Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Saturday, January 28, 2012
On the General Sense of Defeat
In general, a man will tend to invite an excuse for his not giving a shit. The recent increase in discussion about the unacceptable working conditions at Foxconn illustrates this point nicely. The Chinese electronics manufacturing company – which makes our iPhones, iPads, Xboxes, and other fancy gadgetries that we have come to love – exploits their workers in a way that would likely not be tolerated in our society. The unfortunates who put our phones together are underpaid, overworked, and kept in disagreeable conditions. The working environment is so bad, that a number of workers have resigned themselves to leaping from the rooftops of the buildings they work in (Foxconn has responded, in part by installing nets); just recently, three hundred workers threatened to do the same.
There are more details than I can provide here (I recommend the January 6 episode of This American Life, “Mr. Daisy and the Apple Factory”), but suffice it to say that the workers at Foxconn are exploited, and they are treated unjustly. I suspect that the acknowledgment of this will probably meet something like a consensus amongst those familiar with the situation at Foxconn. Certainly there are places where workers are treated with more nastiness, yet, this need not justify the working environment at Foxconn; substandard is still substandard, and that it is a condition manifested in degrees need not give reason for issuing any pardons just yet.
Even when we agree about the facts at hand, we seem less capable in coming to the knowledge of what to do with such facts. That is, when I discover that the phone I use or the computer I am now typing on are the results of exploitative, unjust means, I also find that I can barely answer the question, what am I to do about it? It seems to me that this question is more pressing than the one that asks whether it is even possible to do something, as this latter question can only be answered after serious consideration has been given to the former; only after I seriously explore the putative options before me, can I detect their actual likelihood. That the latter question is often disaffirmed without a genuine consideration of the potential responses to the first seems to me an indication that doing so is simply an excuse for inaction. Regardless, it is hard to squelch the intuition that tells us that we are incapable of really doing anything to end exploitative practices.
But let us first ask ourselves what it is that we should do. To begin with, perhaps there are some political channels that one could use to the worker’s advantage. Maybe you and I can write our congressperson, demanding legislative action. There could be laws that ought to be implemented that would keep businesses like Apple from using manufacturers that treat their workers poorly. At any rate, if there are already such laws, they ought to be tightened or enforce with more vigor. But our cynicism immediately gets the best of us here (some are more libertarian than cynic, thinking it not the government’s job to impose more and more regulation on business, but that is another discussion entirely). It seems to us that the benevolence of governments tends toward large corporations in the first place, and if some of these corporations want their workers exploited, especially those whose workers are not even on American soil, then they just will be. So you can write your various representatives all you want, but you don’t have his or her ear. The average American stands in relation to her political system in much the same way that she stands to the solar system. The inner workings of the machine are completely indifferent to her, unaffected by her grumbling and complaining; there is nothing that she can do to alter the machine’s course, so she ought to focus instead on what she can change.
Another option may go as follows, while I may not here be able to manipulate the political system to the worker’s advantage, I, as a consumer, have a sort of power. I could commit myself to not purchasing anything from companies that rely on injustice and exploitation. That’s right, I can boycott the bastards. Perhaps if I, in chorus with other consumers, demand via our boycott that Apple change their dreadful ways, they will have no choice but to do otherwise. But here again, we are ultimately led by our cynical intuitions, for we feel that it is highly unlikely that a bunch of hipsters are going to quit buying Apple products. While we may think that it would be nice if everyone took a boycott against Apple seriously, we find that the majority of humanity is incapable of such a principled act of defiance. Regardless, it is hard to see how this could function as an objection to the thought that I ought to do something here. As Peter Singer put it (“Famine, Affluence, and Morality”), if others and myself are gathered around a small pond where a young child is drowning, and no one else is doing anything about it, am I any less obligated to help? The answer of course is that I’m not, even though my conscience might find repose in the thought that no one else was doing anything either.
So let’s say then that (a) we don’t expect any governments to help end exploitation and (b) we don’t expect our fellow citizens to join us in a good old fashioned boycott. This may well be adequate support for our intuition that we cannot effect true change. But there is still the pesky question of what I am to do about it; regardless of the lack of action on the part of my fellow citizens, is there anything that I should do? Not only may I engage in my own personal boycott where I refuse to purchase products from companies like Apple, I could go the extra step and rid myself of all Apple products that I currently own. I could sell my phone, computer, and iPad, and give the money to an organization that works to end exploitation.
