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Representations and Realities of Worker Voice in an Apparel Factory in Sri
Lanka’s Export Processing Zones
Samanthi J. Gunawardana
McGill Visiting Professor of International Studies
Trinity College, Hartford, CT.
Niroshan, the 19 year old Statistical Process Controller (SPC) who was assigned to
assembly line 9 at the Gupta Garments Katunayake (GGK) apparel factory in Sri Lanka’s
Katunayake Export Processing Zone (EPZ), stood beside 37 year old Prema. She was attaching
buttons to the Liz Claiborne pants that were swiftly working their way down the line. After a few
minutes of careful observations, Niroshan kneeled down to suggest a ‘work improvement’ to
Prema who ignored him. When he repeated himself, she told him that it was a silly idea and she
would not follow his suggestion. He walked away angrily muttering “hoothi1!” Prema waited
until he was out of earshot to exclaim angrily,
“Did you hear what he said? That’s the third time he said something like that to
me. I’m going to tell him that if he says it to me a third time, I am going to go to
the GM Sir2 and report it. See if I don’t, if he says it again. I’m just waiting for
him to come down here again to tell him off.
Prema enlisted the assistance of the other surrounding women workers and waited.
Niroshan returned 20 minutes later. Continuing her work, Prema softened her voice and adopted
a semi-scolding tone:
Prema: Niroshan, I have been waiting for you to come over again. Now what was
that word you used with me earlier?
1
2
‘cunt’
General Manager
2
Niroshan: why don’t you do your work in an orderly way? And listen to
something I say!
Prema: That’s not important. What was that word you used? I was going to ask you
whether you were born from a lotus flower. I know I was born from one of those other
things.
Niroshan: I try to tell you improvements to help you and you don’t like-
Prema interrupted him and appealed to the workers surrounding her, who confirmed that
they heard him say it too. Nimna, not slowing her pace of work began to shame him:
Why do you use such words with us? Api oyage akkala (we are your big sisters)
you shouldn’t use such words with us. Pelligana mali, akkala keeyana ahnae.
(understand little brother, listen to what your big sisters tell you).
Niroshan sheepishly retorted, yes, yes. He hovered around the table for a minute and then
moved down the line. Nimna remarked approvingly, hadala gana onei (must reform/mould
them).
This was one of a multitude of exchanges that I observed in 2003 at GGK, where I
engaged in a 12 month ethnographic study of Sri Lanka’s EPZ employment relations system.
Prema’s admonishment and disciplining of supervisory staff were typical responses to control,
supervision and verbal abuse, as workers maneuvered within the margins of formal voice
mechanisms, and day to day interactions in the labor process.
The International Labor Organization (ILO) defines EPZ as “an industrial zones with
special incentives set up to attract foreign investors, in which imported materials undergo some
degree of processing before being re-exported" (Boyenge, 2007). In its 30 years of monitoring
working conditions in EPZs, the ILO notes that there continues to be a lack of “decent work”
created in such zones” (Milberg & Annengual, 2008 p.2).
The exponential growth of EPZs over the past 30 years, in mainly poorer countries in the
Global South such as Sri Lanka has accompanied the implementation of Export Oriented
Industrialization (EOI) models of economic development, and the International Monetary Fund’s
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(IMF) Structural Adjustment Programs (SAPs) prescribed to developing countries in Latin
America, the Caribbean, Africa, South Asia and South East Asia, in return for monetary
assistance in the 1980s-90s. SAPs were influenced by neo-liberal economic principles that gave
primacy to the market while advising the retreat of the state. Emphasis was placed on attracting
Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) to invest, set up production facilities, provide employment and
assist with technology transfer in return for flexibility endowed through incentive schemes such
as tax exemptions, simplified and efficient administrative services, and free or subsidized
utilities. EPZ provided the crucible for this activity.
Deeply embedded in the value chains of Multinational Corporations (MNCs), EPZs
enables global capitalist accumulation through the dispossession of existing labor rights (Harvey,
2005). As sites of “graduated sovereignty” (Ong, Neoliberalism as Exception: Mutations in
Citizenship and Sovereignty, 2006, p. 55) governments can choose to suspend or modify rules
and regulations that apply elsewhere in order to create the right conditions for FDI. This has
proved especially true of laws around freedom of association and collective bargaining. EPZ
employers worldwide exhibit a strong preference for union-free workplaces and ‘unionsubstitution’ methods of eliciting worker voice,3 in contrast to the historical development of
wage labor in the Global North which enabled the emergence of trade unions and social welfare
to protect workers ( (Harvey, 2006, p. 52). Countries such as China, Pakistan and Nigeria have
wholesale restrictions on unions, and others such as Bangladesh, have actively modified laws to
curtail unions (Milberg & Amengual, 2008, p. 33). Unions have been denied entry to EPZs,
while workers who attempted to organize have been dismissed, suspended, transferred or black
listed, in some cases, with violence (Gopalakrishnan, 2007). Where workers are able to form and
join trade unions of their choosing, unions still face restrictions on their recognition as a
bargaining agent, taking strike action or having employers bargain with them (Gopalakrishnan,
2007, p. 1). Moreover, there are low levels of worker participation in decision making processes
involving worker rights, duties or welfare in EPZs ( (Eldarin, 2001).
EPZs are noted for their feminized labor forces. The link between EOI in labor intensive
manufacturing and the movement of women into employment has been documented in Latin
America, East and South East Asia Africa, the Caribbean and South Asia (Ong, 1987; Wolf,
3
A handful of unionized firms can be found in EPZs usually among larger and longer established firms (Milberg &
Amengual, 2008).
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1994; Beneria & Feldman, 1992; Caraway 2007). These studies examine how gender, as a
cultural articulation is embedded into the recruitment decision of firm level employment
systems, the engendering of the labor process and how gender interacts with employment
relations systems to provide disadvantageous conditions for women.
Against this milieu, women workers labouring in the zones have been largely depicted as
‘voiceless’. This is partly because classic Employment Relations literature treats voice primarily
as trade union voice (Freeman and Medoff, 1984) through collective bargaining, formal
collective representation and worker participation and because of a monolithic representation on
oppressed ‘third world women workers’ along the global assembly line (Mohanty, Russo, &
Torres, 1991).
This paper seeks to delve behind the representation of the ‘voiceless woman worker’
along the global assembly line and seeks to present the day to day reality of how voice is
negotiated on the factory floor in Sri Lanka’s EPZs, where women make up 75-80 percent of the
workforce. This paper is based on longitudinal ethnographic study from 2001-2008, including 12
months of participant observation in the GGK apparel factory in the Katunayake EPZ in Western
Sri Lanka in 2003. In addition to observations, the paper also draws on a survey of 101
Katunayake workers outside of Gupta, and interviews with workers, factory officials, state
officials and archival analysis.
Anthropologists such as Aihwa Ong (1987) have examined how women workers resist
factory disciplining of mind and body. In this paper, I am concerned with the act of giving voice
to grievances, rather than the notion of resistance per say, but acknowledge that voice is a
constitutive a part of overt resistance particularly as enacting voice can distinguish between overt
and covert forms of resistance, and the intentionality of acts of resistance. I argue that to
understand Prema’s actions above, we need to understand the broader context of the labor
process to see how voice was deployed in day to day interactions on the shop floor, and the
nature of effectiveness of voice options available to workers in the FTZs, as well as worker
relationship to management. At GGK, workers considered SPCs to be less valued to the
production process than the workers themselves. They referred to SPCs by name or as malli
(little brother) or nangi (little sister), rather than the honorific Sir that was reserved for managers,
or aiya (big brother) used as a sign of respect and affection for supervisors. This would mean
little without understanding the cultural context. Prema and her fellow workers asserted
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themselves using the cultural currency of kinship relations, the notion of respect for elders and
shaming to shift the focus off the production process and the instructions that Niroshan had
initially given her.
Prema reclaimed the gendered insult that Niroshan hurled at her, and
reframed it as a positive attribute. The orthodox approach to voice is unable to capture these
subtleties, and as a result, produce inaccurate representations of women along global assembly
lines in EPZs.
The paper is structured as follows. I first review the literature on voice and women
workers along the global assembly line. I then provide background information on Sri Lanka’s
EPZs including working conditions before presenting data on the types of voice mechanisms
available to workers in the zone. Particular attention is paid to the lack of trade union voice. I
then turn to GGK and outline the provisions that management made for voice, before
highlighting the way in which women workers viewed and utilized these voice mechanisms. Far
from being voiceless, the workers were engaged in a struggle for voice in the workplace and
manoeuvring within the official voice channels and informal means through the labor process. I
then offer some conclusions.
Employee Voice & the Labor Process.
In orthodox Employment Relations and Human Resource Management literature in the
Anglo-American tradition, “employee voice” involves representation, participation and
articulation of employee concerns and grievances, or suggestions and contributions to decision
making in the organization (Freeman, Boxall, & Haynes, 2007). Depending on their preferences
(Bryson, Gomez, & Willman, 2006) employers sets up institutions, processes (Marginson,
Edwards, Edwards, Ferner, & Tregaskis, 2009), mechanisms, structures, practices (Lavelle,
Gunnigle, & McDonnell, 2009) to enable management and employees to communicate with each
other. Voice is influenced by contextual factors such as the tenor of relations between
management and workers, the overall employment relations system, legislation and other
statutory limits or political climate, and importantly, it is grounded in notions of organizational
citizenship, democracy, free speech and human dignity and hence the relations of power within
an organization (Budd, Gollan, & Wilkinson, 2009). However, workers can make demands for
voice mechanisms such as calls for trade union recognition in a workplace.
