to support her reform, only to see it wither in a closed-door conference.


BY DAVID DAYEN
DECEMBER 8, 2021

MICHAEL BROCHSTEIN/SIPA USA VIA AP IMAGES
Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-NY) speaking at a press conference to introduce the Military Justice Improvement and Increasing Prevention Act, June 23, 2021

In a blistering statement, Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand (D-NY) excoriated leadership on the House and Senate Armed Services Committees for “doing a disservice to our service members and our democracy” by severely weakening a bipartisan military justice reform she spent nearly a decade cultivating.

The reform, which was folded into the annual defense policy bill, fails to take the prosecution of felonies out of the military chain of command, as two-thirds of the Senate and President Biden favor. Some press reports and activists have characterized the reform that made it into the bill as broader and more significant than expected, but there’s one critical sticking point. While it empowers an independent “Special Victim Prosecutor” for certain crimes—including sexual assault, rape, murder, and domestic violence—military commanders would still retain court martial convening authority on these cases. Commanders would also select jury members in court martial cases resulting from these crimes, approve witnesses, and manage the trials.

House Armed Services Committee leaders maintain that the special prosecutor’s charging decisions would still be “binding” and that commanders would face discipline if they didn’t follow those decisions. But Gillibrand and reform supporters doubt that special prosecutors would maintain that level of authority.

“Such influence erodes the independence of the Special Victims Prosecutor and fails to address the concerns of the survivor community that conflicted commanders still have too much influence over the military justice process,” said Col. Don Christensen, former chief prosecutor of the Air Force and president of the pro-reform group Protect Our Defenders, in an otherwise fairly positive statement.

Gillibrand characterized convening authority as critical to the process. Even the Defense Department’s Independent Review Commission (IRC) on Sexual Assault in the Military stated explicitly that any reform “that retained commanders as disposition authorities in sexual harassment, sexual assault, and related cases would fail to offer the change required to restore confidence in the system.”

The retention of convening authority by military commanders in the reform provision reflects a resistance to change, said Sen. Gillibrand.

The reform otherwise does enable victims to know what actions have been taken against their offenders, makes sexual harassment a crime under the Uniform Code of Military Justice (while excluding it from the special prosecutor framework), establishes independent investigations of sexual harassment complaints, and requires tracking of any retaliation against victims for coming forward. But it narrows the crimes eligible for special prosecution, something reformers anticipated.

The fate of the military justice reform has been uncertain for months. Gillibrand and her Republican co-sponsor, Sen. Joni Ernst (R-IA), were able to assemble 66 Senate votes for their version, a rare filibuster-proof majority in a divided Congress. But Sen. Jack Reed (D-RI), chair of the Senate Armed Services Committee and a close confidant of the Pentagon, fought to fold the bill into the National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA), to keep any changes within his committee and under his control.

In July, Reed placed the entire Gillibrand-Ernst Military Justice Improvement Act into the Senate version of the NDAA. But in an eerily prescient statement, a Gillibrand aide told the Prospect’s Amelia Pollard in June, “Our preference would be a stand-alone vote on the floor because that way it can’t get killed in conference, which seems apparent is their plan,” noting that “[i]t won’t come out of conference until … December, and then it’s bumping up against the holidays.”

That’s precisely what happened. The conference report reconciling the House and Senate versions of the NDAA, released on Tuesday, was the product of Reed, his Republican counterpart Sen. James Inhofe (R-OK), House Armed Services Committee chair Adam Smith (D-WA), and ranking member Mike Rogers (R-AL). These four men, as Gillibrand described them, overrode the desires of a supermajority in the Senate and at least a majority in the House.

In doing so, they ceded to a long tradition of delay from the Pentagon on these issues. As the Prospect reported last month, the Defense Department blocked a 2016 staff report that recommended fixes to the military’s sexual assault database, which was inaccurate and unable to track trends in real time. Five years later, there have been no improvements to the database. A Government Accountability Office report from February highlighted the failure to track cases.

