I'm Late For Farm Class

Throughout the entirety of his book, Thompson continuously reverts back to the Jeffersonian ideal of agriculture, which places farmers on a pedestal as virtuous and model citizens for a society.  The intimate connection to the land, dependency on a place, and the virtues obtained through farming allow for desirable attributes that may aid us in our attempt to alter the situation we find ourselves in today.  Although the focus is mainly on farmers, Thompson also admits that Jefferson considered educators to be on a similar platform, for they “could serve as models for essential virtues…through self-discipline and the respect for truth” (Thompson, 191).  

The linkage of agriculture and education seems to be a curious notion.  Would our current educational system, mainly that of primary education, ever allow for an agricultural based experience in addition to the traditional subjects of Math, Science, Social Studies, and English?  

 I am reminded of a conversation I had with a friend and recent graduate of St. Michaels, Patrick Cranell, who spent a summer working on an organic farm.  Upon working in the fields all day and learning the agricultural roots and practices, Patrick insisted that working on a farm for some allotted amount of time should be mandatory for all able children.  As Berry and Thompson have alluded too, Patrick argued that there is a sense of morality obtained and a swift slap in the face from reality when one is working on a farm.  The true work, and pushing the body to the brink of exhaustion, greatly increased the appreciation for farmers, food, ecosystem, and social relations.  He also had a weaker argument saying that the majority of us do not remember what we learned in the early years of grade school, so why not replace that with farming and gain experiential knowledge?  Nevertheless, his idea is compelling.

Upon discussing this topic with other family and friends, I was met with negative reactions simply being that it was a stupid idea, and that the traditional areas of academia are most important.  Allowing farming into education would be irrelevant, a waste of time, and inefficient, ultimately leading to a degradation of our education system (which is odd considering the many flaws in our system anyway).  

Still, I cannot bring myself to believe these counter arguments.  Giving children the ability to farm within an educational schooling environment I think would be advantageous on many fronts.  They would learn matters of Science through crop biology, soil fertility, and animal husbandry; They would learn Math through seasonal rotation, polycultural farming, and the economics of selling food; They would learn literary techniques through the reading of agricultural and environmental writers; And they would learn a local Social Studies through the history of the land and place.  Even if all of the lessons learned are forgotten, like Patrick suggests we have already, there is a chance that these children would be instilled with morals and virtues still allowing them to be positive members of society.   So, could agricultural practices be allowed into the schooling system in addition to the traditional subjects of academia? 

What Happens If A Community Is Wrong?

Overall I understand the discussions of values in the Cartesian sense and the Linguistic Communities approach given be Sellars.  The Cartesian philosophy is enticing, however as we discussed in class, several issues arise; mainly it does not account for the phenomenon where objects seem to have value even if there is no external valuer, nor does it give much hope for the non-sentient beings who still possess value.  Furthermore, the discussions revolving around intrinsic vs. extrinsic value, and subjective vs. objective value become ambiguous and abstract for it is difficult to determine the sources of the value.  As offered by Thompson, Sellar's Linguistic Communities theory states that values emerge from a series of accepted assumptions that, whether consciously or unconsciously, govern a given community.  It also follows from this that we must be respective of other communities for they possess different assumptions and traits: and in order for mutual collaboration we must be open to Others. 

Although I agree that we must be open and respectful, I am concerned with a potentially unsettling ethical dilemma.  How must we regulate this openness to Others, especially if the Others are taking part in activities that are seen as immoral or unethical?  Even though it is tradition, many view female genital mutilation as wrong and immoral.  In this case we say hell with tradition and intervene to stop this practice. But as a result we are not being "open" to this culture.  So what are we to do if we want to respect these communities?  I understand that if we unpack this question discussions will arise about the definition of immoral and unethical.  Further, conversations of rights may muddle the concerns here...for example, what gives us the right to interfere with say other traditions or the like?  So.  All philosophical debate aside, there are real concerns that we must face.

The book "The Spirit Catches You And You Fall Down" by Anne Fadiman is a good example of this concern.  The book follows Lia, a Hmong child diagnosed with severe epilepsy, and her family's cultural struggle that ultimately halts her treatments.  Lia's parents hold strong to there traditional Hmong roots, especially when it comes to healing systems.  They are unsure of the Western biomedical model of treatment and continually refer to Shamanistic spiritual healing practices (while ignoring doctors orders) in an attempt to "fix" the continuing problems they believed are worsening because of the western medical system.  Through a series of language barriers, opposing views of medicine, ignoring medical treatments, and the struggle between two colliding cultures, Lia's condition worsens dramatically.  Lia slips into a coma at age 4, and is not expected to live.  Miraculously she survives but is left with severe brain damage and next to no motor skills.  Many doctors believe that these outcomes could have been avoided if her parents followed the treatments correctly, but the cultural and language barriers proved to be too high. 

