Manajemen | Fakultas Ekonomi Universitas Maritim Raja Ali Haji 2003 1 (20)
SOLIDARITY, REPRESENTATIVITY AND
ACCOUNTABILITY: THE ORIGINS, STATE
AND IMPLICATIONS OF SHOPFLOOR
DEMOCRACY WITHIN THE CONGRESS OF
SOUTH AFRICAN TRADE UNIONS
GEOFFREY WOOD*
T
he present paper explores the extent of internal democracy and grassroots participation within the Congress of South Africa Unions, focusing specifically on
questions of shopfloor organisation and the office of shopsteward, and is based on a nationwide survey of members of the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU).
The survey revealed remarkably high levels of participation within union internal
structures, and deeply embedded notions of accountability and recall.
INTRODUCTION
A particular characteristic of union organisation in many anglophone countries
is the key role played by the shopsteward or workplace representative. Generally
elected by her or his peers, the shopsteward is both a union official and an
employee within a unionised enterprise. A particular source of strength to
South Africa’s independent unions has been strong shopfloor organisation and
democracy, centering on the office of the shopsteward. Based on a nationwide
survey of trade union members, the present paper explores the current nature
and extent of shopfloor democracy in South Africa’s largest union federation, the
Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU).
ORIGINS
OF THE SHOPSTEWARD SYSTEM IN
SOUTH AFRICA
Worker organisation in South Africa began in 1841, with the formation of a
trade protection society by printers (Lewis 1984, p. 18). The discovery of gold
in 1886 led to the rapid growth of trade unions on the British model (including
the establishment of shopfloor representation centering on shopstewards), but
with one important difference: African workers were excluded. The resultant
unions were faced with a dilemma: should they protect their interests through a
reliance on skill and collective action, or through racial solidarity? The history
of these unions is a complex one, punctuated by periodic outbreaks of militancy,
* Professor of Comparative HRM, Middlesex University, The Burroughs, Hendon, NW4 4BT,
United Kingdom. Email: geoffreywood65@netscape.net The author would like to thank the two
anonymous referees for their very helpful comments.
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most notably the General Strike and Rebellion of 1922. However, by the 1950s,
almost all had chosen the path of conservatism, and in an historic compromise
with capital, traded off militancy for job protection of racial lines.
Black trade unionism in South Africa has its origins in the Industrial and
Commercial Workers Union of Africa (ICU), founded in 1919 (Bonner 1978).
The ICU expanded rapidly, but had a ‘random and disorganized membership’,
including labour tenants and rural peasants (Lewis 1984, p. 46). Power was
centralised, making endemic leadership disputes even more damaging. This, and
a lack of an effective policy agenda, resulted in the ICU effectively collapsing by
the late 1920s, although it enjoyed a modest revival in the urban centre of East
London in the late 1940s and 50s. Subsequent efforts to organise Africans, most
notably under the umbrella of the Federation of Non-European Trade Unions
and, subsequently, the Council of Non-European Trade Unions (CNETU) were
similarly, albeit not so spectacularly, unsuccessful. This reflected sustained
employer resistance, a lack of legal rights, and a reliance on a small coterie of
leaders. For example, the defeat of the 1946 African miner’s strike dealt CNETU’s
organisation a fatal blow, leading to a dramatic decline in membership and a
bitter round of leadership struggles (Sutcliffe and Wellings n.d., p. 7).
In 1955, the rump of CNETU joined together with a cluster of trade unions
that had refused (or were unable) to join the South African Trade Union Council
(which represented the bulk of white trade unions at the time), on account of
the latter’s increasing conservatism. The new federation, the South African
Congress of Trade Unions (SACTU), had its main power base and principal
financial support from the parallel Food and Canning and Textile Workers Unions
(FCWU 1955, n.p.). Nonetheless, SACTU represented a consolidation and
revitalisation of union organisation, and while operating in an extremely constrained environment, it indeed represented a new philosophy of more assertive
unionism: ‘political unionism’ (Lambert 1988, p. 32). The latter took the form
of a close alliance with the African National Congress, and support for the
latter’s community-based political campaigns and nationwide work stoppages.
SACTU never really succeeded in establishing a significant presence outside of
its strongholds in the textiles and metal industries, and was forced into exile as
a result of state repression in the early 1960s. While its neglect of day-to-day
workplace organisation contributed directly to its collapse, it has been argued
that SACTU had few strategic alternatives to ‘political unionism’ in the highly
repressive climate of the late 1950s and early 1960s (Lambert 1988; c.f. Feit 1955).
In the early 1970s, a grouping of intellectuals from ‘outside the ranks of the black
working class’, assisted by former trade union officials, provided a new impetus
to union organisation through the establishment of worker advice bureaus in
South Africa’s major urban centres (Maree 1987a, p. 2). In Natal, the activities
of the General Factory Worker Benefit Fund led to the formation of a number
of industrial unions, united under the umbrella of the Trade Union Advisory and
Coordinating Council (TUACC). After signing on large numbers of members
in the aftermath of a strike wave, the TUACC unions shifted their tactics to
those of consolidation, by placing a strong emphasis on building shopfloor
organisation (ibid. p. 3). The unions devoted a large proportion of their resources
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to establishing ‘the shopsteward structure as the key link between management
and the shopfloor’ (Webster 1987a, p. 25). On the Witwatersrand, the Industrial
Aid Society established the Metal and Allied Workers Union (MAWU). After
initially impressive membership gains, MAWU virtually collapsed by the close
of the decade, in the face of managerial opposition and bitter internal struggles
(Maree 1987a, p. 6). However, the union’s recovery was secured by concentrating
on the building of intensive shopfloor organisation, again with the shopsteward
playing a central role (ibid. p. 6). In the Western Cape, the Western Province
Workers Advice Bureau (WPWAB) again recorded impressive gains followed
by setbacks. As was the case with other organisational initiatives, the latter
represented the product of strategic errors, managerial opposition, as well as
broader developments, including the start of an economic downturn, and the
wave of state repression that followed the 1976 Soweto uprising. Once more,
WPWAB rebuilt itself by placing a strong emphasis on elected factory
representatives, and transformed itself into the Western Province General
Workers Union (Maree 1987a, p. 5).
Meanwhile, a grouping of officials formerly employed by the conservative Trade
Union Council of South Africa (TUCSA) established the Urban Training Project
(which, again, focused it attention on organising black workers) in the
Witwatersrand region. Again, this project led to the establishment of a number
of unions: unions that were particularly badly hit by the post-1976 Soweto wave
of repression (Maree 1987a, p. 5). However, this underscored the importance of
building a strong base in the factories.
In placing a strong emphasis on the need for effective shopfloor organisation,
the new ‘independent’ trade unions were not only informed by the experience
of SACTU (which highlighted the need for effective organisation at grassroots
level in order to weather state repression), but also that of the British labour movement. The years 1968 to 1974 represented the high water mark of the expansion of union density in Britain (Kelly 1998, p. 91). This wave of mobilisation
(albeit reflecting changes in the wider economy) was partially driven by the
prominent role of––and continuing increase in the numbers of workplaces
organised with––shopstewards (ibid. p. 96), and provided an inspiring example
for those seeking to promote trade union development in South Africa (see Maree
1987a, p. 2–3).1 In 1979, a new federation, the Federation of South African Trade
Unions (FOSATU) was formed, incorporating the TUACC unions, some former
Urban Trading Project Unions, and the revitalised national MAWU.
