Toyota Driving Automakers' Global Race to the Bottom

Beneath Toyota's buffed shine lies a dark undercoat. The Toyota Corporation enjoys a fine reputation for well-built cars, environmental innovation, flexible production lines and effective management practices. But in its quest for ever-increasing efficiency, profitability and growth, the world's largest auto manufacturer has sparked a race to the bottom that, like its car sales, is global in scope.

Around the world, the company has been complicit in union busting in the Philippines, and engages in cozy relationships with Burma/Myanmar's military dictatorship.

In the U.S. -- where Toyota has 13 facilities employing some 36,000 people, and sells an average of 56,923 vehicles each week -- the need of the Big Three (General Motors, Ford and Daimler Chrysler) auto companies to compete is causing profound changes in the industry.

And in Japan, at its flagship operation in Toyota City, some 30 percent of the workforce is temporary workers who earn as little as half what permanent employees do. In the surrounding area, a network of closely-related supplier companies utilizes thousands of foreign guest workers under conditions that, by many definitions, qualify as human trafficking.

Toyota Japan has also created a work environment so stressful that, each year, an estimated 200 to 300 employees are incapacitated or killed from overwork and stress related illness.

Prius in the Making

In 2002, the year he died, Kenichi Uchino was 30 years old and married, with a three-year-old daughter and a one-year-old son. He had worked as a quality control inspector for the Prius hybrid at Toyota's Tsutsumi plant in Toyota City, north of Nagoya. Following his father and grandfather, who were both lifetime Toyota employees, Uchino had joined the company right out of high school, and was a good worker.

But as Toyota management added more and more responsibilities to his work load, Uchino began to feel the strain of the enormous overtime that was expected -- and mostly unpaid. After his official, eight-hour shift was over, he prepared reports for the next shift. He had additional tasks relating to health and safety and traffic control inside the plant. Uchino was also a quality-circle leader. Toyota prides itself on employee participation in problem solving and constant improvement. Several times a month, workers meet in groups of ten or so, and are expected to submit at least two well-fleshed-out suggestions each month for improvement. All this time -- to meet, to coordinate the group, write up suggestions and so forth -- took place off-the-clock.

Adding to their physical and mental strain, Toyota workers alternate weekly between day and night shifts. On the day shift, Uchino routinely worked 13 to 15 hours a day, often six days a week, from 5:40 a.m. to 8:00 or 9:00 p.m. The week before he died, he put in 85 hours counting the three hours he worked at home on Sunday. The week he died, he was on the night shift, normally 70 hours a week, from 3:20 p.m. to 5:20 a.m. He typically got home around 7:00, just as his wife Hiroko was getting up to make breakfast. But on the morning of February 9, 2002, he never came home. At 4:20 a.m., 13 hours into what would have been his regular 14-hour shift, he collapsed in his office. Twenty minutes later he was pronounced dead from a heart attack. But the real cause of death, was a condition so common that a word was created to describe it: "karoshi," literally death from overwork.

"He kept saying and hoping things would get better," said Hiroko Uchino in an April interview, "but they didn't, and he died."

Hiroko was left with two young children to support. When Toyota refused to acknowledge her husband's death as work-related, she went to the Japanese Labor Bureau and then to court to win his pension. Kenichi Uchino had kept meticulous records of his work time, which totaled a stunning 155 hours of overtime in the 30 days before his death. Toyota claimed that he had only worked 45 hours of overtime -- saying that the rest of the time was voluntary. Almost six years later, in November 2007, the court recognized 110.5 hours of overtime (putting aside the hours Uchino had worked offsite) and judged that, indeed, Uchino had died of overwork.