A couple of weeks ago, we had a pretty fantastic debate over on Facebook about this community garden project at a church in Somerville. We’ve been thinking a lot about our own anti-corporate position, our own objection to the world’s second-largest food corporation co-sponsoring a local initiative to reconnect communities to fresh veggies and all of the interesting and passionate things our localvore community on the FB had to say about this. (As a side note, I’ve been reading very fascinating stuff about what it means to be a corporation, and the history of such things, in Thom Hartmann’s Unequal Protection. Highly recommend.)
Anyway, I was recently invited to write a column for OtherWords, an op-ed syndicate that is affiliated with my day job. I chose to write about this topic. So, um, here it is.
Community Gardens Don’t Excuse What Kraft Did to American Food
Big Food won’t be absolved by tossing a fraction of its fortunes toward urban plots.
by Kristi Ceccarossi
A few weeks ago, a churchyard near my city apartment was converted into a garden. A group of local volunteers hammered together raised beds, trucked in new soil, and planted berries, tomatoes and greens with the hope of growing fresh food for a local soup kitchen.
It doesn’t get much warmer and fuzzier than that, but I’m pretty repulsed by it.
As someone who advocates for a more localized food system where we can all have a stronger connection to what we’re eating and to the backstory of how it was grown, you’d think I’d support this kind of project. And I would, were it not for the fact that it was built in partnership with Triscuit. Yes, the cracker company, which is owned by Kraft Foods, Inc., the world’s second-largest food corporation.
This spring, to mark what is the start of the growing season for most of us, the marketing machine at Triscuit is breaking ground on more than 50 gardens like this in dozens of cities around the country. According to spokeswoman Allison Goldstein, that’s because Triscuit believes in the simple joys of growing your own food in a local garden, “no matter where you live.” Apparently, Triscuit also believes in emblazoning gardens with its logo and highlighting the joy it yields through organized press events.
It’s hard to find something bad to say about any garden, and even harder to fault one that will feed hungry people. But it’s just as difficult to reconcile what could and should be a genuine community initiative with sponsorship from a corporation with about $50 billion in annual sales.
For one thing, there’s the irony. Food giants like Kraft are largely to blame for the woeful transformation of our food system over the last 50 years, and the lost connection my grandparents’ generation had to what they ate and where it came from. By churning out Cheez Whiz, Cool Whip, Oreos and other highly processed foods, which require immense farms, Kraft and its ilk have allowed us to forget how to cook every day with fresh produce and bury the memory of what it means to grow our own food.
But now, through a confluence of contamination scares, Michael Pollan books, and the obesity crisis, thousands of Americans are questioning whether we should have forgotten how to cook just because we could heat up frozen dinners. We’re taking our money out of the supermarket chains and back to local farmers and independent shops, like our grandparents used to do, and we’re supporting a food system that’s better for the planet, our economy and our health in the process. Clearly Kraft has taken note.
Perhaps Kraft officials think Big Food can be absolved by tossing a fraction of its fortunes towards urban plots that will, realistically, feed very few people. Maybe they hope that we’ll forget the dozens of food recalls it’s been subjected to over the last two years alone, and see this gesture as a step in the right direction–that Kraft is on our side.
I don’t care how many seed packets Kraft stuffs into its Original and Reduced-Fat Triscuit boxes. I don’t trust companies of this scale when they tell me they care about gardening or fresh food or my neighborhood, because everything that preserves their bottom line tells me the opposite.
But more importantly, I don’t need the mammoth corporation that manufactures Velveeta to help me clear a bit of earth and prepare it for cultivation. None of us do. If we want to build community, change our food system or plant a garden, we don’t have to look beyond our neighborhood and its collective resources to do that. And that’s true, no matter where you live.
I was one of the people who reacted negatively to your comment on Facebook. But this editorial is well thought out, rationally laid out, and I agree with it, for what it’s worth.
I’d be interested to hear more of your thoughts on the Hartmann book. I didn’t know of it until now, but I’ve read similar work by other authors. Assuming it’s not the first on the topic you’ve read, what does it add to the growing body of literature on the subject? Strengths? Weaknesses?
And, as you alluded to somewhat, in 1989 Philip Morris (now Altria) completed a $12.9 billion merger of Kraft Inc. (adding it to the ranks of Oscar Mayer meats, Maxwell House coffee, Kool-Aid, Jell-O) “to lessen its dependence on tobacco,” adding Nabisco to the fold in 2000 which is how you get a Nabisco branded Kraft Triscuit. I only mention it because I think it draws out the irony even more: A tobacco giant “tossing a fraction of its fortunes towards urban plots…”
And since I’ve mentioned Jell-O, I’ll just add one final tangent. Your neighbors in Woburn have some gripes in their backyard (see Paul Meaney, What’s an odor between friends? Neighbors fretting over Kraft smells, Boston Globe, Aug. 28, 2008, http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2008/08/28/whats_an_odor_between_friends/) .
That’s been going on/known about/reported on since at least 1992 when the Toxics Use Reduction Act of 1989 (Mass. Gen. Laws Ann. ch. 21I (West 2010)) began requiring companies that “use more than 10,000 pounds annually of about 250 chemicals on the federal Superfund list [to] make annual reports on how the substances are stored, processed and disposed.” (Andy Dabilis, State: Local Firms Increased Use of Toxic Materials, Boston Globe, Sept. 25, 1994).
“The biggest user of toxic materials in the area”? Yeah, surprise.
I think your article is great. I’m curious about how this project came about. Did Triscuit pick a location, organize people and get things started, or did Kraft find a site that people were already interested in turning into a community garden and simply throw down the cash to make it happen.
If it’s the former, I would be worried about the lack of investment from the community. When Kraft becomes bored with the community garden movement, will the garden simply collapse?
If it’s the latter, I agree that it is an underhanded and disingenuous move on the part of Kraft. But, having been in situations myself where big, dumb companies are throwing around their money, it is hard to turn down much-needed resources.
Maybe somebody should run a homemade cracker making workshop in somerville and advertise it around the garden. It’s not as hard as you would think, and it’s certainly better for you than anything Kraft makes.
Excellent rant. I will pick two bones with you though.
1. Maybe you don’t need this toxic food monster’s money to clear some ground and plant some tomatoes, but maybe they did need the money. I never fault a group for using tainted money until they start to stink themselves.
2. I trust them completely. They will do whatever it takes to increase market share. Even if it kills me.