Archive for the ‘Books’ Category

Olympus E-PM2 with Tokina 80-400mm

Olympus E-PM2 with Tokina 80-400mm (Photo credit: hto2008)

I was really looking forward to reading ‘Exposure: Inside the Olympus Scandal‘. Perhaps unfortunately it has parallels to the fictional ‘Rising Sun‘ so I was hoping for a similarly dramatic story of moral uprightness in the face of wrongdoing. Maybe some readers found that to be the case, but as I worked through the book I thought the ethics of the situation became murkier.

In brief: Briton Michael Woodford was made President of Olympus in 2011. Just a few months into the job he became aware of an accounting fraud when it was leaked to independent magazine Facta by an anonymous employee. He tells his executives to investigate it but gets stonewalled and, when he pushes the issue, the board dismisses him.

The fraud in question was a loss incurred all the way back in the late 1980s during Japan’s property slump, when an investment turned sour. Company insiders had kept it out of the accounts all that time before deciding to realise the loss in 2008 by purchasing a phoney company and counting the $700 million debt as an ‘advisory fee’. Woodford wryly comments that, had it been real, it would have been the largest advisory fee in history.

But that’s as far as the scandal goes. There’s no hidden agenda, no underworld involvement, not even any personal enrichment arising from these shenanigans. The perpetrators were motivated purely by the desire to protect their own company. A victimless crime then? Not exactly; the shareholders were clearly being misled, however massaging of ugly facts is so commonplace in Japan that it’s difficult to call it wrongdoing (see earlier post about laws vs norms). The Economist described the Olympus affair as “not so much a scandal as a state of mind”.

Is it just a simple clash of Anglo American vs Japanese values? Woodford didn’t think so. He argues forcefully while at Olympus (and again in his book) that such practices are rotten and need to change. Japan’s closed-rank corporate culture, he says, did wonders for the country in the postwar era but now that those companies have grown up they need to be able to adapt to changing circumstances. Unquestioning deference does not allow people to take the necessary risks to fight off competitors, notably including those in next-door Korea. Woodford passionately wants Olympus to succeed but sees its own corporate culture as its biggest challenge. How much impact his actions will have in the long term remains to be seen.

Here he is talking about his experience on Australian television:

Shareholder value versus value to other stakeholders

On the narrower question of the fraud itself, I can empathise with the unknown people who were trying to correct the damage. They remind me of the hapless crew of the Battleship Yamato who continued to man the guns even when the ship’s fate was sealed. Woodford comes from an Anglo-American perspective of shareholder capitalism. In his view the profitability of the company is the number one value. The Japanese, on the other hand, see the company in a more embedded fashion: it exists in a web of relationships including the other members of its keiretsu conglomerate, suppliers, customers, employees and factory towns. It sounds noble to make the company face the music, but what effect does it have on the ongoing wellbeing of all those stakeholders? (If that sounds touchy-feely, don’t laugh; the U.S. Government used exactly these justifications to rescue both the financial industry and General Motors)

Faced with such ludicrously high responsibility, it’s not hard to see why the poor devils working in Olympus’s back offices opted to delay the day of reckoning. I’m not saying it was the right call, just that it’s understandable with the pressure they would have felt.

Harvard Business Review ran an article last month titled ‘Long CEO Tenure Can Hurt Performance’. It compared the stock return of several companies against the length of tenure of their CEO and, sure enough, the short-term CEOs saw the greatest rise in stock price. What was omitted was whether the companies stock prices performed better after the CEO in question departed; not as well, I suspect. However that is a tactical argument. The real point is that bundled into the article is the Anglo-American assumption that the share price is the measure of a company’s worth, and what it accomplishes in the real world is only an adjunct to this. I’m not convinced.

See also:

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Mujeres saharuis en la maquila

Mujeres saharuis en la maquila (Photo credit: gaelx)

I’ve written a few times about Latin American workers (see links below). Here at last is a broad description of attempts to cross-border advocacy in Latin American apparel-producing countries and North American apparel-consuming countries.

