More Machine than Human

What, then, constitutes the alienation of labor? First, the fact that labor is external to the worker...that in his work he does not affirm himself but denies himself, does not feel content but unhappy, does not develop freely his physical and mental energy but mortifies his body and ruins his mind. The worker therefore only feels himself outside his work, and in his work feels outside himself. He is at home when he is not working, and when he is working he is not at home. His labor is therefore not voluntary, but coerced; it is forced labor. It is therefore not the satisfaction of a need; it is merely a means to satisfy needs external to it. Its alien character emerges clearly in the fact that as soon as no physical or other compulsion exists, labor is shunned like the plague.

- Karl Marx, The Economic & Philosophic Manuscripts of 1844


Some there are who live in darkness / While others live in light / We ser those who live in daylight / Those in darkness, out of sight. 

- Bertold Brecht

A boy, no older than fifteen, sits cross-legged on the cold stone floor of a textile mill in Gujarat, the westernmost state of India. This is his place of work, his home. Behind him are giant rolls of white cloth. “You work on and on and on until the twelve hours are over.” He momentarily breaks eye contact with the camera, glancing into the distance. “When I arrive at the gate for work, I feel like turning back right there.” He smiles, and touches his chest. “When I arrive at the gate like that, my gut tells me that I should just turn back.” He fidgets. “But it’s not good to turn back.”

This unnamed boy and his fellow workers - some younger, some much older - are the protagonists in Machines, the debut documentary for director Rahul Jain. The film is a rare glimpse into what humans do the most: work.

But this is not free and creative labor, the type unique to human beings and for which we all strive. These textile workers are wage slaves, alienated from their labor, tasked with simultaneously dangerous and excruciatingly boring jobs. At work, they are more machine than human.

In the Gujarat textile mills, workers labor twelve-hour-plus shifts in dangerous conditions for 3 USD. From this meager salary, explains one worker, “I have to eat, save and raise my family. When I think about having to raise my kids with this money, I try saving 1,000, 1,500, 2,000 Rs. [But] the mill doesn't run every day of the month. Tell me, who has the strength to work nonstep for 36 or 48 hours?” Many go into debt simply to obtain money need for travel to work: for some, a 36 hour train ride with no food, water, or room to sit. It’s too expensive to travel home during the week, so many choose to bathe with the same water that cleans the machines, and sleep (a rare indulgence) on piles of textile.

During brief moments of respite, workers slump against the wall, smoking cigarettes or staring into the distance. Some hurriedly gulp down meals. This, in a country where 48 percent of total wealth is held by millionaires, or high net-worth individuals (HNWIs).

The mill itself is a cavernous maze of grey walls, shadows, and machines. The camera moves as the workers move, pausing every so often to capture them in action. The film’s only soundtrack is the constant noise of the machines, those hulking beasts that one worker explains “have to be controlled, either by using a button or the brain.” Does the machine serve the laborer, or the laborer the machine?

The textiles, the products of labor, stand in sharp relief against harsh grey environment, making for a profoundly beautiful (it won the Sundance Jury Award for Excellence in Cinematography) and brutal collage.

Elsewhere, a group of well-dressed men eye fabric samples piled on a table: “I like this one, how much?” No trace of the pain, sweat, and exploitation is visible in the beautiful cloth. The labor responsible for the product is hidden, the misery unknown. Instead, we see only the enchanting power of the cloth; the designs and patterns, the alluring colors. “This brand is very expensive,” exclaims one man. “This material is good for the summer,” declares another.

Last month, one million Indian bank workers went on strike. On September 2, 2016, an astounding 180 million workers participated in what was considered one of the largest strike in human history. But the textile industry has been relatively quiet since a failed strike in 1982. “Today the laborer can become a tiger,” explains one worker, glancing over his shoulder: “ But due to a lack of unity, the laborer is a sheep.”

Many obstacles exist to a working class movement, and the film is perhaps most remarkable in its ability capture the seemingly contradictory attitudes of workers. “God gave us hands, so we have to work. Since we are here we have to work...there is no cure”, explains one. “Sir, let me tell you that nobody is exploiting me. I have taken loans to come here to work. For my own needs, to raise my kids. Exploitation would mean that I am forced to work here. I have traveled here of my own free will. Nobody is pressuring me”, says another. This, from the same man who just before described the difficulty of feeding his family on 210 Rs a day.  

Machines is more than a call for better labor conditions. It’s a powerful chronicle of the labor process under capitalism, in which the market compels us to labor under threat of death, and the worker is alienated from his or her life activity. It is also a reminder of the power workers hold, if only they were to rise like lions (or tigers) after slumber.

As the film draws to a close, a group of workers adorn themselves in the beautiful textiles they have created. They wrap their faces, caress the fabric, and throw it into the air like graduates tossing caps. Smiles abound. Here, for the first time, the workers enjoy the products of their labor.