The union apparatus does not represent them—it functions as an enforcement arm of management.
In Three Rivers, Michigan, a thousand workers walked off the job at an American Axle plant — the first strike there in eighteen years — not as an act of rebellion born of sudden crisis, but as the culmination of a long, quiet dispossession. Since 2008, wages have been cut nearly in half in real terms while executive compensation soared into the hundreds of millions, and workers building axles for some of America's most profitable trucks have done so without pensions, without paid sick time, and sometimes without stable housing. The strike raises a question older than any contract: when the institution meant to protect workers becomes the mechanism of their containment, where does the struggle go next?
- Workers who once earned $29 an hour now top out at $22 after five years — a wage that, adjusted for inflation, represents roughly half their predecessors' purchasing power, while the CEO collected $111 million over the same period.
- At Nexteer Automotive nearby, workers voted 86% to strike and rejected three contracts, yet the UAW has repeatedly extended their agreement without a vote, keeping a potential industry-wide choke point quiet and contained.
- Union officials are accused of coordinating with management to stockpile parts before the strike, suppressing rank-and-file organizing, and preparing settlements designed to be announced at the UAW Constitutional Convention as political trophies.
- The revolt is spreading — workers at Dana, Magna, Bridgewater, and Allison have all voted to strike, and in South Africa, Dana Spicer Axle workers have already walked out, signaling that the discontent is crossing national borders.
- Rank-and-file committees are forming outside the union structure, seeking to link plants directly, coordinate action internationally, and break what organizers describe as the bureaucratic apparatus functioning as a labor police force for management.
On a Monday morning in early June, a thousand workers at American Axle's Three Rivers, Michigan plant walked off the job — the first strike there since 2008. The intervening eighteen years had not been peace so much as managed decline. When the UAW settled that earlier strike, it negotiated wages down to $14.50 an hour. Today, workers top out at $22 after five years — which sounds like recovery until inflation is factored in. In real terms, they earn roughly half what their predecessors did. The company, now operating as Dauch Corporation, has closed its Detroit and Buffalo facilities and cut its workforce in half. CEO Richard Dauch collected $111 million in compensation over this period; the top five executives took home nearly $231 million combined. Workers building axles for GM's Silverado and Sierra trucks — components in some of the most profitable vehicles in America — have no pensions and no paid sick time. Some sleep in their cars. Others bike to work.
The strike was framed as a push for wage parity with Big Three assembly workers, who can earn up to $39 an hour, and as a defense against automation. But the weeks before the walkout revealed something more troubling. Workers report that management stockpiled parts in advance, allegedly with union cooperation. The strike was announced by UAW President Shawn Fain on a Sunday night, only after a 98% authorization vote — suggesting the union was responding to pressure from below rather than leading with conviction.
Less than 200 miles away in Saginaw, Nexteer Automotive workers have rejected three tentative agreements and voted 86% to strike. The UAW has responded by extending their contract repeatedly without a membership vote. Labor organizers say the reason is strategic: Nexteer is a supply chain choke point for the Big Three, and a coordinated strike there alongside American Axle and other parts plants would cascade rapidly through assembly operations — a prospect that, they argue, frightens union leadership as much as it does corporate management.
The pattern is visible across the industry. At Dana, the UAW ignored a massive strike authorization, imposed a one-week extension, and announced a settlement without returning to members. With the UAW Constitutional Convention opening June 15, the union appears to be engineering a limited, containable strike at American Axle — one it can settle quickly and present as a victory. The top 15 UAW officials collected $3.2 million in 2024. A servicing representative responded to Nexteer workers' contract rejection by cursing them and threatening plant closure. Fain's chief negotiator convened sessions to train local officials to identify and suppress rank-and-file organizing before it could take hold.
What is emerging in response is a movement that seeks to route around the union apparatus entirely. Organizers with the International Workers Alliance of Rank-and-File Committees are building shop-floor committees controlled directly by workers, designed to communicate across plants and coordinate action without institutional intermediaries. American Axle's parent operates in at least 16 countries; workers at Dana Spicer Axle in South Africa have already struck against job cuts and union collusion; workers in Mexico have shown willingness to resist speedup demands despite retaliation. The question taking shape is whether the current revolt will be isolated and absorbed — or whether it will become what organizers believe it can be: a unified, international movement that the bureaucratic apparatus cannot contain.
On a Monday morning in early June, a thousand workers at American Axle's plant in Three Rivers, Michigan, walked off the job. It was the first strike at the facility since 2008—eighteen years of labor peace, if you can call it that. The workers, members of UAW Local 2093, were fighting for something that should have been obvious: the ability to afford a life.
The numbers tell the story of a slow strangulation. In 2008, experienced workers at the plant earned roughly $29 an hour. When the UAW ended an 87-day strike that year, it negotiated wage cuts down to $14.50. Today, after five years on the job, workers top out at about $22 an hour—which sounds like progress until you account for inflation. In real terms, they're making roughly half what their predecessors did. The company, rebranded as Dauch Corporation under CEO Richard Dauch, has since closed plants in Detroit and the Buffalo area, leaving Three Rivers as the last major unionized facility. Management also slashed the workforce in half.