The book uses four 1990s campaigns as case studies:

  • Guatemala: Phillips Van-Heusen
  • El Salvador: Gap supplier Mandarin International (Taiwanese-owned)
  • Honduras: Kimi (Korean-owned), supplier of retail store-label clothes
  • Nicaragua: Chentex (Taiwanese-owned), another supplier of retail store-label clothes

The picture is not a pretty one. These four campaigns attained the rare victory of union recognition but, after that, their companies invariably relocate. The wonders of Capital Mobility. It makes me think of trying to stop a vacuum cleaner by holding its nozzle; it can simply detach the nozzle and use another (I’m sure there are better metaphors … suggestions are welcome!) Even so, the author writes, capital is not omnipotent and with better co-ordinated campaigns could be held to account. The world is only so big and brands in this day and age should have nowhere to hide.

The author, Ralph Armbruster-Sandoval, explains how pressure in each case was applied across borders, at both ends of the supply chain. He calls this the Keck-Sikkink or Boomerang Model (p. 22). Mis-coordinated boomerang campaigns, he argues, keep allowing the ball to be dropped after a short-term victory.

He sets out the history of overlapping pressure groups, something I’ve noticed before. Apparently the Workers Rights Consortium (WRC) was set up in 1999 specifically by people unhappy about the compromise-solution of the Fair Labor Association (FLA) which, among other things, does not insist on a minimum living wage (p. 12). The FLA are now famous as Apple/Foxconn’s inspectors (more on them next month). Likewise the IGLHR, formerly NCLC, was set up in 1981 by people unhappy with the AFL-CIO‘s pro-US foreign policy approach during the Cold War (p. 82). The AWU-APHEDA spat in Australia is another symptom of the same division. People have long memories.

Even allowing for these historical differences, there is a recurring difference in approach between groups that push the need for independent unions, and groups that push for independent monitoring (p. 13). I wish I’d learned this sooner. Throughout this blog I’ve looked at campaigns run by both camps and I’ve been somewhat biased towards the AFL-CIO approach. As a union official, it’s hard not to be. I just don’t see how you can have a successful campaign without involving the people who stand to benefit from it; you’ll end up with a result on paper that is not enforced.

In Keck and Sikkink’s (1998) model, domestic non-state actors establish ties with NGOs, creating transnational advocacy networks (TANs), who, in turn, put pressure on their respective states to bring about social change. This model [...] is quite useful but it inadvertently places too much emphasis on TANs, making them seem like they are the “saviors” of the “poor, downtrodden masses” …

[T]heir model gives one the impression that domestic non-state actors cannot independently determine their own fates without “outside assistance”. (p. 103)

and again:

[W]omen maquiladora workers have often been framed as “victims” while U.S.-based consumers and activists are seen as “saviors”. (pp. 149-150)

However you need the consumer advocacy to open up the space for organising; it’s not often there as a given. Indeed weak labor regulation is usually one of the reasons production has been moved to these countries to begin with. It’s all very comforting to prefer organising over distant advocacy but it might not always be practicable. Consider the IGLHR report into the KYE Systems factory, maker of Microsoft peripherals (which I covered here). The only options for a local partner are the Chinese state union or unrecognised local NGOs whose leaders risk prison.

If it were ever used properly, the boomerang model would actually render the dilemma moot. Successful campaigns draw on moral and material leverage (p. 59). As one wit (@WithoutDoing) recently put it on Twitter:

For something to be changed it must be both pushed and pulled (12 Oct)

This is absolutely not a theoretical debate. The two camps need to have more than a passing regard for one another, they need to actively co-operate. Using the example of the Salvadoran maquila (garment) industry, the author notes:

Consensus between the NLC, AFL-CIO and UNITE existed, on the surface, during the Gap campaign. In reality, tensions ran high. It should be pointed out that all three groups did work together, but their strategic and historical differences generated unnecessary conflict. The NLC distrusted the [local peak groups'] involvement in the Gap campaign because of their previous ties with AIFLD [the pro-US foreign policy outfit which generally sought to undermine leftist regimes in Latin America]. AIFLD’s uncritical stance towards El Salvador’s human rights abuses generated dissent within the AFL-CIO, sparking the establishment of the NLC in 1981 [...] The NLC rejects working with all “corrupt” centrist unions like the CTD, CTS and CNTS [...]