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Collective union voice has traditionally been treated as the default and superior voice
mechanism (Budd, et al, 2009, p.3). Freeman & Medoff (1984) drawing on Hirschman’s 1970
research on the exit-voice-loyalty framework where dissatisfaction is expressed by quitting or
complaining, found that unionized workers were much less likely to quit because unions provide
a voice mechanism and loyalty effects that mediated the choice between exit and voice. The
success of union voice however, was dependent on the nature of interactions between unions and
management, rather than the mere existence of the union. Union representation has declined
significantly over the past 30 years. In a survey based study spanning the US, Canada, the UK,
Ireland, Australia, and New Zealand, Freeman et al (2007) found that other than in the public
sector, unions are no longer the default option for worker voice. Moreover the success of the
voice regime was dependent management, labor, and the institutional structure within which they
operated. The national political climate compounded the problem in countries such as the US and
Australia (p210).
Mechanisms that are non-union or substitutive of union practices can minimize employee
dissatisfaction without ceding authority to a union (Purcell & Georgiadis 2007). Such
mechanisms include joint consultative committees, works councils, participation modes such as
‘town-hall’ meetings, team briefings, involvement group, or problem solving teams (Freeman et
al 2007, 3). Participation can encompass group process or individual, formal institutions or
informal day to day relations, a process and a result (Heller, 1998, p. 15). Participatory forms of
voice have become popularized over the past 30 years with the diffusion of Human Resource
Management (HRM) which stress high commitment or High Performance Work Systems
(HPWS) strategies. HPWS require greater information sharing, consultation, involving
employees in decision making, and soliciting feedback (Budd, Gollan, & Wilkinson, 2009, p.
33). Unions are perceived as outsiders to the employment relationship, and as such hinder
relations between management and employees. Voice becomes a productive tool to engender
loyalty to the firm, and to enable employees to apply their skills and knowledge to contribute to
firm success.
In contemporary workplaces, different forms of voice coexist (Bryson, 2004). Dundon et
al (2004) identify four different manifestations of voice: individual dissatisfaction aimed at
problems with management; collective organization which is a counter to management power;
management decision making which is concerned with efficiency and productivity improvements
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(coupled with HPWS); and mutuality of interests, which are partnerships between employers and
employees, aimed at the long term viability and sustainability of the organization. Lavelle et al
(2009) found that MNCs use all forms of voice but weaker mechanisms are more prevale They
identified four different approaches such as indirect, dualistic (direct/indirect), direct voice,
minimalist approach. The approaches to voice adopted depended on country of origin, sector EU
directive and date of establishment. Interestingly, in a simulation with business students, Harlots
(2009) found that situational factors such as gender, work self-esteem, relative hierarchical
power are key determinants in using formal voice mechanisms. Such studies show that voice
arrangements reflect distribution of power and influence within the organization the legislative
framework of the country, and how factors such as gender can impact on actualizing
organizational citizenship, democracy and free speech
A number of studies have approached the issue of employee voice by examining what
workers want. Freeman et al (2007) found that workers in Anglo-American contexts wanted
traditional union based representation, and this demand was greatest among workers who are
vulnerable or who have severe workplace problems (i.e. young workers, lower income workers,
and those with many labor problems). However, no single mode of employee voice such as
unionism can fit the needs of all workers. Workers endorsed the growth of management driven
involvement and showed a strong preference for the expansion of more cooperative styles of
voice that would also help improve firm performance. Conversely, Cretan & Brown (2009)
found that union membership affected member’s willingness to participate in a joint consultative
council. Union members did not differentiate between joint council voice from union-based
collective voice, and were willing to participate to extend boundaries of consultation. Non union
members did view the joint council as a less sectional and cheaper alternative to the union. Van
Dyne, Ang and Botero (2003) argues that just as employees exercise voice and engage in
participation, at other times, they are silent and withhold their ideas, information, and opinions.
They conclude that withholding their voice does not indicate the lack of voice, but a choice
based on varied motivation such as fear or cooperation.
Voice is important to the study of the labor process. Braverman’s Labor and Monopoly
Capital (1974) centered on the removal of employee participation and voice, via technology to
deskill both manual and service sector workers. In Burawoy’s (1984) seminal account of factory
regimes, workers in despotic regimes were dependent on wages with little state intervention.
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Worker voice was absent as management acted in an arbitrary fashion and workers had no way
to defend them from management or indeed from the market. Where the state was present in
providing some welfare and regulating industrial relations, the element of coercion was removed,
to be replaced by consent. Such hegemonic factory regimes control and elicit consent through
favorable management policies towards employees, including providing voice options for
employees.
In both types of factory regimes, there is the assumption of voicelessness - directly in the
case of the coercive or despotic regime, and indirectly as a form of ‘false consciousness’ or
consent in the hegemonic regime. Assumptions about voiceless labor in feminized EPZs have
been grounded in assumptions about subjectivities that are seemingly predisposed towards
consent rather than coercion, rather than political action through union organizing. For example,
Tang (1980) argues that for workers in peripheral economies, workers status as non-traditional
workers and transiency, created failure for the evolution of union consciousness and hence,
voice.
However, as Mckay (2006) points out in his study of the Philippines EPZs, such models
are at pains to explain the nuances between consent and coercion. McKay adopts theories of
flexible accumulation to highlight the shift from the Fordist focus of Burowoy’s analysis to the
contemporary period which is distinguished by fragmented markets, Global Value Chains and
neo-liberal governance that shapes the production processes in EPZs. In a developing country
without the formal capacity to discipline MNCs or substantial welfare states, firms can choose
consent based regimes without actually choosing a ‘high road’ model of HRM that places value
on voice. Rather, consent comes in many forms. Some firms were able to capitalize on labor
market segmentation, and the structural advantages of EPZ work, local formal and informal
institutions to get workers to ‘coercively consent’.
Moreover, EPZ workers have not turned out to be pre-disposed to remaining voiceless
regardless of structural constraints. Gender based studies demonstrated that these new
employment opportunities along the global assembly line produced new spaces for the creation
of identities and resistance. Around the world, workers have utilized ‘weapons of the weak’
(Scott 1987) such as coordinated slowdowns (Pena 1987), stealth assistance of other workers
(Rosa 1994); appropriated managerial gendered or racialised ideas to slow down work or find
time away from the factory floor (Hossfeld 1990), or disrupted production process through
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shared cultural understandings of ‘spiritual possessions (Ong 1987). These studies were
significant in reconstituting workers as active participants in historical economic processes, who
responded to, and even transformed micro processes at the workplace. Moreover, they went
beyond the class-based agency embodied in trade union voice to highlight the political
significance of cultural resistance and personal dignity.
One of the key questions around the resistance of subordinate or subaltern groups is
intentionality (Ortner 1995:175). For example, ideological struggle as conceptualized by
Burawoy was intended to achieve an effect; that is, transformation of production relations or the
wage effort bargain. In contrast, the intent behind cultural struggle is not always, clear, and
changes through time and action. Meanwhile, voice as it is conceptualized in Employment
Relations is always intentional, even silence (as per Van Dyne et al). Voice is a strategy available
through management design which enables workers to put forward ideas, opinions or grievances,
presumably for the purpose of changing something within their work environment. How can this
intentionality of voice in Employment Relations, be reconciled this with observations of cultural
strategies by anthropologists who argue that resistance may indeed be strategic, but
transformative only sometimes, and self-limiting in other contexts, or indeed, simply
accommodating?
More recent studies have reported that women do not only engage in cultural struggle,
but organize based on the intersection of class and gender interests, albeit not necessarily in
unions. Women workers have engaged in wildcat strikes, or formally attempted to organise even
where labour organising was curtailed or suppressed (Tirado 1994; Rowbothom & Mitter, 1994;
Mendez 2005; Gunawardana 2007). These organizing attempts not only include trade unions,
but NGOs seeking to represent the interests of workers often to a wider set of actors other than
employers. However, these workers continue to face structural blocks to union formation in EPZ.
This is where the labor process can yield some important insights.
Background: Sri Lanka’s Export Processing Zones & Working Conditions
First established in 1978, Sri Lanka’s EPZs are managed by an autonomous
administrative body set up by statute, the Board of Investments (BOI). The BOI acts as a
municipal council over EPZ territory, reports directly to the President, and has been lead by
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prominent entrepreneurs since the late 1990s. Its task is to oversee all investor services including
the administration of incentives. In addition, the BOI is also responsible also for Employment
Relations within the zone, from advising investors on labour and industrial law, to handling
grievances and complaints, resolving disputes, monitoring compliance to laws and BOI
guidelines, and fixing wages, and labour standards.
EPZs are subject to all employment and labour laws in Sri Lanka (approximately forty
labor statues), and the BOI Guidelines on Labor Standards. Labor laws have been altered several
times to accommodate work in the export-oriented sector. In 2003, the Factory Ordinance Act
1942 was amended to allow 60 hours of overtime per month; earlier it was 100 overtime hours
per year. Law enforcement falls under the purview of the Labor Department and the BOI itself
carries out inspections. In the past, there was evidence that the Department’s inspectors were
hindered (Gunatilaka, 1998). Moreover, there was a drop in the number BOI inspection between
1999-2003 in Katunayake (BOI internal report) although factories continued to send employment
statistics and factory records to the BOI.
A key issue has been the enforcement of laws in EPZs in relation to freedom of
association (Gunatilake 1999; Compa 2003; Gunawardana 2007), even after an amendment was
passed to the Industrial Disputes Act Bill in 1999 which outlawed discrimination against unions
and made it mandatory for employers to recognize a representative union if at least 40% of
workers were members of the trade union. Factories such as Fine Lanka, North Sails and
Jaqalanka have faced bitter and protracted campaigns for union recognition (Gunawardana
2007).