Meanwhile, Dauch himself collected $111 million in compensation over this period. The company's top five executives took home nearly $231 million combined. Over the last decade, American Axle extracted $8.4 billion in profits from workers producing around 800 axles daily—components for high-margin vehicles like General Motors' Silverado and Sierra trucks. The workers building these parts have no pensions and no paid sick time. The UAW's own acknowledgment is damning: some workers sleep in their cars. Others live in motels or bike to work because they cannot afford the vehicles they manufacture.
The strike was supposed to be about winning wage parity with Big Three assembly workers, who can earn up to $39 an hour. It was also about defending jobs as the company moves toward automation and robotics. But what happened in the weeks before the walkout reveals something darker about the union apparatus itself. Workers report that management stockpiled parts in advance—with what they describe as the connivance of the union. The strike was announced by UAW President Shawn Fain on a Sunday night, called only after workers voted 98 percent to authorize action. The timing suggests the union was responding to pressure from below, not leading from conviction.
Less than 200 miles away, at Nexteer Automotive in Saginaw, a different picture emerges. Workers there have rejected three tentative agreements and voted 86 percent in favor of striking. Yet the UAW has extended their contract repeatedly without putting new terms to a vote, keeping them on the job despite their clear mandate for action. Workers at Nexteer are asking the obvious question: Why are we still working while American Axle is out? The answer, according to labor organizers and rank-and-file activists, is that the union bureaucracy is deliberately isolating struggles to prevent them from becoming coordinated and powerful. Nexteer is a choke point for the Big Three—a strike there, especially linked with American Axle and other parts plants, would rapidly cascade through assembly operations. That prospect terrifies both corporations and union leadership.
The pattern repeats across the industry. Thousands of workers at Dana, Magna International, Bridgewater Interiors, and Allison Off-Highway have voted to strike. The UAW ignored a massive strike authorization at Dana, imposed a one-week extension, then announced a settlement without returning to the membership. With the UAW Constitutional Convention beginning June 15, the union apparatus appears to be operating with calculated cynicism: call a limited strike at one plant, negotiate a quick settlement however inadequate, and claim victory at the convention.
The union's own leadership structure reveals the conflict of interest. The top 15 UAW officials collected $3.2 million in 2024. Shawn Fain himself earned $274,407. A servicing representative named Jason Tuck, paid $148,476 annually, responded to Nexteer workers' rejection of a contract by cursing them, threatening plant closure, and storming out of a membership meeting. Meanwhile, Richard Boyer, Fain's chief negotiator and the architect of the 2023 "Stand Up" agreement that workers now view as a sellout, convened special sessions to train local officials to identify and suppress signs of rank-and-file dissent before it could organize.
The struggle at American Axle and Nexteer points toward something larger. Workers are beginning to recognize that the union apparatus does not represent them—it functions as an enforcement arm of management, a labor police force whose salaries and perks depend on keeping workers compliant. The only path forward, according to organizers with the International Workers Alliance of Rank-and-File Committees, is the formation of shop-floor committees controlled directly by workers, with no intermediaries. These committees would establish direct communication between plants, coordinate action across facilities, and build the organized power necessary for collective victory. American Axle's parent company operates across at least 16 countries, employing tens of thousands. Workers in South Africa at Dana Spicer Axle have already walked out against job cuts and union collusion. The framework for victory, organizers argue, requires breaking the nationalist boundaries enforced by unions and uniting workers internationally—particularly with workers in Mexico, where American Axle operates and where workers at GM's Silao complex have shown willingness to defy retaliation and reject speedup demands. The question now is whether the rank-and-file revolt will remain isolated and contained, or whether it will break through the bureaucratic apparatus and become what it has the potential to be: a unified, international movement.
Notable Quotes
Workers report sleeping in cars, living in motels, or biking to work because they cannot afford the vehicles they build parts for.— UAW acknowledgment cited in labor organizing documents
Why are we still working while American Axle is out?— Nexteer workers questioning union strategy
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why did the union call a strike at American Axle but not at Nexteer, when Nexteer workers voted even more decisively to strike?
Because Nexteer is a choke point. If Nexteer walks out, the Big Three assembly lines stop within days. That's exactly what the union leadership fears—not because they're afraid of losing, but because they can't control it.
Can't control what?
A coordinated, plant-to-plant uprising. The union's power depends on being the intermediary between workers and management. A rank-and-file movement that bypasses them threatens that entire arrangement.
So the union is deliberately sabotaging its own members?
Not sabotaging—managing. There's a difference. They're keeping the struggle small enough to negotiate away quickly, then claiming victory at their convention. It's a performance.
What do the workers want instead?
Shop-floor committees that answer to workers, not union officials. Direct communication between plants. The ability to coordinate strikes without waiting for permission from people whose salaries depend on keeping them compliant.
Is that realistic? Can workers actually organize that way?
It's already happening. Workers at Nexteer rejected three contracts. Workers at Dana voted to strike. The rank-and-file is moving faster than the bureaucracy can contain. The question is whether they can build structures that survive the union's attempts to isolate and suppress them.
And if they do?
Then you have something the corporations and the union both fear: workers with real power, coordinated across plants and borders, answerable only to each other.