Aldiland – from a Small-Town German Corner Store to World-wide Supermarket Discount Kings (Part I)

Commerce & Business, Retailing history

Anyone who’s ever walked into an Aldi supermarket would notice the difference from your established, big-name chain supermarket. For a start, in your mega-‘market you would expect to see palettes lying out the back in the loading dock, NOT on the aisle floors in the middle of the store. Perched on the Aldi palettes are groceries and other goods in their original cardboard boxes. Aldi has a small shop-fit budget, it doesn’t spend money on installing fancy shelving, it’s stores typify the “no frills store format”, which simply offers, as it’s advertising spiel announces, “Everyday low prices”. Minimalism is one of the standard Aldi store’s by-words. The checkout area tells a similar story. Shoppers line up their purchases on a long counter which gets shunted down to the cashier. The area of the till itself is small, minute even, the whole thing is streamlined for speed and ease of transacting. And you won’t find a cornucopia of either choice or types of products in Aldi’s.

The key to retail success
Sticking to the basis is a large part of the Aldi formula. The supermarket stocks less than 2,000 items…compare this to your average Coles or Woolies supermarket which typically stocks upward of 40,000 items! Looking for some Foie de gras or that special Russian black caviar, no, you won’t find these here. Aldi’s product base resides on what they call Private brand items. Smaller concentration of staple products + purchase in high quantities = lower prices for the customers. Although that said, Aldi also offers up to the trolly-pushing punters what it calls “Weekly Special Offers”. Located in the middle aisles—what Aldi cutely calls its “Treasure Aisle” (get it?)—are a diverse range of merchandise, some of which might be in the luxury category, Alpine snow suits and hiking tents, tools for the house handy-person, electronics, European chocolates, right through to the more peculiarly exotic pet pampering products like dog sofas and cat caves. All of which are seriously cheap.

🔺 from “The Book of Aldi”

Aldi eschews the “nice shopping experience”, customer service is not great. The store’s mission, once the shoppers have made their selections, is to shuffle them through as rapidly as possible, hence the streamlined checkout. Shoppers are ‘encouraged‘ (by the scarcity of space) and the requirement to self-pack to quickly move their goods to the back bench to pack them. Aldi doesn’t have self-serve checkouts or ‘fast’ minimum-item lanes, so inevitably there are queues because of popularity…as a consequence sometimes patience and timing are supreme virtues.

When the last item has been taken from a carton on the palette, a shop assistant will simply replace it with a new carton. This is time-efficient, saving the store staff from having to constantly restock the shelves. And when it comes to personnel on the ground, Aldi certainly have leaner staffing structures than the “Coles-worths” and Tesco’s of this world. This has prompted claims that the German employer puts unrealistic time-pressures on the reduced number of store staff to move the palettes into their point-of-sale position and complete other store-related tasks. When the stores close at 8pm or whatever the local time applicable, the shop attendants and cashiers turn into cleaners and spend the next hour getting the store spotless. There have been allegations (denied by Aldi) that it makes staff in some regions arrive 15 minutes before start-time to check the stock level without being paid. And of course it’s widely known that Aldi have consistently been notoriously anti-union in its staffing management practices.

Aldi stores don’t include the extraneous auxiliary facilities regularly found in other larger mainstream supermarkets and hypermarkets—no in-store banking/ATM machines, cafes, photo booths, pharmacies, children’s rides, toilets, etc—Aldi’s view is these add to the store’s end-cost. Instead they concentrate on the singular task of delivering groceries and other household essentials.

Aldi’s control of it’s “own brand”—which makes up a whopping 90 to 95% of what it sells—is interesting. First there’s the design, it deliberately makes the packaging on its food items look much the same as the leading manufacturers’ equivalent brands. Next, it tries to replicate the taste of these popular brands. Then Aldi invents a brand name for the product which often sounds vaguely like the well-known brand. And it apparently works – even on luxury items. To take a UK example: Many British consumers who once shopped at the upmarket Sainsbury’s and Waitrose supermarkets have been enticed by Aldi’s “Specially-Selected” luxury items – and the reason is twofold, obviously price (much cheaper than Sainsbury’s), but also because they now feel they are getting a similar-quality product (retail expert Julie McColl, Glasgow Caledonian University). As well as a recent product expansion to include luxury treats for it’s shoppers, Aldi’s move into ‘fresh’, the fruit and veg lines, has broadened it’s appeal.

