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	Special economic zones - local authorities turn a blind eye to labor rights violations by Matt Kennard, Claire Provost In These Times, agencies   Under Cambodian law, the right to organize is supposed to be ironclad. No employer, government agent or citizen may impede union activity. Inside the walls of Cambodia’s largest special economic zones (SEZs), however, In These Times’ reporters saw a system designed to tightly control the workforce by keeping workers fenced in and unions out. More than a dozen workers and labor activists confirmed that, while it''s not easy to independently organize anywhere in Cambodia, the law is flagrantly violated in SEZs. The result is seething discontent.   Over the past 50 years, more than half of the world’s countries have carved out pieces of their territories to hand over to foreign investors as SEZs. The International Labor Organization (ILO) estimates that more than 66 million people—most of them young migrant women—work in the world’s more than 3,000 SEZs.   After World War II, countries from Ireland to South Korea set up these zones in bids to attract foreign capital and create jobs. In the 1980s and 1990s, states in every region of the world followed suit. Today this model is experiencing a fresh surge in popularity, with countries from Burma to Cuba racing to open new zones.   “Any country that didn’t have [an SEZ] 10 years ago either does now or seems to be planning one,” the World Bank’s Thomas Farole told The Economist in 2015. But while the success of such zones is often gauged by how much foreign money they attract, or how much economic growth they generate, the voices of the millions of workers that power these spaces are seldom heard. This is the story of SEZs from workers perspectives.   Typically, the carrots offered investors are special tax and tariff breaks, as well as cheap land, water and electricity. In some countries, such as Pakistan and Namibia, these enclaves also confer exemptions to national labor laws. But even when this is not the case, these zones have become hotspots for workers’ rights violations.   In Shenzhen, China, one of the world’s oldest and largest SEZs, In These Times witnessed the second chapter of the SEZ story. SEZs offer the tacit—if not explicit—promise of a steady supply of cheap, biddable labor. Once an SEZ’s workforce mobilizes and begins to make demands, companies can simply move on to a new frontier. The ILO calls SEZs “a symptom of the race to the bottom in the global economy.” In Shenzhen, factory closures and redevelopment are leaving migrant workers jobless, homeless and desperate.   Early SEZs, such as those established in the Philippines in the 1960s and 1970s, were “almost like labor camps,” says Jonathan Bach, associate professor and chair of the global studies program at the New School in New York. “They were separate from the cities: You would bring in the workers, you’d house them in dormitories, you’d sort of use them up and get rid of them and then get new ones. And then if the cost of doing business got too expensive, or too problematic, if there were protests or something then you would just pack up and move somewhere else.”   This is still the model in many SEZs today. In some countries, governments have sweetened the pot by giving investors in these zones formal exemptions from national labor laws. In Pakistan, workers are forbidden to strike or take other industrial action in these enclaves.   In Togo, government labor inspectors struggle to enter the zones because of laws restricting their access. The website of the Nigeria Export Processing Zones Authority declares: “There shall be no strikes or lock-outs for a period of 10 years following the commencement of operations in the zone ... and any trade dispute arising within a zone shall be resolved by the Authority.”   But even where there aren’t these formal exemptions, local authorities in SEZs are regularly accused of turning a blind eye to labor rights violations.   * Access the full report via the link below. Matt Kennard and Claire Provost are fellows at the Centre for Investigative Journalism in London. Visit the related web page
	Weather-weary Indian farmers resort to new cash crop, selling their blood by Thomson Reuters Foundation, agencies India/Pakistan   Feb 2016   Weather-weary Indian farmers resort to new cash crop, selling their blood, by Shuriah Niazi for the Thomson Reuters Foundation.   Jhansi, India, Feb 17. 2016   Karna, a farmer from Badgaon village in northern India, has few options but to sell his blood for money, after persistent drought left him unable to live off his land.   The farmer, now 60, began commuting an hour and a half from his village to Jhansi town in Uttar Pradesh state for a job that paid little money.   "I was working as a labourer in Jhansi for survival," said Karna, who goes by one name. "When my son fell ill, I had no other option but to sell my blood for his treatment."   