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workers rights
The Future of Work Must Belong to Workers
A call for a new labor Bill of Rights in the age of automation.
Nov 17, 2025
Ask the warehouse worker training her replacement robot if progress feels inevitable.
Automation is not destiny. It is design, and design can be changed.
Internal Amazon documents reveal plans to replace more than half a million warehouse workers with robots by 2033. Executives call it innovation. Investors call it efficiency. The workers who made the company what it is call it what it feels like: erasure disguised as progress.
If Amazon can erase 500,000 jobs without consequence, every company will follow. Walmart is rolling out automated checkout. Target is testing robotic fulfillment. UPS and FedEx are developing delivery drones. Each step is described as modernization, but modernization without accountability becomes abandonment.
If we fail to govern this transition, we will inherit an economy that no longer needs its citizens.
The United States cannot afford another era of abandonment. Since 1979, productivity has risen by more than 80%, while hourly pay for most workers has barely moved. Automation threatens to widen that divide until it defines the economy itself.
Technology is not the enemy. The problem is who it serves. Every robot that replaces a worker transfers income from wages to shareholders. Every algorithm that eliminates a job turns public innovation into private accumulation. The challenge before us is not to resist progress but to govern it.
In this political moment, that may sound impossible. Washington is consumed by austerity and spectacle. The Trump administration’s second term has stripped worker protections, defunded training programs, and rewarded corporations that offshore or automate without oversight. But political cycles end, and public memory lasts. As the country heads toward the 2026 midterms and the 2028 presidential election, progressives have a rare opening to propose something larger than repair. We can build a new social contract for the automated age—a Labor Bill of Rights that reclaims the meaning of work and the purpose of progress.
That contract should rest on three pillars: profit sharing, a national transition fund, and public oversight.
The first pillar is profit sharing for automation gains.
When technology increases productivity, a share of those gains should go to the workers who make that productivity possible. France has required large firms to share profits with employees since 1967. Germany ensures worker representation on corporate boards, which prevents modernization from becoming a zero-sum game between labor and capital.
The United States could enact a federal profit-sharing mandate for companies with more than 250 employees or over $1 billion in annual revenue. When automation reduces a company’s payroll by more than 5% in a given year, that company would distribute at least 5% of its net profits as direct employee bonuses or shares. This could be structured through the tax code as a refundable surtax on undistributed automation profits.
If a company eliminates thousands of jobs to cut costs, it would still owe a share of its gains to the people and places that built its success. The rule would keep disposable income in circulation, prevent automation from collapsing demand, and ensure that the people who make automation possible continue to benefit from it.
The second pillar is a national automation transition fund.
Corporations that profit from replacing human labor should help finance the transition for those affected. The fund would be financed by an automation contribution: a 1-2% levy on the annual revenue of large firms that automate more than 5% of their workforce in any 12-month period. The Department of Labor would administer the fund through three channels.
First, wage insurance would guarantee workers at least 70% of their prior income for up to two years while they retrain or find new employment. Second, community investment grants would go directly to counties or cities experiencing major automation-driven job loss, funding small business development, infrastructure, and public employment programs. Third, an innovation dividend would fund training in fields that cannot easily be automated, such as healthcare, renewable energy, and education.
The fund could be modeled on unemployment insurance, with employer contributions adjusted annually based on automation activity. For example, if Amazon eliminated 500,000 jobs averaging $35,000 annually, a 2% contribution on its revenue—roughly $12 billion per year—would cover retraining, income support, and regional stabilization. This policy would turn automation from a corporate windfall into a shared investment in the country’s future.
The third pillar is public oversight of large-scale automation.
Just as environmental laws require companies to study and disclose the effects of pollution, corporations that plan to replace significant numbers of workers should disclose the social impacts of automation before acting. Any company planning to eliminate more than 250 jobs in a single year through automation should file an automation impact assessment with the Department of Labor.
The coming decade will decide whether automation serves democracy or displaces it.
The report would detail expected job losses, affected regions, and projected cost savings. It would also include a transition plan describing how the company will use part of those savings to fund retraining, relocation assistance, or community support. The Department of Labor would then coordinate with local governments and unions to review the plan, identify gaps, and recommend mitigation measures.
