Part I
Don’t rush to bring out the sacred tablet of the working class.
Let’s calm down and ask a question. Suppose you sign a contract with an employer: you work 30 days a month for $5,000.
Halfway through, you feel it’s not worth it and want $6,000.
At that point, should you negotiate properly with the employer, and if that fails, go to court? Or should you rush into the street, block the factory gate, prevent other workers from entering, and force the employer to pay $6,000? Anyone with basic sense knows that’s a breach of contract.
That’s being unreasonable.
That’s coercion.
But something strange happens.
When a group of workers—ten, a hundred, a thousand—do this together, it gets a polished name: the labour movement.
Put a moral cloak over it—what is it called? The right to collective bargaining.
If negotiations fail and blocking escalates, it’s called the right to strike.
There are even laws that specifically protect this kind of “legal” breach of contract.
This is the subject we’re discussing today: trade unions.
Many people treat unions like gods.
As the only hope for workers against capitalists.
But economists roll their eyes and say: spare me.
The essence of a union is a labor cartel.
More plainly, it’s a group of labor monopolists joining together to restrict supply and drive up prices.
What does that resemble? OPEC.
Real estate developers hoarding inventory.
All potato sellers in a market agreeing not to sell below three dollars.
No matter how prettily it’s packaged—fairness, justice, rights—strip it down and there are only four words: monopoly price hikes.
Part II
Let’s start from the root: what is the labor-capital relationship? Forget clichés about class oppression and surplus value.
Think about it simply.
You go to work, the employer pays you, you do the job.
That’s voluntary exchange.
If you think the pay is too low, you can refuse.
If the employer thinks you’re lazy, they can reject you.
Both sides sign a contract protected by law.
If there’s a dispute? Arbitration, courts.
That’s what a normal market looks like.
So the question is: if there are courts and contract law, what are unions for? Their logic is this: if you negotiate wages alone, you’re weak.
The employer has money and options—they can hire someone else.
You? You only have your labour. No work, no food.
So ten or a hundred of you bind together, and the employer can’t easily replace you.
You gain bargaining “power”.
Sounds reasonable, right? But let me ask: what determines wages? Bargaining power, or supply and demand?
If there are 10,000 programmers and only 100 jobs, even if the 100 of you unite and refuse to work unless paid $50,000, does it help? The employer just hires any of the remaining 9,900.
You strike? Fine—people are lining up to replace you.
On the other hand, if you’re a top expert with rare skills that only you possess, you don’t need a union.
You stand in front of the employer and say, raise my pay or I leave, and they immediately beg you to stay.
See the point? Real bargaining power doesn’t come from collective action—it comes from irreplaceability.
What do unions do? They try to use collective force to counter market laws.
They attempt to restrict supply and sell labor above market price.
How do they restrict supply? The most common method: barriers to entry.
Historically in the States, unions excluded Black workers.
Why? More Black workers meant more supply, which lowered wages.
So they had to be kept out.
Is that racial discrimination? Of course.
But to unions, it was “protecting members’ interests.”
Modern methods are more sophisticated.
Doctors’ unions, lawyers’ unions, barbers’ unions.
What do they push for? Strict licensing exams, long training requirements, high fees.
Officially to ensure quality—actually to limit new entrants.
If anyone could open a barbershop, wages wouldn’t rise.
But if the law requires two years and $30,000 for a license, fewer barbers exist, and wages increase.
Who benefits? Established practitioners.
Who loses? New entrants and consumers.
This is what unions do.
Part III
Now, strikes.
What are strikes? Bluntly, a legal unilateral breach of contract.
You signed to work until year-end.
Halfway through, you demand more pay.
The employer refuses.
You don’t go to court; instead, you gather people, block the factory gate, stop deliveries, and prevent others from working.
What is that? Infringement of property rights.
The factory belongs to the owner.
Why can you block it? Materials are theirs—why stop transport? Other workers want to work—why stop them?
In a rule-of-law society, that’s illegal.
But unions say it’s struggle, a last resort.
Take the 19th-century US railway strikes: operations halted, the economy paralyzed.
Then came violence.
Workers smashed machinery, burned railcars; the government sent troops; bloodshed followed.
Who was right? From a market perspective, workers breached contracts first and destroyed property after.
Clearly wrong.
But union logic says: the boss is rich, so he deserves it; workers are poor, so breach is justified.
See the problem? Moral coercion.
