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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?

Niroshan: why don’t you do your work in an orderly way? And listen to

something I say! 1 ‘cunt’2 General Manager

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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

(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

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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 ‘union-

substitution’ 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,

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

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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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

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

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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.

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

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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

(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

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(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.

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

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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

shared cultural understandings of ‘spiritual possessions (Ong 1987). These studies were

significant in reconstituting workers as active participants in historical economic processes, who

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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

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

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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.

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

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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:

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.

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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

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 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. 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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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

girls will get new information and use it against them. They said we did not love

the boss, who loved us.

7 This assertion is based on interviews with unions and labor NGOs.

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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 19 th 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

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

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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. 80-

82% 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

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’

16

(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

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

17

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

(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

8 Slightly hhigher than average wage in other factories

18

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

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

19

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

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

20

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

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.

9 Mate, buddy, very informal and slang term usually used between men.

21

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:

...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

22

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

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):

23

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.

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

24

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

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!”

10 Jaya was from my mother’s village in Southern Sri Lanka.

25

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

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

11 To resign, as per labor law.

26

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:

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

12 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!”13 From the Labor NGO Niveka14 General Secretary of the Free Trade Zone General Services Union

27

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.

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 15Rajika worked at Atlas Gloves before it closed, where the workers engaged in a bitter protest over closure and compensation.

28

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:

“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:

29

“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

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:

30

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

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.

16 Entreaty, little sister17 Sri Lankan new year in April

31

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.

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:

32

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.

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)

33

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!

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

34

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:

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

18 Buddhist ceremony

35

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

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

19 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.

36

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.

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.

37

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.

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.

38

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

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

20 To clock out

39

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

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

21 Edu de cologne was used as a simple household remedy for headaches

40

understood as a form of representation, participation, articulation of employee concerns and two-

way 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

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.

41

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

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

42

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:

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

43

enacted her everyday struggle to be heard, and to change the circumstances under which she

labored.

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