Showing posts from category: Regional History
Fordlândia: The Dearborn Carmaker’s Amazon Folly
Pioneering American industrialist Henry Ford built his first commercial automobile in 1901, and went on in the years following to revolutionise the motor vehicle industry with his eponymous Model T Ford and his innovative assembly line production techniques✲. With the advent of Fordism (a system involving modern technological machinery and standardised production in high volumes) Ford was paying his auto industry employees an (at the time) unprecedented $5 a day! However it came with very consequential strings (a dehumanisation of the workplace and the loss of workers’ individual autonomy).
By the 1920s Ford was pursuing a plan to harness the waters of the Tennessee River to power a proposed 75-mile long mega-city, which the car-maker proclaimed would be a “new Eden” in northwest Alabama. A concerted campaign by political opponents within the US however blocked Ford’s efforts to get the scheme off the ground ‘[‘Valley of Visions’, (Adam Bruns), Site Selection Magazine, May 2010, www.siteselection.com]. Vexated but undaunted, Ford turned to the remote Amazon jungle for his next big project.
The rubber market and “latex gold” Rubber was in high demand by car manufacturers like Ford and his American rivals General Motors and Chrysler. Rubber is the source of latex, which is vulcanised to create car tyres and for a range of other vehicle parts (eg, valves, gaskets, hoses, electrical wiring). The problem for Ford and other manufacturers was that the European colonial powers, France, the Netherlands and (especially) Britain, had an established monopoly on the production of rubber through their profitable South-East Asian colonies (Malaysia, the East Indies, Vietnam, Ceylon). Ford was particularly concerned that the British, spearheaded by its secretary for colonial affairs Winston Churchill, was intent on creating a rubber cartel to further monopolise the valuable product for the Europeans. The industrialist therefore was looking round for a cheaper way of sourcing rubber…he briefly considered planting rubber trees in the Florida Everglades but that didn’t turn out to be promising. His focus eventually fixed on Brazil and its vast Amazon Basin (see also the Footnotes).
Eyes on Brazil
From 6,000 km away in Ford’s Dearborn car ‘empire’ headquarters, the Amazon looked a logical location for a rubber plantation. It was after all the original (and therefore seemingly the natural) environment for producing latex, being the home of the plant Hevea brasiliensis, used to make the most elastic and purest form of latex!
Ford’s idealistic and ideological vision Clearly Henry Ford saw the long-term business advantages of securing a consistent supply of latex at the most favourable prices, but in his public pronouncements he let it be known that he viewed the Brazilian project as something grander than an attempt to corner a resource market – “a civilising mission” no less! Ford regularly couched his intervention in Amazonia in terms of it being an act of “benevolence to help that wonderful and fertile land” [‘Lost cities #10: Fordlandia – the failure of Henry Ford’s utopian city in the Amazon’, (Drew Reed), The Guardian, 19-Aug-2016, www.theguardian.com]. While some of the car manufacturer’s overblown utterances may have been an indulgence in PR, the Amazonian venture (and the fact that he persisted with it long, long past its use-by-date) suggests that the idea of Fordlândia represented something in his core that was deeply idealistic. Greg Grandin in his epic study of the Fordlândia experiment, has noted that despite the runaway success of his Detroit-based business empire, Ford had become increasingly disatisfied with modern American society and culture as he saw it, there was a whole catalogue of things that he abhorred…including war, unions, alcohol, cigarettes, cow’s milk(!), modern dance, Wall Street financiers, Jews, the creeping intervention of government into business and into American life as a whole [Fordlândia: The Rise and Fall of Henry Ford’s Forgotten Jungle City, (2010)].
A blinkered idealism Ford saw in the challenge of carving a viable city out of the Brazilian wilderness, a potential antidote to all he disliked about his homeland – a way to recreate “a vision of Americana that was slipping out of his grasp at home” [ibid.]. Another driver in Ford’s Amazonian quest was the unflinching faith in his capacity to replicate the Dearborn business success elsewhere, including the Amazon jungle. This idealism led Ford, even when things went “pear-shaped” in Fordlândia “to deliberately reject the expert advice” and blindly cling to his peculiarly personal notion of trying “to turn the Amazon into the Midwest of his imagination” [ibid.]. Moreover, Grandin notes, that the greater the reverses of Henry’s rubber enterprises in the Amazon, the more the carmaker would describe his ‘mission’ in Brazil in idealistic terms – Fordlândia would, he stressed repeatedly, bring economic stability and increases in the standard of life to the impoverished people of the Brazilian interior; the new city would support 10,000 people, etc [ibid.].
Initially, the government and it seems, the Brazilian people in the main, welcomed Ford’s Amazonian industrial city. Brazilian officials, especially consul José de Lima, went to great pains to woo the American carmaker once his interest in the Amazon became known. Some Brazilian officials even heaped overly-lavish, religiously evocative praise on Ford , calling him the “Jesus Christ of Industry”, the “Moses of the Twentieth Century” and “the salvation of Brazil’s long-moribund rubber industry” [ibid.].
By the terms of the business deal, Ford would pay the Brazilian government about US$125,000 for 5,625 square miles of land and the company was to be exempt from taxes✣. Under the concessions Ford’s city was to be granted an autonomous bank, police force and schools, to many observers it was a violation of Brazilian sovereignty…”it was as if Ford had the right to run Forlândia as a separate state”. The sceptical Santarém (local) press mockingly referred to the Dearborn (Michigan) car manufacturer as “São Ford” (“St Ford”) [ibid.].
The blueprint for Fordlândia Ford poured a massive amount of resources into his (new) utopian ‘dream’ city. The plant was equipped with “state-of-the-art” processing facilities. No expense was spared on constructing the American village (known locally as Vila Americana) which was reserved for American management. It was equipped with a swimming pool, a golf course, tennis courts, a library, schools and a hospital. Not surprisingly, the de luxe conditions of the Americans’ village was in grotesque contrast with that of the Brazilian workers whose rudimentary houses lacked even running water [ibid.].
Setbacks and drawbacks The jungle site picked out for Ford’s prefabricated industry town was Aveiro on the River Tapajós, in the state of Pará. From the get-go in 1928 things did not go well! First off, clearing the dense jungle for the site was really hard (and dangerous) work✪…even with Ford’s promise to pay high wages to the locals, labour was in short supply. The project’s logistics provided another headache, the location’s communications and transportation had serious shortcomings, The location was hilly and there were no roads to Aveiro so movement was by boat up and down the river, and seasonal climatic conditions tended to impede access (also latter on hindering the cargo vessels trying to reach Fordlândia to load up the latex).
