Trade justice activism is messy, uncertain, nonlinear, all over the place, inspiring, worrying, powerful.
On followthethings.com ‘shopping’ has an important double meaning.
On the one hand, it means “to seek or examine goods, property, etc. offered for sale”.
On the other hand, it means “to behave treacherously toward; inform on; betray” or “to give away information about” those goods, property, etc.
Anyone who makes trade justice activism, and anyone who visits this site, is a ‘shopper’.
"Whoever said money can't buy happiness, simply didn't know where to go shopping" - Bo Derek.
followthethings.com encourages another kind of shopping.
🎁 It's never too early for seasonal shopping
👻 Who's haunting Halloween?
Who wrote the 'please kindly resend this letter to the World Human Right Organization' letter that shopper Julie Keith found in her Halloween decorations? Find out here.
🎅 Who's been good this year?
See our NEW page on this short film here. Get ready for Christmas with followthethings.com's shopping list of educational resources & readings here.
Tag: Cross cultures
INTENTION: nationalist discourses like to insist that the world’s cultures, faiths, languages, traditions, flora, fauna are separate and that mixture is the root of all problems. But, thousands of years of international trade & migration suggest that mixture is everywhere. Supply chains cross every boundary, connect everybody, as one human family. So your activism can promote a ‘global sense of place’.
“Mirror“ Undergraduate coursework written by Lucinda Lawrence.
The students’ first task in the ‘Geographies of Material Culture’ module at the University of Exeter is to make a personal connection between their lives and the lives of others elsewhere in the world who made the things they buy. These are the people who help you to be you, followthethings.com CEO Ian tells them. So choose a commodity that matters to you, that’s an important part of your identity, that you couldn’t do without. Think about its component parts, its materials, and the properties they give to that commodity and your experience of ‘consuming it’. And write a 500 word first person account that connects your lives. One student – Lucinda Lawrence – creates the most ‘meta’ example we have ever seen. It’s about a mirror that she bought in a market. It’s about the science and ingredients of mirrors. It’s about the people who mine its ingredients. Like tin. It’s about who you see when you look in the mirror, who helps you to be you. And – aaaand – she submits two things. A piece of paper with some typed writing on it. And a mirror. The writing has been reversed, so it can only be read in the mirror. And the mirror has a message written in red lipstick on its surface. ”If you fall, no one’s gonna carry you out (Rubin Age 13)’ (Cook 2007, p,2).’ It’s a fantastic piece of work. But you’ll need a mirror to read it. It’s worth the effort! When we showed this at an academic conference, one member of the audience called it ‘conceptual art’.
[If you want more ‘who I see in the mirror’ trade justice activism, see our page on a short film called Handprinthere]
Page reference: Lucinda Lawrence (2009) Mirror. followthethings.com/mirror.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“Jamelia: Whose Hair Is It Anyway?“ A TV documentary film fronted by Jamelia, directed by Jo Hughes, produced by Morgan Matthews for Minnow Films. Slideshow of documentary stills embedded above. BBC iPlayer page here. Watch on Box of Broadcasts (with institutional login) here.
This is the example that inspired the first version of followthethings.com – an online list of ‘follow the things’ resources. In this TV documentary, legendary Birmingham pop singer Jamelia – best known for her 2010 song ‘Superstar’ – wants to find out about a hair extension that she wore on TV to present a National Lottery draw. It’s real human hair. Straight, long and black. But whose hair was it originally? Whose hair was she wearing? She asks some young women at a local school about where their extensions come from. They don’t know. Dead people? With the help of hair traders and a forensic scientist, she travels along human hair’s supply chains to find out if that’s true. First, she travels to Russia with a Russian hair trader. They drive to a village to buy the long and untreated hair of teenage girls (like Tatiana in the photo above). Their hair is worth a lot of money. Next, getting her hair forensically analysed in a lab provides some clues about its geographical origin. So, she travels to India, to the city of Chennai, and finds a woman whose hair she is convinced it originally was. But she hadn’t sold it. It had been shaved off at a temple, and the temple had sold it on. The money they made was used to feed the poor. So this isn’t a story of exploitation along supply chains that you might expect to find. Jamelia and the woman whose hair she probably wore bond over being mothers of daughters. The documentary turns into a kind of a reunion of long lost relations. This story has a happy ending and many of the people who comment on the film are suspicious of that. What have Jamelia and the film company brushed under the carpet? Do these following films always have to end up with depressing conclusions and appeals to consumers to do something for poor and powerless producers? A lot of the commentary is also about Jamelia and whether she is boycotting real hair now (like she allegedly said, or didn’t) or is a ‘hypocrite’ (that’s a criticism to expect of every example on this site). But there’s a final twist in this tale, that comes to the surface many years later. It’s a shocking example of a film like this making an impact. An important customer-base for Indian temple-sourced hair stops buying it. Because of a BBC documentary about the hair trade. It seems to be this one. Read on.