The emphasis on shopfloor organisation, coupled with an insistence on
‘working class leadership’ in political struggles (and the reluctance to get involved
in popular politics should it be organisationally damaging) represented an organising philosophy commonly described as ‘workerism’ (c.f. Baskin 1991). However,
pressures from membership––especially following the outbreak of the Mass
Insurrection in 1983, and the resultant state repression––forced the FOSATU
unions to reconsider their political role. It was increasingly evident that the rankand-file (and shopstewards) desired their unions to be allied with like-minded
political organisations, and that unions could not remain aloof from the broader
struggle.
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The 1970s also saw the emergence of a number of overtly political unions with
formal links to political organisations: the ‘populist’ unions. Most notably, the
Black Allied Workers Union (BAWU) was founded by Black Consciousnessorientated students on the Reef as an umbrella union dedicated to organising
all industrial workers (Friedman 1987, p. 44). However, BAWU soon encompassed workers who did not necessarily support Black Consciousness, leading to
BAWU’s transformation into the non-racial South African Allied Workers Union
(SAAWU) in 1979. Despite its political origins, SAAWU again accorded a
central role to shopstewards; although, feedback (in some cases, imperfect)
was given to members via mass meetings (Maree 1987b, p. 36–7). SAAWU’s
political activities––above all, opposing the ‘independence’ of the Ciskei
homeland––resulted in repressive action by the authorities (including the
murder of SAAWU activists). However, Maree (1987b, p. 37) argues that
‘too much reliance had been placed . . . on the union’s leader’s for many of its
activities’, making it particularly vulnerable to repression (even though the
strongest shopfloor structures would have battled to withstand the sheer
brutality of the Ciskeian regime). This resulted in SAAWU being more pragmatic in its dealings with the workerist unions.
In 1985, the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) was
launched, bringing together the FOSATU unions, a number of non-aligned
unions, populist unions such as SAAWU, and the massive National Union of
Mineworkers (NUM), which had defected from the black-consciousness aligned
Council of Unions of South Africa. Following on this, SAAWU disbanded, its
membership being divided into new industrial unions that centred on the former
FOSATU industrial unions. The NUM was an industrial union, and already had
established shaft steward structures on its entry to COSATU as founder affiliate
(Baskin 1991, p. 50; Friedman 1987, p. 387). A factor that facilitated union unity
was that, even in workerist unions, shopstewards were often also active in local
community campaigns as well; many had a direct interest in pursuing both
factory organisation and community struggle simultaneously (c.f. Friedman 1987,
p. 452–72). While an important dividing factor between community groupings
and unions was that often between representatives of the unemployed and the
employed (Friedman 1987, p. 453), in other cases––above all mining towns––key
workplaces embodied the community. Even in some regions of high unemployment, major employers––notably motor manufacturers and steel plants––formed
a central focus for communities, according workplace leaders a stature both inside
and outside the factory.
Local shopsteward councils became the backbone of COSATU, assisting in
organisational work, developing ‘ordinary worker leadership’, and representing
‘the first line of defense against repression’ (Baskin 1991, p. 450; c.f. Von Holdt
1991, p. 17–21). However, given the pressures placed on COSATU, particularly
after the banning of the United Democratic Front and other mass-based political
movements, it could be argued that worker education became increasingly
neglected. There is little doubt that COSATU was not able to devote the same
degree of attention to training workplace representatives as its antecedents did
in the 1970s and early 1980s (c.f. Baskin 1991); a problem that persisted into the
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1990s as the unions had to contend with the new challenges of democratisation
and economic adjustment (c.f. Barchiesi 1999, p. 22). Nonetheless, internal
shopfloor democracy remained vibrant throughout the 1990s, providing a
powerful check on managerial autonomy (Bohmke and Desai 1996; Barchiesi
1999, p. 25). At the same time, ‘the exodus of experienced union leaders (at all
levels) towards political positions in the ANC and government’ has weakened
the capacity of the labour movement (Barchiesi 1999, p. 25). This capacity can;
however, be regenerated by effective shopfloor democracy, drawing up a new
generation of leaders from the grassroots, especially because COSATU shopstewards “have been historically aware” of the need for transparency, leadership
accountability and the possibility of recall (ibid. p. 25).
Prior to 1995, shopstewards in South Africa had no statutorily delineated rights;
although, within individual workplaces, they may have negotiated enforceable
rights in terms of a union recognition agreement (Government Gazette No. 16861
1995). In terms of the 1995 Labour Relations Act, in any workplace where a representative trade union (i.e. one that has organised a majority of employees at a workplace) has at least ten members, these members are entitled to elect ‘trade unions
representatives’ from amongst their ranks (ibid.). Depending on the size of the
workforce, this number may vary from one (in the case of 10 or less than 10 union
members) to 20. Shopstewards are entitled to legal protection against victimisation, and have the right to represent employees in grievance and disciplinary
proceedings and to monitor the employer’s compliance with any law relating to
the terms and conditions of employment and legally binding collective agreements. In addition, they have the right to carry out any functions agreed upon
by the representative union and management (ibid.). Shopstewards are further
entitled to ‘reasonable’ paid time off during working hours to perform the
functions of a trade union representative, and for further training relevant to
the performance of her/his functions as a representative (ibid.).2
The 1995 Labour Relations Act also made provision for a second form of
workplace representation, via ‘workplace forums’, the equivalent of European
work councils. These forums have been generally eschewed by unions, reflecting
concerns that they might trigger off demarcation disputes and erode the traditional role of shopstewards (Wood and Mahabir 2001, p. 241).
South Africa’s historical experience continues to shape the organising strategies of unions. Drawing on the experiences of unions overseas and the failure of
previous attempts at mass unionisation, the independent unions remain committed
to retaining the office of shopsteward. There is similarly a general consensus
concerning the importance of a vibrant shopfloor democracy. Less clear; however, is the extent to which this is, and can be, maintained and reconstituted in
a context of broader socio-economic change.
METHOD
This paper is based on a survey, conducted in late 1998, among members of South
Africa’s principal trade union federation; the Congress of South African Trade
Unions (COSATU), working for private sector enterprises.3 The survey explored
changes in the nature of worker organisation, and the attitudes and expectations
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of members. Sample size was determined largely by the diversity of a population.
The final sample size was calculated after the administration of a pilot study prior
to the survey. It should be emphasised that there was a high degree of uniformity
in responses to key questions, cutting across gender, age and skill; in short, respondents represented a relatively homogenous grouping (Wood and Psoulis 2001,
p. 299). The pilot studies also facilitated greatly in the final structuring and
layout of the questionnaire and, in the case of the first survey, in the elimination
of difficult-to-understand or ambivalent questions.
Given potentially important geographic variations, area sampling was
employed. The country was divided into a number of key areas (Western Cape,
Eastern Cape, KwaZulu-Natal and Gauteng) where the bulk of South African
industry (and, indeed, the country’s overall population) is concentrated. In
each of these strata, key sectors were encompassed (e.g. the metal industry, the
chemical industry, etc.). A serious limitation of this method is that the sample
size within each strata (e.g. the Western Cape) has to be representative, necessitating a somewhat larger sample size than would otherwise have been the case.
