This chapter seeks to explain one element of inequality in Western Europe by focusing on the treatment of immigrant communities. It focuses on how attitudes to immigrants – and conceptions of them within a broader framework of social justice – evolved. One of the ways that the ‘long 1968’ challenged European complacency was to present the cause of immigrants as a cause of social justice. By contrast, today immigrants are often depicted as antithetical to social justice. Many commentators have argued that a fundamental tension exists between ethnic diversity and social equality, and depict mass migration as undermining social justice. But where did such ‘welfare chauvinism’ originate from, and how did these ideas entrench themselves within public discourse? In other words, how did we get from social justice for immigrants to immigrants as the antithesis of social justice? A conventional answer to this question might focus on the loss of confidence of left-wing political projects towards the end of the twentieth century, and the concomitant rise of the radical right. This chapter, however, interrogates tensions within social-justice discourses of the left and centre-left, paying attention to emancipatory and exclusionary aspects, and drawing links between the ‘guest worker’ era and the present day.

This chapter seeks to illustrate from the bottom up the role that social justice played in establishing and maintaining authoritarian rule in Czechoslovakia under National Socialism and state socialism. The author investigates how notions of social justice were included in the social practice of both regimes and how the working population responded to these policies. By analysing legal disputes, this chapter explores the critical space between rulers and ruled to assess when and how notions of social justice were articulated in Czechoslovakia. In their opposition to the ‘injustices’ of past governments, such as those wrought by social inequality and economic suffering, both National Socialists and Communists drew on a language of social justice to articulate their own visions of a new order. However, their respective notions of social justice differed radically: from social justice defined in racial terms, typical for New Order movements, to social justice delimited by social class and attained for all members of the ‘socialist working society’. The main difference that emerged from the transition from the Nazi to the post-war Communist regime was a shift from the language of individual rights to a language related to the collective, to society, and to the state.

Chapter 5 turns to an examination of the ties between working-class representatives and constituents, by taking an in-depth look at the relationship between labor unions, political parties, and workers in Argentina and Mexico. We show that the evolution of unions and parties throughout history lead to working-class deputies in Argentina having stronger ties to workers and a better track record of policy representation than working-class deputies in Mexico. Then we leverage an original dataset of working-class representation over time and across states in Argentina and Mexico to show empirically that whereas increases in working-class representation in Argentina are associated with citizens evaluating their representative institutions more positively, the increased presence of working-class legislators in Mexico leads to backlash and more negative evaluations of legislatures and political parties.

If a firm is a nexus of contracts, then it is just the sum of its counterparties. It follows that when a firm monopolizes a particular market and exploits its power to impose unfavourable terms on a counterparty, the firm necessarily exploits one counterparty for the benefit of another, because the additional profits the firm generates from the unfavourable terms must be paid out eventually to some other counterparty of the firm. One alternative to attacking monopoly power through breakup of large firms or limits on anticompetitive conduct in the marketplace is therefore to prevent any one counterparty of the firm from so dominating firm governance as to be able to induce the firm to oppress other counterparties for its benefit. Creating a balance of power in firm governance, by giving each class of counterparties (i.e., workers, suppliers, investors, and consumers) an equal say over the choice of board members, would eliminate the internal forces that induce firms to exercise monopoly power. But it would not prevent firms from engaging in productive, pie-expanding, behaviour, because such behaviour tends to expand the business that the firm does with all of its counterparties—or at least enables the firm to use a share of the gains to compensate those counterparties that lose out—and therefore benefits them all.

Volume 2 of The Cambridge History of Global Migrations presents an authoritative overview of the various continuities and changes in migration and globalization from the 1800s to the present day. Despite revolutionary changes in communication technologies, the growing accessibility of long-distance travel, and globalization across major economies, the rise of nation-states empowered immigration regulation and bureaucratic capacities for enforcement that curtailed migration. One major theme worldwide across the post-1800 centuries was the differentiation between “skilled” and “unskilled” workers, often considered through a racialized lens; it emerged as the primary divide between greater rights of immigration and citizenship for the former, and confinement to temporary or unauthorized migrant status for the latter. Through thirty-one chapters, this volume further evaluates the long global history of migration; and it shows that despite the increased disciplinary systems, the primacy of migration remains and continues to shape political, economic, and social landscapes around the world.

The following pages will show that the activity of the PPO in industrial enterprises tended to institutionalise the ideological dimension of party policy, transcribing its most radical elements onto the pattern of factory politics. The upshot was that subsequent recalibrations of industrial policy favouring technocratic management were undermined by the very fact of the Party’s presence on the factory floor. This grassroots political dynamic became a key element of the industrial relations forged during the FYP, forming the basis of a pugnacious political culture that would define rank-and-file activism for the duration of the period examined in this study.

It’s easy to assume that all businesses (of any scale at least) are corporations, and that all corporations are run the same. They have executive leadership, boards of directors, and their overriding aim is to make profit for their investors. This is how most large corporations are organized and operate; and you could be forgiven for assuming that this is just the way things work. That said, close readers of this volume have likely intuited that this way of running a business is in fact historically specific, and owes a lot to neoliberal ideas about how a business and how society should work (hierarchically, with a minimum of democracy, and all organized to generate profits and reward shareholder owners). Here, Wood and Palladino take these assumptions apart by illustrating all the different way that other people (even workers!) can in fact own and control companies. One simple thing this chapter shows is that in designing a business or organizing a company, it doesn’t need to be top-down and oriented toward maximizing shareholder value; but can be oriented toward other values, and these values can be reflected in its organization.