The ACILS, AFL-CIO and UNITE also claimed that the NLC’s campaigns are too “media-driven” and that they leave workers defenseless after they are inevitably fired. These organisations suggest that the NLC should work towards empowering workers and making them (rather than consumers, students, or [NLC leader] Charles Kernaghan) the primary agents of change, on the ground, through unionization.

These perspectives highlight a crucial, though unstated point: officials from the NLC, UNITE, the AFL-CIO and ACILS generally mistrust each other (p. 82).

Touchez!

People need to focus on this bigger picture, an awful lot depends on it.

As to the issue of Capital Mobility, Armbruster-Sandoval suggests region-wide organizing as a means of limiting companies’ tendency to ‘cut and run’ (p. 133). It had not been launched at the time this book was published but the Asia Floor Wage campaign does exactly that.

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Samsung Galaxy S III

Samsung Galaxy S III (Photo credit: John Biehler)

If ever there was a serious contender for the title “iPhone killer”, the Samsung Galaxy S III is the closest thing I’ve seen. It’s time to take a closer look at its maker.

Samsung already sells considerably more handsets than Apple, but they don’t get anything like the amount of attention that Apple does, at least in English-speaking media. It’s not surprising: Most of their sales are made outside the USA, their stock isn’t listed on the NYSE and their product launches are in the Korean language (and in Seoul).

Korea is a pretty big player. The population of North and South combined is nearing that of Japan. Samsung looms large in South Korea’s national identity. It generates nearly 20% of the country’s GDP, a proportion that hasn’t changed much in years (AMRC, p. 48). The company’s economic output of $250 billion is larger than most national economies. At the World Expo, currently underway in Korea’s port city of Yeosu, Samsung has its own pavilion.

Like other trans-national corporations, Samsung outsources production around the world, often to places where manufacturing has lower wage cost.

The rise of Samsung and its operations throughout Asia are the subject of the first half of the book Labour in Globalising Asian Corporations published by Asia Monitor Resource Center (the second half deals mostly with Toyota).

The chapters are written by different authors and are a little episodic so, other than the general theme, the book doesn’t have an over-arching narrative. Each chapter is a meticulously pieced-together portrait of the company’s workforce, particularly Chapter 1 which makes a sweeping tour through Korea’s economic history right back to the Japanese occupation in the 1930s, the time of Samsung’s formation. It that respect it is an invaluable resource for students and others interested in alternative economics.

The book carefully documents the company’s shortcomings, mostly with respect to wages. In its home country Samsung uses a strategy of providing reasonable pay but banking on its prestige as an employer to squeeze the workforce to work harder and sacking the bottom 5-7% of performers every year as a matter of course.

The company has a declared ‘no union’ policy which it promotes by various means:

  1. Historically when workers in Korea itself start agitating for better pay, the company has given raises, neutering any union message.
  2. Outsourcing to suppliers that are separate companies on paper but actually controlled by Samsung management.
  3. In Korea and South-east Asia the company has succeeded in registering paper unions so that activists can’t obtain official recognition, and/or having real unions dissolved over minor administrative impediments.
  4. In Malaysia it also got the cooperation of the government to prevent unionization as part of the package of sweeteners to bring investment. This sounds outrageous but is possible because Malaysia has not ratified the ILO Convention on freedom of association.

It’s strange that Korea’s corporations are so virulently anti-union when Japanese companies learned a long time ago to work with them.

Samsung, owned and operated from Korea, also presents a challenge unlike anything I’ve covered to date. Whilst it is a public company it is not like other global brands, in which the largest stockholders are pension funds and no single fund owns a substantial holding. Samsung is a chaebol, a colossal interlocking network of companies all controlled by Lee Kun-hee and his family. The national government has only taken timid steps to wind back the chaebol system, despite its weaknesses such as overproduction which became apparent during the 1997-1998 economic crisis.

