Steelworkers and Mutual Dependence in the Former Soviet Union
STEPHEN CROWLEY
Why, despite
tremendous economic hardship, have industrial workers in almost every sector of
the former Soviet Union remained quiescent? Why, despite the disintegration of
the Soviet state, do the same trade unions, formerly dominated by the Communist
Party and largely despised by their constituency, still hold a virtual monopoly
on the representation of workers? As the former Soviet republics confront the
daunting task of economic reform, few questions can be as significant as those
concerning industrial workers, the predominant social group in this still very
industrial society. What effect will privatization, and with it unemployment
and the very probable deindustrialization of the economy, have on the former
Soviet working class? How will workers respond?
This study began as
a look at a small question within a much larger event. The larger event was the
1989 Soviet coal miners’ strike, the first mass industrial strike in the Soviet
Union in over sixty-five years. Over four hundred thousand miners in several
regions and republics seized control of their mines, occupied city squares, and
advanced broad economic demands. The small question was this: why, in such
centers of strike activity as the cities of Donetsk and Novokuznetsk, did
steelworkers remain at the mills? Or put in broader terms, not why was there so
much labor unrest in the Soviet Union, but why was there so little?
If the miners' actions
had not continued beyond the first strike, the problem would not seem so
intractable. But the miners formed a self-described workers' movement, and
within two years, in March and April 1991, they renewed their strike with much
more radical goals: they renounced their past economic demands and sought to
lead a general strike aimed at forcing Gorbachev to resign, giving independence
to the republics, and removing the Communist Party from power. Moreover, this
radicalization occurred against a backdrop of political fragmentation and
increasing economic hardship. The miners have since continued their militancy
and strike activity, while steelworkers and almost every other category of
industrial worker have hardly made a sound.
This question of
workers' collective action is addressed through a "most similar case
study" of coal miners and steelworkers. Since these two groups are
involved in heavy industry and are often located in the very same communities,
many variables can be held constant [1]. Moreover, this contrast in behavior
holds in two very different settings-Ukraine and Siberian Russia, located in
different republics and ultimately different states, with sharply contrasting
market positions-allowing for still greater explanatory power.
The present study briefly
enumerates alternative explanations for worker mobilization (which will be
examined in detail following the case studies) and then examines how previous
explanations of the relationship of workers to the Soviet state might account
for the miners strikes. An alter-native perspective is advanced, that of the
"mutual dependence" of the worker and the Soviet state enterprise. It
is argued that due to the short-age economy the worker has been dependent on
the state enterprise for the distribution of goods and services in short
supply, while the enterprise has been dependent on workers in a labor-short
economy. The distribution of goods and services through the workplace in the
former Soviet Union ties workers to the firm and prevents collective action.
Moreover, because the level of these benefits varies from industry to industry
and from firm to firm, it can account for differences in strike activity. This
thesis is examined in case studies of two steel plants, located in the center
of the miners strikes.
EXPLAINING STRIKES
There has been no
shortage of attempts to explain the presence or lack of working-class activism
in certain groups [2]. The present case of mobilization of one group but not
another within the same community leads one first to explanations rooted in
industry. Kerr and Siegel's isolated community thesis has been the classic
explanation for the higher level of strike activity in certain industries. The
fact is explained by the "isolated communities" in which they live,
where "the miners, the sailors, the longshoremen, the loggers ... form
isolated masses, almost a ‘race apart’," and fail to form the cross cutting
cleavages" which characterize the multi-industry town" [3]. A s we
shall see, however, the opposite was the case: miners in multi-industrial towns
were more radical and strike prone than miners in isolated mining communities.
Another potential explanation for collective action in certain groups
is relative deprivation theory [4]. For this explanation, once the predominant
interpretation, to be valid, we would expect miners' conditions to have
objectively deteriorated relative to other workers and for miners to have
experienced a greater subjective sense of deprivation. However, while their
conditions are indeed quite bad, it will be shown that during this period of
dramatic economic decline, steelworkers suffered significant deprivations and
injustices, and the steel plants themselves were centers of serious conflict.
Resource mobilization
theory particularly as employed by Tilly and his collaborators, is more useful
here [5]. This perspective holds that what is necessary is not simply the
desire but the ability to carry out strikes and other collective action with
some chance of success. A related approach has focused on technology and the
resulting organization of work as a source of obstacles or advantages to
workers' collective action. Thus, that "coal miners around the world are
typically the 'aristocracy' of militant labor" is said to be due in no
small part to the fact that in mining, the very nature of the labor
process-such as the extreme danger and the close trust this engenders among work
partners-promotes unity [6].
Conversely, the wide
variety of skills required in a modern integrated steel mill appears to create
obstacles to unity. These differences in skill extend both vertically and
horizontally : job ladders create a greater hierarchy within the basic
professions of steel manufacturing than in coal extraction, and each shop
engages in different tasks, which means that workers often face very different
production problems [7].
One further
significant technological difference between coal mines and steel mills is
size. While the workforce of a mine ranges in number from one to several
thousand, the giant steel plants in the former Soviet Union can range from
several thousand to over seventy thousand employees. Beginning with Marx, some
have hypothesized that "the larger the factory, the more workers interact
with one another, and the less they interact with their superiors" [8].
Others, to the contrary, cite the collective action problem in arguing that
large plants deter solidarity [9].
We will return to
each of these potential explanations in the final section of the paper. Here,
however, one needs first to address the institution-al context of the Soviet
political economy to understand why other workers in the now former Soviet
Union have not joined the coal miners in the past four years. Western scholars
have advanced several theoretical models to explain the labor peace in the
post-Stalin era; each suggests a dissimilar explanation for the presence or
lack of strikes in the former Soviet Union [10].
In the totalitarian
view, workers have been deeply alienated, above all by the fear of repression
that kept them from organizing to defend their rights. Consequently one would
expect greater strike activity, since in the absence of state repression,
workers can give voice to dissatisfaction held in for decades [11]. Yet strike activity and worker organization
has been extremely low in most sectors, well after the downfall of the
Communist Party and the Soviet state, suggesting the need for another
explanation.
The most popular
explanation for labor peace in the post-Stalinist Soviet Union has been that of
the "social contract" between the regime and society, of which
industrial workers were among the main beneficiaries [12]. In contrast to the
totalitarian model which has difficulty reconciling continued social peace with
the decline in overt repression, the social contract model emphasizes voluntary
compliance based on the state's ability to "deliver the goods."
Political elites favored blue-collar workers, above all through policies of
frill employment, roughly egalitarian wages, and the toleration of slack work
rules; in return, workers provided the social basis of support for the state.
The problems with
such a conception soon become clear, however [13], in particular, with the
often implicit assumption that Soviet industrial workers were conservative and
supported the status quo. This conception does not accord well with the demands
made by the striking coal miners [14]; nor with the demands of steelworkers who
did not strike. Moreover, this assumption is grounded in the behaviorist
premise that, with the lessening of overt repression, "social peace"
must be explained by voluntary compliance and legitimacy; it misses hidden
sources of conflict and the obstacles to translating consciousness into
collective action.
Others have
suggested an alternative approach, one that might be labeled “workers'
control”. Burawoy and Stark, for example, using a lower level of analysis, both
found sources of conflict despite the lack of strikes or other collective
action [15]. They also built on the insights of Janos Kornai, who argued that
the economic mechanism in state socialist societies that was able to create
stunning rates of growth eventually produced widespread shortages that put a
brake on further growth [16]. The continual shortage of the factors of
production, including labor, created uncertainty in the labor process and in
turn led management to cede control to core production workers. The labor
shortage also removed the sanction of firing workers for breaking work rules or
lowering productivity, furthering workers’ control over the production process.
Accordingly, it is
not elite preferences but the economic system that creates labor and other
shortages and thereby gives workers autonomy. If workers in a capitalist
economy are atomized through labor market com-petition and the continual threat
of unemployment, the situation in state socialist societies has been quite
different. In Hirschman's terms, while workers in these societies have
traditionally been denied "voice," they have used the possibilities
of individual "exit," leaving jobs in a labor-short economy to find a
better deal for themselves elsewhere [17].
MUTUAL DEPENDENCE
Yet if workers hold
such power resources, why have there not been more examples of collective
action among workers in these societies, especially when voice became a real
possibility? It is argued here that the worker in a state socialist society has
been in a position of dependence, not simply as an individual dependent on the
state, but as a working person dependent on the place of work-in particular the
industrial enterprise - as the direct provider of one's basic life needs [18].
If a worker in capitalist society received a wage packet and health benefits, a
worker in state socialist society received that and also housing, access to the
enterprise hospital, to day care and other forms of education for one's
children, often employment for one's spouse, trips to rest homes and vacation
centers, and consumer goods ranging from automobiles to perishable food items.
Such a set of ties can be a powerful disincentive to collective action,
particularly when the distribution of these goods and services takes place
largely at the discretion of management and when alternatives are few.
