Welcome to the global supply chain, a sprawling, necrotic web of exploitation where the only thing cheaper than a seasonal clearance rack is the life of a Dalit woman in Tamil Nadu. We are currently witnessing the aftermath of the Jeyasre Kathiravel case, a story so predictably grim that it serves as the perfect indictment of our collective, performative morality. In January 2021, Jeyasre, a 21-year-old garment worker at Natchi Apparels, was raped and murdered by her supervisor. It took the literal annihilation of a human being to convince the masters of the universe—specifically those branding geniuses at the H&M Group—that perhaps, just perhaps, their ‘supplier standards’ were about as effective as a paper umbrella in a monsoon.

Let us dissect the grotesque 'success' story that followed. In the wake of Jeyasre’s death, activists managed to secure the Dindigul Agreement. This is being hailed as a 'landmark' victory for labor rights. Think about that for a cynical moment. We have reached a point in human 'progress' where codifying a workplace environment that doesn’t result in the predatory slaughter of its staff is considered a revolutionary breakthrough. The agreement allows for independent monitoring and a grievance mechanism that actually functions. Groundbreaking, truly. We’ve managed to drag the 21st-century garment industry all the way up to the ethical standards of a moderately enlightened feudal manor. The Left will parade this as a triumph of grassroots organizing, ignoring the fact that the price of entry for this 'better deal' was the decomposing body of a young woman found in a wasteland. If this is what 'winning' looks like, I would hate to see a setback.

But the true brilliance of the capitalist machine isn’t just in its initial brutality; it’s in its subsequent abandonment. The real irony of the Natchi Apparels saga is that while the factory transformed into a supposed beacon of safety and dignity, its order book took a dive into the abyss. H&M and other brands, ever sensitive to the optics of being associated with a 'murder factory,' did what corporations do best: they practiced the art of the tactical retreat. They love to talk about 'sustainability' and 'empowerment' in their glossy annual reports, usually featuring a carefully lit photograph of a smiling woman in a colorful sari, but the moment a factory requires actual oversight—or, God forbid, costs a fraction more to operate because you can’t treat the staff like disposable livestock—the 'ethical' brands develop a sudden interest in sourcing from somewhere else.

The Right will tell you that this is just the 'invisible hand' of the market at work, a natural consequence of brand management. The 'invisible hand' is, in reality, more of a blood-stained fist. These companies didn't flee because the factory was bad; they fled because the factory became a PR liability that reminded people where their $10 leggings actually come from. The consumers are no better. We demand 'ethically sourced' goods but balk at the price of a latte if it increases by twenty cents to ensure a worker in India isn't being terrorized. We want the guilt-free dopamine hit of a new outfit without the inconvenience of acknowledging that the entire industry is built on a foundation of systemic casteism and gender-based violence.

What happened at Natchi Apparels is a microcosm of the human condition: a cycle of atrocity, followed by a brief, hysterical burst of 'reform,' followed by a quiet return to the status quo through economic strangulation. The factory is now 'safe,' but it is also increasingly empty. The workers who fought for dignity now have the privilege of being dignified and unemployed. This is the 'better deal' we’ve brokered. We’ve traded a violent death for a slow economic one, and we have the audacity to call it 'Justice for Jeyasre.'

In the end, everyone gets what they want. The activists get a case study for their next conference, the corporations get to scrub their websites of 'problematic' suppliers, and the Western consumer gets to move on to the next viral tragedy. The only person who didn’t get anything out of this was Jeyasre Kathiravel, whose life was the collateral damage required to make a few spreadsheets look marginally more 'socially responsible.' We are a species that requires a blood sacrifice to implement a basic HR policy, and then we have the nerve to wonder why the world is on fire. It is not a bug in the system; it is the system itself, functioning with terrifying, soul-crushing efficiency. Sleep well in your 'ethically sourced' pajamas; they only cost a life and a factory's future.