Failure to file or implement such a plan would carry penalties scaled to company size and profits. Repeat offenders could lose access to federal contracts, tax credits, or receive fines proportional to earnings. Transparency alone changes incentives. Once corporations must account for the social cost of their decisions, they begin to consider the communities they affect.
Together, these pillars would reattach innovation to justice. Profit sharing would reconnect wages and productivity. The transition fund would convert private efficiency gains into public stability. Oversight would replace secrecy with accountability.
None of this is radical. It is the next step in the unfinished project of democracy. When Franklin Roosevelt proposed an Economic Bill of Rights in 1944, he named the right to a useful job, to fair wages, to security, and to education as the foundations of freedom. We never completed that work. The next generation of progressives can.
That opportunity will not come from Congress as it stands. It will come from a national movement that links labor, climate, and democracy into one fight for a livable economy. The 2026 midterms will likely mark the beginning of that realignment, as voters look for something larger than a defense against decline. The 2028 election could be the first since the New Deal where a coalition wins not by promising safety, but by promising transformation.
Technology does not determine our future. Politics does. A robot can replace a worker, but it cannot replace the dignity of work or the shared purpose of a nation. If we fail to govern this transition, we will inherit an economy that no longer needs its citizens. If we succeed, we can create one where technology frees people from insecurity, not from income.
The wealth created by automation rests on a foundation built by the public. The internet that powers online retail began as a government project. The logistics networks that deliver goods rely on public roads and ports. The data that trains artificial intelligence is drawn from our collective lives. The returns should flow back into the society that made them possible.
The coming decade will decide whether automation serves democracy or displaces it. Progressives have a rare chance to lead with vision instead of reaction. The task is not to slow innovation but to make it answer to the people. The future of work must belong to workers—and that future begins when we decide that technology will serve humanity, not replace it.
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The Future Is Collective: Structuring Organizations That Reflect Our Values
Workers are reorganizing their workplaces, yes—and they’re also building something more. They’re pushing for deeper, systemic changes that go beyond just wages and benefits. They’re pushing for a culture of fairness, transparency, and collective power.
Oct 25, 2025
As we look to the future, the path forward is clearer than ever. The world of work is shifting, and with it the way we govern ourselves, care for each other, and build organizations. In this new era, our future is collective. The rise of worker-led organization—those where shared leadership and shared responsibility are the backbone of decision-making—is not a mere trend; it’s a transformation in how we understand power and community. The change has already begun, and the seeds planted in collective governance are sprouting in real time.
But for these models to thrive, they need commitment from all sides. It requires those at the top and those coming down from the top to be vocal in their support, to model the behaviors of shared power, and to make space for others to lead. Workers, too, need to lean in, both to do their jobs and to take responsibility for the whole. It’s uncomfortable at times—asking people to take ownership of something that isn’t just theirs but all of ours, and allowing leaders to step back and let others lead. But in this discomfort, growth happens. The challenges are real, but so are the possibilities. When we create spaces where everyone is invited to participate, to have a say, and to lead in their own way, it opens up a whole new world of possibility. It’s not just about fairness or equality; it’s about creating a better, more supportive way of working together. And we’re seeing this already in places like the nonprofit sector, where workers are pushing back against the “do more with less” mentality that has so often dominated our culture, even in social justice spaces.
Workers are reorganizing their workplaces, yes—and they’re also building something more. They’re pushing for deeper, systemic changes that go beyond just wages and benefits. They’re pushing for a culture of fairness, transparency, and collective power. The rise in worker-led governance models in the non-profit sector (along with a renewed surge in public-sector union organizing) is showing us that people are ready to reclaim power, not only in how much they’re paid or what benefits they receive, but in how decisions are made and how they’re treated. Nonprofits especially are looking at their internal structures and realizing that they need to change. It’s a slow, steady process, but it’s happening. Workers are taking control, demanding fair treatment, and saying, “We deserve better—and we can create it.” But as the great thought leader Audre Lorde reminds us, achieving real liberation takes more than a fight against oppression; it requires a thorough deconstruction and rebuilding of the systems that perpetuate it. The challenge here is not only to fix the problems we see but also to dismantle the structures of power that created them in the first place. This is why shifting from a strictly hierarchical, top-down system to one of participatory, collective governance isn’t just about equity and inclusion—it’s about the profound and necessary act of rebuilding how we work, how we lead, and how we treat one another. It’s about justice. We are not simply asking for better conditions within the old systems. We are evolving into something new.
