The Ethics of Boycotting

Buying bottled water has become a problem. I will not buy Dasani or Poland Spring because both Coca-Cola and Nestle, their respective producers, employ inhumane business practices abroad. Coke has robbed farms and communities in India of precious groundwater and allegedly condoned the assassination of union leaders in Colombia. Nestle has capitalized on the fears of HIV/AIDS-infected mothers in Africa, urging them to buy formula for their children, which often results in these children’s deaths because of missed nutrition from the lack of breastfeeding. The only way that I can tangibly influence the market against its apathy toward today’s awful business practices is by altering my decisions as a consumer, and so that is what I have tried to do.

Capitalism promises consumers that their demand, or, more specifically, their money, is integral to the economy. If we consumers hope to exert any influence on the way our economy functions, we must use the power of our choices and our money to denounce whatever we find unacceptable.

Even if personal boycotts are economically ineffective, they still make a statement of what we as consumers will and will not tolerate. In the long term, the most productive and effective boycotts do not merely attempt to punish companies for their exploitation by robbing them of their profits. Instead, they should collectively compel companies to actually change their practices by demonstrating what consumers will not tolerate, and more importantly, what price increases they will tolerate to “pay for” more humane business practices.

Choosing to join a large-scale boycott is not as simple as connecting the dots between Coke’s inhumane practices and a decision to no longer drink Coke. This simplistic view is an easy and naive way for consumers to feel good about their buying power and ability to influence the market because it ignores potentially adverse consequences. Assuming a boycott has the strength to hurt a company’s profits, thoughtful consumers must consider the implications of the “success” of boycotting Coke for its reprehensible actions.

If Coca-Cola ceded to protesters’ demands and spent more on workers’ factory conditions and environmental disposals, the prices of its product would necessarily go up. If their customers are not willing to pay these increased prices and stop buying the products, Coca-Cola will produce less, causing its workers to lose their jobs. Thus, the boycott will have harmed the very people it aimed to help.

Similarly, protesters often argue that Nike has monopsonist power over the job market in some countries, which allows Nike to underpay its workers for lower costs and higher profits. Because of this, Nike—and other companies with similar employment situations—should sacrifice some of their profits to pay their employees better, since the employees’ only option is to work for Nike (or to not work at all). But simply arguing that Nike has a fiduciary “duty” to employees or that it “should” return some of its profits because it has so much will be fruitless; the only thing that Nike and almost every other for-profit company cares about is its bottom line, and arguing about moral imperatives—no matter how profound—does not affect the bottom line. Nike would fire workers if consumers did not take the hit and pay for laborers’ increased wages.

In situations like these, it is obviously difficult to communicate with Coca-Cola to tell them, “Don’t worry, I’ll pay 10 more cents for this can of Coke if you don’t pollute the Ganges River.” But, in some forms of protests, this dialogue is possible, such as the recent campaign on Harvard’s campus against Coca-Cola.

The Kick Coke Off Campus movement attempts to end university contracts with Coca-Cola in protest of its alleged human rights and environmental violations. College students do not constitute a particularly large portion of the corporation’s profits, but the collective movement of students around the world is both symbolic and potentially influential.

Coca-Cola wants to maintain its reputation with young people and keep them customers for life. University-wide contracts are crucial to this loyalty. A boycott that successfully forced a university’s administration to terminate its contracts and divest in Coca-Cola (which has happened at colleges such as Smith in Amherst, Massachusetts) is a real way for students to do something about the company’s business practices.

The threat of such a boycott and the negative publicity associated with it are the key issues that (thankfully) pushed Coca-Cola to agree to investigations last spring. But again, the only way that workers can be saved from losing their jobs is if the protesters demonstrate their own willingness to pay more for products. As Coca-Cola could see from Killer Coke’s campaign to incorporate local soda makers into Harvard University Dining Services (which likely would have cost more money), money is less of an issue than humanity.

The socially conscious, boycotting students show that there are some Americans who are willing to pay a little bit more for their luxuries instead of bearing the costs of exploitation. Such consumers can work with corporations to develop an understanding by which products may be more expensive but some of the profits will be used to fix the objectionable practices. Companies like Starbucks provide an additional service, i.e. supporting fair trade coffee for a greater cost which its consumers are willing to pay. Such a negotiation should be the ultimate goal of boycotts.

Unfortunately, not all boycotts fit this mold, and often they are founded on illogical premises or myopic hatred for “big business.” For now, my goal remains to avoid supporting questionable corporations, and hopefully other people feel the same way. One person’s boycott is a drop in the bucket, but a collective protest might be enough to make it overflow.

Rachel M Singh ’10, a Crimson editorial editor, lives in Matthews Hall.