Made on Earth (10 page)

I saw the special offer the very same day, and secretly planned to buy one the following morning.

12 January 2006

After breakfast I slip on my fleece body warmer and go into my office. The book that I completed at the end of the previous year is not quite finished: I have to take in some corrections that the publisher has asked me to make. While I edit the text, I think about how pleased I am with this fleece! I don’t care how it looks, I don’t have a mirror in my office. I’m so much warmer now. It’s only when I go to the bathroom or fetch a book from the shelf in the living room that my girlfriend reminds me of how silly I look. Oh well, it’s just a question of time. She’ll be used to it in two or three weeks.

24 June 2006

This summer, the world’s eyes are turned to Germany. It’s the football World Cup and we are the host country. Football fans from Africa and South America are amazed at how clean everything is and how punctual the trains and buses are. Everyone celebrates together in homes, stadiums and bars, and even the footballers play fair, well . . . for the most part. The World Cup is a challenging time for me. I’m in the middle of writing a new book, which is what I should be concentrating on, but I also want to be part of Germany’s ongoing World Cup party!

My red body warmer is resting on the back of my office chair. I’m wearing a different lucky charm for the World Cup: my yellow and black Dortmund football jersey that I was given as a present when I was a teenager. Today Germany are playing Sweden, and there’s a small black and white television set up next to my computer screen. Unfortunately, on a black and white TV, it’s very hard to distinguish the ball from the background. I sit in front of the computer and the mini-TV, trying to keep both screens in sight. Then it happens . . . Germany are making a break for the Swedish goal. I can’t tell if it’s Schweinsteiger or Klose who has the ball . . . the attacker shoots! I think the ball’s gone in – I leap into the air, cheering in celebration, and my arm hits a bottle of red wine I’d left on a shelf behind me the night before. The wine spills, some of it lands on my fleece – and Germany haven’t even scored a goal! So, this is how the stain ended up on my fleece. I couldn’t wash it out, so I relegated the fleece to life inside my wardrobe, and promptly forgot all about it.

28 September 2006

My work’s been going much more slowly than anticipated for the last few weeks. I get distracted far too easily. Why can’t I concentrate? And since when have I been like this? I can’t answer the first question, but I can give a precise answer to the second: since the day I put my red fleece in the wardrobe. I’m not a superstitious person, but I get my fleece out anyway, it’s got to be worth a try, right? Writing seems so much easier all of a sudden. By the end of the day, I’ve written half a chapter. On top of this, I’ve also come up with a new idea for a book about globalisation. I know that my fleece is not really bringing me good luck. But the problem is, I have a
very active
imagination.

15 April 2007

Ta da! On my computer screen is a message of acceptance from my publisher. They want my globalisation book. I take out a piece of paper and brainstorm some initial thoughts. What does globalisation mean in practice? What do we think of when we think about globalisation? Moving jobs and work to where they can be done more cheaply. First to Eastern Europe, then to the Far East. This doesn’t result in better pay for workers and more equal sharing of profits, but rather in increased damage to both people and the environment. Along with these negatives however, there are also positives. It means that new jobs are being created for people in underdeveloped regions of the world. Consumers in the developed West also benefit from globalisation, as many products have become much cheaper due to international manufacturing. Ideas, money, goods and people travel around the world . . . It’s hard to say what
is
worthwhile and what
isn’t
.

16 May 2007

Every working day begins with the same ritual. I prepare breakfast and open the manuscript I’d been working on the day before. Then I put on my fleece. Most of the time, I come up with a great idea while I eat breakfast. The research for the globalisation book is going well. Germany may not have become World Cup champions last year, but I have discovered that, in terms of machine production and many other industrial processes, Germany are unbeatable. Where do all the buttons for all the clothes made in China and Bangladesh come from? For the most part they’re made in Bielefeld, Germany. The German Button Union is the world leader in this sector. Economics professor Hermann Simon calls companies such as this ‘Hidden Champions’. They are hidden for two reasons: firstly, they are of no international interest as they only have around a hundred employees, and secondly, because they don’t ever appear in the media.

‘Hidden Champions’ usually excel in areas that no one else is interested in. Who builds the most cigarette dispensers in the world? Korber Ltd. in Hamburg. Who builds 80 per cent of bridge cranes, like the ones used in the Hamburg container port? Kirow, a firm based in Leipzig. Who ships out the most shopping trolleys? Wanzl based in Leipheim. Who produces the largest wind turbines in the world, and in the greatest numbers? Enercoon in Aurich. Economic scientists have, up until now, found 1,316 examples of such ‘Hidden Champions’ – and they’re finding more every day.

Winners or Losers of Globalisation?

Germany is simultaneously a winner
and
loser of globalisation. Over the last 25 years, Germany’s unemployment levels have increased as more and more jobs have been outsourced abroad. These are predominantly in the coal and steel industries, but also in manufacturing and assembly plants. Assembly plants are factories where electrical equipment is put together, or clothes are sewn. Employers in Germany have taken the threat of overseas competition very seriously. To save money, employees are made redundant, and wages are either frozen or reduced. More recently however, fewer jobs have been outsourced to countries outside of Germany, and Germany is once again an attractive place for businesses to set up and grow.

