ye cannot be saved in your sins. alma 11:37
Now, it was for the sole purpose to get gain, because they received their wages according to their employ, therefore, they did stir up the people to riotings, and all manner of disturbances and wickedness, that they might have more employ, that they might get money according to the suits which were brought before them; (…)
What did Milton Friedman say about unions
Milton Friedman was generally critical of labor unions, especially when unions gained enough market power to restrict competition in labor markets.
His basic argument was that unions function similarly to a cartel. Just as a cartel of firms can raise prices by limiting supply, a union can raise wages for its members by limiting the supply of labor or restricting entry into a profession. Friedman acknowledged that unions could increase wages for the workers they represented, but he argued that this often came at the expense of other workers, consumers, or unemployed people who were excluded from those jobs.
One of his recurring themes was that unions could not raise wages for all workers indefinitely above the value of what workers produced. In Capitalism and Freedom (1962), he wrote:
“The gains to the workers who are members of unions are generally achieved at the expense of other workers.”
He was particularly critical of government policies that strengthened unions through legal privileges. He opposed laws that compelled employers to bargain collectively, opposed closed shops (where union membership is required for employment), and supported “right-to-work” laws.
At the same time, Friedman did not oppose voluntary association. He repeatedly said that workers have the same right to organize as anyone else. If workers freely choose to form a union and employers freely choose to negotiate with them, he regarded that as part of a free market. His objection was to unions receiving special legal protections or coercive powers from the state.
In Free to Choose (1980), he argued:
“Unions have become one of the major elements in the establishment of wage rates and in reducing opportunities for employment.”
Economists and historians who disagree with Friedman often argue that he underestimated the bargaining power of large employers and the role unions played in raising wages, improving workplace safety, reducing child labor, and building the twentieth-century middle class.
So Friedman’s position can be summarized fairly as:
- Workers have a right to organize voluntarily.
- Unions can raise wages for members.
- Those gains often come at the expense of non-union workers or consumers.
- Government-granted union privileges distort labor markets.
- Competitive labor markets generally produce better outcomes than union-controlled wage setting.
His criticism was not primarily moral but economic: he believed unions reduced overall labor-market efficiency and employment, especially when backed by state power.
Isn’t the idea of a union inherently dependent on a non-functional/unaccommodating economy
That’s a serious line of inquiry, and many thinkers across the political spectrum have asked versions of it.
One way to frame the question is: if a labor market were functioning perfectly—many employers competing for workers, workers free to move jobs, good information, no coercion, no barriers to entry—would unions be necessary at all?
Friedman would largely answer no. In a highly competitive labor market, employers who underpaid workers would lose them to competitors. Wages would tend toward the value of workers’ productivity, and unions would become less necessary because market competition itself would protect workers.
But many labor historians, institutional economists, and labor theorists argue that the conditions Friedman assumes rarely exist in practice. They point to situations where employers possess disproportionate bargaining power because workers need income immediately, jobs are geographically concentrated, information is imperfect, switching jobs is costly, or workers face retaliation for organizing. In that view, unions emerge not because people dislike markets, but because actual labor markets often fall short of the competitive ideal.
John Kenneth Galbraith, for example, described unions as a form of “countervailing power.” Large corporations accumulate economic power; unions arise as an opposing institution capable of negotiating on more equal terms. In that framework, unions are evidence not of market failure alone but of concentrated power elsewhere in the economy.
Karl Marx would push the argument further. For him, unions arise naturally within capitalism because workers sell labor while owners control productive assets. The conflict is structural, not accidental. Even a well-functioning capitalist economy would generate incentives for workers to organize collectively.
Meanwhile, some classical liberals before Friedman viewed unions somewhat differently. Adam Smith observed that employers often have advantages in bargaining because they can survive longer without a deal than workers can survive without wages. Smith noted that employers frequently coordinate informally while worker combinations are more visible and often legally restricted.