Later, the Roosevelt administration passed the Wagner Act, enshrining strike rights in law.
It banned “yellow-dog contracts” and prohibited firing workers during strikes.
What does this mean? The state intervened in labour contracts.
The state handed unions a weapon: you can legally breach contracts, and the employer cannot retaliate.
What is this weapon? Legalized extortion.
You won’t raise wages? Fine—we strike.
Your factory loses $100,000 a day.
A week? Millions.
Which is cheaper—raising wages or enduring losses? Is this negotiation? It’s hostage-taking.
Part IV
What are the social costs of union monopolies? Astonishingly large.
Non-members are sacrificed.
You want to enter the industry? Oh no.
The gate is closed.
You’re pushed into a low-wage secondary market.
How does inequality widen? Like this.
Unions protect a small group of skilled insiders while pushing the majority—unskilled, new, or different—into the bottom.
They also crush businesses.
Look at the American Rust Belt: Detroit, Cleveland, Pittsburgh.
Once prosperous—now declining.
Why? Ask the auto unions.
Every year: higher wages, better benefits, fewer hours, more leave.
Refuse? Strike.
Costs rise, profits shrink.
What happens? Factories relocate—to Mexico, China,etc.
American workers lose jobs.
Unions win battles and bury their own livelihoods.
Is this protecting workers? It’s self-destruction.
Markets become distorted.
Unions favor minimum wage laws.
Is it for the poor? No.
Higher minimum wages kill small firms that can’t pay.
Large firms, already unionized, benefit from reduced competition.
Minimum wages also increase unemployment among low-skilled workers.
If you’re worth 5 but the law says 10, the employer won’t hire you.
The result?
Union members earn more.
Small businesses die.
Low-skilled workers lose jobs.
Consumers pay higher prices.
Everyone pays for a minority’s higher wages.
That’s not redistribution—it’s expropriation.
Part V
The most extreme type of union? Public sector unions.
Why?
Private-sector strikes hurt owners.
Public-sector strikes hurt society.
Government doesn’t produce tradable goods.
Its money comes from taxpayers.
Officials spend others’ money—no pain.
Police strike—crime rises.
Teachers strike—children lose education.
Sanitation workers strike—garbage piles up.
Public unions exploit this vulnerability.
They disrupt services to pressure society.
Want services restored? Raise wages.
Taxpayers pay.
Officials don’t care.
Citizens suffer.
And it gets worse.
Public employees already earn more and have better benefits than private workers.
They’re rarely fired.
Poor teachers? Rarely dismissed.
Inefficient bureaucrats? Rarely cut.
Protected by unions, they enjoy security, high pensions.
Who pays? Private-sector workers.
Is that fairness? No—it’s privilege.
Many US fiscal crises are tied to public unions.
Yearly negotiations, rising wages, expanding pension deficits.
Politicians, seeking votes, borrow to pay.
Eventually governments go bankrupt.
Services decline.
Unions move on to the next politician.
Part VI
Some say: are unions entirely useless? Not entirely.
In places without rule of law—where employers can abuse workers—unions can offer protection.
Where courts don’t function, contracts are meaningless.
But in modern legal systems, are unions necessary?
You can sue.
You can switch jobs.
You can start a business.
Why monopolize? Why coerce? Why burden society?
Marx said clearly: unions aim to eliminate competition among workers.
Exactly.
Eliminating competition—that’s the core.
What’s wrong with competition?
It improves quality, lowers prices, increases efficiency.
It rewards ability and removes incompetence.
It’s the lifeblood of markets.
Unions oppose it.
How are they different from monopolies or privileged elites? They aren’t.
Same nature.
Part VII
Finally, a word to workers.
You may think unions support you.
But your wage, job, and future depend on your value.
If your skills are common, unions may raise wages briefly, but employers will replace you.
If you’re highly skilled, you don’t need unions.
You are your own bargaining power.
Stable work comes from markets, not unions.
Real bargaining power comes from skill and scarcity.
What are unions good at? Creating conflict, inciting resentment, protecting inefficiency, excluding newcomers.
If you want to succeed, rely on yourself.
Improve your skills, seek opportunities, create value.
Your income will rise naturally.
Shouting slogans and blocking gates gains you nothing but anger and obsolescence.
Markets don’t care how loud you shout.
They care how rare you are.
Unions? Leave them in museums.
As exhibits reminding future generations how humans once tried to fight economic laws with force.