By the same token, STO’s internal discussions of the appropriate trajectory for workplace interventions were quite sophisticated, and often quite heated. In the fall of 1970, STO held its first evaluation-of-work meeting. Don Hamerquist presented a paper entitled “Reflections on Organizing,” which articulated some necessary corrections to the group’s initial conception.154 In Hamerquist’s view, STO’s first efforts had been characterized by a simplistic understanding of the class forces involved in workplace organizing, as well as a naïve understanding of the risks and benefits of direct action at the job site. For instance, he challenges the notion that younger workers, black and latino workers, and established rank-and-file militants shared a common openness to revolutionary ideas. Instead,
The initial cadre of workers [within an independent organization] must have a number of different characteristics which show up among different social groups in the factory. It must be open to a general revolutionary critique of capitalism; it must be aware of the importance of organization; it must be able to provide leadership for the struggles that develop on the job. Workers radicalized outside of the job [e.g. black and latino workers and younger, counter-cultural whites] are more likely to accept a radical critique than they are to see the possibility and necessity of building mass struggle and organization. The trade union opposition might want to get organized and even accept a few revolutionary propositions, but they won’t see why this should go beyond a struggle for control of the union. The leader of job actions is likely to be great whenever a spontaneous struggle arises, but to have no idea of what to do in other situations or how to relate job issues to general political issues. Each of these limitations in areas of possible support for our perspective help spell out the sort of political problems that are involved in implementing it.155
Similarly, just as different sorts of workers exhibited different potentials, so too did different sorts of job actions. In this case, however, a single type of action, such as a strike, could take on completely different meanings depending upon its character. Thus, “some strikes involve mass participation in struggle, but most clearly do not. No alternative conception of the world is manifested in those strikes where the union and management cooperate in the orderly closure of operations; where picketing is only a dull and tiring public-relations chore; and where the bulk of workers just disappear till a new contract is signed. And this is the character of most present-day strikes.”156 The alternative to this dismal outlook was direct action at the job site. But one universal difficulty of implementing STO’s perspective was the tension between the need for direct action, and the risk of job loss or even criminal prosecution. This tension was paralleled by a similar conflict between the requirement that independent organizations be mass in character and the necessity that they be politically cohesive. The terrain on which these contradictions played themselves out was the question of openness and secrecy. In Hamerquist’s view, “though the difficulties in functioning openly are certainly real, there is no alternative to using whatever possibilities exist and working to expand these possibilities as rapidly as possible. This follows from the absolutely essential role of direct action.… There is no way that direct action can be developed if a conspiratorial cadre grouping becomes a substitute for, rather than a means to, a mass organization.”157 Building on these reflections, and on the concrete experiences of members, the group progressively shifted its emphasis toward greater openness on the shop floor. In 1973, in particular, the organization prioritized mass work to the exclusion of most other concerns, including the internal functioning of the group as a whole, which suffered as a result.
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Once this transition was underway, conflicts arose within STO around the implications of mass organizing. While the majority of members, including both the formal and informal leadership, stood firm in opposition to participating in intra-union reform efforts, a growing minority began to question the logic of this position. The disagreement manifested itself in the form of a debate over the right of members to run for shop steward. As indicated above, stewards were the lowest rung of the union bureaucracy, and in many cases replacing a bad steward with a good one led directly to improvements in working conditions as well as organizing prospects. In fact, more than a few STO members in multiple factories were asked by their rank-and-file workmates to run for steward, most often against particularly hated union hacks. In most cases, these members refused, citing an organizational policy that was often difficult for their coworkers to fathom. This process could be frustrating for all involved, although in many situations compromises could be arrived at, where non-STO militants ran for steward instead.
The frustration was perhaps most intense in the Westside STO branch, which was concentrated around the International Harvester plant in Melrose Park. In contrast to the undeniably corrupt IBEW local that controlled Stewart-Warner, a somewhat more progressive faction of the United Auto Workers was in charge at Melrose. Further, the radical origins of the UAW and its liberal reputation throughout the sixties and early seventies encouraged the STO members employed by International Harvester to pursue some tentative engagement with the union.158 The branch established a Workers’ Voice Committee, which straddled the line between being an independent organization and functioning as a dissident union caucus.159 Michael Goldfield, who had helped found STO and was one of its most experienced workplace organizers, was drawn to the possibility of becoming a departmental steward; both his coworkers and his branch mates supported him, while other STO members were harshly critical. As early as the fall of 1972, such criticisms led Goldfield and his supporters to feel as if they were being marginalized within the organization.160
By late 1973, conflict came to a head at the meeting where members reviewed the previous year’s work, which was held over Thanksgiving weekend at a retreat center in Michigan. In advance of the meeting, Goldfield and another STO member named Mel Rothenberg drafted a paper entitled “The Crisis in STO,” which was subsequently signed by seven additional members of the group, including the entire Westside branch. In many ways, this document skirts the trade union issue, preferring instead to argue its points on the plane of STO’s party-building efforts and the question of correct interpretations of Leninism (these issues will be dealt with in more detail in Chapter Four). However, the early sections of the piece contain an assessment of the organization’s mass work, including thinly veiled criticisms of the extra-union orientation that guided STO’s approach to workplace struggles. “The Crisis” begins by asking a number of critical questions about difficulties that the Westside branch had encountered in organizing at the International Harvester plant: “Why has so much direct action at Melrose not contributed towards the development of a growing, stable, independent organization?… Why have we been unable to build a sustained, coherent, credible alternative to trade unionist forms of struggle?”161
In answering these questions, the paper identifies two factions of the organization that, while superficially opposed to each other, formed a unified obstacle to STO’s