In this scenario many ethical questions arise.  Should the doctors have been able to overrule the parent's choice to use traditional Hmong medical practices over western medicine?   If so, would Lia's parents be denied of some moral right to their tradition?  Or, since Lia is at an age where she cannot make life altering decisions on her own, are her parents to blame for her worsening condition?  Did the parents decision deprive Lia of her right to a potentially healthy life?  Is it immoral to continue with traditional practices even if they are not the best option? 

Even though this example is much more severe than the case of agriculture, I think that there are similar complications that may arise.  How are we to deal with differing values about ecosystems, land, and the species that inhabit them?  How are we to confront those who are not yet convinced that, say, animals and trees have moral rights?  Will we be stuck in a never ending, self-defeating debate about whose values are right and wrong?  Can these different communities truly function if there are others that are on the other end of the spectrum?  And what happens if we choose to rebel against these assumptions?  As seen in the art world, almost every movement is a progression and a rebellious response to the times.  What are we to do if values come from assumptions, but these assumptions can be rebelled against, leading to a new set of accepted assumptions? 

So I suppose the question we are left with is: Can we truly be open and respectful to other communities with different values?

A Cosmopolocalism Of Food?

In attempt to blur the dichotomy between localism and cosmopolitanism we discussed a third alternative that combined the two: cosmopolocalism.  Essentially this is comprised of a literal groundedness and connection to a specific place, a ridding of us vs. them mentality, concern over urban and local culture, and lastly, concern of sustainability and global justice.  This suggestion is a median between the two extremes that may bring a moral and environmental balance between the differing mentalities.  I am curious if there is room for a type of agricultural cosmopolocalism in Thompsons agrarian vision or Berry's romanticized localism. 

It seems that we currently have a dichotomy of agriculture.  On one side, the industrial agriculturalist, and on the other, the organic small farmer.  This has led to similar complications that all dichotomy's eventually lead to.  Industrial Organic Agriculture has risen as perhaps an unintended mediator of the two, although it is not the solve all solution despite its few steps in the right direction. 

The tried and true localist presumes that the members of a place must eat whatever is native or grown in the local area.  There is no room for imported fruits or non-native species that we have become accustomed too.  Whereas the industrialist is the exact opposite and wants to provide all products that the eater may think of.  We know the problems with the industrialist process so I won't belabor that point.  And we know that the localized system may be able to solve some of these problems too.  But are the strict guidelines and restrictions of localism necessary?  Or can there be a cosmopolocalism of food that allows for a responsible acquiring of foreign products?

This thought is similar to a previous post that asked if eating a fruit from across the country was still ethical if say, transportation was improved so there were next to no environmental costs.  As much as I'd like to embrace localism full heartedly, I realize that I have become spoiled...and I assume the masses are as well.  I worry that this extreme alteration may not be welcomed.  Is there any kind of ethical medium that would allow for some foreign food products to be brought into a localized food system? 

What's The New GDP?

Many claim that we have become a culture with a decreasing knowledge of our natural landscapes.  This is not a farfetched claim for most of us could probably name more corporate logos than trees or plant species in our backyards.  However, there is a vast amount of knowledge about our environment preserved by farmers, conservations, and environmentalists alike.  Although most of us may not know this knowledge, it still exists.  And it is a curious thing that we do not take that knowledge into account when determining the measurements for our economic standards.  Pollan dedicates several paragraphs to the benefits of the surrounding forest of Polyface Farm, the external costs that are not taken into consideration, and the almost endless benefits that forest provides. Thompson also discusses how during the colonial revolutions Jefferson and others alike viewed agriculture and ecosystem services as a crucial tool for the revival of the colonies.  I cannot help but wonder how or when this shift from agrarian standards to gross domestic product took place. 

I assume it was a gradual process with the implementation of capitalistic ideals.  But why is it that our economic standards do not take into consideration natural elements and ecosystem services?  Especially considering that the most economists would secretively agree that GDP is not accurate in presenting true numbers.  As Pollan discusses, industrial agriculture on the surface is cheap, but only because it does not take into consideration the costs of pollution, deforestation, soil erosion, etc. Even on a broader sense, there is something to be said about a system that sees an oil spill as more economically beneficial than if that oil tanker had arrived to ports safely (discussed in the video "What is the Economy Worth Anyway" with Dave Batker of Earth Economics). 

