Frank N. Wilner’s latest piece, “Building Bridges of Understanding,” strikes a hopeful chord, one that many of us in labor would like to believe in. The idea that empathy and storytelling could bridge the widening gap between labor and management is as poetic as it is principled. But principles without power tend to wither in a system that rewards detachment from the very people who keep the trains moving.
There’s truth in Wilner’s reflection: Railroads, like rail crews, run best when there’s communication, not just compliance. But we must also confront the context. Workers have spent the past decade being told that cuts are progress, that longer trains with fewer people are a sign of innovation, and that any dissent is a lack of understanding rather than a product of it. You can’t ask for “radical empathy” when the boots on the ground haven’t been given so much as basic respect.
Yes, it would be eye-opening for a vice president to see what it takes to manage a steel leviathan winding through mountain grades on failing gear, with an ever-shifting lineup and no real support, and then step into the conductor’s boots when that beast breaks down in the middle of a storm. And yes, it would be equally useful for a rail worker to understand the constant pressure management faces from Wall Street’s quarterly stopwatch. But those conversations don’t happen in a vacuum. They happen in a workplace where the imbalance of power is not an abstract problem, but a daily fact.
Wilner rightly points out that the railroad isn’t a war zone. But labor didn’t bring the barbed wire. The dehumanizing effects of Precision Scheduled Railroading weren’t designed in consultation with those actually running the trains. And while some may scoff at union criticisms of “providers of capital,” let’s be honest. If capital’s returns came with derailments, crew fatalities and decimated rural service, we’re not just talking about market forces. We’re talking about casualties.
Still, Wilner’s call for storytelling and mutual understanding shouldn’t be dismissed. Empathy isn’t weakness. It’s the bedrock of any functioning human enterprise. But let’s build that bridge with more than good intentions. Let’s build it with shared accountability. That means CEOs showing up not just for video sessions, but for broken rail at midnight, for signal outages in the rain, for deadhead delays that pad limbo time without purpose, and for yard work performed in temperatures that either numb your hands or scorch your skin. That also means union leaders spending time listening, not just leading.
And if we’re quoting Frost, let’s remember: “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood.” The railroads have long taken the path most profitable. Labor has had to carve its own road through stone. If we’re truly to “make all the difference,” then let’s build that bridge not for the cameras or the quarterly report, but for the people who keep the system alive. Not as a gesture, but as a commitment. One written in sweat, not slogans. Until then, many of us will keep telling our story the way we always have—by staying on the train, even when no one’s listening.
Jason Doering is a locomotive engineer with more than 20 years of experience in the rail industry. Based in Las Vegas, Nev., he is a member of BLET Division 766, a former Nevada State Legislative Director for SMART-TD, and the former General Secretary of Railroad Workers United. He has spent his career advocating for workers’ rights and transportation safety.
