The exploitation of migrant workers has been effectively written into Spain’s policies since at least the 1990s. Nowhere is that clearer than in its flagship seasonal workers programme GECCO (a Spanish acronym for ‘Collective Management of Hiring in Origin’).
Conceived at the turn of the millennium as a way to replenish Spain’s dwindling agricultural labour force, GECCO allows employers to temporarily hire migrant workers directly from origin countries. In 2022, 18,565 people from five countries were granted visas under the scheme. The single biggest group within this was Moroccan women, accounting for more than 90% of the total.
Reports of workplace abuse and exploitation are common among people employed under the scheme. While experiences vary, their stories reveal that the mistreatment of women migrating for work is a systemic issue within GECCO that has yet to be fully acknowledged, let alone addressed.
Spain’s intention to further grow GECCO makes dealing with its problems all the more urgent. In August, the Spanish prime minister said he wanted to increase opportunities for legal, temporary migration while on a visit to Gambia, Mauritania and Senegal. This suggests GECCO might soon be expanding into West Africa. It shouldn’t. At a time when migrant workers and advocates are calling for systemic reforms to rid GECCO of exploitation, Spain urgently needs to get its house in order before allowing any more workers to fall into this trap.
Everyone wins but the migrants
The transition from the European Economic Community to the European Union in the 1990s strongly impacted migration into and out of Spain. Historically a country of origin for migrant labour, it became a major country of destination. Between 2000 and 2009, Spain was the second largest recipient of immigrants in the world, just after the US.
As people migrating to Spain gradually gained regular status and climbed the job ladder, the government adopted measures to both curb permanent settlement and address labour shortages in certain sectors, particularly the agricultural and service industries. They sought to be more selective about who they let in, and to place stronger limits on how long they would stay.
GECCO is the product of that policy shift. Created in 1999, GECCO links a migrating person’s residence permit to their employment contract and does not allow the worker to change employer or sector. Today temporary workers overwhelmingly go to the province of Huelva. They start coming in February and usually leave around May. Most of those migrating to work on Spanish fruit farms under this scheme are women, and many of them return to do the same work several years in a row.
On paper, GECCO promises to meet the needs of all parties. Spain gets the workers it needs for the required length of time. Countries of origin reduce their unemployment levels and increase income via remittances without losing population. And migrants access better-paying jobs than those available locally through a secure pathway, all while maintaining links back home.
But in reality, the deal offered to migrants was always meagre at best and dangerous at worst.
The steps to exploitation through GECCO
The conditions for exploitation are written into the legislation regulating GECCO. They start with the first arrangements for working in Spain. Once the workers are selected by the Spanish employer, they’re kept in the dark about when they will leave or return. The employer decides this depending on their production needs, and isn’t required to consult with or even notify the employee.
Working a temporary job without knowledge of, or control over, the end date makes it very difficult for migrants to assert their rights in the workplace. Refusing to comply with an order could mean an immediate return home, or not getting reselected next year. This threat makes it more likely that a worker will choose to grin and bear it if their employer violates the contract, for example by asking for tasks not stipulated in the job description or by requiring unpaid overtime.
Workers can never permanently settle, even those who have worked for years on Spanish soil. They cannot change employers to pursue better opportunities elsewhere, even in the same sector, and as a result companies have no need to compete over working conditions or wages in order to attract workers. If the employer is abusive, workers are effectively trapped in the choice of tolerate the abuse or go home early.
Patriarchy and exploitation are at the heart of the GECCO seasonal workers’ programme
Workplace practices within companies hiring through GECCO also show that exploitation is often a norm. The complaints procedures in many workplaces are weak and opaque; there is no effective trade union presence. Appropriate support is also rarely in place for workers who do not speak Spanish. All of this makes it difficult for workers to take complaints higher up the chain or to confidently navigate their surroundings.
Farms are also in rural locations, far from the sight of public institutions and independent associations. This means that workers have almost no contact with local communities. They are dependent on their employer to access shops and other basic services.
Disturbingly, women working on the farms have also recounted incidents of sexual abuse and sometimes rape. This probably happens more frequently than we know. Isolated locations, language barriers, and the leverage employers hold over workers all make it likely that many incidents of both sexual and non-sexual abuse never get reported.
The majority female workforce that travels to work on Spain’s fruit farms every year have little control over their employment options. Inside Spain they experience isolation, blocked avenues to recourse, and many types of abuse. All together this paints a picture of patriarchy and exploitation at the heart of the GECCO seasonal workers’ programme.
Policy changes are urgently needed
Like other seasonal worker programmes in Japan, Australia, Sweden, Canada or Israel, GECCO is deliberately designed to provide employers with a tool that perfectly meets their needs. But it has no counterweight to allow migrants to exercise their rights or take part in decision making that affects them.
GECCO needs to be fundamentally reformed if further abuse and exploitation are to be prevented. That should be the minimum bar for success, but policymakers should be aiming much higher than that. Policies should be built into GECCO that enable migrant workers to thrive in Spain regardless of their gender or where they come from.
One crucial aspect of those reforms is building in compliance monitoring. With the involvement of trade unions and migrant workers themselves, specific public bodies should be created to ensure safety and respect inside GECCO and other temporary migration programmes. Proper channels should be opened for workers to complain about problems at work without fear of consequence. And employers should be held to account for the mistreatment of their workers.
Only then can policymakers justify calling temporary migration programmes such as GECCO a ‘win-win’.