The regional offices of each of the COSATU unions were contacted by the
researchers, and support for the initiative was secured. Thereafter, individual
employers were contacted, and access to workplaces was arranged. Employers
were selected by means of Telkom4 listings. Thereafter, employers were contracted
to confirm that their hourly/weekly paid workers were represented by a
COSATU union. The research project was a collaborative one, involving
academics from a number of South African universities, including Eddie
Webster, Johann Maree, David Ginsburg, Roger Southall, Shane Godfrey
and the author.
As an accurate list of trade union members was not available, final sampling
was performed systematically, within individual workplaces, the number of
workers being selected in proportion to the overall number of employees at
the workplace. Trained field workers conducted the interviews at individual
workplaces and administered questionnaires. The field workers were fully
familiar of the vernacular language within the relevant region. Respondents
were informed of the purpose of the survey, and assured that strict anonymity
would be preserved and that the data would be used for overall statistical
purposes only. The overwhelming majority of individuals selected reacted in
an extremely positive manner, resulting in an extremely high response rate. The
advantage of such a method is that the sample is compiled during the interviewing
process. It would be technically possible for an individual worker who switched
jobs during the research process to be interviewed twice. However, to eliminate
this possibility, the actual surveying process was conducted in as short a time as
possible. While considerable effort was expended to select workers from the entire
workforce, the researchers relied heavily on the goodwill of both management
and shopstewards. It is, therefore, possible that workers who were hostile to
both management and the relevant union could have been excluded from the
selection process (Wood and Psoulis 2001). Finally, it is recognised that ‘the
sampling procedure may be difficult to justify on purely technical grounds; it
was overly multi-layered. However, given the need to secure the support of a
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wide range of parties, and the lack of accurate trade union membership lists, it
represented the only feasible option under the circumstances. While it would
have been easier to have interviewed workers attending union meetings, this would
have course, eliminated those who were less active in union affairs. (Wood and
Psoulis 2001, p. 293–314).
COMPREHENDING
SHOPFLOOR DEMOCRACY: ISSUES AND INDICATORS
According to Olsonian theory of collective action, unions are ‘encompassing
organisations’, members being subsumed into a general ‘mass’, leading to
problems of representivity, and ultimately of maintaining mobilisation (Crouch
1982, p. 65). However, Crouch argues that in reality, unions are very much
more face-to-face organisations, in which the contributions of individual
members are of great importance in determining the strength of the group
(ibid. p. 66). Indeed, a study conducted by Goldthorpe and Lockwood in the
United Kingdom found that members tended to disassociate the national
profile of the union (to which they had little input) with shopfloor democracy
(most notably shopsteward elections) in which they took an active part (ibid.
p. 66). Again, a 1994 survey by Kelly and Heery of union officials found that
the degree of support they gave for strikes largely depended on their perceptions
of workplace support and the potential for victory. In other words, shopfloor
pressure played a central role in determining key union decisions at a local level,
even if it may entail financial costs for the national union. However, vibrant
shopfloor organisation does not seem to necessarily lead to the fragmentation of
unions on localised lines, owing to the reliance shopstewards placed on the union
for advice and help, and because they needed ‘the legitimacy of its recognition
to enhance their own standing with management’ (Batstone in Crouch 1982,
p. 66). In short, the shopfloor may be central to the making of trade union
identity, with localised sub-cultures determining membership profiles and
plant-level strategic choices.
Workers are more likely to have a direct influence over shopstewards than
national leadership; thus, there will not be the same problem of remoteness, if
shopfloor organisation is strong (Crouch 1982, p. 177; Kelly and Heery 1994).
Second, unions with strong internal democracy at shopfloor level may be able
to escape the Olsonian trap of a gulf emerging between a passive membership
and an ‘apparatus that has been erected to do a collective task for them’ (ibid.
p. 177). As Batstone et al. (1977, p. 2) argue, shopsteward organisation has
been seen variously as proof of strong normative pressures towards democratisation, promoting centralisation, and representing an oligarchy. Unfortunately,
defining both the concepts of trade union oligarchy and democracy remains
problematic, in that both incorporate an immediate (i.e. they are the expressed
wishes of union members implemented) and an ‘objective’ (e.g. is the long term
interest of the working class served) dimension (Batstone et al 1977:271). Indeed,
members may have a range of concerns, a set of which may be exploited by
leadership to impel the union in a conservative (or radical direction): again this
underscores the importance of the question as to where members’ ‘real interests’
lie (ibid. p. 272). This can be exacerbated by unequal access to information;
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leadership may be out of touch with the material conditions of communities, while
the latter may not necessarily have full knowledge of macro-economic trends
and/or the overall performance of specific industries. This can result in real
tensions between conciliatory leaders and a more radical grassroots: a ‘democratic rupture’. The conservative response is simply to suggest that national unions
could do more to reign in ‘disorderly’ local activists (Boraston et al. 1975, p. 195).
However, there are other ways in which this gap may be bridged; moreover,
reigning in shopfloor activists may be very difficult, and may result in union
organisation being damaged severely (ibid. p. 195–6), as borne out by the experiences of NUM of South Africa during the Mercedes-Benz and Volkswagen
disputes.5 In the end, this is bound up with questions of power: to what extent
can union members make their views felt within the union, and to what extent
can they immediately recall leaders that have been perceived to have departed
from their brief? Again, this is considerably easier at a shopfloor rather than a
national level. However, if there are strong horizontal linkages (i.e. if unions rely
on grassroots solidarity across workplaces when engaging in collective action)
officials are likely to have a wider range of local contacts, and be more in touch
with local debates (Kelly 1988, p. 170).
Two closely interrelated issues set South Africa apart from Britain and the rest
of the Anglo-Saxon world. First, there is the racial dimension. South Africa
expanded its domestic industrial sector under heavy state protectionism in the
post WW2 period, with a policy of active import substitution; what set the country apart from other industrialising countries was a rigid racial division of labour,
that is sometimes referred to as ‘racial fordism’ (Rogerson 1991, p. 356). Africans
were excluded from a wide range of semi-skilled and skilled occupations, and up
until 1979, were excluded from official collective bargaining structures. The persistence of racial segregation within and without the workplace in the 1980s precluded the government from politically incorporating the unions (Webster 1987b);
the emergence and consolidation of a radical shopfloor tradition owes much to
this. However, the complex nature of racial segregation sowed further divisions
within the working class among oppressed groupings as a result of unequal access
to resources. Such divides included that between ‘coloured’ (i.e. mixed racial
origin) and Indian workers. Second, there is a spatial one: a system making
widespread use of migrant labour and hostels resulted in a particularly close
link between work and residence for many workers. While this inevitably led to
some tensions with township dwellers,6 it also facilitated a common solidarity
forged around shared experiences of discrimination, including insecurity of
abode (c.f. Rogerson 1991, p. 359–60).
In summary, first, it is clear that shopfloor democracy matters. A high level of
shopfloor democracy means that unions are likely to be far more vibrant (albeit
internally diverse) than monolithic unions pursuing an Olsonian agenda at a
national level. Second, the danger of a ‘democratic rupture’ between national
leadership (that is invariably under considerable pressure from government and
business to be more conciliatory) and the rank and file is omnipresent under
such a scenario. However, unions will also be ‘pushed together’ by the symbiotic
relationship between union leaders (who rely on shopstewards to help reconstitute
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a mass base) and shopstewards (who rely on the union for legitimacy). Third, a
strong shopfloor democracy means that union officials are likely to be more aware
of localised concerns. This leads us to the question of how shopfloor democracy,
and the extent and constraints on a ‘democratic rupture’ with regional and national
leadership, may be measured.