EPZ employers have exhibited a preference for women workers, based on gendered
perceptions of their docility, political inactivity and predisposition for sewing (see Lynch, 2007;
Hewamanne 2008). Based on my survey data, in 2003 the typical worker was an unmarried
Sinhalese and Buddhist woman with an average of 11 years of education. She first migrated to
the zones at 20-21 years of age, from an impoverished rural village in the North Western,
Southern, Central Provinces. The parents engaged cultivation, petty trading, micro business or
were unemployed and their average household income was Rupees 4915 (US$43.15). After
coming to work in the zones 79% reported that they contributed in some way to the household,
through remittances, or helping build or make improvements to their family homes, and helping
with sibling education.
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In Katunayake, workers shared rooms with other workers in privately run boarding
house, paying up to paid up 13 percent of their salary for board. The conditions of the rooms
varied, however workers uniformly complained about the lack of facilities, cleanliness and
space, and the potential for conflict.
Overall, workers felt safe at work - they had enough space, ventilation and equipment,
and the machines were inspected daily. The main challenges they faced in the factory were time
related, such as working without notice, meeting targets, and not having enough leisure time or
breaks. Leave was difficult to get even when entitled to it. Although working hours and overtime
differed across the factories, workers labored on average 72.2 hours (including overtime) per
week.
The average take home pay was Rs 6300.40 (US$55.31) including overtime, but
excluding other bonuses and allowance. This wage was higher than comparable minimum wages
outside of the zones, but lower than the Median Household Income for 2002/2003. Their income
did cover all day to day expenses but majority of workers were satisfied with their job because it
enabled them to live independently, remit to their families and engage in consumption. Most
believed that they did not have an opportunity to learn any new skills on the job and were also
pessimistic about promotion opportunities.
In terms of voice mechanisms reported by workers surveyed and in extended interviews,
these included: speaking to a staff member, personnel manager, or supervisor; submitting a
complaint to a complaints box and Worker’s Council (WC). Some factories had a special
‘counselor’ designated to monitor and look out for worker problems, including personal
emotional problems. The most commonly utilized voice mechanism as reported by workers was
going directly to a staff member, personnel manager or HRM manager.
81 percent surveyed reported that they had a WC and just over half of the surveyed
workers reported representatives were selected by secret ballot. Workers selected representatives
who knew “how to talk” (kathakarana), that is, those they believed were confident and articulate
to communicate with the management. Some also reported that management selected the
representatives. Workers utilized the WC to bring up issues such as existing wages, uniforms,
trips, targets, supervisors, food and holidays:
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We have a worker’s committee. This is [for] if we have any problems. We can
speak via them and get out problems solved…if our supervisor is too forceful, we
can talk about things, like problems that we have, if the [canteen] food is no good.
However, only 41.5 percent of workers surveyed believed that WC was effective for
representing worker views:
Some problems are solved in favor of management. Like wages and some things
like that. Like we can talk and ask for a 15% but they will give 12%.
Interestingly, less than a third of workers received information about grievance
procedures, collective bargaining and dispute settlement procedures established within the
enterprise, despite this being a requirement of BOI Labor Guidelines to employers. Moreover,
less than a third received information about social security schemes, and only a half of the
surveyed works received information about consultation and representation. Given that most
labor stoppages recorded by the BOI involved disagreements over social security schemes, this is
significant (BOI Stoppages Register)4. 7.9 percent of workers surveyed believed that there were
adequate grievance procedures in the workplace, and only 10.9 percent of surveyed workers
reported that there was adequate consultation of workers in the decision making process. 33.6
percent of workers believed that management was ‘selfish’ and did not think of workers or
consult them. Indeed, workers perceived that management didn’t take their suggestions or made
decisions before going through the motions of consultation.
When voice mechanisms such as the WC failed to yield worker’s desired results, workers
resorted to strikes. 18.1 percent of surveyed workers reported that they took part in some form of
collective protest since coming to work in the zone, most common being a strike (11.88%). 159
work stoppages were recorded between 1994-2003 by the BOI.5 Overall, the number of
4
Of 159 stoppages reported in the BOI work stoppages register, only 6 cases were sent to the Commissioner of
Labor (Colombo or Negombo), 7 involved the Department of Labor and 12 cases also involved the joint intervention
of the Department of Labor and the BOI. In the other cases, the BOI acted as a facilitator and mediators to the
getting the parties to settle. According to the KEPZ employment relations director, this was because the court
system was seen to take too long, and management wanted a quick settlement. The BEPZ manager was of the
opinion that “Investors do not like dealing with them [unions], so we have to interfere.
5
During fieldwork, I given access to the BOI’s Industrial Relations department’s own Stoppages Register for the
period 1994 -2003 for Katuanayke. This information has not been available before and I was given access to it on
the provision that I did not reveal the name of the factories recorded in the register.
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stoppages declined over a ten year period, as the number of workers involved increased. The
majority of these strikes lasted one day,6 with most over the last few years lasting a matter of
hours. While some of the stoppages were propelled by union organizing, many of the shorter
duration ones involved only workers, and only women workers (Industrial Relations Manager).
In voicing grievances via strikes, worker’s goal was not the wholesale structural transformation
of the workplace and employment relationship, but maintaining existing rights. 62.3 percent of
stoppages occurred over unpaid wages, bonuses or EPF/ETF contributions. 42.5 percent of the
stoppages were pertaining to issues of harassment or firing of fellow workers.
If striking failed, workers would then approach a trade union or labor based NGO to
assist them7. Interestingly, workers used the terms Trade Union, WC and various NGO names
interchangeably. All of these groups were seen as depicting their interests, but why did workers
wait until a crisis point had been reached? The majority of workers in the survey did not believe
that they had a right to form a trade union; only 8 workers responded in the affirmative. Less
than 5 percent of the sample reported that they had been approached by a labor based NGO or
trade union. Similarly, when asked if they themselves had approached any of the groups for
assistance with a workplace matter, only three workers responded in the affirmative, and none of
these were a trade union. Some workers expressed negative attitudes towards unions, including
closure to leadership positions, or as dangerous as they were liked to political parties. Some
workers believed that there was a lack of solidarity between workers to form a union.
However, workers were aware that trade unions existed. Those who knew they had the
right to form an independent union couched it in terms of rights. They expressed that
management could not stop or prevent them from joining, and that they had the freedom to join.
Workers joined the union to get help ‘solving’ their problems in the workplace, but felt
constrained by management:
…from the factory we got the message that we shouldn’t form a trade union. They
sent a survey asking us whether we belong to the trade union or not/. So we said
yes. Then they asked us why? So we said to get our problems solved. They got
angry and they did not like it. They think that they will lose their power, that the
6
I counted one day as the working day (e.g. 8am -5pm) or a full 24 hour period. 15stoppages had no recorded
duration.
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girls will get new information and use it against them. They said we did not love
the boss, who loved us.
EPZ employers engaged in direct and indirect ways of minimizing union involvement.
Direct strategies include asking workers to sign contracts stating that they will not engage in, or
encourage others into disruptive behavior, harassment and intimidation of union members, and
their outright dismissal The biggest problem facing union organizers in the zone were: non
recognition as a bargaining agent; union busting; management utilizing welfare type HRM
practices, death threats, and harassment such constant surveillance of known union members,
punishments such as increased workload (Gunawardana, 2007). Yet, some workers maintained
their membership:
Some people think that we don’t need them [the union]. But we have the
experience from our factory closing and we got compensation because of them.
So I say for the most part, you should [join]. Because if your factory closes, you
get some relief [Anula].
Workers reported that trade unions were useful for assistance during strikes, preparing
strikes, for advice, representation and advocacy after a problem, as well as gaining information
which they found empowering. During these times, workers were very active in their
participation of union activities.
Gupta Garments, Katunayake
GGK was a part of the Sri Lankan family owned Gupta Group of companies, originating
from a single commercial operation set up in the late 19th century. The Group consisted of firms
involved in the manufacture of garments for export, tourism and real estate. Employing over
9,000 personnel, the Group had an annual turnover of 2.5 billion rupees (US$21.95 million) in
2003, and was one of 15 top garment exporters in Sri Lanka (Jayatileke 2004). In 1978, Gupta
opened GGK in the newly formed KEPZ, with 5 assembly lines, 150 sewing machines and 250
7
This assertion is based on interviews with unions and labor NGOs.
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staff and workers in 1983. By 2003, the factory had to 16 assembly lines, with 700 sewing
machines and approximately 1200 personnel.
GGK produced garments for leading apparel brands such as Nike, Liz Claiborne, Gap,
Baby Gap, Tommy Hilfiger and Marks and Spencers. It was a modern factory, which
incorporated technologies such as Eton and Switch Track System, Electronic Data Information
systems, Computerized Embroidery facilities (Barudan) and Gerber CAD/CAM. GGK was
certified for ISO 9001-2000 towards the end of 2003 by Bureau Veritas Quality International
(BVQI).
During the time of research, the factory faced a number of competitive pressures,
particularly in terms of the phase out of the Multi-Fibre Agreement (MFA) which had helped
secure markets for the Sri Lankan apparel sector. One of GGK’s responses was to institute
HPWS into the organization. A part of this strategy was to introduce a new management team
into the organization in 2002.
GGK employed between 1000-1200 people at any given time, subject to fluctuations. 8082% the cadre at GGK was women, reflecting the overall trend for female employment in the
EPZ. There was a pronounced gendered division of labor; women populated the sewing machine
and ironing workstations and men occupied technical and managerial positions. The production
workers formed the most homogeneous group within the factory, with the majority being
Sinhalese Buddhists, aged between 18 and 25, and unmarried. However, there were also a
number of locally drawn older workers representing a slight variation on the widely reported
dominant demographic profile of EPZ workers. 85 percent of all employees were single;
approximately 91 percent of women assembly lines workers were single. 98.7 percent of the
workforce was ethnically Sinhalese. A mix of religions was represented including Buddhist,
Hinduism and Christianity, with the majority being Buddhist. 46 percent of personnel drawn
from the local Gampaha district; 54 percent were drawn more rural locales throughout the island.