With no unions, little regulation and not even a fig-leaf of shareholder accountability there aren’t a whole lot of options to counter the power of the Lee Family. Social movement activism seems to be on the rise though. Last month a large meeting of three dozen activist networks took place in Seoul, making ten years of the International Campaign for Responsible Technology and they had Samsung squarely in their sights, holding a large protest outside the company’s headquarters.

The focus of this protest is occupational deaths among Samsung employees resulting from leukemia. The company has taken no action to improve safety (oddly this issue is not covered in Labour in Globalising Asian Corporations, even though it was only published a couple of years ago).

Their campaign is making some headway: on June 21st the country’s National Human Rights Commission requested that the Ministry of Employment and Labor change the rules to make it easier to prove that workplace injury and disease is attributable to the employer.

Chaebols still have to negotiate just like anyone else when their workforce is organised (it’s getting to that point that is the problem in Samsung). Just over a week ago, truck drivers belonging to the Korean Transport Workers Union achieved a 9.9% pay rise after a week-long strike. Samsung doesn’t have magic powers to prevent unionisation, just good lawyers.

Labour in Globalising Asian Corporations is available in hard copy from Asian Monitor Resource Center. It’s also available on their website in PDF. The sections relating to Samsung are:

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fairtrade products

Conor Woodman has recently put out a second book Unfair Trade, as a follow up to his 2011 book The Adventure Capitalist (the film version of which I reviewed here). The two books sit together well: the first is a travelogue with the unique twist that Conor is aiming to get back home having made more money than he’s spent. The second is a more circumspect look at how trade in and from developing countries could lift more people out of poverty than it currently does.

I found it to be inspiring but also unsettling. Conor gently shows the greater effectiveness of market-driven means to prosperity as against the simplicity of fairtrade solutions, which is a hard message to accept.

He uses fairtrade coffee as an example. To obtain fairtrade certification, a company need only promise that it will always pay, at a minimum, the fairtrade price of US $2.81/pound. However the market price has been far in excess of that for the last five years ($5.73 at time of writing) – it’s a pretty easy promise to make! In exchange coffee sellers get the aura of fairtrade certification.

Meanwhile, other companies working fairly with developing-world suppliers do not get the branding aura they deserve because they are not certified - three examples being Ethical Addictions, the Rare Tea Company and Olam International‘s work in Cote D’Ivoire. These companies go even further, paying suppliers roughly double the market price because they can connect their goods to users interested in their particular blends. Sounds pretty fair to me, but you’d never know it from the label.

Conor also points out that fairtrade organisations receive income from companies to use their logo and they spend it roughly equal proportions on marketing and administration – the money is all spent in the developed world. Food for thought indeed!

The book is available on Amazon UK, including e-book and audio editions.

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English: Anti-WTO banner by Indonesian Migrant...

Image via Wikipedia

Concerned rich-world folks must frequently look across to workers in other countries making their goods in miserable conditions and want to help. The problem is, charity can sometimes be disempowering and can hinder rather than help workers’ attempts to solve issues for themselves.

Unions, the entities closest to the action and run by people involved firsthand, are surely the best-placed vehicle to advance workers’ rights. So why is it that sweatshops remain prevalent in Indonesia after so many years?

Let’s start at the beginning

For many decades, the predominant strand of unionism in Indonesia were the corporatised official unions falling under the umbrella of the FBSI peak body (re-named SPSI in 1985). FBSI worked closely with the governing Golkar super-party and saw itself as ‘covering the field’. Due to their close relationship with the government their mission was also to assist the overall national development, even if that meant occasionally soft-peddling on workers’ concerns.

Yet it is not so easy to eradicate ideas. Other strains of unionism could not be kept away: firstly the more radical, more Marxist anti-employer strain, and secondly a limited-scope kind which wanted to remain focused on improving workers’ socio-economic interests without becoming entangled in politics and the compromises that inevitably follow.

Activists were not allowed to register unions with either of those objectives, so they instead formed NGOs to pursue their agenda. Initially the NGOs were formed for euphemistic purposes but as time went on they became more and more open about their labour focus.

