Fast Food Nation - Eric Schlosser [140]
After years of legal wrangling, the McLibel trial formally began in March of 1994. It ended more than three years later, when Justice Rodger Bell submitted an 800-page Judgement. Morris and Steel were found to have libeled McDonald’s. The judge ruled that the two had failed to prove most of their allegations — but had indeed proved some. According to Justice Bell’s decision, McDonald’s did “exploit” children through its advertising, endanger the health of customers who eat there several times a week, pay its restaurant workers unreasonably low wages, and bear responsibility for the cruelty inflicted upon animals by many of its suppliers. Morris and Steel were fined £60,000. The two promptly announced they would appeal the decision. “Mc-Donald’s don’t deserve a penny,” Helen Steel said, “and in any event we haven’t got any money.”
Evidence submitted during the McLibel trial disclosed much about the inner workings of the McDonald’s Corporation. Many of its labor, food safety, and advertising practices had already been publicly criticized in the United States for years. Testimony in the London courtroom, however, provided new revelations about the company’s attitude toward civil liberties and freedom of speech. Morris and Steel were stunned to discover that McDonald’s had infiltrated London Greenpeace with informers, who regularly attended the group’s meetings and spied on its members.
The spying had begun in 1989 and did not end until 1991, nearly a year after the libel suit had been filed. McDonald’s had used subterfuge to find out who’d distributed the leaflets, and also learnt from its spies how Morris and Steel reacted to the company’s legal action. The company had employed at least seven different undercover agents. During some London Greenpeace meetings, about half the people in attendance were corporate spies. One spy broke into the London Greenpeace office, took photographs, and stole documents. Another had a six-month affair with a member of London Greenpeace while informing on his activities. McDonald’s spies inadvertently spied on each other, unaware that the company was using at least two different detective agencies. They participated in demonstrations against McDonald’s and gave out anti-McDonald’s leaflets.
During the trial, Sidney Nicholson — the McDonald’s vice president who’d supervised the undercover operation, a former police officer in South Africa and former superintendent in London’s Metropolitan Police — admitted in court that McDonald’s had used its law enforcement connections to obtain information on Steel and Morris from Scotland Yard. Indeed, it was officers belonging to Special Branch, an elite British unit that tracks “subversives” and organized crime figures, who informed McDonald’s of the pair’s identity. One of the company’s undercover agents later had a change of heart and testified on behalf of the McLibel defendants. “At no time did I believe they were dangerous people,” said Fran Tiller, following her conversion to vegetarianism. “I think they genuinely believed in the issues they were supporting.”
For Dave Morris, perhaps the most disturbing moment of the trial was hearing how McDonald’s had obtained his home address. One of its spies admitted in court that a gift of baby clothes had been a ruse to find out where Morris lived. Morris had unwittingly accepted the gift, believing it to be an act of friendship — and was disgusted to learn that his infant son had for months worn outfits supplied by McDonald’s as part of its surveillance.
I visited Dave Morris one night in February of 1999, as he prepared for an appearance the next day before the Court of Appeal. Morris lives in a small flat above a carpet shop in North London. The apartment lacks central heating, the ceilings are sagging, and the place is crammed with books, boxes, files, transcripts, leaflets, and posters announcing various demonstrations. The place