Their well-paid proponents claimed that we should all be grateful for the industry’s existence. Hence, the local minimum wage hike law of 1993 was repealed at the behest of the manufacturers. The industry was exempted from paying the business gross revenue tax. Jack Abramoff’s lobbying firms were hired — and paid some $10 million — to protect the Saipan factories from pesky legislation that would extend U.S. minimum wage and immigration laws to these islands. Meanwhile, Saipan was being depicted internationally as the “island of sweatshops,” and the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Reader’s Digest, and national TV magazine shows had a field day uncovering stories of abused foreign workers in the CNMI and their horrible working conditions.
In 1991, the U.S. Department of Labor sued the largest manufacturer, Willie Tan, for paying garment workers less than Saipan’s minimum wage — at that time, $2.15 an hour — and forcing them to work up to 90 hours a week without OT pay. OSHA fined the Tan factories $240,000 for violations, “including locking and blocking fire doors and other unsanitary and hazardous conditions in the factories and dormitories such as lack of ventilation, filthy toilets and overcrowding. Though regulations required 100 square feet of living space per worker, inspectors found six people sharing a 190-square-foot room.”
In 1992, the Tan factories settled the suit for $9 million — still the largest settlement in U.S. Department of Labor history — while pledging $1.3 million in renovations and paying a $76,000 penalty.
With the creation of the World Trade Organization in 1995 came the announcement that the quotas on garment exports would end 10 years later, on Jan. 1, 2005. Beginning on that day, Saipan garment products would have to compete with the cheaper apparel from the Third World. Now remember that the Saipan industry had been sheltered from competition since its first factory opened shop here in 1983. Saipan factories were paying their foreign workers below the U.S. minimum wage while producing “Made in USA” apparel for U.S. buyers.
Fifteen years ago, in other words, the CNMI government already knew that the factories would be gone after 2005. With the liberalization of international trade rules, the garment manufacturers would relocate to other countries where wages and other production costs were lower than Saipan’s.
But instead of reducing its dependency on the user fees paid by the factories and initiating measures that could have diversified the local economy, the CNMI government in the mid-1990s decided…to bring in more factories and more foreign garment workers. CNMI officials at the same time ignored a report commissioned by the U.S. Department of the Interior indicating that the cost of hosting the factories — the impact on the environment, the infrastructure and public services — was way more than the revenue they were contributing to the commonwealth government. CNMI officials argued that the 10-year phase-in of the new WTO rules was a “window of opportunity.” They said the CNMI should “make hay while the sun still shines.” To accommodate the needs of the factories and its workers, the size of the CNMI government expanded further and no one asked how the salaries and benefits of the additional personnel would be funded once the factories were gone.
When Chun Yu Wang, the narrator of “Chicken Feathers and Garlic Skin,” arrived on island in 2000, the industry had supposedly cleaned up its act already. The garment manufacturers were even touting their “partnership” and “cooperation” with federal authorities. But as Chun’s story clearly shows, the garment workers were still being shafted. The way they were recruited, the terms of their contracts, the conditions at their barracks and factories — these, now we know, never improved.
Published a year ago, “Chicken Feathers and Garlic Skin” is a riveting account of life in a Saipan garment factory. It is a strange book though. It has a foreword but you won’t know who wrote it and who’s the editor and translator until you reach the last page of the book. I also noticed some gaps in Chun’s story, particularly her personal life on island. In an early chapter she mentioned having a Sri Lankan friend, John. Later, when his name was again mentioned, I learned that he was not just a friend, but her boyfriend. She never tells us what happened to their relationship, or if he ever paid her the thousands of dollars he “borrowed.” And why does she call L&T “L&D”? (At the end of the book’s page 2, it says it was printed in the “United States of Americ”.)
The editor, Walt Goodridge, provided background materials regarding the garment industry, but they’re inadequate. He also believes that “opinions vary” regarding this industry, which he describes as “controversial,” and he says that its “ultimate legacy” is still unknown. He’s wrong. The industry was bad for the CNMI. It gave the islands a bad reputation and mistreated a lot of people. Its 26-year existence on Saipan spawned enormous problems that are still plaguing the commonwealth. It left nothing here but “chicken feathers and garlic skin.”
What is unquestionable, however, is the value of Chun’s fascinating story. She and Goodridge should be commended for publishing this important book.
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