First, there is the extent of horizontal linkages within and between unions at
grassroots level; in other words, the extent of mutual support that workers lend
each other (and indeed, the exchange of ideas) at grassroots level (Kelly 1988,
p. 170). Invariably drawn into a coordinating role, officials are more likely to
be aware of grassroots concerns and debates under such a scenario (ibid.). In
the survey, this is measured by the extent to which respondents had direct
experience of receiving concrete support from other unions or community
organisations when engaging in collective action.
Second, there is the question of ‘remoteness’ (Kelly and Heery 1994). In other
words, do union members see national leadership––and indeed, the leadership
of allied political organisations––as somehow distinct from workplace organisation, subject to different rules, and not bound by the same degree of accountability? This is measured in the survey by the extent to which union members
see political leaders as bound by the need to report back, and subject to recall if
need be.
Third, while much of the contemporary literature on the possibility of a
Michelsian ‘iron law of oligarchy’ being in force focuses on tensions between
shopfloor activists and national leadership, it is possible that shopstewards
themselves can constitute an oligarchic elite (Crouch 1982, p. 182). The obvious
check on such a development would be if shopstewards can be readily deposed
by their constituents if they fail to carry out their wishes, and whether this regularly takes place in reality (see ibid.). In the survey, respondents were asked if
they believed if shopstewards should be subject to recall if they exceeded their
brief, and whether they had personal experience of having deposed a shopsteward.
Fourth, there is the question of whether unions can escape the ‘Olsonian
trap’ playing a national role of limited local relevance, or whether they remain
face-to-face organisations, with high levels of grassroots participation in their
internal life (Crouch 1982, p. 65). This is measured by the extent to which
respondents regularly attended union meetings.
Finally, there is little doubt that the global trend is towards greater diversity
in the workforce; while there continue to be good reasons for workers to unite,
there are powerful centripetal tendencies. Many writers have highlighted the
differences in experiences workers may bring to the workplace, and the vital
need to overcome gender, skill and age divisions (see, for example, Moody 1997;
Hyman 1992; Rogers 1995; Weinbaum 1999; Wood and Psoulis 2001).
FINDINGS
The responses to a range of key questions are summarised in Table 1.
In general, the survey revealed a remarkably high degree of social solidarity
among COSATU members, straddling occupational, skill and gender divides
(Wood and Psoulis 2001). However, there were some statistically significant
Table 1
Summary of responses to key questions
Question
Note: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1.
No (%)
Unsure (%)
n
66.0
46.3
97.5
92.8
28.6
33.1
1.7
4.7
5.3
20.6
0.8
2.5
636
432
639
639
35.9
58.9
5.2
633
S O L I D A R I T Y, R E P R E S E N TAT I V I T Y
Has your union embarked on industrial action since 1994?
Did your union receive any solidarity action from other unions?
Do you have shopstewards at your workplace?
If a shopsteward does not do what workers want, should they
have the right to remove her/him?
In your workplace, has a shopsteward ever been removed?
Answer
Yes (%)
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cleavages between different categories of respondents to a number of key
questions dealing with or related to issues of shopfloor democracy. Where
divisions proved to be statistically significant, they are presented in the form
of cross-tabulations.
Horizontal linkages
As can be seen from Table 1, two-thirds of respondents had experience of
their union embarking on industrial action since 1994. Of these, the mode had
experience of solidarity action from fellow unions. This would strengthen
the hands of workers engaging in collective action, and, through co-ordinating
efforts, make union officials more aware of grassroots concerns (Kelly 1988,
p. 170).
It is interesting to note that, while those with different skill and educational
attainments were equally likely to strike, men were more prone to engage in
collective action than women, as can be seen in Table 2.
This discrepancy may be partially explained by the fact that a large proportion
of the female members of COSATU is concentrated in the South African Clothing
and Textile Workers Unions (SACTWU).7 The latter’s low strike profile represents a combination of a long tradition of quiescent unionism,8 ethnic and cultural
divisions,9 coupled with large scale down-scaling in that industry (and hence, fear
of job losses) following the dropping of protective tariffs (c.f. Baskin 1991;
Friedman 1987). However, a lower proclivity to strike could also reflect the
tendency of women to be less active in union affairs.
Remoteness
In terms of the tripartite alliance with the ruling African Congress (ANC),
COSATU is entitled to nominate 20 senior members to be placed in prominent
positions on the ANC’s list of parliamentary candidates (South Africa’s electoral
system is based on the principle of proportional representation). Drawing on the
findings of the survey database, Wood and Psoulis (2001) found that COSATU
members saw their parliamentary representatives as subject to the same rules of
accountability and recall as their shopstewards. In short, while utility of the
Alliance for COSATU may be contested (see Habib and Taylor 1999), it is
evident that the rank and file do not see national leadership as being subject to
different rules of accountability to those elected at local level; support remains
contingent on delivery (Southall and Wood 1999).
Table 2
Gender by experience of strike action (%)
Experience of strike action
Yes
No
Unsure
Gender
Male
Female
Total
70.2
56.1
66
26.2
34.4
28.6
3.6
9.5
5.3
Notes: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1. χ2 = 15.948; d.f. = 2; s = 0.00; n = 636.
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It should be noted that a deeply embedded culture of non-collaboration forged
in the liberation struggle persists. To many, the state is still a contested terrain,
rather than a liberated zone. The same holds true for many other social institutions (c.f. Southall and Wood 1999; Habib and Taylor 1999; Barchiesi 1999). This
militancy is a two-edged sword: it represents a powerful means of mobilisation,
but makes it difficult for leadership to hold members to agreements reached, and
for membership to accept the legitimacy of other interest groupings in society.
Checks on oligarchic tendencies at shopfloor level: Accountability and recall of
shopstewards
As can be seen from Table 1, 97.5% of respondents had shopstewards at their
workplace. There is little doubt that this office remains an important characteristic of union organisation in South Africa. More than one-third of respondents
(35.9%) had personal experience of an errant shopsteward being relieved of their
office. The most common reasons given were a perceived untrustworthiness
of the incumbent, a failure to deliver on worker demands and/or an inability to
effectively represent worker interests. Moreover, 92.7% of respondents reported
that the shopstewards at their workplace were democratically elected by their
constituents, most commonly by means of a secret ballot.10 Again, there was
generally a high degree of commonality in response to these questions, cutting
across gender, age, skill and educational divides. However, female respondents
were somewhat more uncertain of the method of election (Table 3), while a show
Table 3
Gender by method of electing shopstewards (%)
How were your shopstewards
elected (if elected)?
Gender
Male
Female
Total
Show
of hands
Secret
ballot
42.3
43.2
42.6
53.6
43.7
50.6
Don’t know/
Total
can’t remember
4.1
13.2
6.8
100
100
100
Notes: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1. χ2 = 18.867; d.f. = 2; s = 0.00; n = 634.
Table 4
Education by method of electing shopstewards (%)
How were your shopstewards
elected (if elected)?
Highest educational level
2 years
Never
Don’t know
4.9
2.6
4.2
20.2
20.0
20.0
24.4
18.9
22.8
26.9
29.5
27.7
14.6
8.4
12.7
5.6
12.6
7.7
3.4
7.9
4.7
Notes: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1. χ2 = 22.043; d.f. = 6; s = 0.01; n = 639.