The 30 year period of official corporatist policy and a historically sharp gap between the working and middle classes combined to create a lasting divide between working class unionists and middle-class intellectuals. The latter struggled perpetually with the problem that they did not ‘belong’ to the group on whose behalf they were acting:

There is no guarantee that [middle-class NGO workers] share workers interests, because feelings of pity are not a form of class-consciousness (p. 124)

On the other hand, some were far-sighted enough to embrace this and saw their involvement as being only temporarily necessary:

We have sought to prepare workers who are capable of leadership and critical thought, and who are independent and self-sufficient. We have tried to minimise the dependence of workers and worker organisations on the NGO that facilitates them (p. 125)

In 1998 Suharto resigned and Golkar’s hegemony came to an end. In the 14 years since, a gradual adjustment has been going on. Unions have had an easier time registering and operating without government intimidation. Both changes have also made NGOs less relevant; the unions of Indonesia are now beginning to stand on their own feet.

Today there are three national trade union confederations, confusingly named KSBSI, KSPI and KSPSI. Whilst the ensuing division and rivalry no doubt weakens the voices of the workers it could be lessened with effort. The current arrangement at least allows ideologically diverse activists to each operate in their own spheres.

So, if you want to assist the sweatshop workers of Indonesia, don’t simply send your money to Oxfam – help them to get their story out. Consumer awareness might not be the most potent weapon by itself but it greatly amplifies work being done on the factory floor.

Preconceptions erased

I found this book to be a real preconception-buster. My picture of Indonesian workers had been that they are generally non-union and that this is a state of affairs maintained by companies seeking to keep wages low and a government keen to attract foreign investors. In fact there are more prosaic reasons why few Indonesians are union members:

  • Firstly, most people (about 70%) work in the informal sector and are not paid a wage or salary that could form the basis for collective bargaining. Moreover only a minority of the other 30% are employed by overseas-owned interests;
  • Secondly, labour activists have had the advantage of overseas donors for a long time and do not seem to have adjusted to the need for revenue from member dues.

[T]he availability of large amounts of external funding from international sources made the difficult work of due collection unattractive, especially for large trade unions (p.171)

many trade unions have yet to establish effective and transparent internal processes or to raise enough money through dues to fund day-to-day union operations (p. 165)

Lastly I was surprised by the similarity to the flavors of unionism here in Australia, despite differences in culture, governance and economy: the corporatists (here: the ACTU-ALP under Hawke; there: the FBSI-Golkar), the Revisionists who want to focus on union objectives but not broader political ones, and the Marxists who are, well, the same everywhere.

The book is available on Amazon.com:

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Thought-provoking article about bridging the ‘solidarity divide’:

ClockWhen we talk about poverty; the prevalence of poverty, or about the poverty rate, these days we are usually referring to the accepted definition, which is invariably determined by income level.

The academic book Discretionary Time: A New Measure of Freedom, authored by researchers at the Australian National University (plus one colleague in Finland) suggests that we should broaden that definition.

By remarkable coincidence, the message of the book is allegorised in the recent science fiction film In Time starring Justin Timberlake and Amanda Seyfried.

‘Discretionary Time’ starts with the hypothesis that time-poverty is more than just a figure of speech, it is real. There are people working well over 40 hours a week to make ends meet. They do succeed, and their household budget is in balance, but at the personal cost of most leisure time. Their discretion to do as they please in life is limited so they might as well be regarded as poor; they are no better off.

The majority of the book consists of empirical study which does confirm the hypothesis, and also an extended analysis on the effect that marriage and divorce have on people’s discretionary time (generally: marriage increases it while divorce decreases it disproportionately for women, in most countries).

This is troubling reading.

Over a century ago, the workers of the then-industrialising nations fought hard for a working day divided between “8 hours work, 8 hours rest and 8 hours leisure”. After this was achieved, the rise of large-scale leisure time had a significant impact on economic development, too, as people went out and spent money and also began to educate themselves and improve their knowledge and skills.

Today we find ourselves in a situation where poverty, narrowly defined by money, affects maybe 1 in 8 or 1 in 6 of the population, however time poverty (having to work more than 40 hours a week to make ends meet) affects 1 in 3 or 1 in 2 -and that’s in the rich world! Think of the people working 70- or 80-hour weeks in the EPZs of China and Southeast Asia and living, single in dormitories.

