Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581531
Claire Goldstene
In 2011, I was teaching a post–Civil War US survey course focused on labor history called “Work and Community” (a title and orientation I had happily inherited) and assiduously trying to explain to a room full of somewhat baffled undergraduates why late nineteenth-century labor activists had described their industrial working conditions as “wage slavery” and what they had meant. For most students it was a peculiar phrase—wage and slave were not words they associated with one another—that felt consigned to a distant and strange past. A couple of weeks later I happened to travel up to New York for the weekend, visited Occupy Wall Street, and returned to teach the next week wearing a T-shirt that read, “Free the Wage Slaves.” Suddenly, and amid our shared laughter, this historical phrase seemed more immediately present.Ideas about historical memory and the uses of the past deeply inform Matthew E. Stanley's layered Grand Army of Labor: Workers, Veterans, and the Meaning of the Civil War. As part of a growing literature centered on the diverse efforts to shape Civil War memory in its near aftermath, Stanley explores both the meaning and the memory of that war in the fraught battles between labor and capital during the Long Gilded Age. The book focuses particularly on struggles, some more and some less successful, to extend the war's emancipationist promise to wage labor and the robust debates about how to understand the dichotomy between slave and free labor that infused labor activism during those years. In arguing for the relevance of historical memory as source material, Stanley explicitly roots culture in social conditions while also acknowledging its power to influence perception. Thus, he argues that “representations of the Civil War in particular were critical to the development of class consciousness in the United States” (4). This work to develop class consciousness took place in “union halls, third party campaigns, printing houses, and shop floors” (97). Through the presentation of varied Civil War memories, Stanley reveals how different groups of working people in the decades after 1865 viewed the past and how that, in turn, informed their view of their present.By delving into the specifics of how multiple groups—the Greenbackers, Knights of Labor, Populists, socialists, and AFL—both debated and connected their Civil War remembrances and commemorations to their respective ideological and strategic platforms, Stanley illustrates how those memories also shaped these organizing platforms. While the leaders and activists that populate Stanley's book appreciated the rhetorical power of contrasting slave and wage labor, they did not necessarily agree about how best to do that. Here Stanley identifies two main modes of thought—one that saw the Civil War as ushering in the liberation of all workers in a manner that went beyond “the idea that emancipation meant only the absence of bondage” (28) and another focused on preserving the Union and the pl
{"title":"Grand Army of Labor: Workers, Veterans, and the Meaning of the Civil War","authors":"Claire Goldstene","doi":"10.1215/15476715-10581531","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1215/15476715-10581531","url":null,"abstract":"In 2011, I was teaching a post–Civil War US survey course focused on labor history called “Work and Community” (a title and orientation I had happily inherited) and assiduously trying to explain to a room full of somewhat baffled undergraduates why late nineteenth-century labor activists had described their industrial working conditions as “wage slavery” and what they had meant. For most students it was a peculiar phrase—wage and slave were not words they associated with one another—that felt consigned to a distant and strange past. A couple of weeks later I happened to travel up to New York for the weekend, visited Occupy Wall Street, and returned to teach the next week wearing a T-shirt that read, “Free the Wage Slaves.” Suddenly, and amid our shared laughter, this historical phrase seemed more immediately present.Ideas about historical memory and the uses of the past deeply inform Matthew E. Stanley's layered Grand Army of Labor: Workers, Veterans, and the Meaning of the Civil War. As part of a growing literature centered on the diverse efforts to shape Civil War memory in its near aftermath, Stanley explores both the meaning and the memory of that war in the fraught battles between labor and capital during the Long Gilded Age. The book focuses particularly on struggles, some more and some less successful, to extend the war's emancipationist promise to wage labor and the robust debates about how to understand the dichotomy between slave and free labor that infused labor activism during those years. In arguing for the relevance of historical memory as source material, Stanley explicitly roots culture in social conditions while also acknowledging its power to influence perception. Thus, he argues that “representations of the Civil War in particular were critical to the development of class consciousness in the United States” (4). This work to develop class consciousness took place in “union halls, third party campaigns, printing houses, and shop floors” (97). Through the presentation of varied Civil War memories, Stanley reveals how different groups of working people in the decades after 1865 viewed the past and how that, in turn, informed their view of their present.By delving into the specifics of how multiple groups—the Greenbackers, Knights of Labor, Populists, socialists, and AFL—both debated and connected their Civil War remembrances and commemorations to their respective ideological and strategic platforms, Stanley illustrates how those memories also shaped these organizing platforms. While the leaders and activists that populate Stanley's book appreciated the rhetorical power of contrasting slave and wage labor, they did not necessarily agree about how best to do that. Here Stanley identifies two main modes of thought—one that saw the Civil War as ushering in the liberation of all workers in a manner that went beyond “the idea that emancipation meant only the absence of bondage” (28) and another focused on preserving the Union and the pl","PeriodicalId":43329,"journal":{"name":"Labor-Studies in Working-Class History of the Americas","volume":"95 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135387637","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581475