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Gender
Male
Female
Total
ACCOUNTABILITY: THE ORIGINS, STATE
AND IMPLICATIONS OF SHOPFLOOR
DEMOCRACY WITHIN THE CONGRESS OF
SOUTH AFRICAN TRADE UNIONS
GEOFFREY WOOD*
T
he present paper explores the extent of internal democracy and grassroots participation within the Congress of South Africa Unions, focusing specifically on
questions of shopfloor organisation and the office of shopsteward, and is based on a nationwide survey of members of the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU).
The survey revealed remarkably high levels of participation within union internal
structures, and deeply embedded notions of accountability and recall.
INTRODUCTION
A particular characteristic of union organisation in many anglophone countries
is the key role played by the shopsteward or workplace representative. Generally
elected by her or his peers, the shopsteward is both a union official and an
employee within a unionised enterprise. A particular source of strength to
South Africa’s independent unions has been strong shopfloor organisation and
democracy, centering on the office of the shopsteward. Based on a nationwide
survey of trade union members, the present paper explores the current nature
and extent of shopfloor democracy in South Africa’s largest union federation, the
Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU).
ORIGINS
OF THE SHOPSTEWARD SYSTEM IN
SOUTH AFRICA
Worker organisation in South Africa began in 1841, with the formation of a
trade protection society by printers (Lewis 1984, p. 18). The discovery of gold
in 1886 led to the rapid growth of trade unions on the British model (including
the establishment of shopfloor representation centering on shopstewards), but
with one important difference: African workers were excluded. The resultant
unions were faced with a dilemma: should they protect their interests through a
reliance on skill and collective action, or through racial solidarity? The history
of these unions is a complex one, punctuated by periodic outbreaks of militancy,
* Professor of Comparative HRM, Middlesex University, The Burroughs, Hendon, NW4 4BT,
United Kingdom. Email: geoffreywood65@netscape.net The author would like to thank the two
anonymous referees for their very helpful comments.
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most notably the General Strike and Rebellion of 1922. However, by the 1950s,
almost all had chosen the path of conservatism, and in an historic compromise
with capital, traded off militancy for job protection of racial lines.
Black trade unionism in South Africa has its origins in the Industrial and
Commercial Workers Union of Africa (ICU), founded in 1919 (Bonner 1978).
The ICU expanded rapidly, but had a ‘random and disorganized membership’,
including labour tenants and rural peasants (Lewis 1984, p. 46). Power was
centralised, making endemic leadership disputes even more damaging. This, and
a lack of an effective policy agenda, resulted in the ICU effectively collapsing by
the late 1920s, although it enjoyed a modest revival in the urban centre of East
London in the late 1940s and 50s. Subsequent efforts to organise Africans, most
notably under the umbrella of the Federation of Non-European Trade Unions
and, subsequently, the Council of Non-European Trade Unions (CNETU) were
similarly, albeit not so spectacularly, unsuccessful. This reflected sustained
employer resistance, a lack of legal rights, and a reliance on a small coterie of
leaders. For example, the defeat of the 1946 African miner’s strike dealt CNETU’s
organisation a fatal blow, leading to a dramatic decline in membership and a
bitter round of leadership struggles (Sutcliffe and Wellings n.d., p. 7).
In 1955, the rump of CNETU joined together with a cluster of trade unions
that had refused (or were unable) to join the South African Trade Union Council
(which represented the bulk of white trade unions at the time), on account of
the latter’s increasing conservatism. The new federation, the South African
Congress of Trade Unions (SACTU), had its main power base and principal
financial support from the parallel Food and Canning and Textile Workers Unions
(FCWU 1955, n.p.). Nonetheless, SACTU represented a consolidation and
revitalisation of union organisation, and while operating in an extremely constrained environment, it indeed represented a new philosophy of more assertive
unionism: ‘political unionism’ (Lambert 1988, p. 32). The latter took the form
of a close alliance with the African National Congress, and support for the
latter’s community-based political campaigns and nationwide work stoppages.
SACTU never really succeeded in establishing a significant presence outside of
its strongholds in the textiles and metal industries, and was forced into exile as
a result of state repression in the early 1960s. While its neglect of day-to-day
workplace organisation contributed directly to its collapse, it has been argued
that SACTU had few strategic alternatives to ‘political unionism’ in the highly
repressive climate of the late 1950s and early 1960s (Lambert 1988; c.f. Feit 1955).
In the early 1970s, a grouping of intellectuals from ‘outside the ranks of the black
working class’, assisted by former trade union officials, provided a new impetus
to union organisation through the establishment of worker advice bureaus in
South Africa’s major urban centres (Maree 1987a, p. 2). In Natal, the activities
of the General Factory Worker Benefit Fund led to the formation of a number
of industrial unions, united under the umbrella of the Trade Union Advisory and
Coordinating Council (TUACC). After signing on large numbers of members
in the aftermath of a strike wave, the TUACC unions shifted their tactics to
those of consolidation, by placing a strong emphasis on building shopfloor
organisation (ibid. p. 3). The unions devoted a large proportion of their resources
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to establishing ‘the shopsteward structure as the key link between management
and the shopfloor’ (Webster 1987a, p. 25). On the Witwatersrand, the Industrial
Aid Society established the Metal and Allied Workers Union (MAWU). After
initially impressive membership gains, MAWU virtually collapsed by the close
of the decade, in the face of managerial opposition and bitter internal struggles
(Maree 1987a, p. 6). However, the union’s recovery was secured by concentrating
on the building of intensive shopfloor organisation, again with the shopsteward
playing a central role (ibid. p. 6). In the Western Cape, the Western Province
Workers Advice Bureau (WPWAB) again recorded impressive gains followed
by setbacks. As was the case with other organisational initiatives, the latter
represented the product of strategic errors, managerial opposition, as well as
broader developments, including the start of an economic downturn, and the
wave of state repression that followed the 1976 Soweto uprising. Once more,
WPWAB rebuilt itself by placing a strong emphasis on elected factory
representatives, and transformed itself into the Western Province General
Workers Union (Maree 1987a, p. 5).
Meanwhile, a grouping of officials formerly employed by the conservative Trade
Union Council of South Africa (TUCSA) established the Urban Training Project
(which, again, focused it attention on organising black workers) in the
Witwatersrand region. Again, this project led to the establishment of a number
of unions: unions that were particularly badly hit by the post-1976 Soweto wave
of repression (Maree 1987a, p. 5). However, this underscored the importance of
building a strong base in the factories.
In placing a strong emphasis on the need for effective shopfloor organisation,
the new ‘independent’ trade unions were not only informed by the experience
of SACTU (which highlighted the need for effective organisation at grassroots
level in order to weather state repression), but also that of the British labour movement. The years 1968 to 1974 represented the high water mark of the expansion of union density in Britain (Kelly 1998, p. 91). This wave of mobilisation
(albeit reflecting changes in the wider economy) was partially driven by the
prominent role of––and continuing increase in the numbers of workplaces
organised with––shopstewards (ibid. p. 96), and provided an inspiring example
for those seeking to promote trade union development in South Africa (see Maree
1987a, p. 2–3).1 In 1979, a new federation, the Federation of South African Trade
Unions (FOSATU) was formed, incorporating the TUACC unions, some former
Urban Trading Project Unions, and the revitalised national MAWU.