The only criticism I could make of the book is that it does not acknowledge the existence of people who work long hours but enjoy their work and wouldn’t work less even if they had the option. Human Resources people tell us that about a third of the workforce is ‘actively engaged’ with their jobs, so a significant minority. That may not be enough to willingly work more hours at the expense of one’s free time of course.

Which brings me to the film.

If any film captures the gestalt of 2011 and the Occupy Wall Street movement, it is In Time.

The conceit is that, at some indeterminate point in the future, all human beings become installed with a clock that counts down to the moment of death. Everyone gets one year of time on their 25th birthday but after that, they have to work for which they are paid extra ‘time’. It is not stated but pretty clear from the film that regular wages are not enough to keep an individual comfortably ahead of their count-down. Most people end up begging or stealing for extra time; in debt, essentially. The protagonist and his mother live with only one day’s credit; a hand-to-mouth existence.

The plot grows thicker: there is not upper limit on the amount of time a person can have and, sure enough, it turns out that there are restricted areas where a small number live with thousands of years of time; effectively immortal. Moreover it emerges that they intentionally restrict the supply to keep this state of affairs.

The analogy to the 99% movement, executive pay and so on is pretty clear.

It is a very thought-provoking film and well-acted too. It seems to support a Robin Hood tax solution, though you would have to call it a Bonnie and Clyde tax if you know the scene.

See also:

Anyone remotely interested in workers’ rights in the developing world should get this book! Because it is self-published by Globalisation Monitor it does not appear in Amazon and probably few people in the big developing economies have seen it. It is really easy to get a copy – GM sells it for a song or you can simply download it in PDF format off their website.

Clearly this is not a book written to make a profit; it’s been written because the story is just so extraordinary and needed to be told.

The book describes the appalling neglect of the operators of the Gold Peak battery factory in Huizhou in China’s Pearl River Delta Manufacturing area, whose workers suffer cadmium poisoning after coming into direct contact with the poisonous chemical. The workers largely self-organise to find justice, bypassing the official union and going directly to the authorities and to the press. Only very late in the game do they receive support from groups across the border in Hong Kong. It is all rather tidy: The owners of Gold Peak and their major customers are in Hong Kong, only a few dozen miles away from the factory.

I finished the book feeling upbeat for the future of China’s workers. Injustice transcends cultural barriers, and they weren’t going to take it laying down.

The site management had poor health and safety controls from the beginning. Rather like big tobacco, they did not respond to it and tried to duck the issue when workers began to realise something was wrong. For a considerable time workers attempted to obtain cadmium blood level tests only to have the results altered or not released at all. At one point the factory owners even go so far as to conspire with local hospital officials to thwart people attempting to have tests from a third party.

Not directly relevant but one snippet was a revelation for me and may be for other Western readers: Did you ever wonder how China’s one child policy is enforced? It is done through the employer. The paperwork associated with employment includes family planning permits(!) Anyone who has more than one child suffers demotion or dismissal. This is why people in rural areas are less affected – they don’t work for registered employers, they just work their own land, thus the Central Government has no means of interfering.

Astonishingly the mainly female workforce are undeterred by management’s continued ducking and dodging, first striking and then presenting their case to all who will listen including several ministries in Beijing. Their case attracts media attention and thus the assistance of Globalisation Monitor, who organise direct action against Gold Peak and its chairman.

Gold Peak protest postcard

Protest postcard addressed to GP chairman Victor Lo

While GM’s involvement was helpful I was pleased to see that the most effective action occurs when the company is taken to court (in Mainland China, not Hong Kong) and many of the workers receive compensation settlements. It may not be well known outside the country that China actually has comprehensive health and safety laws – they just don’t have many occupational lawyers! The struggle continues though, with many workers still uncompensated, however I’m heartened that it didn’t endwith them being “rescued” by rich-world NGOs. They are finding their own path.

I’ll finish with an extract that I was particularly touched by. It doesn’t relate to the cadmium issue per se but speaks volumes about daily life in the factory:

Just after I put on the face mask given to me by the line supervisor, I saw that my workmate sitting across from me was crying. I was shocked and asked her what was wrong, but she just kept crying and didn’t say a word. Then a workmate nearby told me what had happened.

