The standard line on the global economy goes something like this: what with new communications technologies, improved transportation, and the brave new world order of free trade agreements and official hostility to social justice, capital is pretty much free to go where it likes in search of cheap labor and lax regulatory regimes. Those who would resist corporate domination are helpless to stop it and are fighting a rear-guard action composed of outmoded appeals to government and a rather desperate hope for a renewed labor movement.

There's a lot of truth in this picture. But it's easy to overestimate both the power and flexibility of global economic forces.

The recent UPS strike is a good example. One reason the Teamsters were able to win such an impressive victory is because there is simply no way UPS can ship its operations to Indonesia. Their business is here, they're stuck here, and they've got to deal. Corporate capital is often tied to a particular location, whether due to geography, the nature of the business, or the availability of particular resources. These are pressure points-- places where we can force concessions because the option of pulling up stakes doesn't exist.

Which brings us to the Port of Seattle.

While not on the radar of most local activists, the Port--with its own taxing authority, budget, and elected officials--is the lead agency in Seattle's efforts to suck up to, and redirect tax money to, global capital. Port Commissioner Paul Schell, now running for mayor, is raising huge sums of money (see next story) specifically because of all the favors and relationships developed in his daily dealings with very big business. The Port uses our money, and the global economy uses the Port. If we pay attention, they'll have to deal.

Consider the demonstrations that took place against Nike a few months ago, regarding Nike's use of sweatshop labor and their eagerness to work with the genocidal Indonesian government. In one, activists leafletted shoppers at Niketown; at another, baseball fans at Nike Night at the Kingdome. So far, so good; public image matters to Nike.

But what if a few dozen or so socially aware longshore workers had refused to unload crates of shoes coming from Vietnam? That would hit Nike in the bank account.

Few are aware of the size or significance--economic or social--of the Port's operations. Close to $2.8 billion worth of clothing alone passed through the Port in 1995. That's not counting the shoes, which were another $736 million. Virtually every product associated with public outcry over sweatshop labor, from toys to electronic equipment, moves through the Port in quantities measures in the tens of thousands of tons annually: almost $26 billion worth in 1995.

The Ports of Seattle and Tacoma together are the second largest seaport in North America--larger than the New York-New Jersey complex, and second only to Los Angeles-Long Beach. This basic geographic fact won't change soon. While the various West Coast ports are in fierce competition, whoever controls the Seattle Port--an elected commission--has a pretty strong hand when it comes to setting policies. A Port that refused to ship sweatshop- produced goods, for instance, would lose some business, but by no means all.

There's also the power of the people who do the work. Because the Port isn't going anywhere, it's one of the few places where it's still possible to think in terms of workers taking over the factory. It's been done. The ILWU (the longshore workers' union) has a long history of militancy. Dockworkers refused to load or unload ships in solidarity with causes from the Russian Revolution, to the movement for peace in Vietnam, to resistance to the Contras. There's no reason they couldn't do the same over global corporate greed--a cause presumably nearer to their hearts.

Port traditions of decentralized electoral control and activist waterfront unions are largely dead today. The only people who pay attention to Port elections are the businesses who use it, and to a lesser extent the union. But both elections and unions remain potential areas for activist engagement that could produce striking results. David Ortman's candidacy this year is the first activist-reform Port candidacy in many years. And unions are starting to realize that their Cold War accommodations are no longer viable. The possibilities for building international solidarity at the waterfront are real, if remote. Whether through the ballot box or through direct action, Seattle activists have, right in our harbor, a chance to make an impact much more immediate than the best of leafletters can hope for. Let's use it.