Łódź and Tampere share an industrial and political past. Part of the Russian empire, the cities became major textile hubs crucial for Tsarist industrial economy.1 The cities were also Red strongholds. Historically, they can be seen as socio-economic “experiments” and “islands of modernization” within largely rural societies. Since the 1980s (in case of Tampere) and the 1990s (in case of Łódź) both cities have undergone substantial social and economic transformations connected with the collapse or decline of traditional industries. How do the two cities choose to represent their working-class heritage today? This essay compares how city museums in Tampere and Łódź represent their working-class history in selective and contradictory ways.

Given the significance of strikes in the history of communist Poland, the strikes that occurred during the era of high Stalinism (1948-53) have received remarkably little scholarly attention. This article deals with one of the most significant strike waves of that period: the occupational strikes that broke out in the Dąbrowa basin after the regime extended the working day in the mines by one hour in April 1951. What lent additional salience to these strikes was that the Dąbrowa basin, nicknamed the “Red Basin” on account of its radical traditions of industrial protest, had been a communist stronghold in interwar Poland and that many card-carrying communists participated in the strikes. The article demonstrates that the strikes were the culmination of a process whereby the “aristocracy of labor” of seasoned activists turned against a regime that increasingly relied on younger migrants from the rural provinces in its campaigns to raise production. If the historical struggles of the miners in the Dąbrowa basin were instrumental in triggering the strikes, however, the article also makes clear how representatives of the regime could invoke these struggles to bring the strikes to an end.

Across former Eastern Europe, the transition from state socialism toward neoliberal capitalism has been accompanied by a marked reduction in emphasis on working-class identities. Because of the centrality of class to socialist-era identity-construction projects, the recent and relatively sudden ascendancy of various forms of individualist, consumption-oriented subjectivity in postrevolutionary societies has produced conflicts that are often more visible than in societies where capitalism has been the accepted economic paradigm for much longer. This shift can be seen in the realm of art and visual culture: Images of the worker once dominated public spaces under state socialism, competing in number with representations of leaders and communist ideologues, but since 1989 they have often been vandalized, dismantled, or else relocated to decay in relative obscurity. Where new public images of the worker do appear in postsocialist neoliberal conditions, they frequently serve as nexuses of controversy, where generational and ideological conflicts regarding current labor conditions and the legacy of worker solidarity play out. The debates surrounding representations of workers in postsocialism are both part of a global history of postsocialist art and part of the history of labor and its relation to contemporary urban space. This article examines artistic representations of the worker sited in public space in postsocialist Albania, in order to map the political and artistic discourses that animate engagements with working-class identity in conditions of neoliberal social transformation.

The huge parastatal sectors in postcolonial African societies interested sociologists in the 1970s and 1980s, but have never found a historical discussion – and the experience of change towards the democratization (eventually) has not yet been interpreted by historians. This study attempts to bring both elements together for the case of Benin, a country particularly shaken by massive economic decline, lay-offs and unemployment in the second half of the 1980s. It relies on an unusual and spectacular source, a series of petitions sent by workers and workers’ delegates to the presidential office of Mathieu Kérékou in 1989/90 (the presidential office partly added to these petitions whole dossiers of comments and correspondence with other authorities, i.e. ministerial directorates and the police). This analysis highlights how parastatal workers and their spokesmen tried to communicate about economic and social disaster with the authorities, how they protested and attempted to make claims about social norms and justice, and how they attacked “corruption”. I would hold that the cases studied cannot stand for a model of experiences, but they nevertheless represent a number of elements of a social history of decline: as well as protests and arguments, and views on the practice of petitioning, the discussion will also highlight individual trajectories that nevertheless exemplify, in my view, representative experiences and a history of daily life in Benin's parastatal sector. The interpretation also attempts to show how imminent democratization, through the creation of a National Conference in early 1990, changed the strategies and the context of workers’ protest. It includes a number of exemplary, and quite spectacular, cases of mismanagement and closing of parastatal companies, such as the Société Sucrière de Savè and SONICOG. I would think that the approach is unique so far for both Beninese and West African history.

This article examines the evolution of the Autonomous Union of the Vine (Sindicato Autónomo de la Vid [SAVID]), a radical wine industry union that operated in the Jerez area (Spain) between 1979 and 1987. The SAVID was born as a result of a series of internal conflicts and splits in the trade union Unión Sindical Obrera (USO), which was founded by Christian groups that were influenced by self-management ideas in the province of Cádiz during the 1970s. Drawing on the life stories of two union members, this article analyzes the creation, evolution, and decline of the SAVID labor union of the sherry wine industry in the Jerez area, which can be categorized as a paradigmatic case of “militant particularism.” The biographical narratives of the union members make the identification and analysis of factors involved in both the rise and the decline of this trade union possible. These narratives will also help in contesting the dominant narratives on the role of the trade union movement and the radical Left during the Spanish Transition by providing empirical evidence of labor militancy on a local scale.