Women workers were discursively identified as children ; they were referred to as lamai
(children) and ‘girls’ by managers, staff, supervisors and workers themselves referred to all
assembly line workers as lamai. Lamai is a non gender specific Sinhalese word for children. This
shaped associated expectations of behaviors: obedience, acquiesce to counsel and guidance
offered, and respect for one’s elders/superiors. Management at GGK tapped into hegemonic
16
Sinhala Buddhist notions about rural village life, gender and child socialization to discursively
construct these attributes.
De Mel (2001) highlighted that the ideal image of Sinhala Buddhist femininity in the 20 th
century arose as a part of the nationalist project which located the village as the locus of
authentic, pure and morally superior culture and tradition. Post colonial ‘rubrics of respectability’
(De Mel, 2001:107; De Alwis, 1997) which were themselves a hybrid of “local patriarchal values
and British Victorian ideals” (Hewamanne 2008:29) were recast as skills necessary for not only
factory production but particularly for garment production. Sewing in Sri Lanka is seen across all
ethnic and class divisions as essentially a feminine skill. Hewamanne reports that this was
because the work “required neatness, concentration, patience and precision…central to molding
respectable, decent and moral women” (p20).
Added to this gendered social expectation, the socialization of children in village
communities generally involved a mixture of independence, and dependence, where values of
discipline, respect for parents and elders, mutual dependence is balanced by having to do chores
and run errands independently (Baker, 1998). From a very young age, children are socialized to
show deference to their elders and other respected persons. For example, young children are
taught to vadinawa (worship, show reverence) at their parent’s and other older relative’s feet
(including older brothers and sisters) - such behaviors are considered the markers of a well
bought up child (Baker, 1998) and a marker of respect which is a core value of community
relations. At Gupta, workers referred to their male supervisors as aiya (elder brother) and their
female supervisors as akka (elder sister). The use of sibling terms is a relatively widespread
practice in Sri Lankan culture, and not uncommon in workplaces or schools, across different
class affiliations (see Hewamanne 2002:112). Using familial terms was a sign of respect,
deference, as well as being indicative of relations of power and authority.
Moreover, Sinhalese children are socialized to embody lajja-baya: shame – fear. These
two terms are used together and the internalization of laja-baya can be considered an internalized
disciplinary function. To be baya nethi is explicitly to be without fear. This fearlessness has
been associated with masculinity and violence. For example, chandiya – a thug – is a man who
knows no fear. If to be without fear is send to be a masculine trait, then to be without laja was to
be without modesty. This is a feminine trait that is related to sexual norms in particular. Taken
together, laja-baya socializes children to fear public humiliation and social ridicule so that norms
17
of proper behavior in all realms of life would not be transgressed (Obeysekere, 1984:504-5).
This was instilled into children at a young age regardless of gender or class, although the
preoccupation with lajja-baya is said to intensify, the higher the class positioning, as low class
people are said not to have any status to lose (Obeysekere ibid). Children are socialized early on
with comments such as lajja nadda (aren’t you ashamed?) and mokada minissu kiyanne’ (what
will people say). Related to the feminized notion of laja, rural women were seen to be ahinska.
This term denotes innocence, harmlessness and sexual purity, or “a positively valued naiveté”
(Lynch, 2007:23). Obeysekere points out that this shaming is carried from the household to
school where teachers use this to control their pupils, especially in relation to ‘brashness’,
‘impudence’ and ‘forwardness’ (Jeganathan, p50). As such, Obeysekere demonstrates how
micro-power and authority are replicated in settings that demand discipline (in Jeganathan, p.
50), as in the factory setting at GGK. These gendered ideas underpinned the employment
relations system at GGK.
All personnel had to sign an individual open-ended contract with the organization. The
country’s labor laws and BOI guidelines were used to delineate entitlements, terms and
conditions found in the contract. Office staff, and management were covered by the Shop and
Offices Act (15 percent of the workforce, of which 67 percent were men) while all other workers
involved in the production process were covered by the Wages Board Ordinances (of which only
9.8 percent were men). This set the foundation for a dual gendered system of recompense, hours
of work and other conditions of work.
Production floor staff and workers labored between 69-77 hours per week with overtime.
HRM records showed that at least one assembly line worked each Sunday every month, meaning
that workers got little rest. Workers were often required to work on public holidays, often in lieu
of holiday leave such as New Years or the Country’s Independence Day. These days were called
“covering days”. Essentially, covering was overtime; however, workers were not paid overtime
rates for this work.
There were entry level wage rates for all the occupations in the factory, and much of
wage structure was seniority based, with incentive pay for production floor employees boosting
base levels. GGK never missed payments and they always paid their workers on time. The
remuneration system was considered to be an important part of the retention process, and in
limiting conflict and industrial action. The base monthly wage for workers was Rs. 5,500
18
(US$48.29)8 for sewing machine operators and line-end checkers. It was slightly less for
Helpers, who were considered the least skilled workers on the line. In addition to the base wage,
workers were given incentives in the form of a number of bonuses for attendance and reaching
targets along with overtime pay. Target and efficiency bonuses could be rescinded if in the
process of earning bonuses, there were damages which needed to be fixed with overtime.
Overall, workers may have earned up to Rs 6500- 7000 per month (US$57 – 61). The factory
was in the process of phasing out a ‘voucher’ system of payment, whereby workers received
vouchers for covering and overtime in lieu of money. Other rewards were incorporated into this
system, such as the “presents” (umbrella, tea-time cake, opportunity to purchase clothes
cheaply), designed to endow public recognition to the workers. Other non-monetary rewards
included parties, trips, competitions, religious services, concerts and prize giving ceremonies.
Commendation cards and employee of the month awards were also given.
Workers received a one week holiday for the New Year in April, a long weekend for
Vesak and approximately a week for Christmas. Workers were given 14 days paid annual leave
as per guidelines in the second and subsequent year of employment. Usually these days were
factored around the holidays discussed above. Getting leave was difficult for workers because of
the tightness of production schedules, and one of the biggest causes of perceived injustices
within the factory.
Sewing machine operators and other production floor staff experienced few opportunities
for promotion. While a handful of workers were “stood up” as supervisors, the majority
remained operators. Management expressed little interest in providing promotion and
development paths for production workers, save those geared towards increasing sewing skill
and efficiency. Given the expectation of a short-term tenure at the factory, management believed
that women workers were not interested in promotion opportunities.
I did not observe any instance of Labor Department or BOI inspections. The factory did
send monthly reports to the BOI, reporting employment figures, break down by gender,
designation and the hours of work including overtime. The most intense scrutiny that the factory
faced was through the buyer’s audit system and for certification for ISO quality standards.
GGK ran a worker hostel for workers in the Seeduwa village within walking distance of
the EPZ. The residents of this hostel were mainly female production workers, although a number
8
Slightly hhigher than average wage in other factories
19
of lower ranked female supervisory staff such as SPCs also lived there temporarily. Space in this
hostel was limited to 150 places and residence in this hostel was not a mandatory condition of
employment at GGK. Thus, the majority of workers chose not to board there. There were a
number of vacancies, much to the puzzlement and disappointment of management, particularly
as the facilities offered by the factory were vastly superior in terms of cost, cleanliness and
amenities, compared to the boarding houses in the wider community. They employed a “Matron”
to oversee the day to day operations and provide supervision and counsel to the workers.
Workers paid Rs 300 per month for a shared room with attached tiled shower and toilet and an
additional R 50 per month for gas and other utilities used. The hostel was guarded with military
precision, and all visitors had to report to the high walled and gated guard room which operated
24 hours per day. Workers had to return to the boarding house at a certain time, and inform
Matron if they were to be away overnight.
Voice Mechanisms at GGK: Interpersonal Relations as a Voice Mechanism?
The main voice methods sanctioned by management at GGK were: initiating instrumental
emotional ties between supervisors and workers; espousing a management ‘open-door’ policy;
grievance reporting procedure based on the chain of command from the supervisor up; providing
a letter box where workers could put anonymous letters of complaint or grievance addressed to
the director and the GM; a counselor; a factory Employee Welfare and Sports Association; and
the WC. The official process provided for employee voice as follows. Workers should approach
their immediate supervisor. If the matter could not be resolved, then they were given recourse to
the production manager, and then to the labor relations officer, and finally HR. If the dispute was
not solved, then workers were given recourse to the GM. In my time at the factory, I did not
observe any cases where this sequence unfolded.
Senior managers like the GM Vidura Sir and the Director Nimeshu Sir gave their direct
work and cell phone number to workers to demonstrate that they had an ‘open door’ policy. In
rare instances, workers anecdotally reported that they had made a call to the Director, but used
this avenue more often as a rhetorical threat towards other supervisors.
Direct anger,
dissatisfaction and demands that could not be expressed during face to face contact or even in
WC meetings were expressed through the anonymous letter box. Managers treated these letters
20
relatively seriously if there was a threat of disruptive conflict. The HR manager and the GM
attempted to find out who wrote the letter to engage directly with the parties concerned.
GGK were in the process of introducing HPWS into the organization. This introduction
did not explicitly set out to ‘empower’ workers or restructure the way work was. Rather, the
introduction was largely focused on normative integration and solidarity via reorienting into
team-based relations (Sewell 2006:203). In fact, there was no mention of empowerment – in
English or a Sinhalese equivalent. Rather, management focused on fostering close, positive and
personal interpersonal relations with workers as they believed that there was a lack of teamwork
in the factory caused by an underlying ‘gap’ between workers and management. To close the
gap, managers articulated that they, supervisors and other managers needed to ‘get close’ to the
workers:
...you get close to people to get to know their feelings about the company.
otherwise, you are working in the dark, no? (Floor Manager)
This was a form of ‘instrumental personalism’ (Hondagneu-Sotelo, 2007) or ‘strategic
intimacy’, emotional intimacy between employer and workers was encouraged to ensure a
particular gain. At Gupta, managers and supervisors had devised particular ways of instigating
this emotional closeness. These methods were both formal and informal, and involved activities
inside and the firm, building social relations and generating affective bonds between individuals.