This depiction of
enterprise paternalism is not entirely new. Andrew Walder's account of
"Communist neo-traditionalism" speaks of social and .economic
dependence on the enterprise, political dependence on management, and personal
dependence on one's superiors. Nevertheless, although his book has received
well-deserved praise as a case study of industrial relations in contemporary
China, it does not successfully make the case that his “type-concept” of
Chinese industrial relations is among the "generic features of modern
communism," [19] since unlike the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, China
remains an overwhelmingly peasant society. The implication is that workers have
not faced excess demand for their labor; rather, they have experienced
considerable unemployment. This may explain Walder's rigid model of domination,
which offers little chance for subordinates to escape their plight:
accommodating themselves to the sys-tem is the only option. More recently
Walder has revised his position along the lines suggested here, arguing that
because of the lifetime tenure of Chinese workers in state enterprises,
management is dependent on them and hence must provide a high level of benefits
in order to maintain productivity [20].
Indeed, in the
Soviet Union this dependence has been not simply top-down, but also two-way, or
"mutual": the enterprise is dependent on the worker in an economy
that has created shortages of all inputs, including labor, and workers are
dependent on the enterprise in that virtually all of their life needs are met
through the workplace [21]. Workers have often used the taut labor market to
obtain a better packet of enterprise benefits elsewhere [22], leading managers
to acquire better goods and services in order to retain current workers and
attract others. Not surprisingly, turnover occurs most frequently among young
(and single) workers, in part because the spouse and children of married
workers are also dependent on the enterprise, many seniority rules discourage
turnover, and the wait for housing is several years at the least. Moreover, the
goods and services at the disposal of the enterprise are distributed very
unevenly, in order to retain those skilled workers most needed for production. In
this way the provision of goods and services by the enterprise forms a distinct
version of the internal labor markets found in capitalist firms [23].
Workers, I argue,
are caught in a collective action problem: the same selective incentives that
enterprise managers have used to prevent workers from acting individually and
seeking work elsewhere can also be used to prevent workers from acting
collectively [24]. While workers everywhere face the problem of collective
action [25], workers in Soviet enterprises have run the risk that an
unsuccessful strike would likely deprive the initiators not only of wages, but
also of housing, day care, summer vacations, and the rest [26].
How were the miners
able to overcome this dilemma? The distribution of these goods and services is
also highly uneven between industries, depending on the preferences of planners
and the ability of management to barter its product. In some industries and
enterprises workers have been better provided for, while in others, such as
coal mining, workers have had less to lose. Hence, the variation in the level
of this enterprise dependence between industries and even firms can account for
much of the variations in strike activity.
STEELWORKERS
The two steel plants
examined here are located in the two epicenters of the miners strikes. The
Soviet economy has been characterized as "a coal and steel economy"
[27], and the two industries remain closely linked in the former Soviet
republics. As a research strategy, it was hoped that the plants' locations, so
close to the miners strikes, would more readily reveal the fault lines of
conflict within the plants. The plants are also located in two very different
regions - the Donbass and the Kuzbass -
which during the course of events examined here became part of different
sovereign states.
The plants
themselves are quite different. The Donetsk Metallurgical Factory (or Donetskii)
was established in the late 1860s by James Hughes, a Scottish entrepreneur.28Th
e plant, like the other old plants in Ukraine, had been rebuilt and enlarged
during the Soviet era but still relies on outdated open-hearth technology. Its
current workforce numbers more than seventeen thousand, quite large by world
standards though not so in the Soviet Union.29 The history of the West Siberian
Metallurgical Complex could not be more different. Whereas blast furnaces have
been fired at Donetskii for over 120 years, West Siberian was constructed in
the 1960s and 1970s. This placed it on the cutting edge of the Soviet steel
industry.30 Steel at the complex is manufactured mainly in oxygen converters rather
than through open-hearth casting. The West Siberian Metallurgical Complex
employs over thirty-two thousand workers. Because workers in both plants acted
similarly despite these strong contrasts in size, age, technology, market
position, region, and ultimately different states, the conclusions about the differences
between steelworkers and coal miners are strengthened.
The following case
studies are based in part on in-depth interviews with steelworkers in both
regions, both worker-activists and workers met at random, and in part, indeed
largely, on a close reading of plant newspapers (mnogotirazhki) during the
two-year period surrounding the miners strikes. The strikes had a strong effect
on these plants, and along with the greater political changes developing
throughout society, helped turn the papers into real forums for debate and even
sources of conflict between management and the workforce.
From the central press,
one got the impression that steelworkers actively opposed the coal strikes,
which directly affected steel production. In an interesting twist on
working-class rhetoric, telegrams sent to striking miners from steel plants in
1989 and in 1991 appealed to "working-class solidarity" in asking
them to go back to work.31 Closer inspection reveals a more complex picture,
however. These plants were indeed conflict ridden, and the miners strikes shook
them greatly. Strikes occurred at both plants, though they never grew beyond
the level of a single shop.
In fact the West
Siberian complex experienced strikes several months before the July 1989 miners
strike. The first strike was led by an independent "contract brigade,
"which would have been paid handsomely for fulfilling its plan but was
unable to do so because of the lack of materials. The demands quickly went
beyond norms and supplies to questioning why certain categories of workers had
rights to additional holiday pay, while others did not. This strike was
followed a month later by another in a different shop with almost identical
demands.
Still one month
before the miners’ strike, workers in the rail transport shop presented demands
to the administration that were very similar to those the miners would present,
including additional pay for evening and night shifts, an increase in the
regional wage coefficient, and reductions in the number of managerial
personnel. And "to accelerate the resolution of the demands and to not
allow them to be shelved," workers in the shop formed an "initiative
group," an act taken as an implicit strike threat.
When the first coal
strike broke out in fill in Ukraine and Siberia, both plants held meetings and
passed resolutions stating, "We support the demands, but reject the strike
as a method." "Workers committees" were set up by managers, with
the rather clear goal of extracting concessions from the Ministry of Ferrous
Metallurgy. Workers tried to form genuine workers committees and to lead
strikes, but their efforts were thwarted.
Although neither
West Siberian nor Donetskii (nor any other major industrial plant, for that
matter) struck along with the miners in July 1989, these plants were hardly
without conflict. Clearly, in contrast to the coal mines, the administration
retained the upper hand in steel and other plants; the question remains how it
did so. The explanation given most often by the participants themselves-whether
managers, trade union officials, or worker-activists in favor of a strike-for
the lack of strike activity has to do with the role of these enterprises not
only in producing steel but also in reproducing their labor force, that is, in
providing goods and ser-vices to satisfy virtually all the life needs of the
plant's employees. Moreover, the distribution of these goods and services
created the greatest source of conflict within these enterprises.
ENTERPRISE
DEPENDENCE
Soviet industrial
enterprises, in the face of shortages of consumer goods and services, as well
as labor, developed a unique system for providing their workforces with
services, from housing to food [32]. At
the Donetsk plant, as with many others, the factory provided vacations at its
centers on the Azov Sea, the Black Sea, and elsewhere, had a close relationship
with a state farm, as well as a department for subsidiary agriculture. The
enterprise also distributed such scarce durable goods as automobiles. By
providing nurse-care for workers' children and payments for workers' funerals,
the plant's services went quite literally from cradle to grave [33]. Indeed,
the plant directly provides half of the services to its borough, including
housing and transportation to and from work, so much so that it provided a base
for the plant director's successful campaign for the borough seat in the
Ukrainian Congress of Peoples' Deputies [34].
At West Siberian,
the workforce was even more dependent on the enterprise for goods and services;
located in harsh Siberia and so far from Moscow, the alternatives were that
much starker. At the same time, these conditions increased the difficulty of
attracting and retaining workers. Moreover, with its thirty-two thousand
employees, the plant was twice the size of Donetskii, and its newness and
relative profitability left greater resources at its disposal. If the Donetsk
plant, the biggest in the city, had dominated the borough in which it was
situated, West Siberian was itself the entire borough, unimaginatively named
"Factory Borough."
The plant controlled
several vacation centers and eight pioneer camps, some as far away as Central
Asia and the Crimea. It had its own state farm, to which various shops sent gas
and other materials, as well as workers at harvest time. As this was apparently
insufficient to feed the workforce, the plant set up a rabbit farm and an
aquaculture program. The entire operation was supervised by the steel plant's
"deputy director for agriculture." Food production was further
expanded when the plant contracted with a Moscow engineering cooperative to
build a shop for producing sausage and other meat products at the plant. In
addition to the plant cafeterias, which provided workers with their main meal
of the day at subsidized prices, the plant had twelve stores selling foodstuffs
inside the production shops and two more selling consumer goods.
