The Well hosiery
factory in Le Vigan, in the south of France (Gard Department), was a
local institution. In its heyday it employed a quarter of the 4,500
inhabitants of this small town nestled at the foot of Mount Aigoual,
in the heart of the Cevennes mountains. However, the industrial adventure
appears to be drawing to a close. After several waves of lay-offs in
the past decade, the management has decided to shift production of all
its “low-end” items to China in order to cope with competition.
Hundreds of workers will lose their jobs starting this summer, with
very little hope of finding new ones, for unemployment in the region
is close to 20%. Report.
“Here, look,”
Stéphane Charlin opens the boot of his car, “this is for
you!” He takes a large calendar for 2007 out of a carton and flips
through its glossy pages until he reaches a picture of himself, shop
steward for the Catholic trade union CFTC, posing bare-chested, his
muscled rugby player’s legs elegantly sheathed in a pair of Well
stockings. “Calendrier de l’Avant... Délocalisation”1:
That’s the title we’ve chosen. All of the factory’s
shop stewards got into the act; one of Asian descent, as well, as a
sort of wink at fate. We sold 5,000 copies at 5 euros a piece. That
enabled us to finance our major demonstration before the National Assembly
in Paris in January. Every bit helps…”. He stops short to
check his watch. “Maybe we’d better get going. It’s
a long drive to Le Vigan.” The trade unionist tapped his son on
the shoulder. He’d been accompanying the boy all afternoon at
a competition in the suburbs of Nimes (the department’s major
town). When the end-of-match whistle sounded, the man witnessed, overjoyed,
his eldest son’s victory in a handball match against the local
championship’s leader. “If that was a good omen for the
future, that would be brilliant. My children are constantly telling
me that they don’t want to leave Le Vigan. I don’t, either!
The factory is my whole life. I’ll soon have been working there
twenty years.” The car doors slam, the engine coughs, and we’re
off again. An hour later we see, at the bottom of a steep valley in
the Cevennes mountains, this town of 4,500 with, at its entrance, the
Well factory. This factory, despite its new buildings, is almost as
much a part of the local heritage as the 900 year old Romanesque bridge
that spans the Arre River – the watercourse without which the
industry could never have prospered.
Setting sail for China
The next day, as we watch the 300 ultramodern machines that knit automatically
35 million pairs of brown, black, and white tights each year, it is
hard to imagine that all this is going to come to a halt. Last autumn,
however, the management decided that they would have their low-end items
made in China and keep, at best, only a small “high-end”
production unit in France. Why? The market has collapsed – people
murmur that women increasingly prefer trousers to dresses – and
Well’s competitors, led by DiM, are accused of steamrolling prices.
The sole shareholder, Natixis, sees no other solution than to set sail
for the Middle Kingdom. “They tell us that it costs them 40% less
to produce over there, but transport costs are likely to rise,”
Stéphane Charlin warns. “The Chinese will achieve the same
quality, we mustn’t fool ourselves about that,” Pierre Debaut,
of the CFDT trade union, says resignedly, “But given the distance,
Well will have to have larger stocks to be certain to be able to meet
the demand, and warehousing costs dear.” “It is true that
the French market is ailing,” Stéphane Charlin continues,
“but we could have come up with other solutions, too, developed
other products, innovated.” For example, some people suggest,
investing in medical stockings. “However,” another shop
steward adds, “we are dealing with shareholders who are thinking
in purely financial terms. They are closed to all suggestions.”
No one seemed to be able to counter this development, neither the population,
whose mobilisation was uneven, nor even the unions, who at the end of
the day were extremely divided. After several months of struggle, marked
by five days of strikes, some of them, including Stéphane Charlin’s
CFTC, to which the majority of workers belong, finally threw in the
towel, worn out by the standoff. Feeling that demanding the best would
jeopardise what good might be saved, they signed a definitive agreement
with Management in early February that consisted of a promise to keep
minimal activity on the site, which would save some thirty jobs, but
also a commitment on the part of the company to pay the equivalent of
two years’ wages to the 270 workers who will be dismissed gradually
starting in June.
There will be no miracles. The majority of the workers overseeing the
production lines and packaging were paid 1,300 euros a month. They will
now have to prepare to live on unemployment benefits for a long time.
The local employment agency’s lists already show an 18% jobseeker
rate in this small town, which had based a large proportion of its economic
activity on textiles. “Honestly, what else do you want us to do
here? Selling Cevennes onions is not going to earn us a living,”
one female worker lamented. “I’ve always worked at the Well
factory. We’ve realised that it will soon be gone, and that hurts.
How am I going to pay back my loans? I don’t understand why the
French government is doing nothing to counter that. It’s shameful,
when you consider that the management has just hired forty temporary
workers at the factory because we’re having problems keeping up
with orders! There’s work for us, but the shareholders want ever
more money.”
Several waves of lay-offs already occurred over the past ten years and,
according ot the trade unions, only a minority of those workers have
managed to find new jobs here and there, for example, as lifecare auxiliaries
(Le Vigan has two homes for old age pensioners) or by founding a business.
