The Whyalla Glove Factory Work-In was an episode of workers' control in Whyalla, South Australia from 1972 to 1973.
Background
Twenty women machinists were faced with redundancy by the closure of the factory late in 1972.
Events
They challenged the company’s prerogative to withdraw its operations at will and ten of them occupied the factory. When these women machinists streamed into the manager’s office at the commencement of their sit-in, the manager, J.E. Larven, was clearly shocked. Those involved attest that Larven realized he had lost control of the situation.40
Peter Duncan, a Labor MP, attended this occupation on November 20, 1972, in his role as counsel for the Miscellaneous Workers Union (MWU), which represented the women. He told the South Australian Parliament that Larven “completely lost control of himself and started punching people in all directions…. [He] was a boxing instructor and he evidently decided to use his prowess on the employees.”41 The workers, however, stood their ground—or, rather, sat on it. Barry Cavanagh, MWU South Australian state secretary at the time whose wife’s nose was broken by Larven, recalls:
While the manager, Larven, was going berserk, outside the factory the workers streamed inside…. Larven eventually went and locked himself in his office and made frantic phone calls…. Then the Ship Painters and Dockers arrived with their secretary who had a particularly strong record of militancy and mobilized members to demonstrate solidarity with workers during their sit-in (He was a little bloke, but built like a drop of water upside down)…. Larven had no more authority. In a show of solidarity and material, all of a sudden a procession of Ship Painters and Dockers streamed into the factory through the window later followed by mattresses, guitars, food, T.V. sets, and other amenities to show solidarity and give material support to the workers.42
The next morning, there were hundreds of unionists and onlookers gathered in front of the building. When Larven arrived, he found the pathway to the factory blocked. Police informed him that they would escort him through, but
anything went wrong, they could not guarantee his safety. Larven decided to get back into his car and go home.43 At this point, about a hundred members of the Federated Ship Painters and Dockers Union went out on strike in sympathy, while an ad hoc committee of unionists at the sit-in at the factory announced to the press that, in support of the women machinists, they would attempt to close down all industry in Whyalla.44
This occupation of the Whyalla Glove Factory aligned with the general aims of the MWU, which was committed to militant strategies, including converting sit-ins into workers’ cooperatives.45 The MWU had been moving leftward since the early 1960s, emblematic of the radi-calization of unions occurring during this period. A former Seaman’s Union official observed: “They were becoming far more militant and serious about challenging the bosses and winning, and therefore becoming more disliked… by employers.”46
Employer disdain for unions was echoed in the mainstream press, encouraging the common perceptions of this time that unions were too powerful and heavy-handed. Certainly, the reporting of this occupation in the Adelaide Advertiser focused on the strong record of militancy among workers in the Ship Painters union, implying the violence was all theirs, with captions such as “Whyalla Unionists Invade Factory.”47 In contrast, an editorial in the normally conservative Whyalla newspaper was surprisingly responsive to the extent of local support for the women:
Even the most implacable opponents of direct action on the industrial front can hardly quarrel with the motive behind the latest show of protest by unionists in Whyalla. The sit-in at the James North glove-making factory in Norrie Avenue, started
Gender issues were also at play in other ways. In establishing their cooperative, the women’s aspirations to complete autonomy were not quite fully realized, as they decided to appoint as manager a recently retired foreman, Jim Gettings, for his experience and ability to service the machinery and repair minor breakdowns. The women paid Gettings six times what they themselves earned on average.52 So a form of patriarchal domination, however limited, persisted in the workplace. Gettings did not have the normal managerial prerogatives, in that all decisions affecting the cooperative had to be ratified by the workers. He was “manager” in name only. His occasional attempts to persuade the workers he should have the power to hire and fire without collective approval were consistently denied. Likewise, when he sought more power to discipline workers, it was insisted that all decisions be discussed collectively. The women elected a committee of three to represent them collectively, which had meetings with Gettings to discuss operations on a day-to-day basis. All decisions concerning the cooperative were made with worker consultation, and usually unanimous agreements were reached.53
Clearly, authority relations between shop-floor workers and “management” in the Whyalla Cooperative were not as repressive as those in the capitalist enterprise of James North Glove Factory’s former owner James North. The “surplus control” beyond that necessitated by the cooperative production of use-values, which the capitalist typically assumes, was absent. In the cooperative, such surplus control was eliminated along with the capitalist/owner, and the workers no longer needed to suffer the repressive authority relations as under James North. In principle they could set their own speed of production, rates of pay, conditions, and so on,
without the watchful eye of “the boss.”54 Particularly revealing was the fact that, according to the women, in the cooperative the “manager” often helped with the cutting, after which a worker completed the sewing.55 In contrast, when Gettings was named manager of the new private company, his attitude and manner changed dramatically. He became authoritarian and demanded to be called “Mr. Gettings.” However, none of the women took any notice, and they continued to call him Jim.56
In the Whyalla Cooperative, as at the Sydney Opera House, productivity was improved by cooperative work practices. On the shop floor, there existed collective authority and a commitment to collective production. If an individual worker was not pulling her weight, instead of being reprimanded by an authoritarian manager, the whole group would talk to her and, according to one interviewee, “give encouragement rather than abuse or threats.”57 Interestingly, Gettings conceded there was greater “conscientiousness” in the cooperative; when private ownership resumed, he observed, “They didn’t care. They played up—always going to the toilet, arguing, complaining.”58
Interviews with the women confirm Gettings’s opinion that they worked better and more cheerfully before the reprivatization. Although the existence of a male manager meant that gender inequity diminished somewhat the pleasurable experience of workers’ control, the women all described the atmosphere during the period of the Whyalla Cooperative as cordial and casual. Morale was high. For instance, whenever a production run was completed and the truck arrived to pick up goods for transporting to Adelaide, they would have a small party to celebrate.59
The reason for this contentment was that work practices were refreshingly altered and creative responses encouraged. Diversifying from glove production to other items such as surgical gowns, the ingenuity of the workers was given free rein, and they successfully standardized production as they learned how to make each new item required. The allocation of tasks in the cooperative was very different from that in the private firm. For example, when new attachments arrived for special hemming work, it was assumed that whoever wanted to learn and perform the new operation could do so. If more than one expressed interest, workers would rotate the work, which provided learning opportunities and also breaks from the monotony of repetition.60
Moreover, because the workers on the shop floor were in control, conflicts rarely occurred. Nancy Baines was elected “supervisor” among them, but, as she explained, “You can’t ‘supervise’ people who are their own bosses,” because “you can’t give them orders.” She recalled the role of supervisor became more akin to “organizer and quality control”; she would deliver the materials to each machinist, inspect the work for flaws, and help out when an operator was having problems with the work.61
Interviews with the cooperative members confirm the gratifying nature of the experience: One stated, “In James North I took pride in the gloves which I made but nobody else’s…. In the cooperative I took pride in the whole organisation.”62 For another woman, her involvement in the cooperative spoiled her thereafter for wage labor. She declined to work after private ownership was resumed by Spencer Gulf Clothing, because it was not a cooperative. She said, “I don’t want a bridge between my wages and the product. The company is the middle-man and you can’t see any profit unless it is a cooperative—and therefore, for me, there is no incentive to work for the SGC or any other company.”63