After an intensive week of hard work, collaboration, and camaraderie, the group here at One Week | One Tool is proud to announce the launch of Serendip-o-matic, the serendipity engine where your sources are your search!
Have you ever been curious about those long, vertically slatted, empty-looking barns near Bradley Airport and lining the riverfront of Glastonbury? In case you weren’t aware, they’re tobacco barns, for drying the shade-grown tobacco (yep, that’s what those ghostly canopies in the fields are for) that has been a central crop in the Connecticut River Valley for over a century. Connecticut History has a great piece up about the history of Connecticut tobacco culture, and the labor sources (young southern black students, among them a young Martin Luther King, Jr.) that supported it during the twentieth century.
The intertwined stories of race, class, and farm labor in America continue to be both incredibly significant and the great invisible aspect of current movements around farms, food, and agriculture. From the days of Carey McWilliams, Dorothea Lange, and John Steinbeck, to the era of Harvest of Shame (which you may now watch in its entirety here), to the United Farm Workers and the lettuce and grape boycotts of the ’60s and ’70s, and the Coalition of Immokalee Workers, social commentators, labor advocates, concerned consumers, and workers themselves have repeatedly attempted to draw Americans’ attention to the plight of those who tend, fertilize, cultivate, pick, and process our foodstuffs here at home. But, despite these efforts, Americans on the consuming end have generally failed to latch on to farm labor issues as a lasting cause and concern, even while they have become more conscious of the health problems associated with certain types of industrial agriculture and our modern food system.
Part of this is related, I think, to how, at least in the last few decades, movements around food have been consumption-side rather than production-side: they have focused on the ways in which the American food system is contributing to the ill health of those eating processed foods. The most well known of these critiques today is the one Michael Pollan lays out in The Omnivore’s Dilemma and In Defense of Food. (To be fair, Pollan has acknowledged criticism for his focus on the consumer, and replies that he does talk about labor issues more in his shorter pieces for such publications as the New York Times Magazine. You can see him respond to historians about these and other issues at the recent AHA meeting here.) There’s been some great historical work lately on health, environment, and labor in the food industry — Linda Nash’s Inescapable Ecologies springs most immediately to mind — but I would guess that the average Whole-Foods shopper is not thinking about the labor that produced his or her purchases as much as he or she is about what is most healthy or safe for his or her family. Indeed, as an NPR interview this morning reminded me, Whole Foods CEO John Mackey is staunchly anti-union, and has a new book out about what he calls “conscious capitalism” — a great reminder of the diverse set of ideologies and beliefs that intersect and find common ground in today’s food movement (and, as my friend and colleague Andrew Case will remind me, that have long latched on to food and health concerns, J.I. Rodale being just one example).
What is perhaps most interesting to me about the article on Connecticut shade-grown tobacco labor is the way it sheds light on how enduring ideas in this country have been about the suitability of certain people and certain bodies to particular kinds of farm labor and the tending of specific crops: the notion that black students from the South, for example, were perfect for harvesting Connecticut tobacco. These ideas have a long history that goes back to the colonial period, when European settlers were uncertain whether their own bodies could survive in the environment of the New World, and believed that a process of “seasoning” European bodies to these new conditions was required before they could thrive. Like plants and other organisms, humans needed an adjustment period when being transplanted from their natural environment to another, foreign one. (Some good books that deal with this process are Joyce Chaplin’s Subject Matter and Conevery Bolton Valencius’s The Health of the Country.)
A corollary to these notions of bodily adjustment, seasoning, and environment was the idea that other bodies — most notably those of Native Americans and Africans — were better suited to the climates and conditions of the American continent. These peoples also possessed knowledge that Europeans required in order to thrive not just physically but economically as well: knowledge about plants, animals, the cultivation of particular crops chief among them. Southern rice culture was successful largely because of the knowledge of African slaves — and, of course, their labor. What is perhaps most striking about the development of agriculture in what would eventually become the United States is how utterly dependent its earliest practitioners were upon the knowledge and labor of subjugated peoples. The appropriation, or at least the control, of that knowledge went hand in hand with the control of those bodies. (A work that deals with these connections among labor, power, race, and knowledge is Andrew Zimmerman’s excellent Alabama in Africa.)
The legacy of slavery is the much more well known dimension of these enduring associations between peoples and plants. Many plantation owners believed that blacks were constitutionally suited to the field labor involved in cotton cultivation, tobacco culture, and rice harvesting. These beliefs were not confined to the South: ideas about who should cultivate what crops, and, perhaps more importantly, who should be able to own land, were everywhere in evidence. California’s exclusion acts barred Chinese and Japanese immigrants from owning land, and this legislated discrimination continued into the 20th century. The South was, of course, riddled with continued discrimination upheld by statute and enforced through both economic subjugation and threat of bodily harm. Tenancy was a huge problem there; the exploson of migrant labor in the 1920s and ’30s, as agricultural depression hit the nation in the wake of World War I, became a national concern, and prompted the exposes of the FSA photographers like Lange, and the books of Upton Sinclair, Carey McWilliams, and John Steinbeck. While the groups of people who do the labor have shifted in the intervening decades, the problems, to a frightening degree, remain the same.
