Country's praise for its laborers rings hollow on this Labor Day.

Byline: BOB BUSSEL For The Register-Guard

AFTER DECADES of not so benign neglect, America rediscovered its working class after Sept. 11, 2001. As has been widely noted, the courage and selflessness displayed by workers was instrumental in reassuring a shaken nation and bolstering America's resolve to move forward in a spirit of determination and hope.

Since Sept. 11, the photo opportunity with a firefighter, police officer or rescue worker has become a campaign requirement for politicians. For many Americans, wearing an FDNY or NYPD cap or T-shirt serves as a proud expression of gratitude and solidarity.

The bravery of the trapped coal miners in western Pennsylvania and their miraculous rescue by fellow workers determined to bring them home has reinforced the public's sense of working-class virtue, standing in stark contrast to the corporate vice demonstrated by business leaders who only months ago were regarded as social exemplars.

To paraphrase John Lennon, in the aftermath of Sept. 11, "a working class hero has become something to be."

Yet on Labor Day 2002, this outpouring of praise and adulation for American workers rings hollow and even hypocritical. In spite of this long overdue recognition, it is clear that the working class continues to experience the Rodney Dangerfield problem: "No respect." A few examples underscore this point.

Item: Many of Sept. 11's working-class heroes are members of labor unions and proud of that affiliation. The Bush administration, however, seems to believe that union membership is somehow incompatible with national security. In its proposal to establish a Department of Homeland Security, the administration asserts that it will need to create a "culture of urgency" and must deny workers the right to union representation and collective bargaining so it has a free hand to "reassign those who cannot adapt to the culture of urgency."

Item: The growing gap between the pay of corporate CEOs and workers has for some time been cited by social observers as disturbing evidence of widening class disparity. The implications of this gap were graphically revealed by Hendrik Hertzberg's recent column in the New Yorker magazine. Michael Eisner, the CEO of Walt Disney, which bought the movie rights to tell the story of the rescued Pennsylvania miners, has an annual salary ($145 million) that could pay the annual wages of 3,000 coal miners!

Item: The Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA) was passed more than a decade ago to provide workers time off to tend to important family issues (the birth of a child, caring for an ill parent, spouse or child, or completing an adoption). Yet, according to one expert, "The FMLA is almost worthless for most American workers because it is unpaid and therefore rarely utilized, and then usually by higher income workers."

These examples of anti-unionism and class bias could easily be extended: the Bush administration's threat to abrogate the collective bargaining process in the current West Coast dock dispute; IRS tax audits that disproportionately target the working poor while neglecting to scrutinize wealthy Americans; the millions of workers who lack health insurance, often because of an inability to meet high co-pays and premiums; the proliferation of tax cuts that favor the upper class over the working class; and the fact that some of the lowest paid workers in our society are those who care for our most vulnerable citizens, the very old and the very young.

Our inability to advance public policies that reduce class distinctions and truly enable citizens to fulfill the American Dream suggests that our newfound recognition of the working class is simply rhetorical. And to a large degree, this social deficit transcends partisan politics.

Although the Bush administration can properly be chided for unabashedly pursuing policies that undercut unions and favor the wealthy, Democrats have themselves been tentative, not only in their criticism of corporate malfeasance but also in their willingness to promote a bold reform agenda that would improve the lives of American workers.

It is noteworthy that when interviewed by journalists and asked to comment on their status as "heroes," most workers rejected that characterization. To a person, they instead replied: "I was just doing my job." The rest of us should let this sentiment be our guide. On Labor Day 2002, we should honor working-class Americans not with parades, photo ops, and T-shirts, but with a renewed commitment to the job of ensuring that liberty and justice are truly available for all.

Bob Bussel is associate professor of history and director of the Labor Education and Research Center at the University of Oregon.