Michael Woodsworth
Two horrific deaths on the streets of New York, fifty years apart, illustrate the persistence of police brutality in the nation's largest city. On July 16, 1964, James Powell, a fifteen-year-old taking summer classes in Manhattan's Yorkville neighborhood, was shot by an off-duty police lieutenant across the street from his school. On July 17, 2014, Eric Garner was placed in a chokehold by a plainclothes officer while selling loose cigarettes on a sidewalk in Staten Island; Garner's dying words were “I can't breathe.” Both victims were Black. Both cops—Thomas Gilligan and Daniel Pantaleo—were white. Neither faced charges.Why was the New York Police Department (NYPD) allowed to act with such impunity for so long? A powerful new book by Christopher Hayes offers answers. The Harlem Uprising focuses on the six-day outpouring of rage and grief set off by Powell's death. Hayes illustrates how the uprising activated deep-seated racism in the city, and how subsequent efforts to increase civilian oversight of the NYPD stoked a ferocious backlash led by the Police Benevolent Association (PBA) and its conservative allies. In the years that followed, the PBA would wield its growing political clout against any and all attempts to rein in the police.The book's opening chapters explain, in meticulous detail, how racism was woven into the fabric of New York life. In the early 1960s, as the civil rights movement was cresting, most Black New Yorkers were living in deteriorating housing, attending failing schools, and facing dwindling job opportunities while being systematically marginalized by the city's labor unions. If America was an “affluent society,” Harlem and Brooklyn's Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood were in the depths of an “ignored postwar depression” (33). Black communities were at once overpoliced and underpoliced, victims of both brutality and crime. Hayes reveals shocking corruption within the NYPD: officers saw Harlem as a “Gold Coast” where they could line their pockets by tapping into the heroin trade and numbers rackets. This sowed feelings of deep mistrust and powerlessness among Black New Yorkers.Those feelings erupted after Powell's killing. Drawing on contemporary newspaper reports, Hayes offers a vivid, hour-by-hour account of the protests, looting, and violence that gripped the city. Harlemites jeered, taunted, and lobbed bottles at NYPD units, who sometimes responded with bullets. Appeals for calm by old-guard civil rights leaders (Bayard Rustin, James Farmer) mostly fell on deaf ears. By July 20, rioting had spread across the East River to Bed-Stuy. When it was all over, one person had died, and the official toll also included 95 injured civilians, 50 injured police officers, 504 arrests, and 678 damaged businesses.Though it ignited the “long hot summers” of the 1960s, the Harlem uprising has until recently been overshadowed by deadlier sequels: Watts, Detroit, Newark. Hayes builds on a growing body of research about police brutality in Ne
相隔50年发生在纽约街头的两起可怕的死亡事件,说明了美国最大城市警察暴行的持续存在。1964年7月16日,15岁的詹姆斯·鲍威尔在曼哈顿约克维尔社区参加暑期班,在学校对面被一名不当班的警察中尉枪杀。2014年7月17日,埃里克·加纳(Eric Garner)在斯塔顿岛的人行道上出售散装香烟时,被一名便衣警察扼住了脖子;加纳的临终遗言是“我不能呼吸了。”两名受害者都是黑人。两名警察——托马斯·吉利根和丹尼尔·潘塔莱奥——都是白人。两人都没有面临指控。为什么纽约警察局(NYPD)可以逍遥法外这么长时间?克里斯托弗·海耶斯的一本强有力的新书给出了答案。《哈莱姆起义》关注的是鲍威尔之死引发的为期六天的愤怒和悲伤。海耶斯阐释了起义如何激活了城市中根深蒂固的种族主义,以及随后加强对纽约警察局的民事监督的努力如何引发了由警察慈善协会(PBA)及其保守派盟友领导的激烈反弹。在接下来的几年里,PBA将运用其日益增长的政治影响力来反对任何和所有控制警察的企图。这本书的开头几章细致入微地解释了种族主义是如何融入纽约生活的。20世纪60年代初,随着民权运动的高潮,大多数纽约黑人住在破旧的房子里,上的学校很差,面临着越来越少的工作机会,同时被这个城市的工会系统地边缘化。如果说美国是一个“富裕的社会”,那么哈莱姆和布鲁克林的贝德福德-史岱文森社区则深陷“被忽视的战后大萧条”(33)。黑人社区同时处于警力过度和警力不足的状态,是暴行和犯罪的受害者。海耶斯揭露了纽约警察局内部令人震惊的腐败:警官们把哈莱姆区视为“黄金海岸”,在那里他们可以通过海洛因交易和号码诈骗来中饱私囊。这在纽约黑人中播下了深深的不信任和无力感。鲍威尔被杀后,这些情绪爆发了。海耶斯以当时的报纸报道为素材,对笼罩这座城市的抗议、抢劫和暴力行为进行了生动、逐小时的描述。哈莱姆人嘲笑,嘲弄,并向纽约警察投掷瓶子,他们有时用子弹回应。保守派民权领袖(贝亚德•鲁斯汀、詹姆斯•法默)呼吁人们保持冷静,但大多数人对此置若罔闻。到7月20日,骚乱已经从东河蔓延到贝德斯图。当一切结束时,有一人死亡,官方统计的数字还包括95名受伤的平民,50名受伤的警察,504人被捕,678家店铺受损。虽然它点燃了20世纪60年代“漫长炎热的夏天”,但直到最近,哈莱姆起义才被更致命的后续事件所掩盖:瓦茨、底特律、纽瓦克。海耶斯的研究基于对纽约警察暴行的越来越多的研究,包括玛丽莲·约翰逊(marilyn Johnson)和克拉伦斯·泰勒(Clarence Taylor)的研究,以及迈克尔·弗拉姆(Michael Flamm) 2017年出版的《炎热的夏天》(in the Heat of the Summer),该书全面描述了哈莱姆骚乱,将纽约的事件与20世纪60年代末的右转联系在一起。海耶斯的作品有一个值得欢迎的贡献,那就是他把重点放在了当地的演员身上,比如经常被忽视的市长小罗伯特·f·瓦格纳(Robert F. Wagner Jr.),他于1954年至1965年任职。海耶斯认为,尽管瓦格纳享有进步主义的声誉,并直言不讳地支持民权运动,但他一再推迟必要的改革,从而阻碍了种族进步。1964年,瓦格纳作为林登·约翰逊(Lyndon Johnson)的《向犯罪宣战》(War on Crime)的早期化身出现。7月22日,市长发表演讲,将黑人暴徒比作三k党,并至少9次提到“法律与秩序”。(相比之下,巴里·戈德华特(Barry Goldwater)在一周前接受共和党总统候选人提名的演讲中只使用了一次这个短语。)瓦格纳的继任者约翰·林赛(John Lindsay)上任时承诺改革该市的民事投诉审查委员会(CCRB)。自1953年成立以来,CCRB一直由纽约警察局内部管理,而且效率低下。1966年,林赛重组了董事会,包括四名平民,他们将与三名纽约警察局任命的人一起工作。新成员中有两位是黑人,一位是波多黎各人,主席是犹太人。尽管警察局长霍华德·利里支持改革,但PBA及其普通员工却采取了攻势。在11月的选举之前,PBA提出了一项投票倡议,将取消林赛的改革,并修改城市章程,以限制未来对纽约警察局的任何审查,无论是来自市长,市议会还是市政机构。支持这项倡议的是一个资金充足的右翼团体联盟,从威廉·f·巴克利(William F. Buckley)的保守党到新纳粹组织。海耶斯在这篇研究充分、令人回味的章节中,展示了这场运动是如何粗暴地利用反黑人和反犹形象来调动亲警察情绪的。 他们成功了:在选举之夜,63%的纽约人投票废除了新的CCRB。海耶斯丰富地表达了20世纪60年代种族主义的压倒性分量,但他偶尔也会因过于简单化而感到内疚。为了反驳那种认为纽约黑人应该模仿“其他”移民群体来追求向上流动的旧谣言,海耶斯宣称,“把纽约黑人,甚至南方移民视为移民,因为他们不是来自另一个国家,这是完全不合理的,事实上是错误的”(182)。但在20世纪60年代,许多纽约黑人实际上是来自西印度群岛的移民,他们中的一些人觉得自己在文化上与来自美国南部的邻居截然不同。在写贝德德-斯图的时候,海耶斯也冒险进入了不确定的领域,他将其描述为“一个无根的地方”,在20世纪60年代中期之前没有有效的社区领导。他说:“除了种族隔离、贫穷和犯罪之外,这个地区几乎没有什么可识别的。”这些说法忽视了黑人布鲁克林丰富的激进主义传统,也抹掉了贝德-斯图伊大量的中产阶级房主,他们中的许多人用自己版本的“法律与秩序”政治来迎接1964年7月的暴力事件。如果海斯在纽约黑人社区中进一步探索这些复杂的动态,他的研究可能会更有力。尽管如此,这是一本重要而及时的书,它直接将20世纪60年代的事件与纽约至今根深蒂固的种族隔离联系起来。最后,海斯为后乔治·弗洛伊德时代总结了一些教训,尖锐地提醒读者,进步并非不可避免。“事情可以变得更好,但我们必须尝试,”他写道(251)。
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Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581251
Leon Fink