Page reference: Ian Cook et al (2020) Jamelia: Whose Hair Is It Anyway? followthethings.com/jamelia-who-hair-is-it-anyway.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“Door Key“ Undergraduate coursework written by Alice Williams published in the Primary Geographer. Full text below.
The students’ first task in the ‘Geographies of Material Culture’ module at the University of Birmingham is to make a personal connection between their lives and the lives of others elsewhere in the world who made the things they buy. These are the people who help you to be you, followthethings.com CEO Ian tells them. So choose a commodity that matters to you, that’s an important part of your identity, that you couldn’t do without. Think about its component parts, its materials, and the properties they give to that commodity and your experience of ‘consuming it’. And write a 500 word first person account that connects your lives. Alice Williams writes about a recent experience. When she lost something and only then realised how important it was to her life. The key to her flat. Which gives her a sense of safety. Or at least she thinks so. Until she looks into its ingredients. Its metals. Like lead. Which is added to make it easier to cut. And its possible sources. Mines in South Africa and the USA. A smelter in Canada. A cutting plant in Italy… And the people who work with lead in these places. And the effects it has on their health. And their safety. They’re connected. Shouldn’t everyone feel safe?
Page reference: Alice Williams (2006) Door Key. followthethings.com/door-key.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“Life Of A Bullet“ Opening credits to the movie ‘Lord Of War’ directed by Andrew Niccol with visual effects supervisor Yann Blondel. Opening credits embedded above. Search online to watch them here. Stream the full movie here.
Imagine you could literally follow a thing, from the thing’s own point of view – like a video game – from its sites of production to its sites of consumption and maybe beyond. The opening credits of a Hollywood movie starring Nicholas Cage do just this. Set to Buffalo Springfield’s 1960s counterculture song ‘For what it’s worth (stop, hey what’s that sound)’, Lord of War begins by following the life of a bullet from a piece of sheet metal in a Ukrainian arms factory to a bullet flying out of an AK-47 assault rifle in streets of a Sierra Leone gunfight. Along the way it’s handled by lots of different people connected through its supply chain. At the end of its life, it serves its purpose by entering the forehead of a child soldier. This is when the song abruptly stops and the screen goes black. It’s catchy, bleak and brutal. But a bullet cannot be followed like this IRL. You need some research, an imagination and some heavy duty CGI expertise: like visual effects supervisor Yann Blondel’s. At followthethings.com this example has achieved a cult status. It’s like a foundation stone in the follow the thing genre. We keep coming back to it. Not only is this 3 minutes of GGI animation the best part of the movie (many commenters agree with us on that). It’s also the most brutally clear ‘follow the thing’ example we’ve found. Plus, it’s provoked the wildest discussions we have found about anything featured ion our site. Some discussion is are about the evils of the arms trade, and its undertones of colonialism and racial capitalism. But there are so many other perspectives. Some seem to have experience of shoot-em-up POV video games, others seem to have experience with real guns and ammunition, while still others seem to have an apparently deep knowledge of CGI animation, and more besides. Read the comments we’ve arranged below to see what we mean. If you’re a budding trade justice activist and you want to provoke enthusiastic discussion with your work, maybe this is the example to dig into. But, if you want that discussion to be focused on trade (in)justice, maybe it’s not. The movie, and the iconic opening scene that we’re talking about here, do get caught up in an international campaign to regulate the arms trade alongside another example we’ve researched (check here). But that doesn’t seem to have been the intention at the start.
Page reference: Ian Cook et al (2019) Life Of A Bullet. followthethings.com/life-of-a-bullet.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“Mangetout“ A documentary film directed by Mark Phillips for the BBCTV Modern ‘Times’ series. Screengrab slideshow embedded above. Documentary available on Box of Broadcasts (with institutional login) here.