Another key to Aldi being so spectacularly successfully in the supermarket game is it’s relationship to suppliers. Because of their runaway retail success they have many primary producers and manufacturers lining up to do business with them, but Aldi is well-known for driving a hard bargain with suppliers (sort of a case of “my way or the highway”). They are also clever at judging what will be efficacious – by sourcing local suppliers and advertising in the UK they have softened the German outsider element and fostered an impression among British shoppers of the big discount ‘invader’ being home-based.

Dr McColl has also drawn attention to Aldi’s recently strategy of positioning some of its new stores in towns next door to the prestigious Marks and Spencer outlets. The appeal of this being that shoppers can easily flit between the two – and avail themselves to the best of both worlds, getting their luxury items at M&S and their basics at Aldi.

The above factors, outlined, are apparently the ‘secrets’ to Aldi’s stellar success and it’s ability to offer and maintain retail prices at rock bottom in markets across the world. In part II I will tell the story of Aldi’s rise from a single grocer’s store in provincial Germany to international retail empire, and of the two publicity-shy and increasingly reclusive brothers who spearheaded the company’s seemingly unstoppable growth and expansion.

called Exclusive brands in US AldiLand

pet furniture seems to be one of Aldi’s specialities

or maybe I mean non-existent – staff are hard to catch, as they are usually flat out haring round the store trying to meet management’s daily schedules

200 Aldi store managers in the US filed charges against unfair labour practices (University of Huddersfield). Aldi operations in other countries have similarly been criticised for incidences where the store has adopted an authoritarian or heavy-handed line towards it’s staff

 

Articles, papers and sites referred to:

‘Aldi – “The No Frills Retailer”, (Peter Emsell, with contributions by Leigh Morland), Unpublished case study, University of Huddersfield (2011), www.eprints.hud.ac.uk

‘Secrets of store success: Why Aldi is winning the retail battle’, (Alison Kirker), The Sunday Post, 19-Feb-2018, www.sundaypost.com

‘Aldi’s secret for selling cheaper groceries than Wal-Mart or Trader Joe’, Business Insider, (Ashley Lutz), 09-Apr-2015, www.businessinsider.com

Aldi rebukes Dispatches Investigation, says it contains “selective information”‘, (Natalie Mortimer), The Drum, 10-Nov-2015, www.thedrum.com

    


The Luddites of Britain’s Industrial Revolution: Technophobes with an Excessively Destructive Bent or Practitioners of Last Resort Workplace Bargaining?

Economic history, Old technology, Popular Culture, Regional History, Social History

The Luddites of Britain’s Industrial Revolution: Technophobes with an Excessively Destructive Bent or Practitioners of Last Resort Workplace Bargaining?

We’ve all heard the term bandied round—anyone who is reluctant to embrace new technology or the world of computers is labelled a Luddite. The Cambridge Dictionary defines it as “a person who is opposed to the introduction of new working methods, especially new machines”. Many of us would also have an inkling of the term’s origins, deriving from the group of English workers in the early 19th century whose method of resisting new work technologies in Georgian factories and mills took on a very “hands-on”, destructive manner. Beginning with weavers in the textile industry in Nottinghamshire taking to the new machines with sledgehammers in protest, the movement soon spread to other parts of the Midlands and the North of England.

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Rampage against the machine provokes a repressive reaction
The British government wasted little time in sending in an army of soldiers
(𝓪 ) in defence of capital. Their assignment was to protect the factories and quell the workers’ revolts. Parliament enacted laws making the workers’ trail of destruction against the machines a capital offence, and many of the offenders were summarily and violently dealt with (shootings, hangings, transportation to New Holland for 14 years). Consequently, the Luddite movement lost energy and cohesion and petered out within a few years [‘The Original Luddites Raged Against the Machine of the Industrial Revolution’, (Christopher Klein), History, 04-Jan-2019, www.history.com].

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Class loyalty
The ruling elite of the day viewed the actions of the workers in attacking the private property of employers as merely bloody-minded vandalism, a perspective that still held an attraction for some modern conservative historians in the 20th century… eminent historian JH Plumb
for instance dismissed the Luddites’ revolts as nothing more than “pointless, frenzied industrial jacquerie”. But was that all there was to it, nihilism, the mindless, purposeless, random savagery of working class vandals? 