This description of
the social infrastructure of these enterprises creates the impression that all
the workers under the wings of the enterprise have been quite well provided
for. But given the enormous size of the workforces involved, these benefits are
rather less impressive when considered on a per capita basis. More importantly,
they were not distributed equally, and therein lies a major source of conflict
within the enterprise, one that workers challenged when the political
opportunity to do so presented itself. This enterprise paternalism has been
closely related to the labor shortage, with privileges distributed above all to
retain the skilled workers most in demand.
Thus, certain
occupations were given privileges in the distribution of housing, consumer
goods, such as cars and TVs, and vacation trips. Machine toolers and pipe
fitters might be given apartments in five years, whereas steel founders and
rollers had to wait ten to fifteen. This sort of uneven distribution was
illegal; what was allowed was privileged distribution to exemplary workers as
defined by management. Other workers greatly resented both forms of privileged
distribution.
The divisions were
not simply between skilled and unskilled workers, but were embedded in a
hierarchy that pervaded the life of the plant. If skilled workers were
privileged because of the need to retain them, service workers peripheral to
production were practically ignored. These latter were primarily women, who
serviced the plant's enormous social infra-structure, as cooks, teachers, and
janitors. Thus, in order to get housing, skilled cooks might leave the plant
cafeterias to work in steel production, where shop bosses, themselves short of
workers, were reluctant to let them return to their former professions [35].
Divisions also
occurred between shops. The economic reform program under Gorbachev not only
devolved some decision-making power from the ministry to the enterprise but
also made each subunit "economically accountable."A s a result, pay
and conditions began to vary widely between shops [36].
By far the shop in
the worst position at Donetskii was the open-hearth shop, which was over a
hundred years old. During the 1989 miners strike management only narrowly
averted a strike in that shop. Because of outmoded technology, the plan was not
being met, bonuses were withheld, pay declined, and workers left the shop for
jobs elsewhere, creating a vicious cycle. The situation in the shop became so
critical that workers in other shops were asked by the administration to
"render aid" to the open-hearth workers to increase their pay, as if they
were a Third World country [37].
In 1990, almost a
year after the proposal to render aid, the plant's labor council (STK) met to
discuss the tremendous problems of the open-hearth shop. The discussion revealed
the interrelation of production, turnover, and "social" problems. Rather
than production or turnover, "the discussion in the hall began with a no
less important problem today, and one, unfortunately, very interconnected, as
open-hearth workers more than once underlined, with the worsening of production
in the shop. This is the housing problem." According to the steelworkers,
"people are leaving production [work] because of the absence of housing,
[since] the line at the factory stands for fifteen to seventeen years."
After heated discussion, the council decided to grant additional privileges to
steel founders and assistant steel founders (decreasing the wait to five
years), since while "housing, undoubtedly, isn't the only cause [of the
shop's problem], it's one of the main problems" [38].
Many workers opposed
this method of solving the labor shortage through the privileged distribution
of housing, and fought for a single line for housing. For if the distribution
of housing was connected in the eyes of management with turnover, it was
connected in the eyes of the workforce with social justice, which meant
distribution according to a single line, rather than according to one's
position in the labor market or to one's status as an exemplary worker
(peredoviki).
At West Siberian it
was asked, "Why does belonging to a certain profession (machine tool
operator, wire drawer, metal worker) become the basis for receiving an
apartment at the front of the line? Why are rollers, steel founders, and
members of other professions worse?"[39]. At West Siberian the fight for a
single line for housing led to a protracted struggle within the enterprise, which
divided workers-the privileged and not-as well as workers and management, but
eventually the supporters of the single line prevailed. At Donetskii, the
conflict remained one over which categories of workers should be admitted to the
privileged housing line [40].
Oddly enough, as
market pressures increased, the steel plants began to devote more and more
attention to activities outside of steel production. This was especially so at
West Siberian, one of the newest and most profitable in the industry. In 1990
the plant contracted with a Turkish firm to construct a surgical wing for the
borough hospital. With the help of a German firm and a Yugoslavian construction
team, the plant began building a large furniture factory inside the steel
complex, with the first output earmarked for workers. In July 1990 it was said
that "the production of consumer goods is occupying an ever larger place
in our plant's activities." The plant opened a shop for assembly of
electronic devices, including VCRs. "This year the shop will produce
10,000 VCRs, and the next year 20,000" [41]. Since the local housing
construction agencies had fallen apart for lack of materials and especially
workers, the plant, with the help of foreign expertise, created its own construction
firm [42].
Even in 1993, after
the downfall of the Soviet Union, these steel plants continued to increase the
provision of goods and services. Donetskii increasingly used barter deals to
provide consumer goods to employees who could not afford the spiraling prices
on the market, while West Siberian built a savings bank, a shoe factory, and a
brewery at the plant, and also assured its employees that no one would be left
without a job [43]. In all this, talk of investment to increase steel production-the
plant's raison d'etre - was played down, though this would seem all the more
compelling under market conditions.
THE TRADE UNION
In theory, workers
had an array of organizations charged with defending their rights. Besides the
Communist Party, they were represented by the trade union and the Council of
the Labor Collective (STK). In reality, however, most workers saw these groups
as part of the problem rather than as its solution. The striking feature of the
Communist Party organizations in the enterprise during this period is how
little they seemed to matter as they withered and disappeared. Though party
activists continued to participate in plant meetings, the party committee
itself began to withdraw quietly into the background at Donetskii, while at
West Siberian it found itself increasingly on the defensive, as the Kuzbass
miners began calling for removal of the Communist Party from all enterprises.
When both were removed after the August 1992 putsch, their absence was not
readily apparent. The Communist Party was not the only organization forced to
justify itself in the face of the miners strikes and wider political change,
the STKs-intended to increase workers' self-management-were also called into
question. They spent most of their time handling the distribution of the
plants' goods and services. As such, they failed to define a role for
themselves distinct from the trade union.
Indeed, it was the
official trade union, still dominant at these and most other plants, that was
most fully integrated into the system of enterprise dependence. For instance,
at Donetskii, less than three weeks after the region's coal miners had first
filled city squares and seized control of mines, the trade union committee met
to discuss fulfilling the plan. The trade union chair announced, "In July
there were twenty absences from work, twenty-eight violations of public order,
and twenty-two cases of drunkenness.' The results of the latest round of
socialist competition were announced: the winning brigades received red
banners, a diploma, and a small monetary prize" [44].
But rather than
dealing with production questions, the trade unions spent most of their time
handling the distribution of the plant's goods and services. Even before the
miners’ strike, one trade union official at West Siberian criticized the union
in the following fashion:
It's no secret that some trade union
representative see their basic function as distributive, letting the main
problems get out of control, which immediately leads to conflicts between
workers and management.... In the course of many years, people began to relate
to the trade union in a purely consumer sense. The distribution of this or that
good ... became the chief indicator of the work of the trade union. The most
important questions, such as workers' safety, pay and rate setting, fell to
second place.
After the miners
strikes, the trade unions began to speak increasingly of defending the rights
of workers. Yet, in practice this meant increasing the amount of goods handed
out rather than worrying about safety, wages, and norms. For example, two
months after the miners first struck, at a plant wide conference at Donetskii
to elect a new trade union chair (the old one was reelected), a delegate from
the casting shop raised some serious issues: due to the lack of steel, his shop
had not fulfilled the plan for the second month, thereby cutting workers' wages
drastically. This apparently did not concern the trade union, however. "As
for the trade union committee," he added,
it has solved the
problem of the family vacation center on the Azov Sea. I consider this a social
victory for the trade union committee. And our children vacation at the pioneer
camp "Metallurgist.". . . Now many are saying that the trade union
should not be occupied with the problems of providing workers with potatoes,
meat, soap. But who will take care of these problems? I consider this the trade
union committee's job [45].
Others were not so
sure [46]. As workers learned more about how goods and services were distributed
within the enterprise, the trade unions became mired in scandal and workers
came increasingly to resent those who were supposed to represent them.
Over a year after
the miners first struck, little had changed. One dele-gate to a congress of the
steelworkers union, which had promised big changes, reported back: "It
became clear, very clear, what trade unions do. Now, we must look truth in the
eye, we devote ourselves to handing out tobacco and candy, distributing
consumer goods in short supply and so forth-anything but defending the
interests of workers." Another delegate said, "With such 'defenders,'
life will be very difficult under the market" [47].
ANALYSIS
Steelworkers did not
join the miners in striking, forming independent trade unions, and pressing
political demands on the government, I argue, because most industrial workers
in the Soviet Union, and now in the successor states, have found themselves in
a collective action problem. If all workers in a plant struck, they would all
be better off, since they would be able to control the distribution of goods
and services within the enterprise, much as the miners had done [48]. But if
one or more workers tried to lead a strike and failed, they would likely lose
access to the privileges distributed by management.
As a steelworker
from Magnitogorsk told an American historian: "We're completely dependent
on them. Food, clothes, apartments, furniture, day care, summer camps,
vacations-everything is allocated by them according to their lists, with which
they rule over our lives. Everyone has something to lose " [49].
