Sweatshops suck.
Two weeks ago, when Duke's administrators announced a new initiative to ensure our apparel was not made in sweatshops I was happy. The administration was making a worthy pledge to reform. Good for Duke.
When I read that the work largely came out of Students Against Sweatshops' tireless advocacy, I felt a surge of pride that these leaders went to my school. From administrators to professors to students, the campus was united in praise for the group's work. We were all happy to jump on the SAS bandwagon.
To be fair, though, SAS had it easy this time. Everybody wins here; administrators were happy to agree to such humanitarianism. Duke Stores has a monopoly on campus-we are going to buy those sweatshirts regardless of the price. If Duke can advertise responsible apparel production, it's an extra bonus.
I wonder, though, if reform would have been achieved as easily if University officials had not been so happy to acquiesce. After all, SAS has not always gotten such a popular reception on campus.
Just over a year ago SAS was in the midst of a campaign to obtain a living wage and fair representation for the workers of Angelica Corp., Duke University Health System's laundry contractor.
Sweatshops suck, but living below the poverty line and being harassed and mistreated at work right here in Durham sucks too. Angelica employees told SAS and The Chronicle this was happening, and SAS felt it should not have to be that way.
That time, the administration was not so supportive. Angelica had been hired to cut University costs. Despite SAS's cries, administrators refused to seriously demand that workers' grievances were addressed.
SAS was furious. How could the University be so callous? The group decided they needed to make the public aware of the situation.
There was only one problem: no one seemed to care. We scanned the stories, saw SAS protesting, and then went back to frat parties and basketball games. We felt bad for the Angelica workers, but it was not really our problem.
SAS got desperate. Anyone who was present at President Richard Brodhead's address to the undergraduate student body last year remembers the stunt SAS pulled. Members of the group unfurled a banner behind the president and refused to move off stage during his entire speech.
People noticed SAS after the escapade, but it was not positive press. The group was blasted for their disrespect and denounced across campus. I was at the speech, and I thought the act was obnoxious and rude.
I certainly sympathize with the group though. Maybe they went about their publicity campaign in a backwards way, but they assumed that once we learned about the horrors taking place at the Angelica plant, we would be outraged too. We would do something. We would be able to pressure the administration to care. Together we could make things different for Angelica workers.
But that was not what happened. We berated SAS and offered our complete trust that the University would never allow workers' rights to be compromised for the sake of cost-cutting.
Last July the Angelica workers finally did unionize. The company promised to reform. The story had a happy ending, but without the work of SAS we probably would never have seen such an agreement. It certainly was not a mass movement from students that made the difference.
Now we are celebrating the work of SAS. Remembering our rampant criticism from just last year, I feel a bit disingenuous. Shouldn't we be consistent? Are we really such tools of our administration that we will only cheer for our activists when they are on the same side as University policy makers?
SAS does not need our backing when they have the popular support to bring change. Our support matters when the group is taking a stand for what is right but not necessarily popular.
It would be wonderful if we were all engaged citizens and investigated the conditions of workers everywhere. But I know I certainly do not want to make the huge time commitment for that.
Luckily for us, we have SAS. They conduct the research, do the dirty work, and tell us when rights are being trampled. The least we can do is listen.
David Fiocco is a Trinity sophomore. His column runs every other Tuesday.
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