But let’s be real: it’s not going to happen overnight. It takes time—at least three to five years of sustained effort—for real transformation to occur within an organization. And we can’t expect perfection from the start. Transforming how we work, how we lead, and how we make decisions is a long-term investment. It takes time, patience, and a willingness to be uncomfortable. It takes experimenting, making mistakes, learning from them, and trying again. The kind of collective governance we dream of doesn’t happen in one big leap; it happens through incremental progress. We start with small changes, perhaps by creating a new decision-making process in a team, or introducing a regular meeting for everyone to voice their concerns. It’s in the small, intentional shifts that we begin to build something bigger.
This is our generation’s work: to create organizations that are efficient and serve an immediate need while also being holistic and human-centered—organizations where everyone has a voice and every person feels empowered and accountable.
I’ve seen this up close. When I was part of Pangea Legal Services, we took a step toward formalized co-governance, and it was far from easy. At first, I found myself reluctant to relinquish control and let others take the lead, especially when I thought I knew better. I had to learn to trust others, reconcile my ego, lean back, and allow mistakes to happen. But over time we saw how much stronger we became. When leadership was shared and decisions were made collectively, we found new ways of doing things—sometimes better ways than I could have imagined. And the results were there: The year after I left, my colleagues continued to thrive and raised millions of dollars in new, unrestricted funding—an extraordinary achievement for a twenty-person nonprofit, especially after a founder transition. We continually proved to ourselves that this model works, and it was because we made the decision to embrace collective leadership, even when it was hard.
When we look to history for guidance, we can see how seemingly small and thoughtful actions have led to enormous change. In the 1960s, the Black Panther Party launched its Free Breakfast for Children program, not as a temporary fix but as a way to meet basic needs and challenge systemic inequalities. What began as free school breakfasts in local communities eventually inspired state-wide programs and national policies. Meaningful change often starts small—one organization, one community, one movement at a time. If we want to transform the future, we have to start where we are and build from there. We have to live the change we want to see now. We have the power to create the future we envision; the key is to begin practicing it every day in our workplaces, our homes, and our communities.
This is our generation’s work: to create organizations that are efficient and serve an immediate need while also being holistic and human-centered—organizations where everyone has a voice and every person feels empowered and accountable. We will create spaces where workers can lead and decision-making is shared, and we will build systems that reflect our deepest values of care, respect, and justice. This vision is not a distant dream. It’s happening now, and each of us has a role to play.
So where do we begin? There are as many starting points as there are individuals and organizations, but one thing is clear: We begin with values and points of unity. We ground ourselves in shared values, we build relationships, and we create what we can with what we have. We don’t wait for the perfect conditions. And in this practice, in this steady, deliberate work of transforming our workplaces from the inside out, we create a future that reflects our highest aspirations.
Change starts with the choices we make and the values we commit to embodying. Each time we prioritize collaboration over competition, equity over expediency, and care over control, we lay the groundwork for something transformative. As these principles take root in our actions and relationships, the change deepens and expands, offering not just a new way of working but a new way of being together. We may not have all the answers yet, but we have the capacity to shape the future. And that future is collective.
From The Future Is Collective by Niloufar Khonsari, published by North Atlantic Books, copyright © 2025 by Niloufar Khonsari. Reprinted by permission of North Atlantic Books.
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From Fields to Kitchens, the Fight Against Extreme Heat Is a Fight for Workers’ Lives
Worker organizing points the way forward, reminding us that the fight for safe working conditions is inseparable from the fight for dignity, racial justice, and migrant rights.
Oct 13, 2025
As temperatures shattered records across North America this summer, Jeremiah, a greenhouse worker in Ontario’s Seasonal Agricultural Worker program, stepped inside a plastic tunnel where the heat doubled the 32°C (89.6°F) outside. Within hours, workers fainted and vomited, while supervisors worried only about the plants. Another day, Jeremiah himself had to be carried out on a cart after collapsing.
Unwilling to put up with the conditions any longer, Jeremiah and his coworkers came together on one of the season’s worst days to demand managers implement safer conditions. Using broken Spanish, “tu casa, mucho calor,” they signaled to fellow Mexican, Guatemalan, and Honduran workers to walk out in unison, knowing they’re stronger when united.
