For a book on industrial relations, Ben Schneiders’ Hard Labour is a good read – interesting, passionate, depressing and hopeful in equal measure. Based on investigative journalism done for the Age newspaper, it traces the rise and exposure of wage theft in Australia over the last 10 years.

I am not sure Schneiders ever gives a formal definition of wage theft, but the book is concerned with workers being paid at rates below the legal minimum or award wages. Many of the examples are familiar (including from Schneiders own reporting): Spotless laundry, McDonald’s, Coles, 7-Eleven, Woolworths, a series of high-end restaurants, and piece-work on farms and in the gig economy. That is the depressing part, but what is interesting is the different models of underpayment and wage theft.

Three Types of Wage Theft

The most straight-forward was unpaid work hours forced on workers by bosses threatening visas, or by industry norms or by the star-power of the workplace. Celebrity chefs and fancy restaurants were Schneiders’ case studies for the later – made even more egregious in some cases by corporate structures which evaded tax as well as industrial relations responsibility. But such unpaid work is also a norm in industries not considered in the book: for instance, for young academics and young lawyers needing to work their way into a decreasing number of secure jobs.

Beyond this enforced free labour, the book also details cases where the standard piece-rates of fruit-pickers, farm workers, delivery drivers and task workers in the gig economy are set so low that it is impossible to make the minimum wage. This is a long-stranding problem, but the stories of successful new union organising among migrant workers in farms on Melbourne’s periphery was one of the most hopeful parts of the book.

Perhaps the most outrageous form of wage theft was hidden in plain sight: workplace agreements which traded away penalty rates and left workers earning less than the award wage. These were negotiated with the union and were rubber-stamped by the Fair Work Commission. The book covers cases with supermarket and fast-food giants effectively sidestepping the “better-off-overall test” (although eventually many of these agreements were voided after legal challenges). Ever-present here was the union, the SDA, which not only failed to protect low paid members, but actively colluded in the negotiation of these (ultimately) illegal workplace agreements – sometimes in the context of cosy closed-shop recruitment schemes.

That matters not just for the workers affected, but for the future of unionism. In one of his most chilling observations, Schneiders notes that in 2020 only about 5% of young workers were members of unions. The rest were rarely exposed to unions, indeed barely knew they existed – or perhaps their first or only experience was with a union that had sold them out. And their remedies appeared to lie outside of union structures (in local organising, in media, or in government watchdogs). It is not a pretty picture for unionism, notwithstanding that some of the heroes in the book are organisers in other unions.

The Bigger Picture

Many of the stories of wage theft in Hard Labour are well known and have been documented by media, Senate Inquiries, and finally in Fair Work Commission findings. But the book is much more than a series of stories lifted from old reporting. It also gives us the background to the media stories (i.e. the campaign organising), the reaction to publication and the industry push-back, and the development of the issue as it unfolded over the last decade.

That story is interesting, but for me the power of the book lies in the broader context. While he says it is not a book of economic or political theory, Schneiders nonetheless puts the story of wage theft in the context of neoliberalism: the choices made to deregulate the economy and to curtail union and worker rights. In this context, wage theft is not a coincidence, nor the work of a few rogue companies. It is a manifestation of a fundamental shift in power in favour of (global) capital. For Schneiders, wage theft is ultimately not an industrial relations story, but a story of power and inequality – and I am not going to argue with a framing that starts with Thomas Piketty and the statistics on rising inequality and the accumulation of wealth and income at the top end.

The point of Hard Labour is that wage theft is both a manifestation of and a contributor to that disproportionate rise of capital incomes and inequality.

Yet despite everything, there is some hope in the book with cases where wage theft was addressed and wages paid out. Perhaps the “golden age” of wage theft is over – or perhaps (as I hinted above) we simply await another series of reports from different firms and different industries?

Time, and further activism, will tell.

Sidenote

Underlying my reading of the book was of our research at SACOSS on waged poverty. One in four Australian households below the poverty line have wages as their main source of income – and that that employment adds costs to already impossible household budgets. Not every worker below the poverty line will suffer wage theft, but many live in the same milieu of precarious work, and wage theft is inevitably part of the story of waged poverty.

Hard Labour is another reminder that (as I argued in my previous post) poverty and inequality need to be tackled in the primary distribution between wages and capital, not just in after-the-fact welfare redistributions.