By Jana Schilling
Picture yourself strolling down the supermarket aisle, enveloped with a deep desire for a comforting bowl of Italian pasta. The shelves you pass by are neatly aligned with an array of canned and jarred tomato sauces. The bolognese- usually a home-made labour of hours- sits conveniently for the taking, readily available for just a few coins. Do you stop to consider the true cost behind this affordable delicacy?
In Italy, the allure of cheap tomatoes and tomato sauces is underpinned by a harsh reality: retailers wield significant negotiating power, dictating low buying prices to farmers and processors alike. Operating behind the scenes is the clandestine and mafia-like "caporalato" system. Caporali, acting as intermediaries, play a pivotal role in recruiting and transporting migrant workers from informal settlements, where living conditions are deplorable, lacking essential services like water, sanitation, and healthcare.
Within this exploitative system, labour rights violations are rampant. In Amnesty’s 2014 report, researchers found that this form of agricultural labour was characterised by excessive working hours spanning from 8 to 10 hours per day without running water or electricity, coupled with meagre wages, typically 25 euros for the day’s work. Despite instances of severe labour exploitation, there has been a failure to ensure justice for these victims. Adding to the injustice, reports have discovered that migrants are compelled to pay for the cramped and often perilous transportation services provided by the Caporali if they wish to work. These individuals work under demanding conditions to cultivate and harvest essential ingredients, yet their tireless efforts often go unnoticed and unrewarded in a system that prioritises profit over fairness.
This is the story of the thousands of seasonal migrant workers who come to pick tomatoes in Italy. However, this is not an unfamiliar or isolated tale. This narrative extends far beyond the borders of Italy, echoing similar tales of exploitation in various agricultural sectors worldwide. Across continents, migrant workers, many of whom are trapped in the cycle of economic desperation, endure abhorrent working conditions. According to a report by Oxfam, in 2015 approximately 100,000 individuals were found in conditions of exploitation. Despite the scorching sun and the backbreaking labour, vulnerable individuals, stuck in limbo within Italy’s migration policies, are compelled to accept low wages for long hours for fear of being detained and deported, thereby perpetuating a cycle of exploitation.
Amidst this bleak reality lies a sobering truth: without the tireless efforts of these migrant workers, the vibrant fields yielding essential crops would fall silent. Indeed, the absence of seasonal labourers would quite possibly render the very existence of tomatoes in Italy unthinkable.
As we confront the uncomfortable truth about our reliance on economic migrants, it becomes imperative to rethink the current narrative surrounding their identity, worth, and the undeniable role they play in sustaining our societies. The question we are confronted with becomes: where do we draw the line between human trafficking and economic exploitation, between modern-day slaves and economic migrants, and in doing so, can we foster a more just and compassionate world for all?
In the vast landscape of human trafficking and economic exploitation, we find ourselves entangled in a complex web where the boundaries between choice and coercion blur against the backdrop of hyper-competitive practices. Human trafficking, as defined by international law, encompasses all forms of non-consensual exploitation, including situations where individuals are forced or coerced into exploitative work arrangements due to economic vulnerabilities. There is, however, a large overlap with consensual exploitation, namely when economic vulnerabilities force victims to accept exploitative work arrangements. Since the dichotomy between exploitation and modern slavery hinges on the presence of overt coercion, we need to ask ourselves: can true agency exist within the realms of economic desperation?
Where choices are clouded by economic hardships and the lack of recognition from states, the discourse surrounding economic migrants needs a paradigm shift. The fine line between forced and voluntary exploitation beckons us to reassess the language we use to describe these individuals, shedding the biassed stereotypes perpetuated by mainstream media. Economic migrants are often unfairly branded as burdens on society. Yet there is a shameful hypocrisy in pushing forward this narrative while ignoring the extent to which we depend on these labourers in order to access the cheap food currently available on our supermarket shelves. Despite the indispensable services they provide, media narratives continue to portray them as unwelcome intruders at the expense of taxpayers rather than essential contributors.
If indeed we maintain that those making little to no money, working extraordinary hours, must remain within the confines of what we term economic migrants, since they have, in some shape or form, ‘chosen’ this line of work, perhaps we need to rethink how we employ this term. It’s time to acknowledge the inherent injustice in our dependence on these individuals while simultaneously marginalising their existence.