Three very different projects discussed in this issue highlight the political challenge of perceived racial difference for liberal and social democratic forces in the twentieth-century West. In the first article Latin American specialist Heidi Tinsman probes the issue of labor control and lack of rights among Chinese contract laborers in postslavery 1870s Peru from an original angle. Through the activities of special Chinese envoy Yung Wing, sent to survey the conditions of Chinese contract workers on Peruvian plantations, we gather at once the contemporary power and the limitations of an antislavery discourse as applied to a new migrant workforce. Yet even as Qing dynasty officials, whom Yung Wing represented, registered a compelling critique of Western hubris in international relations, that critique, Tinsman indicates, did not fully resonate with the perspective, or aspirations, of the contract laborers themselves.Fifty years on from the debate over whether conditions of immigrant contract laborers were like or unlike slavery, Second International socialists meeting at the World Migration Congress of 1926 in London believed that they had transcended a blinkered and racist past and arrived at a moment of “color-blind solidarity among all peoples of the world.” Their enthusiasm, as historian Lucas Poy documents in an exhumation of discussions among socialist parties and trade unions, was of course premature. While happy to declaim in principle against colonialism and imperialism, Western worker representatives betrayed deep assumptions of racial hierarchy and social Darwinian justifications for national just deserts, as most evident in “White Australia” rhetoric and broader defenses of immigration restrictions. Poy concludes that within the “inter-nationalism” of the period, the delegates’ “common sense of belonging to International Labour . . . never included the coloured/colonial peoples.”Kelly Lytle Hernández's Bad Mexicans, our Bookmark selection for books published in 2022, not only offers a vivid retelling of the roots of the Mexican Revolution through the transborder perspective of the anarchist movement centered on the Flores Magón brothers but also sets up—as our three reviewers attest—a fascinating discussion of the broader public purposes of historical research and writing. As a group the reviewers are at once enthralled by Lytle Hernández's narrative power and divided on her claims as to the significance of Ricardo Flores Magón and the Partido Liberal Mexicano in the larger events that led to revolutionary upheaval in Mexico that began in 1910. Especially given the magonistas’ focus on the machinery of US repression, Elliott Young wonders why “they mostly stayed in the United States after the bullets started flying in Mexico.” An accomplished transborder scholar herself, Sonia Hernández also seems to draw more lessons from the “defeat” of a “potentially transformative democratization” by Magón and company than from any putative victo
{"title":"Editor's Introduction","authors":"Leon Fink","doi":"10.1215/15476715-10581251","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1215/15476715-10581251","url":null,"abstract":"Three very different projects discussed in this issue highlight the political challenge of perceived racial difference for liberal and social democratic forces in the twentieth-century West. In the first article Latin American specialist Heidi Tinsman probes the issue of labor control and lack of rights among Chinese contract laborers in postslavery 1870s Peru from an original angle. Through the activities of special Chinese envoy Yung Wing, sent to survey the conditions of Chinese contract workers on Peruvian plantations, we gather at once the contemporary power and the limitations of an antislavery discourse as applied to a new migrant workforce. Yet even as Qing dynasty officials, whom Yung Wing represented, registered a compelling critique of Western hubris in international relations, that critique, Tinsman indicates, did not fully resonate with the perspective, or aspirations, of the contract laborers themselves.Fifty years on from the debate over whether conditions of immigrant contract laborers were like or unlike slavery, Second International socialists meeting at the World Migration Congress of 1926 in London believed that they had transcended a blinkered and racist past and arrived at a moment of “color-blind solidarity among all peoples of the world.” Their enthusiasm, as historian Lucas Poy documents in an exhumation of discussions among socialist parties and trade unions, was of course premature. While happy to declaim in principle against colonialism and imperialism, Western worker representatives betrayed deep assumptions of racial hierarchy and social Darwinian justifications for national just deserts, as most evident in “White Australia” rhetoric and broader defenses of immigration restrictions. Poy concludes that within the “inter-nationalism” of the period, the delegates’ “common sense of belonging to International Labour . . . never included the coloured/colonial peoples.”Kelly Lytle Hernández's Bad Mexicans, our Bookmark selection for books published in 2022, not only offers a vivid retelling of the roots of the Mexican Revolution through the transborder perspective of the anarchist movement centered on the Flores Magón brothers but also sets up—as our three reviewers attest—a fascinating discussion of the broader public purposes of historical research and writing. As a group the reviewers are at once enthralled by Lytle Hernández's narrative power and divided on her claims as to the significance of Ricardo Flores Magón and the Partido Liberal Mexicano in the larger events that led to revolutionary upheaval in Mexico that began in 1910. Especially given the magonistas’ focus on the machinery of US repression, Elliott Young wonders why “they mostly stayed in the United States after the bullets started flying in Mexico.” An accomplished transborder scholar herself, Sonia Hernández also seems to draw more lessons from the “defeat” of a “potentially transformative democratization” by Magón and company than from any putative victo","PeriodicalId":43329,"journal":{"name":"Labor-Studies in Working-Class History of the Americas","volume":"33 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135387634","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581349
Kelly Lytle Hernández