The purpose was to ensure team cohesion, reduce inter and intra group conflicts and to instill
greater cooperation. Most importantly, it was designed to offset negative voicing of grievances
and disruptions to productivity. By getting close to workers, they encouraged workers to voice
their concerns, troubles and personal problems, effectively providing a ‘voice’ mechanism to
workers.
Thus, managers encouraged workers to treat them “like a friend’, and they in turn, called
workers machang9 or went out of their way to learn names. Managers gauged whether workers
were close to them by stating that workers ‘spoke their minds’ openly. Strategies to get close to
workers was to organize workplace trips to get beyond the formality of the workplace, finding
9
Mate, buddy, very informal and slang term usually used between men.
21
out about the women’s personal lives, such as their family situation, or supervisors having parties
at home, for their assembly line workers.
Conversely, the factory employed a counsellor. Counselling was tied directly to the HR
function, and outcomes of counselling were tied to productivity. It was a tool to combat turnover
and absenteeism, and part welfare strategy to fulfil corporate social responsibility obligations.
Keeping in line with the framing of workers as children, Manoshi articulated why counselling
was necessary:
They don’t know how to solve problems…for very slight things they create
problems. ..they don’t have a practice of broader thinking. And also sensitive. If
they have a quarrel with another girl at that moment, they want to shift from that
band to another band or they just want to leave. Dissatisfaction from scolding by
supervisor or she feels she can’t do it [the work]. If damages pass, [the worker] self
de-motivate.
The counsellor, Manoshi Miss was instructed by the GM to “get to know workers” when
she initially began. Consequently, she spent time on the factory floor, chatting to workers,
learning about their problems inside and outside of the factory, and told them to come and speak
to her if they had any problems. She emphasized that workers could talk to her about anything
inside the factory, and that she was their advocate. The process of counselling constituted an
intensive inspection of worker’s backgrounds and experiences; Manoshi Miss reported her
conversations with workers to HR, and thus, it allowed management to maintain knowledge
about worker’s outside lives, and in doing so, identify areas of potential disruption to the
production process.
GGK’s policy on trade union representation stated that “employees have the right to
exercise their lawful right of free associations, movements and collective bargaining” and that
GGK will not “encourage an employee to join, refrain from joining, any trade union, or to
withdraw from or refrain from withdrawing his membership of a trade union of which he is a
member, as a condition of his employment”. However, trade unions were perceived to be highly
politicized, self-interested, obstructionist and ultimately not necessary at GGK. Management
attempted to remove the necessity for union via the implementation of HPWS:
22
...Suppose, yes I think it’s good that they go to trade union. But what will happen?
One day they will go to the trade union and the productivity of the organization
will be lost because of some strike or picket. We should not give opportunity to
employees to create unnecessary problems! That does not mean treating them
harshly, we have to take them and identify their needs first before they raise their
hand against the management (HR manager).
Management had set up a WC, which it ran jointly with the Employee Welfare Society
and Sports Club (EWSC). The constitution of the EWSSC expressly stated that one of the
purposes was to dissuade trade union formation in addition to building team spirit, developing
mutual understanding, and identify worker strengths for the benefit of the organization. The
Executive Committee of the EWSA was made up of five managers, 7 staff members from each
department and 5 worker members from the assembly lines. In the WC the president, vice
president, secretary, assistant secretary and treasurer were all drawn from staff ranks, while
workers formed an elected general committee, and were consulted on various matters.
Management tended to treat the EWSC and the WC as equivalent. Meetings for both were
convened at the same time, usually once a month, and as a consequence, the same functions were
carried out by both. Moreover, meetings were scheduled in the afternoon; however worker
attendance was often constrained by production demands.
The GM ran the meeting, with some assistance of the HR manager, and, it operated
primarily for management to communicate their decisions to workers. Workers would have the
opportunity to bring up concerns at the end of the session. Workers also did not speak up freely
in these meeting. This may have been because of the presence of the GM, HRM and at times, the
Director Mr Nimeshu. The militancy that workers demonstrated elsewhere in day to day
encounters and discussions on the need for wage improvements was subsumed by discussions on
non contentious matters such as canteen food, uniforms and a telephone. Moreover, worker
requests or complaints were not always ‘heard’ by management and there was little negotiation.
Representatives felt constrained as they needed to consult with their workers before assent was
given in the meetings. There was little organized communication or coordination by
23
representatives as a group across the different assembly lines, or with other employees such as
the mechanics.
However, while the limitations of the WC were acknowledged by workers, there was
common assent that worker representatives should be able to speak well (kathakarana), lack fear
(baya nethi) and know what they are talking about (i.e. had experience of the factory and were
knowledgeable of rights):
Pick someone who can talk about anything, someone with a bit of a mouth. We
select among ourselves and nominate here. She goes to that. They go and tell
worker’s problems. If it is a problem like needing a leave or something other
than that, no other type of problem has been solved (Shanika)
Thus, as a voice mechanism, the success of the WC depended upon individual worker
representatives and their confidence in negotiating with managers, than built in structural access.
Despite its limitations, the issues covered in meeting were important to workers.
Although discussions were limited to non-contentious matter, the issues covered included
date of company parties or outings, work calendars, annual holidays, ‘covering’ hours, planned
overtime, bonus payments and incentives, buyer requirements such as wearing of identification
and protective uniforms such as head coverings and masks, food and the canteen, machine faults
and other housekeeping matters. These were all important in the day to day lives of factory
work, and as such workers attempted to engage management on these matters.
The final voice mechanism that I observed towards the end of 2003 were problem
solving production teams made up of top performing workers (in terms of output and quality),
staff and supervises to involve workers in problem solving and give workers voice. These teams
were run after official working hours to discuss topical problems such as damages, absences and
tardiness. Most of the time was dominated by uncomfortable interaction between workers and
office staff, with workers remaining largely silent unless explicitly asked for their opinions.
However, as I only observed the early meetings, I cannot comment on the effectiveness of these
teams as voice mechanisms.
Exercising Voice: from the informal everyday to writing anonymous letters.
24
The most common form of voice on the factory floor was apparent in the micro actions of
‘speaking back.’ Gupta workers exhibited strong class consciousness and a sense of ‘us and
them’, particularly as they gained more experience in the workplace. The most common way that
it was expressed was by calling themselves “podi” (little) and management loku (big, plural) or
loka (big singular). For example, for a period of about one week in June, Ruwan, the assembly
line 9 supervisor had been focusing his attention on Jaya. One afternoon, he periodically yelled
at her to mahana, mahana, mahana [sew, sew, sew], like the rapid fire of a machine gun. Why
are you letting work pile up? He kept this up all morning, although she has been continually
sewing on target - 80 pieces per hour. Suddenly, he told Jaya that she had to sew 90 pieces per
hour. She answered back that this was impossible, wasn’t she already killing herself to sew the
80? He told her to be quiet and sew.
Angrily, Jaya sped up her pace. She declared that after today, she would not come back to
work. “Just because we are poor doesn’t mean we should be trampled on!” Turning to me, she
appealed, ‘you know what people from our10 village are like. Api kawruwath wellata yata wella
inna” (we do not stay beneath anyone/we are not subservient to anyone!). The other workers
around her consoled without interrupting their workflow: ‘Ruwanta pissu!” (Ruwan is mad).
Jaya asked, ‘What does he think we do in there? We sew! We’d like to see them sew. Loku loku
minisisu wadi wella padi ganawa (big big people sit and collect their pay).” Jaya was adamant
she would quit. The refrain, ‘we work because we are poor’ was oft repeated when workers
experienced a sense of disempowerment, a threat to individual and collective dignity and when
experiencing injustice or unequal treatment.
In the ethnographic moment above, we see the interplay between both defiance, and
compliance. Ultimately, despite her attempts at voicing her concerns, she resorted to the threat of
exit to register her ultimate class based critique, and assertion that the poverty that pushed her
into work should not be a reason for her dignity to be compromised.
Workers quit for a number of reasons including alternative employment (migrating
overseas), getting married, childcare issues, illness and personal problems, the work environment
and work related issues. Like Jaya, workers reported quitting when they felt their dignity was
10
Jaya was from my mother’s village in Southern Sri Lanka.
25
compromised. This built up over a period of time, with one particular incident triggering the final
decision. As a worker from line 8 tearfully declared to me:
“I am not going to stay here long. All the time, they hitha thalana wadde ganna
(crush the mind to get work). They yell and scold to get work. Because we are
poor we work!”
A strong sense of shared identity among workers based on friendship as solidarity was
also important in informally enacting voice. For example, Renu, one of the band 9 helpers had
been experiencing difficulty in keeping up with preparing the waistbands for a pair of Liz
Claiborne pants. As a result, five other workers who had been keeping up to speed with their
own targets were helping her at that spot. Ruwan, noticing this, stopped them from doing so and
scolded Renu. When she answered back, to defend herself, Ruwan furiously demanded that she
report herself to the floor manager’s room. We could see her in the glass walled room
overlooking the production floor, crying, her head down as the floor manager admonished her.
Back on the line, there was an intense discussion about the incident.
Poor Renu!
She didn’t do anything.
It’s not her fault, Ruwan doesn’t understand.