Certainly one can do these things, but it makes sense to wonder whether one is morally required to do so. Sure, a personal boycott is the sort of action that, if followed by a multitude of others, very well could bring about change. However, we have already decided that this is exceedingly unlikely to actually take place. Still, in the face of this, by enacting my own personal boycott, I am not participating in a process that I find morally unacceptable. And even if others will not follow, I can say with confidence that I truly do care about the ill-treated workers at Foxconn, as I will not be involved in the perpetuation of their exploitation. While I cannot by myself put a stop to the practices at this factory, my refusal to be involved in the whole situation is indeed a principled moral stance. And if that is all I can do, so be it. But upon forming this resolution, I am met with the most troubling result of all – that I am inconsistent. For electronics are not the only possessions of mine that came to me via exploitation: many of the clothes I wear, the oil-based products I use daily, and the food I eat, involve exploitative practices at some point in their production. If I rid myself of exploitation-dependent electronics, surely consistency demands that I act analogously in the other areas of my life! So what, if anything, am I to do?
I suppose that I could start by gathering information on the companies that I get my stuff from. I could educate myself on a whole host of businesses and their practices, and be led thusly towards a lifestyle of ethically aware consumption; many people locally have already set out on such an excursion. But as always the faithful comforter, Cynicism is there to lend consolation to the frustrated, yet determined moral agent. Sure, he says, you can buy electronics from just manufacturers, be mindful of where your clothes were produced, and know from whence your meat and vegetables originate. But you will still find that your worries have only just begun, as: (1) you will spend more money doing these things. It is no secret that organic products cost more than the alternative, which is a problem if you don’t make very much money. If you don’t spend money on high price, exploitation-dependent products, (2) you will be stuck buying junk. You know they still make flip phones, right folks? And who wants to own one of those things? Now, (2) seems obviously false when it comes to purchasing clothes, as there are a number of places in the Oklahoma City metro where one can buy stylish clothes that didn’t come out of a sweatshop, all one needs to do is a little research to find these retailers. But, going back to (1), many of these sweatshop-free clothing items cost a not insignificant amount of money too.
Still, (3) this sort of lifestyle places a high demand on the consumer. The time and energy spent making oneself a conscious, consistent consumer will be taxing. Many people find that their lives are too busy to pay attention to where their every meal and article of clothing comes from. But this is not what (3) is truly getting at, for the real worry here is that my life, without all the exploitation-dependent goodies, just won’t be as fun and interesting. Our iPads, laptops, and sweatshop skinny jeans make our lives more enjoyable. So while it is all very sad about the unjust means used to produce such luxury items, why should we take it as a reason for our feeling bad too? These products improve our lives, so why shouldn’t we procure them? If no one buys this stuff, the exploited worker’s labor would be in vain, right? For my part, I don’t see how any of this is an objection to the idea that we ought to do something differently about our consumption of morally questionable goods, though I am aware that this train of thought has persuaded many, including myself. If I don’t think that ethically conscious consumption is fun and interesting, shouldn’t I force myself to change what I find fun and interesting?
Still, modestly put, (1) and (3) taken together uncover the sad fact that it may be very hard, or even impossible for many of us to be consistent in these matters. I wonder if consistency is even possible with regard to purchasing electronics. Is there a phone or laptop of good quality that is produced in humane conditions? ‘Tis doubtful. But then why should it not follow that we ought not have anything to do with these items, rather than reside ourselves to moral defeat? Perhaps we are not capable of true, absolute consistency, why should we not forge ahead, doing whatever we conceivably can to become as consistent as possible? The answer to this question is the same to the one that asks why it is that we are so inclined to look for excuses for our inaction. Because ultimately, morality just isn’t that important to us; it’s at least not as important to us as we like to think that it is. And the same goes for consistency too.