In a ground-breaking article in the early Fifties radical historian EJ Hobsbawn took issue with the conventional “nihilistic sabotage” view of historians like Plumb. Hobsbawn places the rebellious workers’ actions in their proper context, that of the Industrial Revolution and the economic vicissitudes of the period. The machine-breaking by the weavers and other workers was a direct action form of industrial strategy initiated by labour, Hobsbawn calls it “collective bargaining by riot” [EJ Hobsbawn, ‘The Machine Breakers’, Past and Present, No 1, (Feb., 1952), pp.57-70]. EP Thompson describes Luddism as “a violent eruption of feeling against unrestrained industrial capitalism” [E.P. Thompson, The Making of the English Working Class, (1966)](𝓫).

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The threat accompanying automation
Workers such as the weavers in Nottinghamshire around 1811/12 foresaw the dire implications for them of the introduction of new inventions like the mechanical loom. The economic downturn Britain experienced during the drawn-out Napoleonic Wars resulted in loss of profits for the merchants who owned the mills and factories. But it harmed working families even more…unemployment was widespread, food became scarce and therefore more expensive. Magnifying the problem, trades like the stocking knitters and the lace workers were in decline. By using the new technology, employers could increase production allowing them to engage untrained workers at lower wages. This directly and adversely affected the weavers and other artisans who had spent years learning and honing the skills of their craft. Now the new machines were being taken over by untrained workers who produced inferior work. The job security of textile craftsmen were thus imperilled, by the use of the (new) machinery in (as they saw it) “a fraudulent and deceitful manner” to circumvent standard labour practices(𝓬). The danger identified, the textile workers found themselves limited in the forms of protest available to them—they could not legally form trade unions and they could not strike(𝓭 ). Smashing knitting frames and other machines was conceivably the only effective way to protest the inevitable erosion of their economic livelihood [George Binfield, quoted in Klein; ‘What is a Luddite?’, wiseGEEK, www.wisegeek.com].

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Not technophobes of the Industrial Revolution
Hobsbawn is at pains to stress that the protesting mill and factory workers bore no hostility to the machines
per se(𝓮). Notwithstanding that the concept of trade unionism was inchoate and still barely nascent at this time, Hobsbawn describes the “wrecking (as) simply a technique of trade unions in the period before (and during) the early Industrial Revolution“. A more contemporary historian George Binfield concurs with Hobsbawn’s central thesis, stating that the derisory ‘technophobe’ tag is a mischaracterisation of the movement—the textile artisans were not against the new technology of the Industrial Revolution, but against the use of it to produce shoddy clothing and depress the wages of skilled workers (Binfield in Klein)(𝓯). Actually, far from being inept, many of the Luddites in the textile industry were highly skilled machine operators [‘What the Luddites Really Fought Against’, (Richard Conniff), Smithsonian Magazine, March 2011, www.smithsonianmag.com].

Poster notice offering a reward for information leading to the arrest of the frame-breakers who attacked George Ball’s Notts. workshop in 1812 🔻

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Antecedents and successors of the Luddites
Luddism, as Donald MacKenzie put it, “was neither mindless, nor completely irrational, nor completely unsuccessful” [DA MacKenzie, ‘Marx and the Machine’,
Technology and Culture, Vol 25, No 3, July 1984, pp.473-503]. Hobsbawn scuttles any suggestion that the Luddites’ movement was a one-off phenomena. Arguing that it’s antecedents can be traced back as far as the 17th century, he details instances of other English workers utilising the same industrial tactic as the Luddites—West of England clothing industry , 1710s-1720s; weavers in Somerset, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire and Devon, 1726/27(𝓰); rioting of textile workers in Melksham (Wilts), 1738; and not confined to the textiles business – coal miners employed the same wrecking tactic in the Northumberland coal-field in the 1740s (𝓱). Hobsbawn notes that the Luddites’ tactic of destroying the tools of production in a calculated fashion did not end with the movement’s swift demise. He cites the riots in Bedlington (Durham) in 1831 in which strikers wilfully wrecked the capitalists’ winding-gear.

