Injustice at the Littlest Pet Shop

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Recently, my children have gotten turned on to “The Littlest Pet Shop” toys. They are plastic, cutesie, bug-eyed, little bobble-heads. I’m not impressed by them but they enjoy them and I don’t like to deprive my children enjoyment when I can. However, the wind was knocked out of me as I turned one of the little baubles over and read a simple little word on the underbelly; “China.”

Honestly, I knew better when I plunked down $4.49 for the monstrosity. Being so far removed from the reality of the conditions that toy was probably manufactured in has jaded me, and my thinking went something like this: “Well, it doesn’t affect me in any real way, so…”

But it should affect me. And you, too. It is devilishly hard to be affected by the plight of a girl, fifteen or sixteen years old, working for less than Bob Cratchit’s wage, her only meal a bowl of broth gulped down on her very limited break, condemned to work between twelve to sixteen hours a day, to lie at night at her co-worker’s dirty feet, slaving away, exhausted with no promise of true rest. The truth is we would probably walk over the top of the amount of money these stricken girls make in a day if we found it lying in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Yet the temptation for just one more trinket is not so far out of reach, is it?

Go ahead and justify that a few cents on the American dollar in such a situation is a mint to that individual. Just don’t forget to subtract rent and food costs for the dormitory living arrangements these young people live in. Their pay then in most cases equals their expenses. Literally, some of these children drop dead from overwork. It’s a modern-day slave trade. Working in constant fear that they may lose their jobs should they fall ill, sleep late, or fail to keep up, they toil away, with no hope, no future, no voice, and abominably, nowhere to turn.

And for what? So my kids and yours can have a piece of plastic to play with that fifteen minutes later it will either be buried in a chest with many others similar to it or worse, bunkering our county landfills. I have a difficult time withholding any good thing from my children, but when I see that tiny inscription on the underside of those toys, it reminds me that they were produced upon the backs of children not much older than they are, who are leading a joyless existence, all for the sake of fulfilling my materialistic greed. My stomach churns at that notion.

The lesson here is that our excess costs us something. We may see it as a fleeting pleasure designed to curry the whim of one of our starry-eyed babies and we may never see it as a cheap piece of flotsam made by a modern-day slave. I am convinced that these things really don’t concern us so long as we get what we want and when we get it we get it cheap.

Now this post is not meant to persuade you to buy American made. I want us to think about the Christian response to social injustice and how our consumerism feeds such overseas atrocities. You would think that if our desire for more and more creates injustice, we would stand out against it. When is the last time you heard a sermon on this issue or even mentioned from the pulpit? Has it ever been alluded to in our tight Christian circles?

I readily admit that times get pretty lean around the Sisk household and that bug-eyed bobble-head is tempting to the pocketbook, knowing it will put a smile on one of my daughter’s faces at minimal expense. So, I don’t think about the tortuous route it came from and praise the Lord I could make my little one smile. Shouldn’t it rather make me weep?

I don’t know the answers to these abominations. I am neither politically nor legally savvy enough to offer even a remotely persuasive suggestion. Moreover, I am not so naïve to think that these types of toys will ever be made in America again, as they once were. What could a Christian response be? Live with less? Of course. Buy American? When I can. Deny my child a kid’s meal? Not so easy.

A required course while in seminary was Christian Missions. One graded exercise was to memorize all the capitals of nearly all the countries of the world. When the professor was queried why we should have to do such a mundane activity, he remarked that it was to “remind us that people live in those countries;” people who need a Savior, people who need to know the God who can give them a hope and a future, people who need to know that God loves them. And somehow, someway, we as God’s children need to echo that same sentiment, even if it is 3,000 miles away.

(To see a very recent report from the National Labor Committee on these things and the inspiration for this post, go here. You may be astounded to discover that a lot of religious goods, sold in mega-church gift shops and by Christian retail stores, are also made under similar circumstances. The picture of the above factory is taken from that report.)