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FEATURES 
The noble feat of Nike
Globalisation — otherwise known
as ‘ruthless international capitalism’ — is enriching the world’s
poor, says Johan Norberg
Nike. It means victory. It also means a
type of expensive gym shoe. In the minds of the anti-globalisation
movement, it stands for both at once. Nike stands for the victory
of a Western footwear company over the poor and dispossessed. Spongy,
smelly, hungered after by kids across the world, Nike is the symbol
of the unacceptable triumph of global capital.
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A Nike is a shoe that simultaneously kicks people out of jobs in the
West, and tramples on the poor in the Third World. Sold for 100 times
more than the wages of the peons who make them, Nike shoes are hate-objects
more potent, in the eyes of the protesters at this week’s G8 riots,
than McDonald’s hamburgers. If you want to be trendy these days, you
don’t wear Nikes; you boycott them.
So I was interested to hear someone not only praising Nike sweatshops,
but also claiming that Nike is an example of a good and responsible
business. That someone was the ruling Communist party of Vietnam.
Today Nike has almost four times more workers in Vietnam than in the
United States. I travelled to Ho Chi Minh to examine the effects of
multinational corporations on poor countries. Nike being the most
notorious multinational villain, and Vietnam being a dictatorship
with a documented lack of free speech, the operation is supposed to
be a classic of conscience-free capitalist oppression.
In truth the work does look tough, and the conditions grim, if we
compare Vietnamese factories with what we have back home. But that’s
not the comparison these workers make. They compare the work at Nike
with the way they lived before, or the way their parents or neighbours
still work. And the facts are revealing. The average pay at a Nike
factory close to Ho Chi Minh is $54 a month, almost three times the
minimum wage for a state-owned enterprise.
Ten years ago, when Nike was established in Vietnam, the workers had
to walk to the factories, often for many miles. After three years
on Nike wages, they could afford bicycles. Another three years later,
they could afford scooters, so they all take the scooters to work
(and if you go there, beware; they haven’t really decided on which
side of the road to drive). Today, the first workers can afford to
buy a car.
But when I talk to a young Vietnamese woman, Tsi-Chi, at the factory,
it is not the wages she is most happy about. Sure, she makes five
times more than she did, she earns more than her husband, and she
can now afford to build an extension to her house. But the most important
thing, she says, is that she doesn’t have to work outdoors on a farm
any more. For me, a Swede with only three months of summer, this sounds
bizarre. Surely working conditions under the blue sky must be superior
to those in a sweatshop? But then I am naively Eurocentric. Farming
means 10 to 14 hours a day in the burning sun or the intensive rain,
in rice fields with water up to your ankles and insects in your face.
Even a Swede would prefer working nine to five in a clean, air-conditioned
factory.
Furthermore, the Nike job comes with a regular wage, with free or
subsidised meals, free medical services and training and education.
The most persistent demand Nike hears from the workers is for an expansion
of the factories so that their relatives can be offered a job as well.
These facts make Nike sound more like Santa Claus than Scrooge. But
corporations such as Nike don’t bring these benefits and wages because
they are generous. It is not altruism that is at work here; it is
globalisation. With their investments in poor countries, multinationals
bring new machinery, better technology, new management skills and
production ideas, a larger market and the education of their workers.
That is exactly what raises productivity. And if you increase productivity
— the amount a worker can produce — you can also increase his wage.
Nike is not the accidental good guy. On average, multinationals in
the least developed countries pay twice as much as domestic companies
in the same line of business. If you get to work for an American multinational
in a low-income country, you get eight times the average income. If
this is exploitation, then the problem in our world is that the poor
countries aren’t sufficiently exploited.
The effect on local business is profound: ‘Before I visit some foreign
factory, especially like Nike, we have a question. Why do the foreign
factories here work well and produce much more?’ That was what Mr
Kiet, the owner of a local shoe factory who visited Nike to learn
how he could be just as successful at attracting workers, told me:
‘And I recognise that productivity does not only come from machinery
but also from satisfaction of the worker. So for the future factory
we should concentrate on our working conditions.’
If I was an antiglobalist, I would stop complaining about Nike’s bad
wages. If there is a problem, it is that the wages are too high, so
that they are almost luring doctors and teachers away from their important
jobs.
But — happily — I don’t think even that is a realistic threat. With
growing productivity it will also be possible to invest in education
and healthcare for Vietnam. Since 1990, when the Vietnamese communists
began to liberalise the economy, exports of coffee, rice, clothes
and footwear have surged, the economy has doubled, and poverty has
been halved. Nike and Coca-Cola triumphed where American bombs failed.
They have made Vietnam capitalist.
I asked the young Nike worker Tsi-Chi what her hopes were for her
son’s future. A generation ago, she would have had to put him to work
on the farm from an early age. But Tsi-Chi told me she wants to give
him a good education, so that he can become a doctor. That’s one of
the most impressive developments since Vietnam’s economy was opened
up. In ten years 2.2 million children have gone from child labour
to education. It would be extremely interesting to hear an antiglobalist
explain to Tsi-Chi why it is important for Westerners to boycott Nike,
so that she loses her job, and has to go back into farming, and has
to send her son to work.
The European Left used to listen to the Vietnamese communists when
they brought only misery and starvation to their population. Shouldn’t
they listen to the Vietnamese now, when they have found a way to improve
people’s lives? The party officials have been convinced by Nike that
ruthless multinational capitalists are better than the state at providing
workers with high wages and a good and healthy workplace. How long
will it take for our own anticapitalists to learn that lesson?
Johan Norberg is the author of In Defence of Global Capitalism,
and writer and presenter of the documentary Globalisation is Good,
to be broadcast by Channel 4 on 28 June.
©
2003 The Spectator.co.uk
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