“Agri-ignorance” The task of planting rubber trees was thoroughly error-ridden. Ford’s managers used antiquated planting techniques, the team lacked basic knowledge of tropical agriculture. A fundamental flaw that proved critical was the company’s practice (ignoring the advice of Brazilian botanists) of planting the rubber trees too close to each other, this resulted in making the plantings susceptible to disease (enabling the destructive South American leaf blight to move easily from tree to tree) [ibid.].
Illness caused by the harsh tropical location wreaked havoc with the work force (especially the migrant workers but also affecting the American staff). Workers went down with various ailments (malaria, VD, yellow fever, beriberi, parasites, snake bites, etc) placing a strain on the already overwhelmed company health services [ibid.].
Subverting worker morale Ford imposed strict conditions of behaviour on the work force – in keeping with his personal puritanical code. A prohibition ban was imposed (to match the prevailing injunction on alcohol in the US at the time). In light of the severely harsh conditions they were working under, Ford’s “absolutely no tolerance” liquor policy was totally unrealistic⊡. Workers were forced to endure a regime of rigid conformity – regimentation of plantation life, adhering to strict standards of discipline and hygiene. And to make things even more onerous, Ford introduced the same, notorious heavy-handed yolk of enforcement he employed in the River Rouge automobile plant in Detroit. Ford’s “Big Brother” like Service Department men were employed to carry out highly intrusive spot searches on workers’ quarters to ensure compliance with the edicts.
Americanisation overkill
Ford insisted that the migrant workers at Fordlândia adhere to Americanised conditions of work and services which ignored the local realities and cultural norms. This meant everyone got American-style housing with metal roofs which were conductors of the already intense tropical heat (in preference to the more sensible natural thatch roofs they were used to in Brazil). Another “First World” error by Ford was to build workers’ houses close to the ground…the locals in the Amazon knew to build high up on stilts so that they didn’t get overrun with animals and insects! Ford was insistent on interfering with the Brazilians’ diets, workers were fed unfamiliar food like hamburgers, whole-wheat bread and unpolished rice, and they were encouraged to plant flowers and vegetables on their plots. The American managers, with scant regard for the workers, forced them to work in the middle of the day in full tropical sun. Inevitably, the migrant workers staged a revolt against the management practices, known as Quebra-Panelas (the “Breaking Pans”). They rioted in late 1930, protesting against Ford’s imposed conditions, and the Brazilian army had to intervene to restore order (with management making some concessions with regard to the food) [ibid.].
Erratic managerial direction Part of the problem with Fordlândia was with the management. They’re was a rapid turnover of managers in the first two years of the settlement. Ford’s often wrong-headed policies were not easy to implement, but some managers were not up to the task and others just couldn’t hack it in the extremely challenging and arduous Amazon and quit. Unsurprisingly, with mismanagement morale plummeted, the American staff increasingly engaged in wild parties and drunken revelry. It wasn’t until Scot Archibald Johnston was put in charge at the end of 1930 that progress started to be made at Fordlândia. Johnston was able to improve the infrastructure, enhance the lifestyles of employees’ – new entertainments and recreations – film and dance nights, gardening, football games (overturning Ford’s earlier ban) and more education options. Grandin feels that under Johnston’s management, the city “came closest to Ford’s original ideal”. But still the yields of latex didn’t come remotely close to the company’s anticipated returns.
With the lack of commercial success, the original Brazilian government enthusiasm for Ford’s project waned badly. Even from the start there had been critics of the done deal that was vague on many details and required Ford to use only 40 % of his land grant for the production of latex♉. Eventually, there was a loss of credibility for Fordlândia – with the situation showing little improvement, the Brazilian middle classes ultimately could not square Ford’s “self-promoted reputation for rectitude and efficiency” with the reality of the plantation’s dismal track record [ibid.]
FN 1: British ‘Bio-piracy’ The European monopoly on rubber had its origins in the unscrupulous actions of British botanist Henry Wickham who clandestinely pilfered Hevea seeds out of the Amazon in the late 19th century. These were propagated successfulyl in Asia✧, putting the three colonial powers in a frontline advantageous economic position in the trade. The sale of latex, especially to the US auto industry which needed rubber for the expansion of the burgeoning industry, helped Great Britain and France pay off its (WWI) war debts [Grandin, op.cit.].
FN 2: The “latex lords” Before the rise of the Asian rubber plantations, Brazil was the dominant world supplier…in the second half of the 19th century, processed rubber accounted for 40% of Brazil’s total exports. The Amazon’s big towns, Manaus and Belem, profited spectacularly from the rubber boom as witnessed by the magnificent BeauxArts palaces and grand neoclassical municipal buildings that sprang up. By the early 1920s however, the country’s rubber industry had bottomed out and Brazil was bankrupt [ibid.].
••••——••——•••——••——•••——••———••——•••——••——••——••——•••———••——••——•••• ✲ so successful that the Ford Motor Company had captured over half the US auto sales market by 1921 ✧ rubber cultivation thrived in South-east Asia due to a combination of factors – the parasites (insects and fungi) that feed off the rubber in Brazil were not present; the cross-breeding of trees led to increased yields of sap. The plantations were close to ports (cf. Brazil), reducing the transportation costs. Lastly, the cost of labour (principally derived from China) was significantly lower [Grandin, op.cit.]
✣ as it transpired, the deal was not as great as the Detroit carmaker thought …”swindled by a Brazilian con artist” Ford paid around three-times the value of the land [G Grandin, Empire’s Workshop: Latin America, The United States and the Rise of the New Imperialism, (2005)]
✪ a hardship compounded by the company providing the clearers with very poor housing conditions ⊡ and impossible to fully enforce…plantation workers got round the prohibitions (Ford’s ‘puritanism’ extended to bans on women in the town, on smoking and on the playing of football as well) by establishing illicit bars, nightclubs and brothels on the so-called “Island of innocence”, [‘Fordlândia’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org] ♉ leading some Brazilians to speculate that Ford’s real motives for intervening were to seek oil, gold and political leverage [Grandin, op.cit.].