After SARS broke out in 2003, we were each allocated two 3M masks per week by the line supervisor. When this workmate got her mask, she found it was a little too tight and tried to loosen it, but the tie broke. She asked the line supervisor to trade it for another one, but the line supervisor said, “I don’t have any extras. Go ask the general line supervisor for another one.” The general line supervisor was a well-known grouch, so the workmate was afraid to ask for a new mask. Later, the general line supervisor passed by, saw that she had not started her machine and asked why. When the workmate said that the tie to her mask was broken, the general line supervisor yelled at her, “How could you be so careless! Do you realize that these masks cost money? And you think you can just waste them!” The workmate then started crying. I felt bad for her, went over to wipe off her tears, and said, “Don’t cry over this. If you cry, people will look down on you. Let me see if I can take care of it for you.” I went over to the general line supervisor and said, “Ling, would you do me a favor and exchange this for a new one?” The general line supervisor looked at me and said with a sigh, “Look, I can’t do anything about it. You know the higher managers are stingy with the masks – the line supervisors get one mask every four days.” I said, “Well, you shouldn’t be so harsh. We’re all migrant workers here. You don’t have to act so severely.” Later, the general line supervisor went to console the workmate for a while. As for the mask, I came up with a solution – we made a hole in the edge of the mask and strung it together with a piece of elastic.

Earlier post:

This book is somewhat brief but still fills a niche and might be helpful to teachers and workplace educators.

Robert Hoyk and Paul Hersey’s book The Ethical Executive: Becoming Aware of the Root Causes of Unethical Behaviour is a compilation of 45 drivers of unethical behavior. Some are psychological and some are situational.

It’s quite a long list so quite handy for anyone who teaches in this area to draw on for role-plays or case studies.

Some of the problems described include:

The individual chapters could have benefited from a little more detail, as they breeze through 45 ‘traps’ in just 120 pages. The problems were sufficiently described but what I found surprising was the lack of an attempt to describe ways to avoid or counteract them. This was omitted from the individual chapters and there was no overall conclusion at all, just a case study of the Jonestown incident.

Not to worry. The main benefit of the book is in identifying and naming these various traps because many of them are situations we get into in everyday life, telling ourselves it’s not a big deal because we haven’t been called out about it, or because no dire problem has emerged.

As a reality check, it’s not bad.

Read more or buy the book from Stanford University Press

Although he never describes himself as such, Kelsey Timmerman is the all-American kid (despite being aged 29 by the end of the book). He is no political theorist. He is a Midwesterner out to enjoy life, taking his time finishing university and working leisure-oriented jobs in between so he can enjoy the great outdoors.

He follows the news, though, and is aware of the existence of sweatshops. Somewhere along the way, it began tickling at his mind that the sporting apparel he is passing over the counter to people might have been made under inhumane conditions but he has no way of knowing it.

So he goes to find out and the result is this book, Where Am I Wearing? A Global Tour to the Countries, Factories and People That Make Our Clothes

The book is a tale of his six-month journey through garment manufacturing centers in Bangladesh, Cambodia and China, looking for the makers of his favourite flip-flops, jeans, t-shirt and boxers.

It contrasts with another book I’ve reviewed, Belching Out the Devil, in that Kelsey does not have a predetermined action plan. He’s not out to ‘nail’ anyone in particular. It is simply a chronicle of his own journey from naiveté to understanding.

One thing that he is very clear about: boycotting is not the solution. Bad as the factories might be in Western eyes, many who can’t get a job there end up garbage-picking in the rubbish dump. That is inhumane.

He also realises that companies who want to take the high road will either go out of business(!) or end up taking the low road eventually, e.g. Levi Strauss who asserted during the nineties that they would never send jobs offshore.

In the end he endorses consumer engagement as the best way forward. Consumers have the power to support companies who make a genuine effort to, firstly, be transparent about the conditions in their supply chain and, secondly, improve them where possible.

Lastly I have to mention one fact that left me gobsmacked: There are over one thousand development NGOs operating in Cambodia!