The IRC report identified a number of failings in the military’s approach to sexual assault and harassment, and Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin laid out an implementation timeline in September. But some of the key elements are not scheduled to be completed until 2030, a fact that drew an angry letter from Gillibrand and her colleagues condemning the military’s “vague approach and lax timeline.” The New York Times reported that Austin called members of Congress to lobby against stronger reforms.

The retention of convening authority by military commanders in the reform provision reflects this resistance to change, Gillibrand says in her statement on the NDAA. “Committee leadership has ignored the will of a filibuster-proof majority in the Senate and a majority of the House in order to do the bidding of the Pentagon,” Gillibrand wrote.

While campaigning for president in April 2020, Joe Biden said he would “order the Defense Department to take urgent and aggressive action to make sure survivors are in fact supported and abusers are held accountable for their crimes.” The White House Statement of Administration Policy on the Senate version of the NDAA said that it “welcomes efforts by Congress to enact legislation that supports core aspects of the IRC’s recommendations for accountability.” There has been no statement from the White House on military commanders retaining convening authority.

Gillibrand said she would continue to seek an up-or-down vote on her version of the reform. The only amendment scheduled in the House concerned whether to include a bipartisan bill that would allow marijuana-based businesses access to banking services.


DAVID DAYEN is the Prospect’s executive editor. His work has appeared in The Intercept, The New Republic, HuffPost, The Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, and more. His most recent book is ‘Monopolized: Life in the Age of Corporate Power.’
France’s Éric Zemmour Has Already Transformed America’s Far Right

The far-right pundit may not become the next president of France, but his ideas have influenced American nationalists for a decade.

BY MARTIN GELIN
DECEMBER 16, 2021

JEANNE ACCORSINI/SIPA VIA AP IMAGES
French far-right media pundit and 2022 presidential candidate Éric Zemmour delivers a speech at a campaign rally in Villepinte, near Paris, December 5, 2021.



French far-right pundit Éric Zemmour recently launched his presidential campaign with a rally that descended into brutal violence between his supporters and anti-racist protesters. Zemmour has become the star of French nationalism by courting controversy. In his books and TV commentaries, he has defended the Vichy regime, supported the death penalty, advocated for strict limits on immigration, and suggested that only “French” first names should be legal.

Unsurprisingly, Zemmour has been called a “French Tucker Carlson” by U.S. media. The two do have a lot in common. They are both influential nationalist pundits and fierce culture warriors. But it might be more accurate to see Tucker Carlson as an American Zemmour.

Long before Zemmour announced his run for president this fall, he was an influential voice among U.S. nationalists. His books and essays have been discussed on far-right websites, such as Counter-Currents, VDARE, and American Renaissance, over the past decade. His ideas have changed both the rhetoric and substance of nationalism in the U.S.


The “Great Replacement” theory was famously appropriated by the far-right activists of the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, in 2017.

In 2014, Zemmour published a book called Le Suicide français, which sold half a million copies in France in its first year, replacing Nobel Prize-winner Patrick Modiano on the domestic best-seller list. The book was not translated into English, but still received glowing reviews on several far-right websites in the U.S. Among the early adopters of Zemmourism in America were John Derbyshire (the disgraced journalist who was fired from the National Review in 2012 after publishing an article questioning the intelligence of Black people) and Paul Gottfried (a paleoconservative who coined the term “alternative right” for white nationalists in America). In articles for the far-right website VDARE, Gottfried and Derbyshire introduced Zemmour to America. Since then, Zemmour’s ideas have made a familiar journey from the fringe to the mainstream of American conservatism.


The title of Zemmour’s book refers to an alleged national suicide caused by progressive shifts in French culture and politics since 1968, particularly increased immigration and the cultural impact of feminism and gay rights. Along with far-right author Renaud Camus, Zemmour has popularized the phrase “Great Replacement” to drum up fears about immigration. For Zemmour, it describes what he considers a concerted attempt by Muslim immigrants to act as invaders bent on the conquest of France. It is no coincidence that Zemmour launched his own party called Reconquête (“reconquest”).