 Nevertheless, we have laboriously talked about the faults of GDP measurement systems in other classes, so why is GDP still the reigning economic measuring system?  Is developing a system based on the overall health of a landscape, while still allowing humans to cultivate that land,  plausible?  If so, what would that look like?  Would we run the risk of further commodifying nature by putting a monetary value on it?

What Are We Non-Farmers Supposed To Do?

With all this agricultural revolution talk, what are we non-farmers supposed to do?  With this push for more local farms we will need more farmers.  Where are these farmers coming from?  After each reading I feel an almost moral obligation to take up the role of small organic farmer, but it is not something I want to make my life.  Because we are learned individuals are we the ones who need to take the first step and fulfill this obligation regardless of our own interests?  Maybe there is a vast storage of farmers who are waiting to get an opportunity that will relieve us non-farmers.  I don't know.

But nevertheless there is a cognitive dissonance felt, at least for me personally, when I realize I don't want to be a farmer despite being told otherwise by writers like Wendell Berry.  As of now my justification is that I take part in a CSA.  I find this to be a necessary step for those who  don't see themselves going further than gardner.  I won't go into the perks of a CSA because we have laboriously discussed them in class.  But what else can be done to lessen this moral tension? What is it that we non-farmers ought to do? 

Where Are All The Small Farms?

I understand all the arguments for industrial agriculture, but I have yet to fully grasp why industrial agriculture is the reigning champ when it comes to our food system. If there were no other farming alternatives known I could see the extraneous costs of IA as almost justifiable, and the limited products produced as just a simple consequence of trying to feed such a high population.  But obviously this is not the only way to farm.  McKibben suggests, with convincing numbers, that smaller farms produce more food on all fronts and are more efficient in both an economic and environmental sense.  If this is the case, why are smaller farmers pushed to the back burners?  

Have small operating farms been left in the dark because the consumer, when it comes down to it, only wants cheap food?  I have yet to see a study that shows organic food in the long run is actually more expensive, so why does the "organic" label come with the stereotype of high class fine dining?  Why aren't small farms the big powerhouses they should be?

McKibben attempts to answer this question, but his answer is mediocre at best; One paragraph that mentions subsidies, monopolized corporate dealings.  His answer?  "We have substituted oil for people (pg. 67 of Deep Economy)." Valid answer.  Better than mine because I don't even have one.  But can it really be as simple as our addiction to oil? On the one hand it may be nice for it to be true because then that means only one major problem to solve.  But on the other, what does that make us humans if we are so easily thwarted by one industry?  Seems a bit disheartening if you ask me.  

So maybe we must look deeper.  Yes oil is a major player in this game, but what are the others?

Trust and Faith

Has food, one of life's basic essential necessities, become a matter of trust and faith?  A trust and faith not so much in a religious sense, but rather a humanistic, person to person sense.  If food has become a matter of trust and faith, what happens when that trust and faith becomes exploited? 

I suppose in some ways we have always put faith into our food.  Our ancestors were dependent on some entity to provide them with food. The hunter gatherer societies depended on the forest, the plains, plants, animals, essentially the whole overall ecological system to produce food. 

Has this dependency also followed us as we moved from hunter-gatherers to industrial agriculturists?  I have to say yes to this question simply because only 2 percent of our population are in the agricultural field. If the rest of the population, us 98 percenters, aren't growing our own food, what are we doing?  We are putting faith into a small group of individuals to provide us with a basic need so we can explore and develop our own interests and skills. 

On the forefront I see nothing wrong with this form of specialization.  It is most likely beneficial for the whole if everyone is able to hone in on his or her skills.  But what happens when this theoretical specialization is corrupted?  It would seem that if only 2 percent are growing our food, the rest of the 98 percent would be keeping them in check, holding the growers to a high standard.  As we can see with industrial agricultural and its myriad of costs as well as manipulative properties that has not been the case.

Ultimately, if we cannot trust the main suppliers of our food, who are we to put our faith in?  It seems that the answer we jump quickest to is the farmer.  What is the farmer?  It may be false to say, but jumping to this conclusion is running the risk of being cliché.  When we say farmer, there are idealistic, romanticized, almost euphoric images laced with it.  Of course the rugged cowboy tipping his hat gazing at the sun as it sets over the horizon and casts its orange rays across gently swaying blades of wheat grass will come to save the day.  It is a nice image.  I'll admit that.  But I think that is all it is. I am no farmer, but it seems like farming in this day and age is anything but nice.  I think we must dive deeper into that answer and see if the farmer can truly supply us.  Can the local farmer keep up with the rising demand for ethically grown and raised food without corrupting his or her ideals when the need for expansion arises?  How can the small farmer remain economically stable without dismissing his or her beliefs?  How do they avoid the phenomenon of becoming industrial organic farms?  Can the small local organic farm survive the increasing human population?  I do not know.  These are the several walls I hit.

