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The Covid-19 crisis has "amplified one of the worst flaws in our society, namely the 'me-first' greed of corporate chieftains," writes Hightower. (Photo: iStock)
As horrible as the COVID-19 crisis is, it has brought out the best in the American people--the selflessness of front-line nurses and doctors, for example, as well as the generous community spirit of local food businesses.
But it has also amplified one of the worst flaws in our society, namely the "me-first" greed of corporate chieftains.
Last year, we were told that a new, more democratic corporate ethic was emerging. The CEOs of 181 big-name giants signed a public pledge to run their corporations not solely to maximize shareholder profits, but also to benefit workers, communities, and other economic "stakeholders."
Then, only five months later, the pandemic hit, profits dropped, and the new magnanimous spirit of togetherness vanished from those corporate board rooms.
Immediately, masses of their workers were punted out the door, health benefits were coldly terminated just when they were needed the most, and the pledge to serve the common good went into the shredder.
Well, retorted such pledge-signers as Arne Sorenson, CEO of the Marriott hotel empire, revenues are drying up, so all promises are negated. In a March video message dispatching most of Marriott's employees, Sorenson cluelessly added this insult to their injury: "I wish you good health and a sense of optimism."
A couple of weeks later, however, workers learned that while Marriott was cutting off their paychecks, it had doled out $160 million to its rich shareholders, a group that includes Sorenson.
In fairness, Sorenson did say he'll forego some of his million-dollar salary this year. But that's a disingenuous show of solidarity, since he also gets around $11 million a year in incentive pay and other compensation.
And, while workers are now consigned to the unemployment line, Sorenson is in line for a 7.7 percent pay hike next year, plus a multimillion-dollar cash bonus.
Goes to show what a pledge from America's CEOs is worth.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
As horrible as the COVID-19 crisis is, it has brought out the best in the American people--the selflessness of front-line nurses and doctors, for example, as well as the generous community spirit of local food businesses.
But it has also amplified one of the worst flaws in our society, namely the "me-first" greed of corporate chieftains.
Last year, we were told that a new, more democratic corporate ethic was emerging. The CEOs of 181 big-name giants signed a public pledge to run their corporations not solely to maximize shareholder profits, but also to benefit workers, communities, and other economic "stakeholders."
Then, only five months later, the pandemic hit, profits dropped, and the new magnanimous spirit of togetherness vanished from those corporate board rooms.
Immediately, masses of their workers were punted out the door, health benefits were coldly terminated just when they were needed the most, and the pledge to serve the common good went into the shredder.
Well, retorted such pledge-signers as Arne Sorenson, CEO of the Marriott hotel empire, revenues are drying up, so all promises are negated. In a March video message dispatching most of Marriott's employees, Sorenson cluelessly added this insult to their injury: "I wish you good health and a sense of optimism."
A couple of weeks later, however, workers learned that while Marriott was cutting off their paychecks, it had doled out $160 million to its rich shareholders, a group that includes Sorenson.
In fairness, Sorenson did say he'll forego some of his million-dollar salary this year. But that's a disingenuous show of solidarity, since he also gets around $11 million a year in incentive pay and other compensation.
And, while workers are now consigned to the unemployment line, Sorenson is in line for a 7.7 percent pay hike next year, plus a multimillion-dollar cash bonus.
Goes to show what a pledge from America's CEOs is worth.
As horrible as the COVID-19 crisis is, it has brought out the best in the American people--the selflessness of front-line nurses and doctors, for example, as well as the generous community spirit of local food businesses.
But it has also amplified one of the worst flaws in our society, namely the "me-first" greed of corporate chieftains.
Last year, we were told that a new, more democratic corporate ethic was emerging. The CEOs of 181 big-name giants signed a public pledge to run their corporations not solely to maximize shareholder profits, but also to benefit workers, communities, and other economic "stakeholders."
Then, only five months later, the pandemic hit, profits dropped, and the new magnanimous spirit of togetherness vanished from those corporate board rooms.
Immediately, masses of their workers were punted out the door, health benefits were coldly terminated just when they were needed the most, and the pledge to serve the common good went into the shredder.
Well, retorted such pledge-signers as Arne Sorenson, CEO of the Marriott hotel empire, revenues are drying up, so all promises are negated. In a March video message dispatching most of Marriott's employees, Sorenson cluelessly added this insult to their injury: "I wish you good health and a sense of optimism."
A couple of weeks later, however, workers learned that while Marriott was cutting off their paychecks, it had doled out $160 million to its rich shareholders, a group that includes Sorenson.
In fairness, Sorenson did say he'll forego some of his million-dollar salary this year. But that's a disingenuous show of solidarity, since he also gets around $11 million a year in incentive pay and other compensation.
And, while workers are now consigned to the unemployment line, Sorenson is in line for a 7.7 percent pay hike next year, plus a multimillion-dollar cash bonus.
Goes to show what a pledge from America's CEOs is worth.