The “Great Replacement” theory was famously appropriated by the far-right activists of the Unite the Right rally in Charlottesville, Virginia, in 2017, and partly inspired the 2019 terrorist attacks on mosques in New Zealand. It’s also heard regularly on Tucker Carlson’s Fox News show, reaching millions nightly.

Zemmour’s consistent criticism of global capitalism has also been influential among American conservatives. He often talks about the need for corporations to be “patriots, not globalists,” and rails against the perceived progressive values of corporate boardrooms. These ideas have been a prominent feature of the French far right since the 1980s, when the so-called Nouvelle Droite and philosopher Alain de Benoist articulated an attack on what they perceived to be twin horrors of globalization: immigration and global capitalism.

In America, these ideas were initially popular with fringe paleoconservatives like Patrick Buchanan and Paul Gottfried, but now they are commonly heard among the ascendant “anti-globalist” wing of the Republican Party, led by Sen. Josh Hawley (R-MO), who recently published the book The Tyranny of Big Tech. From their point of view, big business is cynically and superficially linked with left-wing activism, based not on genuine conviction, but greed and self-interest. They believe that corporations have joined anti-racist and pro-immigrant campaigns because they want access to cheap labor, and that they share feminist and pro-LGBTQ messages because they hope to attract more consumers.

Zemmour’s cocktail of neo-reactionary ideas also consists of a radical attempt to rewrite history. He stridently defends the French Vichy government for protecting Jews during World War II, despite the fact that authoritarian, anti-Semitic Vichy rulers collaborated with the Nazis and shipped thousands of French Jews to Nazi death camps. The idea that any inconvenient truths should be banished from the official history of the nation has clearly permeated the thinking of American conservatives as well—see the frenzy over “critical race theory.”

The gradual rise of Zemmourism in America is symptomatic of the transatlantic currents of far-right ideas today, as digital platforms have lowered the threshold for the exchange of ideas across continents, leading to the rise of a nationalist international.


E V I L

Zemmour’s cocktail of neo-reactionary ideas also consists of a radical attempt to rewrite history.

At the recent National Conservatism Conference in Orlando, Florida, one of the recurring themes was praise for Viktor Orban’s authoritarian nationalist government in Hungary. Rod Dreher, senior editor of The American Conservative, gave one of the keynote speeches, “What Conservatives Must Learn From Orban’s Hungary,” where he praised Orban’s attacks on liberal civil society, and bragged about convincing Tucker Carlson to travel to Budapest for a Fox News show on Orban’s anti-immigration policies.

Tellingly, Rod Dreher has had a revealing change of heart in his support of Zemmour. In 2019, Dreher posted a speech of Zemmour’s, translated by a reader of The American Conservative who wanted to be anonymous because of the belief that Zemmour is “extremely controversial.” Cautiously, Dreher introduced the speech by saying: “I am publishing the speech below not because I endorse it, but as an important political document for American readers to understand what’s happening in France now.”

Two years later, Dreher gave Zemmour full support; despite the fact that Zemmour has not tempered his extremism at all, Dreher now considers him a nationalist hero. When Zemmour launched his campaign in early December, Dreher wrote a glowing review, calling it “one of the greatest political speeches I have ever heard.” Not only did Dreher offer another translation of the speech, he also composed his own American remix of Zemmour’s manifesto, pleading that some Republican official take him up on the offer of using the same rhetoric in an American context.

Dreher is becoming a kind of ambassador of European-style authoritarian nationalism in the U.S. “We need to quit being satisfied with owning the libs and save our country. We need to unapologetically embrace the use of state power,” Dreher said in his speech in Orlando. In their vision, a strong state is the only institution powerful enough to reverse immigration and decades of progressive cultural shifts. Gone are the days when the leading conservatives, such as Grover Norquist, advocated for a government so small “we can drown it in a bathtub.”