I want to begin by thanking Labor: Studies in Working-Class History for selecting Bad Mexicans: Race, Empire, and Rebellion in the Borderlands as its Big Book for 2022. It has been an honor to engage with the Labor and Working-Class History Association community and, especially, with Sonia Hernández, John Tutino, and Elliott Young, who so graciously accepted invitations to read and comment on the book. I will keep my reflections brief, as the readers have all made fair critiques of Bad Mexicans, including its strengths and weaknesses.Elliott Young and Sonia Hernández both comment on the book's embrace of a transnational approach to history. Young, who cofounded the Tepoztlán Institute for the Transnational History of the Americas, an institute I once attended back in 2008, writes that Bad Mexicans joins a forgotten but reemerging tradition of telling “stories that cross and spill over borders.” As he notes, the first page of Bad Mexicans jumps the border, launching a narrative “journey that weaves back and forth across the US-Mexico border to tell a story of a transnational anticapitalist movement at the birth of revolutionary Mexico.” Hernández, herself an intrepid chronicler of cross-border and revolutionary histories, writes that “magonismo, in many ways the perfect subject for a transnational study, lends itself to creating models of scholarship based on transnational, global efforts of solidarity.” Writing a borderlands history, one that sits comfortably at the intersection of nations and within an orbit of its own (“ni de aquí ni de allá,” as Hernández's grandmother might put it) was certainly one of my goals with this book. I am thrilled that these two distinguished historians of transnational history have identified the book's borderlands frame as well executed.Each reviewer notes that historians of the Mexican Revolution debate the “importance of the magonistas in the course of the [Mexican] revolution,” given that relatively few Mexicans, on either side of the border, actively supported the magonistas in their all-out “war on capital, authority, and the Church.” As John Tutino details, the magonista platform was too anticlerical and too liberal for mass support. Similarly, as Hernández observes, leading voices among the magonistas, namely Ricardo Flores Magón and Librado Rivera, “lost many allies who saw them as intransigent and stubborn.” In turn, the magonistas “never provoke[d] mass mobilizations, while thousands joined Villista risings just across the border and thousands more rose in Zapatista communities south of Mexico City.” Elliott Young makes the point with an important question—“Just who were these protagonists of the Mexican Revolution?”—and notes that Bad Mexicans does not address how the magonistas ideologically jived with the various factions that went on to fight in the revolution. These observations are correct. The magonistas did not lead the Mexican Revolution, the 1917 Mexican Constitution was not as radical as they
首先,我要感谢《劳动:工人阶级历史研究》选择《坏墨西哥人:边境地带的种族、帝国和叛乱》作为2022年的大书。我很荣幸能与劳工和工人阶级历史协会社区合作,尤其是索尼娅Hernández、约翰·图蒂诺和埃利奥特·杨,他们非常慷慨地接受了阅读和评论这本书的邀请。我将保持我的想法简短,因为读者们都对《坏墨西哥人》提出了公正的批评,包括它的优点和缺点。艾略特·杨(Elliott Young)和索尼娅·Hernández都对这本书采用跨国方法研究历史发表了评论。杨是Tepoztlán美洲跨国历史研究所(Institute for the Transnational History of Americas)的创始人之一,我曾在2008年参加过这个研究所。他写道,坏的墨西哥人加入了一个被遗忘但又重新出现的传统,讲述“跨越国界的故事”。正如他所指出的,《坏墨西哥人》的第一页跳过了边境,开始了一段“在美墨边境来回编织的叙事之旅,讲述了革命墨西哥诞生时跨国反资本主义运动的故事。”Hernández是一位勇敢的跨境和革命历史编年史者,她写道:“magonismo在许多方面都是跨国研究的完美主题,它有助于建立基于跨国、全球团结努力的学术模式。”写一部边陲的历史,一部舒适地坐在国家的交叉点上,在自己的轨道上的历史(“ni de aquí ni de all<e:1>”,正如Hernández的祖母可能会说的那样),当然是我写这本书的目标之一。我很高兴这两位杰出的跨国历史学家认为这本书的边界框架执行得很好。每位评论者都注意到,研究墨西哥革命的历史学家都在争论“magonistas在(墨西哥)革命过程中的重要性”,因为在边境两侧,积极支持magonistas全面“向资本、权威和教会开战”的墨西哥人相对较少。正如约翰·图蒂诺(John Tutino)详述的那样,magonista纲领过于反教权,过于自由,无法获得大众支持。同样的,正如Hernández所观察到的,magonistas的主要声音,即Ricardo Flores Magón和Librado Rivera,“失去了许多认为他们不妥协和固执的盟友。”反过来,magonistas“从未引发大规模动员,而数千人加入了边境对面的Villista起义,还有数千人在墨西哥城以南的Zapatista社区崛起。”埃利奥特·杨提出了一个重要的问题——“墨西哥革命的这些主角到底是谁?”他还指出,《坏墨西哥人》并没有提到马格尼斯塔是如何在意识形态上与后来在革命中战斗的各个派别结合在一起的。这些观察结果是正确的。magonistas并没有领导墨西哥革命,1917年的墨西哥宪法也没有他们所要求的那么激进,里卡多·弗洛雷斯Magón孤独地死在莱文沃思监狱的一间牢房里。此外,在未来的几十年里,他们作为政治鼓动者的记忆已经扭曲和减弱。最近,墨西哥政府宣布2022年为里卡多·弗洛雷斯年Magón,这让杨怀疑“可怜的里卡多”,一个无政府主义者,是否在他的坟墓里“吐了一点”。而且,正如索尼娅Hernández所指出的,尽管他们是持不同政见的作家,但在墨西哥,新闻业仍然是一个危险的职业。事实上,2022年,里卡多·弗洛雷斯Magón之年,是墨西哥记者有史以来死亡人数最多的一年。这些都是真的激进派没有获胜——激进派几乎从未获胜——因此一些历史学家质疑他们作为历史推动者的影响。尽管如此,我还是相信magonistas和他们的故事的力量。对我来说,在我的祖国边疆,一小群普通的男女向暴君发起挑战,并掀起了一场将他赶下台的革命,这就足够了。他们没有继续领导革命,但毫无疑问,他们帮助启动了革命。这里需要注意的是,许多质疑马格尼塔作为历史角色的影响的学者倾向于根据他们在1911年衰落后的情况来判断他们。但美国和墨西哥的档案都清楚地表明,在1901年至1910年间,也就是马格尼塔运动最活跃的时期,两国政府都在竭力遏制他们的叛乱。根据John Tutino的说法,Bad mexican利用这些档案提供了“Díaz政权参与政治间谍活动的能力的前所未有的描述,无论是独立的还是与美国盟友合作的,与PLM激进分子分享信息和宣传,新闻和计划的能力相匹配的新细节,从躲藏到监狱,跨越遥远的距离,对抗坚定的对手。”我不同意。沃德·阿尔布罗,W。 Dirk Raat, John Womack, Juan Gomez Quiñones和其他人之前已经对美国和墨西哥政府镇压magonistas的努力进行了详尽的分析,特别是在他们于1904年到达美国之后。我们都清楚地看到,在1901年至1910年之间,马格尼斯塔迫使地球上一些最有权势的人为他们的自由梦想而斗争:被剥夺公民权的人拥有权力,被剥夺财产的人拥有土地,穷人拥有财富,被征服的人拥有自治。在有权势的人心中制造恐惧,激起政府的愤怒,在被剥夺财产的人中间传播自由的思想,这些并不是创造历史的唯一途径,但对我来说,它们肯定是重要的。最重要的是,正如Sonia Hernández所写的,“即使PLM和magonismo衰落了,无政府主义思想[及其直接行动运动]在整个革命和革命后时期仍然相关,他们的精神在今天的斗争中是显而易见的。”他们的思想和生活不仅继续激励着反抗运动,而且还为反抗运动提供了信息,包括20世纪60年代和70年代的奇卡纳/奥运动,当时戈麦斯Quiñones宣称,magonistas“作为理论家和组织者,对奇卡诺社区和m<s:1>西戈族的思想氛围和政治进程做出了重大贡献”。事实上,他继续说,magonistas给Chicana/o运动留下了“一份爱、自我牺牲、理想和组织模式的遗产,从中汲取批判性的教训。”因此,我同意艾略特·杨(Elliott Young)的观点,他写道:“反复讲述这段历史,就像利特尔Hernández所说的那样,就像夜间照料一堆火,有助于保持余烬的温暖,等待氧气的涌入再次点燃火焰。”在写《坏墨西哥人》时,我加入了这段反叛历史的火线,激发了它可以回答的关于过去的问题,以及它可以为现在提供的教训。我的目标是把magonista的故事,以及它能教给我们的关于过去和现在的东西,带给尽可能多的人。所以,最后,我想指出评论者在评论中没有直接提到的事情:讲故事。只有Hernández承认,《坏墨西哥人》不是为学术读者精心设计的。她是对的。我为广泛而多样的读者写了《坏墨西哥人》。我不仅希望那些从未听说过magonistas的人,而且希望那些对墨西哥裔美国人、墨西哥人和边境地区的过去知之甚少的人能拿起这本书,了解美国现代史的这些关键领域。我特别为渴望看到自己处于美国历史中心的墨西哥裔美国青年写作,也为像magonistas一样敢于要求一个新世界的社会正义倡导者写作。我想让这些叛逆的读者感受到他们的祖先正在翻开历史的篇章。而且,为了忠实于magonista精神,这本书需要提供信息和启发。为了做到这一点,我把自己改造成了一名作家,与我的编辑密切合作,培养我讲故事的技巧,这是我们作为历史学家很少接受过的训练。这是一项困难但令人兴奋的工作,除了证据和论点外,还优先考虑了故事的节奏和弧线。一稿又一稿,我成长为一名作家。当《洛杉矶时报》拉丁档案编辑菲德尔Martínez评