Maybe they are making her write and sign a letter!11
Jaya was becoming increasingly angry. Prema suggested in passing that they should
follow her into the production manager’s room as well. “He shouldn’t have called just Renu into
the room.” Jaya and Nilmani agreed. Jaya stood up (breaking her flow of work), and asked if
anyone else will go with her to the room. Prema agreed and got up. Nimna continued working.
Nilmini got up as if to go but when Prema and Jaya walked away, she walked back to her desk,
sat down and continued sewing.
We watched the other two go into the room. As Prema stood back respectfully, Jaya
began to talk, but was soon standing in the same posture as Renu. About five minutes later, Jaya
11
To resign, as per labor law.
26
and Prema returned. Nilmani asks her what happened, and Jaya did not respond. When asked
again, Jaya snapped without looking up: my friend said she would come but didn’t.
Such moments demonstrate that workers exercised various forms of voice as the need
arose, on a day to day process, even if their voices were not ultimately heard at the point of
authority. That is, workers tried to challenge the existing power relations and exert their voice
even where voice was curtailed. However, workers did not always exercise this voice in
solidarity with each other. Workers like Nilmani were afraid of being disciplined or getting into
trouble, despite the bonds of friendship12.
Informal worker leaders were important to enacting voice. These women often instigated
action, gave advice and looked after the general welfare of the other workers, had more
knowledge of the workplace and often the rights of workers under labor laws, looked after new
workers as they arrived on the line and helped with socializing them. Band 9’s Rajika explained
her role in the factory as follows:
… no matter what (the problem) they come to me first. They get me to ask Ruwan
and get it [their request] for them. In those instances I help the girls a lot. I talk to
Ruwan and tell him to look into it. I say they are afraid to tell you so they told
me…. If there is a meeting, then even Dilan (senior manager) speaks by saying
Rajika, you are an old worker, you need to take it. Even then the girls who don’t
like me look at me funny, because everyone knows me, all the supervisors,
workers, managers, if you say Rajika, they all know me. Because I talk and talk
against injustice. So all know me. The person who enters [the factory] today,
knows me tomorrow.
Contact with trade unions and NGOs outside of the workplace was important for leaders
like Rajika. She had taken part in trade union activities and had a long history of work. Rajika
explains:
Renu quit soon after this incident: “I was sick and I went home. My parents told me to stay at home. Also, I did
not get on with Ruwan who treated me differently to everyone else. He treated me worse than anyone else on the
band. One time, well, it was the final straw, we all worked until 6pm and we were promised we could leave. So
everyone got up to leave at 6pm. But then he made me go and work on another band!”
12
27
I find out about laws. From Brito and Jayanthi Akka13… I ask them about labor
laws. I ask them if there is a problem like this, how do we face it? How do we
talk if there is this type of problem? I call them, write letters, get their paper. The
Women’s Center. There is Anton Marcus14. They talked on our behalf at the case.
I also know one person from Da Bindu. I know the law. I know a lot about laws
because of Atlas15. That is what I always tell the girls, that we need to know the
law and talk. That is why I am not afraid to talk because I know the law.
Rajika stressed the importance of knowledge to strengthening worker’s ability to voice
grievances and pursue rights in the workplace. What is interesting is that Rajika was not a
member of a union, nor did she advocate forming one at Gupta. Yet, trade unions were seen to
be powerful vehicles for workers to disrupt management authority:
…they have a WC so we do not have a trade union. They would have to do as we
say. Workers would go on strike otherwise. So they have a WC – in name only.
The management makes decisions and does as they please. And pretend to ask us
(Rajika).
However, even workers like Rajika did not join because of time pressures, and the fact
that trade unions were viewed badly by management were the key reasons that workers did not
join:
The way our job is we can’t go…They [management] don’t like to keep
people in the trade union...it is hard. If you say you are in a trade union
they don’t take you. They don’t like to talk about trade unions. There is no
trade union in our factory. So if they knew that I was close to the groups,
they would seek to fire me. They can’t according to the law, but they do.
Because our laws are greatly weakened and all the power is in their hands.
13
From the Labor NGO Niveka
General Secretary of the Free Trade Zone General Services Union
15
Rajika worked at Atlas Gloves before it closed, where the workers engaged in a bitter protest over closure and
compensation.
14
28
Sometimes, I give them [the unions and NGOs] details without my name
or village. When they come to distribute papers, I tell them a word or two
and then they know (Ranjani).
Thus, workers utilized unions and cultivated relations with trade unions and NGOS
outside of the workplace, as best they could within the limitations imposed on them by
employers. These relations were empowering in that they enabled workers to exercise a form of
distant or indirect voice: taking information from trade unions to use when exercising voice
inside the factory in Rajika’s case, or giving information to the unions to publically voice
concerns in Ranjani’s case.
However, this did not stop their immediate concerns, and rather than voice those
concerns, workers took frequent absences. Ranjani explained:
“I take absence because of quarrels, stress, anger, desire to quit. One day
Ruwin came to fetch me [from boarding house]. That day I was
determined to quit…most girls take absence because they yell at us…Cry
and cry when they yell, they stay at home the next day because do not feel
like coming back to it. I don’t come to work because I am tired and lack
sleep. Ruwan said to girls it was because I am a slut, I don’t come to work.
I felt so sad that day. Even when sick I don’t take sick days.”
Workers believed that taking 1-2 absences each month was acceptable, although a few
thought that the four Sundays off per month was enough, and they noted that taking absences
meant forgoing a day of pay, while their absence put pressure on their fellow workers to make up
their lost productivity. Thus, the majority of workers took absences if they absolutely needed to.
The main reasons given for taking absences was: illness, family illness including a child,
weddings, if scolded by supervisor or a death in the family.
Withholding and mobilizing voice was an important mode of resistance for workers in
other ways. When a week before May Day, a rumor passed along the line that May Day would
be a covering day, workers were indignant. The immediate reaction to this was indignation:
29
“They have to give us labor day.”
“It’s a day given to all workers in the entire world!”
“This is just like when we worked on Independence Day! But this is Labor Day!”
Then, the workers began to change track:
“See if we lie on the 2nd!”
The 2nd of the month was a scheduled buyer audit by Liz Claiborne monitors and the
workers had been rehearsed by management in the lies they needed to tell to pass this inspection.
“This is what we should tell them about, in the audit!”
“See if we tell lies then!”
Workers were willing to be complicit in the charade of lying to auditors during the
monitoring exercise. The lies were related to infringements of labor law, labor standards of both
the buyer, BOI and international standards. In exchange for acquiesce workers expected that
their entitlement be delivered to them. This notion of acquiesce as an exchange was best
encapsulated by the comment made by Sandya after she was refused a welfare loan to pay off
debts: “they can kill us for the target but not help us when needed.” Workers here expected that
their loyalty would be rewarded by management upholding their perceived obligations. Rather
than keeping silent, workers would voice the truth of their experiences to the auditors. This
example shows how workers selectively chose to maneuver between voice and silence, loyalty
and resistance.
Such moments of crisis lays bare this tension. In the middle of November, management
made a number of announcements regarding changes at GGK. Vidura Sir was fired as the GM as
he was unable to deliver the gains in productivity required. The production manager Dilan was
promoted to GM in his place. The same day that this was announced, management declared a
series of changes in line with their new cost cutting strategy, to take effect immediately. The
30
changes reduced long service bonuses, cut holiday time, introduced strict attendance and
punctuality requirements, and excluded family and outside friends from attending the annual
Christmas party. The one seemingly positive thing about the changes was the increase incentive
pay for productivity.
I missed work the day that this was announced; when I returned the next day, workers
were eager to tell me about this balu wade (bastardly work/act) by management:
We are going to resign. We aren’t going to work like this. Don’t know
what they will do in the future...all my friends are thinking of quitting
too....Manoshi Miss is no use. She doesn’t even come to hear you when
you tell her a problem and she probably tells others. She is no use. She’s
scared. They are all the same. I am really thinking of quitting. Nathan,
wadak nah mei borru wade (otherwise, no use this false work)! Dilan Sir
is very strict with the target. I don’t know what to think about him. He did
this – the first thing he did after coming…I am not happy about working
on 2 machines and multiple operations. I have to perform 7 operations
[Indika]
Indika’s reflections are important for a number of reasons. First, Indika was thinking of
exiting. Manoshi Miss, the factory counselor, a conduit between management and workers was
seen to be useless or ineffectual in this situation. Moreover, ever since the new management
team had been introduced, workers had experienced an intensification of their work. Taken
together, her job was looking like a “borru wade”. Literally translated at false work, here it also
conveys a sense of “waste of time”, or to be duped in some way.
Overall, workers were critical of the new management team and their practices, and this
incident highlighted their critique, despite the management’s best efforts to present themselves as
friendly, more humane and open to communication:
Girls are saying there is no freedom in work, might as well quit. Can’t
talk to this Dilan…Dilan Sir says, ‘aney nangi16 why do you talk like
16
Entreaty, little sister
31
that?” Nangi! Dilan decided they will pay us our New Years17 bonus in
December. They kept saying nangi, nangi ….! (Lalitha, line 8).
Here, Lailitha was incensed by the way in which Dilan called them all “little sister” while
instituting what they perceived where detrimental policies. Her comments highlighted the
hypocrisy of management action, and also the inadequacy of voice mechanisms. Exiting
presented itself as her only real option.
On lines 10, the workers spoke over each other to tell me that the changes were unfair
and unjust for all the workers:
Before it wasn’t like this. We had loans and so on, bonuses…Girls will
talk to the management about it...see they tell that there’s a discussion
about issues, but they just tell us the decision…we will talk to Nimeshew.
(Nadeeka, Line 10)
Nadeeka was the band representative on the WC. To “talk” meant to voice the issues
management. Nadeeka highlighted how worker voice was permitted in some contexts, but this
was ineffectual in affecting the way things were done, as management would ‘just tell you the
decision’. In the end, she stated that they will talk to Nimeshu the beloved factory director.