At Zemmour’s launch rally outside of Paris in early December, Paul-Marie Coûteaux, a former member of the European Parliament who supported Marine Le Pen in the 2017 election, introduced the candidate by saying that Zemmour should be made the next “king of France.” In these authoritarian fantasies, the government is the only counterweight to the liberal institutions in civil society. From Tucker Carlson to Josh Hawley, this is now the ascendant belief on the American nationalist right.

Since the launch of Zemmour’s campaign, his support has fallen slightly. After hitting almost 20 percent in polls earlier this year, he now hovers around 13 percent. Zemmour may not be the future president of France. But the ideological cocktail he’s running on—“Great Replacement” fears, historical revisionism, screeds against woke capitalism—is possibly the future of nationalist conservatisms on both sides of the Atlantic.EUROPE 


MARTIN GELIN is a journalist and author. His work has previously appeared in Foreign Policy, Boston Review, and The New York Times.
The Union of Autoworkers and Grad Students

With last week’s victory at the University of California, roughly 100,000 UAW members work for universities.



BY HAROLD MEYERSON
DECEMBER 16, 2021

KARLA COTÉ/SIPA USA VIA AP IMAGES
Students and faculty members of Columbia University rallied on December 6, 2021, in support of striking university workers. A student worker union won recognition in 2016, but a first contract between the students and the university has yet to be ratified.


While the media’s labor buzz last week was all about the vote of two dozen Buffalo baristas to unionize the Starbucks where they worked, that was hardly the only big labor story of the week. (And let’s pause to acknowledge that any media buzz about workers winning some power has been all too rare over the past three or four decades.)

There was also the ongoing struggle of bakery workers to win a contract at Kellogg that wouldn’t consign new hires to diminished pay and benefits (Bernie Sanders is headed to Battle Creek on Friday to rally the troops). Running third in the media’s eye was actually the nation’s largest unionization in several years: 17,000 research assistants at the University of California have joined the United Auto Workers (UAW). Despite the relative lack of buzz, that unionization more immediately pointed to a brighter future for the American labor movement than the victory at Starbucks.

I say that because organizing workers in the private sector has proved nearly impossible in recent decades. The evisceration of the National Labor Relations Act (NLRA) at the hands of the courts, and the pathological hostility of owners and managers to the collective bargaining of their employees, have compelled workers seeking to join or form unions to risk their jobs in the process—a risk that usually stalls such efforts in their tracks. It may be, as my colleague Bob Kuttner suggested on Monday, that macchiato-drinking consumers will put pressure on Starbucks not to oppose further efforts by their baristas to unionize. Indeed, a unionization effort at two Starbucks locations in Massachusetts popped up this week. But the equation on how many unsold lattes it will take to prod Starbucks to do the right thing has not yet been solved.

UAW officials estimate that with last week’s victory at UC, roughly 100,000 of the union’s 400,000 members are university employees.

The NLRA, however, doesn’t cover public-sector workers, an omission that has proved greatly to those workers’ benefit, at least in blue states like California. Under Jerry Brown’s first go-round as governor in the 1970s, California public employees were given the right to unionize. It turned out that their employers—usually state or municipal elected officials—weren’t as eager as private-sector bosses were to affront workers who were also voters. That’s the short answer to why fewer than 7 percent of the nation’s private-sector employees are unionized today, while the level of unionization in the public sector exceeds 30 percent.

That’s also one reason why unions like the United Auto Workers, rooted in a private-sector industry, began organizing in the public sector, where growth remained possible. Like most such unions, the UAW began the process on its home turf, organizing workers employed by Michigan’s state government and then employees at the UAW’s de facto home campus, Wayne State in Detroit (home of the Walter Reuther archives and other UAW collections).

