Once upon a time there was a labour movement in Bermuda that caught on from another movement happening in Europe. Like forest fire, it set a blaze and spread rapidly all over the world. The 19th-century Industrial Revolution created a kind of wealth unseen and with it came new levels of exploitation. Factories precipitated towns, and people in droves found it difficult to find sustainable living in the countrysides and began to migrate closer and closer to the cities where work could be found.

The idea of wages was not fully formed — at least not universally. People worked for food and traded goods for goods, including work for shelter. This is hardly an excuse for exploitation, but reality has it that exploitation grew out of those circumstances, and at some point as an inevitability, natural progressiveness of need would correct that inhumanity. A few of us will still remember a time when salaries were not uniform or even. Bosses paid what they thought the labour was worth, and persons working side-by-side doing the same task were paid differently. If you added race or gender to the equation, it was decidedly different.

Then there was international disparities: tradesmen in the United States in the earlier 20th century were paid far more than persons working almost anywhere in the world. It was certainly true in Bermuda, and it sparked controversy and labour unrest, which some would say led to the formation of the first labour union.

The cause was real. There were so many disparities and irregularities within the work world. Society was segregated not only racially but economically where things such as education and higher learning were for the privileged, and proper healthcare was for those who could afford it. It was your fault if you did not have enough to thrive. The creation of the union did not radically shift the life of the workforce to that of approaching wealth, but it evened wages and benefits for everyone.

It was not an easy process, it was a struggle to bring reform to a laissez-faire market culture. Strikes, strong leadership and the slogan “United we stand, divided we fall” bulldozed the changes we now live with and take for granted as the new norm.

Labour leaders such as E.F. Gordon were hated by the establishment and revered by the working class. Then there were the issues of segregation and the property vote, both of which gave depth to the cause. While voters’ rights and wages belong in separate arenas, they equally led to frustration and revolt.

Riding the crest of that wave were the likes of Dr Gordon, who passed on the baton which was eventually picked up by Ottiwell Simmons. The recently deceased leader garnered support in the mid-1960s and built huge momentum amid a period of labour unrest. He became both a labour leader and a politician for the labour party. Such was the thrust of the labour component that it virtually crushed the Progressive Movement that helped its beginnings. The statement “This is a labour party” would go unchallenged and accepted as true reality.

There is an old maxim: “A man pressed against his will is of the same opinion still.” That statement is not only true of people; it is true for markets also. A market pushed against its will is of the same opinion still.

When we take off our tinted glasses and look clearly, most of the early struggles of labour have been met. The overall market has absorbed those adjustments and trimmed their sails accordingly. However, the market itself has not changed — the leaders of yesterday are still the leaders of today. The only way a market changes is if new competition is entered or through some innovation new trends emerge.

The apex of the union struggle and clash with the market was 1981 with the island-wide strike. One can mark their calendar from that date and observe the steady decrease in union membership, and watch how the market found a new source of exploited manual labour via the Portuguese import. Maintenance companies sprang up and so much labour was arriving, at which point there was talk of a direct flight to and from the Azores.

There was no more battlefield for the union, the cause was spent and a new role was never found. They were left with picking fights over bus schedules and decertification rules, but nothing pivotal or of great significance. They say “idle hands is the Devil’s workshop”. The leadership of late has been of idle hands; the largest job of the union today is managing itself.

Many organisations in Bermuda have faced a similar fate. We saw the disappearance of the lodges and Friendly Societies which were once an essential part of the community but which never reinvented themselves to remain current and adjust to the times. The workmen’s clubs are following a similar trend, and now the political parties are filled to rafters with senior citizens dominating their delegates roster.

The unions are awash with persons who marched many years ago and remember the trails. Unfortunately, there is no new vision or role, no new ideas that can inspire or stimulate a new generation — just the memories and rehashed tales of yesterday’s warriors. Worse still, we have modern-day leaders trying to see how snugly they can fit into the pockets of the wealthy.

The funeral of Ottiwell Simmons was not just the burial of his body, but also the burial of his legacy and that of his predecessors — symbolically, the burial of the union they all represented.