The emphasis on shopfloor organisation, coupled with an insistence on
‘working class leadership’ in political struggles (and the reluctance to get involved
in popular politics should it be organisationally damaging) represented an organising philosophy commonly described as ‘workerism’ (c.f. Baskin 1991). However,
pressures from membership––especially following the outbreak of the Mass
Insurrection in 1983, and the resultant state repression––forced the FOSATU
unions to reconsider their political role. It was increasingly evident that the rankand-file (and shopstewards) desired their unions to be allied with like-minded
political organisations, and that unions could not remain aloof from the broader
struggle.
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The 1970s also saw the emergence of a number of overtly political unions with
formal links to political organisations: the ‘populist’ unions. Most notably, the
Black Allied Workers Union (BAWU) was founded by Black Consciousnessorientated students on the Reef as an umbrella union dedicated to organising
all industrial workers (Friedman 1987, p. 44). However, BAWU soon encompassed workers who did not necessarily support Black Consciousness, leading to
BAWU’s transformation into the non-racial South African Allied Workers Union
(SAAWU) in 1979. Despite its political origins, SAAWU again accorded a
central role to shopstewards; although, feedback (in some cases, imperfect)
was given to members via mass meetings (Maree 1987b, p. 36–7). SAAWU’s
political activities––above all, opposing the ‘independence’ of the Ciskei
homeland––resulted in repressive action by the authorities (including the
murder of SAAWU activists). However, Maree (1987b, p. 37) argues that
‘too much reliance had been placed . . . on the union’s leader’s for many of its
activities’, making it particularly vulnerable to repression (even though the
strongest shopfloor structures would have battled to withstand the sheer
brutality of the Ciskeian regime). This resulted in SAAWU being more pragmatic in its dealings with the workerist unions.
In 1985, the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) was
launched, bringing together the FOSATU unions, a number of non-aligned
unions, populist unions such as SAAWU, and the massive National Union of
Mineworkers (NUM), which had defected from the black-consciousness aligned
Council of Unions of South Africa. Following on this, SAAWU disbanded, its
membership being divided into new industrial unions that centred on the former
FOSATU industrial unions. The NUM was an industrial union, and already had
established shaft steward structures on its entry to COSATU as founder affiliate
(Baskin 1991, p. 50; Friedman 1987, p. 387). A factor that facilitated union unity
was that, even in workerist unions, shopstewards were often also active in local
community campaigns as well; many had a direct interest in pursuing both
factory organisation and community struggle simultaneously (c.f. Friedman 1987,
p. 452–72). While an important dividing factor between community groupings
and unions was that often between representatives of the unemployed and the
employed (Friedman 1987, p. 453), in other cases––above all mining towns––key
workplaces embodied the community. Even in some regions of high unemployment, major employers––notably motor manufacturers and steel plants––formed
a central focus for communities, according workplace leaders a stature both inside
and outside the factory.
Local shopsteward councils became the backbone of COSATU, assisting in
organisational work, developing ‘ordinary worker leadership’, and representing
‘the first line of defense against repression’ (Baskin 1991, p. 450; c.f. Von Holdt
1991, p. 17–21). However, given the pressures placed on COSATU, particularly
after the banning of the United Democratic Front and other mass-based political
movements, it could be argued that worker education became increasingly
neglected. There is little doubt that COSATU was not able to devote the same
degree of attention to training workplace representatives as its antecedents did
in the 1970s and early 1980s (c.f. Baskin 1991); a problem that persisted into the
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1990s as the unions had to contend with the new challenges of democratisation
and economic adjustment (c.f. Barchiesi 1999, p. 22). Nonetheless, internal
shopfloor democracy remained vibrant throughout the 1990s, providing a
powerful check on managerial autonomy (Bohmke and Desai 1996; Barchiesi
1999, p. 25). At the same time, ‘the exodus of experienced union leaders (at all
levels) towards political positions in the ANC and government’ has weakened
the capacity of the labour movement (Barchiesi 1999, p. 25). This capacity can;
however, be regenerated by effective shopfloor democracy, drawing up a new
generation of leaders from the grassroots, especially because COSATU shopstewards “have been historically aware” of the need for transparency, leadership
accountability and the possibility of recall (ibid. p. 25).
Prior to 1995, shopstewards in South Africa had no statutorily delineated rights;
although, within individual workplaces, they may have negotiated enforceable
rights in terms of a union recognition agreement (Government Gazette No. 16861
1995). In terms of the 1995 Labour Relations Act, in any workplace where a representative trade union (i.e. one that has organised a majority of employees at a workplace) has at least ten members, these members are entitled to elect ‘trade unions
representatives’ from amongst their ranks (ibid.). Depending on the size of the
workforce, this number may vary from one (in the case of 10 or less than 10 union
members) to 20. Shopstewards are entitled to legal protection against victimisation, and have the right to represent employees in grievance and disciplinary
proceedings and to monitor the employer’s compliance with any law relating to
the terms and conditions of employment and legally binding collective agreements. In addition, they have the right to carry out any functions agreed upon
by the representative union and management (ibid.). Shopstewards are further
entitled to ‘reasonable’ paid time off during working hours to perform the
functions of a trade union representative, and for further training relevant to
the performance of her/his functions as a representative (ibid.).2
The 1995 Labour Relations Act also made provision for a second form of
workplace representation, via ‘workplace forums’, the equivalent of European
work councils. These forums have been generally eschewed by unions, reflecting
concerns that they might trigger off demarcation disputes and erode the traditional role of shopstewards (Wood and Mahabir 2001, p. 241).
South Africa’s historical experience continues to shape the organising strategies of unions. Drawing on the experiences of unions overseas and the failure of
previous attempts at mass unionisation, the independent unions remain committed
to retaining the office of shopsteward. There is similarly a general consensus
concerning the importance of a vibrant shopfloor democracy. Less clear; however, is the extent to which this is, and can be, maintained and reconstituted in
a context of broader socio-economic change.
METHOD
This paper is based on a survey, conducted in late 1998, among members of South
Africa’s principal trade union federation; the Congress of South African Trade
Unions (COSATU), working for private sector enterprises.3 The survey explored
changes in the nature of worker organisation, and the attitudes and expectations
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of members. Sample size was determined largely by the diversity of a population.
The final sample size was calculated after the administration of a pilot study prior
to the survey. It should be emphasised that there was a high degree of uniformity
in responses to key questions, cutting across gender, age and skill; in short, respondents represented a relatively homogenous grouping (Wood and Psoulis 2001,
p. 299). The pilot studies also facilitated greatly in the final structuring and
layout of the questionnaire and, in the case of the first survey, in the elimination
of difficult-to-understand or ambivalent questions.
Given potentially important geographic variations, area sampling was
employed. The country was divided into a number of key areas (Western Cape,
Eastern Cape, KwaZulu-Natal and Gauteng) where the bulk of South African
industry (and, indeed, the country’s overall population) is concentrated. In
each of these strata, key sectors were encompassed (e.g. the metal industry, the
chemical industry, etc.). A serious limitation of this method is that the sample
size within each strata (e.g. the Western Cape) has to be representative, necessitating a somewhat larger sample size than would otherwise have been the case.
The regional offices of each of the COSATU unions were contacted by the
researchers, and support for the initiative was secured. Thereafter, individual
employers were contacted, and access to workplaces was arranged. Employers
were selected by means of Telkom4 listings. Thereafter, employers were contracted
to confirm that their hourly/weekly paid workers were represented by a
COSATU union. The research project was a collaborative one, involving
academics from a number of South African universities, including Eddie
Webster, Johann Maree, David Ginsburg, Roger Southall, Shane Godfrey
and the author.