Explaining why the
miners were the first to break out of this dilemma is not so hard. In many
respects, strikes by the coal miners are over-determined. There is indeed
something unique about the labor process in coal mining, with its dangerous underground
work; and this very likely fosters professional pride and solidarity. But more
important are the specifics of the Soviet coal industry.
As far back as the
late 1950s, when planners gave priority to oil and gas, “a brake was applied to
the development of the coal industry” [50]. From this there emerged a whole
series of problems, not least of which were the extremely hazardous conditions
under which Soviet miners were forced to work. While mining everywhere is
dangerous, the problem became particularly acute in the Soviet Union. Accident
rates there were extremely high-much higher than in the next most dangerous
industry, steelmaking; or as the miners put it, for every million tons of coal extracted,
one miner paid with his life [51].
Declining investment
created difficulties not only with working conditions, but also with
"social problems," like housing, day care, and the rest. Miners'
living conditions were often appalling: in the Kuzbass and Vorkuta, for
instance, miners and their families often lived in barracks, some of which were
left over from Stalin's gulags.
Moreover, the
problems in the Soviet coal industry only deepened with the first attempts at
economic reform. The introduction of full khozraschet, or self-financing, was
intended to increase management's concern with profits and losses; but since it
was not accompanied by price reform, it created a perverse effect, particularly
in the coal industry. In order for the administrative prices in the Soviet
system to balance, state purchase prices for raw materials had to be set
extremely low, so that the prices of producer and consumer goods could also
remain low, even after the prices reflected some of the added value. This meant
that the price a mine received for one ton of coal-the official wholesale
price-was roughly one-half the cost of extracting it, making the coal industry
the only "planned-loss" branch in the country [52]. Since under
khozraschet bonuses and social expenditures were intended to come out of plant
profits, the already austere living conditions of the Soviet coal miners were
strained even further.
Although this seems
to be a case of relative deprivation, there are problems with such an argument
in this context. First, the miners themselves felt the changes in investment
patterns only very gradually. Second, in the case studies of the steel plants
and in interviews with steelworkers met randomly, the sense of anger,
frustration, and deprivation is quite clear. The very same issues raised by
coal miners are raised forcefully by steelworkers again and again [53].
More importantly, miners
have been the highest paid of any category of industrial worker; at the time of
their first strike they were making almost twice as much as the average
steelworker. Due to decreased investment in social infrastructure, however, coal
mines had fewer goods and services to distribute to their workforce. While
industrial-level data on social infra-structure does not exist, regional-level data
shows this to be the case, as in the following graphic statistic: the Kemerovo
region of Siberia (Kuzbass), Russia's largest coal basin, ranked thirteenth in
1989 in industrial production in rubles, even at artificially low prices for
coal, but was forty-third in the provision of housing, fifty-eighth in
children's establishments, and eighty-ninth for social clubs.54I n an
examination of housing units built in 1979 in twenty-eight large Soviet cities,
Donetsk, the coal capital of Ukraine, was twenty-third; it was greatly outpaced
not only by the Ukrainian cities of Kiev and Kharkov but also by the nearby
metallurgical center of Dnepropetrovsk, which came in first out of all
twenty-eight cities [55].
Thus, steelworkers were
compensated with low wages and high in-kind benefits, making them more
dependent, while coal miners were compensated with a low level of goods and
services but high wages, giving them greater autonomy. The strategy some
workers pursued was to begin their career as a highly skilled steelworker, get
an apartment quickly on a privileged basis, and then to leave for the coal
mines, getting both the apartment and the high wage [56].
How did compensation
with high levels of in-kind benefits create greater dependence than high wages
in rubles? First, when workers are tied to a job through a paycheck alone, this
"cash nexus" becomes a fragile connection because it is a single
strand: a disruption in wage levels can quick-ly transform quiescent workers
into militant ones [57]. Second, unlike many of the benefits distributed
through the enterprise, wages can be saved to be spent later, for example, when
scarce goods became available or during a strike. Third, wages have been easier
to replace, even in the event of losing one's job, than in-kind benefits. Due
to the labor shortage, workers fired for disciplinary reasons were able to find
new employment soon thereafter, in many cases at higher wages than in their
previous jobs.58 But for a work-er who had invested years waiting for an
automobile or an apartment and was nearing the top of the list, loss of the
position in line would be a terrible blow [59].
Alternative
arguments remain, in particular, those pertaining to the technology of
production and the resulting organization of work. Arguably, if the labor
process in mining fosters solidarity, the workforce in a modern integrated
steel mill is more stratified-along job ladders and across shops-lessening the
potential for solidarity. While this argument appears forceful, there are
reasons to question several of its assumptions. First, the steel industry is
highly strike prone in some countries but not in others [60], suggesting that
such factors as unions, the state, and cultural and other institutions are more
important than technology. Moreover, as Katherine Stone has argued with
reference to the origins of job structures in the American steel industry,
there was actually a "lack of important skill differentials between the
jobs in steel-making"; and furthermore, those job ladders and classification
schemes that did arise were largely artificial constructs of management, rather
than the result of technological imperatives [61].
In the present case,
moreover, the divisions that occurred among workers were most salient for the
workers themselves when the privileged distribution of goods and services was
involved. The in-kind benefits distributed within the enterprise greatly
facilitated the creation of an internal labor market in several ways. This
privileged distribution allowed managers to respond to a taut labor market, for
skilled labor especially, despite the often rigid central determination of wage
structures. Further, while workers often knew what other workers were receiving
in their monthly paycheck, the privileges entailed in the distribution of
benefits according to lists were a mystery. In fact, the sharpest conflicts at
these two steel plants during this time occurred when workers first tried to
apply" openness" (glasnost)t o the system of privileged distribution
and then tried to remove those privileges. Hence, many of the demands raised by
steelworkers, as well as miners, concerned not higher wages and benefits but
information on the economics of their enterprise and the system of
intra-enterprise distribution. Even as management attempted to use the goods
and services at its disposal to respond to the taut labor market, it tried to
hide that fact from a workforce whose sense of justice includes the notion of
pay according to labor.
One further
significant difference between the coal mines and the steel mills examined here
is size. The lack of full-scale strike activity at these huge plants would seem
to be a confirmation of the thesis that large plant size is an obstacle to
collective action. Indeed, in terms of its workforce a mine is more comparable
to a single shop than to an entire steel complex. Stated this way, however, the
explanation is insufficient. While the difficulties in communicating and
organizing activity between the shops of these large plants would certainly be
significant, this was no less an obstacle than that originally faced by miners
in separate mines. Yet these miners combined: while only several individual
mines struck in the spring of 1989, by July the Mezhdurechensk miners had set
off a ripple effect throughout the Soviet Union [62]. By contrast, individual
shops struck in the two steel plants studied, both before and after the miners,
yet they failed to spark similar actions in other shops.
Typically missing
from discussions of plant size and collective action is the corresponding size
of management in these large plants. According to one steelworker:
We're all in one
group, in one place, with one boss [kulak] ... if some kind of revolt begins in
one shop, then the administration tries to somehow pacify it, and somehow
frighten workers with its actions, so there is no solidarity. Here I'll give
one example from my own shop: when the shop announced that there would be a
strike, then the administration literally immediately got together and there
was a leaflet sent around, that participants in the strike will suffer this,
and this, and this punishment: lose their wages, lose subsidies for their
children, then all the privileges that workers get [63].
As we have seen in
the cases of the two steel enterprises, management - at both the shop level and
the enterprise level-intervened often to maintain control over the plant and
its workforce. And yet, as the last part of the above quotation indicates, the
issue was a question not simply of management domination but also of the levers
that it wielded: the privileges extended to workers to prevent them from acting
individually (to take advantage of the taut labor market to exit) can also be
used to prevent them from acting collectively. Once again, we return to the
importance of mutual dependence.
One might argue that
we are left with partial explanations. Even the "most similar cases"
of coal mining and steelmaking still leave many differences in the work
experiences of the two groups, which may account for differences in strike activity.
How can one untangle these alternative explanations? Fortunately, for present
purposes, the most similar comparative case method can be pursued even further to
include counterexamples - coal mines that did not strike.
Participation during
the 1991 strike was spotty: some mines joined in the middle of the strike,
others dropped out, and still others produced coal for local use with the
blessing of the strike committee.t5 There were also mines that did not strike
at all. Though the mines that did not strike were often quite different from
one another, they all shared a common characteristic: the enterprises were all
linked to a trading partner in such a way that a strike would cut off the
provision of vital goods or services to the workforce.
Three types of mines
fall in this category. One group of mines less prone to strike, as described
above, consisted of those that made up the very "isolated
communities" that were expected to be most strike prone. These mines often
had close links with nearby state or collective farms that pro-vided foodstuffs
to the workforce. Had the mines struck, they would have violated their
contracts with these farms and in turn would have lost their source of food
supplies, especially hard to obtain in industrialized coal basins.