Iceland’s “Dog-Days King”: The Nine Week Summer Republic
In the middle of the Napoleonic Wars with conflict raging in different parts of the Continent, attention switched momentarily to the North Atlantic. In 1807 the United Kingdom attacked Copenhagen, capturing or neutralising virtually the entire Danish navy. The Danish response was to join the European conflict on Napoleon’s side against Britain and its allies.
Iceland at this time was a sovereign territory under the realm of the Danish-Norwegian real union. During the hostilities, in 1809, a British trading expedition to Iceland was mounted by London soap merchant Samuel Phelps. Accompanying Phelps on this mission was a Danish adventurer with a dodgy past, Jørgen Jørgenson whose escapades in Iceland and elsewhere were to make him one the most colourful characters of the era.
Jørgenson’s coup
Despite Iceland’s citizens suffering from a shortage of provisions, the governor of the colony rebuffed Phelps’ request to trade with the locals. At this point, Phelps and especially Jørgenson, took things into their own hands. The Dane had the governor (Count FC Trampe) apprehended and his administration deposed in a “bloodless coup”. Jørgenson immediately declared Iceland a republic, free and independent of Danish-Norwegian rule.
Jørgenson’s “reform agenda” for Iceland✱ Unhesitatingly Jørgenson assumed the top spot in the new regime, adopting the title of “His Excellency, the Protector of Iceland, Commander in Chief by Sea and Land” [James Dally, ‘Jorgenson, Jorgen (1780–1841)’, Australian Dictionary of Biography, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/jorgenson-jorgen-2282/text2935, published first in hardcopy 1967, accessed online 1 January 2019].
The ‘protector’ set about designing a flag (above) for the ‘republic’ and built a fort which he named Fort Phelps after the merchant who financed the expedition. Jörgenson announced a series of reforms, pledging to lower taxes on the citizenry, establish price controls on grain, and to restore the Althing (Iceland’s historic parliament dating back to AD 930) [Historical Dictionary of Iceland, (Sverrir Jakobsson & Gudamundar Hálfdanarson) [1st Ed.]]. Jørgenson’s proclamations that he was acting on behalf of Icelanders to liberate them from colonial servitude have a question mark over them…in his autobiography Jørgenson hints at the fact that he had been motivated more by personal gain and glory than by any altruistic aims [‘The Convict King’ by Jørgen Jørgenson (edited by James Francis Hogan)].
The “nine week republic” The English were not in favour of Jørgenson’s bold unilateral coup, the influential Sir Joseph Banks for instance decried the takeover by Jørgenson as illegal – although its interesting to note that Banks had already urged Westminster to annex Iceland (as well as Greenland and the Faroe Islands) and turn the North Atlantic into a “British lake” [Jørgen Jørgenson’s Liberation of Icelandic – A Bicentenary’, Tasmanian Times, (Kim Peart), 31-May-2009, www.tasmaniantimes.com]. Just nine weeks after the deposition of Danish rule on the island, the HMS Talbot under Captain Alexander Jones was despatched to the capital Reikevig (Reykjavík) to take the Danish “mini-Napoleon” into custody and restore Danmark-Norge rule.
Jørgenson was taken back to London (apparently voluntarily) where was imprisoned for breaching his parole which had forbidden him from leaving England without permission. After the defeat of Denmark-Norway’s ally France in 1814, Norway was ceded to Sweden and Iceland ceded to Denmark (Treaty of Kiel). It was the not until 1944 that Iceland finally obtained full independence from the Danes and became, this time permanently, a republic.
⟰ Engraving commemorating Jørgenson on the Ross Bridge, Tasmania
PostScript: Jørgen Jørgenson, opportunist adventurer Jørgenson’s eventful life, both before and after his brief Icelandic escapade, was a entertaining cavalcade of alternating peaks and troughs. His autobiography makes the case for Jørgenson as “man of many parts”: “Being the Life and Adventures of Jörgen Jörgensen, Monarch of Iceland, Naval Captain, Revolutionist, British Diplomatic Agent, Author, Dramatist, Preacher, Political Prisoner, Gambler, Hospital Dispenser, Continental Traveller, Explorer, Editor, Expatriated Exile, and Colonial Constable.“ [Hogan, op.cit.]. Among other things, Jørgenson had two lengthy spells in Van Diemens Land (Tasmania), involved in the early exploration of that island✥; had a number of mandatory stays at “His Majesty’s Pleasure” (the Fleet Prison, Newmarket); was for a time a spy FOR the British; and in between adventures he wasted an inordinate amount of time engaged in nonstop gambling and drinking.
☤☤ ☤ ☤ ☤☤
Note: Icelanders today refer to Jørgenson as Jörundur hundadaga-Konyngur (“Jørgen the Dog-Days King”) (Icelanders tend to characterise summer as the “dog-days”).
☤☤ ☤ ☤ ☤☤ _____________________________________________ ✱ Jørgenson had called for the creation of a liberal constitution based on that of the United States and the French First Republic ✥ ‘Vandemonians’ have heaped on Jørgenson some of his more romanticised sobriquets, such as the “Founder of the City of Hobart Town” and the “Viking of Van Diemens Land”
The Much Mooted ‘Hillbilly Wars’ of Appalachia: The McCoy v. Hatfield Feud
One of the iconic historic associations with the hills of Appalachia is the fateful conflict in the last quarter of the 19th century between two mountain-dwelling families – the Hatfields and the McCoys. The feud between the two “warring clans” has tended to be wrapped in the veneer of legend, obscured by the myth-making of popular culture over the decades. The McCoy-Hatfield feud has featured in a raft of US books, songs, comic strips, feature movies and television shows (with both animated and human content)✱. These overwhelmingly fictionalised narratives of the Hatfields and the McCoys have vouchsafed a place for them in the annals of American folklore and at the same time contributed to the caricatured impression of ‘hillbillies’ in the popular consciousness.
Tug Fork Valley and the family patriarchs
In the 19th century the McCoys lived (as they do today) on the Kentucky side of Tug Fork (a tributary of the Big Sandy River), with the Hatfields residing on the other side of the river (in West Virginia). The Hatfield patriarch was William Anderson Hatfield, widely known as ‘Devil Anse’, while the patriarch of the McCoys was Randolph McCoy (sometimes identified as ‘Randall’ McCoy). Of the two families the Hatfields were appreciably more affluent than the McCoys (Devil Anse’s profitable timber business employed many men including some McCoys).