The hospital took almost two bottles of his blood and gave him 1,200 rupees ($17.50).   For many farmers in this part of Bundelkhand, blood is the new cash crop - a source of guaranteed income as they exhaust other ways of making ends meet.   In India, blood donors are not usually paid. But some hospitals buy blood, even though it is against the law.   Bundelkhand, a hilly region divided between the states of Madhya Pradesh and Uttar Pradesh, has struggled with extreme weather in the past few years.   Drought, hailstorms, unseasonal rainfall and most recently an unusually warm winter have played havoc with crop yields, making farming unviable for many.   Unemployment has soared, and locals are leaving the rural belt to work as unskilled labour in nearby urban areas.   Financial assistance provided by the authorities has failed to achieve much on the ground, as it is far lower than farmers losses.   Farmer Lakhan Ahirwar, 61, relies on intermittent labouring jobs to get through dry spells. But when work is scarce, selling his blood is the most reliable source of income.   "I could not find any work for almost five days," he said. "What should I do? I had to feed my children."   Rajendra Singh, a prominent water conservationist and winner of the Stockholm Water Prize, said it was "a matter of grave concern that farmers from many areas in Bundelkhand (have) sold their blood due to successive droughts".   Ahirwar, who once earned enough by selling tomatoes, potatoes and chillies grown on his 7 acres (3 hectares), is no longer in a position to provide two meals a day for his family. His only son migrated to New Delhi with his pregnant wife.   "Even during the eighth month of her pregnancy she had to work as a labourer in Delhi, as they had no other source of income for survival," said the farmer.   Tourists from all over the world who flock to Bundelkhand to visit Khajuraho, a world heritage site famous for its temples adorned with erotic carvings, are largely unaware of the plight of local farmers.   The region has received below-average rains since 2007, and is now facing its third successive year of drought. Agricultural production has declined substantially and livestock are suffering too.   Crops in nearly half the districts of Madhya Pradesh have been hit by insufficient rainfall, the state government says.   In neighbouring Uttar Pradesh, the situation is even worse, with 69 out of 71 districts receiving below-average rains in 2015, according to the India Meteorological Department.   Last year, unseasonably heavy rains and hailstorms devastated crops at the ripening stage in April and May in Bundelkhand. That was followed by drought in August and September, and a warm winter.   The freak winter badly affected the rabi crop, sown during the winter months, on around 40 percent of India''s farmland.   The negative effects have pushed some farmers to commit suicide, even as state governments scramble to ease the agrarian crisis.   More than 3,200 farmers in Bundelkhand alone have killed themselves in the last five years, according to official records. Crop losses and worries over debt are the main reasons.   Local leader Shivnarain Singh Parihar of the Bharatiya Kisan Sangh (Indian Farmers Union) said around two farmers per day, on average, are committing suicide in Bundelkhand.   Many farmers are forced to borrow money at exorbitant interest rates from private money lenders to buy seeds and fertiliser.   "They are in debt but can''t repay (it) and face harassment by lenders. So they are taking the extreme step of ending their lives," said Parihar, who fights for local farmers rights.   He himself has given money to the families of farmers who committed suicide, because they had nothing left to prepare for a funeral.   Parihar said Bundelkhand farmers were facing a hunger crisis, and state governments had failed to provide relief.   In late January, Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister Shivraj Singh Chouhan said all possible help would be provided to farmers in areas with a rainfall deficit. The state government said it had already deposited around $550 million in farmers accounts. But in Uttar Pradesh, little aid has been offered.   Those lucky enough to receive some money say it is not enough. For the elderly who cannot find work in the cities, selling blood and begging are perhaps the only choices left.   "I have two children and both of them are now working as labourers. I am too old to do anything, so I am begging to survive," said 80-year-old Moolchand, looking at passersby through sunken eyes. He gets little more than $1 a day.   Around 100 farmers from his village of Badgaon, home to 4,000 people, have resorted to begging amid the repeated droughts.   "Farming is a curse in Bundelkhand," Moolchand said tearfully. "No one cares for us - we will die one day in the absence of any help from the government."   