As an accurate list of trade union members was not available, final sampling
was performed systematically, within individual workplaces, the number of
workers being selected in proportion to the overall number of employees at
the workplace. Trained field workers conducted the interviews at individual
workplaces and administered questionnaires. The field workers were fully
familiar of the vernacular language within the relevant region. Respondents
were informed of the purpose of the survey, and assured that strict anonymity
would be preserved and that the data would be used for overall statistical
purposes only. The overwhelming majority of individuals selected reacted in
an extremely positive manner, resulting in an extremely high response rate. The
advantage of such a method is that the sample is compiled during the interviewing
process. It would be technically possible for an individual worker who switched
jobs during the research process to be interviewed twice. However, to eliminate
this possibility, the actual surveying process was conducted in as short a time as
possible. While considerable effort was expended to select workers from the entire
workforce, the researchers relied heavily on the goodwill of both management
and shopstewards. It is, therefore, possible that workers who were hostile to
both management and the relevant union could have been excluded from the
selection process (Wood and Psoulis 2001). Finally, it is recognised that ‘the
sampling procedure may be difficult to justify on purely technical grounds; it
was overly multi-layered. However, given the need to secure the support of a
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wide range of parties, and the lack of accurate trade union membership lists, it
represented the only feasible option under the circumstances. While it would
have been easier to have interviewed workers attending union meetings, this would
have course, eliminated those who were less active in union affairs. (Wood and
Psoulis 2001, p. 293–314).
COMPREHENDING
SHOPFLOOR DEMOCRACY: ISSUES AND INDICATORS
According to Olsonian theory of collective action, unions are ‘encompassing
organisations’, members being subsumed into a general ‘mass’, leading to
problems of representivity, and ultimately of maintaining mobilisation (Crouch
1982, p. 65). However, Crouch argues that in reality, unions are very much
more face-to-face organisations, in which the contributions of individual
members are of great importance in determining the strength of the group
(ibid. p. 66). Indeed, a study conducted by Goldthorpe and Lockwood in the
United Kingdom found that members tended to disassociate the national
profile of the union (to which they had little input) with shopfloor democracy
(most notably shopsteward elections) in which they took an active part (ibid.
p. 66). Again, a 1994 survey by Kelly and Heery of union officials found that
the degree of support they gave for strikes largely depended on their perceptions
of workplace support and the potential for victory. In other words, shopfloor
pressure played a central role in determining key union decisions at a local level,
even if it may entail financial costs for the national union. However, vibrant
shopfloor organisation does not seem to necessarily lead to the fragmentation of
unions on localised lines, owing to the reliance shopstewards placed on the union
for advice and help, and because they needed ‘the legitimacy of its recognition
to enhance their own standing with management’ (Batstone in Crouch 1982,
p. 66). In short, the shopfloor may be central to the making of trade union
identity, with localised sub-cultures determining membership profiles and
plant-level strategic choices.
Workers are more likely to have a direct influence over shopstewards than
national leadership; thus, there will not be the same problem of remoteness, if
shopfloor organisation is strong (Crouch 1982, p. 177; Kelly and Heery 1994).
Second, unions with strong internal democracy at shopfloor level may be able
to escape the Olsonian trap of a gulf emerging between a passive membership
and an ‘apparatus that has been erected to do a collective task for them’ (ibid.
p. 177). As Batstone et al. (1977, p. 2) argue, shopsteward organisation has
been seen variously as proof of strong normative pressures towards democratisation, promoting centralisation, and representing an oligarchy. Unfortunately,
defining both the concepts of trade union oligarchy and democracy remains
problematic, in that both incorporate an immediate (i.e. they are the expressed
wishes of union members implemented) and an ‘objective’ (e.g. is the long term
interest of the working class served) dimension (Batstone et al 1977:271). Indeed,
members may have a range of concerns, a set of which may be exploited by
leadership to impel the union in a conservative (or radical direction): again this
underscores the importance of the question as to where members’ ‘real interests’
lie (ibid. p. 272). This can be exacerbated by unequal access to information;
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leadership may be out of touch with the material conditions of communities, while
the latter may not necessarily have full knowledge of macro-economic trends
and/or the overall performance of specific industries. This can result in real
tensions between conciliatory leaders and a more radical grassroots: a ‘democratic rupture’. The conservative response is simply to suggest that national unions
could do more to reign in ‘disorderly’ local activists (Boraston et al. 1975, p. 195).
However, there are other ways in which this gap may be bridged; moreover,
reigning in shopfloor activists may be very difficult, and may result in union
organisation being damaged severely (ibid. p. 195–6), as borne out by the experiences of NUM of South Africa during the Mercedes-Benz and Volkswagen
disputes.5 In the end, this is bound up with questions of power: to what extent
can union members make their views felt within the union, and to what extent
can they immediately recall leaders that have been perceived to have departed
from their brief? Again, this is considerably easier at a shopfloor rather than a
national level. However, if there are strong horizontal linkages (i.e. if unions rely
on grassroots solidarity across workplaces when engaging in collective action)
officials are likely to have a wider range of local contacts, and be more in touch
with local debates (Kelly 1988, p. 170).
Two closely interrelated issues set South Africa apart from Britain and the rest
of the Anglo-Saxon world. First, there is the racial dimension. South Africa
expanded its domestic industrial sector under heavy state protectionism in the
post WW2 period, with a policy of active import substitution; what set the country apart from other industrialising countries was a rigid racial division of labour,
that is sometimes referred to as ‘racial fordism’ (Rogerson 1991, p. 356). Africans
were excluded from a wide range of semi-skilled and skilled occupations, and up
until 1979, were excluded from official collective bargaining structures. The persistence of racial segregation within and without the workplace in the 1980s precluded the government from politically incorporating the unions (Webster 1987b);
the emergence and consolidation of a radical shopfloor tradition owes much to
this. However, the complex nature of racial segregation sowed further divisions
within the working class among oppressed groupings as a result of unequal access
to resources. Such divides included that between ‘coloured’ (i.e. mixed racial
origin) and Indian workers. Second, there is a spatial one: a system making
widespread use of migrant labour and hostels resulted in a particularly close
link between work and residence for many workers. While this inevitably led to
some tensions with township dwellers,6 it also facilitated a common solidarity
forged around shared experiences of discrimination, including insecurity of
abode (c.f. Rogerson 1991, p. 359–60).
In summary, first, it is clear that shopfloor democracy matters. A high level of
shopfloor democracy means that unions are likely to be far more vibrant (albeit
internally diverse) than monolithic unions pursuing an Olsonian agenda at a
national level. Second, the danger of a ‘democratic rupture’ between national
leadership (that is invariably under considerable pressure from government and
business to be more conciliatory) and the rank and file is omnipresent under
such a scenario. However, unions will also be ‘pushed together’ by the symbiotic
relationship between union leaders (who rely on shopstewards to help reconstitute
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a mass base) and shopstewards (who rely on the union for legitimacy). Third, a
strong shopfloor democracy means that union officials are likely to be more aware
of localised concerns. This leads us to the question of how shopfloor democracy,
and the extent and constraints on a ‘democratic rupture’ with regional and national
leadership, may be measured.