Bringing the issue to the notice of, Mr Nimeshu was the apex of appeal for workers grievances.
During this incident, workers even asked me to talk to Nimeshu on their behalf and to
communicate in English, so that management would “really understand” what they wanted.
Workers felt they could not necessarily report grievances to the closest staff or management
because of the possibility of retribution and retaliation from supervisors. Often during grievances
and disputes, workers would threaten superiors (directly or among themselves) that they would
tell Mr Nimeshu about these conditions. They noted that the loku okomu baya eyata (the big
people are all scared of him) and therefore, he held a lot of authority. Because of this however,
workers did not hold the director directly responsible for the conditions that they faced. Rather,
the onus was placed squarely on management and supervisors.
17
Sri Lankan new year in April
32
Rajika’s later suggestion to bring up their dissent at the WC – a move that could
potentially galvanize the WC - and ask Dilan to request Nimeshu to come and speak to all the
workers line by line was not viewed favorably by the other workers because of a mistrust of the
new management team.
Rather than experiencing a sense of teamwork or a close of the gap as had been hoped by
Dilan, workers highlighted that the new regime had been detrimental to workers. Information
was not shared, they felt that Dilan was against workers, and even managers who had initially
exhibited the characteristics of kindness and empathy so valued by workers, no longer did so.
Moreover, the implementation of the new HPWS had intensified work:
I think is not worth working in a place like this. Usually they understand.
Vidura left. We do not know why. When Vidura came, he made the finish
time 15 minutes longer. They always just look at their side, don’t look at
ours. They want to look at advantages for them, and don’t care about us.
There are more injustices now… target is so much we cannot even breathe
anymore. We are stuck here. Because we are poor are stuck here. At
meetings, they discuss their own problems more than about the girl’s.
Manoshi Miss cannot even solve problems. Because they don’t listen to
her, poor thing. She is very nice. We speak to her but she cannot solve our
problems. Like if a problem at boarding house, she tells us to find a new
boarding house. They get a big salary so they do not understand. We get a
small salary so we know. They try to scrape everything from us, from this
little pay we have. (Band 15 worker)
The worker felt that the management did not really care about the workers, understand
their struggles or consider their side; practices meant to help and provide voice mechanisms were
ineffectual. She also felt that although it was tempting to quit, she felt that she was stuck there.
Moreover, she speaks of the exploitation she feels when management tries to cut as much as
possible from the pay that she receives.
33
The choice to exit was mediated by the fact that there was a labor shortage in the zones,
and workers were able to compare conditions between factories with workers in boarding houses
etc:
Girls are thinking about quitting and talking of quitting. I mean here you
get a bit better than other factories but now, why stay on? (Line 16
worker)
We get a very small pay. They cut this from every way…the cost of living
is very high. ½ our pay is a bonus! The attendance bonus is about to be
cut. Need to think of the girls at other factories…I am sad because others
get, but we don’t. (band 15)
The worker below imagined the potential effects of withdrawing their labor, but she
pointed out that to strike would be pointless at Gupta because she did not feel that there was
solidarity among workers:
…we can’t even strike here because lots (of workers) are on the side of
managers. But imagine if we could get it all on our side. Imagine the lost
time. How much they would feel it! If we all went out…at other factories,
there are hours of strikes and they get what they want. Time is such a
precious thing here. If we stopped for 1 hour!
By that afternoon however, workers were called into a meeting to explain that the
changes would not go ahead as planned. Management became aware of dissention through
comments workers made to managers and supervisors on the production line; the tension was
palatable and workers had made informal requests for a WC meeting and threatened to tell
Nimeshu. The women celebrated this as a victory for labor power, as well as management fear of
the director.
Rajika: They are all scared, not they are giving us everything we wanted!
34
Ranjani: They all got scared, because we would tell Nimeshu
Rajika: Yes, look at our strength!
What is revealed at such moments is the way in which workers understood, critiqued and
utilised the available voice mechanisms. The most powerful form of voice as perceived by
workers was their belief in Nimeshu, and the threat of exit. However, at the same time, their
expressions of dissatisfaction on the shop floor stalled the implementation of the changes, at
least, in the short term.
What of other moment in which the tensions of crisis was absent? Workers utilised the
anonymous letter box as a forum for expressing concerns. From September 2002 – July 2003, 52
letters were submitted in total. The letters were addressed largely to the General Manager,
written by a single worker or group workers. Most of the letters were unsigned, or signed with ‘a
worker’. The letters varied in length from one or two lines, to a paragraph, to multi paragraph
letters. The most number of grievance centred directly on supervisor actions towards workers.
Indirect complaints about supervisors included favouritism and allegations of corruption. Other
complaints were related to wages, entitlements and benefits. Workers also commented on
perceived injustices and work intensity. Some workers were careful to express their gratitude
towards their factory and stress that the reason that they complained was out of affection for the
factory. However, at the same time, they told the reader that if things did not change, they would
quit. For example in the letter below (emphasis added), the workers framed their grievances
carefully:
The ones who are writing this letter are those who have been able to live
because of Gupta. Not only us, but our sisters and brothers we send to
school and look after our mothers and fathers by our factory. It is really
because we love our factory we write this letter, because we cannot watch
and tolerate what is happening is why we are writing to you today.
The writer went on to write:
35
Sir, we have had people who have worked here for 7 or 8 years. Now however we
feel that we want to go another factory. Really, it is now a very difficult thing to
work on a line. When you are coming to the line, everyone is quiet and fold their
arms, but when you are not there, what happens. There is no one to look at what
happens… On our line a lot of damage goes sir. That is when there are new girls.
We are the ones that need to give the target. The new girls cannot do their work
properly so the target goes by us. Can we have patience with this? There is no one
to talk about this in our factory. Sir, girls like us bear the load of the work…we
are sick of what is happening in the factory. To go to a funeral house or dhana18,
there is no way to get leave. If we have family problems they do not believe and
there is no way for us to deal with these problems. … We are telling you this
because in the beginning, our factory did many good things for us. We could work
in freedom. The sirs here we could tell our problems and get the work done. If we
had a problem, we could tell them and face the problem. Now there is no one to
look after us and talk to us like that... Now our supervisors, assistants, personnel do
not listen. There is no one to help us solve this....We do not have any trust in the
leaders…and we cannot come to talk to sir about it. Before we not only wrote
letters like this, but we talked to the sir at times. Because the sir was there for all
sides, we could talk and get this solved and we are thankful. We are sure sir can
investigate these issues better than we can. If not, our girls next April will decide
to quit.
What is striking in this letter is not only the complaints made about the increased
workload, and difficulties in getting leave, but also that they lacked an avenue to talk about their
problems. The workers were explicit about their lack of voice mechanisms. Moreover, the
writers reported that they would exit unless their concerns were addressed.
The most number of grievances received were about supervisory staff, either in terms of
their conduct towards workers or in terms of their conduct towards the workplace. In these
letters, workers critiqued both the conduct of supervisors towards them as workers, and towards
the factory as a whole. Some letters requested or demanded that management fire the supervisor
18
Buddhist ceremony
36
written about, for the good of the overall factory. In the letter below, workers utilized a culturally
salient critique on the moral behavior of supervisors:
The biggies are always doing the wrong thing. Then, as they do these wrong
things, they get revenge on others. Loku Akka (big sister), Assistant Rathnayake,
Fatima, supervisor Diliki and Chaminda. Chaminda takes all three [of the other
supervisors] to hotels. So he has lots of help19..They are just pure prostitutes. But
they lord over others…They should be hennagana [a curse, destroyed, literally
attacked by lightening] for this…The best thing would be to fire them and get new
ones…Because of these three whores they are destroying the whole factory.
Here, the workers mobilized tropes of respectability to suggest that certain supervisors
should be fired. The writer accused the three female supervisors of sleeping with the male
supervisor and helping him with his work as a result, which not only violated norms around
sexual behavior, but had detrimental effects on workers. The workers argued that transgressors
should be struck by lightning as a punishment and fired.
Other letters were much more direct about the way that supervisors treated the workers:
When then we come to work in the morning, it is as if we are about to be
taken to be killed. The reason is that no matter what we do, we are
scolded. All of the workers on the line have had enough of this. To work
happily on this line do not put Sashika on the line. She treats the girls like
dogs. We do not want Anura, he says amazing swear words to the girls.
They are so bad that we cannot write them.
In this letter above, the worker highlighted that they worked hard, yet were not
recognized, and were merely scolded. Similarly, the worker highlighted the negative treatment
received from supervisors; to be treated like a dog meant that they were treated without dignity.
Going to hotel is a euphemism for ‘having sex with them”. The workers allege that because of the sexual
relationship, he gets help to complete his work.
19
37
The second most common problem mentioned by workers was getting leave and
holidays:
“We are workers who come from far away. We want the leave for the
New Year. We only get to see our relatives on New Year. At least on
those days, give us the leave to go and spend time with them. To spend
time with parents and brothers and sisters. We only have very few days, so
we will do covering, give us the leave.
Workers reminded management of their migrant status and the fact they would like to
spend time with their loved ones. They bargained for leave by pointing out that they would be
willing to cover those hours lost.
I did not observe the issue of wages being discussed directly with management on the
shop floor (other than critiques among themselves) or every raised in the WC meetings, nor was
it ever given as a reason for quitting during exist interviews. However, workers did write in with
requests and questions about wages and wage related concerns such as bonuses. The letter below
also points out that no matter how productive workers were, the target was difficult to reach (and
hence receive incentive pay):
The bonus is not enough. But there is nothing to do about it. There are a
lot of people who rely on this to live. The target is difficult no matter how
productive we are.