In this landmark ‘follow the thing’ documentary, director Mark Phillips follows the simple magetout pea (also known as a snowpea) and connects the lives of its producers, retailers and consumers. He films a dinner party in the UK’s home counties where mangetout is a side dish. The guests talk about ‘third world’ lifestyles and exploitation. He films the farm where they are grown in Zimbabwe and introduces us to some of the farm workers and their boss. He visits a UK supermarket and asks shoppers if they buy mangetout. It wasn’t a common vegetable in 1997. And he asks them where Zimbabwe is. Not many seem to know. He films the person who sources Zimbabwe-grown mangetout for the Tesco supermarket chain. And he films this person’s visit to the farm in Zimbabwe where he’s treated like royalty. He’s visiting to monitor the processes that provide the identical size, shape and quality mangetout peas at the price he needs. That’s his job. He wants the farm boss to instruct his workers to improve the quality. The customers – who he says are his boss – will demand this. This is such a fascinating film. It jumps backwards and forwards between these different people talking about mangetout peas and the ways that big business and global capitalism works. From these different perspectives, everyone has an opinion to share. The film’s inclusion of so many perspectives is unprecedented. Everyone seems to speak quite frankly. The power that the Tesco supermarket chain, and the person who sources its mangetout, is enormous. Its visiting buyer talks to the farm manager using a language of partnership, but the farmers say they have to do what they are told. The diners talk about the exploitation of ‘third world’ farmers in casual and abstract ways, and the film cuts to the farm workers talking about the lives they can lead with the money they earn. The people at the top of the ladder are white. The people at the bottom are black. With all of these different stakeholders in it means that, as a viewer, you’re not positioned as a consumer who needs to act by changing your consumption – that’s quite a common trope. You could empathise with any and all of the film’s participants, in different ways. This film was made to educate it audience – carefully, empathetically, through the careful juxtaposition of scenes and voices from a supply chain – about how capitalism works. It’s many juxtapositions give you lots to think about. And, it had a huge impact that on the UK supermarket industry in the 1990s. This was a golden time in trade justice activism. So many campaigns were starting up, and corporations hadn’t yet learned how to respond. Tesco were embarrassed. To borrow a phrase from elsewhere, this film showed ‘capitalism with its clothes off’. They had to do something. They and their rivals didn’t want ‘another Mangetout’. It’s a shame it’s so hard to find now.
Page reference: Ian Cook et al (2025) Mangetout. followthethings.com/mange-tout.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“Chewing Gum“ Undergraduate coursework written by Lucy Mayblin, published in the Teaching Geography journal. Full text below.
The students’ first task in the ‘Geographies of Material Culture’ module at the University of Birmingham is to make a personal connection between their lives and the lives of others elsewhere in the world who made the things they buy. These are the people who help you to be you, their lecturer (now followthethings.com CEO) Ian tells them. So choose a commodity that matters to you, that’s an important part of your identity, that you couldn’t do without. Think about its component parts, its materials, and the properties they give to that commodity and your experience of ‘consuming it’. And write a 500 word first person account that connects your lives. One student – Lucy Mayblin – ends up writing about being an accidental consumer. She’s walking to class. She steps in chewing gum recently spat from someone else’s mouth. It’s stuck to her shoe. But what exactly is stuck to her shoe, and why? She buys some gum and inspects the ingredient list. She searches the internet to find out more. What she finds out is shocking. She had trodden in the ‘war on terror’?! But is it true? To add to the stickiness of her work, she prints it out, rolls it into a tube, puts it into a shoe, and hands it in with some fresh gum on the sole. It sticks to the hand-in desk.
“The Fruits Of Our Labour: An Avocado’s Story“ A dissertation by Freddie Abrahams, submitted as part of their BA Geography degree at the University of Birmingham, UK. Sample pages from Introduction, Methodology & Findings in slideshow above. Click them to read the dissertaion.