{"title":"Author's Response","authors":"Kelly Lytle Hernández","doi":"10.1215/15476715-10581349","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1215/15476715-10581349","url":null,"abstract":"I want to begin by thanking Labor: Studies in Working-Class History for selecting Bad Mexicans: Race, Empire, and Rebellion in the Borderlands as its Big Book for 2022. It has been an honor to engage with the Labor and Working-Class History Association community and, especially, with Sonia Hernández, John Tutino, and Elliott Young, who so graciously accepted invitations to read and comment on the book. I will keep my reflections brief, as the readers have all made fair critiques of Bad Mexicans, including its strengths and weaknesses.Elliott Young and Sonia Hernández both comment on the book's embrace of a transnational approach to history. Young, who cofounded the Tepoztlán Institute for the Transnational History of the Americas, an institute I once attended back in 2008, writes that Bad Mexicans joins a forgotten but reemerging tradition of telling “stories that cross and spill over borders.” As he notes, the first page of Bad Mexicans jumps the border, launching a narrative “journey that weaves back and forth across the US-Mexico border to tell a story of a transnational anticapitalist movement at the birth of revolutionary Mexico.” Hernández, herself an intrepid chronicler of cross-border and revolutionary histories, writes that “magonismo, in many ways the perfect subject for a transnational study, lends itself to creating models of scholarship based on transnational, global efforts of solidarity.” Writing a borderlands history, one that sits comfortably at the intersection of nations and within an orbit of its own (“ni de aquí ni de allá,” as Hernández's grandmother might put it) was certainly one of my goals with this book. I am thrilled that these two distinguished historians of transnational history have identified the book's borderlands frame as well executed.Each reviewer notes that historians of the Mexican Revolution debate the “importance of the magonistas in the course of the [Mexican] revolution,” given that relatively few Mexicans, on either side of the border, actively supported the magonistas in their all-out “war on capital, authority, and the Church.” As John Tutino details, the magonista platform was too anticlerical and too liberal for mass support. Similarly, as Hernández observes, leading voices among the magonistas, namely Ricardo Flores Magón and Librado Rivera, “lost many allies who saw them as intransigent and stubborn.” In turn, the magonistas “never provoke[d] mass mobilizations, while thousands joined Villista risings just across the border and thousands more rose in Zapatista communities south of Mexico City.” Elliott Young makes the point with an important question—“Just who were these protagonists of the Mexican Revolution?”—and notes that Bad Mexicans does not address how the magonistas ideologically jived with the various factions that went on to fight in the revolution. These observations are correct. The magonistas did not lead the Mexican Revolution, the 1917 Mexican Constitution was not as radical as they ","PeriodicalId":43329,"journal":{"name":"Labor-Studies in Working-Class History of the Americas","volume":"49 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135389973","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581573
Lutz Raphael
This book deals with a research topic that has become highly politicized since the Trump presidency in the United States and the rise of strong nationalist and right-wing populist movements in Europe: the social and political upheaval linked to what is commonly described or named as the deindustrialization of the advanced capitalist countries in the West after 1970. Historians have been—by profession—shy to engage in debates on the present crises of Western democracies or the decline of organized labor due to the dismantling of large sectors of traditional industries “in the Western Industrialized World” (as this book calls western Europe and North America). But attitudes changed under the impact of present political conflicts. Today the door is open to innovative empirical research looking back to the last decades of the twentieth century and searching for the long-term consequences of the decrease of jobs in industry, mass unemployment, and increasing social and economic inequalities in the highly industrialized countries of the West.The German historian Sebastian Voigt has edited a book whose contributors engage such questions. Until very recently, most historians working on the transformation of industrial societies in the 1970s or 1980ss concentrated on national cases. This volume tries to transcend this status quo and open comparative views starting from the recent German debate about the transformations “since the boom.” In the German debate this term means that the end of the postwar period of high growth rates, based on high industrial output and employment, opened an era of cultural and political uncertainty and structural change. It ended around the turn of the millennium when new economic, social, and political patterns crystallized.This book uses case studies in West Germany, the United Kingdom, and France to echoes approaches dealing with the 1970s and 1980s as years of what Bruce Schulman has called “the great shift in American culture, society and politics.” For example, Jessica Burch writes on direct selling as a flexible response to mass unemployment and the loss of industrial jobs, and Eileen Boris examines the precarity of migrant domestic workers, mostly women, whose number grew rapidly as a result of the rising demand in middle- and upper-class families and couples profiting from their rise of income. These two case studies illustrate the social consequences of this shift in the United States, where the political, cultural, and social ruptures were much deeper than in western European countries. These two case studies must be read with an eye to the background of increasing economic inequality, deepening regional differences, and rising culture wars. Even the UK case, while generally nearest to the United States, is different. Sina Fabian underlines the ongoing growth of private consumption during the 1970s. The return of mass poverty in Britain resulted from the economic shock therapy of the Thatcher government during the c
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Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581293
Lucas Poy
