The victims of sweatshops: Invisible

Cocky as I was with that personal Thai translator and fancy laptop, it was hard for me to interview Chalida. How do you interview someone who just lost her hand? Her resilient smile made things easier, encouraging me to ask for her story.

"I got fired for losing my arm," she says. I double-check with the translator in disbelief — same sentence. The 23-year-old textile industry employee had her right hand severed slightly below the elbow at her workplace due to the malfunction of the heavy machine at which she worked.

"And your PPE [Personal Protective Equipment]?" I asked with naivete worthy of a true tourist.

"I was supposed to get some," Chalida explained, "but of course I didn't." Within days of the injury, she was fired for "negligence" with factory property. No medical coverage or insurance was provided, and her social security entitlements — guaranteed to her by Thai law — disappeared. Since her local union-area group did little more than express regret, taking the case to labor court quickly became out of the question. Her wage had been, of course, well below the pitiful minimum wage mandated by law. Without meaningful savings or employment opportunities, she suddenly faced poverty. In the name of "transparency," the factory to which she gave part of her limb then decided to investigate itself. Curiously, it found nothing wrong, and the famous brand behind it proudly issued a report documenting "no labor-accidents in years" at that work site.

"They just disregarded it," Chalida told me, and the Thai government soon thereafter commended the factory for its admirable zero-accident rate.

Sobered, humbled and frightened, I found myself bereft of tasteful questions for Chalida. Out of anxiety, a silly one finally came out: "How do you feel after all of this?" After a deep sigh, the translator passed on the chilling response: "Invisible."

This is one of dozens of cases I have heard during my two months in Thailand this summer. I was privileged enough — courtesy of the Princeton Institute for International and Regional Studies — to intern with the Solidarity Center in Bangkok. Lost in translation and commotion, I quickly found myself traveling the entire country interviewing workers, union leaders, labor lawyers, occupational safety inspectors and Ministry of Labor officials. I can assure the reader that Chalida's case is anything but unusual. Workers toil up to 20 hours a day, live well below the poverty line, lack basic workplace health and safety conditions, are physically and sexually exploited, are punished for attempts at unionizing and face unnecessary injury, firings, constant fear and even death (I personally learned of at least two job-related deaths in my limited visits). Bear in mind that Thailand is the regional success story and poster child for labor rights standards in Southeast Asia. Sweatshop conditions in Vietnam, Burma, Cambodia and other regional sources of Princeton apparel are no prettier.

Was Chalida working on clothing we wear in the U-Store? Maybe, maybe not. But the overwhelming regularity of abuse and exploitation should be alarming enough. Since these conditions are more often the rule than the exception, the chances that Princeton logo clothing (much of it produced in that region) is made in humane conditions are not too good. Workers in Thailand may be forgiven for feeling "invisible."

But why is this the case?

One answer is that the University apparently remains to be convinced that the Fair Labor Association is anything but the "independent" and "reliable" source it claims to be on the labor conditions of those making Princeton apparel. At the probable cost of giving its students sweatshop goods, the University is failing to look beyond this widely discredited organization for crucial information guiding licensing decisions. For an institution that purports to serve the nation and all nations, Princeton seems remarkably cavalier about this vital question of justice.

For their part, students are expressing great compassion for the "invisible." Those who have petitioned in recent weeks to get Princeton to join the Workers' Rights Consortium will have noticed how shocked most undergraduates are to learn that their T-shirts might be coming from sweatshop labor. Princetonian apathy (to give the hydra-headed monster just one of its euphemisms) is beginning to break down, and not a moment too soon. We can act as if sweatshops are natural c'est la vie tragedies unrelated to our campus "bubble," but surely Princeton can do better than that. Danilo Mandic is a member of the Princeton for Workers' Rights Project and an officer for the Princeton Justice Project. He is a sociology major from Belgrade, Serbia, and may be reached at dmandic@princeton.edu.