I
sat in the Michigan Union
one
snowy
Wednesday
morning, looking out on
the picket line. After months
of
unproductive
talks
with
the University of Michigan,
the
Graduate
Employees’
Organization finally gave up
on negotiations in favor of a
strike. You’ve probably heard
union members chanting as you
walk down State Street: “No
contract, no grades!” or “What’s
disgusting? Union busting!” You
may have even been accosted on
your way to class.
Demanding a roughly 60%
pay increase, reforms to campus
security and a variety of other
socially oriented policy changes,
GEO is asking for too much,
and they are unlikely to get
all of it. But they’ve already
accomplished part of their goal:
We see them, and we know their
value.
As I sat in my comfy chair in
the well-heated Union lounge,
I
scrutinized
the
graduate
students marching outside. They
shivered in the cold, turned their
shoulders to the wind, but never
lessened in vigor or quit their
slogans. They showed admirable
determination,
although
my
awe disappeared when they
stopped me on my way to lecture
to explain their platform. I was
running late.
While GEO’s strike is certainly
the closest to home, it is not the
only example of growing worker
frustration in America.
In
California
last
month,
teachers and service employees
for the Los Angeles Unified
School District chose to cancel
their classes and suspend school
maintenance in pursuit of higher
wages. The two participating
unions
eventually
achieved
their aim, with the drastic
step bringing their discontent
into the national spotlight. At
several
Michigan
Starbucks
sites, disgruntled baristas have
walked away from their coffee
presses and picked up picket
signs, joining over 100 other
stores across the country.
Their outrage is genuine and
requires
our
understanding.
Profits
and
compassion
are
not mutually exclusive, and
people in power should stop
treating them as such. Last
year, Starbucks CEO Howard
Shultz opted to shut down a New
York location moving toward
a union. And to clear up any
remaining confusion about why
his employees were upset, he
said the company was “assaulted
in many ways by the threat of
unionization.”
But it’s not just the C-suite
that
has
lost
touch
with
common
people.
With
a
potentially disastrous rail strike
looming
last
December,
the
Biden
administration
signed
legislation preventing freight
union members from walking off
the job. Scranton Joe, a supposed
union man, sided with corporate
and kept supply lines open. But
what about the workers? They
didn’t get the paid sick leave
they were bargaining for, and
their anger will not disappear
anytime soon.
Negligence
in
Washington
and on Wall Street has real
consequences.
We
will
feel
them soon if nothing changes.
My message to Biden, Congress,
Shultz and everyone else who
needs to hear this: Stop treating
everyone who can’t write you
a check like they’re invisible.
They’re not. They make the
country
work.
This
doesn’t
mean giving in to unreasonable
demands. It means listening and
showing genuine care for those
further down the economic
ladder. It means giving workers
your ear, not a strong arm.
Let the protests in France be
our warning of what happens
when elite indifference goes too
far. French President Emmanuel
Macron
drove
a
widely
unpopular pension reform bill
through
Parliament
without
a vote, raising the retirement
age from 62 to 64. Discussing
the controversial measure in
an interview, Macron placed
his hands under the table to
remove the luxury watch he
was wearing, further widening
the chasm between himself and
the working class. He bypassed
the legislative body meant to
represent his people. Now his
people are lighting buildings on
fire.
If we want to avoid suffering
the same fate as France, our
political and financial leaders
cannot behave with the same
pomposity. Vulgar displays of
riches spread quickly on social
media. The only thing that
spreads quicker is the backlash.
This
dangerous
dichotomy
combined with a larger wealth
gap than at any other point in
modern U.S. history seriously
raises the risk of unrest.
This country has always had
significant financial inequality,
but never before has it been so
noticeable. To the millions of
Americans barely able to pay
the bills, the countless images of
CEOs and politicians on yachts
and private jets represent an
American Dream they haven’t
shared
in.
And
now,
with
several of the world’s richest
men funding their own trips
to space, there literally exists a
world of difference between the
prosperity of the rich and the
strife of the poor.
Capitalism
cannot
survive
such dissonance. The strikes
sweeping the nation have shown
us where workers are at. The
apathetic responses from the
elite show us their detachment.
But capitalism remains the best
existing financial system, and it
has created more growth than
any other alternative. The costs
of a societal breakdown like
we’re seeing in France would
hurt everyone.
The wealthy must reconnect
with the rest of the country —
and fast. Show the skeptics and
the struggling what capitalism
can do. Let workers unionize,
and don’t look at it as a threat.
Look at it as an opportunity
to hear what the vast majority
of Americans are saying, and
show them that the free market
works for more than just the one
percent.
Opinion
America is on strike. Here’s what it means
michigandaily.com — The Michigan Daily
Wednesday, April 19, 2023 — 11
JACK BRADY
Opinion Columnist
T
hey rested their head on
their desk. Outside, the
chirping birds, the longer
days and the budding trees were
signs of hope and optimism for
most of the University of Michigan
community, but for our colleague,
springtime was a recurring trigger
of clinical depression.
