United we are in a more powerful position
In the shadow of General Motors' most profitable assembly lines, a quiet betrayal is unfolding — one measured in truckloads of axles and the silence of union officials who might otherwise stop them. While a thousand American Axle workers have stood on picket lines since May 31, earning wages that have never recovered from cuts imposed nearly two decades ago, their union counterparts at Flint Assembly continue building trucks at full capacity, their leadership citing legal constraints while encouraging workers to pocket the overtime. The episode reveals not merely a labor dispute but a deeper fracture in the architecture of American unionism — between the bureaucratic apparatus that manages labor peace and the rank-and-file workers who still believe solidarity means something.
- Seven truckloads of axles arrive at Flint Assembly every day from a struck facility, keeping GM's most profitable truck line running at full capacity while 1,000 workers picket 130 miles away.
- UAW Local 598's Shop Chairman dismisses worker outrage over handling struck parts, invoking federal labor law and telling workers to enjoy their overtime — the same legal cover he used during a 2023 battery strike.
- At the American Axle picket line, the human cost is visible: workers living in vans in the parking lot, unable to afford $2,000 monthly rent, earning wages that were slashed from $29 to $14.50 an hour in 2008 and have never fully recovered.
- Nexteer workers in Saginaw voted 86 percent to authorize a strike but have been blocked by their local and the international union, which has now pushed four tentative agreements after workers rejected three as sellouts.
- Rank-and-file committees are organizing outside the union structure, issuing open letters calling for coordinated strikes across parts suppliers and pointing to just-in-time manufacturing as the pressure point that could bring the entire industry to a halt.
Every few hours, a semi rolls into General Motors' Flint Assembly plant carrying axles from a facility that has been on strike since May 31. The plant runs six days a week, producing more than 380 trucks per shift. The axles come from American Axle's Three Rivers plant, where 1,000 workers are fighting for wages that have never recovered from the concessions of 2008, when the UAW agreed to slash pay from $29 to $14.50 an hour. After a five-year progression, those workers now earn $22 an hour — while some live in vans in the parking lot because they cannot afford local rent.
The trucks keep arriving because UAW officials at Flint are allowing them to. Shop Chairman Eric Welter acknowledged the situation with resigned pragmatism, noting GM had stockpiled roughly two weeks of axles and suggesting workers enjoy the overtime rather than act in solidarity. He expressed sympathy for the American Axle workers — calling them underpaid for a very long time — while invoking federal hot cargo provisions to justify continued handling of struck parts, the same argument he used during a 2023 battery strike near Toledo.
On the shop floor, the sentiment is sharply different. Workers want to stop production. Nexteer workers in Saginaw, who supply steering components to the same trucks, voted 86 percent to authorize a strike but have been blocked by their local and the international union, which has now pushed a fourth tentative agreement after three were rejected. Dana workers in Fort Wayne similarly rejected a deal offering $20 starting pay with no cost-of-living adjustment.
The fracture runs deep into history. The UAW's deliberate widening of the wage gap between parts and assembly workers — formalized through two-tier structures after 2007 and hardened through the Obama-era restructurings of 2009 — was framed as a competitiveness strategy but functioned to divide worker power. The 1998 sellout of Flint strikes, the Delphi bankruptcy, the 60 percent wage cuts the UAW accepted in 2005: each concession left parts workers more isolated and more vulnerable.
Now, rank-and-file committees are organizing outside the union apparatus entirely. The Nexteer Workers Rank-and-File Committee has issued an open letter to American Axle strikers calling for united action across all parts suppliers, arguing that just-in-time manufacturing makes the industry acutely vulnerable to coordinated stoppages. Their demands are concrete: refuse struck parts, establish wage parity, abolish tier and progression systems, and build direct communication structures that bypass union leadership. The question is whether that organizing can move fast enough to matter while the trucks keep rolling into Flint.
Seven truckloads of axles arrive at General Motors' Flint Assembly plant every day, pulled by semis that roll in every couple of hours, full and on time. The plant runs at full capacity, six days a week, producing more than 380 trucks per shift. The axles come from American Axle's facility in Three Rivers, Michigan—a plant that has been on strike since May 31, where 1,000 workers are fighting for better wages after decades of concessions left them earning $22 an hour after a five-year progression.
The trucks keep coming because UAW officials at Flint Assembly are allowing them to come. This fact, reported by the Detroit Free Press in early June, has created a rupture between the union leadership and the workers on the shop floor. The Flint workers want to support their counterparts 130 miles away on the picket line. Instead, they are being asked to build inventory for one of the company's most profitable product lines while their union permits the flow of parts from a struck facility.
Eric Welter, the Shop Chairman at Local 598, acknowledged the situation with a kind of resigned pragmatism. He told the newspaper that GM had stockpiled about two weeks' worth of axles, which made sense given the steady stream of deliveries. "We bring in trucks all day long, every couple hours to supply the line," he said. When workers raised concerns about handling parts from a struck plant, Welter dismissed the anger and suggested they enjoy the overtime pay while it lasted. He also offered sympathetic words about the American Axle workers—"These workers have been underpaid a very long time"—while doing nothing to stop the flow of their product into Flint.
