This unimposing building, which serves as the headquarters of the North Carolina Growers Association, is the nation’s largest distribution point for Third World farm labor. Each year the warehouse receives and parcels out more than 10,000 Mexican men to farmers who need hands to pick tobacco, dig sweet potatoes, or harvest Christmas trees. Unlike other migrant workers, however, the men are not free to sell their labor to growers who offer the best wages and the fairest conditions. They have been imported by Stan Eury, a businessman who runs the association, under an obscure federal program known as H-2A. The program allows Eury to determine where Madrigal and the other “guestworkers” will live and work throughout the growing season. Members of Eury’s association pay him $498 a head — nearly $5 million a year — for the wage laborers, who are then often forced to work as many hours as required, under degrading and sometimes dangerous conditions. Those who fall sick or complain about unfair treatment risk getting deported. A separate company run by Eury imports 4,000 more workers in 20 states.
Launched after World War II and fine-tuned during the 1980s, the H-2A program was designed to allow farmers to temporarily employ foreign workers during periods of labor shortage. In reality, farmers are increasingly using H-2A to permanently replace American workers with a captive labor force. With little official oversight, growers simply turn away domestic workers, or offer wages so low that flipping burgers becomes more appealing. In effect, H-2A has turned NAFTA inside out: Since U.S. farms can’t go to the Third World, the federal government allows agribusiness to bring the Third World to U.S. farms. Some 42,000 workers on H-2A visas — mainly from Mexico, Jamaica, and Peru — now harvest tobacco in Virginia, clip onions in Georgia, pick apples in New England, cut sugarcane in Arkansas and Louisiana, herd sheep in Idaho and Nevada, and operate combines throughout the Midwest. A related program called H-1B allows employers to import 195,000 skilled workers a year, bringing computer programmers to Silicon Valley and other high-tech hot spots.
Although the federal government oversees wages and working conditions, farmers often mistreat H-2A workers without fear of being penalized. A six-month investigation of the program by
Mother Jones reveals widespread complaints that growers have threatened workers at gunpoint, refused them water in the fields, housed them in crumbling, rat-infested buildings where sewage bubbles up through the drains, and denied them medical care after exposing them to pesticides. Farmers control their visitors, their mail, even their weekly shopping trips. A study by the U.S. General Accounting Office notes that H-2A workers, knowing they can be deported at any time, “are unlikely to complain about worker protection violations, fearing they will lose their jobs or will not be hired in the future.” Workers say they have adopted several unwritten rules: Don’t gripe about wages and working conditions. Don’t seek the benefits you’re entitled to. Don’t make noise, even when your health is in jeopardy. “What you see, you must remain silent,” says a Jamaican H-2A worker assigned to a Massachusetts vegetable farm. “What you hear, remain silent.”
At the warehouse in Vass, Madrigal remains silent during an orientation for newcomers. Each time another shipment of men arrives, one of Stan Eury’s employees appears on the second-floor balcony, like a Mexican padrone, to welcome them in Spanish — and to warn them not to talk with farmworker advocates. “When the attorneys from Legal Services show up, watch out,” says Jay Hill of the Growers Association. “They want to take your job away from you.” Instead, Hill urges the men to call the association if they have concerns. “Your problem is my problem,” he says. “I can’t rest until the problems are solved.”
But after two seasons in the fields, experience has taught Madrigal not to trust his concerns to anyone with the H-2A program. “If I talk to the boss and say we’re in need of something, he could turn against me and fire me,” he says. Like his fellow workers, Madrigal has traveled thousands of miles to earn money for his family back home, and he’s not about to jeopardize his job by speaking up, even if things get bad. When the orientation ends, he boards another bus, this time bound for the farm that has purchased his labor for the next seven months. “They say it’s the Mexican’s dream to be here,” he says privately. “But many times it isn’t true. There’s a lot of suffering here.”
In theory, Madrigal and his co-workers are being brought to the United States because there’s no one else to do the job. Before receiving H-2A workers, farmers must advertise for American workers both locally and nationally, and then receive certification from the U.S. Department of Labor that there’s a scarcity of available labor. Even after guestworkers arrive, employers must hire any qualified, legal U.S. resident who applies for a job during the first half of the growing season.
Although the process is designed to ensure American workers get first crack at any jobs, only a handful wind up being hired. According to growers, that’s because few apply. “The unemployment rate is at a 30-year low,” says Stan Eury. “It doesn’t take an analyst to show you there’s a labor shortage. Anyone who says there’s not is an absolute idiot.” Farmwork, he adds, “operates at the bottom rung of the job ladder, and in a time of strong employment, those bottom rungs are the first vacated.”
In fact, study after study of the H-2A program concludes that there’s actually a surplus of agricultural labor, not a shortage. “Unemployment and underemployment are endemic among farmworkers,” says one Labor Department report. “Even at the seasonal peak in September, one-third of farmworkers are still not working in U.S. agriculture.” In studies and congressional testimony about the program, the General Accounting Office also dismisses the idea of a labor shortage. “Agricultural employers in most of the United States have had adequate supplies of labor for many years and continue to do so,” the GAO reports.
The agency acknowledges that some regions do experience local shortages, but notes that those might be alleviated “with fairly modest wage increases.” Instead, H-2A enables farmers — from small operators to corporate giants employing more than 600 workers — to effectively circumvent the free market, paying guestworkers as little as $6.39 an hour rather than raising hourly wages to attract U.S. workers. “A lot of farmers say, ‘I advertised for 300 jobs and no one applied,'” says Thom Myers, a farmworker advocate in Raleigh, North Carolina. “But what about the guy who runs a hardware store who has the same argument? What about the guy who runs a restaurant? If this was any other industry, the government would say, ‘Hey, raise your pay until the supply and demand curves cross.'”
Rather than pay market wages, H-2A growers have instead developed a litany of schemes to ward off domestic workers. In Idaho, the Snake River Farmer’s Association urged its members to write backbreaking job descriptions to discourage Americans from applying. “Irrigators or pipe movers is a great job description because no one wants to move pipe,” explains an association handout. Farmers in other states have turned away U.S. residents for being a few minutes late for interviews, or for not knowing the fine points of federal labor law. In North Carolina, the Growers Association says it hires domestic workers after a simple five-minute phone interview — but state officials describe the process as intentionally inefficient and even hostile. “They go out of their way to discourage local workers from seeking employment,” Lee Albritton, a former job-service employee, wrote in a memo to his supervisors. In 1999, the state found jobs on non-H-2A farms for 12,700 domestic workers. By contrast, on H-2A farms, the state found jobs for only seven workers.
To further discourage U.S. workers, growers often refuse to provide migrant crews the same kind of transportation they offer H-2A workers. “Farmers know that unless there’s travel money involved, no large number of domestic workers will get to the job site,” says Greg Schell, an attorney at Florida’s Migrant Farmworker Justice Project. “If they send a bus to the Rio Grande Valley or Belle Glade, Florida, they can get thousands of experienced farmworkers. But without a bus, the job may as well be on Mars.”