Patriarch of the Hatfield family, ‘Devil Anse’ ⬇
Background to the feud
The earliest incident between the two families seemed to have occurred during the Civil War…in 1865 Asa Harmon McCoy, who fought with the Union during the war, was ambushed and killed by members of a local Confederate militia connected to the Hatfield family. Some have identified the feud’s genesis in the murder, but Harmon McCoy’s siding with the North (while almost all of the McCoys and the Hatfields gave their allegiances to the Confederacy) made him unpopular with both families. His death did not trigger a reprisal and most historians have concluded that the incident was a stand-alone event [‘The Hatfield & McCoy Feud’, History, www.history.com].
A porcine pretext for feuding Some thirteen years after the shooting of Randall McCoy’s brother, a new incident was the catalyst for a downward decline in relations between the McCoys and the Hatfields. The trigger was a dispute over the ownership of a razorback hog in 1878. The McCoy clan claimed that the Hatfields had stolen one of their pigs. A subsequent legal case (known as the “Hog Trial”) was brought before the local Justice of the Peace (who happened to be a Hatfield), who predictably dismissed the charge…the McCoys responded by killing one of the allies of the Hatfields.
Makings of a vendetta: “Tit-for-tat” acts of vengeance Over the next ten to twelve years a pattern emerged of accusations, recriminations, acts of violence and retaliations – with excesses on both sides. Both clans used their connexions with the law in ‘home’ jurisdiction (either Kentucky or West Virginia) to try to exact retribution against the other. In separate incidents, the McCoy boys ‘arrested’ Johnse (pronounced “John-see”) Hatfield after he entered into a romantic liaison with Roseanna McCoy✦, followed in turn by Hatfield constables apprehending and extraditing three of Roseanna’s brothers for the killing of Devil Anse Hatfield’s brother Ellison.
Escalation and denouement of the feud
By now “bad blood” was endemic between the families. In the years after 1882 the conflict escalated dramatically…killings met with counter-killings (more than 12 members or associates of the two families died during the decade). A Hatfield raid on the McCoy patriarch’s farm in 1888 – known as the ‘New Year Night’s Massacre’ – resulted in the murder of two of Randolph McCoy’s children. The subsequent Battle of the Grapevine Creek, an attempt by the Hatfields to take out the McCoys once and for all, resulted in an ambush gone wrong…the tables were turned on the Hatfield raiders and the bulk of their number were arrested. Over the next few years they were tried and all given jail sentences (except one, possibly a ‘scapegoat’, who was executed). The ill feelings slowly dissipated with the conclusion of the trials and the conflict receded from memory – in 1890 the New York Times reported that the feud was at an end (there was in fact still the odd simmering flare-up such as in the mid 1890s but the potentially explosive incidents were effectively over) [‘A Long Feud Ended’, NYT, 06-Sep-1890, www.rarenewspapers.com].
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Scope of the feud: a media “beat-up”? While the McCoy-Hatfield feud played out in the Appalachians, the Eastern Seaboard press whetted the public’s imagination with its well-received accounts of the conflict. The press coverage tended to be negative, especially towards the wealthier Hatfields, who it portrayed as “violent backwoods hillbillies” roaming the mountains wreaking violence. As the shootings continued, what had been a local story of isolated homicides got national traction and was sensationalised by the newspapers.[‘History’, loc.cit.]. Some historians, in particular Altina Waller, have argued that the myth-making surrounding the ‘feud’ has obscured the realities and significance of the event. Waller’s contention is that the feud lasted only twelve years – from the hog episode to the sentencing of the Hatfields. [AL Waller, Feuds, Hatfields, McCoys and Social Change in Appalachia,1860-1900, (1988)].
Advocates for the Appalachian region tend to view the Hatfield-McCoy feud (as depicted by the press) as part of the widespread stereotyping of the entire mountain region [West Virginia Archives and History,, ‘Time Trail, West Virginia’ (1998), www.wvculture.org]. The negativity of the story and the focus on it by external mechanisms of popular culture is seen by many locals in Pike and Mingo counties (where the events took place) and the wider region as another example of the outside’s “Appalachia bashing”✥.
Matewan (WV) wall illustration: ⬆ depicting the Hatfield-McCoy feud
Economic underpinnings of the feud The feud at its height was a deeply personal one for both families, however an underlying factor in the hostilities was the depressed economic situation in Appalachia at the time. Resentment of Devil Anse Hatfield’s success as a timber merchant (contrasted with the less sanguine fortunes of the McCoys) no doubt played a part in the inter-family tensions. Given the McCoys’ struggle to make a go of farming their land, the incident of the stolen hog (from their perspective) was a serious economic setback for the family. Another player and prime mover behind the conflict was McCoy cousin Perry Cline, who hated Devil Anse and the Hatfields as much as any of the McCoys. Cline was sued by Devil Anse for allegedly cutting timber on Hatfield land. Devil Anse won the judgement and was awarded as damages all of Cline’s virgin West Virginian land (5,000 acres). From that point on, Cline, a lawyer, believing he had been robbed of his rightful property, unwaveringly pursued the Hatfields using his political connections in Kentucky. Cline’s actions, spurred on by the desire to payback Devil Anse Hatfield, helped revive and prolong the feud [AL Waller, ‘Hatfield-McCoy: Economic motives fuelled feud that tarred region’s image’, Lexington Herald Leader, 30-Jul-2012, www.kentucky.com].
Footnote: Rampant flourishing commercialism The famous feud is long-buried but not forgotten in the Tug Fork and Big Sandy River valleys. The opportunity for commercial advantage from the McCoys and Hatfields’ past remains alive…tourism of the area is well-served by the “Hatfield and McCoy Historical Site Restoration”. In the 21st century reunion festivals and marathons (“no feudin’, just runnin'”) have taken place. More crassly opportunistic was the appearance of descendants of the two families as contestants on the TV panel show ‘Family Feud’ in 1979 [‘Hatfield-McCoy feuds’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org].
PostScript: The ‘Sheep Wars’ The Hatfield-McCoy feud is not the only protracted inter-clan feud in American history, just the most famous. Arizona’s version of Hatfield v. McCoy was the Pleasant Valley Feud (AKA the ‘Tonto Range War’) which pitted the Grahams’ against the Tewksburys’ in the 1880s and ’90s…the Arizona-based feud was the classic “grazing war” of cattle-men versus sheep-herders, a recurring source of conflict in much of the ‘Old West’ [‘Arizona’s Pleasant Valley War’, www.legandsofamerica.com].
