Mega Giant Corporations Are Very Bad for America


By Barry C. Lynn
AlterNet
January 2, 2010


Wal-Mart delivers at least 30% and sometimes more than 50% of the entire U.S. consumption of products. Why the monopolization of our economy should scare you.


The following is an excerpt from the first chapter of Cornered: The New Monopoly Capitalism and the Economics of Destruction, published by Wiley Press.

Even with a GPS and a good map, I have a hard time finding Diane Cochrane’s home, which is tucked in the crease of a hill a few miles east of Prescott, Arizona. The one-story green frame building sits at the bottom of a steep driveway that drops from a rocky road that cuts off a maze of streets that, as I drive along in my rented Pontiac, seem more like a mad Motocross track than the arteries of a neighborhood.

Yet it is easy to understand why Diane settled here with her husband after they fled the monotony of a Ford assembly line in Ohio. The landscape is a testament to the creativity of both humanity and God. Every one of the hundred or so houses in the community is unique. There are ramblers, chalets, A-frames, ranches, and log cabins. The terrain, meanwhile, seems to change in character almost inch by inch as the roadway drops and twists vertiginously into deep and scrubby ravines, only to crest a moment later to stunning views of a far shimmering horizon.

A few miles down Highway 69, the Wal-Mart Supercenter at the edge of Prescott is a different world. The parking lot alone is the grandest swath of flat space I’ve seen in the last hour of driving. Then there’s the store itself. To fit the big box into the undulating land, the builders had to cut deep into the side of a hill, carving away as much as six or seven stories worth of dirt and rock.

Once I am inside Wal-Mart’s door, it takes me nearly two minutes, striding swiftly, to walk from one end of the store to the other. Along the way I pass twenty-seven checkout lines and what seems like a whole town -- a savings bank, a McDonald’s, a portrait gallery -- tucked under this one roof. I almost wish I’d brought along some music to entertain myself, because there isn’t much new to look at on my stroll. Other than having a rack of cowboy hats, this Supercenter is filled with the exact same collection of products as every other Wal-Mart Supercenter in the United States, be it in Ohio, California, or Virginia. It also has the same empty feeling. When I arrive, it’s early evening and the parking lot is full. Yet the store seems almost vacant, and the few shoppers I do see wander listlessly and almost silently through the aisles.

Diane, who is sixty and has cut her gray hair short, wears a salmon-colored cotton shirt on this ninety-seven-degree April day. She tells me that until recently, she shopped in this Wal-Mart almost every day, often on her way home from her job managing a party store. She doesn’t anymore, though, and that’s not because filling a basket at the Supercenter can be more exhausting than a trip to the gym. Diane has tried to avoid all Wal-Marts everywhere ever since her two kittens, Bones and Moses, died of kidney failure on the same day in 2007. Diane believes that the food she purchased here -- Wal-Mart private label Special Kitty Gourmet Blend foil pouches filled with whitefish and tuna in sauce -- is what killed them.

My intent is not to blame any one person at Wal-Mart for the deaths of Diane’s kittens, nor to blame the rather abstract entity that is Wal-Mart taken as a whole. It is to reinforce the idea that monopoly exists just about everywhere in America today. It is also to add two new facts. First, today’s monopolies increasingly appear in the shape of giant trading firms like Wal-Mart, which are designed to govern entire production systems, even entire swaths, of our economy. Second, monopoly does not eliminate competition, nor does it automatically result in a rational and efficient governance of the production and service systems under its sway.

On the contrary, monopolization merely shifts competition from a horizontal plane to a vertical plane. That is, rather than having a winner-take-all battle among automobile makers or between Wal-Mart and Target, for example, we have competition between the monopoly and all the people under its power. In the case of Wal-Mart, this includes its workers and its suppliers as well as its customers. The real competition, in other words, is between the billionaires who make and wield monopolies like Wal-Mart and people like you, me, and Diane.

I could have started this with dozens of stories about the deaths of dogs and cats just before and after the great pet food recall of 2007. I chose Diane’s story not because we have absolute proof that Wal-Mart cat food killed Bones and Moses -- the kittens were cremated days before the first recall was announced. Rather, it was because the circumstantial evidence is so strong. Bones and Moses were healthy kittens. There were two of them, and they died at the same time. During their whole lives Diane fed them only Special Kitty pouches. Diane’s veterinarian told Diane that the kittens’ blood-urea- nitrogen measurement was the highest she had ever seen. Diane also owned other animals at the time, including a seven-year-old cat named Little Bit and a seven-year-old collie named Sailor, both of whom ate food that was not included in the recall; both of them, she tells me, remain quite healthy.

I chose to focus on the pet food fiasco in general because it was one of those stories that comes along every so often that rips away the veil to reveal how the mechanisms of our economy really work. That’s what happened in March 2007, when an Ontario-based company named Menu Foods announced a recall of cans and pouches of wet pet food that had been packed at plants in Kansas and New Jersey. At first, the story seemed simple enough: another case in which poor food-handling techniques resulted in contamination that resulted in sickness and, in a few cases, death, just as we have seen in such other products as spinach and peanut butter.

That’s why the initial reports on the recall focused on empty store shelves and terrified pet owners. Within a week, however, the Menu Foods story began to morph into something entirely different: a horror tale about the dangers of food, drugs, toys, and tires made in China. The turning point came on March 23, when three things happened.

First, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) announced that it suspected that some toxin had been mixed into the wheat gluten that was used to thicken the canned meats. Second, an independent lab reported that it had found rat poison in the recalled cans. Third, Menu Foods pointed a finger at a shipment of wheat gluten that had been purchased from a supplier in China. Although rat poison was later replaced as the main culprit by a chemical named melamine, the story line had now taken shape: cheap and adulterated Chinese products were poisoning Americans, their children, and their pets.

Throughout the coming months, journalists and officials would drag vast piles of horrifying facts into the light. Some Chinese toothpaste makers had used diethylene glycol, a component of brake fluid and antifreeze, as a sweetener. Some Chinese toy makers had coated their products with lead-based paints. Some Chinese farmers had fed unapproved drugs to catfish that were bound for U.S. dinner plates. Some Chinese slaughterhouses had mixed “oversulfated chondroitin sulfateâ€