There are those who may think this conclusion harsh, or my views bleak. Mankind is naturally caring and generous, one may say, and the frustration that people feel toward their lack of options for effecting change stems directly from the fact that they most certainly do, in general, give a shit – we would change the working conditions of those treated unjustly if we actually could! I have almost no idea how to respond to such jaunty optimism, as it seems plainly mistaken to me. But I can admit this: we certainly want to want to care. We don’t give a shit, but we sure think it would be swell if we did.
There are more details than I can provide here (I recommend the January 6 episode of This American Life, “Mr. Daisy and the Apple Factory”), but suffice it to say that the workers at Foxconn are exploited, and they are treated unjustly. I suspect that the acknowledgment of this will probably meet something like a consensus amongst those familiar with the situation at Foxconn. Certainly there are places where workers are treated with more nastiness, yet, this need not justify the working environment at Foxconn; substandard is still substandard, and that it is a condition manifested in degrees need not give reason for issuing any pardons just yet.
Even when we agree about the facts at hand, we seem less capable in coming to the knowledge of what to do with such facts. That is, when I discover that the phone I use or the computer I am now typing on are the results of exploitative, unjust means, I also find that I can barely answer the question, what am I to do about it? It seems to me that this question is more pressing than the one that asks whether it is even possible to do something, as this latter question can only be answered after serious consideration has been given to the former; only after I seriously explore the putative options before me, can I detect their actual likelihood. That the latter question is often disaffirmed without a genuine consideration of the potential responses to the first seems to me an indication that doing so is simply an excuse for inaction. Regardless, it is hard to squelch the intuition that tells us that we are incapable of really doing anything to end exploitative practices.
But let us first ask ourselves what it is that we should do. To begin with, perhaps there are some political channels that one could use to the worker’s advantage. Maybe you and I can write our congressperson, demanding legislative action. There could be laws that ought to be implemented that would keep businesses like Apple from using manufacturers that treat their workers poorly. At any rate, if there are already such laws, they ought to be tightened or enforce with more vigor. But our cynicism immediately gets the best of us here (some are more libertarian than cynic, thinking it not the government’s job to impose more and more regulation on business, but that is another discussion entirely). It seems to us that the benevolence of governments tends toward large corporations in the first place, and if some of these corporations want their workers exploited, especially those whose workers are not even on American soil, then they just will be. So you can write your various representatives all you want, but you don’t have his or her ear. The average American stands in relation to her political system in much the same way that she stands to the solar system. The inner workings of the machine are completely indifferent to her, unaffected by her grumbling and complaining; there is nothing that she can do to alter the machine’s course, so she ought to focus instead on what she can change.
Another option may go as follows, while I may not here be able to manipulate the political system to the worker’s advantage, I, as a consumer, have a sort of power. I could commit myself to not purchasing anything from companies that rely on injustice and exploitation. That’s right, I can boycott the bastards. Perhaps if I, in chorus with other consumers, demand via our boycott that Apple change their dreadful ways, they will have no choice but to do otherwise. But here again, we are ultimately led by our cynical intuitions, for we feel that it is highly unlikely that a bunch of hipsters are going to quit buying Apple products. While we may think that it would be nice if everyone took a boycott against Apple seriously, we find that the majority of humanity is incapable of such a principled act of defiance. Regardless, it is hard to see how this could function as an objection to the thought that I ought to do something here. As Peter Singer put it (“Famine, Affluence, and Morality”), if others and myself are gathered around a small pond where a young child is drowning, and no one else is doing anything about it, am I any less obligated to help? The answer of course is that I’m not, even though my conscience might find repose in the thought that no one else was doing anything either.
So let’s say then that (a) we don’t expect any governments to help end exploitation and (b) we don’t expect our fellow citizens to join us in a good old fashioned boycott. This may well be adequate support for our intuition that we cannot effect true change. But there is still the pesky question of what I am to do about it; regardless of the lack of action on the part of my fellow citizens, is there anything that I should do? Not only may I engage in my own personal boycott where I refuse to purchase products from companies like Apple, I could go the extra step and rid myself of all Apple products that I currently own. I could sell my phone, computer, and iPad, and give the money to an organization that works to end exploitation.