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Ya-hooo! The Ad-men milking the stereotype for all its worth…
✱ the preceding blog, ‘Ma and Pa Kettle on the Farm Again: Hillbilly Stereotypes in Film and Television’ touched on films based on the McCoy and Hatfield saga. Even in mainstream product advertising, the overly hirsute, “Moonshine-crazed”, “gun-toting” hillbilly trope permeates, eg. PepsiCo’s “Mountain Dew” soft drink ✦ the subject of a 1949 Hollywood B-movie (Roseanna McCoy) which largely fictionalised the cross-clan romance – New York Times‘ short-hand summation of the movie was “feudin’, fussin’ and lovin'”. The real Johnse later dumped Roseanna for another McCoy, her cousin Nancy who he married ✥ part of a whole litany of complaints by Appalachians about how they are portrayed in the media, in film and TV, by Democrat politicians in the big cities
Top Shelf Tesco, (Super)Market Leader: The Irresistible Rise of Britain’s Leading Grocer
In the UK’s highly competitive retail world Tesco plc is the kingpin grocer, at the top of the tree of Britain’s supermarket chains. With over 3,400 stores across the UK and a presence in around a dozen countries worldwide✱, Tesco pulled in revenue in 2017 to the tune of £55.9B. The retailer’s origins though, way back at the end of the Great War, were of course much more humble. Like fellow high-flying UK retailer, Marks and Spencer, it began with one man and a market stall operation.
Jack Cohen got the business ball rolling in 1919 with a basic stall✥ in the Well Street Market, Hackney, London…for start-up capital Cohen (born ‘Jacob Kohen’) had a £30 stipend from his recent WWI service. From his barrow and stall operation, the antecedent of Tesco, the 21-year-old started off selling matzos (unleavened Jewish crisp bread) and other army surplus food he had purchased. On opening day Cohen made a princely £1 profit from a grand total of £4 in sales [‘A History of Tesco: The rise of Britain’s biggest supermarket’, by Tim Clark and Szu Ping Chan, The Telegraph, 04-Oct-2014, www.telegraph.co.uk].
Genesis of the business name
In the early days, a big-ticket item that Cohen sold was tea from T E Stockwell (in fact the first product sold by Cohen under the Tesco brand). From the Stockwell name Cohen simply took the first three initials ‘T E S’ and added the first two letters of his own name ‘C O’ on to the end of it – thus forming the business’s famous name, ‘TESCO’ (and unsold “Stockwell Tea” got repackaged and rebranded as “Tesco Tea”).
From North London to the nation Cohen opened his first shop in Burnt Oak, near Edgware, North London, in 1931. Within a short period he had built the company headquarters and a central warehouse also in North London (Edmonton). The London retailer’s strategy was twofold – to expand by gradually buying out smaller grocery stores, and to buy the unsold merchandise other grocers couldn’t sell, which he would repackage and rebrand and then on-sell it to the public cheaper than anyone else (earning himself the nickname ‘Slasher Jack’) [‘Tesco UK, brief history and overview’, www.eeph.org.uk].
Cohen’s business motto, and therefore the company’s motto, was “pile it high and sell it cheap”, a straight-forward business philosophy of “low cost and high volume”✪ along the line of the large Woolworths chain. One of Cohen’s “bargain basement” product mainstays was ‘Snowflake’, a New Zealand canned milk which accounted (together with Tesco Tea) for much of the early Tesco sales [Sarah Ryle, The Making of Tesco: A Story of British Shopping (2013)]. By 1939 there were in excess of 100 Tesco shops all round the United Kingdom. Where Cohen chose to locate a Tesco, seems according to his daughter (the future Conservative MP Dame Shirley Porter) to have been something of an intuitive hunch. As she later explained, they’d be driving around town and “he’d suddenly say ‘this looks like a good place for a shop’ and he’d leap out and chat a few people up”. This was the very hands-on way Cohen would conduct market research [Ryle, op.cit.].
First with self-serve Jack Cohen’s introduction to the idea of self-service grocery outlets came on a visit to the US in 1935…Cohen was initially not impressed. The immediate postwar period in Britain was characterised by a hike in wholesale costs of goods, which could not be passed on to customers due to the burdens of postwar austerity. Cohen made a return visit to the US at this time, accompanied by his son-in-law Hymon Kreitman who was enthusiastic about the American self-serve concept as typified by the pioneering Piggly Wiggly supermarkets. Cohen, influenced by Kreitman, eventually opened Tesco’s (and Britain’s) very first self-service shop at St Albans (Herts.) in 1948 as a way of countering the rising costs of commodities. Another first for Tesco was the first supermarket in the UK, opened in 1958, located in Maldon, Essex (it featured separate counters for meat, butter and cheese) [‘Jack Cohen (businessman)’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org].
Maldon supermarket (interior) ⬇️
Expansionary growth The 1950s and ’60s for Tesco was marked by unbounded expansion through the acquiring of many smaller grocery shops. Among the scalps of small retail outlets claimed by the burgeoning company were Burnards stores, Williamson’s shops, Harrow stores, Irwin’s shops, Charles Phillips’ shops and the Victor-Value chain (this last concern was unloaded by Tesco in the Eighties). Between 1955 and 1960 alone, Cohen bought over 500 new shops across the country [‘Tesco: How one supermarket came to dominate’, (Denise Winterman), BBC Magazine, 09-Sep-2013, www.bbc.com].
After Jack died in 1979 Tesco’s expansionary trajectory continued unabated…there was a hostile takeover of Hillards supermarket chain in 1987, the acquisition of William Low shops in 1994 gave them a greater market concentration in Scotland, as did the snaring of Associated British Foods three years later for Ireland and Northern Ireland. The Safeways/BP shops, and a move into convenience stores T&S Stores and Adminstore followed. The opening of Tesco’s Leicester “super-sized” store in 1961 made it, at that time, the largest grocery store in Europe. By the 1990s Tesco had overtaken Sainsbury’s as Britain’s largest food retailer. So extensive has been the spread of Tesco shops, it is thought that only one postcode in the entire UK – Harrogate in North Yorkshire – doesn’t have a Tesco in it! [Clark & Chan, op.cit.].
