On Films and Knowing Where Your Food Comes From

While I was making seitan (italian style, with oregano, garlic and onions baked in) for this weekend’s guests last night, I watched "The Fever," starring Vanessa Redgrave. The film tied in nicely with a comment by Alex on my Rethos post from last week: Social Change and Food.

Here’s the story: Vanessa Redgrave plays a wealthy woman with a raging fever. During the delirium of her fever, she recalls much of her life, including an awakening of sorts when she questions what it takes to provide her with the life she lives. She reads some Karl Marx, ponders the fetishism of commodities, and travels to nameless, war-torn and/or poverty-stricken countries to get a feel for what is involved in the production of the luxuries of her life. I won’t tell you how it ends.

Commenter Alex wondered whether we should be required to view slaughterhouse footage in high school, so we know where our food comes from (and yes, I responded that usage is the core problem).

This got me thinking about a social justice/nonviolence curriculum that includes not only where the animals you eat come from and whether or not it’s fair to use them for food, but also where your oranges come from, your strawberries, the sugar in your coffee, your coffee. This isn’t about animals. This is about what we do to the earth, the sky, the animals and each other in order to make a profit.

Several days ago I watched "The Panama Deception." It plays perfectly into Confessions of an Economic Hitman, by John Perkins, which is a must-read for every American citizen (the rest of the world probably knows the contents. We here tend to be a bit reluctant to see ourselves as imperialists). Again, the theme is what’s really going on versus the illusion. And the illusion is difficult to accept as such if you’re positioned to benefit.

You’ll tell yourself all kinds of things to keep it going:

• "The people of Panama are lucky we came along!"
• "What would Ecuador and Colombia be without us!"
• "The animals are fortunate we care enough about them to manage them."
• "Without the slaughterhouses and sugar plantations, how would migrant workers support themselves?"

I’m not convinced that the problem is capitalism necessarily. I’m more convinced that the way capitalism is being done is the problem. I don’t think everyone will do whatever it takes to profit, nor do I think that profit is the only–or the primary–goal for some business owners.

It is true that capitalism has a soul–many souls, in fact. The souls make it run and the souls can choose ethics, integrity, sustainability and justice as the values that drive their small corners of commerce. Yes, they might fail because of their ideals. But that doesn’t mean that the system will never tolerate values like yours or mine.

When I first registered to vote I did so as a Socialist. And though I’m certainly not a traditional capitalist, I’m not ready to say that capitalism cannot evolve along with the entrepreneurs who make it all work, and then make it all work for more than just a select few.