I was glancing at an analysis of a livestock market report recently. The author wrote that livestock markets were improving because demand for product was increasing. Now we’ve all been weaned on the milk of capitalist eonomics so in less than a heart beat I knew that increased demand for beef product units by consumers translated into better prices for beef producers.
I was reading a piece of proposed legislation this morning that referred to the people who grow food as producers. Producers presumably grow products or product units, also known as food.
There is a trade magazine called the Vegetable Grower. Please note; it is not called the Vegetable Farmer or the Vegetable Gardener.
Recently a restaurant in Singapore had a couple of items on its menu with food names and food appearance but the material on the plate was a protein created in a laboratory. If these lab proteins catch on their production will be scaled up and industrialized and mass produced. So many hundreds of thousands of product units will be manufactured and the people who make them in sanitized and inspected factories will be producers or perhaps growers because this lifeless protein must be grown to make measurable economic units.
This industrial model lacking blood and shit and sunshine and roots and the wind on your face is a very masculine model.
I am a farmer. I am a gardener. I am not in nature. I am of nature. I am natural. I do not produce units or product. I am not a grower. I am not a producer. I put seed in ground. I nurture the plant. I eat it or give it to my neighbor. We eat it together while it rains outside. It nourishes and passes through us and we plant a seed in what was the seed and will be us again and again. We are in the circle and of the circle that is called nature.
This, I believe, is feminine. This, I believe, is farming and gardening and ranching. And it is this web of relationships which we must grow to fully be of if we are to regenerate agriculture and ourselves.
But, I’m an old white man and am ready to be corrected.
By John King In Selma, Alabama, on Sunday, March 7, 1965, John Lewis, standing in the lead of a long line of marchers, looked down from the crest of The Edmund Pettus Bridge at the line of police armed with clubs, whips and truncheons and said, “I am going to die here.” Lewis intended to lead the marchers from Selma to the capital Montgomery, to demand access to voting for Black people in Alabama. Sheriff Jim Clark lowered his gas mask and led the deputies, some on horseback and some on foot, into the line of marchers. Under swinging clubs and hooves trampling, Lewis was the first to go down. Women and children were not spared. Choking and blinded by tear gas, they were struck by clubs and truncheons wrapped with barbed wire. Lewis, with a fractured skull and a severe concussion, almost did die. The nearby Good Samaritan Hospital did not have enough beds to care for the injured marchers. A nation watched in horror as news footage of that bloody day appeared on T...
This blog reminds of "The Feeling of Power", a science fiction short story by American writer Isaac Asimov, which describes a future where humans live in a computer-aided society and have forgotten the fundamentals of mathematics, including even the rudimentary skill of counting. A good and relevant short read for these days. https://urbigenous.net/library/power.html Learn more here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Feeling_of_Power
ReplyDeleteThat was from me... not sure why the system is not seeing me as me... hmmm.
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