http://news.trust.org/humanitarian/   17 Feb. 2016   Babies starving as food runs low in Pakistan''s drought-hit Tharparkar district, by Ashraf Ali in Tharparkar, Pakistan published by ABC News Australia.   Pakistan''s Tharparkar district is entering its third straight year of drought, with nearly 200 deaths since January — many of them children.   As I travel through the drought devastated Tharparkar district of Sindh province I am overcome in equal measure by shame and sorrow. Sorrow for the scores of children who have died in the drought and shame that these deaths could occur in modern Pakistan.   Already, I have encountered Jamna, who was taken to hospital only after developing fits at home.   "She started shivering and stopped her food intake to become weak day by day," Jamna''s grandmother Kasturi said. "A day later she started coughing severely, that prompted us to get her into a local health facility."   Then Jamna, 18 months old, was shifted to the district hospital at Mithi, the regional centre, where doctors diagnosed her as suffering from severe acute malnutrition.   Kasturi, who is 57, lives with 11 family members in a hut in the village of Moduru, located near the Pakistan-India border and 380 kilometres east of Karachi. She works at a farm along with her husband, Popu Chand, to feed their family. Jamna''s mother, as custom dictates, must minimise her contact with men and attend to home duties.   This is the third consecutive year of drought. Officially it has claimed 185 people, mostly children, since the beginning of January. Independent sources put the figure at well over 200.   The country''s National Commission for Human Rights has demanded a report from the Sindh Government and will send in a team to assess the crisis.   There are accusations more food aid should have been provided much earlier when the monsoon rains failed again.   "Malnutrition was found to be the most common cause for the high death toll," Dr Sikandar Raza, a paediatrician at the district hospital, said.   Tharparkar is home to 1.4 million people and also contains Pakistan''s largest desert. Water can be saline, causing abdominal pain, and is often only located in very deep wells.   The ill-equipped and poorly staffed health facilities at our disposal don''t leave us in a good position to cope with the situation.   Crops are grown on the marginal lands and livestock, which have been depleted by the drought, are important to its rudimentary economy. There is also a significant number of nomadic tribes.   Medical experts say the lack of safe drinking water, poor diet, poverty, low hygiene standards and ignorance all contribute to the malnutrition problem.   Water borne diseases such as diarrhoea, dysentery and cholera are common along with hepatitis B and C, hospital doctors said.   Dr Raza said the lack of adequate health facilities was a problem.   "Above all, the ill-equipped and poorly staffed health facilities at our disposal don''t leave us in a good position to cope with the situation," he said after treating another round of malnourished children.   "We have limited beds at the nutrition stabilisation centre - only seven. How can we cater to the needs of the patients coming from the whole district?"   40 per cent of Pakistani children malnourished: Nutrition report   According to a National Nutrition Survey report, 40 per cent of children across Pakistan are malnourished and almost 50 per cent of women are iron deficient.   The severe drought in Tharparkar has only magnified these problems, further exacerbated by the fact that less than 40 per cent of people across the country have been immunised against serious diseases.   Jamna''s uncle Rai Chand has also been looking after his niece. He said he did not have access to a balanced diet.   "We can hardly find some pulses or vegetables to eat with a piece of bread," he said. "It would be a luxury to find meat to eat at some point."   The district hospital''s data shows that children who have been admitted range in age from four days to 12 years.   The majority of the newborn babies in the incubators at Mithi''s hospital were suffering from birth asphyxia and other respiratory issues. Many were also premature deliveries.   The hospital''s doctors have a long list of equipment that is urgently needed — a trauma facility, a blood transfusion centre, a pathological laboratory, an ear, nose and throat specialist, a cardiac surgeon and more sophisticated incubators.   When the drought devastates Tharparkar, Rai Chand, like many from his community, goes to Karachi, Pakistan''s major commercial hub.   In Karachi, he earns money for food and supplies for his family, working at a market during the day and sleeping by the rail track under the Kala Pul bridge. He told me one day he will return with his earnings to his family in Tharparkar.   http://www.unicef.org/nutrition/ http://centreforequitystudies.org/launch-of-the-publication-state-food-provisioning-as-social-protection Visit the related web page
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