Abstract In recent years, scholars doing research on the anticommunist and social democratic tradition developed an interpretation in which socialist internationalism is portrayed not as opposed to nationalism but instead as complementary. This allowed them to move away from older perspectives and to examine the main features of international cooperation among socialists in a more positive light. Its substantial and convincing contributions notwithstanding, this literature also displays important shortcomings. Not only does it minimize the challenge that nationalism did pose to transnational solidarities; it is also too focused on Europe and therefore overlooks a more serious limit to internationalism, namely a perspective that proclaimed a principle of color-blind solidarity among all peoples of the world but in practice built a much more limited transnational community of workers either born in Europe or of European descent. This article engages with these historiographical trends and complicates our knowledge of socialist internationalism in the 1920s by exploring a unique and underresearched event, the “World Migration Congress,” held in London in 1926 and jointly organized by the International Federation of Trade Unions and the Labour and Socialist International, the main transnational networks of trade unionists and political parties of the social democratic tradition. Drawing on the idea that international organizations and meetings can be used as “observation points” for studying global history, the article uses the prolegomena to, the preparations for, and the discussions of this congress as a lens to understand the stances of socialist parties and reformist trade unions regarding the question of migration in the 1920s, explaining to what extent, and for what reason, they have changed in comparison with the prewar period. Moreover, it shows that the stances on migration were intertwined in many ways with socialist and labor perspectives on colonialism and condescending views of the “colored peoples” of the world.
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Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581307
John Tutino
The revolution that began in Mexico in 1910–11 generated pivotal transformations in Mexico and North America. Political wars and social insurgencies mixed to forge a new Mexican regime that promised—and partially delivered—radical land redistributions, unprecedented labor rights, and resource nationalizations that brought new possibilities to Mexicans and newly complex and always contested ties between Mexico and the United States. The Porfirio Díaz regime, which ruled Mexico from 1876 to 1911, had mixed political closures with often predatory liberal development. Postrevolutionary Mexico was no utopia, but popular pressures forced changes that benefited many—while driving others north in search of work and new lives, building an expansive Mexican America on once-Mexican lands.1Attempts to understand the origins, conflicts, and consequences of Mexico's decade of revolution persist and evolve, long shaped by political polarities, shifting ideologies, and changing interests in Mexico, the United States, and beyond. We now see the decade of revolution that began in 1910 not as a singular process but as a mix of contradictory conflicts—social and political, cultural and gendered—grounded in Mexico yet always engaging US interests and powers, always tied to larger global challenges marked by the First and Second World Wars and, between them, the Great Depression.2Kelly Lytle Hernández's Bad Mexicans now offers a culminating new analysis of the roots and limits of Mexico's revolution in borderlands that by 1910 were becoming ever more transnational. Focusing on Ricardo Flores Magón and the movement he sparked, she brings new understanding to key political conflicts that preceded the revolution and marked its beginnings.The political and ideological efforts of Flores Magón and the Partido Liberal Mexicano (PLM) are long recognized. The year 1968 proved pivotal: James Cockroft published Precursors of the Mexican Revolution, bringing the PLM to the center of transnational historical conversations;3 John Womack followed with Zapata and the Mexican Revolution, detailing the agrarian insurrections that surged south of Mexico City as PLM challenges waned in the North.4 And Luis González y González offered Pueblo en vilo, the history of a town steeped in religion that stood aside from the revolution swirling all around—to later rise against “revolutionary” powers in the 1920s.5Also in 1968, the Mexican regime killed hundreds of protesting students at Tlatelolco, then hosted the Olympics to proclaim the nation's global emergence; there, on the global stage of Mexico City's Olympic Stadium, Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised their fists to protest US racism. That year demanded new understandings of the inseparable histories of Mexico and the United States—and the revolution that tied them together in enduring contradictions.It was also in 1968 that Adolfo Gilly, an Argentine held in Díaz's Lecumberri Penitentiary for running guns from Chiapas to Guatemalan rebe
1910年至1911年在墨西哥开始的这场革命在墨西哥和北美产生了关键的变革。政治战争和社会叛乱混合在一起,形成了一个新的墨西哥政权,这个政权承诺并部分兑现了激进的土地再分配、前所未有的劳工权利和资源国有化,这给墨西哥人带来了新的可能性,也给墨西哥和美国之间带来了新的复杂的、总是有争议的关系。波尔菲里奥Díaz政权从1876年到1911年统治墨西哥,将政治封闭与经常掠夺性的自由发展混合在一起。革命后的墨西哥不是乌托邦,但民众的压力迫使变革使许多人受益,同时驱使其他人向北寻找工作和新生活,在曾经是墨西哥人的土地上建立了一个广阔的墨西哥裔美国。试图理解墨西哥十年革命的起源、冲突和后果,长期以来,墨西哥、美国和其他国家的政治两极分化、意识形态的转变和利益的变化塑造了这场革命。我们现在看到,始于1910年的十年革命不是一个单一的过程,而是一个矛盾冲突的混合体——社会和政治、文化和性别冲突——以墨西哥为基础,但总是与美国的利益和权力联系在一起,总是与更大的全球挑战联系在一起,以第一次和第二次世界大战为标志,2凯利·利特尔Hernández《坏墨西哥人》现在对墨西哥边境革命的根源和局限性进行了新的高潮分析,到1910年,墨西哥边境革命变得越来越跨国。她专注于里卡多·弗洛雷斯Magón和他引发的运动,对革命之前和标志着革命开始的关键政治冲突有了新的理解。弗洛雷斯Magón和墨西哥自由党(PLM)的政治和意识形态努力早已得到认可。1968年是关键的一年:詹姆斯·考克洛夫特(James Cockroft)出版了《墨西哥革命的前奏》(Precursors of Mexico Revolution),将人民解放运动(PLM)带到了跨国历史对话的中心;3约翰·沃马克(John Womack)随后出版了《萨帕塔与墨西哥革命》(Zapata and Mexican Revolution),详细描述了随着人民解放运动(PLM)在北方面临的挑战逐渐减少,墨西哥城南部出现的土地起义。一个沉浸在宗教的小镇的历史,远离了周围的革命,后来在20世纪20年代兴起反对“革命”力量。同样在1968年,墨西哥政权在特拉特洛尔科(tlatelco)杀害了数百名抗议学生,然后举办了奥运会,以宣告该国在全球的崛起;在墨西哥城奥林匹克体育场的全球舞台上,汤米·史密斯和约翰·卡洛斯举起拳头抗议美国的种族主义。那一年要求人们对墨西哥和美国不可分割的历史有新的认识,也要求人们对将两国联系在一起的革命有新的认识。同样是在1968年,阿道夫·吉利(Adolfo Gilly),一个因从恰帕斯州向危地马拉叛军走私枪支而被关押在Díaz的Lecumberri监狱的阿根廷人,开始开启了对墨西哥革命的理解的新篇章——当时已经过去了50年。他在牢房里读了考克罗夫特、沃马克和González或González-and写了《revolución interrumpida》。这本书出版于1971年,详细描述了革命的愿望和限制,真正的收获和未兑现的承诺。它仍然是阅读最多的革命记录。新的研究接踵而至:Arnaldo Cordova的La ideología de La revolución mexicana挑战了政治神话;Rodney Anderson在他们自己的土地上的流亡者中回到了PLM和劳工。8 20世纪80年代带来了更多:Friedrich Katz在墨西哥的秘密战争中掀起了全球权力斗争中的革命。9 Francois-Xavier Guerra回到Díaz政权及其垮台艾伦·奈特在《墨西哥革命》中提供了大量的政治综合。11我在《从起义到革命》中探讨了农业基础。12约翰·哈特的《革命的墨西哥》将美国的权力与墨西哥的政治派别和民众运动联系起来然后,在20世纪90年代,卡茨的《潘乔·维拉的生活与时代》问世,与沃马克的《萨帕塔》并驾齐驱,阐明了一位受欢迎的领袖和强大的运动;14乔纳森·布朗的《石油与革命》将能源推向了舞台;15珍妮·珀内尔探讨了为什么一些社区坚持农业目标,而另一些社区则在20世纪20年代以克里斯特罗斯的身份反抗新政权16Gilly与El Cárdenismo的回归将社会改革、石油征用和美国在20世纪30年代重新思考政权巩固的力量联系在一起。随着新千年的开始,学者们把目光转向了革命时期的墨西哥城:约翰·李尔深入研究工人问题;凯瑟琳·布利斯关注卖淫和公共卫生;巴勃罗·皮卡托探索犯罪和城市黑社会然后是对关键海湾地区的新观点:Myna Santiago在《石油生态学》中回归石油、土地和劳动力;21 Aurora Gómez Galvarriato对韦拉克鲁斯州Orizaba的工业、劳动力和革命进行了新的深入理解。
