Thursday, September 26, 2013

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. 
  

Sunday, September 15, 2013

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. 

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

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?