A second group of
mines that did not strike were those, more often located in urban areas, which,
either through rich geological endowments or through managerial skill, had
created links not only with state farms but with producers of consumer goods.
These arrangements typically involved barter deals that provided scarce and
valuable goods, including VCRs and foreign cars.
One such mine,
Zasiad’ko, is something of a local legend in the city of Donetsk.65 During the
1991 strike, in an article entitled "Why the Zasiad'ko Mine Is Not
Striking," a coal face worker explained how the mine, through the work of
its director, had developed "an entire trade and industrial complex"
that included contracts with trade organizations for clothes, shoes, furniture,
and automobiles, while barter deals provided the miners with cassette players, VCRs,
and televisions at subsidized prices. To transport all these goods, the mine
had obtained its own truck depot, and to improve export prospects, it had joined
with other enterprises in purchasing a freight ship.66A s for striking, the
face worker explained:
We ... well
understand that if we shut down the mine, we will worsen our material position,
since no one will pay our wages.... There will be no means to maintain the
sanitoria, meat and vegetables will disappear, housing construction will stop,
the day care centers will close. What's more, our trading partners will demand
our forfeiture. We will suffer enormous losses [67].
A third category of
mine that did not participate in the 1991 strike included those controlled by
the miners themselves, as a result of their earlier strike. Some of these
miners had created joint-stock companies with foreign partners, which could
promise a relatively high standard of living for all employees. One
miner-activist, Yurii Gerol'd, managed to achieve this for his mine. Gerol'd
was elected chair of his mine's STK after the July 1989 strike, although he had
only just started working there as a foreman. Young and forceful, he was immediately
elected deputy chair of the Kuzbass regional strike committee and helped
prepare the protocol, signed by the miners and the government commission, that
ended the strike. He was later elected co-chair of the Confederation of Labor,
as well as a people's deputy of the Russian Federation, the latter on a program
of "enterprise independence" and end to "the alienation of the
working person ... from the product of his labor" [68].
By March 1991, when
the Kuzbass miners were striking to bring down the Soviet government, Gerol'd
resigned from the city and regional strike committees and the Confederation of
Labor (although he remained a people's deputy).H is mine, Polosukhinskaya,
continued to operate. Remaining true to his principles of creating independence
and ending labor's "alienation," at least in one mine, Gerol'd had
sought and helped find a foreign partner for a joint-stock company, which promised
a relatively high standard of living for all of Polosukhinskaya's employees.
Participation in the strike would have meant an end to the joint-stock
arrangement. Thus, Gerol'd and his colleagues were faced with a choice between
maintaining solidarity and remaining part of the workers' movement, or keeping
their relative prosperity and independence-the final goal, in the miners' eyes,
of their political strike against the Soviet government.
The common
denominator for each of the three categories of mines was a contract
arrangement with horizontally linked trading partners, which provided the
mines' employees with goods and services at levels significantly higher than
those of the average mine. Of course, miners who did strike sacrificed a good
deal. But while striking miners were provided with a strike fund, however
meager, these contract arrangements provided miners with goods and services that
a strike fund could not buy [69].
Thus, even across
firms in the same industry, dependence on the enterprise as the distributor of
vital goods and services has remained a strong inhibitor of strike activity and
workers' collective action. Can the lack of a high level of enterprise
dependence account for strikes in industries other than coal mining? While a
definitive answer lies outside the scope of the present study, a look at the
industries and sectors where strike activity has occurred suggests that this
may indeed be the case. As we have noted, the provision of goods and services
at the disposal of an enterprise varies greatly across enterprises as well as
across industries. While some strike activity has occurred in sectors that
control a valuable product which can be sold for high prices on the market-for
example, among oil and gas workers and gold and silver miners-most strike
activity, outside of coal mining, has occurred among transportation workers (railroad
and public transport workers, dock workers, merchant marines) and white collar
employees (doctors, teachers, and air-traffic controllers) [70]. While there
may be alter-native explanations for strikes among these particular workers, all
lie out-side the traditional heavy industrial sector, where worker collective
action could be expected to occur and where enterprise goods and services have
been concentrated.
Just how
generalizable is the concept of "mutual dependence" to other former
communist societies? The dependence of the worker and the state enterprise is a
product of the shortage economy, itself a result of economic centralization.
Thus, where the economy has been more centralized, such as in Bulgaria or
Romania as well as the Soviet Union, one would expect this mutual dependence to
be stronger than in a relatively less centralized economy, such as in Hungary
or Poland [71]. Moreover, shortages, especially in the consumer sector, were
alleviated to a greater extent in some Eastern European societies through
private farming, toleration of petty entrepreneurship, and the shorter legacy
of Communist Party rule. This independent economic activity also extended to the
social realm, where independent institutions created greater social space.
Hence, workers in Poland were able to overcome dependence on the workplace and
act collectively due to greater alternatives and the space provided by such
institutions as the Catholic church [72].
What are the
implications of this system of enterprise distribution? First, it is time to
reconsider some of the conceptions used by Sovietologists to explain the
relative labor peace and the compliance of workers and other groups in Soviet
society. The totalitarian perspective emphasized the domination of the
Communist Party, but as we have seen, many of the institutions within state
enterprises have survived the down-fall of the Communist Party and, indeed, of
the Soviet state. On the other hand, the antithesis of the totalitarian
perspective, the social contract approach, assumed that the quiescence of
labor, in the absence of terror, signified voluntary compliance, largely
because the distribution of goods and services throughout Soviet society appeared
to favor blue-collar laborers. Yet we have also seen that the distribution of
these goods and services, especially through the industrial enterprise, was
itself the source of great conflict.
The concept of
"mutual dependence" has been proposed here to explain the
relationship of the industrial worker to the Soviet enterprise. Although we
have emphasized the dependence of the worker on the enterprise in order to
explain why steelworkers and others did not strike, the other side of this
equation should not be underestimated. It was the shortage of workers that
compelled managers to increase the supply of housing and other benefits at
their disposal. And while these emoluments may have reduced turnover and
prevented strikes, managers, faced with such a short-age and the need to meet
the plan, were much less able to control workers on the shop floor. Conversely,
as the labor shortage disappears and is replaced by a labor surplus, the
relative position of workers will decline further. It is far from certain that
workers will be compensated for the loss of the exit option with a gain in
their ability to use their voice.
Thus, the Soviet
institution of distributing social services through the workplace will very
likely affect the course of reform efforts, and the concept of mutual
dependence suggests some hypotheses concerning the economic and political transformation
in the former Soviet Union. One of the major obstacles to the privatization of
the state sector remains the absence of viable substitutes for the enterprises
now supplying vital services to a large part, perhaps a majority, of the
population. To cut credits to these enterprises, forcing many to close, would
deprive their workers not simply of wages and benefits (which could be replaced
temporarily at least by unemployment payments), but also of access to housing,
health care, child care and important sources of food and consumer goods as
well. Other alternatives are not currently feasible: private providers of such
services would have to charge prices beyond the reach of their potential
customers; and local governments are reluctant to take on more burdens, as they
are already dependent on taxes from these very enterprises for even the paltry
services they now provide. Thus one hypothesis would be that privatization (and
the closure of unprofitable enterprises) will be most difficult in the
Soviet-style company towns, where one or more enterprises provide virtually all
social services to the urban population [73].
Moreover, the system
of enterprise distribution also explains the continued domination throughout
the former Soviet Union of the once official trade unions. Because the trade
unions are the distributors of housing, automobiles, and televisions, as well
as pensions and sick pay, workers have been afraid to sign a form stating they
wish to leave the old trade union [74]. Thus, these trade unions have survived
the collapse of the Communist Party and the state, even though they are generally
abhorred by their constituency. They hold a virtual monopoly on workers' representation
and are attempting to form corporatist bargains in their name with the state [75].
Therefore, a further hypothesis would
propose that the former state trade unions will continue to flourish until the
state(s) finds an alternative mechanism for performing the social-welfare functions
currently handled by the trade unions (with the corollary that alternative
trade unions, in order to compete for members, will have to perform these same
functions) [76].
The dissolution of
the Soviet Union and the collapse of the central allocation economy has
affected the paternalism of state enterprises in contradictory ways. Some
enterprises, deep in debt and unable to obtain sufficient credits, have simply
abandoned many of the former services (such as vacation centers), leaving
workers to fend for themselves. Other enterprises, such as those in the coal
and steel industries examined here, have actually increased their provision of
goods and services in the face of continued shortage, spiraling prices, and the
inability of local governments to provide additional services [77].
Why might managers
continue to expend valuable resources on procuring goods and services for the
workforce, especially when market pressures are increasing and the threat of
unemployment is replacing the labor shortage? Walder has recently argued that
in China, despite considerable market reform and high unemployment, the
position of state enterprise manager remains as much a political position as an
economic one. The enterprise itself comprises a "socio-political
community' that places considerable pressure on managers from below. Thus,
managers must be concerned not only with maximizing profits, but also with
"enhancing employee income and . .. delivering a wide range of other
benefits and services to their employees" [78].