So your question can be sharpened into a philosophical one:
Are unions a remedy for economic dysfunction, or are they an inevitable feature of any economy in which labor and capital negotiate from different positions of power?
Friedman leans toward the first answer. Galbraith and many institutional economists lean toward the second. Marx treats them as nearly unavoidable under capitalism itself.
The interesting point is that even critics of unions often implicitly assume that if labor markets became perfectly competitive, unions would lose much of their purpose. In that sense, the very existence and strength of unions can be interpreted as a diagnostic signal: they may indicate that workers perceive individual bargaining as insufficient to protect their interests. The disagreement begins when we ask whether that perception reflects a genuine economic imbalance or merely a mistaken assessment of how markets work.
Also scarcity. Its not just economy but government. It’s like everything is broken. In times of war I can see the strain. But as a model it’s totally bogus
You’re touching on a deeper critique than the usual pro-union versus anti-union debate. You’re questioning whether unions are responding to a specific labor-market problem or whether they are symptoms of a broader social condition: scarcity, institutional failure, and chronic mismanagement.
From that perspective, the existence of unions can look paradoxical. If an economy is genuinely productive, technologically advanced, and capable of generating abundance, why must workers constantly organize to secure basic stability? Why are wages, healthcare, retirement, housing, and job security matters of perpetual struggle rather than ordinary features of a functioning society?
Some critics from both the left and the right have made versions of this argument.
On the left, thinkers like William Morris, some guild socialists, and later critics of bureaucratic capitalism argued that endless labor conflict reveals a deeper dysfunction in the organization of production itself. The union is not the solution; it is evidence that the underlying arrangement remains unresolved.
On the right, some classical liberals and libertarians have argued that many labor conflicts arise because governments distort markets through regulations, subsidies, licensing regimes, monetary policy, barriers to competition, and political favoritism. In that view, unions often become one more interest group competing for advantages within a system already warped by intervention.
There is also a more philosophical criticism: if every major institution requires a counter-institution to restrain it—corporations require unions, unions require regulators, regulators require watchdogs, watchdogs require oversight committees—then one might ask whether the system is operating according to a coherent model at all. Instead of a self-regulating order, it begins to resemble a permanent struggle among competing power centers.
Historically, wartime economies often make this especially visible. During major wars, governments impose controls, rationing, labor boards, production quotas, and emergency measures. Scarcity becomes explicit. Under those conditions, unions often gain influence because allocation is no longer being handled solely through markets. The conflict becomes less about voluntary exchange and more about competing claims on limited resources.
Your statement that “as a model it’s totally bogus” sounds less like an economic claim and more like a systems critique. The question becomes: if a society is productive enough to feed, house, clothe, and employ its population, why are so many institutions devoted to negotiating shortages, insecurities, and conflicts over distribution?
Different traditions answer differently. Marx says the conflict is built into capitalism. Friedman says much of it is created by government intervention. Technocrats often say it reflects imperfect administration. But all three are, in different ways, trying to explain the same observation: a society capable of enormous abundance nevertheless spends much of its energy managing perceived scarcity and competing claims on resources.
Whether that makes the model “bogus” depends on what standard you’re using. If the standard is a social order that naturally harmonizes interests without continual bargaining, coercion, or conflict, then unions can indeed appear less as a solution and more as evidence that the promised harmony has not arrived.
Marx says the conflict is built into capitalism.
Yes. For Marx, conflict between labor and capital is not a temporary flaw, a policy mistake, or a sign that certain people are behaving badly. It is structural.
His starting point is that workers do not own the means of production—factories, land, machinery, capital, and so on. To survive, they must sell their labor power to those who do own those things. The employer, meanwhile, earns profit by paying workers less than the value the workers add through their labor. Marx calls the difference surplus value.
Because of this arrangement, the interests of labor and capital are never fully aligned. Workers generally benefit from higher wages, shorter hours, and better conditions. Employers generally benefit from lower labor costs, longer hours, and higher productivity. Even when both sides cooperate, Marx argues that an underlying tension remains.
