Cover Story of Wired Magazine

While I was in line at Berkeley Bowl, I was browsing the many magazines at the checkout counter as we waited. I usually pick out the latest Vanity Fair, and I have learned about many topics from this magazine, including Ralph Lauren's ridiculous car collection or Justin Bieber's jam-packed life.

This time, the cover of Wired magazine caught my eye. It said, "1 Million Workers. 90 Million iPhones. 17 Suicides. Who’s to Blame?" The piece opens by mentioning the noticeable nets around Foxconn, the company who manufactures Apple products and was the focus of Mike Daisey's "The Agony and the Ecstasy of Steve Jobs." As I read the article, I was expecting the author, who toured the Foxconn facility, to say that he was saddened by the conditions in the plant, that he couldn't believe that people worked in these conditions, etc.

Not the case. Instead, he writes:

It’s likely that your job will require you to sit or stand in place for most of your shift. Maybe you grab components from a bin and slot them into circuit boards as they move down a conveyer. Or you might tend a machine, feeding it tape that holds tiny microprocessors like candy on paper spools. Or you may sit next to a refrigerator-sized machine, checking its handiwork under a magnifying glass. Or you could sit at a bench with other technicians placing completed cell-phone circuit boards into lead-lined boxes resembling small kilns, testing each piece for electromagnetic interference.

If you have to go to the bathroom, you raise your hand until your spot on the line can be covered. You get an hour for lunch and two 10-minute breaks; roles are switched up every few days for cross-training. It seems incredibly boring—like factory work anywhere in the developed world.

I was somewhat taken aback. What do you mean the conditions are the same as they are in the developed world? What happened to the terrible, repetitive motion? The 15 hour days? The crammed living conditions? Well, the author asserts that during his tour of the facility, he saw workers laughing together on the "campus" and visited living quarters that resembled a college dorm.

While he writes all this, he also says that our eyes should be on Foxconn because of the overtime they often require of their workers. And comforting ourselves with the notion that our consumerism is making both our lives and the lives of the workers better only causes guilt.

When that small appeasement is challenged even slightly, when that thin, taut cord that connects our consumption to the nameless millions who make our lifestyle possible snaps even for a moment, the gulf we find ourselves peering into—a yawning, endless future of emptiness on a squandered planet—becomes too much to bear.

When 17 people take their lives, I ask myself, did I in my desire hurt them? Even just a little?

And of course the answer, inevitable and immeasurable as the fluttering silence of our sun, is yes.

Just a little.

For me, it is too much to bear, and I will continue my quest for a more thoughtful consumer lifestyle.