Once again, the masses have fallen for politicians like Donald Trump, whose pledge to “turn the United States into a manufacturing superpower again,” has—quite predictably—resulted in the exact opposite. Politicians love to tout their commitment to bringing manufacturing jobs back to the U.S., but such promises serve only to distract us from what’s really important: fighting for what factory jobs represented.

Before we get into it, I should note: this isn’t a piece against manufacturing itself, or manufacturing in the United States. My real gripe is with the revitalist narrative mainstream politicians keep pushing, and with this, I hope to both reveal the harms of this kind of politics and assert the one, true fix: workforce democracy.

It’s easy to understand why lofty promises to restore American industry have become a fixture of American politics—stable employment, decent wages, and a comfortable life, all without a college degree, sound great. But the politicians promising to restore this arrangement are selling you something that simply cannot be recaptured—a bygone era. Instead, we must move forward.

Between 1948 and 1973—the so-called “Postwar Boom”—the United States was a manufacturing powerhouse, churning out nearly half the world's goods. Driven by suburbanization, the Baby Boom, and the dawn of consumer credit, our factories underwent a wholesome pivot. Instead of building the tools needed to obliterate a family in Hiroshima, they turned their assembly lines toward churning out the things that kept an American family running: appliances and automobiles. They even took us to space (and showed those Commies who’s boss!).

In 1945, Germany, Japan, and much of Europe—along with their industrial output—lay in ruins. Their absence opened the door for the United States, whose factories emerged completely unscathed, to take over. American firms seized the moment, quickly becoming the main supplier of domestic consumers, along with much of the rest of the world. And at the helm of it all were labor unions, enjoying never-before-seen membership. Collectively, workers won greater access to employer-sponsored healthcare, retirement pensions, and paid vacation and sick leave, ensuring everyone shared in the nation’s growing wealth.

In fact, following the war, real median family income roughly doubled, and the historic power of labor unions played a major role in ensuring gains were spread unusually evenly across the greater working-class population. It makes sense why many hope to one day return to the heyday of American manufacturing.

But that dominance could not last forever. American manufacturers, faced with recovering foreign competition, began to lose their grip, and employers, increasingly able to automate and move work overseas, began to clamp down on what they saw as a worker uprising. 

But look at what is actually collapsing. It’s not output—U.S. manufacturing is nearing record highs—it’s employment, down from peaks of around 19.5 million in 1979, and closer to 12.7 million, largely because of automation. If the issue was that America could not produce enough goods, building factories and subsidizing domestic production—i.e., a revival— might be on the table. But it’s not; manufacturing simply requires fewer workers than it used to, and building more factories won’t bring those jobs back. And we don’t need it to. There’s a much easier way to go about bringing back a worker’s paradise, and it’s achievable without returning to an era where millions worked assembly lines.

Zero percent of the iPhone is assembled in America. China accounts for roughly 75 percent of iPhones produced, with the remaining 25 percent made mostly in India, yet Apple brings home the lion’s share of the profit. Why? Design, branding, and services—sectors the U.S. already leads in.

So why does the assembly happen in China? Not cheap labor—wages have climbed for over two decades. Instead, it’s China's sheer density. In Shenzhen, a city more populous than all but four U.S. states, the components and services needed to produce an iPhone can all be sourced within a few hours’ drive. Apple doesn’t need to build this ecosystem from the ground up when they launch a new product—they can find the nearly 9,000 engineers needed to staff a factory in as little as fifteen days.

Recreating that in the United States would take decades of coordination and training and likely billions (to trillions) of dollars. And even if it were made possible, there’s no guarantee that factories would be able to employ the same number of workers, nor that the end product would be nearly as affordable.

The economy has, in a sense, moved on from the age of “Made in USA,” but we cannot just leave the workers caught in the crosshairs to “retrain.” You would be wrong to tell a laid-off Kentuckian machinist to move to Cupertino and get a job in product design, but you would be evil to promise him his job back.

Nonetheless, politicians continue to promise exactly that kind of upset, simply because nostalgia is an easy win with a crowd of frustrated, sidelined blue-collar workers.

Take the Biden Administration’s deeply flawed CHIPS and Science Act, which cut blank checks to multi-billion-dollar corporations like Intel, Samsung, and TSMC—all too willing to socialize the risk while privatizing the profits. This is all to say: the issue is bipartisan. In fact, all ten of the past major-party nominees since 2000 have campaigned on some form of manufacturing revitalization, despite manufacturing employment suffering a net loss of approximately 4.5 million manufacturing jobs since the turn of the century, a 26% decline in just over two and a half decades.

Donald Trump (yep, we’re running it back) has made the restoration of American industry a central fixture of his identity, and his plan sounds quite straightforward: impose blanket tariffs on foreign goods, pressure companies to produce domestically, and let American workers reap the rewards. It’s an enticing pitch—foreign countries are stealing our labor; therefore, by restricting their competition, we can recapture that sector of the economy—especially now that recent studies show the American consumer is spending an additional $3,800 on goods and services since the beginning of Trump’s second term.

His plans completely backfired. The Trump Administration has now been mandated to refund the over $166 billion it collected from its tariffs. Moreover, his signature One Big Beautiful Bill Act rolled back incentives intended to support clean energy manufacturing, and shortly after, clean energy manufacturing investment fell 17% in 2025, $23 billion in manufacturing projects were canceled, and battery-manufacturing investment plunged 38% year over year in the fourth quarter.

Putting aside how restricting foreign competition is in direct conflict with the Republican ideal of a “free market,” none of his “solutions” are addressing the fundamental economic problem. They disproportionately punish the consumer with almost no demonstrable upside. At best, they raise costs for domestic manufacturers that depend on imported components and invite retaliation against American exporters (as we’ve seen). At worst, Trump’s unpredictable policy shifts and ongoing legal battles paralyze investor confidence and long-term investment, ironically leading to a sharp decline in domestic manufacturing.

We must make the case for an alternative. Factory jobs aren’t looked back upon for their glamor or respectability—they were downright dangerous. They’re remembered for their security—a characteristic hard-won by decades of collective bargaining and protesting on the part of labor unions. While we can’t bring those specific jobs back, we can fight for what they represent, and more: the guaranteed right to organize, a fair, indexed minimum wage, human working conditions, and most of all, democratic worker control. The data shows that automation is one of the most serious threats facing workers today. In a democratic workplace, those affected by the technology would get a real say in its application, potentially making jobs safer and more enjoyable.

It also means recognizing the value of work outside of the manufacturing sector: care workers, teachers, transit operators, public works employees, and the countless others who contribute to society in ways that simply cannot be quantified.

During the pandemic, the term “essential worker” became mainstream, but soon after, these heroes faded into the background once more. If these jobs truly are “essential,” it’s time we recognize them as such and provide their occupants with the wages, benefits, and security necessary for a stable life.