Fast Food Nation - Eric Schlosser [160]
Having shown a strong commitment to the ethical treatment of animals, the McDonald’s Corporation should now demonstrate the same level of concern for the ethical treatment of the human beings who work in the nation’s slaughterhouses. After the publication of Fast Food Nation, the photographer Eugene Richards and I visited meatpacking communities in Texas for Mother Jones magazine. We were appalled by what we found: conditions even worse than those in Nebraska or Colorado, conditions that bring to mind the worst abuses of the nineteenth-century Beef Trust. In Texas, the big meatpacking companies don’t have to manipulate the workers’ compensation system — they don’t even have to participate in it. Texas is the only state in the union that allows a company to leave the workers’ comp system and set up its own process for dealing with workplace injuries. Taking advantage of that unique opportunity, IBP has established a remarkable system there. When a worker is injured at an IBP plant in Texas, he or she is immediately presented with a waiver. Signing the waiver means forever surrendering the right to sue IBP on any grounds. Workers who sign the waiver may receive medical care under IBP’s Workplace Injury Settlement Program. Or they may not. Once they sign, IBP and its company-approved doctors have control over the job-related medical treatment — for life. Under the program’s terms, seeking treatment from an independent physician can be grounds for losing all medical benefits. Workers who refuse to sign the IBP waiver not only risk getting no medical care from the company, but also risk being fired on the spot. The Texas Supreme Court has ruled that companies operating outside the workers’ comp system can fire workers simply because they’re injured.
Today an IBP worker who gets hurt on the job in Texas faces a cruel dilemma: sign the waiver, perhaps receive medical attention, and remain beholden, forever, to IBP. Or refuse to sign, risk losing your job, receive no help with your medical bills, file a lawsuit, and hope to win a big judgement against the company years from now. Injured workers almost always sign the waiver. The pressure to do so is immense. An IBP medical case manager will literally bring the waiver to a hospital emergency room in order to obtain an injured worker’s signature. When Lonita Leal’s right hand was mangled by a hamburger grinder at the IBP plant in Amarillo, a case manager talked her into signing the waiver with her left hand, as she waited in the hospital for surgery. When Duane Mullin had both hands crushed in a hammer mill at the same plant, an IBP representative persuaded him to sign the waiver with a pen held in his mouth.
The recent purchase of IBP by Tyson Foods has created the world’s biggest and most powerful meatpacking firm, with the largest market share in beef and poultry, the second-largest in pork. The Tyson/IBP merger fulfills every independent rancher’s worst nightmare about being reduced to the status of a poultry grower — and portend even faster line speeds at meatpacking plants. In order to complete the purchase, Tyson Foods had to assume $1.7 billion in debt. As a result, the new meatpacking colossus will likely be under great pressure to ship as much meat as possible out the door.
Over the past year, the McDonald’s Corporation has proven, beyond any doubt, that it can force its meatpacking suppliers to make fundamental changes quickly. If McDonald’s insisted that the large meatpackers improve working conditions and reduce injury levels, these companies would do so. The cost of slowing down their production lines would be insignificant compared to the cost of losing their biggest customer. If McDonald’s can send auditors into slaughterhouses to monitor the ethical treatment of cattle, it can certainly do the same for poor immigrant workers. As to the company’s ability to influence this sort