Undergraduate student Freddie Abrahams is shocked to discover that the Carmel-branded, ‘Produce of Israel’ avocados he eats may be grown on illegally seized Palestinian land. There’s a campaign in the UK to boycott these fruits. So he contacts Agrexco, the Israeli company that supplies them, and asks if it’s possible to find out for himself. He travels to Israel and ends up on kibbutz farms. They’re not on Palestinian land. And they’re not farmed by Palestinian people. The people he meets are migrant workers from Ethiopia, Thailand and other countries. He’s baffled. The boycott protestors are so angry. They say that all Israeli avocados should be boycotted. But the Agrexco managers he’s met have helped him so much with his research. They have been so open. He hasn’t seen any avocados being grown on Palestinian land. But Agrexco wouldn’t help him to see that, would they? His research does throw some doubt on facts of the boycott. So what’s his dissertation about? Following acovados? And/or the politics of knowledge in following avocados. What research are thing-followers allowed to do? What access can they gain to what spaces? Who gives permission? Who shapes what they learn to see? Freddie’s research was unusually easy to do.
Dissertation reference: Freddie Abrahams (2007) The Fruits Of Our Labour: An Avocado’s Story. BA Geography Dissertation: University of Birmingham, UK (followthethings.com/the-fruits-of-our-labour-an-avocados-story.shtml last accessed <insert date here>)
Page reference: Freddie Abrahams (2011) The Fruits Of Our Labour: An Avocado’s Story. followthethings.com/the-fruits-of-our-labour-an-avocados-story.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“Cicih Sukaesih’s North America Nike tour“ A speaker tour of North America by sacked Indonesia Nike factory worker Cicih Sukaesih, sponsored by Global Exchange, Working Group on Nike, Press 4 Change, Campaign for Labor Rights, Canadian Auto Workers, Operation PUSH, Jobs for Justice, Amnesty International, Frontlash (a branch of the AFL-CIO) and the Alberta Federation of Labour. Newspaper report reproduced above. Search for a 2017 BBC interview with Cicih Sukaesih about this tour here.
Indonesian Nike factory worker Cicih Sukaesih is sacked for organising a successful strike action for minimum wages and better conditions. So North American anti-sweatshop organisations recruit her to front a multi-city tour with stops in New York City. Chicago, San Francisco, Vancouver, Toronto … She wants Nike CEO Phil Knight and basketball star Michael Jordan to explain the price of the shoes she has made, their astronomical pay and her colleagues’ extraordinarily bad pay and conditions. She visits Nike’s HQ, leads protests at its Nike Town stores, describes the working conditions she has experienced, urges supporters to write to Jordan to persuade him to use his celebrity power to help factory workers and urges Nike to reinstate her and her sacked colleagues. She sometimes tries on a pair of Nike shoes in store. Wearing them makes her feel distinguished. But their price tag would eat up two or three months of her salary. Where does all that money go? Her removal from a store by Nike security staff after trying on the Nike shoes she makes is quite a spectacle. A perfect scene for media coverage that can make Nike’s sweatshop problem a public concern. We love this example of trade justice activism. Conventionally it’s a Western consumer who travels to the Global South to meet their makers. Sukaesih goes in the opposite direction. She’s looking to connect with others in the worlds of retail and consumption who care about trade justice, to act together in solidarity. She’s doing this by working with campaigning NGOs and public relations, media-savvy activists, working together on a new kind of trade justice activism. But what should the protestors who join them do? Put pressure on the company by boycotting it? Sukaesih say no. Don’t do that! That’s going to harm her friends and former colleagues back home. Let them keep their jobs, but with much better pay and conditions, paid for by Nike. The company can afford it. There’s lots of Nike sweatshop activism taking place at this time. And the company does act. Or gives the impression that it’s acting. You decide.
Page reference:Alex Fanshawe, Lorian Douglas Dufresne, Frances Nicholson, Josh Perkins, Oscar Cator & Charlie Beere (2024) Cicih Sukaesih’s North America Nike tour. followthethings.com/cicih-sukaesihs-north-america-nike-tour.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“Gold Farmers“ A documentary film written & directed by Ge Jin Trailer embedded above. Search here for the whole film (sometimes uploaded in parts) online.
Travelling between China and USA, filmmaker Ge Jin talks to men who play Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Games (MMORPGs) like ‘World of Warcraft’ and ‘Lineage’. Its players in the USA sometimes exchange real dollars for the game’s online currency in order to pay for extra game features like swords or amulets. They could earn online currency themselves in-game but, instead, talk about buying it. But that currency is produced and sold by Chinese men who play the same games all day in ‘gold farms’ to make a meagre living. Their places of work are described as ‘virtual sweatshops’ where they earn and sell virtual money through the labour of online game-play. But – unlike most – these producers and consumers meet and interact (albeit online, in the games that they play). They inhabit in the same online worlds, but as consumers and workers, buyers and sellers. This documentary film is an early example of ‘follow the thing’ activism focused on a digital commodity. So what do these players imagine and know about one another? How is one’s enjoyable leisure time activity affecting another’s full time work?
