What would a better food system look like? Is it possible to turn debates around food politics and popular culture into arenas where a positive dialogue could develop between groups looking at the world from different points of view?
Could food become an arena where a positive dialogue grows between groups and communities looking at the world from different points of view? I just got back from a trip to Shanghai, China, where I saw a food system changing rapidly, navigating tensions rooted in the country’s history, its quick development, the rise of middle classes, the displacement of farmers, and the desire of a closer connection to nature and the past (blog posts to follow soon). As China celebrates its 70ths anniversary, the country is one of the biggest global economy stakeholders, and we are already seeing the consequences of the trade wars with the US. The food systems of the two countries are closely entangled, causing producers and consumers in both countries to suffer the consequences of the diplomatic and commercial skirmishes .
Reading Scurati’s book and Gramsci’s analysis, as well as looking back at my notes from right after Trump’s election, has led me to think about if and how the global food system could become a place of negotiation and collaboration, rather than clashes and zero-sum games. Food is inevitably political, as it is entangled in economic, social, and cultural issues. What we ingest becomes who we are, and play a central role in determining individual and collective identity. The table unites and divides. Many agree that the contemporary food system is not working properly; too much production – too little production – too much technology – too little technology, and so on. It would appear impossible to agree on what a better food system would look like.
Those worried about the environment look at the loss of biodiversity, and the spread of monocultures, at the mismanagement of water and natural resources as priorities. Concerns about food security, access, justice, and sovereignty are prevalent among those who consider food as blatant example of inequality. Trade, business, and finance are central for others, with some experiencing them as positive mechanisms or growth, and sum battling them as causes of vicious circles of exploitation and exclusion. There are those who focus on issues of quality, provenance, and variety, on food as expression of cultural identity and immaterial heritage. Chefs, recipes, and restaurants have become the darlings of popular media, almost isolated from the contexts from which they originate. And so on and so forth… Among these bickering factions, looking for some common ground and shared vision that can activate everybody’s hopes, values, and emotional involvement seems unrealistic, if not quixotic.
A leap of faith may be necessary, where imagination takes the lead turn disruption and instability into opportunities for change. It may not be enough by itself, as systemic issues need to addressed with different approaches, but imagination can definitely contribute to the conversation. This is one of the reasons why in recent years I have been collaborating with designers and looking at design as an approach that is about making do with what we have and collaborating on projects that turn into forms of future-making. Looking at the food system through the provocations offered by art and design was, for instance, the inspiration for the exhibition Food: Bigger than the Plate at the Victoria and Albert Museum in London, for which I was an external advisor. But more about food and design some other time… A few years ago, in the afterword to my book Bite Me: Food in Popular Culture, I had started a reflection on these dynamics. At that time, Obama was starting the campaign that would lead him to the presidency of the United States. Hope and change were at the core of his political ascent. Here is an excerpt from that text, that I still find surprisingly current after eleven years. I only made a few minor edits to make the argument connect to current events.
“As academics and intellectuals – and, I should add, as journalists and often as informed readers – we are the heirs of the tradition initiated by Aristotle that blossomed with the Enlightenment. It is a tradition that underscores the rationality of human beings and their capacity to make informed decisions based on facts, in an incessant effort to achieve objective truths. We are trained to stick to the evidence and to develop rational and critical analyses of the world that surrounds us, looking for unbiased and verifiable realities; a very honorable activity indeed, of which I am a proud practitioner and defender.
Yet, we should realize that we live in a “society of spectacle”, a culture based on hyperreality, fake news, and solid points of reference. When it comes to market-oriented cultures, we cannot limit ourselves to analysis and disapproval: whether we accept it or not, we are all part of consumer societies. New methods and tools to deal with it are in order, particularly if we want to play any role in today’s reality instead of limiting ourselves to be informed spectators. This necessity has been outlined, among others, by political scientist Stephen Duncombe in his 2007 Dreams: Re-imagining Progressive Politics in an Age of Fantasy. Duncombe’s argument develops from the quite obvious observation that at the time the Bush administration had a solid grip on much of middle America. In the book he quoted a New York Times article, where writer Ron Suskind reported the words of a senior advisor to the president, whose name remains unknown. In an interview, the officer told Suskind, to his utter dismay: “We’re an empire now, and when we act, we create reality. And while you are studying that reality – judiciously as you will – we’ll act again creating other new realities, which you can study too, and that’s how things will sort out. We’re history actors … and you, all of you will be left to just study what we do”. The interview, published right before the election of George W. Bush to his second term as a president, proved prophetic. As Duncombe points out:
The problem, as I see it, comes down to reality. Progressives believe in it, Bush’s people believe in creating it. The left and right have switched roles – the right taking on the mantle of radicalism and progressives waving the flag of conservatism. The political progeny of the protestors who proclaimed, “Take your desires for reality” in May of 1968, were now counseling the reversal: take reality for your desires. Republicans were the ones proclaiming, “I have a dream.”
The point of this excursion into politics is that it is clear that a deep and practical understanding of the mechanisms of popular culture and the society of spectacle in general can become a very effective tool for political hegemony. The capacity of creating and spreading narratives that communicate in terms not only of rational priorities, but also of emotions, desires, and fantasies becomes a crucial weapon to have any impact on reality. Most of the time, we engage with market-driven culture in order to make its critique, to uncover its tight connection with consumerism, to debunk fads and fashions, or to demonstrate how popular culture actually fosters, solidifies, and naturalizes concepts and perceptions that sometimes hinder the development of free and thinking subjects. We all acknowledge that contemporary imagination is heavily based on consumption and commoditization. Nevertheless, there can be ways to ensure that somehow passive consumption becomes active enjoyment and then participation and choice.
To reach this goal in the field of food and food choices, it might not be enough to focus on what is good and right for the single citizen and for society at large, on what is nutritious and healthy for the body, and on what can help the environment in order to ensure the future of humanity. Although these are important objectives to which we should adhere in our everyday choices, there is one aspect that very often is left out in our intellectual discourse: personal pleasure. I am not implying that pleasure is not cultural and context-sensitive, just like desires and even fantasies are. Neither am I referring to any pre-symbolic dimension of our inner life, purely emotional and instinctive, that can act as an antidote to rationality. However, we often end up focusing on all those aspects of food that are connected with its function as fuel (for the body, for society, for the economy, for the planet), and we forget that subjective experiences play a key role in everyday life.
Unfortunately, in the academic, intellectual, and even activist environment we are often very good at leaving the fun out of food. That is too bad, because I do believe with anthropologist Arjun Appadurai that “where there is pleasure, there is agency”. Pleasure is powerful, anarchical, self-centered, irrational, and emotional. It can constitute a very disruptive and subversive element in any social structure, as all past and present totalitarian propaganda machines have proven, since it can become a very effective tool to create consent. What if it were used not to bamboozle but to stimulate? The question is: How do we free pleasure? How do we redirect desires and fantasies towards positive, constructive goals?”
To be continued…