The class compromise forged in the latter half of the twentieth century has undergone a significant transformation. As organized labor’s influence has diminished, economic inequalities have increased substantially. An examination of union density rates alongside the proportion of national income captured by the top 1 percent of earners reveals a clear correlation. This shift developed alongside a reduction in state intervention in economic regulation, even as governments have become more directly involved in curbing labor rights.

Historically the state has consistently catered to the interests of capital. Recent developments in the United States, Canada, and across Europe have made it increasingly apparent how capitalism consolidates power. When governments attempt to limit workers’ rights, they are, in effect, advancing the interests of the capitalist class. How did we arrive at this juncture in Canada? To answer that, we must briefly retrace the trajectory of the labor movement in Canada and Quebec.

The origin of Canadian labor rights can be traced to a watershed moment in 1872 when the Toronto Typographical Union went on strike to demand a nine-hour workday. Their protest, which drew ten thousand workers and sympathizers to the streets, led to the passage of the Trade Unions Act. This legislation decriminalized union activity and marked the first formal recognition of workers’ collective rights — although picketing remained illegal.

The early twentieth century witnessed increased labor militancy and the crystallization of a more cohesive labor movement. Civil authorities — under pressure from businesses — frequently invoked the Aid to the Civil Power, which authorized the deployment of military troops to maintain or restore public order. In response to the rise of social unrest, Canada established the Department of Labour in 1900, signaling a more interventionist approach by the federal government. The Industrial Disputes Investigation Act of 1907 introduced conciliation and mediation mechanisms for key industries — public utilities, mining, and transportation — vital pillars of the capitalist economy.

Labor unrest intensified during and after World War I, culminating in the Winnipeg General Strike of 1919. Though ultimately quashed, the strike became a landmark in the history of Canadian labor movement and helped shape future policy. In Quebec, the 1949 Asbestos strike — famously known as the “Grève de l’amiante” — was another watershed, redefining the balance between labor and capital.

Decades of struggle yielded meaningful gains: formal recognition of unions as bargaining agents, good-faith negotiation requirements, the prohibition of unfair labor practices, and the establishment of basic protections such as minimum wages and maximum working hours. However, the social security and labor rights once promoted by the political and judicial order soon became contested terrain.

Despite notable advancements for workers and constitutional protections for citizens, the country’s highest court has often adopted a narrow, liberal interpretation of labor rights. In 1987, the Supreme Court issued three decisions holding that the freedom of association guaranteed by the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms does not protect the rights to bargain collectively and to strike. This reading came at a time when neoliberal ideas were spreading rapidly, and the implementation of shock doctrine reforms further curtailed the influence of trade unions.

Although the court reversed course in 2015 — ruling that the freedom of association under Section 2(d) of the Charter does protect collective bargaining — provincial governments continue to implement legislation that restricts workers’ right to strike. This has created ongoing tension between constitutional jurisprudence and provincial labor policy.

Quebec is not the only province that has grappled with the politicization of the labor movement. In Ontario, after nearly three decades of weakened protections, the government finally agreed in 2023 to vote on the Anti-Scab Labour Act, which would prohibit the use of replacement workers. The original law against strikebreakers had been repealed in 1995 — part of a larger deregulatory wave fueled by growing hostility toward organized labor. These policies systemically undermined workers’ capacity to resist capital’s encroachments.

The state can employ two threats when labor disputes escalate. First is binding arbitration, in which a neutral third party imposes a settlement. Second is the implementation of back-to-work legislation, which forcibly ends a strike and imposes a new contract without negotiation. The increasing use of such measures in Canada is well documented. By forcing strikers to return to work, the state effectively serves the interests of capital.

Recent examples abound. In November 2024, the Canadian Union of Postal Workers (CUPW) —which represents 50,000 workers — launched a strike. After a monthlong work stoppage, federal labor minister Steven MacKinnon successfully sought and obtained an order from the Canada Industrial Relations Board (CIRB) to compel workers to return to their jobs. The same year, dockworkers in Montreal and Vancouver and railway workers from the Canadian National Railway Company (CN) and Canadian Pacific Kansas City (CPKC) initiated strikes. In each case, employers responded with lockouts, while arbitration and back-to-work laws loomed over negotiations. These recurring threats reflect what labor theorists term “permanent exceptionalism,” a condition in which political interference in collective action becomes routine — normalizing the erosion of workers’ rights.

What about Bill 89? It’s not just a direct attack on workers’ rights — it reflects a deeper, long-standing anti-union narrative. The strategy typically begins with large employers and follows a familiar script: When workers strike, they are framed as holding the public hostage. Economic activity slows or halts, companies report losses, public frustration grows, and capitalists channel that resentment against strikers.

Bill 89 embodies this rhetorical maneuver. By pitting the population’s “needs” against workers’ right to strike, the Quebec government creates a false dilemma. By alienating the public in this manner, the state and business community seek to undermine solidarity among workers and portray the labor movement as obstinate and selfish. The bill also acts as a deterrent for employees who wish to organize, knowing their job action could be legally suppressed at any time.

Historically restrictions on striking were limited to “essential services” such as hospitals. Bill 89 proposes to vastly expand that definition — potentially encompassing services for children with special needs, school transportation, ferry services, funeral services, food processing, and logistics. The exact scope is yet undetermined. But what is clear is that the bill would grant the government sweeping powers to unilaterally shut down strikes in key sectors, all under the guise of protecting the economy.

Since the pandemic, strikes have proliferated across the country — particularly in Quebec. In 2023 alone, more than 600 labor disputes culminated in strike action involving more than 350,000 workers. This renewed militancy is didn’t come out of nowhere: it reflects five years of economic insecurity, inflation, and a deepening housing crisis. Bill 89 is a response to this resurgence — an effort to suppress revitalization of labor through political force.

Quebec, long the heartland of union strength in Canada, now faces a frontal assault on its labor institutions. But this moment need not divide workers — it can galvanize them. Rather than retreat, the labor movement has an opportunity to expand its strategy, grow its membership, and push beyond traditional union frameworks. What’s needed now is a renewed working-class politics — one capable of asserting labor’s role as a major force in both economic life and the political sphere.