Although I have run the risk of sounding cynical, I don't think all is lost in the answer of farmer.  There must be some hope laced in with the farmer as well.  Buying locally, participating in a CSA, farmers markets, and building relationships with the farmers are all incredibly helpful first steps.  They should be implemented as much as possible.  But there must be more.  What this more is I have yet to find.  Hopefully it is somewhere underneath all of these discussions, and it is simply a matter of letting it come to light. 
  

Is It Really All Science's Fault?

In the discussion of ethics behind genetic manipulation, there seems to be tension between science and its technological innovation, and the implementation of that science.  Do conflicts arise because the science and technology are bad in and of themselves?  Is it the way the science is used, whether in a positive or negative manner, that is the real root of the problem?  Or is it a more complex mutual relationship where both are at fault? 

There is a part of me that finds nothing fundamentally wrong with, say, the genetic modification of a grain of rice in areas of malnutrition so it has higher levels of certain nutrients.  If anything it can be seen as a pure example of good science.  This is what science is supposed to do.  It is a clever answer to a difficult problem. 

And yet, I still find myself wanting to oppose it...for what seems to be no reason other than it is genetic engineering...because genetic engineering is bad isn't it?  That is what we have been taught and led to believe.  It seems like there is a general categorization process that clumps all genetic modification under this umbrella of negativity.  Why?  Maybe it is because of our stubborn, liberal, pretentious, earthy granola, big business hating environment we find ourselves in so it is our social duty to represent this platform. 

For me that's a little too cynical and pessimistic.  To make my conscience feel better, I'd like to think that overall it is a delicate game where, in this case, genetically modifying organisms isn't necessarily bad in itself.  It can actually be used for greatly improving livelihood and is a pure example of scientific innovation.  But the trouble lies in the implementation of this technology, and this is where the ethical issues stem from.  For what if Monsanto was comprised of environment and human loving localvores who are genetic modification purists and are leading the way in ethically sustained food?  Would we still oppose them as strongly as we do the current multi-national corporation?  I assume we would not.  So perhaps genetic modification isn't totally at fault here.  I suppose, just like anything else in this world, something fundamentally good can be used for bad. 

The Vitality of the Supermarket Mindset

      After just a handful of years the majority of the United States has become spoiled with our system of widespread supermarkets.  And who wouldn't succumb to the awesomeness of say, Wegmans, since any item, even from the far reaches of the earth, are at your fingertips.   I cannot help but wonder, is this word spoiled a negative, or positive adaption of our livelihood. 
  
      In class we have belabored the environmental, ethical, and traditional quandaries that tag along with the overblown industrial food system that allows for these supermarkets so I won't preach that any further.  However, I am stuck on one thought that was brought up in class: limiting choices at the supermarket will bring back traditional knowledge of our food landscape.  In essence, bringing to the forefront the localvore movement.  But how are we to limit grocery stores to items that only grow in that area?  Now that might be at the most extreme levels, so let's ask, how do we limit grocery stores to items that can only be produced in the United States?  I am no economist but that seems like the silver bullet to the grocery store industry.  And on the other hand, it seems like a near impossible task to convert all United States citizens to promote limiting in a culture built on over consumption.  It might be easy to convince a classroom full of young college students whose interest lie in organic food systems, but what about the rest of the country?  Seems like a daunting task riddled and teeming with social, political, cultural, and ethical complications.. 
 
 Now I am not against the local food movement.  If anything I am 100 percent for it.  But if I want to eat a mango or some other tropical fruit I bought at the market, why should I feel guilty about it?  I suppose all the environmental costs that are hidden in the background are good enough reasons.  But would foreign foods become more acceptable if the transportation and environmental concerns were addressed?  What if we were to use aircrafts instead of 18-wheelers, or improve our railroad systems so they are high speed bullets, or better yet, research the repelling magnetic propulsed train that doesn't use any fossil fuels.  It seems like the supermarket mentality and the wide variety of food isn't necessarily the problem...it's the hidden processes that take place behind the scenes to allow this privilege.  Maybe promoting a widespread localvore movement is the key to all these locked doors... or maybe that's missing a larger overarching problem...who knows?