Covid-19 and the rise and fall of workers' rights in the meatpacking industry

A few weeks ago, our class discussed the immigrant experience in rural America--more specifically the exploitation of immigrant communities in rural America by the agricultural industry. Pulitzier-prize winning journalist Art Cullen wrote for the New York Times, In My Iowa Town, We Need Immigrants about the importance of immigrant communities in small towns like Storm Lake, Iowa, population: 11,269. 

The article reminded me of a reading my torts professor, Sarkar, assigned to our class 1L year. We were nearly a year removed from the initial statewide Covid-19 lockdown and still attending class via Zoom. My whole life was confined to my apartment and zoom classes. I was miserable. 

Professor Sarkar assigned The Battle for Waterloo by Michael Grabell and Bernice Yeung. He instructed us to skim the article so that we could briefly discuss possible tort liabilities arising from Covid-19 exposure in the workplace. 

As I began reading the article, I was drawn in and could not stop. It was the most powerful and important assignment I read that whole year. It tells a tragic story of the meat butchering industry in Waterloo, Iowa--from what it once was to what it has unfortunately became.

It also made me realize how lucky I was to be stuck inside my apartment while so many other people died because they did not have that option. Those other people, often designated "essential workers," had to work.

The Battle for Waterloo explores the complicated, intertwined story of race and labor in Waterloo, Iowa, population: 67,314. This story began when Black workers were recruited to come work as strikebreakers over 100 years ago. 

Before Tyson took over, the meatpacking industry was a pathway to financial stability for Black families in Waterloo. It also became an avenue for working class coalition and historic civil rights victories. Rath Packing Company was a family-owned pork processor where heavily unionized workers challenged management for better conditions and wages. 

The article tells a beautiful story of Rath's union, "Unlike most unions, it welcomed Black workers, and while Rath wasn't a racial utopia, the union's logo of a white hand clasping a Black one symbolized its belief that worked solidarity wouldn't exist without racial solidarity."

Moreover, Black workers' assignment to the particularly gruesome "kill floor" gave them the unexpected benefit of immense power over production and profits. The authors note that once upon a time, Black workers would simply wave a flag to halt production completely until their demands were met. Wages reached $24 to $32 an hour in today's dollars by the mid-1960s. 

Black and white workers used these same heroic strategies to tackle the discrimination Black citizens faced throughout the rest of the town, using their combined economic power to force change. 

This all began to change in the late 1960s when a new company, Iowa Beef Packers (IBP), which was later bought by Tyson, moved into the town and transformed the industry to automated factories that required less skilled labor. Rath tried to compete through layoffs and wage reductions but eventually closed its doors in 1985.

Grabell and Yeung note that the story of Rath is not unlike those told across the country within this industry. Many meatpacking plants went through a similar transfer of power between workers and employers. 

The story of IBP and Waterloo began when they came to the town promising 1,500 jobs, but these jobs were unlike the positions of empowerment found at Rath. IBP was known for working its employees hard and not worrying about turnover. They purposefully, "...tried to take the skill out of every step," stated IBP's co-founder. Once they had run through all the local employees of Waterloo, "...the industry turned to immigrants and refugees from some of the most vulnerable parts of the world."

Over the years, Tyson realized that refugee immigrant communities were their best bet because they had papers, so they were safe from immigration raids. Most importantly, "It was a population for whom exploitation was also an opportunity, and desperation silenced complaints."

By the time Covid came around, refugees from Myanmar, Congo, Marshall Islands, Micronesia, Liberia, Bosnia, Haiti, and more countries, worked in communities where they faced language barriers, health disparities, and cramped work environments that made them even more vulnerable to Covid.

The details of just how badly this whole health crisis was dealt with are horrific--from managers betting on how many employees would be infected and directing interpreters to downplay the severity of the pandemic, to OSHA relaxing its safety requirements at the instruction of the government, to workers vomiting from illness mid-shift and being told to continue working. 

At the time of the article, 1,500-1,800 of the workers at the Waterloo plant had contracted Covid. Researchers estimate that 236,000-310,000 Covid cases and 4,300-5,200 deaths can be linked back to community spread from meatpacking plant outbreaks. 

One of these deaths is thought to be Terry Mabry. A Waterloo resident and father whose family came to the area from Mississippi to work at Rath in the '60s. Terry's twin brother, Jerry, blames his death on the mishandling of the Tyson outbreak, stating, "'If it wasn't for Tyson's lying, the community would be a lot better off. I'd have a few more friends that are still living, and my best friend, my twin brother, still living. Somebody from Tyson should have went to jail." 

As we discussed potential tort liability my 1L year I couldn't help but to think of Jerry Mabry's words. To me, this ordeal goes so far past negligence. These refugee communities escaped wars, violence, corruption, famine, etc. and came to America to be killed at a Tyson plant because decision makers couldn't prioritize workers' safety over their high-hundred-million-dollar profits. And the government officials who were supposed to help them turned a blind eye. Even their own union representative, Steven Stokes, is quoted defending the plant for doing all it can and blaming employees for not cooperating.

So many people died--sick, scared, and isolated--because they were put in the impossibly desperate position to go to work and risk their lives or not be able to provide for their families. The article was a huge wake up call for myself, as I sat at home sad because I was overwhelmed and lonely, reading casebooks all day. What a privilege it was to be bored in the pandemic, while so many others' lives had to dangerously continue as if there wasn't a national health crisis.

As of today, it looks like no one has faced any criminal charges for the deaths of those lost at Tyson. The lawsuit appears to be ongoing, with the US Supreme Court refusing to hear arguments on why it should be moved from state court to federal court. I'm not sure if this refusal is a big deal, but I hope it is a good sign for all the families that suffered so much because of Tyson's exploitation. I hope they win so much money they never have to pack meat again. Unfortunately, Tyson will just find more vulnerable people to exploit in their absence. 

This blog by Professor Pruitt explores more stories dealing with Covid-19 outbreaks at meatpacking plants throughout the country.