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No unmitigated failure; the preventative measures tactic
Although the Luddites’ revolt ended in suppression and broken dreams, Hobsbawn makes the case that there were successes in the workers’ efforts in other episodes of machine-breaking. In some instances, the mere threat from disgruntled craftsmen to wreak havoc on factories and mills was sufficient to dissuade some employers from introducing the machinery as planned, eg, this was the case earlier with weavers in Norwich and shearmen in Wiltshire. Hobsbawn concludes that “invariably, the employer, faced with such hazards” decided to delay or not implement the new technology, cognisant of the latent threat to his property and even his own life. In several of the cases cited by the historian, the threats were a successful bargaining tool to stop employers from cuttingworkers‘ wages, and in the instance of the Northumberland coal miners, their provocative action in burning the mine’s pit-head machinery actually won themselves “a sizeable pay rise”.

🔺‘Ned Ludd’ (sometimes transcribed as Ned Lud) (Image: Granger Collection, NY)

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Footnote: The eponymous ‘leader’ of the movement
The Luddites’ leader was supposed to be one “Ned Ludd”, sometimes refer
red to as ‘General‘, ‘Captain’ or even ‘King’ Ludd. Purportedly he was an apprentice in the late 1770s who was either beaten or berated by his master and took revenge by damaging the factory’s stocking frame. It seems that in all probability Ned is apocryphal in the fashion of Robin Hood, the English personification of the mythical figure invoking social justice. Ned can be viewed as a symbolic leader for the wrongly-treated to rally round in pursuit of righting (in this instance) the workplace injustices foisted upon skilled industrial craftsmen (Ludd was even said to reside in Sherwood Forest, another nod to the inspiration of the Robin Hood legend in his invention).

(𝓪) some 12,000 troops in total were despatched, more than the number under the command of Wellington in the concurrent Peninsula War, a classic, heavy-handed overkill by the British authorities 

(𝓫) one writer applies the term “labor strategists” to the Luddites as a de facto vocational appellation, [Brian Merchant, ‘You’ve Got Luddites All Wrong’, (Tech By Vice), 03-Sep-2014, www.vice.com]

(𝓬) being prevented from forming trade unions left industrial workers already behind the eight-ball when IR mechanisation came along—they were unable to establish a minimum wage, establish workers’ pensions and set standard working conditions

(𝓭) the technology the Luddites railed against did not necessarily need to be new, the stocking frame for instance had been invented 200 years earlier (Conniff)

(𝓮) nor were they “heroic defenders of a pre-technological way of life” – as romantically portrayed later in some quarters (Conniff)

(𝓯) as Binfield contends, the Luddites were in fact willing to adapt to mechanisation…it was the direction that enhanced productivity was heading—enriching the merchant owners, not the workers—that was their beef. Their objective was a share of those profits, or at the very least, a decent wage

(𝓰) their attack on the property and materials of masters and blacklegs had the positive outcome of gaining them a “collective contract” of sorts

(𝓱) workers in the East Midlands hosiery trade also resorted to frame-breaking as part of the riots in 1778 to protest wage erosion…Hobsbawn calls these hose-makers “the ancestors of Ludditism”

Sydney’s Bridge Street, but Where is the Bridge?★

Built Environment, Heritage & Conservation, Local history, Social History, Town planning

Bridge Street in the city is one of Sydney’s oldest streets dating back to the formative days of the colony. Where Bridge Street is today, 500 metres south of the Circular Quay railway station and ferry terminus, was the site of the first bridge in the Port Jackson settlement. It was a simple log construction, erected in October 1788 just months after the colony was founded, and allowing passage over the Tank Stream, the source of Sydney’s main fresh water supply in the early days.

After several timber bridges came and went, they eventually put up a more substantial (supposedly ‘permanent’) stone bridge in its place (near the corner of Bridge and Pitt Streets), which also had to be replaced owing to it being considerably less substantial than first thought and not permanent at all◵. Bridge Street at that time was called Governors Row as it housed the colony’s first seat of government and the governor’s residence (on the corner of Phillip Street). A commemorative stone on the site (now housing the Museum of Sydney) marks the historic location.

An early painting of the city (a facsimile of which can be viewed on a wall in The Rocks) shows Governors Row (Bridge Street) extending all the way from the water at Darling Harbour up the hill to the first Government House.

Governors Row became Bridge Street when Lachlan Macquarie took over the colony’s governorship in 1810 and initiated a renaming project of Sydney’s streets as part of his reform program. In 1846 Bridge Street was extended up to Macquarie Street and Government House was relocated to its present location as a domain within the Botanic Gardens.

Lower Bridge Street: Residential to Commercial

Early on, the lower part of Bridge Street contained many fine houses, but these were gradually replaced by the head offices of shipping and trading companies because of the advantage of being close to the harbour.