But that doesn’t fully explain how grad students whom universities employ as teaching and research assistants across the nation were drawn to the UAW. Part of the answer is the UAW’s affiliation, over the course of the 1980s, of the independent left union known as District 65—a trailblazer in the union movement for such causes as civil rights and anti–Vietnam War activism. Progressive activist grad students both in New York City (where District 65 was headquartered) and in Berkeley had long admired District 65, and the synergies between those students and District 65 organizers led to a growing UAW presence on campus.

It took some time for that presence to reach today’s scale. UAW officials estimate that with last week’s victory at UC, roughly 100,000 of the union’s 400,000 members are university employees. Most are at public universities in states where public-employee collective bargaining was established by liberal state governments. In addition to the University of California (all ten campuses) and the Cal State University system, UAW campus locals also function at the University of Massachusetts, the University of Washington, and a range of other colleges.

The UAW is hardly alone in representing universities. The two major teachers unions have locals at public universities across the country, as do a host of other unions, which, like the UAW, found growth more possible in the public sector than in the private. With fully one-fourth of its members working for universities, however, the UAW may well have the highest share of grad student members of any American union.

Winning recognition for those locals has been anything but swift or automatic. Even when a state government enacted collective-bargaining rights for public employees, it took a while, often decades, for those rights to trickle down to the grad students and postdocs who perform much of the teaching and research on campuses. When Republicans took control of California’s governorship following Jerry Brown’s first departure in 1982, the process stalled until Democrat Gray Davis won in 1998, whereupon UC teaching assistants gained the right to unionize. Efforts to unionize UC research assistants then were put on hold during the governorship of Republican Arnold Schwarzenegger, but when Jerry Brown returned to office, the RAs won that right, abetted by a new system that enabled them to seek recognition when a majority of them had signed affiliation cards.

There are some ploys that non-university employers use to defeat unionization that won’t work with grad students.

Even so, UC President Michael Drake, in the dismal tradition of most American employers, withheld recognition until 97.5 percent of those signatories voted in late November to strike if not recognized. In addition, 30 Democratic members of Congress from California, led by Katie Porter of Irvine, sent a letter to Drake urging recognition. At that point, Drake caved, and the American union movement racked up its largest successful unionization campaign of the year.

The UAW not only represents employees at public universities, but also at a handful of prominent private universities, chiefly Harvard, Columbia, and NYU. For many years, the most venturesome and progressive region of the UAW (preceding even the District 65 affiliation) has been Region 9A, which covers New York and New England, and which began organizing private and public campuses many years ago. To win the right to organize grad student employees at private universities, however, required a ruling from the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) that those students, when acting as TAs and RAs, were actually employees who were covered by the NLRA.

The students won such a ruling under the Clinton NLRB, saw it revoked by the Bush NLRB, reinstated by the Obama NLRB, hindered by the Trump NLRB, and are in the process of having it reconfirmed under the Biden NLRB. Their efforts have been fiercely opposed by university administrations, particularly at Columbia, where students won recognition in 2016, but where the administration has been so slow to negotiate that a first contract between the students and Columbia has yet to be ratified. (That’s one reason why grad students there are currently on strike, as my colleague Alex Sammon wrote about on Tuesday.)

There are some ploys that non-university employers use to defeat unionization that won’t work with grad students. First, while Amazon may be able to convince its workers that they’ll lose their jobs if they vote for a union, that’s a little harder to do at, say, Harvard, where the thousands of teaching and research assistants aren’t easily replaceable. Second, the latest Gallup poll showed that fully 77 percent of people aged 18-34, the cohort encompassing the age range of grad student workers, have a favorable view of unions. These combined factors create significant momentum for unionizing. One clear illustration of why grad students are so anomalous among private-sector workers is that when the Columbia grad students won their NLRB-run election in 2016, and when their Harvard counterparts won theirs in 2018, those were the largest NLRB election victories for any union in those respective years.

Last week’s addition of the RAs to the ranks of unionized UC grad students and postdocs means that total UAW membership at the nation’s most prestigious public university system now totals between 43,000 and 44,000, by the UAW’s estimate. That makes the University of California the fourth-largest employer of UAW members, exceeded only by General Motors, Ford, and Chrysler (which is now part of a company named Stellantis).