In Wage Labour and Capital (1847), he writes:
“The interests of capital and the interests of wage-labour are diametrically opposed.”
And in Capital (1867):
“Capital is dead labour, that, vampire-like, only lives by sucking living labour.”
The dramatic language reflects his view that profit depends on extracting surplus from workers.
Within this framework, unions are not a cure. They are defensive organizations. Marx supported unions because they could improve workers’ immediate conditions, but he did not think they could eliminate the underlying conflict. A union might win higher wages, but the wage system itself remains intact.
He writes in Value, Price and Profit (1865):
“Trades unions work well as centres of resistance against the encroachments of capital.”
But he warns that if unions focus only on wage increases, they are fighting symptoms rather than causes.
What’s interesting is that Marx would likely disagree with your earlier intuition that unions imply a broken economy. He would say the opposite. A strike, a labor dispute, or a union drive is not evidence that capitalism has malfunctioned. It is capitalism functioning exactly as expected. The conflict is not an accident within the model; it is one of the model’s central dynamics.
That’s one reason Marx remains influential. He doesn’t explain labor conflict away. He makes it foundational. The question then becomes whether you find his explanation convincing. If you believe labor and capital can ultimately share the same interests under conditions of abundance, competition, and innovation, then Marx’s premise looks too pessimistic. If you believe conflict persists even in prosperous societies, then his diagnosis starts to look harder to dismiss.
The difference isn’t so much a disagreement but an underlying claim; capitalism purposefully exploits. I am not claiming that. What I am saying is that things have settled into less satisfactory conditions because there is a certain responsibility not being taken and this negligence has been domesticated. According to you, Marx believes the economy is purposefully exploiting workers and that the people behind it are blinded by profit.
That’s an important distinction.
Marx’s argument is often misunderstood as “capitalists are greedy people who intentionally exploit workers.” That’s not quite his position. He does think exploitation occurs, but for him it is primarily structural, not psychological.
A capitalist could be generous, charitable, intelligent, and morally sincere. Marx would still say that the capitalist is compelled by the logic of competition to seek profit, reduce costs, and accumulate capital. If they do not, they risk being outcompeted by others who do. In that sense, the system reproduces exploitation regardless of individual intentions.
So Marx’s claim is stronger than “people are blinded by profit,” but also less personal than that. He is not mainly accusing individuals of moral failure. He is arguing that the economic structure itself generates outcomes that systematically benefit owners of capital relative to workers.
What you’re describing sounds different.
Your concern seems less about exploitation and more about abdicated responsibility. The problem is not that society is intentionally organized to extract value from workers. The problem is that institutions have become accustomed to operating below their potential. Deficiencies that should have been corrected have instead been normalized. Scarcity, inefficiency, bureaucratic inertia, poor planning, misaligned incentives, neglected infrastructure, and institutional complacency become accepted as “just the way things are.”
In that framework, unions are not evidence of deliberate exploitation. They are evidence that ordinary mechanisms of responsibility and accountability have failed to function adequately.
The difference is subtle but significant:
- Marx: conflict arises because the interests of labor and capital are structurally opposed.
- Your view: conflict arises because institutions have tolerated preventable shortcomings and settled into degraded equilibria.
Marx sees antagonism as intrinsic to the system. You seem to be suggesting that antagonism is, at least in part, the result of accumulated negligence.
There are thinkers closer to your position than to Marx. Thorstein Veblen criticized business institutions for prioritizing financial interests over productive efficiency. John Dewey often emphasized social and institutional responsibility rather than class struggle. Even some conservative critics have argued that modern societies suffer from managerial complacency, bureaucratic self-preservation, or a loss of civic responsibility rather than deliberate exploitation.
The question beneath your observation might be:
Are unions necessary because labor and capital are fundamentally at odds, or because the institutions that should coordinate production, distribute gains, and maintain social trust have gradually ceased doing those jobs well?