The connections between knowledge and labor here are of particular interest to me. In my own research on 4-H, I’ve encountered such amazing documents as extension reports from Montana that discuss how counties are utilizing the labor of Japanese and German POWs to bring in the sugar beet crop: the Germans were of particular use to beet growers, as Germany had pioneered sugar-beet cultivation and processing, and many of them were familiar with the crop and the methods required to harvest it properly. County agents remark upon how useful this knowledge is to them. The labor and the knowledge are never far apart.
I think it’s important to remember these intertwined stories of race and labor when we think about our food system today — for, as Pollan admits in his comments at the AHA, when you pull on one thread of the problem, you find that you’ve ended up grabbing a whole snarling mess. Food and eating are connected to growing and farming which are connected to the environment and the health of everyone, not just consumers; human and environmental health are connected to labor conditions; these, in turn are connected to how we organize space and the geographies of inequality in our nation, which are the result of historical processes that have to do with land tenure, property law, and the legacies of racism and oppression. As we approach the Martin Luther King, Jr. Day weekend, let us be conscious of the ways in which justice may be enacted in our country, and how connected our actions are, not just as individuals, but as groups and communities, to the lives of all our fellow citizens.
A couple of evenings ago the roomie and I stumbled across one of those rare treats that makes you believe that the internet is indeed a wonderful place: a production of the University of Nottingham called The Periodic Table of Videos. Fans of Walter Lewin helping you with your 8.01 problem set on MITV will love the man who anchors most of these videos: the crazy-haired and bespectacled Martyn Poliakoff. Most of the videos are just a couple of minutes, but it is easy to get sucked in! I think we watched half a dozen last night.
Man, I miss blowing up hydrogen balloons.
I am continually amused by the search queries that direct people to this blog. MIT folk will be amused to know that the top searches bringing people here over the past several months are “mit november rule” and “mit ‘november rule'”, in that order. (Also, much lower down, we find “mit+november+rule”, “mit november rules”, and “freshmen ‘november rule'”. Great.) This is apparently my most popular search by far. Nice to know that people are still curious about that, I guess… But also gross.
(A quick search for the first of these similar strings tells me that, at present, I am the 8th hit. And now, presumably, the hits for this query will be even higher.)
When people are not being directed to a very old post for reasons which I do not care to dwell on for long, they are searching for pretty random stuff to get here. The most recent query to catch my attention — which prompted me to finally write up this post, having contemplated it for a while because of the november rule stuff, but not wanting to up my rankings (so much for that) — was “kludgetastic” (for which I am the fourth hit), but there are some other gems that have made me chuckle over the weeks and months. These include ”‘that is why they sent me, i am expert..'”, “is today low tide or high tide”, “lobster stuffed with tacos” and “excellent, sir. lobster stuffed with tacos”, “laanabolica”, and, of course, “lake of the coheeries” and “lake of coheeries”.
But people are not just being misled to my blog. There are some legit queries, too, ones that I can actually deliver on: “maude lebowski robe”, “agricultural historiography”, things relating to canawick bricks, “sweet brandy”, “tornado steakhouse madison”, “raymond williams keywords”, a number of searches relating to lobster bisque, the Ithaca Farmers Market, and Peaks Island, and, of course, variants of AmShazam, Amrys, and “amrys wedding maine”. The curse of being distinctly googleable!
If a travel guide is on your wish list this holiday season, point your Santa to Cambridge’s own Globe Corner Bookstore, which is currently offering 20% off all major guidebook series, as well as 15% off orders of two or more non-sale items. One more good reason to support an independent bookstore with great service, knowledgeable staff, and a fantastic collection.
Anand is in town this week, and I was fortunate enough to be able to go over to Liz’s place tonight to enjoy the fruits of some of Anand’s cooking along with Liz and her housemates. What a treat! The menu included fresh figs with feta, some wonderful Indian chicken dish whose mane now escapes me, brown rice, and some delectably spicy green beans with coconut and black mustard seeds. To top it all off, we had Manhattans, pumpkin muffins, and dark chocolate.
Of course, over drinks Anand and I stumbled across a copy of SICP, which for some reason was nestled between plays and performance theory texts on Liz’s shelf. We flipped through and had a good laugh about the adventures of Alyssa P. Hacker, Ben Bitdiddle, and that shady character Louis Reasoner. We were also able to remember what the cadr actually refers to (there was some uncertainty at first as to whether it was the car of the cdr or the cdr of the car), and experienced a weird sort of delight looking at box-and-pointer and environment diagrams. Remember the double bubble? Yes, the double bubble.
Which is all very funny, because in today’s film class we ended up on the subject of silly jokes, and I was talking about “-er” jokes, which, to my surprise, no one was familiar with. So I tried to explain, but for some reason I couldn’t remember my favorite “-er” joke phrase, and ended up only being able to think of two examples: poker; and metasyntactical evaluator. This latter one was a little difficult to explain, for obvious reasons.
Fortunately, my footage went over better than my jokes.
The other nerdy happening of the evening was the wasting of about twenty minutes here. I guess that would be the other end of the linguistic spectrum…
Thanks to Megan Raby, I now know about this film series at the UW Cinematheque. It’s like the HFA of Madison! Except here, I know the curator.
Speaking of films, mark your calendars for the first weekend in November, when the UW’s new Center for Culture, History, and Environment — affectionately (revolutionarily?) known as “CHE” — will be putting on Tales from Planet Earth, a festival of environmental film. Its gonna be awesome. I even did the web site.
…that it’s been one hell of a long time since the Bros. Chaps have made any updates. In fact, it’s been nigh on a month now. Updated somedays? No kidding.