Who will speak for you?

First they came for your employment status. And I did not speak out....

We live in an age of instant gratification. 280-character posts on Twitter or X, as we now call it. Short-form vertical videos that barely register as they flicker across our retinas. Global news reduced to political soundbites and clickbait headlines.

I read just such a headline yesterday. It came out of Australia and it stopped me in my tracks.

“BHP says the return of unions is the definition of unproductive.”

For those unfamiliar, BHP is a mining giant. In this instance, they’re talking about extracting iron ore in Western Australia. And they know a thing or two about productivity. Australian mines are finely tuned machines; extracting as much as possible, for as little as possible. Productivity is their middle name. It’s in their DNA.

So when the world’s biggest mining company starts publicly fretting about a potential loss of productivity, people pay attention.

But here’s the thing. There’s more to this story than a single line in a press release.

According to reports, BHP says the outcome of union attempts to regain a foothold in the iron ore industry will influence whether it triggers a potential multi-billion-dollar investment. BHP’s CEO Mike Henry claims that any dent in productivity would make it harder to justify investing in Western Australia.

At this point, most readers probably sighed and thought, “Typical. Bloody unions. Slowing everything down again.” And that’s certainly the tone of the article, which frames the story as unions threatening efficiency, shaking the system, being a nuisance.

What it doesn’t do is explain how or why the return of a union might undermine productivity.

If it meant workers taking extended breaks to attend union meetings, or spending hours at negotiation tables, maybe BHP has a point. But even that’s simplistic. Unions are more than meeting rooms and wage disputes.

For a union to reappear after decades of absence, there must surely be a reason. A grievance. A need. Maybe workers are no longer content with their conditions. Maybe they’re tired of silence. Maybe they feel like they're machines themselves: replaceable, voiceless, spent.

Let’s not forget that BHP is a pioneer in autonomous mining. The company operates more than 40 driverless mining trucks in Western Australia alone. While those machines are maintained by humans, they’ve still taken 40 jobs off the books. Run those trucks on double shifts, and that’s 80 human jobs replaced in the name of efficiency.

The very notion of productivity, then, has become a loaded term. It’s a synonym for doing more with less. And yes, sometimes that means doing more with less people.

And while all of that may seem a world away, it should hit close to home for those of us in the construction and demolition sector.

Because we’re not far behind.

In our world too, productivity is everything. Do more. Do it quicker. Do it cheaper. Repeat.

Autonomous machines are not science fiction. They’re lurking just beyond the horizon. Already here in some places. And much like in mining, we too have a vacuum where workers’ voices used to be. There are no unions with teeth. No mass representation. Just individuals, navigating an industry that chews people up and spits them out.

Let me be clear: I am not waving a union banner. I’ve been a member of two in my life, and I left both under a cloud. But let me ask you this:

Would so many skilled workers have been forced out of secure, permanent employment and into agency work or zero-hour contracts if there was a strong union standing behind them?

Would the epidemic of mental health issues in our sector be allowed to fester and go unaddressed if thousands of voices were channelled through a single, powerful entity?

Would safety be sidelined in the name of speed if someone had the authority to say: No more?

This isn’t a call for the rebirth of old-school unions, with their bureaucracy, infighting, and trademark arrogance. That model may no longer fit the modern world.

But the need for representation - for a collective voice - is more urgent than ever.

Because the truth is, we are seeing direct employment slowly eroded, swept away by in pursuit of flexibility. We are watching health and safety regulations treated as checkboxes rather than lifelines. And we are already seeing jobs begin to disappear in the name of efficiency and progress.

And no one is speaking up.

No one is raising the alarm on behalf of the men and women who show up before dawn, who work in mud, dust, noise, and danger. Who build the world and tear it down.

We often celebrate the machines, the technology, the innovation. But machines don’t build. People do. Machines don’t mentor the apprentice or watch your back when a wall buckles. Machines don’t call your family if something goes wrong.

And yet, machines are getting louder in our industry. Not in sound, but in presence. Meanwhile, the humans around them are growing quieter. Fewer. More disposable. And more afraid to speak.

Because here’s the hard truth: in the pursuit of productivity, people have become a problem to be solved. The cost to be cut. An inefficiency to be streamlined.

So when the machines do start replacing jobs - your job, or your mate’s job - who will speak for you?

Will it be the HR rep whose bonus depends on cost savings?

The equipment supplier selling the robot that replaces you?

The government department run by someone who’s never set foot on a site?

Or will it be silence?

Because that’s what we’ve got now. Silence. On suicide. On burnout. On broken backs and missed birthdays and lives shortened by an industry that measures time in billable hours

If unions can no longer provide that balance, then we need something else that can. Because right now, we have nothing. And the silence is deafening.

So the next time you see a headline like BHP’s—“The return of unions is the definition of unproductive”—take a moment.

Not to get angry. Not to shout. Just to think. Think about what productivity really means. Think about who gets to define it. Think about what we’ve already lost in the name of progress, and what more might be lost if no one asks the hard questions.

And maybe wonder who’s left to ask them.