This contradiction sits at the heart of the conflict. The UAW bureaucracy, led by President Shawn Fain, has prioritized GM's financial interests over solidarity with parts workers. The company faces a choice: if the axles stop arriving, the Flint line shuts down within days. Instead, the line runs at full tilt, and the strike at American Axle remains isolated. The union has invoked federal labor law—the National Labor Relations Act's "hot cargo" provisions—to justify the continued handling of struck parts. This is the same argument Welter used during the 2023 Clarios battery strike near Toledo, claiming the batteries were "pre-strike inventory" and that federal law required their continued use.
On the shop floor at Flint, the sentiment is different. One worker told the World Socialist Web Site that the moment demanded coordinated action: "Workers at Flint Assembly and Nexteer should stop production and join the strike of American Axle workers. United we are in a more powerful position." Nexteer, located 36 miles away in Saginaw, supplies steering components to the same trucks. Its workers voted 86 percent to authorize a strike but have been blocked by Local 699 and the international union, which extended the previous contract and are now pushing a fourth tentative agreement after workers rejected three earlier sellout deals.
The anger extends beyond Flint. A worker who visited the American Axle picket line posted on Local 598's Facebook page about the conditions there: management and replacement workers producing 100 axles a day, security stationed at each of six gates, workers living in vans in the parking lot because they cannot afford the $2,000 monthly rent for a cheap apartment. The post ended with gratitude for the donations and time Flint workers had contributed. When a young part-time worker posted a message calling for a strike at Flint to improve conditions for temporary workers, Welter responded flatly: "We cannot strike in the middle of an agreement."
The history behind this moment stretches back decades. In 2008, the UAW shut down an 87-day American Axle strike and agreed to slash wages from $29 to $14.50 an hour. Two-tier wage structures, first imposed at the Big Three in 2007, hardened after the 2009 Obama-backed restructuring of GM and Chrysler. The UAW had deliberately widened the wage gap between parts and assembly workers as part of its "labor-management partnership," a policy meant to boost the competitiveness of the automakers but that ultimately weakened all workers. The spinoff of Delphi—which became Nexteer—followed the 1998 sellout of strikes at GM's Flint Metal Center and Delphi East plants. When Delphi declared bankruptcy in 2005, the UAW accepted 60 percent wage cuts.
But the rank-and-file is organizing independently of the union apparatus. The Nexteer Workers Rank-and-File Committee has issued an open letter to American Axle strikers calling for united action across all parts suppliers. "A common strike across parts suppliers would bring the whole industry to its knees," the letter states, pointing to the vulnerability of just-in-time manufacturing. Workers at Bridgewater Interiors in Warren, Michigan, rejected a UAW-backed deal, and Dana workers in Fort Wayne, Indiana, overwhelmingly rejected an agreement that offered starting pay of $20 an hour and a top-out of $25 after four years—with no cost-of-living adjustment. The letter calls for concrete measures: refusal to handle parts from struck facilities, united action by assembly and parts workers, wage parity across the industry, and the abolition of the tier and progression systems that have fractured worker power. The way forward, organizers argue, is through rank-and-file committees independent of the union bureaucracy, establishing direct communication and coordinated action based on workers' needs rather than what management or union leadership deems acceptable.
Citas Notables
Workers at Flint Assembly and Nexteer should stop production and join the strike of American Axle workers. United we are in a more powerful position.— Flint Assembly worker
A common strike across parts suppliers would bring the whole industry to its knees. Just-in-time delivery means assembly lines run dry within days.— Nexteer Workers Rank-and-File Committee open letter
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does it matter that GM gets those seven truckloads a day? Why not just let the company manage its own supply chain?
Because the strike only works if it actually stops production. If parts keep flowing, the strike is broken in practice even if it's technically still happening. The American Axle workers are sacrificing wages and risking their jobs, but GM just builds inventory and waits them out.
But the union says federal law requires them to handle the parts. Isn't that a real constraint?
It's real, but it's also a choice. The union could fight that law, could refuse on principle, could use the legal argument as a starting point for negotiation rather than an endpoint. Instead, they cite it as if it's a wall they can't climb. Meanwhile, workers at a Mexican GM plant refused overtime on the same trucks in 2019—they took the risk.
What do the Flint workers actually want?
They want to stop building trucks made with parts from a struck plant. They want to join the strike themselves, or at least refuse to cross the picket line in the form of accepting the parts. They see their own future in what's happening to American Axle workers—wages that can't cover rent, concessions piling up year after year.
Is this about wages or about solidarity?
It's both, inseparable. The wage cuts at American Axle happened because the UAW allowed them. The two-tier system exists because the union negotiated it. So when Flint workers see American Axle workers living in vans, they're seeing what the union's strategy produces. Solidarity is the only way to reverse it.
What's the rank-and-file committee trying to do differently?
They're organizing outside the union structure, directly between workers at different plants. They're saying: don't wait for permission from leadership. Share information, coordinate action, refuse to handle struck parts, strike together. Just-in-time manufacturing means the whole system collapses if enough plants stop at once.
Can they actually pull that off?
That's the open question. The union has enormous institutional power. But the rejection of deals at Dana, Nexteer, Bridgewater—that's a sign the rank-and-file is done waiting. If those committees can link up and move together, yes, they could force the industry's hand.