Upper Bridge St: Chock-full of Heritage sites

From the mid 19th to the early 20th century construction in the upper part of Bridge Street formed the architectural character that distinguishes it today. A series of government buildings—grand in scale and elegance and richly elaborate—were built using sandstone quarried from nearby Pyrmont.

Treasury and Audit Office building (1849-51)

Corner of Macquarie and Bridge Sts. Architect: Mortimer Lewis. During the NSW gold rush shipments of gold were stored here. Today the building with a high vertical extension added is the huge, 580-room Intercontinental Hotel with a section housing the Sydney annex of Southern Cross University.

Chief Secretarys Office (1869)

Victorian Italianate building directly opposite the Treasury building. Architect: James Barnet. Equally impressive sandstone block. One of the most aesthetically endearing features are the five carved figures of women on the corner of the facade. The megasized building block wraps around into the western corner Phillip Street.

Department of Education (1914) and Lands Department (1877-90) buildings

These two havens of state bureaucrats, further down Bridge St, round out the classical sandstone quartet. The Lands Dept block, built to the design of James Barnet, is a Classical Revival style building. Like many of the public buildings of the era it’s built from Pyrmont sandstone. The Education building (Architect: George McRae) is of a later architectural trend reflecting the popular Beaux-Arts fashion.

Commercial buildings dominate the lower end of Bridge St. The Royal Exchange Building (1967) at № 21 Bridge St stands on the original site of the Royal Exchange building (1857) – the first home of the Sydney Stock Exchange. Numerically next to the REB (at № 17-19) is the Singapore Airlines House (1925), an elegant example of the Commercial Palazzo style of architecture.

Perhaps the standout architectural piece of the lower commercial sector is the old Burns Philip and Co head office building (1898-1901) close to George Street, with its elaborate sandstone and brick Neo-Romanesque facade. Architect: Arthur Anderson. Burns Philip were big players in the Australian shipping and trading business. Originally, a convict lumber yard sat on this site.

The pick of the rest of the commercial buildings for compact elegance are probably the brace of adjoining buildings, № 4 Cliveden and № 6, (across the road from BP&Co). The street’s first commercial high-rise building, constructed 1913 in the Federation Free Classical style. Next door to the left of Cliveden is Anchor House (1960), for many years the HQs of the NSW Liberal Party. The site in the early Colonial period contained a female orphan’s asylum which later relocated to a site in Parramatta (now part of a Western Sydney University campus).

Postscript: Macquarie Place

Halfway up Bridge Street, making a refreshing break of greenery from all the high monolithic buildings dominating the streetscape, is Macquarie Place. A diminutive triangular park which in colonial times was part of the governor’s garden. The park which now backs on to a trendy bar frequented by big-end-of-town ‘suits’ contains some gear salvaged from the First Fleet (anchor and cannon of HMS Sirius). A feature of interest of the park for passionate monarchists are two plane trees planted by the Royal duo Liz and Phil back in 1954 (now very tall and expansive).Macquarie Place as it was in the early colonial period, unrecognisable today (Source: http://dictionaryofsydney.org/)

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◵ the bridge was finally demolished in the 1840s when the Tank Stream got channelled into an underground tunnel where it remains, what’s left of it that is

⍟ previously the Colonial Secretary’s Office

The genesis of this piece resides in my curiosity about the street name’s origin. The first association anyone has with Sydney, especially the city itself (ie, the CBD), is the Harbour Bridge. The city is the Harbour Bridge! It’s part of its lifeblood. So I guess I’d always just took it for granted that the street was named in honour of THE Bridge and thought no more about it. Then one day I was casually flicking through the pages of a 1922 Sydney street directory —as you do—when I had the (mini) eureka moment, Bridge Street was listed, it was there on the map, a good ten years before the Harbour Bridge made its debut! That set me off searching for what actually lay behind the naming of the street.

Reference sites consulted:

‘The History of Sydney: Early Colonial History 1790-1809’, (Visit Sydney),

http://www.visitsydneyaustralia.com.au/history-6-early-col.html

‘Bridge Street Heritage Walk’, Pocket Oz Travel and Information Guide – Sydney (Visit Sydney),

http://www.visitsydneyaustralia.com.au/bridge-street.html

‘Bridge Street’, Dictionary of Sydney, http://dictionaryofsydney.org

‘Bridge Street, Sydney’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org/