Myriam belongs to the second category. She opened an attractive restaurant
in the heart of the town, where she offers a mixture of exotic flavours
and local cuisine, with the help of her companion, Sirima, who comes
from Burkina Faso. There hasn’t been a slow day since a local
television crew gave the restaurant some coverage. “We even had
the honour of a visit from the widow of the former president of Burkina
Faso, Myriam Sankara,” Myriam says with a smile! “This job
has changed my life. The factory work was not at all fulfilling. Still,
our business is fragile. We work six days a week. Government taxes are
high: Barely 1,300 euros a month, net, remains for the two of us to
live on. If Well shuts down completely, I’m very worried, because
the company’s employees currently make up a third of my clientele.
But we’re not the only ones: There is also the municipal daycare
centre. If people have no more money, they will no longer put their
kids there.”
Well: 80 years of history
Well has for the past six years belonged to Natixis Industrie, which
is a subsidiary of the Natixis investment fund, which is in turn
controlled by the French people’s and savings bank Banque
populaire et des Caisses d’épargne. It is the second
leading manufacturer of women’s undergarments in France, with
tights, stockings, and knee socks accounting for some three-quarters
of production. The group has some 438 workers at Le Vigan, including
about 300 “hosiers” at the factory (the rest are distributed
between on-ground logistics and design staff). The first factory
opened in 1972 under the name “Bas de France”. It was
taken over by the Lyons group Bugnon, which launched the Well brand,
in 1970. Its purchase by the English group Harstone in 1992 made
it possible to modernise the installations and diversify production.
In 2005 the Le Vigan site had a turnover of more than 49 millions
euros in stockings and tights. According to the CFTC, it has posted
net losses for several years. |
The risks of a domino effect
A young couple in their twenties – he is on unemployoment, she
is temping at Well – sitting at a table in the restaurant that
evening acquiesce. Both of them will regretfully have to leave “their”
town to open a seaside restaurant on the Mediterranean. “We are
very attached to Le Vigan. It is a magnificent place. But we can’t
even imagine investing in a rural inn, for dozens of Brits, Germans,
and Dutch people are moving into the area for their retirement. They
are pushing prices through the roof. An old house that needs redoing
goes easily for 200,000 euros nowadays - way beyond our range!”
Residents are having a hard time keeping up. Many of them complain
about this inflation, right down to the supermarket aisles. A soup kitchen
run by Les Restos du Coeur was set up in one of the narrow streets in
the town’s centre in 2005 – a clear sign that the economy
is going downhill. Jean-Marie, who is retired after a career at Well,
and Anne-Parie, who is on unemployment, are preparing the commodities
collected for the winter. “The situation has worsened compared
with last year. Last week we served more than 1800 free meals to 155
families. They included many former Well employes who have not found
work and are not getting by.” What to do? Le Vigan’s Socialist
mayor, Thierry Bourrié, feels “powerless” to deal
with the relocations. He also sees the risks of a domino effect: In
his town, two workfare centres that employ people with disabilities
do packaging for Well. Even worse, 60% of the municipality’s tax
revenue comes from the textile company. “The day they leave, I
wonder how I am going to pay my staff. We are working on setting up
a wind farm here, which would offset the loss of tax revenue in three
years’ time.” But what about jobs? Where will they come
from? And when? There are few answers. “We didn’t think
about diversifying when the textiles industry was flourishing. I own
up to that mistake. I think, however, that there is a future here for
tourism and health care. Projects will emerge. We are saved by the fact
that we have a subprefecture, high school, hospital, post office, and
several administrative headquarters in our town.”
Pulling through
Well’s sole shareholder has undertaken to pay 1.5 million euros
to redynamise the employment catchment area. The State will do the same.
This does not include aid from the departmental and regional administrations.
“That will make it possible – why not? – to support
personal projects,” Thierry Bourrié hopes. However, the
majority of the factory workers are over 40 years old and have never
worked anywhere else (and this is characteristic of the problem in France,
where life-long training is still in its infancy). “Going back
to school at our age would be very hard,” one employee declares.
“It will take ten years before things take off again here, and
there will be a lot of social suffering along the way,” is CDFT
representative Pierre Defaut’s prognosis. The director of Le Vigan’s
Cevennes Museum, Laurent Puech, recognises that what is going on is
“obviously tragic”. Yet, with the hindsight of a historian
he is certain that the valley will find a way to pull through. “We
are living in a period of crisis and transition. Because of this crisis,
people here and there talk about the so-called handicaps of our geographical
situation. For example, we constantly hear that the town is too cut
off from the rest of the world. But when you look at history, you see
that this was never an obstacle to its development. And our region is
a great deal more open than people think: We have found accounts showing
that in the very early 19th century families went as far as the Bosphorus
to buy healthy mulberry seeds in order to revive the silkworm industry,
which was plagued by disease at the time. We shall definitely rebound!”
Remark: Well’s management did not answer the author’s
request for an interview.