Marx gives one answer. Your formulation points toward another. It locates the source of the problem less in intentional exploitation and more in the normalization of preventable dysfunction. Under that view, the existence of unions does not prove that exploitation is the foundation of the economy; it may instead indicate that too many actors have accepted conditions that could have been improved but weren’t.
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What’s emerged across the thread is a shift in what “labor conflict” is taken to mean.
One framing—associated with Friedman—treats unions as responses to imperfect market conditions: useful or harmful depending on how competitive the labor market is, but not fundamentally necessary in an ideal system. Another framing—Marx’s—treats unions as expressions of a deeper structural relationship between labor and capital, where conflict is not an accident but a built-in feature of how production is organized.
You then moved the question away from both of these. Instead of assuming either “healthy markets vs distortions” or “built-in class antagonism,” you suggested a third possibility: that much of what looks like structural necessity or economic law may instead reflect accumulated institutional neglect. Not intentional exploitation, and not pure market equilibrium, but a kind of normalized underperformance—where systems that could be more responsive, coordinated, or responsible have settled into less demanding, more rigid, and more conflict-dependent forms.
On that view, unions are neither simply distortions nor revelations of eternal class struggle. They are compensatory structures that arise when ordinary channels of accountability, coordination, and responsiveness are insufficient to the lived reality of work and survival. They stabilize conditions that have become unstable for reasons that are historical, administrative, and institutional—not purely economic in the abstract sense, and not necessarily rooted in intent.
So the underlying disagreement across all positions isn’t really about unions themselves. It’s about what kind of system we think we are looking at:
- a system that would function well if left relatively free (Friedman),
- a system structured around irreducible antagonism (Marx),
- or a system whose present form reflects accumulated drift, neglected responsibility, and normalized constraint rather than optimal design or inherent conflict.
Your final move places weight on the third possibility. And that reframes the question entirely: not “are unions justified?” but “what failures became ordinary enough that unions had to become part of the baseline architecture of stability?”
That’s where the conversation lands: not in choosing a side between market harmony or structural conflict, but in questioning how much of what looks necessary is actually the product of long-term institutional settling.
My diagnosis of this whole issue ultimately rests in an aesthetic register. Not aesthetics in the narrow sense of appearance, but in the deeper sense of form, coherence, and the felt integrity of a world.
At its core, I think the problem is a loss of commitment to beauty understood as proper arrangement—where systems, institutions, and relations should not merely function, but fit. There is a difference between something that works and something that is correctly composed.
People carry within them a capacity to say yes or no to the conditions they inhabit. The extent to which we have collectively said yes to arrangements that should have been abandoned is often described as an ethical failure. And it is that. But even more fundamentally, in the realm of statecraft and institutional life, it is a failure of design.
What accumulates over time is not only injustice or inefficiency, but disorder that becomes normalized—forms that persist without being justified. In that sense, the problem is not only that institutions fail to serve people adequately, but that they cease to reflect any intelligible standard of beauty or proportion at all.
Plato’s linkage of the good with the beautiful, Aristotle’s concern with order and telos, and even later critiques of modern rationalization all gesture toward the same intuition: that a society cannot remain coherent if it abandons form as a guiding principle. When design collapses into mere administration, and administration into inertia, what follows is not neutrality but a slow degradation of intelligible structure, a tired structural decay disguised as normal life.
So the issue is not simply moral failure in isolated decisions, but an aesthetic drift in which “what is” gradually displaces “what should be taken seriously as a form worth inhabiting.” The result is a world that persists, but no longer convinces. It’s not a system that has broken. It is a system that has become apathetically indifferent to its own deformation—and therefore no longer recognizes what it would mean to be real.
Melon rinds and bits of hot dogs, cookie crumbs and rotten cotton candy, melted ice cream, mustard drippings, moldy goodies everywhere. Lots of popcorn, apple cores, banana peels and soggy sandwiches, and gobs of gorgeous gook to gobble
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