{"title":"Seeking Revolution in the US-Mexican Borderlands","authors":"John Tutino","doi":"10.1215/15476715-10581307","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1215/15476715-10581307","url":null,"abstract":"The revolution that began in Mexico in 1910–11 generated pivotal transformations in Mexico and North America. Political wars and social insurgencies mixed to forge a new Mexican regime that promised—and partially delivered—radical land redistributions, unprecedented labor rights, and resource nationalizations that brought new possibilities to Mexicans and newly complex and always contested ties between Mexico and the United States. The Porfirio Díaz regime, which ruled Mexico from 1876 to 1911, had mixed political closures with often predatory liberal development. Postrevolutionary Mexico was no utopia, but popular pressures forced changes that benefited many—while driving others north in search of work and new lives, building an expansive Mexican America on once-Mexican lands.1Attempts to understand the origins, conflicts, and consequences of Mexico's decade of revolution persist and evolve, long shaped by political polarities, shifting ideologies, and changing interests in Mexico, the United States, and beyond. We now see the decade of revolution that began in 1910 not as a singular process but as a mix of contradictory conflicts—social and political, cultural and gendered—grounded in Mexico yet always engaging US interests and powers, always tied to larger global challenges marked by the First and Second World Wars and, between them, the Great Depression.2Kelly Lytle Hernández's Bad Mexicans now offers a culminating new analysis of the roots and limits of Mexico's revolution in borderlands that by 1910 were becoming ever more transnational. Focusing on Ricardo Flores Magón and the movement he sparked, she brings new understanding to key political conflicts that preceded the revolution and marked its beginnings.The political and ideological efforts of Flores Magón and the Partido Liberal Mexicano (PLM) are long recognized. The year 1968 proved pivotal: James Cockroft published Precursors of the Mexican Revolution, bringing the PLM to the center of transnational historical conversations;3 John Womack followed with Zapata and the Mexican Revolution, detailing the agrarian insurrections that surged south of Mexico City as PLM challenges waned in the North.4 And Luis González y González offered Pueblo en vilo, the history of a town steeped in religion that stood aside from the revolution swirling all around—to later rise against “revolutionary” powers in the 1920s.5Also in 1968, the Mexican regime killed hundreds of protesting students at Tlatelolco, then hosted the Olympics to proclaim the nation's global emergence; there, on the global stage of Mexico City's Olympic Stadium, Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised their fists to protest US racism. That year demanded new understandings of the inseparable histories of Mexico and the United States—and the revolution that tied them together in enduring contradictions.It was also in 1968 that Adolfo Gilly, an Argentine held in Díaz's Lecumberri Penitentiary for running guns from Chiapas to Guatemalan rebe","PeriodicalId":43329,"journal":{"name":"Labor-Studies in Working-Class History of the Americas","volume":"39 1","pages":"0"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2023-09-01","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"135389979","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581265
Tom Wayman
Its four stories still feature large windows,grey marble cladding at street leveland, above that, tan-colored brick. The structurecould be any downtown commercial buildingconstructed in 1912. Yet the place is a cenotaphwith an illegible inscription, is a union anthemdrowned out by traffic. The first fist hitsVic Midgley: pain explodes from his right ribsand before he can parry more, a punchslams into his jaw from the left.A constable has gunned down Albert Goodwin,evading the draft after he helped leadthe struggle for the eight-hour day at Trail's smelter.This while people still rememberhow some years before, the policeshot and killed Frank Rogers on picket dutyat the CPR yards. Midgley dodgesbut a swung chair legconnects with his face. In response toGoodwin's killing, the first civic general strikein Canada is underway this August afternoon.A fist plows into Midgley's stomach. He gaspsfor air, collapses forward. Throughout the buildingwindows are being smashed, records and filespulled from desks and cabinets and scatteredor tossed along with furniture onto the pavement.The strike is a protest, too, at four yearsof the pointless War to End All Wars in France.Once the streetcars stopped running,chamber of commerce membersorganized a mob of veterans to attackstrike supporters, directing them here tothe Trades and Labour Council's six-year-oldlabour temple, the largest west of Chicago. Midgley,Council secretary, has curled himself on the floor.A boot ploughs into his right side: twelve-, fourteen-,sixteen-hour work days. Another kick: subsistencewages. A rain of boots: no government charity—you find employment or starve. No safety standards.If injured on the job and can't work, your only recourseis sue the boss, as if you could afford that,let alone pay a doctor. Make him kiss the flag,someone shouts. The banner is slapped againstMidgley's face. Blood from his nose andthe sockets of his broken-off teeth stain the fabric.The building is lost to the Council in 1920but its song endures. Why should we who work,the lyrics proclaim, have no sayin how the wealth we create is spent?Why does democracy cease at the factory gate,the office door? Because of our jobs, the city livesanother day. Yet authority wants us invisible,productive, obedient. For now we are nothingto them. But we shall be free. We shallbe all.