In the former Soviet
Union such positions have become even more directly political. As noted above,
the director of the Donetskii steel plant was elected to the Ukrainian Supreme
Soviet, joining many other industrialists who have formed powerful blocs in the
Ukrainian and Russian parliaments [79]. While striking miners in most cases
removed their old directors and elected new ones, Donetskii's Sledenev used his
plant's largesse to get himself elected political representative from the
borough. He has since used his new political position to seek contacts, both
foreign and domestic, for expanding the economic base on which his power rests
[80].
This ability of
managers to maintain political control of the enterprise also helps explain why
most directors prefer privatization plans that give large numbers of shares to
the labor collective. Managers clearly believe that far from leading to direct
worker ownership, this is the best way for them to remain in command [80]. This
leads to a further hypothesis: current plans for "employee ownership"
through the purchase of majority shares in joint-stock companies will give
workers de jure control of the enterprise but will remain a formality, just as
did the Gorbachev-era law on electing enterprise managers. (To this should be
added the corollary that, just as the coal strikes transformed the enterprise
election law into a source of real power for the miners, enterprises experiencing
strikes under such an ownership system could result in de facto workers'
control) [82].
In the longer term, the
future of enterprise dependence is limited, even if it is difficult to
determine when the longer term might arrive [83]. If credits to state
enterprises are eventually cut off, leading to bankruptcies and full-scale
unemployment, it would eliminate the main reason for enterprises to supply
workers with goods and services in the first place-to attract and retain
skilled workers in a taut labor market. At the same time, unemployment and the
uncertainties of a market economy would likely create new obstacles to, as well
as opportunities for, workers' mobilization.
If the concept of
mutual dependence is historically limited, it is theoretically limited as well.
Structural and rational-actor perspectives, on which the concept of mutual
dependence has drawn, have been helpful in explaining how individuals are or
are not able to overcome obstacles to collective action. Yet the rational actor
approach-assuming preferences as static and indifferent to ideology - is rather
less helpful in explaining what occurs once individuals do act collectively.
For example, such individual-level, rational choice analysis does not account
for how the coal miners, once mobilized, transformed their objectives from
supporting "perestroika from below" to trying to bring down the Soviet
state. But that is a topic for another paper.
* Research for this
article was made possible by an SSRC/IREX Fellowship for Soviet Sociological
Research. The author would also like to thank the following for their
suggestions and comments: William Bianco, Michael Burawoy, Paul Christensen,
Zvi Gitelman, Jerry Hough, Michael Kennedy, Herbert Kitschelt, Anna Temkina,
and William Zimmerman.
NOTES
[1] Why choose
steelworkers even though their work regime is not entirely similar to that of miners?
As mentioned, they are located in the same regions and communities. Second, the
two production processes are linked, since coking coal is a major component of
steelmaking, steelworkers were thus directly affected by the coal strikes, as
well as more generally by the economic downturn. More importantly, steelworkers,
like miners, were at the core of the once privileged Soviet proletariat, comprising
a major part of the country's coal and steel economy. If the miners were to
form a "workers' movement," as they professed to be doing, they
understood that steelworkers had to play an integral role.
[2] For a
particularly useful review of the literature, see Gordon Marshall, "Some
Remarks on the Study of Working Class Consciousness," Politics and Society
12, no. 3 (1983).
[3] Clark Kerr and
Abraham Siegel “The inner-industry propensity to strike”, in Kerr, ed., Labor and
Management in Industrial Society (Garden City, N.Y.: Anchor Books, 1964), 109,
111; Seymour Martin Lipset, Political Man: The Social Bases of Politics, enlarged
ed. (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1981); David Lockwood,"
Sources f Variation in Working-Class Images
of Society," Sociological Review 14
(November 1966). This perspective has met with a good deal of criticism, for
its highly structural nature, for its assumption that radicalism develops in
isolation rather than in interaction with other perspectives and ideas, and for
the fact that the inter-industry propensity to strike has varied greatly over
time. However, the Soviet case would seem to provide another example supporting
the thesis of the isolated community. Paul K. Edwards, "A Critique of the
Kerr-Siegel Hypothesis of Strikes and the Isolated Mass: A Study in the
Falsification of Sociological Knowledge," Sociological Review 25 (August
1977); Edward Shorter and Charles Tilly, Strikes in France, 1830-1968
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), esp. 287-95; James E. Cronin,
"Theories of Strikes: Why Can't They Explain the British Experience?"
Journal of Social History 12, no. 2 (1978-79); Howard Kimmeldorf, Reds or Rackets?
The Making of Radical and Conservative Unions on the Waterfront (Berkeley:
University of California Press, 1988), 13-15. For recent support of the
isolated community thesis, see the discussion in Albert Szymanski, The Capitalist
State and the Politics of Class (Cambridge, Mass.: Winthrop, 1977), chap. 3.
[4] Ted Robert Gurr,
Why Men Rebel (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979).
[5] Shorter and
Tilly (fn. 3); Tilly, From Mobilization to Revolution (Reading, Mass.: Addison-
Wesley, 1978).
[6] Michael Yarrow,
"The Labor Process in Coal Mining: The Struggle for Control," in
Andrew Zimbalist, ed., Case Studies in the Labor Process (New York: Monthly
Review Press, 1979), 187; see also Shorter and Tilly (fn. 3), 13.
[7] Kerr and Siegel
(fn. 3), 110.
[8] Szymanski (fn.
3), 63; see also Lipset (fn. 3), 252. For Marx, see "Revolution and
Counter- Revolution in Germany," in Selected Works (Moscow: Progress Publishers,
1969). For some empirical support, see Richard F. Hamilton, Affluence and the
French Worker in the Fourth Republic (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
1967), 205-28.
[9] Shorter and
Tilly (fn. 3), 15. Russell Hardin, Collective Action (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1982), 222-23.
[10] See the
discussion of alternative views on Soviet industrial relations in Peter
Rutland, "Labor Unrest and Movements in 1989 and 1990," Soviet
Economy (December 1990), 193-95.
[11] Joseph Godson
and Leonard Shapiro, eds., The Soviet Worker (London: MacMillan, 1981).
[12] Walter Connor, The Accidental Proletariat (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1991); Linda J. Cook, "Brezhnev's' Social Contract' and
Gorbachev's Reforms”, Soviet Studies 44,
no. 1 (1992); Janine Ludlam," Reform and the Redefinition of the Social
Contract under Gorbachev," World Politics 43 January 1991); Peter
Hauslohner," Gorbachev's Social
Contract," Soviet Economy 3 , no. 1 (1987); George Breslauer, "On the
Adaptability of Soviet Welfare-State Authoritarianism," in Erik Hoffman
and Robin F. Laird, eds., The Soviet polity in the modern era (New York:
Aldine, 1984), Stephen White, "Economic Performance and Communist
Legitimacy," World Politics 38 (April 1986).
[13] Beyond the fact
that this was a contract that was never negotiated, let alone ratified, by the
two parties, there is a deeper problem. Within this conception, there is no
theory of the power of the social groups, such as workers, that could explain why
they were the "Winners" in this bargain, other than "the regime's
de facto preference for certain groups' interests over others." Hauslohner
(fn. 12), 59.
[14] Rutland (fn.
10); Theodore Friedgut and Lewis Siegelbaum, "Perestroika from Below: The
Soviet Miners' Strike and Its Aftermath," New Left Review, no. 181 (Summer1
990); Stephen Crowley, "From Coal to Steel: The Formation of an
Independent Workers' Movement in the Soviet Union, 1989-1991" (Ph.D.
diss., University of Michigan, 1993).
[15] See Michael
Burawoy and Pavel Krotov, "The Soviet Transition from Socialism to
Capitalism: Worker Control and Economic Bargaining in the Wood Industry," American
Sociological Review 57 (February1 992); Burawoy and Janos Lukacs, The RadiantP
ast: Ideology and Reality in Hungary's Road to Capitalism (Chicago: University
of Chicago Press, 1992); Burawoy, The Politics of Production (London: Verso
Press, 1985); David Stark, "Organizational Innovation in Hungary's Emerging
Mixed Economy," in Stark and Victor
Nee, eds., Remaking the Economic Institutions (Palo Alto, Calif.: Stanford University
Press, 1989); idem, "Rethinking Internal Labor Markets: New Insights from
a Comparative Perspective," American Sociological Review 51, no. 4 (1986), 492-504. 16 Kornai, The Economics
of Shortage( Amsterdam: North Holland, 1980). See the summary of his work in
David Stark and Victor Nee, "Toward an Institutional Analysis of State
Socialism," in Stark and Nee (fn. 15), 16-20.