Workers used the word socham to describe their pay (also used in everyday
conversation). This terms for which there is no exact translation, means ‘meager’. It was the
equivalent of saying, ‘we get peanuts for pay’. The letter writes below pointed out the
discrepancies in wage rates for workers and others. The writer remarked how unfair this was
because it was their labor and work that made the factory prospers; they should be treated better
because of this.
38
We do not get a big pay like the big people. We get a socham pay. Those
who steal and waste should be punished. Giving Sunday and night work
should be banned. Those who are unfair to us, we are the ones who make
the factory wealthy. Treat us better.
The issue of inequality of pay was taken up by other writers:
The way the wage rise was given was not good sir. Those who are already
getting a high wage are the ones getting a wage rise. Aren't you going to
increase the wages of everyone else? These sorts of things happen to
people like us because we are sinners.
Being sinners – paowkareyo – invoked Buddhist ideas on merit and karma. That was, in a
past life they accrued bad merit and therefore, were paying for it in this life. Pay inequality was
their karma. Other workers pointed out that the wage was inadequate for living expenses:
I have worked here for 5 years. My monthly pay is now 4900. Sir, I cannot
survive on this, once I have bought a garment, paid for food and given
something for my parents, there is nothing left. Therefore, please
understand this demand.
Another key concern for workers was the general unfair and unequal treatment that they
suffered:
Workers are treated differently. One group is fed grapes and apples and
the other group is treated differently. These managers treat us different and
are corrupt. They steal from our families and make their families rich.
Note the class based critique of labor extraction above. In the letter below, the writer
touched on issues of the contravention of ISO based labor codes, the treatment that they suffer in
the hands of supervisors who act disrespectfully, the unfairness of clocking out and working OT,
and being paid with a voucher, the consequences of management change and the hypocrisy of the
39
teamwork rhetoric. Note also that the letter writers were quick to point out that they wrote the
letter in the best interests of the company and that they themselves progressed because of the
organization. Workers also expressed that there was no one to really address these problems on
their behalf:
…When we start work at 8 in the morning, we do not know until much
later in the day what time we will be staying until. When we work after 5
or 7 pm, we swipe the barcode20 and then work at night. If there is a night,
then we do not have a day of rest. We come to work the next day. Then we
are not paid properly. Then sometimes we are paid with a voucher for 250
rupees for this time. Some work night and go home at 10 but then when
we get our pay in a voucher that is not good. This does not adhere to the
ISO code. We got the ISO and in other big factories with ISO do not work
to this system. The money that is given by the voucher is not counted in
our pay. The other problem that we have is when we work at night, the big
men go out to eat and drink well and come back. On those times they are
drunk and use very severe rude swear words, and we sew without any
complaint and obediently. Only those who work inside can tell you how
ugly that is. There is no one to tell these problems to, no one to hear them,
no one to investigate them. We are trapped. Those people go to big hotels
and drink whiskey, brandy, arrack. Would it be a bad thing to help a
working girl a little? They talk about teamwork. How can you make a
team? They tell us that we should work as a team. But we cannot do our
work if these things do not change. Maybe these problems would never
get solved. Because the director only comes to the factory once or twice a
week. So they do not see this…But now, there is division in the factory,.
They only do good for one group of workers in the factory. There are
workers and managers who do nothing. But even if you go and ask for
some panadol or colone21 for a headache, she [nurse] only gives if she
20
21
To clock out
Edu de cologne was used as a simple household remedy for headaches
40
feels like it, to some. Who will look after these things? We want to be
strengthened to give good work. We need a good leader to help strengthen
us. Let our Gupta factory strengthen.
Workers state that if the issue was not addressed, then they will raise it at the WC or tell
the director:
... If you do not search and take a decision, we will via the WC tell
Nimeshu Sir
Conclusions
This paper sought to examine the representation of the voiceless woman workers and
present how voice is negotiated and enacted on the factory floor in Sri Lanka. Voice has been
understood as a form of representation, participation, articulation of employee concerns and twoway communication between management and employees. It is shaped by employer preferences,
as well as the tenor of management-worker relations, the employment relations system, legal
limits or political climate. With the decline of union density in the Global North, and the
prominence of HPWS, most workplaces now have a mix of voice mechanisms. The absence or
use of voice gives rise to different factory regimes (i.e. Burawoy), or consent regimes without
voice mechanisms (i.e. McKay). Anthropological accounts tell us that even in contexts where
voice is suppressed, workers do attempt to respond to or attempt to transform power relations in
the workplace. In EPZs, traditional voice mechanisms such as trade unions have been curtailed,
while worker participation in decision making processes is low.
As outlined in section 2, EPZs are structured to minimize union voice, individualize the
employment relationship and to channel worker voice through individualized methods, except
for the case of WCs. Survey results and interview data in Sri Lanka revealed that management
attempted to restrict unions, and channel workers into one on one relations with their supervisors
or even counselors. Workers did not believe that these were adequate measures for getting heard,
even when they utilized WCs. As a consequence, workers resorted to exit or strike behavior. If
strikes failed, then workers approached a trade union to assist them in being heard, but that was
because by that stage, management had pushed workers so far out, they did not have access to
what limited options they had within the workplace. Workers believed that unions had efficacy
41
as an instrumental affiliation, a type of ‘voice insurance’. But even this was not enough to ensure
that workers were heard, and workers remained reluctant to join unions for fear of firing or
harassment.
The GGK case study presents a more in-depth look at the enactment of voice. Not only
does this case provide us with micro level data, but the study was conducted as the factory was
attempting to introduce HPWS. First, it is important to note that management attempted to offset
the need for voice mechanisms through selective recruitment, by recruiting women based on
gendered and age characteristics which supposedly made them predisposed to voicelessness.
Second, the voice options made available to workers included utilizing individualized methods
such as chain of command, open door policy and writing anonymous letters. The collective
mechanism was the WCs.
The new management team perceived a lack of voice – or a ‘gap’ between workers and
management - and solicited it, stressing the normative integration of teamwork, and the
importance of individualized personal intimacy with supervisors, or counselors. In addition, the
new management team had also begun problem solving teams. We see the importance of voice
and communication for the new management team as they went out of their way to find out what
workers thought and felt about everything from personal problems to productivity. These
mechanisms also served as convenient surveillance methods, and in the long term, they were
enacted in a way in which worker voice was not really heard by management.
How then did women workers work within these structures? Importantly, workers
remained ‘voiceless’ (lacked representation from trade unions and participation was limited) but
enacted voice in multiple ways. At the level of the every day, workers like Prema in the opening
vignette deployed culturally salient disciplinary techniques of lower order supervisors, while
others enacted voice through talking back, protest and solidarity at the intersection of friendship
and class. There were limits to these methods in enacting change such as when solidarity from
friends was not forthcoming. Moreover, it is important to note that workers sometimes
acquiesced to actions that were detrimental to their interests, such as lying to inspectors.
However, this acquiescence occurred in exchange for their rights as in the case of protest over a
rumor about working on May Day; cooperation would be withdrawn as a protest, and workers
would enact voice by telling the truth about matters to auditors. Here, we can see that voice and
silence can be strategic in the sense that it was utilized to achieve a particular end. Worker’s
42
decision about trade unions was also not a rejection of them as a representative method, but a
pragmatic decision make keeping in mind management’s anti-union tactics
The most common form of voice however, was in quit and absence behavior. Workers
chose to exit the firm as a voice gesture (other than other circumstance such as marriage or
illness) when their problems were not solved, when their dignity was compromised, or there was
no perceived recourse to voice. Workers would rather maneuver within the tight margins of wage
differences and conditions between FTZ factories, than always comply to conditions at GGK.
Absence can also be seen as both protest, and a coping measure. During moments of crisis, we
see how workers enact voice mechanisms for the purpose of enacting some change to their
current situation – utilizing both direct individualized methods such as talking to supervisors to
threatening to exit. Recourse to the factory Director, Mr Nimeshu was perceived to be a powerful
mechanism for workers, even if they did not actively contact him. Importantly, the exercise of
voice in the situations described above, was largely reactive, short-term, and geared towards
protecting and maintaining existing rights. However, in the case of the letters, we can see some
proactive steps taken and demands made.
Although these methods were limited in terms of the transformations that occurred for
workers, we cannot discount them altogether. In 1970, Abdul Momin reflecting on his
experiences as a radical young trade unionist among Bengali jute workers, wrote “There was no
organization. Yet there was great struggle. How indeed could that ever happen?”
(in
Chakrabarty, 2000, p. 155). In EPZs today, there is no organization but great struggle within the
confines of heavily constrained voice mechanisms. As the voices of women workers presented in
this paper demonstrate, it is a struggle for voice, as much as the lack of voice mechanisms that
must be noted in relation to EPZ workers. These struggles do not fit into the neat categories of
‘participation’ or union representation, but they represent a form of voice crafted by workers
themselves in response to and in interaction with their EPZ employers, within the limits of an
employment relations systems designed to overlook their voice.
Finally, what do the limitations on voice tell us about EPZs as globalized workplaces,
and the realities of women worker’s lives? I end this paper with the voice a worker who
submitted an anonymous letter to the GGK letter box:
43
There are a lot of injustices for us. It is as if there is no difference between us and the Juki
machine. It is not that we do not like to work, but there are a lot of problems. The last
week, after we did night [work], the driver that took us home in the van, he went to make
trouble for the girls who got down last. Who will take responsibility for this? It was the
driver. Even after that, did you put in a responsible driver? No. You did not provide
solutions to our problems. You get work from us and then just leave us. We are the sons
and daughters of this country, why does this happens to us? We love our factory. We love
this factory which lets us live in this country.
Even as this worker experienced injustices, and acknowledged that no solutions will be
forthcoming from the management to which she addresses this letter, she wrote this letter and
enacted her everyday struggle to be heard, and to change the circumstances under which she
labored.
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