它的四层楼仍然有大窗户,街道上的灰色大理石覆层,上面是棕褐色的砖。该建筑可以是任何建于1912年的市中心商业建筑。然而,这个地方是一座铭文难以辨认的纪念碑,是一首被交通淹没的联邦颂歌。第一拳打在米奇利身上,他的右肋骨一阵疼痛,还没来得及挡开,一拳从左边打在他的下巴上。一名警官开枪打死了阿尔伯特·古德温,他在帮助领导Trail冶炼厂争取八小时工作制的斗争后逃避了兵役。此时,人们还记得几年前,警察射杀了在CPR场地执行警戒任务的弗兰克·罗杰斯(Frank Rogers)。米奇利躲开了,但一把摇椅的腿与他的脸相接。作为对古德温被杀的回应,今年8月下午,加拿大正在举行首次公民大罢工。一拳打在米奇利的肚子上。他喘着气,向前瘫倒。整栋楼的窗户都被砸碎了,唱片和文件从桌子和橱柜里被拽出来,和家具一起散落在人行道上。这次罢工也是对法国四年来毫无意义的“结束所有战争的战争”的抗议。有轨电车一停运,商会成员就组织了一群退伍军人袭击罢工支持者,把他们带到芝加哥西部最大的工会和劳工委员会(Trades and Labour Council)有六年历史的劳工神庙。议会秘书米奇利蜷缩在地板上。他的右腿上被靴子戳了一下:每天工作12、14、16个小时。另一个问题:维持生计的工资。雨点般的靴子:没有政府的慈善——你要么找工作,要么挨饿。没有安全标准。如果在工作中受伤而无法工作,你唯一的办法就是起诉老板,就好像你负担得起那样,更不用说请医生了。让他亲吻国旗,有人喊道。横幅打在米奇利的脸上。他鼻子和牙槽里的血弄脏了衣服。这座建筑在1920年失去了议会,但它的歌声却流传了下来。歌词中写道,为什么我们这些工作的人对我们创造的财富是如何花掉的没有发言权呢?为什么民主在工厂门口、办公室门口就停止了?因为我们的工作,这座城市又活了一天。然而权威却希望我们默默无闻,多产,顺从。现在我们对他们来说什么都不是。但我们将获得自由。我们会成为所有人。
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Pub Date : 2023-09-01DOI: 10.1215/15476715-10581419
Nick Juravich
“Class is central to everyday life,” write Robert Forrant and Mary Anne Trasciatti in the introduction to their new edited collection, Where Are the Workers? Labor's Stories at Museums and Historic Sites. “Yet,” they continue, “the stories of how working-class people have fought for . . . things that make life worth living remain unfamiliar to large numbers of Americans” (1). Forrant and Trasciatti detail the reasons for this unfamiliarity, from the precipitous decline of organized labor (and, with it, the spaces and occasions in which workers and their communities once encountered this history) to the “abysmal” state of labor history education in public schools, as well as at many museums and public historical sites. Thankfully, they note, “public historians have called for more public histories of labor” over the past decade, and these calls have coincided with renewed worker militancy across many professions and regions of the United States (2). “The time is ripe,” Forrant and Trasciatti argue, “for an expansion of place-based public labor history” (4). Where Are the Workers? is their effort to catalog and analyze how and where place-based public labor history is happening already and why it is indeed so urgent.The collection is impressively wide-ranging and diverse. Forrant and Trasciatti are experienced practitioners in well-known public labor history projects, but in compiling this volume, they have reached well beyond the familiar. Workers of many races, generations, and occupations are represented herein, and the practitioners chronicling their struggles are equally varied. They include museum founders, curators reinterpreting beloved spaces, and archivists and organizers working together to preserve and present new records of working-class lives and labors. Many readers will find one or two chapters in Where Are the Workers? that speak directly to their interests, or belong on their syllabi, while those seeking surveys of both public history and labor history will find the collection useful as an overview.In keeping with Forrant and Trasciatti's charge to show how public history can inform and inspire present and future struggles, the authors in part I of the volume offer useful insights on the programs and partnerships they have built, as well as the history they curate. The West Virginia Mine Wars Museum was inspired by the state's 2018 teacher strike—in which educators donned the red bandannas worn by striking miners a century earlier—to establish annual “Red Bandanna” awards honoring the work of organizers in West Virginia today. In Barre, Vermont; Lawrence, Massachusetts; and Columbus, Georgia, curators and educators have embraced ongoing processes of reinterpretation that incorporate new sites, new institutional partnerships, and new perspectives, with the goal of creating “spaces defined by doing, not by being” (44).Karen Sieber and Elijah Gaddis's chapter on the Loray Mill is exemplary in its discussions of process. The authors d
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