[17] Albert
Hirschman, Exit, Voice and Loyalty: Responses to Decline in Firms,
Organizations and States (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1970). For a
slightly different application of this concept, see Stark and Nee (fn. 16); and
George Bergsten and Russell Bova, "Worker Power under Communism: The
Interplay of Exit and Voice," Comparative Economic Studies 32 (Spring
1990).
[18] Such
paternalism is not unique to this particular time and place. The company town
of American history and the current Japanese enterprise are but two other
examples. There are important differences, however. In the Japanese context,
for instance, the employee has access, depending on the wage level, to a range
of alternatives through consumer markets. Given the shortages in state
socialist economies, such alternatives have been greatly limited. See also
Andrew Walder, Communist Neo-Traditionalism: Work and Authority in Chinese
Industry (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 15-17.
[19] Walder (fn.
18).
[20] See Andrew Walder,
"Factory and Manager in an Era of Reform," China Quarterly, no. 118 (June
1989), esp. 249-53. It should be noted, however, that because of continued
unemployment rather than a labor shortage, Chinese workers have not been able
to leave one job for another, a major strength of workers in the enterprises
examined here. Thus, Chinese workers have had neither exit nor voice, though
they have used what Scott calls "the weapons of the weak."James C .
Scott, Weapons of the Weak. Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1985).
[21] This mutual
dependence is also suggested by the term "plan-fulfillment pact." See
Ulrich Voskamp and Volker Witkke, "Industrial Restructuring in the Former
German Democratic Republic," Politics and Society 19 (September 1991);
Burawoy and Krotov (fn. 15).
[22] V. Kalmyk and
T. Sil'chenko, "Sotsial'no-ekonomicheskaia obuslovennost' otnosheniie k
mestu raboty," in E. Antosenkov and V. Kalmyk, eds., Otnoshenie k Trudu i
Tekuchest' Kadrov (Work attitudes and labor turnover) (Novosibirsk. Institut
Ekonomiki i Organizatsii Promyshlennoyo Proizvodstva, 1970).
[23] See Paul
Osterman, ed., Internal Labor Markets (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1984); Robert Althauser
and Arne Kalleberg, "Firms,
Occupations and the Structure of Labor Markets," in Ivar Berg, ed.,
Sociological Perspectives on Labor Markets( New York. Academic Press, 1981);
Peter Doeringer and Michael J. Piroe, Internal Labor Markets and Manpower
Analysis (Lexington, Mass.: Heath, 1971).
[24] Hardin (fn. 9);
Michael Taylor, The Possibility of Cooperation (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1987).
[25] Regarding workers'
collective action specifically, see Adam Przeworski, "Marxism and Rational
Choice," Politics and Society 14, no. 4 (1985); Claus Offe and Helmut
Wiesenthal, "Two Logics of Collective Action: Theoretical Notes on Social
Class and Organizational Forms," in Maurice Zeitlin, ed., Political Power
and Social Theory, vol. 1 (Greenwich, Conn.: JAI Press, 1980); James Johnson,
"Symbolic Action and the Limits of Strategic Rationality: On the Logic of
Working-Class Collective Action," in Maurice Zeitlin, ed., Political Power
and Social Theory, vol. 7 (Greenwich, Conn.: JAI Press, 1986);J on Elster, Ulysses
and the Sirens (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1984); Colin Crouch, Trade Unions: The Logic of Collective
Action (London: Fontana, 1982).
[26] Indeed, the
stakes are quite high on both sides. Even as the miners clearly gained through
their strikes, managers did not lose profits; they did lose their jobs,
however, as the miners often removed the old bosses and elected their own.
[27] Connor (fn.
12), 137.
[28] Theodore Friedgut,
Iuzovka and Revolution, vol. 1 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989).
[29] While
open-hearth furnaces produced only 7 percent of the steel in the United States
in 1985 and none were being used in Japan and West Germany, the Soviet Union
continued to rely on them for more than half of its steel production. Boris
Rumer, Soviet Steel: The Challenge of Industrial Modernization in the USSR
(Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1989), 64.
[30] Rumer (fn. 29),
54.
[31] For instance,
the workers' council of the Donetskii plant wrote to ask the miners to return
to work because" the working class of steel workers" would otherwise
lose their pay and privileges. Kuzbass, July 18, 1989.
[32] In a chapter
entitled "New Cities: The Politics of Company Towns," William Taubman
refers to the more than one thousand cities built in the Soviet Union since the
1917 revolution, most of which "have been born and raised as Soviet-style
company towns, in the shadow of one industrial establishment or with several establishments
dividing responsibility or competing for control." These enterprises
provide "housing and whatever meager services" there are. See
Taubman, Governing Soviet Cities: Bureaucratic Politics and Urban Development in
the USSR (New York: Praeger,1 973), 54.
[33] Metallurg,
August 19, 1989.
[34] Director Sledenev was subsequently elected to the
higher legislative body, the Ukrainian Supreme Soviet.
[35] Metallurg Zapsiba, July 11, 1989.
[36] Burawoy and
Krotov (fn. 15) provide evidence of shops being pitted against each other in
the wood industry (pp. 25-28).
[37] Metallurg, July
26, 1989.
[38] Ibid.
[39] Metallurg
Zapsiba, October 11, 1989.
[40] Ibid., November
23, 1989; author interview with AR and BM, deputy chairs of the trade union
committee at Donetskii, Donetsk, July 2, 1992. Why did workers at West
Siberian, where management had more resources, succeed in establishing a single
line while those at Donetskii failed? Managers may have had more resources, but
workers had greater countervailing resources as well. First, the labor shortage
was more severe in Siberia than in Ukraine. And second, West Siberian was potentially
profitable on the market, giving workers a positive incentive to organize,
whereas at Donetskii everyone realized that the plant was going to remain
dependent on state subsidies.
[41] Metallurg
Zapsiba, July 13, 1990.
[42] Ibid., February
10, 1990.
[43] Interview with
AR and BM (fn. 40); Metallurg Zapsiba, September 4, 1993. Walder (fn. 20) notes
that managers in China have behaved in the same fashion, increasing rather than
decreasing their efforts to provide benefits to their workforce in the face of
market forces (pp. 249-53).
[44] Metallurg,
August 5, 1989.
[45] Ibid., October
25, 1989.
[46] Ibid., for how
another delegate to the same conference put it: Frankly speaking, it pains me
that you have organized this conference as if it were ten to fifteen years ago.
We don't talk about the sore points here. We won't revolt, if we find out that
apartments are being given to Afghan war invalids ahead of the line, that a
vacation trip in short supply [defitsitnaya] is being given to a steel founder,
a furnace worker or a rolling mill operator. But we demand the just
distribution of social goods. We need glasnost here, so that all will know, who
obtained what.... I think we've ruined this conference.
[47] Metallurg
Zapsiba, October 10, 1990. The Central Council of the once official steelworkers
union has since declared itself independent from the central trade union
confederation (FNPR) and has allied itself with the independent miners union.
Galina Koval'skaya, Svobodnie Profsoyuzi Rossii (Free trade unions of Russia)
(Moscow: Allegro Press, 1993), 8-12. But this was a decision made by the top
union leadership in Moscow, on the level of the enterprise, little has changed.
[48] Were the miners
actually better off after striking, or were steelworkers actually smart to
avoid striking, with all its attendant problems? While the miners' successes were
certainly uneven, they clearly gained from their strikes in several fundamental
ways. First, they gained greater control over their workplace. Second, they
gained greater political and economic changes, first in the Soviet Union and
later in the newly independent states. Other workers have been represented by
the former state trade unions or management. Finally, the material position of
miners, while hardly ideal, has improved, at least relative to that of other
workers. In addition to greater control over intra-enterprise benefits, wage
increases have outpaced even the astronomical rates of inflation in Russia and
Ukraine, so much so that subsidies to the coal industry alone (before recent
efforts to raise coal prices in Russia) were absorbing 20 percent of Russian
state revenues and accounted for nearly 33 percent of the state budget in
Ukraine. Izvestiia, May 8, 1993, cited in RFE/RL Daily Report, May 11, 1993;
Moscow News, June 18, 1993.
[49] He continued,
"Perestroika, you say?I have a family, children, grandchildren. They want
to go away for the summer. What can you say? Daddy told the boss he didn't like
how he was being treated, so this year and for the next couple of years no one
is going anywhere." Stephen Kotkin, Steeltown, USSR (Berkeley: University
of California Press, 1991), 28-30.
[50]
"Travma," Ekonomicheskaya Gazeta, no. 7 (1989), 17.
[51] Kuzbass, July
13, 1989; Argumenty i Fakty, no. 30 (1989).
[52] Viktor
Kostyukovskii, Kuzbass: Zharkoe leto 89-ogo (The Kuzbass: The hot summer of
1989) (Moscow- Sovremmenik, 1990), 26. Subsidies to the branch in 1988 were
reportedly 5.4 billion rubles and in 1989 a billion more.
