It was my first day on the job. In the sheaf of new-employee materials I received from HR was a form authorizing the company to deduct a certain percentage from each week’s pay and send it to the union that represented the company’s workers. I didn’t want to be involved with the union, so I didn’t sign the form.

A few days later, the union sent me a letter. It was a reminder to complete and submit the dues-withholding authorization — and a warning that the matter wasn’t optional. Under the terms of the collective bargaining agreement then in force, employees were required to relinquish part of their pay to the union as a condition of keeping their job. It made no difference that I had no interest in any union, still less that I had no wish to be represented by this particular union. My preferences were irrelevant. I was working at a union shop in a state without a “right to work” law; if I refused to pay the specified weekly amount, the union could compel the company to fire me.

In the end, the union got my money. What I got in exchange — or rather, was forced to accept — was to be represented by the union in its negotiations with the company. But one thing I and my co-workers did not get — not then, not ever — was a vote on whether we wanted that representation to continue.

The basic architecture of US labor law has been in place since the passage of the landmark Wagner Act in 1935. According to the National Labor Relations Board, the law “protects workplace democracy” by allowing workers to organize unions for their collective benefit. The most fundamental component of any democracy is the right of individuals to periodically choose their representatives. By that measure, America’s unions are about as democratic as the North Korean politburo.

The federal Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that 7.4 million workers in the private sector belonged to labor unions in 2023. Yet according to a new study from the Institute for the American Worker, which promotes market-oriented labor reform, fewer than 400,000 of those unionized employees — about 5 percent — have ever voted in an election for the union that represents them. Like me, the vast majority of employees in unionized workplaces were hired after the union had already been voted in. Most unions have never been required to confirm that they have the support of current workers by winning a recertification election. In some workplaces, a lifetime has elapsed — that isn’t hyperbole — since the union was first certified. The United Auto Workers organized General Motors’ Michigan plants in 1937 and has represented the employees who work there ever since. Never once has it had to stand for reelection. What kind of “workplace democracy” is that?

Under federal law, it is possible for a union to be removed if workers vote to do so in a decertification election. But organizing such an election is extremely difficult. The NLRB requires 30 percent of employees in the workplace to sign petitions requesting that a vote be held. But under the agency’s “contract bar” rule, signature-gathering is prohibited for three years after a collective bargaining agreement is reached. Even then, only a single month is permitted for petitioning.

Given the obstacles to effecting a change, it isn’t surprising that most union members are represented by unions they had no say in choosing. Unions prefer it that way, of course. It reduces pressure on them to produce results for employees. It gives powerful ideological unions more time and money to devote to politics or to pursuing an agenda that has nothing to do with collective bargaining. Even the most conscientious union officers will tend to be less responsive and accountable if they know that workers have to pay dues no matter what.

In the political arena, Americans would never tolerate this. Elected officials must stand for reelection in order to retain their seats. In many states, sitting judges face periodic retention elections. To be sure, for many incumbents reelection is a foregone conclusion. Members of Congress are almost never turned out of office; in Massachusetts, most legislators never face a challenge. Nevertheless, even the most entrenched and arrogant incumbents know they must submit to the voters’ judgment on a regular schedule. They may have little to fear, but there is always the possibility of change — and sometimes the reality. Just ask US Representatives Cori Bush of Missouri and Jamaal Bowman of New York, both of whom were defeated in primary elections this summer.

Reasonable people can vigorously debate whether states should enact right-to-work laws, whether government employees should be unionized, or whether freelancing and gig work is compatible with collective bargaining. But there ought to be nothing controversial about holding regular recertification elections in unionized workplaces so that employees can weigh in on whether they wish their current union to keep representing them. No doubt many union members would ardently support the union; no doubt others might want a change. If “workplace democracy” means anything, it means that they should all have the right to express their views in a secret ballot — just as they do when they vote for a mayor or a ballot issue.

Labor unions are granted considerable privileges. They can count on a guaranteed stream of income from employees’ paychecks, and they alone are empowered to negotiate wages, benefits, and working conditions on behalf of the whole workforce. So it’s only right that employees should get a regular say in whether the union stays or goes. “One person, one vote, one time” is no way to uphold democratic values. Lawmakers in America take it for granted that their constituents get a vote every few years. Should workers be entitled to anything less?