Travels of a T-shirt - Part 1

Having read the first half of this book, it became clear to me that the issue of globalisation is explored through something unexpectedly ordinary: a cotton T-shirt. The journey begins in West Texas, which honestly feels like a surprising starting point for such a big topic. It focuses on Lubbock, the “cottonest city” in the world, and Nelson Reinsch, a long-time cotton farmer. The description of the land stood out to me with it being harsh, flat, windy and unpredictable, a little like parts of the UK. Cotton itself is fragile, so it almost seems surprising that this region became so important globally

One of the main questions that came to my mind is why the US has dominated the cotton industry for over 200 years, especially when so many other industries have shifted to countries with cheaper labour. I think this is what makes cotton such an interesting example of globalisation. On the surface, it doesn’t seem like something a wealthy country should still lead in. It’s basic, highly competitive and far from a luxury product. Yet cotton production has remained high.

The debate over government subsidies adds another layer. Very poor countries seem to argue that US subsidies make it difficult for them to compete, which challenges the idea that global trade is fully “free.” When subsidies to US cotton farmers can exceed the entire GDP of some African cotton producing nations, it shows how uneven the system can be. At the same time, I don’t think subsidies alone explain US dominance. The wider support system including research, infrastructure, technology, and financial support seems just as important. Farmers in Texas constantly adapt to weather, pests and price changes. I think that this adaptability feels central to their long-term success. 

What I found especially interesting is how far back this story goes. Cotton was central to the Industrial Revolution in the UK. Innovations like the spinning jenny dramatically increased output and reduced prices, launching a new industrial economy built on cost competition. However, lower prices definitely came with consequences. Early mills relied heavily on women and children because they were cheaper and seen as more manageable. Industrial growth and exploitation developed side by side, which I feel uncomfortable about. As wages rose in the UK, textile production shifted first to New England, then to the American South and later to Japan before eventually reaching China. Each time, the industry moved to where labour was cheaper and more controllable. Seeing this pattern repeated over centuries makes the phrase “race to the bottom” feel structural rather than dramatic. It’s not simply about one country behaving badly. It’s about how global markets reward whoever can produce goods most cheaply, creating greater profit margins.

What makes this more complicated, though, is that the same global market system that produces exploitation also appears to push economies forward. Today, that race runs through China. Cotton from Texas travels across the Pacific, where it is spun, knitted and stitched into T-shirts. Despite technological advances in farming and machinery, sewing is still largely done by young women sitting in rows, repeating the same motion. That detail stayed with me. Globalisation can sound abstract, trade flows, GDP, exports but in reality I think it’s very human.

People like me benefit from cheap clothing, and countries industrialise through textile exports. But falling prices often rely on workers with limited alternatives. I found myself wondering whether this system is sustainable not just economically, but socially and ethically. If production keeps moving toward lower wages, does the “bottom” ever truly arrive? If we look at earlier industrial powers, though, the answer seems more complicated. Manchester no longer produces cotton. Lowell, Massachusetts is now home to universities and technology firms. Former mill towns in the American South host logistics centres and advanced manufacturing. In Japan and South Korea, textiles helped ignite industrialisation, but they did not remain central forever. As workers become more educated and more expensive, industries built on cheap labour move elsewhere. That shift can be painful locally, but in a broader sense it signals development. The same industries that begin with low wages can act as a ladder by generating income, urbanisation, and experience that eventually push economies forward. This doesn’t erase exploitation, but it complicates the idea that the race to the bottom is purely destructive. China’s scale makes the situation different. Its vast rural population and systems like hukou have allowed it to maintain a large supply of low-cost labour for longer than earlier industrialisers. But even there, wages have risen sharply in some regions, and production is already beginning to shift inland or abroad. The pattern appears to continue.

The final chapters add another important dimension: the race has never gone completely unchecked. Markets push costs downward, but activists, reformers, journalists, and students have consistently pushed back. Child labour, once normal in textile production, is now widely condemned and formally banned. Factory safety standards, minimum wages, and corporate codes of conduct did not emerge automatically they were demanded. The example of Nike shows this clearly. When labour abuses were exposed, companies initially denied responsibility for conditions in overseas factories. Although, consumer pressure and student activism forced them to adopt monitoring systems and codes of conduct. What once seemed radical gradually became standard practice. Reform eventually becomes policy. The environmental discussion follows a similar pattern. It’s easy to assume factories always move to places with weak environmental laws. Though, as countries grow wealthier, people demand cleaner air and water, and regulation strengthens. I was surprised to learn that how we wash and use a T-shirt can sometimes have a greater environmental impact than where it was produced. That shifts some responsibility back to consumers. The image that stayed with me most is the transformation of an old Shanghai spinning mill into an art gallery and café. A space that once depended on low-wage factory work now supports a different kind of economy. The race didn’t disappear, it moved. Wages rose, production shifted, and the region changed.

I think the ending leaves us with an uncomfortable but important insight. The race to the bottom is real, and it can be exploitative. However, history suggests it doesn’t stay in one place forever. Standards rise, economies diversify, and what once looked like the “bottom” becomes something else.The system isn’t simple. It’s not purely good or purely bad. It keeps moving. After reading this, I don’t think I’ll ever look at a cotton T-shirt in quite the same way. What seems simple and inexpensive actually reflects centuries of industrial change, shifting labour systems, and global competition. It makes me more conscious of how easily I treat clothing as temporary. I’m not sure there’s a simple solution, but I do feel personally more responsible for the choices I will make as a consumer.