Diversifying Tesco From the Sixties Tesco started to diversify in a big way! To the traditional staple of grocery lines were added clothing, books, furniture, software, internet services and in 1974 the sale of petrol. The Tesco Bank (financial services) was launched in a joint venture with the Royal Bank of Scotland, and later gained a foothold in the communications field with the advent of Tesco Mobile [‘Tesco’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org].
Diversification also meant a dilution of Slasher Jack’s traditional retail philosophy of providing only the cheapest of the cheap. This change-up saw Tesco for the first time add upmarket quality items to its catalogues. The physical nature of Tesco’s retail outlets diversified during this period. To the standard supermarket format was added hypermarkets (called Tesco Extra) at one end of the spectrum, and “one stop” shops/neighbourhood convenience stores (Tesco Express) at the other. In between these polarities were Tesco Metro and Tesco Superstores. Such market manoeuvrability by Tesco has drawn praise from business analysts – Citigroup’s David McCarthy acknowledges Tesco’s capacity to “appeal to all segments of the market” [‘Tesco: Supermarket Superpower’, (Hannah Liptrot), 03-Jun-2005, www.bbc.com]. It has also been (reluctantly) commended by a critic of the grocery Goliath for its “clinical efficiency with which it carries out its business plan” [Andrew Simms, Tescopoly: How One Shop Came Out on Top and Why it Matters, (2007)].
Internationalising Tesco Inevitably, growth and profitability at home meant external expansion for Tesco, a move towards globalisation. The company acquired various overseas market footholds with majority stake holdings in established Turkish supermarket chain Kipar and in Polish Leader Price wspanialy-rynki (supermarkets), among others. The overseas results however have tended to fall well short of Tesco’s stellar domestic performance. A 2006 move into the US market with the Fresh & Easy chain was unsuccessful, resulting in a £1.2B loss and in 2013 Tesco completed their pull-out from North America [‘Wikipedia’, op.cit.].
Too big, too damaging? The phenomenal retail success of Tesco ⌖ is encapsulated by the popular phrase in Britain, “£1 in every seven went into a Tesco till!” Inverness in the Scotland Highlands (known locally as ‘Tesco Town’) personifies the dominance of Tesco – 50p in every £1 spent on food, it is calculated, is derived from one of Tesco’s three shops in the northern city [Liptrot, loc.cit.; ‘The supermarket that ate a town’, (Lorna Martin), The Guardian, 01-Jan-2006, www.theguardian.com]. Other cities and towns across the UK share Inverness’ concerns of urban domination by the retailer…Seaton in Devon’s east is staring at the prospect of becoming another “Tesco Town”. Tesco has flagged plans to build a superstore, hundreds of ‘Tesco’ homes and a hotel in the small town, triggering determined local opposition to the scheme [‘This town has been sold to Tesco’, (Anna Minton), The Guardian, 05-May-2010, www.theguardian.com].
Ultimately, it is Tesco’s size that courts the company’s most strident criticism and opposition. Increasingly, the sheer size and scale of the supermarket empire gives it a disproportionate degree of bargaining power with manufacturers. Since 2000 the British authorities have sought to address the uncompetitive nature of the status quo, a code of practice was enacted in that year to try to curb Tesco’s (and other large retail players’) market dominance to the serious detriment of small traders in the UK (the National Consumer Council has described Tesco as “the Marmite of British business”). Interestingly, consumer surveys in the UK point to the consumer public’s “Janus-headed” take on Tesco, it ranks as both the “most trusted” and the “least trusted” of companies in the country! [David Gray (Analyst, Planet Retail), quoted in Winterman, op.cit.]. The recent Tesco takeover of Booker Wholesale Group (2017/18) for £3.7B, given the green light by the UK’s competition watchdog (CMA), has however provoked widespread disquiet within those in British society concerned at what they see as yet another monopolistic move for the retail behemoth [‘Tesco’s £3.7bn Booker takeover waved through by competition regular’, (A Armstrong & J Torrance), The Telegraph (UK), 20-Dec-2017, www.telegraph.co.uk].
Ripples in the Tesco ocean
The hostility of small retailers at Tesco’s strangulation of competition in the supermarket field❅ is not the only discordant note in Tesco’s recent history. Its high public profile has prompted at least two attempts at extortion using the threat of letter bombs…in 2000-2001 an individual tried to extort £5M from the supermarket giant (he was subsequently caught and jailed for 16 years); later a former tax inspector demanding £1M from Tesco, tried the same method (also apprehended and imprisoned). Tesco has tended to court controversy on occasions, eg, quantities of horsemeat were discovered in burgers and spaghetti sold by Tesco, and of course almost a by-product of runaway commercial success, there has been a slew of charges over the years that Tesco was engaging in tax avoidance schemes, tax minimisation, etc. Tesco was heavily criticised by the CEO of UNICEF UK in 2009 for appropriating the children’s charity’s slogan “Change for Good” and crassly using it for commercial advantage in company advertising [‘Unicef accuses Tesco of misusing charity slogan’, (Marie O’Halloran), The Irish Times, 25-Jul-2009, www.irishtimes.com]. As well there have been isolated incidences of individual Tesco shops discriminating against blind people (especially barring entry) [‘Tesco’, Wikipedia, op.cit.]. Tesco’s corporate response after such periodical outbreaks of bad PR has been to launch charm offensives aimed at the public (such as its “Good neighbour” policy in the 2000s) [Simms, loc,cit.].
Until very recently Tesco has experienced seemingly unstoppable success. However things troughed for the retailer during financial years 2013-14 and 2014-15, in the latter year Tesco lost £6.4B, its worse fiscal performance in 20 years! [Clark & Chan, op.cit.]. Since then the supermarket chain (boosted by acquiring the Booker cash and carry group) has to no one’s surprise bounced back, in 2018 recording its strongest growth in seven years (UK and Irish sales rose 3.5%). It has also just introduced Jack’s stores which it hopes will wrest back losses in the discount store market from front runners, German supermarket heavyweights, Aldi and Lidl [‘Tesco posts highest growth in seven years’, (Sarah Butler), The Guardian 15-Jun-2018, www.theguardian.com].