Certainly one can do these things, but it makes sense to wonder whether one is morally required to do so. Sure, a personal boycott is the sort of action that, if followed by a multitude of others, very well could bring about change. However, we have already decided that this is exceedingly unlikely to actually take place. Still, in the face of this, by enacting my own personal boycott, I am not participating in a process that I find morally unacceptable. And even if others will not follow, I can say with confidence that I truly do care about the ill-treated workers at Foxconn, as I will not be involved in the perpetuation of their exploitation. While I cannot by myself put a stop to the practices at this factory, my refusal to be involved in the whole situation is indeed a principled moral stance. And if that is all I can do, so be it. But upon forming this resolution, I am met with the most troubling result of all – that I am inconsistent. For electronics are not the only possessions of mine that came to me via exploitation: many of the clothes I wear, the oil-based products I use daily, and the food I eat, involve exploitative practices at some point in their production. If I rid myself of exploitation-dependent electronics, surely consistency demands that I act analogously in the other areas of my life! So what, if anything, am I to do?
I suppose that I could start by gathering information on the companies that I get my stuff from. I could educate myself on a whole host of businesses and their practices, and be led thusly towards a lifestyle of ethically aware consumption; many people locally have already set out on such an excursion. But as always the faithful comforter, Cynicism is there to lend consolation to the frustrated, yet determined moral agent. Sure, he says, you can buy electronics from just manufacturers, be mindful of where your clothes were produced, and know from whence your meat and vegetables originate. But you will still find that your worries have only just begun, as: (1) you will spend more money doing these things. It is no secret that organic products cost more than the alternative, which is a problem if you don’t make very much money. If you don’t spend money on high price, exploitation-dependent products, (2) you will be stuck buying junk. You know they still make flip phones, right folks? And who wants to own one of those things? Now, (2) seems obviously false when it comes to purchasing clothes, as there are a number of places in the Oklahoma City metro where one can buy stylish clothes that didn’t come out of a sweatshop, all one needs to do is a little research to find these retailers. But, going back to (1), many of these sweatshop-free clothing items cost a not insignificant amount of money too.
Still, (3) this sort of lifestyle places a high demand on the consumer. The time and energy spent making oneself a conscious, consistent consumer will be taxing. Many people find that their lives are too busy to pay attention to where their every meal and article of clothing comes from. But this is not what (3) is truly getting at, for the real worry here is that my life, without all the exploitation-dependent goodies, just won’t be as fun and interesting. Our iPads, laptops, and sweatshop skinny jeans make our lives more enjoyable. So while it is all very sad about the unjust means used to produce such luxury items, why should we take it as a reason for our feeling bad too? These products improve our lives, so why shouldn’t we procure them? If no one buys this stuff, the exploited worker’s labor would be in vain, right? For my part, I don’t see how any of this is an objection to the idea that we ought to do something differently about our consumption of morally questionable goods, though I am aware that this train of thought has persuaded many, including myself. If I don’t think that ethically conscious consumption is fun and interesting, shouldn’t I force myself to change what I find fun and interesting?
Still, modestly put, (1) and (3) taken together uncover the sad fact that it may be very hard, or even impossible for many of us to be consistent in these matters. I wonder if consistency is even possible with regard to purchasing electronics. Is there a phone or laptop of good quality that is produced in humane conditions? ‘Tis doubtful. But then why should it not follow that we ought not have anything to do with these items, rather than reside ourselves to moral defeat? Perhaps we are not capable of true, absolute consistency, why should we not forge ahead, doing whatever we conceivably can to become as consistent as possible? The answer to this question is the same to the one that asks why it is that we are so inclined to look for excuses for our inaction. Because ultimately, morality just isn’t that important to us; it’s at least not as important to us as we like to think that it is. And the same goes for consistency too.
There are those who may think this conclusion harsh, or my views bleak. Mankind is naturally caring and generous, one may say, and the frustration that people feel toward their lack of options for effecting change stems directly from the fact that they most certainly do, in general, give a shit – we would change the working conditions of those treated unjustly if we actually could! I have almost no idea how to respond to such jaunty optimism, as it seems plainly mistaken to me. But I can admit this: we certainly want to want to care. We don’t give a shit, but we sure think it would be swell if we did.
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