Just doing it: Jim Keady vs Nike

After some coaxing and reassuring that we were on their side, the workers opened up a little. But they were still holding back. They were careful with the words they chose and with the issues they chose to discuss. I watched them look back and forth at each other nervously with each question, as if searching each others’ faces for the right thing to say, to do. You could see the truth wanted to come out but something was keeping them from giving the whole story. Fear. They were terrified. Scared we were going to take our video and run right to their managers. They wanted reassurance that we weren’t going to throw them under the bus. That they weren’t going to end up unemployed, or worse. The local Mafia apparently also plays a role in this institutionalized bullying. They handle all punishment of detractors beyond termination so the factories can keep their hands clean.

After about an hour of prodding without much success, we decided to call it a night. We went home, unsatisfied that we had gotten the whole story. So we had our interpreter translate a couple of articles about Jim’s story and we brought this and some other information to the same group a few days later. When they realized that we were on their side they changed their tune. They talked about how they were grossly underpaid. How they were afraid to speak up about how they were treated for fear of termination, for fear of the Mafia. And they told us that it’s not just the workers who are afraid, but that the entire factory is run on fear. The workers are afraid of their line managers. The line managers are afraid of upper management. And upper management is afraid of the factory owners, who are afraid that if their factory doesn’t make quota, or has workers that organize, Nike will take their business to some other poor country where people will kill themselves for a dollar a day. Throw in the mob to scare the shit out of everyone and you have yourself quite a racket. It’s a dirty business, but it’s incredibly smart in its simplicity. Keep the people down and you’ll keep your costs down.

The following day we tried to get into a Nike factory in Tangerang, the belly of the beast, so to speak. We were turned away, despite Nike’s alleged policy of transparency, and told that we had to speak with someone in Nike’s local office in Jakarta. So on Friday, we went into downtown Jakarta to the high-rise where the office is located, one of the many beautiful, modern buildings that look oddly out of place here. We were let in promptly by security, given security badges, and asked to wait in the lobby. Jim was once again asked to wear the Nike Swoosh because it was on the badge, much to his chagrin. He shoved it deep down in his pocket.

So we waited in the lobby. And waited some more. After about an hour and a half, a young, attractive, Indonesian woman came out and told us that the person we needed to talk to would be in and out of meetings all day, and that we should call at noon to make an appointment. That seemed fair enough. At least security wasn’t throwing us out by the scruffs of our necks. So we left. And called at noon. Our contact was at lunch. We called again. Our contact was in another meeting. We called once more. Still in a meeting. We were getting the standard run-around, so we decided that we would go back and wait. Around 4:00 we ventured over to the Nike offices for the second time that day, where we were again escorted into the lobby. After about 20 minutes of waiting, an attractive woman who looked to be in her early 30s came out into the lobby and greeted us warmly. She was a very gracious American expat named Tammy who hailed from New Orleans. We exchanged pleasantries and then got down to business.

She was aware of our intention of seeing a factory and aware of our project. She told us, with much trepidation, that Nike was unable to grant us a tour due to Jim’s impending lawsuit. She was extremely nice about it. Not the horrible Nike corporate monster we expected. She even looked like she felt sorry for us. And I recognized something else. The look on her face. It was the same look I had seen on the workers’ faces a few days before. There was an obvious uneasiness about her and it looked as though she would rather be anywhere else at that moment but in this lobby with Jim Keady and his band of rabble-rousers. Part of it may have been the fact that I was sticking a camera in her face. But I think it was more than that. Now I could be wrong, but I believe she is well aware of what’s going on in the factories, knows it’s wrong, may even be embarrassed by it, but doesn’t want to say anything because she is afraid it would compromise her position and Nike’s position. She has to know all this exploitation is wrong, this extremely nice woman from the Big Easy. She lives 30 miles from Tangerang.

I wonder if Tammy thinks about the workers while she’s sitting at her desk, or if they visit her in her dreams at night. I wonder how many Nike executives think about the workers, know these people are suffering on behalf of their company and are afraid to speak up about it. I wonder how they rationalize their way around it. I wonder as an advertising copywriter, if I, by some stroke of incredible dumb luck, was offered an interview at Weiden & Kennedy, Nike’s ad agency and without question one of the best agencies in the world. Would I be able to get on the plane to Oregon in good conscience after seeing what I’ve seen?

After we shut the camera off, she relaxed a bit and asked Jim how things were going with the project. She seemed genuinely concerned, even sympathetic.

Jim replied, very matter-of-factly, "Your people are starving. You have to pay them more."

At which point our discussion promptly ended, with Tammy very courteously bidding us farewell, double-timing it back toward the catacombs of the Nike corporate office, and disappearing behind a row of cubicles.