This project investigates the participation of rural Galician women in social movements regarding labor and rural concerns from 1970 to 1990, with a comparative and interdisciplinary approach. Based on the studies we have analyzed we can conclude that the recognition of rural women and their roles in their organizations have been consolidated in recent years. Rural women have gradually become significant social players in the development of their communities and, consequently, their economies. This study also demonstrates that participation in organizations plays a major role in the development of women's identities by changing the rural definition of gender. In the case of Galician women, historical relegation is evident as the empowerment of rural women did not begin until a group of feminist women became members of the Executive Board of Sindicato Labrego Galego. The driving force behind this empowerment was the creation of organizations for women with clear and specific objectives.

In 1898, US occupation of Puerto Rico opened possibilities for experimentation with manufacturing, investment, tariffs, and citizenship because the Treaty of Paris did not address territorial incorporation. Imperial experimentation started immediately and continued through the liberal policies of the New Deal and World War II, consistently reproducing drastic exceptions. These exceptions were neither permanent nor complete, but the rearrangements of sovereignty and citizenship established Puerto Rico as a site of potential and persistent exemption. Puerto Rican needleworkers were central to the resulting colonial industrialization-not as dormant labor awaiting outside developmental forces but as skilled workers experienced in production. Following US occupation, continental trade agents and manufacturers noted the intricate needlework of Puerto Rican women and their employment in homes and small shops for contractors across the island. Their cooptation and adaptation of this contracting system led to the colonial industrialization, generating bureaucratic, financial, and legal infrastructure later used in Operation Bootstrap, a long-term economic plan devised in the 1940s and 1950s. Labor unions and aggrieved workers contested and resisted this colonial industrialization. They advocated their own proposals and pushed against US economic policies and insular business management. Throughout these fights, the asymmetrical power of the federal government and industrial capital allowed the colonial regime to assert US sovereignty while continually realigning exemptions and redefining citizenship for liberal economic objectives. Rather than representing a weakening of the nation-state, this strong interventionist approach provided scaffolding for Operation Bootstrap, which became a model for the neoliberal projects called export processing zones (EPZs).

Engaging questions about social reproduction, migrant labor, and food provisioning, this article examines the emergence of a working-class food system on the coast of Kenya during the early decades of the twentieth century. Like elsewhere in Africa, labor migrants in Kenya's port city of Mombasa and on nearby plantations were provisioned with food rations, which were part of what Patrick Harries calls a “racial paternalism” that structured many labor relations during the colonial period. The article starts in rural Kenya, but then follows labor migrants to their places of employment to examine the formation of this new food system. In upcountry rural societies, women had primarily produced and then exclusively prepared their communities’ food. However, as migrants, men received a ration (posho) of maize meal or rice as part of their pay, used their cash wages to purchase foodstuffs from nearby markets, and some plantation workers were also able to grow their own vegetables on plots allocated by their employers. After acquiring their food through these wage-labor relations, men then had to cook their meals themselves. In addition the cuisine created by labor migration was one of extreme monotony compared to what these migrants ate in their rural communities, but I also show how food became a point of conflict between management and labor. The article demonstrates how workers successfully pressured their employers to improve the quantity and quality of their rations from the 1910s to the 1920s, while also raising their wages that allowed them to purchase better food. I additionally argue that during this period an “urban” or “rural” context did not fundamentally define how migrant workers acquired their food, as those laboring in both city and countryside received these rations. However, the article concludes by examining how after 1930, economic transformations changed Mombasa's food system so that workers became almost entirely reliant on cash and credit as the way they acquired their daily meals, while paternalism continued to infuse the food systems of rural migrant laborers. In sum, this article is a local study of coastal Kenya that is also concerned with global questions about how food provisioning fits into the social reproduction of working classes in industrial and colonial capitalism.

This paper examines an unsuccessful strike by Irish Catholic and Protestant workers at a woolen mill in 1919. The location, Caledon in County Tyrone, is renowned as a stronghold of Ulster Unionism and Orangeism, yet in the context of the revolutionary period in Ireland from 1916–1926, traditional sectarian divisions briefly abated in the face of working-class solidarity. In this respect, the analysis offers something of a corrective to assumptions regarding the immutability of sectarian divisions in Ulster. The article also places Caledon within the context of a widespread and sustained movement of unskilled workers in the main provincial city, Belfast, and across much of rural Ulster between 1918–1920. Nevertheless, the manner in which the employer defeated the strike and the village's subsequent history of violent sectarianism offers valuable insights into the creation and consolidation of Northern Ireland, or what many local Catholics called “the Orange State,” which celebrates its centenary in 2020.

Historians have extensively explored conflicts and reconciliation between labor and management, but have hardly considered how class hierarchy took shape and persisted. This article explores the birth of class hierarchy through the lens of the Tokyo Worker School. While education bureaucrats created this school as a training ground for skilled workers, the school's educators helped their students join white-collar positions and avoid the stigma against manual labor. By tracing this process, I explain how the aspirations of educators and students alike consolidated class hierarchy and explore why the collar line persisted despite the ascent of hitherto under-valued professions, such as engineering.