Jeremiah’s story is not unusual. Across the food chain, from farm fields and greenhouses to warehouses and kitchens, workers are enduring escalating, life-threatening heat. What is new is how boldly they are organizing for change.
I have been an organizer with Justicia for Migrant Workers (J4MW) for 25 years. In that time, I have seen how rising temperatures and more frequent heatwaves have transformed the daily lives of migrant and food system workers. And I have also witnessed something else: workers resisting, demanding protections, and refusing to be sacrificed to profit and climate inaction.
The climate crisis is not some distant threat; it is here, bearing down on workers who already face some of the most exploitative conditions.
Workers themselves are the most credible experts on what is happening. At a 2024 People’s Tribunal hosted by the Food Chain Workers Alliance (FCWA), dozens of testimonies revealed the same pattern: temperatures climbing, employers refusing to adapt, and workers bearing the cost.
Lelo, a farmworker from Washington, remembers when rain was the biggest concern back when he started picking berries in 2012. "When I started picking berries, I didn’t see workers pass out… in 2022 I saw and heard about many."
A farmworker in Florida, with 18 years in the fields, reported temperatures now reaching 105°F (40.5°C) with little protection from managers. "The bosses do not adapt… There are times when they give us water, but when we tell them it's over, they don't give us more.”
Heat dangers are not limited to farm workers. Lorena, a warehouse worker in Illinois, described how tin roofs trap suffocating heat. “Employers could give workers water or 15 minutes every hour to get some fresh air, or reduce the speed of the machines, but they don’t,” she said. “The office managers don’t notice it because they’re comfortable with air conditioning.”
Ingrid, a restaurant worker in New York, spoke about kitchen conditions: “The heat is overwhelming, tiring, and it lasts all day. There’s no time to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water. The only thing we can do is hydrate before we get in and use wet towels on our bodies while we work.”
These are not isolated grievances; they are the lived realities of a workforce that feeds millions while being denied basic safety.
International agencies have started to catch up. The World Health Organization and World Meteorological Organization recently warned that “protecting workers from extreme heat is not just a health imperative but an economic necessity.” Their new report underscores what workers have long said: Productivity drops as temperatures rise, and unchecked exposure leads to kidney disease, heatstroke, and premature death. According to the International Labour Organization, more than 2.4 billion people worldwide are exposed to workplace heat stress. That is nearly1 in every 3 workers on Earth.
Yet policymakers in North America are moving backward. In Ontario, the provincial government promised heat protections in 2023, only to quietly kill them a year later. In the United States, agricultural and construction lobbyists have stalled a federal heat stress law. These retreats are not neutral; they are a direct assault on racialized and immigrant working-class communities, who make up the backbone of the food system.
Faced with government inaction, workers are taking the lead. This summer, on one of the hottest days yet, Ontario farmworkers and allies staged a street protest. They fried eggs on the pavement outside the Ministry of Labour and inside a car that reached 68°C (154.4°F). Their message was unmissable: The conditions we endure at work are deadly. When the minister refused to act, they called it what it was—environmental racism.
Acts of resistance like these are multiplying. Whether walking off the job, holding tribunals, or staging creative protests, workers are asserting that survival should not depend on employer goodwill. They are demanding enforceable regulations: access to shade and water, mandated rest breaks, and the right to stop work in unsafe conditions. And they are insisting that climate justice is part of migrant justice. Because for local workers and seasonal guest workers alike, it's nearly impossible to exert your right to protections when employers can hold the threat of immigration law over your head. That's why we support permanent status for all migrant workers.
This is a fight that stretches across borders and industries. Under guest worker schemes like Canada’s Seasonal Agricultural Worker Program or the US H-2A system, bosses often pit workers of different nationalities against one another. Yet when Jeremiah and his colleagues risked retaliation to walk out together, they showed the power of cross-border solidarity. That spirit echoes in warehouses, restaurants, and processing plants where workers are refusing to be divided by language, status, or immigration papers.
The climate crisis is not some distant threat; it is here, bearing down on workers who already face some of the most exploitative conditions. Governments may drag their feet, but workers are on the move. Their organizing points the way forward, reminding us that the fight for safe working conditions is inseparable from the fight for dignity, racial justice, and migrant rights.
When the heat rises, so do workers. And if we want a food system that is sustainable, just, and resilient in the face of climate change, we must follow their lead.
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