PostScript: Tesco to (super)market leader What makes Tesco a cut above its rivals? Enormity of size and utter ruthlessness and aggression in business dealings has been a factor, but according to some observers, the key to its success has been its ability to read customer behaviour: going way back Tesco has been meticulous about collecting raw data on what consumers were buying, invaluable information for anticipating future patterns, staying ahead of the curve! Tesco introduced loyalty schemes, personalised discounts and rewards for its customers, above all the Tesco Clubcard (“Every little helps”) – the card was an immediate hit, within a year of its debut (1995), Clubcard holders were spending 28% more at its stores and Tesco was number 1 with a bullet in the rankings of British grocers [Winterman, loc.cit; ‘The card up their sleeve’, The Guardian 19-Jul-2003, www.theguardian.com].
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✱ including stores in Ireland, Poland, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Slovakia, Malaysia, India, South Korea, Japan, Taiwan and Thailand (and previously in the US)
✥ his precise start in the world of retail sales was in fact as a barrow boy
✪ to which he added an internal one, actually a motivational pitch for sales staff, “YCDBSOYA” (You Can’t Do Business Sitting On Your Arse”) [‘Shirley Porter: Rich, flashy and corrupt with it. She’s nothing like a Dame’, (Sean O’Grady), The Independent, 16-Dec-2001, www.theindependent.co.uk]
⌖ fifth biggest grocery chain in the world, biggest UK retailer by sales, biggest UK employer (>330,000 staff) [Winterman, loc.cit.]
❅ for instance, the Office of Fair Trading investigated the company for allegedly forming a cartel of supermarkets (with Safeway, Asda, Morrisons and Sainsbury’s) to fix the price of dairy products
The United Fruit Company: Neocolonial Elites, Banana Monopolists and Oligarchs in the Tropical Americas, Part 2
In Part 1 we saw how robust intervention of the United Fruit Company and other commercially aggressive American companies in Central and South America brought about the socio-economic conditions that led to the characterisation of some of the countries therein as “banana republics”. This second part will focus on the experience of one particular country in the region, British Honduras (modern-day Belize), which, although a different type of polity to the other neighbouring states at the time, nonetheless exhibited the same or similar patterns of disruption and exploitation from the North American banana barons.
Pre-conditions for the banana importers
British Honduras in 1900 was a British crown colony, a status it had since 1862✱. At the head of the colony, the Crown’s representative, was the governor [‘British Honduras’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org]. Before bananas, the prized commodity in BH was timber – logwood, cedar, chicle, and above all mahogany✪. Moberg notes that despite the abolition of slavery in 1838, the conditions peculiar to British Honduras (BH) continued to perpetuate a debt servitude of rural workers to an oligarchy of local and immigrant land-holders. Nineteenth century BH economy was dependent on mahogany exports, a situation which created what has been described as an elite ‘forestocracy’ made up of timber companies and merchants (both domestic and foreign) [CH Grant]. This bound generations of forestry workers in BH to the powerful employer-class…one resident colonial secretary described the plight of the workforce as being “virtually enslaved for life”. Moberg’s case study describes the role of the British authority in this status quo as one of aiding and abetting the goals of the timber and mercantile elites [Moberg 1996].
Br.Honduras mahogany exports ▸
The debt peonage that the unskilled BH farm workers were forced into (known locally as the “advance-truck” system), helped create a climate favourable to industry (ie, cheap and docile labour force) in the later American intervention by banana companies. Banana industry workers on plantations inherited similar harsh working conditions, including being subjected to the draconian ‘Masters and Servants’ Acts. Checks on what the United Fruit Co (UFCo) could do within British Honduras resided at least on paper with the colonial chief official, the governor (after 1884), (formerly the lieutenant governor 1862-1884, who during which time was subordinate to the governor of Jamaica). As Moberg’s study shows, the will to resist United Fruit’s incursions into the colony varied considerably from governor to governor. Early governors like Goldsworthy earned the ire of the resident elites who agitated for more political power. Under pressure from the business elites and oligarchs, the Colonial Office (in London) was forced to curb the power of governors in the 1890s and give the Legislative Council (and especially its five ‘unofficial’ members) a right of veto over the governor. In the 1900s governors like Sweet-Escott and Swayne made token efforts to dilute the members’ clout on council (with minimal success), but most governors ultimately conceded power to the elites [ibid.].
Acceding to the demands of big foreign capital
The governors discovered that the interests of foreign capital in British Honduras – initially through British mercantile and timber firms but increasingly through a burgeoning of US investors❅ – could not be ignored. By around 1900 bananas represented 71% of the value of exports to the US✥. It amounted to increasingly significant revenue for the colony’s coffers. The British Honduras government saw it as vital to the colony’s economy. Moberg indicates that “despatches from the governors to the Colonial Office reveal an eager accommodation to the banana multinational”. One of the most compliant, Governor Wilson, proposed to his masters in London that the government build railroads in the colony as an incentive for United Fruit to invest. Governor Swayne, undergoing a 180° turn from his earlier opposition to UFCo, started to act like a “virtual agent for the company in London”, negotiating the approval of incredibly generous land concessions to UFCo…under its terms United Fruit was asked to pay only $1 an acre compared to between $3 and $8 an acre required of small landholders (and UFCo was largely exempted from standard land tax). Sometimes UFCo received land gratis or for virtually nothing in exchange for the company’s promise to build railroads in the tropical lowlands (which of course benefitted UFCo’s business!) [ibid.].
United Fruit Co’s corporate muscle-flexing On the rarer occasions that the BH government were reluctant to automatically lay down and do the American banana giant’s bidding, UFCo’s immediate reflex was to engage in bullying tactics against the government and threaten retaliatory action. When United Fruit asked the government for the unprecedented control of the British Honduras wireless (a very “banana republic” situation by which the British Central American colony’s entire radio communications would be held in foreign hands!), the Colonial Office declined its request. UFCo responded by withdrawing its steamship passenger line from service until the Colonial Office finally caved in to its demands for control of the radio system in 1911. UFCo took the same measure with its service on another occasion (which deprived the colony of mail delivery for over a month) in order to extract a higher subsidy payment from the government [ibid.].