[53] Reflecting on
this very question, Burawoy produces a complex argument to explain why
steel-workers did not follow the example of coal miners. First, as basic goods
producers in a supply-con-strained economy, miners had been privileged by the
state but lost their privileged position with perestroika. Second, steelworkers
were able to avoid a similar decline by shifting their product profile, thus getting
higher state purchase prices for their goods. Third, miners, owing to their
unique work regime, experienced an exaggerated form of "workers'
control" over production, which contrasted more sharply with their
exploitation by the state. Burawoy, "The End of Sovietology and the
Renaissance of Modernization Theory," Contemporary Sociology 21 (November
1992), 780-81. This argument breaks down on each point, however: the steel
industry in the former Soviet Union has suffered dramatically during the
overall decline in production; changing one's product profile is no longer
valid given the lack of state orders and the glut on the steel market; and the
miners' political militancy toward the state was a product of their strike
activity and subsequent organization rather than a precursor to it. On this
last point, see Crowley (fn. 14).
[54] Kostyukovskii (fn.
51), 62. Mines were doubly disadvantaged in terms of social infrastructure.
First, a mine has a definite life span. Unlike an industrial factory that
theoretically can be continually modernized, there is less incentive to sink
capital into permanent infrastructure such as housing or cultural and
educational facilities in a mining settlement. Second, many mining communities
are indeed isolated, and while this in itself does not breed radicalism as the
isolated community thesis maintains, it does mean there is less social
infrastructure than in a larger city. Indeed, the differences in the living
conditions for miners and steelworkers in the Donbass were evident from its
initial industrialization over a hundred years ago. See Friedgut (fn. 28).
[55] The numbers are
even worse for Donetsk when the number of marriages and thus presumably the
number of new housing applicants is compared with the number of new housing
units built; then Donetsk was twenty-fifth. Henry Morton, "The
Contemporary Soviet City," in Morton and Robert Stuart, eds., The Contemporary
Soviet City (Armonk, N.Y.: M. E. Sharpe, 1984).
[56] Metallurg
Zapsiba, November 7, 1989.
[57] John H.
Westergaard, "The Rediscovery of the Cash Nexus," The Socialist
Register 1970 (London: Merlin Press, 1970), esp. 120-21. Thus miners in
Vorkuta, of Russia's Far North, were drawn from other parts of the Soviet Union
in the hope that savings from high wages would allow them to buy a home and
retire in Russia's temperate South. Inflation immediately wiped out those
plans. See "In Russia's Far North, Inflation Destroys a Dream," Moscow
Times, March 3, 1993.
[58] Connor (fn.
12), 172.
[59] Thus, although
important, wages represented only one component of an overall compensation
package. Both steelworkers and miners demanded wage increases. The Hungarian experience
suggests that the preference for wages versus in-kind benefits varies with the
scope of the consumer market. In Hungary many years of economic reform created
a more advanced market for consumer goods and ser-vices, and consequently wages
were valued above enterprise emoluments. See Stark (fn. 15, 1986); Burawoy and
Lukacs (fn. 15). Given prices out of the reach of many consumers, this has not
yet occurred in Russia.
[60] John E. T.
Eldridge, Industrial Disputes: Essays in the Sociology of Industrial Relations
(London: Routledge and Kegan Paul,
1968).
[61] Stone,
"The Origin of Job Structures in the Steel Industry," Review of
Radical Political Economics 6 (Summer 1974), 156.
[62] On the creation
of a ripple effect as a way out of the collective action problem, see John
Chamberlin," Provisions of Collective Goods as a Function of Group Size,"
American Political Science Review 68 (June 1974), 707-16.
[63] Author
interview with Oleg Semyenov, Novokuznetsk, May 3, 1991.
[64] In this last
category, some mines provided coal to local metallurgical and power plants. The
phrase that some mines were working "with the blessing of the strike
committee" may have been a way for both the particular mines and the
strike committee to save face given the less than full participation in the
strike.
[65] For more on the
Zasiad'ko mine, see Stephen Crowley and Lewis Siegelbaum, "Survival
Strategies: The Miners of Donetsk in the Post-Soviet Era"( Manuscript,1
993). The following paragraph is largely drawn from that paper.
[66] Verchernyi Donetsk,
April 17, 1991.
[67] Ibid. A
Siberian mine with a similar history and paternalistic scope is described by
Petr Biziukov and Simon Clarke, "Privatization in Russia: The Road to a
People's Capitalism?" Monthly Review (November 1992).
[68] Author
interview with Yurii Gerol'd, Moscow, February 27, 1991; Nasha Gazeta, February
20, 1990.
[69] There were no
cases that I found, in the central, regional, or local press, or during
fieldwork, where miners broke such a significant contract arrangement to
strike.
[70] Linda Cook,
"Labor's Response to the Soviet Post-Communist Transition" (Paper presented
at the annual meeting of the American Political Science Association, Chicago,
September 1992).
[71] Regarding a
different social consequence of the shortage economy, see Katherine Verdery,
"Nationalism and Nationalist Sentiment in Post-socialist Romania," Slavic
Review 52 (Summer 1993), 182-83. Trade unions in Bulgaria and Romania have been
transformed from above, without wide-spread collective action (outside mining
and a few other sectors) from below.
[72] A full
accounting of the rise of Solidarity is dearly beyond the scope of this paper.
Among the other factors present in Poland and not in the Soviet Union were
nationalism and the experience of previous worker uprisings; all contributed
not only to workers uniting but also to workers uniting with other classes. See
Roman Laba, The Roots of Solidarity: A Political Sociology of Poland's
Working-Class Democracy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991); Michael
Kennedy, Professionals, Power and Solidarity in Poland (Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 1991). In Hungary, where little collective worker activity occurred even
as shortages decreased as a result of market reform, workers continued to
pursue individual strategies in seeking to take advantage of the consumer market-a
reminder that the market also presents obstacles to workers' collective action.
[73] One clear
analogy with the steel enterprises discussed here are the company towns of
early capitalism. Ironically, however, whereas enterprise dependence in the
former Soviet Union appears to be a case of a bloated welfare state, it was the
establishment of the welfare state in capitalist societies that finally ended
the worker's near total dependence on the employer. By guaranteeing a minimum
standard of living regardless of one's work performance, the welfare state
ended the employer's direct control over the reproduction of the labor force.
See Burawoy (fn. 15), 125-26.
[74] To call such
items "selective incentives" is misleading in at least two respects:
they were originally intended not to retain members in the trade union, but
rather to keep workers in the enterprise, and they have become the primary service
these organizations provide. On the term "selective incentives" as
applied to trade union membership, see Mancur Olson, The Logic of Collective
Action: Public Goods and the Theory of Groups (Cambridge: Harvard University Press,
1977); and the critical discussion in Crouch (fn. 25).
[75] On the
corporatist bent of these trade unions, see Cook (fn. 70).
[76] According to
the official trade union chair at one Donbass mine, "At first the NPG ...
pushed aside health issues, daily life concerns, and all the rest. But now the
NPG takes care of everything up to trade and the distribution of foodstuffs,
that is, those things for which the NPG leaders always cursed us." Pozitsiia,
May 6-12, 1992, p. 1. The same appears to be true in Vorkuta. See Michael
Burawoy and Pavel Krotov, "The Economic Basis of Russia's Political
Crisis," New Left Review, no. 198 (March-April 1993), 60-64.
[77] This was
certainly the case in Donetsk in the summer of 1992 and Novokuznetsk in the
fall of 1993. This is especially so since the barter economy provides workers
in privileged sectors with scarce consumer goods rather than high wages. See Crowley
and Siegelbaum (fn. 65). 78 Walder (fn. 20), esp. 249-53. 79 As of this writing
it is too early to tell whether the latest Russian elections have sent fewer
enterprise managers to parliament. Preliminary analysis by the author suggests
that managers have indeed used their resources to elect, if not themselves,
then at least like-minded representatives.
[80] Interview with
AR and BM (fn. 40). The director of the Zasiad'ko mine mentioned above first
used his economic position to be elected a member of the Ukrainian parliament,
was later elected mayor of Donetsk, and from there was appointed prime minister
of Ukraine.
[81] Simon
Clarke," Privatization and the Development of Capitalism in Russia," New
Left Review, no. 196 (November-December 1992).
[82] Indeed, as the
miners' experience shows, the ability of managers to control such institutions
is not absolute. Thus managers must carefully balance a paternalism that on the
one hand ensures their continued control and on the other hand does not provoke
concerted action by workers that could remove them from office. 83 The work of
economic historian Douglass North makes one cautious about predicting the rapid
demise of such institutions, no matter how revolutionary the change in economic
structures or even property rights. See North, Institutions, Institutional
Change, and Economic Performance (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990).
This paper was
published in: World Politics, Vol. 46, No. 4 (Jul., 1994), pp. 589-615.
The heavy-duty steel cart, designed for use within private facilities, holds both full and partial loads of barriers upright and in a stable position for safe transport and storage.
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