First, there is the extent of horizontal linkages within and between unions at
grassroots level; in other words, the extent of mutual support that workers lend
each other (and indeed, the exchange of ideas) at grassroots level (Kelly 1988,
p. 170). Invariably drawn into a coordinating role, officials are more likely to
be aware of grassroots concerns and debates under such a scenario (ibid.). In
the survey, this is measured by the extent to which respondents had direct
experience of receiving concrete support from other unions or community
organisations when engaging in collective action.
Second, there is the question of ‘remoteness’ (Kelly and Heery 1994). In other
words, do union members see national leadership––and indeed, the leadership
of allied political organisations––as somehow distinct from workplace organisation, subject to different rules, and not bound by the same degree of accountability? This is measured in the survey by the extent to which union members
see political leaders as bound by the need to report back, and subject to recall if
need be.
Third, while much of the contemporary literature on the possibility of a
Michelsian ‘iron law of oligarchy’ being in force focuses on tensions between
shopfloor activists and national leadership, it is possible that shopstewards
themselves can constitute an oligarchic elite (Crouch 1982, p. 182). The obvious
check on such a development would be if shopstewards can be readily deposed
by their constituents if they fail to carry out their wishes, and whether this regularly takes place in reality (see ibid.). In the survey, respondents were asked if
they believed if shopstewards should be subject to recall if they exceeded their
brief, and whether they had personal experience of having deposed a shopsteward.
Fourth, there is the question of whether unions can escape the ‘Olsonian
trap’ playing a national role of limited local relevance, or whether they remain
face-to-face organisations, with high levels of grassroots participation in their
internal life (Crouch 1982, p. 65). This is measured by the extent to which
respondents regularly attended union meetings.
Finally, there is little doubt that the global trend is towards greater diversity
in the workforce; while there continue to be good reasons for workers to unite,
there are powerful centripetal tendencies. Many writers have highlighted the
differences in experiences workers may bring to the workplace, and the vital
need to overcome gender, skill and age divisions (see, for example, Moody 1997;
Hyman 1992; Rogers 1995; Weinbaum 1999; Wood and Psoulis 2001).
FINDINGS
The responses to a range of key questions are summarised in Table 1.
In general, the survey revealed a remarkably high degree of social solidarity
among COSATU members, straddling occupational, skill and gender divides
(Wood and Psoulis 2001). However, there were some statistically significant
Table 1
Summary of responses to key questions
Question
Note: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1.
No (%)
Unsure (%)
n
66.0
46.3
97.5
92.8
28.6
33.1
1.7
4.7
5.3
20.6
0.8
2.5
636
432
639
639
35.9
58.9
5.2
633
S O L I D A R I T Y, R E P R E S E N TAT I V I T Y
Has your union embarked on industrial action since 1994?
Did your union receive any solidarity action from other unions?
Do you have shopstewards at your workplace?
If a shopsteward does not do what workers want, should they
have the right to remove her/him?
In your workplace, has a shopsteward ever been removed?
Answer
Yes (%)
AND
A C C O U N TA B I L I T Y
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336
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September 2003
cleavages between different categories of respondents to a number of key
questions dealing with or related to issues of shopfloor democracy. Where
divisions proved to be statistically significant, they are presented in the form
of cross-tabulations.
Horizontal linkages
As can be seen from Table 1, two-thirds of respondents had experience of
their union embarking on industrial action since 1994. Of these, the mode had
experience of solidarity action from fellow unions. This would strengthen
the hands of workers engaging in collective action, and, through co-ordinating
efforts, make union officials more aware of grassroots concerns (Kelly 1988,
p. 170).
It is interesting to note that, while those with different skill and educational
attainments were equally likely to strike, men were more prone to engage in
collective action than women, as can be seen in Table 2.
This discrepancy may be partially explained by the fact that a large proportion
of the female members of COSATU is concentrated in the South African Clothing
and Textile Workers Unions (SACTWU).7 The latter’s low strike profile represents a combination of a long tradition of quiescent unionism,8 ethnic and cultural
divisions,9 coupled with large scale down-scaling in that industry (and hence, fear
of job losses) following the dropping of protective tariffs (c.f. Baskin 1991;
Friedman 1987). However, a lower proclivity to strike could also reflect the
tendency of women to be less active in union affairs.
Remoteness
In terms of the tripartite alliance with the ruling African Congress (ANC),
COSATU is entitled to nominate 20 senior members to be placed in prominent
positions on the ANC’s list of parliamentary candidates (South Africa’s electoral
system is based on the principle of proportional representation). Drawing on the
findings of the survey database, Wood and Psoulis (2001) found that COSATU
members saw their parliamentary representatives as subject to the same rules of
accountability and recall as their shopstewards. In short, while utility of the
Alliance for COSATU may be contested (see Habib and Taylor 1999), it is
evident that the rank and file do not see national leadership as being subject to
different rules of accountability to those elected at local level; support remains
contingent on delivery (Southall and Wood 1999).
Table 2
Gender by experience of strike action (%)
Experience of strike action
Yes
No
Unsure
Gender
Male
Female
Total
70.2
56.1
66
26.2
34.4
28.6
3.6
9.5
5.3
Notes: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1. χ2 = 15.948; d.f. = 2; s = 0.00; n = 636.
S O L I D A R I T Y, R E P R E S E N TAT I V I T Y
AND
A C C O U N TA B I L I T Y
337
It should be noted that a deeply embedded culture of non-collaboration forged
in the liberation struggle persists. To many, the state is still a contested terrain,
rather than a liberated zone. The same holds true for many other social institutions (c.f. Southall and Wood 1999; Habib and Taylor 1999; Barchiesi 1999). This
militancy is a two-edged sword: it represents a powerful means of mobilisation,
but makes it difficult for leadership to hold members to agreements reached, and
for membership to accept the legitimacy of other interest groupings in society.
Checks on oligarchic tendencies at shopfloor level: Accountability and recall of
shopstewards
As can be seen from Table 1, 97.5% of respondents had shopstewards at their
workplace. There is little doubt that this office remains an important characteristic of union organisation in South Africa. More than one-third of respondents
(35.9%) had personal experience of an errant shopsteward being relieved of their
office. The most common reasons given were a perceived untrustworthiness
of the incumbent, a failure to deliver on worker demands and/or an inability to
effectively represent worker interests. Moreover, 92.7% of respondents reported
that the shopstewards at their workplace were democratically elected by their
constituents, most commonly by means of a secret ballot.10 Again, there was
generally a high degree of commonality in response to these questions, cutting
across gender, age, skill and educational divides. However, female respondents
were somewhat more uncertain of the method of election (Table 3), while a show
Table 3
Gender by method of electing shopstewards (%)
How were your shopstewards
elected (if elected)?
Gender
Male
Female
Total
Show
of hands
Secret
ballot
42.3
43.2
42.6
53.6
43.7
50.6
Don’t know/
Total
can’t remember
4.1
13.2
6.8
100
100
100
Notes: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1. χ2 = 18.867; d.f. = 2; s = 0.00; n = 634.
Table 4
Education by method of electing shopstewards (%)
How were your shopstewards
elected (if elected)?
Highest educational level
2 years
Never
Don’t know
4.9
2.6
4.2
20.2
20.0
20.0
24.4
18.9
22.8
26.9
29.5
27.7
14.6
8.4
12.7
5.6
12.6
7.7
3.4
7.9
4.7
Notes: All figures have been rounded off to the nearest 0.1. χ2 = 22.043; d.f. = 6; s = 0.01; n = 639.
S O L I D A R I T Y, R E P R E S E N TAT I V I T Y
Gender
Male
Female
Total