United Fruit Co’s strategy in BH: Beginnings of the ‘Musaocracy’ When it commenced business as a buyer of bananas in Central America (1899/1900), UFCo embarked on a strategy that envisaged a monopoly situation end-game. One of the first moves was into transport. In 1900 UFCo acquired majority ownership of six Caribbean coast steamship lines⌖, this also gave it the government mail contract as well (the Belize Royal Mail). The strategy to maximise its stake in the colony’s bananas was clinical and precise: UFCo first raised the price it was paying to independent growers, this allowed it to eventually crush all competition from other buyers…a monopoly of the market achieved, the company was now free to “dictate ruinous prices and conditions to private growers”. At the same time United Fruit thwarted the marketing efforts of independent growers, thus denying them alternate sources for the sale of their produce [ibid.].
Restrictive competitive practices 101: United Fruit achieves vertical integration in bananas
After securing a stranglehold over the exporting side of the banana game in Belize and having established its own rail network to transport the produce, UFCo’s next step was to create its own banana plantations in the colony’s south at Stann Creek and Toledo. As a major BH producer United Fruit consolidated its position in several stages, it set about monopolising the land available for cultivation. By 1930, the land area of Belize cultivated by the company comprised 139,000 acres, but UFCo also held over 20 times this area of unused land in BH, seriously limiting the area of cultivable land available to competing planters. United Fruit’s price-fixing had the ultimate effect of decimating the local banana growers✧ [ibid.]
Fusarium wilt (‘Panama disease’) ⬆️
Industry reversals and exit strategy In the 1910s the banana business in British Honduras was hit by a series of natural and climatic disasters…heavy rains causing flooding with loss of 90% of banana crop; infectious diseases especially the Panama disease (a soil-borne fungus), particularly devastating to UFCo’s Middlesex and Stann Creek estates; poor cultivation techniques exacerbated the losses (reliance on primitive milpa cultivation). The persistence of Panama disease⊠ further depressed production and United Fruit gradually reduced its banana operations in BH and in some cases, in locations like South Stann Creek, eventually replaced banana cultivation with citrus fruit [ibid.].
⬇ UFCo promotional booklet (Source: JJ Burns Library, Boston College)
Successive Belize colonial governments were repeatedly outwitted by United Fruit negotiations leaving it in a default position vis-á-vis the US company that was inferior and subordinate. One weakness stemming from the contractual arrangements was the governors’ abject failure to make UFCo keep its side of bargains. When things started to go “belly-up” for United Fruit in the banana colony, UFCo in imperious contempt of their contractual obligations simply pulled the plug. To compound the folly, subsequently, the colonial officials meekly bought back the key Middlesex estate from United Fruit✜, incredibly and bizarrely on terms which allowed the withdrawing company to make a profit! [ibid.].
United Fruit’s activities in British Honduras were typical of its approach throughout the Caribbean littoral. Large-scale integration into the local economy with massive infrastructure, using its economic clout to manipulate the local authorities into making advantageous concessions banana market…control of the market in bananas allowed it to set artificial low prices which Belize suppliers were obliged to accept because they were bereft of alternate viable markets. BH, being a colony of the British, varied from the prevailing pattern in other Central and South American countries in only one respect, a lack of personal graft. Unlike the banana republics, UFCo had no recourse to bribery with the colony’s British career diplomats, but bluff and intimidation usually produced the results it sought. As Moberg noted, “Colonial officials acted on behalf of the multinational not from venality or corruption…rather (it) reflected an ascendant US political and economic influence…one that officials found increasingly difficult to resist” [ibid.].
Tentacles of ‘El pulpo’ (“the octopus”)
United Fruit was particularly adept at playing one country off against another. When British Honduran officials kicked back against the demands of the company, UFCo would make clear that not acquiescing to what it wanted, had serious consequences. A standard ploy was to pit British Honduras against neighbouring states. On the occasions that the BH governor would deviate from his default submissive position to UFCo demands, the company manager in Belize Town would drop none-too-subtle hints about moving the centre of United Fruit’s Central American banana operations to Puerto Cortés in Hondurus. Similarly, United Fruit would also periodically issue threats to both Guatemala and British Honduras that it would switch its investments from one to the other [ibid.]
PostScript: Modern Belize Tiny British Honduras was one of the last crown colonies in the Americas to shed the shackles of European colonialism. It achieved self-governing status in 1964, renamed Belize in 1973, it finally gained full independence from Britain in 1981. Mestizos, Creoles, Maya and Garifuna make up around 90% of the population. Belize’s much delayed passage to full independence largely stems from its neighbour Guatemala’s long-standing claim on the territory of Belize (or part thereof). Guatemala’s largely military regimes have aggressively pursued its claim (including making a number of threats to invade Belize and border-massing of troops since the 1940s), with Guatemala refusing to recognise the new nation in 1981. Accordingly the UK maintained armed forces in Belize after independence (till 2011) [‘Belizean-Guatemalan territorial dispute’, Wikipedia, http://en.m.wikipedia.org].
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✱ although as far back as 1783 a local British presence had existed following the Treaty of Versailles which gave them the right to cut logwood between the Hondo and Belize Rivers
✪ the following, outlining what transpired in British Honduras in particular between 1900 and 1920, is heavily based on a case study by Mark Moberg [Moberg, Mark. “Crown Colony as Banana Republic: The United Fruit Company in British Honduras, 1900-1920.” Journal of Latin American Studies, vol. 28, no. 2, 1996, pp. 357–381. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/157625]
❅ by the early 1900s US capital had attained a hegemonic position in BH (overtaking British capital) as it was in the rest of the Caribbean littoral
✥ at the same time the Belize mahogany trade was starting to taper off
⌖ UFCo’s passenger and cargo ships were known as the Great White Fleet. The ships were painted white apparently to keep the shipment of bananas cooler! [‘United Fruit Company: The Great White Fleet’,https://visitpuertoarmuelles.com]
✧ tactics replicated elsewhere in the region with similar results – the independent Jamaican growers, the Jamaican Banana Producers’ Association, resisted the United Fruit Co dominance of the Caribbean island’s market for a time but in the end couldn’t compete in a price war
⊠ United Fruit established very large plantations in different countries (known as ‘divisions’), when Panama disease hit, it would abandon the farm and relocate…each time UFCo would “systemically destroy the infrastructure (railroads, bridges, telephone lines, etc) to prevent competitors from being able to renew production on a smaller scale” [PI Bourgois, Ethnicity at Work, cited in Moberg]
✜ these days United Fruit Co goes under the banner of ‘Chiquita Brands International’ (still extensively in bananas)