Cannon meat for large slaughterhouses

Working conditions in many German slaughterhouses are disastrous, housing is overcrowded and cramped, and workers from the East must also suffer the usual racism of their landlords. The wave of contagion from Covid-19 finally brings to light a system of industrial exploitation that desperately needs cannon fodder from all over Europe to move forward. A very interesting article from the Süddeutsche Zeitung explains to us how the Tonnies system works

A few minutes later the first Whatsapp message arrives from a man we call Marius Popescu*. The SZ asked on a Facebook group of Romanians from North Rhine-Westphalia if anyone wanted to talk about working conditions in the slaughtering industry. Since 2015, Popescu has always worked for Tönnies, until about three weeks ago he was placed in quarantine. The large meat processing factory has now ended up in the centre of attention, after more than 1,000 workers tested positive at Covid-19.

Popescu speaks calmly and quietly. It's not that everything in the meat industry sucks so much, he says. But much of what he tells us also explains why there is hardly anyone willing to work in slaughterhouses anymore.

Popescu started by packing meat for Tonnies, then moved on to cutting. He tells us about 200 hours of work per month and housing where before the pandemic three to seven people shared a room. But he doesn't seem particularly shocked about it. "Sure, the work is hard." Popescu was in the army, but he doesn't remember it being that hard. He worked maybe a tenth as hard as he does now at Tönnies. At first he didn't think he could do it - industrial slaughter seemed too brutal to him. He sees his work at Tönnies as a possible springboard for something better. Thanks to this work he would like to find something else to do in Germany, possibly in another sector.

Popescu seems to be really amazed at just one subject. About six weeks ago, in fact, he and his wife had already been tested for the Coronavius. Afterwards they even went back to work. But only two weeks later he was told of the results: Popescu's wife was positive. He could not understand why it took so long for the analysis. Nor can he understand why there were no further tests or any information after that. The next day he, his wife and the entire shift were sent into quarantine. Since then, no one has contacted him. Other workers also reported to the SZ that there had been individual cases of coronavirus in Tönnies for some time.

"Those who complained were thrown out."

After Marius Popescu, other workers wanted to talk to the SZ, most of them upset. Andrei Amariei* writes that he would like to warn people against the typical exploitation of slaughterhouses like Tönnies. Amariei meanwhile has left the sector. From 2015 to 2019 he packed meat in Germany, mostly from Tönnies to Rheda-Wiedenbrück. Now he lives in Romania again and is happy, he tells this in a phone call on Facetime. The list of his accusations against Tönnies is long. At first they made him work for seven weeks without a day off - and always at night, because he urgently needed money. But the other workers often got one day off every three weeks as well. Even his employer, as in the case of Marius Popescu, an intermediary subcontractor, was cheating on wages. When Amariei left the company housing, the subcontractor still deducted his rent. If they spent time cleaning the workplace, it wasn't considered working time. Amariei also reported "errors" in his pay slip, always in favour of the employer. Regularly hours were missing, even though the actual working hours were recorded with fingerprint scans at the time of entry. "Those who complained were no longer considered necessary," says Amariei. He answered the questions with an embarrassed smile, as if he himself was surprised to be trapped in such a system. He calls Tönnies a "state within a state". Even Chancellor Merkel wouldn't be able to get in, if there wasn't someone to get her through. In fact, he is not allowed to report anything about working conditions at Tönnies, it is written in the employment contract with his subcontractor.

Until the publication of this article, Tönnies did not respond to the SZ's requests.

The descriptions of Popescu and Amariei coincide with other information, such as that of Szabolcs Sepsi. Since 2013, he has been responsible for the "Faire Mobilität" project in Dortmund in which he helps workers to defend their rights.

Sepsi explains how the meat sector, some 30 years ago, was industrialised and liberalised. "There is a tough price war being waged by competing subcontractors." The meat industry has taken the system of works contracts to extremes. Many workers could be transferred at any time. According to his estimates, of Toennies' 7,000 employees currently in quarantine, about 3,500 work for external companies, about 2,000 are Romanian. Without this confusing system of subcontractors, Tönnies could have more easily identified the workers' housing, Sepsi says.

No doubt the situation in housing has improved in recent years. In the past he happened to find mold, cockroaches and open electric cables. Like Popescu, Sepsi says that the slaughterhouse should only be a springboard for finding better jobs in Germany. But he also says: "The living conditions in the housing remain difficult.  As many meat processing plants work 24 hours a day, the queue often forms in front of the toilets and you can no longer stay in peace and quiet. And this could also fuel conflicts with the neighborhood: "When the van picks up the workers at night and honks the horn, I think it's very annoying. Sepsi confirms that wage fraud is systematic in this area. Most workers officially earn the minimum wage, but they have to work more than agreed. Over the years, some develop chronic pain and are sometimes "taken out" by subcontractors.

People currently in quarantine are particularly outraged by the claim that they were going away for a long weekend and so they would take the virus with them when they returned. In fact, many people were working in the plants: "There was no long weekend for the meat industry," Sepsi says. "The claim is simply false and only fuels racism."

Tönnies' employees would have been refused entry to the medical clinics.

There is already an increase in marginalisation: he has been told that medical clinics no longer allow employees in Tönnies. It is said that supermarkets have let people out who they thought were Romanians. "It happened to Cosfeld too," Sepsi says.

For Andrei Amariei it's no big surprise. He says: 'Romanians have always been at the bottom of the social ladder, even Poles and Turks look down on us. He tells of a Romanian acquaintance who, as a supermarket clerk, was forbidden to speak Romanian to Romanian customers. On the one hand, he remembers the nice neighbours - and on the other hand, he remembers all those who never missed an opportunity to complain about the Romanians. "Even though a car was parked a little crooked." Amariei is also very annoyed by the statements of NRW President Armin Laschet. Last Wednesday, in fact, they asked Laschet what the Toennies contagion boom meant in terms of loosening the bans. Laschet replied: "He tells us nothing about it, because the Romanians and Bulgarians have returned to Germany and the virus is coming from their countries. Later, Laschet also cited housing as a possible cause of spread, but after the very heavy criticism he received, he had to make it clear: "It is not possible to blame the virus on people of whatever origin they are".

Amariei instead argues that Toennies, like Laschet, was just trying to shift the blame onto someone who can be replaced more easily: "You will always find someone who is willing to work hard in the end, even for little money. The people who put the money in their pockets are now simply blaming them. There is no decency in all this".

* The names of the employees have been changed.