A full professor, they had made
their way through the ranks of
the academy battling bouts of a
debilitating
depression,
which
once even landed them in the
hospital. Despite their struggle
with mental illness, they were a
respected scholar in their field
with
numerous
teaching
and
service awards.
Today, their depression had
become too heavy for them to
work. Only one thing prevented
them from leaving campus and
taking refuge in the darkness of
their bedroom. They eventually
managed to write the dreaded
email:
“Dear All: I apologize, but I’m
feeling under the weather today.
I am canceling our committee
meeting
scheduled
for
this
afternoon. I’ll follow up later
today by email.”
On their way home, they
bumped into a co-worker, also
an administrator.
“I just saw your email. Under
the weather, eh? You look great
to me. Got a cold or something?”
Our colleague didn’t want
to be prodded any further.
They just wanted to get home.
They had not disclosed their
depression to their department.
“I’m just a little unwell today.”
Not breaking eye contact,
the administrator said, tersely,
“Well, I hope you feel better.”
They couldn’t tell whether
the hint of sarcasm in the
administrator’s
voice
was
real
or
imagined,
another
microaggression or the product
of
their
imagination.
They
chalked it up to the latter, but
they would never know for sure.
The colleague in this story,
like us, is one of many faculty
and staff on this campus who
identify as disabled or with
disabilities.
We
experience
daily
microaggressions,
offensive
remarks,
constant
challenges
with
accessibility,
a lack of guidance to navigate
the disability accommodation
process and a general lack
of support within an ableist,
individualistic campus culture.
Our
colleague’s
clinical
depression
qualifies
as
a
disability and is protected under
the Americans with Disabilities
Act. However, unlike programs
for students, the University has
no effective structure on campus
to support faculty and staff.
Worse, the University often
relies on obscure procedures
to deny faculty and staff the
accommodations
they
need
without
possible
recourse.
The result is an inequitable
accommodation process. Those
with invisible disabilities have
a greater burden of proof to
show the University, and the
pervasive racial and gender
biases that endure in the medical
establishment, and parts of U-M
administration make the process
all the more difficult to navigate.
In addition to the problems
with formal procedures, some
facets of our cultural climate
are just plain unwelcoming.
During
the
COVID-19
pandemic,
the
University
relaxed rules on masking while
our
immunocompromised
colleagues risked their well-
being to teach in person. Then
came the rule forbidding us
from requiring masking in our
classrooms. We are still in a
pandemic. U-M health policies
threaten the health and well-
being of all members of the
community, especially people
with disabilities.
We chose to work and would
like to continue working for the
University in a climate that is
inclusive and supportive. Moving
forward, we expect a workplace
that embraces disability: not one
that grudgingly complies with the
ADA, but exceeds its standards.
As productive and successful
members of this University, we
believe disability culture has
a place and a role here at the
University.
Aligned with ethnic, gender
and racial justice, disability justice
requires
intentional
cultural
transformation on campus. We
seek a path forward through
building community, confronting
structural barriers and creating
a transparent accommodations
process for staff and faculty.
We suggest expanding the
LSA’s
Disability
Navigators
Pilot Program, a successful pilot
program that promotes disability
justice and supports employees
with
disabilities
across
all
sectors on campus through a
lens of Diversity, Equity and
Inclusion. We enthusiastically
support converting DEI 1.0
rhetoric into DEI 2.0 actions
and
implementation
plans
that are radically equitable,
inclusive
and
meaningful.
We
support
building
upon
the recommendations of the
Student
Inclusion,
Diversity,
Equity and Accessibility Board,
a committee that was organized
within the Office of Diversity,
Equity and Inclusion.
One such recommendation
we fervently support is the
establishment of a Disability
Culture Center at the University.
Additionally, we would like
to see an active critique to
address ableist language in the
Standard
Practices
Guides,
training
requirements
for
unit
administrators
and
a
reevaluation
of
profoundly
ableist U-M policies.
Working
in
partnership
with
Disability
Culture
at
the University of Michigan,
we
formed
the
Disability
Justice Network to provide
support and foster a discussion
forum for staff and faculty
and
cultivate
change
on
campus. Initially funded by
the
University’s
ADVANCE
Program, the Disability Justice
Network seeks to broaden its
network of allies to include
administrators,
faculty
and
staff. Anyone wishing to be a
part of the conversation can join
the Disability Justice Network
MCommunity
listserv
here:
disabilityjustice@umich.edu.
Although the Americans with
Disabilities Act was passed
over 30 years ago, paving the
way for people with disabilities
to become protected members
of the workforce, the campus
disability
community,
like
other
marginalized
groups,
has not been fully recognized
and
valued
within
our
larger
academic
community.
We
extend
to
all
U-M
administrators, and especially
University President Santa Ono,
an open invitation to explore
how we might transform U-M
policies and practices that fully
support people with disabilities.
Op-Ed: President Ono, is there a place for people
with disabilities at UMich?
EMMANUELLE MARQUIS,
REMI YERGEAU,
ROBERT ADAMS,
VIVIAN CHEUNG &
ANN JEFFERS
Opinion Contributors
Hammocks
Cartoon by Cassidy Brimer