Germany, as a nation, is rich. The country is worth  approximately €5.4 billion euros! That would be €81,000 euros per person – if the money was distributed equally. In reality, 10 per cent of the population own 60 per cent of the nation’s wealth, 40 per cent of the population own the other 40 per cent of the nation’s wealth, and the other 50 per cent of the population have nothing or are in debt. Those who have money can capitalise on globalisation: they can buy shares in businesses or set up new businesses. Those who have nothing on the other hand have to struggle to make ends meet. Globalisation is responsible for creating an ever-increasing gap between the rich and the poor. Most of the winners and losers can be separated into two kinds of people: the employees who have to work harder and harder, but don’t receive any increase in payment for their efforts, and investors who profit from globalisation.

23 July 2007

It’s been too warm to wear the fleece since June, so these days it just hangs on the back of my chair while I sit in my office researching my book about globalisation. Globalisation doesn’t have a face; it’s a creeping, ever-changing process that’s hard to pin down and define. But this summer all that will change: the G8 Summit is taking place in Heiligendamm, Germany, near the Baltic Sea. The heads of state of the eight most important countries in the world are meeting to align their political and economic interests. These are the countries that drive globalisation above all others.

According to the World Trade Organisation (WTO), these heads of state speak with ‘forked tongues’. By this, they mean that they say one thing, but do another. The WTO was formed by the United Nations as a neutral referee to keep an eye on globalisation. They know all too well that these industrialised nations will do everything they can to break down the trade barriers of poorer countries, while working just as hard to protect their own countries’ production interests. The US for example, protects and subsidises its own domestic production, especially the cotton industry. This is so they can offer their cotton at a much lower price than farmers in Africa or Asia on the world market. At the same time, the US imposes an import tax on three quarters of all goods entering the country. In the same way, the European Union also subsidises many of its producers, such as the agriculture and fishing industries, in order to maintain its domestic industry.

2 September 2007

My quirky obsession with always having my fleece to hand has had some inevitable consequences: it looks battered and worn out and it’s covered in marks and stains. I don’t mind – but my girlfriend cant stand it! Instead of a greeting, whenever she comes home from work, I hear, “I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t want to come home and see you in that grubby body warmer! It’s disgusting!”

“Why?” I always ask.

“Because even the stains have stains!” she cries.

“The stains aren’t hurting anyone,” I feebly protest. Although even I am aware that it looks pretty horrible.

“Well buy a new one!” she goes on. “It’s not like it was expensive . . .”

It’s true. Increasingly, we replace old things at the drop of a hat. What do you do when one of your household appliances breaks? Have it repaired? Why? It’ll probably cost just about as much money to buy a new one. Mobile phones and computers become out of date within two years. And what about clothing that’s stained, torn or has got too small? No one sews these days, so if something’s damaged, no one will fix it. Plus it looks pretty uncool to wear something that’s clearly been repaired. Thanks to globalisation, clothing is so cheap you can just buy something new, and throw away the old and broken stuff. But unlike most people, I won’t be parted from my lucky charm, my grubby, red fleece body warmer.

6 November 2007

I come home one evening from a day trip, sit at my computer, feel around behind me for my fleece – and can’t find it! It’s not there. Maybe I left it in the kitchen. No! Or in the living room? No. It’s not in the bathroom either. I start to panic.

“Darling, have you seen my fleece?” I ask my girlfriend.

“Yeah, I washed it,” she says, “but the stains really wouldn’t come out this time, so I dropped it off at the clothing recycling bin on my way to –”

“My fleece!” I cry, interrupting her.

“Yes, I thought we agreed you were going to buy a new one!”

We agreed?
I think, incredulously.
No, she had suggested that. Not me.

“I wanted to keep at least a little bit of it for luck,” I tell her, aware of how silly I sound.

“But no one would be able to wear it if it had a hole in it,” she replies.

I don’t have time to argue with her. “Did you put it in the container in Moltkeplatz?” I demand.

“Why? You’re not actually going to go down there are you . . .”

I was already on my way out of the door. I cycled at top speed to the recycling container. It’s a huge grey box with a charity logo on the front. Maybe I’ll be able to get our bag of clothes back out of it. But when I get there, there’s a truck parked beside it. Three men are sorting through the bags of clothes, but they don’t look like charity workers to me. Then I remembered reading an article about how some charities no longer pick up the clothing from recycling bins themselves. They rent out the containers to firms who specialise in selling used clothing. I ask the men which company they work for. One of them gets annoyed with me and shouts, “It’s none of your business!”

I walk back to my bike, but stay within watching distance. I’m not put off that easily. A lot of people give their old clothing to charity because they think it goes to a good cause. But does it really? The charity whose logo is on the front of this particular container has probably only licensed the clothing collectors to use their name and branding. It’s likely they have nothing to do with the clothing once it’s collected. So who’s behind this business of selling our used clothes? I want to know, and I think about following them. But that would be pretty hard on a bike. I cycle home and look up the closest clothing recycling company in the
Gelben Seiten
– the Yellow Pages. All I need to do now is find them.

My investigation takes me to an industrial area on the outskirts of the city. Behind a barred gate I can see a large yard filled with trucks and shipping containers. I get off my bike, call over one of the workers and ask to see the boss. Heiner Schulz comes over to me and asks what or who I’m looking for. I tell him that I’m looking for my fleece. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in,” he tells me. I decide to try another tack. I pull out my press pass and explain that I want to write a story about clothing recycling. It turns out that Heiner Schulz is a really nice guy. He speaks very openly about his company and the whole industry. We walk through the yard into a huge factory hall. It’s filled with clothing, bed covers and balls of material. There’s no sign of the charity’s branding here.