An open letter to next: a masterclass in corporate responsibility 

After the sudden closure of one of NEXT’s three owned production factories in Sri Lanka, we received this open letter, which we publish here in full

To Whom It May Concern,

Having read your most recent Corporate Responsibility Report, one could almost believe that Next plc is a moral authority on human rights, workplace ethics, and sustainability. Unfortunately, that fantasy comes crashing down the moment one compares your elegant prose with your very real, very disgraceful actions on the ground.

Let us begin with your factory closure in Katunayake, Sri Lanka—a site previously held up as a model for ethical sourcing. On 18 May 2025, over 1,400 workers were informed they were being made redundant. And how did this happen? A meeting? A letter? An HR visit? No. You chose WhatsApp—yes, that casual messaging platform best known for emojis, gossip, and family group chats—to inform workers, some of whom had given three decades of loyal service, that their livelihoods had vanished overnight. No notice, no consultation, no severance dialogue—just a message notification likely sitting next to a forwarded joke from a cousin.

This is not just poor form—it is a deliberate act of disrespect dressed up as administrative efficiency.

Your CR Report boldly states:

“We support the right to freedom of association and the right to collective bargaining.”

Yet the Katunayake facility was the only unionised site in your global network, and the only one subject to a formal trade union recognition agreement. Its closure, while your non-unionised manufacturing hubs remain untouched, is a textbook example of anti-union retaliation—cynically cloaked under the corporate euphemism of “unprofitability.” This is despite the fact that your own FY2025 results boast:

• Group sales up 8.2% to £6.32 billion

• Profit Before Tax exceeding £1.01 billion for the first time

• Online sales growing 13% YOY

• Operating margin at an all-time high

So let us get this straight:

• Record profits? Yes.

• CEO salary at £4.73 million (including a £1.4 million bonus)? Yes.

• £307 million spent on share buybacks in 2024? Yes.

• Only unionised factory closed due to “unprofitability”? Also yes.

The arithmetic of morality here does not add up. Though, we suppose in your spreadsheets, a worker’s right to organise is simply a line item marked “risk.”

And the hypocrisy does not end in Sri Lanka.

Let us not forget your closure in Myanmar—a country where your suppliers have also faced allegations of retaliating against workers for union activity. As reported by international labour watchdogs, employees at multiple Myanmar sites were dismissed shortly after forming unions or submitting collective grievances. Your factories’ “declining demand” there, much like Sri Lanka, seems suspiciously timed and selectively targeted.

You state:

“We respect internationally recognised human rights.”

Curious then, that you were named in parliamentary sessions concerning the use of Uyghur forced labour in the Xinjiang region of China. The same region where the UK Government has issued warnings under the Modern Slavery Act, and where ethical sourcing claims are under intense scrutiny.

Or that you underpaid thousands of UK staff due to repeated payroll system failures between 2021–2022—failures that went unaddressed for months, prompting HMRC to step in. Or that you lost a £30 million equal pay tribunal, after the court ruled your female retail employees were systemically underpaid in comparison to male warehouse workers—a decade-long dispute you chose to fight rather than fix.

What makes all this not just morally questionable but legally precarious, is your status as a publicly listed company on the London Stock Exchange. If your Corporate Responsibility Report forms part of investor communications—as it does, proudly listed under your investor relations portal—then misrepresenting material facts around labour, ethics, or sourcing practices could trigger obligations under:

• Section 89 of the Financial Services Act 2012 (false or misleading statements)

• The Companies Act 2006, in particular Sections 414C & 414CB, which mandate directors to disclose principal risks and non-financial KPIs truthfully

• The UK Corporate Governance Code, which expects integrity and transparency in stakeholder dealings

In other words: corporate whitewashing may play well in PowerPoint presentations, but when the facts say one thing and your annual reports say another, that is not just hypocrisy—it may also be misrepresentation.

You say you’re committed to transparency.

You say you believe in human rights.

You say people are your greatest asset.

Yet what we see—across Sri Lanka, Myanmar, China, and the UK—is a pattern of union avoidance, gender pay disparities, supply chain opacity, and reputational fire-fighting.

In short, while your glossy reports may impress ESG investors, FTSE analysts, and social media interns, those of us in the actual supply chain—and the workers you rely on—see right through it.

We are watching.

We are documenting.

And we will not be silent.

Sincerely,

A concerned shareholder.