By sheer coincidence, last week’s victory coincided with a vote by UAW members to shift the way they elect their national officers, moving from a quadrennial convention of delegates elected by their locals to a rank-and-file vote of all individual members. In this, the UAW is following the Teamsters, and for the same reason: At the end of the 1980s, federal prosecutors put the Teamsters under federal trusteeship to cleanse the union of its pervasive corruption, and one element of that trusteeship required moving to rank-and-file elections. The trusteeship has since been lifted, but the Teamsters have opted to keep the elections.

The UAW’s 100,000 university employees, chiefly grad students, will have considerable influence over the course of what once was America’s greatest union.

In recent years, the UAW has seen a precipitous decline not just in size, as auto production has been outsourced to foreign lands and the non-union South, but also in the quality and honesty of its leaders. Federal prosecutors have won convictions against a host of high-ranking UAW officials, including two former presidents, for spending union funds on their own luxurious lifestyles. This year, the feds required the union to hold a vote of its members to see if they wished to switch to rank-and-file elections rather than delegated conventions, where some of the voting had been manipulated by self-seeking officials. In November, members voted overwhelmingly to make that switch.

That means the UAW’s 100,000 university employees, chiefly grad students, will have considerable influence over the course of what once was America’s greatest union. Roughly 160,000 UAW members now work at the Big Three auto assembly companies, and a smaller number work for parts plants and other links in the firms’ supply chains.

Over the course of the seven rank-and-file elections the Teamsters have held, turnout has seldom exceeded a quarter of the membership; it’s usually far lower. My hunch is that the turnout rate of the UAW’s autoworkers will exceed that of the Teamsters, but will likely lag behind that of the UAW’s university employees. There will be a clear generation gap: The median wage of unionized autoworkers hovers around 50, while the median age of grad students, even factoring in those who take forever to finish their dissertations, is at least two decades lower. Moreover, a higher percentage of grad students are women, and perhaps people of color, than is the case among autoworkers.

“I’m excited not just about welcoming new members from higher ed to the union,” Cindy Estrada, the UAW vice president for its university units, told the Prospect, “but also for the diversity of voices that will bring to the dialogue within the union.”

The UAW executive board consists of the president, secretary-treasurer, and several vice presidents, along with the leaders of the union’s roughly dozen regions, who will also now be elected by the rank-and-file members. At this point, the UAW’s westernmost region is numerically dominated by the grad students in California and Washington, which all but ensures more of the “diversity” that Estrada spoke of.

Perhaps this is all more fitting than it may at first seem. It was the UAW, after all, that lent its Port Huron campus to a group of student leftists in 1962, where they formed Students for a Democratic Society and drafted the Port Huron Statement. And while the UAW was slow to embrace the Vietnam anti-war movement (in 1967, Reuther backed the ineffectual halfway house of Negotiations Now), in the 1970s, particularly under the leadership of Reuther successor Doug Fraser, the union worked to rebuild a broad, transgenerational left.

Region 9A had embraced that position earlier, as I can personally attest. When I was an undergraduate at Columbia in 1970, I was part of a student group that was meeting in some dingy Morningside Heights basement to plan our participation in an upcoming massive anti-war demonstration. There was a knock on the door, and in walked someone we didn’t know, who didn’t appear to be one of us, as he looked to be in his forties. “I’m from the UAW,” he said. “What can we do to help?”

The intruder, who was to provide all kinds of major logistical help, was Ed Gray, then the deputy director (and later director) of Region 9A. Ed was one of the many Reutherite leaders who saw his mission as building a more social democratic America, which at the time required not just ending the Vietnam War, but building bridges between the Old Left and the New, between workers and students.

Half a century later, the UAW is back on campus—this time in force.



HAROLD MEYERSON is editor at large of The American Prospect.