Working Hours Legendary Strike: How Fierce the Fight for the 35-Hour Workweek Was

In 1984, workers in the West German metal industry went on strike for nearly seven weeks. Their goal: to reduce the workweek from 40 to 35 hours. Work was to become more humane.

In addition, IG Metall hoped that the reduced number of hours would create jobs for the 2.5 million unemployed. “More time to live, love, and laugh”—that was the strike’s motto.

Just as they do today, employers are strictly opposed to shorter working hours. “Not a minute less than 40 hours,” is their stance. The black-and-yellow federal government and the media are on their side. The greatest social showdown of the postwar era is looming.

Kickoff in the Southwest

The strike begins on May 14, 1984, in the North Württemberg/North Baden collective bargaining region, and a week later in Hesse. 57,500 workers at 23 companies walk off the job and gather in front of the factory gates. Strike days turn into strike festivals, featuring performances by bands and dance groups of all nationalities.

“We sang a lot at our site. People from other companies and organizations would stop by regularly,” recalls Doris Werder, who went on strike for six and a half weeks at Honeywell in Maintal, Hesse, at the time. “We had long discussions at the plant beforehand and knew: If we approach this with confidence, we can do it.”

500,000 workers are locked out

And they held out. Even though they often had a hard time in public. Doris Werder handed out flyers at information booths in Hanau and had to put up with quite a bit: “There were a few people who shouted things at us like, ‘You lazy bums, go get a job’ or similar remarks. You had to have nerves of steel. But once we got into a conversation with people, they understood our arguments.”

Employers are responding to the strike with an iron fist: a lockout. They’re locking employees out without pay. First, 155,000 in the contested collective bargaining regions of North Württemberg/North Baden and Hesse, where IG Metall is paying strike pay. Then, employees outside the conflict zones as well—even though this“cold lockout”is legally controversial.

Strike-related production losses—that’s the official justification. Soon, half a million locked-out workers are standing at the gates, ten times as many as the strikers.

Those subject to a “cold lockout” are not to receive any money

And the lockout organizers have allies: Normally, the employment office pays short-time work benefits in the event of production losses. But the head of the Federal Employment Agency, Heinrich Franke, issues a surprise decree: “To shorten the labor dispute,” there will be no money for those subject to a ‘cold lockout.’

IG Metall filed a lawsuit against the so-called “Franke Decree.” Strike pay for half a million locked-out workers—that would have quickly bled the union dry.

“The employers wanted to destroy IG Metall. And Franke helped them,” says Ernst Rau, who was then works council chairman at the auto supplier Roth in Gaggenau, Baden. For five weeks, he and 900 colleagues were locked out without pay.

It was doubly tough: The Roth workers, who belonged to the South Baden collective bargaining region, shared their strike headquarters in Gaggenau’s Merkurhalle with the metalworkers from the Mercedes plant in Gaggenau, which belonged to the North Württemberg/North Baden bargaining region. “We could watch as the Mercedes workers were paid in cash,” Rau recounts. “But the people trusted me to find a solution. And they were furious at Franke.”

“They quickly locked the office doors”

Across the country, thousands take to the streets to protest the lockout. On May 28, 250,000 people arrive in the federal capital of Bonn on 3,300 buses and 51 special trains and demonstrate in the pouring rain. The Roth workers from Gaggenau are among them.

In many cities, locked-out workers protested in front of factory gates, some also inside the plants and in front of employment offices. The Roth workers also marched to the employment office in Gaggenau. “They quickly locked the office doors as we came up the stairs,” Rau recounts. “The head of the employment office then spoke with us and explained, ‘I can’t pay you anything.’”

Rau is on his feet around the clock, just like thousands of other works council members and metalworkers: they write flyers and informational letters, organize actions, negotiate with landlords and banks, and distribute donations. Union members from all over Europe show solidarity with the struggling metalworkers.

On June 21, the courts finally rule the Franke decree unlawful. The employment office must pay out the short-time work benefits. Five days later, an agreement is finally reached in the collective bargaining dispute, through mediation by former Defense Minister Georg Leber (SPD).

The result: a reduction in the workweek to 38.5 hours, in exchange for more flexible working hours. The 40-hour barrier has been broken, against all odds. By 1995, the workweek in the West German metal industry had gradually dropped to 35 hours.

The “legendary strike”—it was worth it.