As one of the world’s biggest garment-manufacturing hubs, the small country of Bangladesh has rattled the fashion industry. Film director Andrew Morgan travels to Dhaka to document the story of the factory workers.
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Andrew Morgan
A still from The True Cost
A still from The True Cost
A still from The True Cost
A still from The True Cost
A still from The True Cost
A still from The True Cost
A still from The True Cost
The True Cost
As India’s eastern neighbour, Bangladesh is often seen as a farming and fishing country, with its fertile soils and plentiful waterways feeding the Bay of Bengal. It also happens to be home to a US$26-billion clothing industry that accounts for 80 per cent of the nation’s exports, ranking just behind China as the world’s largest apparel manufacturer supplying to Western countries. “I still remember the sea of patterns and colours in the saris worn by the crowds of garment workers at rush hour in Dhaka,” muses Andrew Morgan, the film director behind the 2015 documentary The True Cost. Based on the 2013 Rana Plaza tragedy, where a deteriorating eight-storeyed building housing several garment factories linked to supplying retail giants like H&M, Walmart, Primark and Mango collapsed, killing 1,138 people and injuring over 2,500. Like the 29-year-old American cinematographer, the world was stunned. With a far lower minimum wage (one third of China), it plays a key role in the fast-fashion supply chain. But if cheap clothing comes at human cost, what really becomes the price of fashion?
You don’t have a fashion background. What lead you to create The True Cost?
The day after I wrapped shooting After The End, I was getting coffee when I was instantly drawn to a photograph on the cover of a newspaper. It was an image of two boys, close in age to my own two boys, standing in front of a wall of missing-people signs. I had to pick it up immediately. It turned out to be the story of the Rana Plaza collapse. I remember standing there and thinking how it’s possible that an industry this powerful is doing business in a way that leads to the loss and lessening of human rights. And then, on a more personal level, I thought how it was possible that I never stopped to think about where my clothes come from. That really left me with a very humbling, chilling feeling.
Why did you pick film as a medium to convey this story?
Telling a story through film is the most compelling thing in the world. It’s really like falling in love. I have to personally be fascinated, curious and dying to find answers to the questions. The more I looked at this topic, the more I found that it touched all the things I really cared about: women’s issues (most of the garment workers are female), human rights and the environment. I also wanted the film to be uncomfortably close; I wanted the visuals to cut through the worlds that we like to keep separate.
While doing the research, what numbers really stood out to you?
The fashion industry is an almost US$3-trillion global industry, with 80 billion new garments made every year. That is a 400 per cent increase in the last two decades. When you read Vogue, or observe fashion, you typically look at it through a creative lens as something beautiful. But on the business side the numbers are staggering. It’s also the most labour-dependent industry on earth. We employ the poorest of the working poor and I’ve never read about them, I’ve never heard them speak, I’ve never heard their story. It’s like they are invisible.
What made the story of Shima, a garment worker in your film, so powerful?
I was looking for a key character that could represent and speak on behalf of the female garment workers. Shima had a boldness, a toughness, a resilience. She was a mother too. Before her responses were even translated to me, I knew she was the one, and she would be an honest portrayal.
What was the most emotional scene to film for you?
The scene that gripped me was when Shima went to the village of Borishal to drop her daughter off. As a parent it was just heartbreaking. She told me that this might be my life, my fate, but I don’t want my daughter to work in a garment factory like me. I remember crying my eyes out that night, just wanting to go home to my kids. It just does something to you; it moves it out of the abstract.
What was your overall experience in Bangladesh like?
There is something about the whole spirit of the country—there’s a distinct purity to it and a certain courage that emanates from people. Everyone was always so friendly and welcomed us into their homes. We would be walking with expensive equipment through slums and dark areas at night, amongst so much poverty, but we never once felt unsafe. Safia Minney, founder and CEO of People Tree, took me to the Swallows Development Society in Thanapara village, which was an incredible fair-trade production community.
What challenges did you face while trying to film in the garment factories?
At times it was like robbing a bank, because the guards had guns. Sometimes we had to go in through the back door, stall and distract, just to get the inside shots.
What changes would you like to see taking place for the garment workers in Bangladesh?
I want to see a more organised representation of workers’ voices that extend all the way up the supply chain. There should be proper unions in place. The Rana Plaza collapse was a horrific example because the garment workers had pointed out the cracks and structural flaws in the building earlier, but their voices were not heard.
What about the flip side of the coin? Bangladesh’s garment industry provides 4 million jobs. Isn’t this a path out of poverty?
I think it is possible in 2016 to create beautiful products that are market-ready, to employ people in dignified ways, and still make a profit. I don’t just think that, I know that. There are no excuses to justify inhumane behaviour. With these profits why should their wage be negligible?
The year after the Rana Plaza collapse was the most profitable of all time for the fashion industry. How did that make you feel?
I was in Bangladesh when I read that chilling number. The line between empowerment and exploitation is thin, and looking at those dollar signs and the level of poverty in Bangladesh is really tough. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that Rana Plaza would bring the industry to its knees, but I hoped for more change in the country.
What do you think will be the future of fast fashion?
Fast fashion takes us in the opposite direction of where we need to be. I hope it will become outdated, irrelevant and obsolete. We are the first generation to grow up in a world where we can directly see the impact of our actions. We know the cost of our consumption.
The views expressed in this article are solely of the filmmaker.
The post How this filmmaker explored the grim side of the fashion industry appeared first on VOGUE India.