This chapter explores how the spatial segregation of Potsdamer Platz is not a matter of architectural design, but rather a particular social mapping that interrelates with status. Potsdamer Platz is designed to reinforce status hierarchies that separate the upperworld and underworld. Whereas the upperworld is shiny and spacious, the underworld is dark, labyrinthine, cramped and malodorous. These worlds have distinct populations: shoppers, tourists, white-collar workers and wealthy residents above, cleaners and other workers below. The cleaners have access to the upperworld for the purpose of cleaning it, but the people from above cannot enter the underworld. It remains hidden, buried spatially and discursively, making cleaners into an invisible “presence from below.” However, cleaners experience themselves and their place at Potsdamer Platz not just as an invisible presence from below. They are part of a workers’ scene that extends from the corporate underworld to the upperworld. The underworld is also more than a dark and sticky space for them. They turn to it as a place of social encounters, of taking breaks and withdrawing from the gaze of managers and clients alike.

As an introduction to the volume, this chapter begins by reframing the commonly held notion that labor and competition law exist in a kind of natural conflict, both historically and conceptually. It also draws together themes from many of the other ‘framing’ chapters, which largely present issues that cut across jurisdictions and international frameworks. Finally, it puts the geographical coverage of the volume in perspective, highlighting related areas of inquiry yet to be explored.

South African competition law has played a modest role in the arena of labour relations in response to agreements between companies relating to employees’ salaries, terms of compensation, employee benefits, and undertakings not to solicit or hire employees from companies that could be considered to be competitors. By contrast, the South African Constitution affords a comprehensive umbrella of rights protection to workers. These rights have been supplemented by far reaching provisions in a chapter of the Competition Act of 1998 which sets out the regulatory framework for mergers and which through its public interest provisions protect workers who are employed by the merging companies. This chapter examines this interface between these two areas of law. It locates this regulatory framework read as a whole within the context of traditional forms of employment .In turn this prompts an examination the question of the role of competition law in response to the changing nature of work which falls outside the scope of the constitutionally protected area of labour relations. In turn this raises questions about competition law and the regulation of these new forms of labour relations.

In most societies, many groups and individuals rely on places beyond the scope of the household to live and enjoy their rights, including their rights to water and sanitation. These groups include persons in penal institutions and detention centres, health care professionals and patients who spend long periods in hospitals and health centres, students in boarding schools and workers who are required to spend considerable lengths of time in open workplaces. They also include people who reside in those spheres because of homelessness, people living in poverty who may lack access to water and sanitation in or near their homes and people who work formally or informally in the public spaces of urban areas. More broadly, they include the general public who commute daily.

This chapter analyses the move of historians away from text and towards the interpretation of visuals. Starting with art history’s turn to the social and the cultural, it traces the interest of historians for an ever wider group of images, including popular images. It also highlights the emergence of perspectivalism and transdisciplinarity in the field of visual history. The main bulk of the chapter is taken up with presenting a range of examples showing how the visual turn in historical writing has contributed to deconstructing national identites, class identities and racial/ethnic identities. Ranging widely across different parts of the globe it also discusses the deconstruction of religious and gender identities through visual histories that have in total contributed much towards a much higher self-reflexivity among historians when it comes to the construction of collective identities through historical writing.

The definition of labor rights for Korean workers has changed since the 1980s along with the neoliberal transformation of the economy. While workers demanded humane treatment and the right to form autonomous labor unions in the earlier period, labor rights in present day Korea are anchored on workers’ status recognition and the right to secure employment. Also, the methods through which workers press for their rights have shifted from union-based collective action to symbolic and extreme forms of protest. This chapter examines the changing notion of labor rights by investigating how structural conditions in the labor market generate workers’ primary grievances, how these grievances enlighten workers’ rights consciousness, and how workers’ interactions with employers and state institutions, including via labor laws, shaped the core claims of labor rights in the 1980s and the 2000s, respectively. It also compares the forms of collective action that workers take to assert their rights in these two periods.

This chapter explores the relationship between labor activism along global supply chains and labor politics in China. In particular, it investigates the extent to which Chinese workers have been involved in transnational labor networks, and the nature of their involvement. To date there is no systematic documentation of Chinese labor involvement in transnational campaigns, let alone campaigns specifically involving supply chains, in part because the repression of workers and activists by the authoritarian state presents challenges for empirical research. Nevertheless, this chapter offers an original analysis of five global union federations’ inclusion of Chinese labor in their transnational activities. The analysis reveals three categories of global unions’ engagement with Chinese workers or companies: (1) direct cooperation with Chinese workers, (2) solidarity actions on behalf of Chinese workers, and (3) campaigns on behalf of non-Chinese workers employed by Chinese companies. These findings provide a starting point that can inform future research on the relationship between global supply chains, transnational labor alliances, and the politics of workers’ rights in China.

The previous chapter showed how the Solidarity Movement sought to declass its trade union past in favour of a historical and ideological narrative emphasising Afrikaner cultural unity and the politics of race. Yet profoundly classist attitudes, stereotypes, and prejudice, which contradicted the Movement’s official framing, persisted among its leadership. This chapter uncovers these sub-narratives. It argues that they reveal the discursive labour and strategic contradictions deployed by the Movement’s executives to manage the working-class roots of their organisation and reformulate working-class identity in such a manner as to serve the new social alliance their Movement represents, and to use it as a vehicle for advancing ethnic and racial interests in the wake of the demise of the racial state. This included the leadership’s deployment of class distinctions in terms of education, respectability, political attitudes, and morality to legitimise their own position and agenda. These findings attest to the persistent presence of deep class-based prejudice and tensions within the white population, begging a revision of existing scholarship on post-apartheid Afrikaner identity construction and homogeneous white subjectivities.