Page reference: Jack Parkin (2012) Gold Farmers (taster). followthethings.com/gold-farmers.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
“A Week In A Toxic Waste Dump“ A documentary film presented by Reggie Yates, produced by Harriet Morter for BBC TV. Available in full above (with ads). Available on the BBC’s iPlayer platform without ads (with login) here. Search online for streaming options here.
Agbogbloshie is a notorious e-waste dump on the outskirts of Accra, the capital city of Ghana. It’s where Western electronics ‘go to die’. It’s where migrant workers from the North of Ghana move to take up low paid and dangerous work recycling this waste. They recover valuable scrap metals like copper from discarded electrical devices, most famously by burning the plastic or rubber coatings from their wires. The smoke is acrid, poisonous. Processing this waste here has polluted the soil, the water table, the air, and the health of the people who work and live here. It’s a textbook case of the evils of Western consumption. In terms of toxic landscapes, some say, Agbogbloshie is in the same league as Chernobyl. In 2017, Reggie Yates (a British Radio and TV celebrity with Ghanaian heritage) spends a week here. It’s for an episode of a documentary TV series in which he tries to understand the lives lived by people less fortunate than himself by living with them for a week, doing the work that they do, sleeping where they sleep, eating what they eat, and being followed around by a film crew to capture every moment. In Agbogbloshie, he gets to know a group of ‘burner boys’ who are in their 20s called Razak, Awal, Yahro Muhammed and their chief. They show him what they do, burning the plastic off wires, dousing the bright orange flames in puddles of water in the mud, bagging up the bare copper, and selling it on for pennies. As Reggie gets to know these young men, he starts to care about them, becomes concerned about how they can support their families, and their children, on such low wages earned from work that will shorten their lives. They have serious health problems already. He wants viewers in the UK to feel culpable. Most don’t have a clue where their discarded electrical devices go to die. And the damage that this waste can do to people less fortunate than them in poorer countries. Like these ‘burner boys’ in Ghana. Lots of Western journalists and photographers have visited Agbogbloshie to tell this same story. Many seem to have met Razal, Awal, Yahro and Muhammed. They’ve acted as fixers, helping these visitors to tell the story they have heard about by providing testimony and burning plastic and rubber in photogenic ways. People who are in touch with the ‘burner boys’ say that they appreciated Reggie’s efforts to muck in, they thought he was cool. But waste academics in Ghana and overseas, as well as local commentators, have a problem with this story that Reggie and everyone else visits to tell. It’s one of those narratives of exploitation that has a questionable origin, quickly becomes iconic, and attracts visitors to tell ready-made versions of it over and over again. It’s a trope. Bad things happen in the Global South. Impoverished workers are suffering. Unthinking consumers in the global North are responsible for this. The media tells the story using authentic found characters with whom a celebrity presenter is able to spend time and to empathise. The audience is invited to empathise with the presenter empathising with the found characters. This encourages powerful emotional and practical responses, debates about the causes of the problem – like capitalism – potential solutions – like an industrial waste plant – and problems with the potential solutions – the ‘burner boys’ would suffer. But what if researchers and on-the-ground commenters reported that Agbogbloshie is quite a small dump, and that the e-waste processed there was mainly from Ghana? There’s next to nothing about the international waste supply chain in this film. What if the dump had been demolished in 2021, partly because of the toxic reputation that these repeated media exposés had given the place? And what if most of the online debate about this documentary had taken place two or three years after the dump had closed? Reggie’s documentary was published on YouTube in 2023 and 2024: giving it a worldwide audience that it had never originally had but also generating a huge fuss about a place that no longer existed. Everyone seem to agree that Reggie is cool, a genuinely empathetic person, but why didn’t the team behind his film seem to have done their homework? A very different story could – and maybe should – have been told.
Page reference: Lucian Harford (2025) Ghana: a Week In A Toxic Waste Dump. followthethings.com/ghana-a-week-in-a-toxic-waste-dump.shtml (last accessed <insert date here>)
