the ecology of justice

I was reading this morning in John Chryssavgis's Beyond the Shattered Image about the concept of eco-justice, which Chryssavgis defines as the concept that "all ecological activities...are ultimately measured and judged by their effect on the poor" (6). He goes on to explore Wendell Berry's assertion that "there is an uncanny resemblance between our behavior toward each other and our behavior toward the earth" (49). Such a reflection puts the importance of Christian environmentalism in a whole new light. Environmentalism isn't just about being good stewards, as though the earth were here only for our use. We may be the image of God, but we are still only a small part of the great picture of creation. Our relationship to the earth, like our relationships to each other, is just another step in the dance. But it's a step that reveals a great deal about us and our motivations. Often, this step of our relationship to the earth is the step on which the dance flies or stumbles.

And in light of this relationship between our concern for the earth and our concern for the poor, I found this article particularly interesting. In it Sharon Astyk questions the success of the green revolution, especially in regard to overall food production. The green revolution refers to the agricultural shift in the 1940s and 1960s from small, biodiverse farms to industrial, monoculture farms. It is commonly viewed as having enabled a huge increase in worldwide food production, due mainly to increased technology and heavy reliance on petrochemical fertilizers. But Astyk questions that statistic. She points out that the increase in grain yields was offset by an unmeasured decrease in more diverse crops, many of which were previously grown in home gardens or small farms and were not included in production numbers.

There are (as the energy bulletin editor points out at the bottom of the article) some holes in Astyk's argument, especially since she doesn't have any hard numbers to back up her claim. But I think the question deserves closer consideration. It may not be possible to statistically analyze the real profit and loss in terms of calories and production caused by the green revolution. But there's plenty of evidence that overall nutrition and diversity in diets, especially among the poor, were seriously harmed. The chemicals that enabled an increase in wheat or rice production often destroy the worms and other organisms that enrich the soil; land that is dedicated to monoculture is taken away from other crops that would provide a more nutritious and balanced diet. The result, as Vandana Shiva writes, is that "global markets record more commodities for trading because food has been stolen from nature and the poor."

Which reminded me of a story I heard recently from a speaker named Chris, who works with an organization that provides community development services in the poorest areas of the world. Chris described an event that occured while he was in Venezuela working with street children. They were playing soccer in a field when he saw one of the street kids he knew--a boy named Juan--running toward them, full speed as though his life depended on it. Chris waved at Juan, expecting him to come and join them, but Juan didn't even pause. He kept running right past them, and then he disappeared into the crowded street on the other side of the park.

Chris only had a minute to wonder what was going on, because almost immediately he saw another person--a young man, probably a college student--who was running full tilt after Juan. It was only then that Chris realized there'd been something unusual about Juan: he was wearing the ragged clothes that were all he owned, but he'd been carrying a new leather jacket.

Of course the situation was obvious: Juan had stolen the coat. As a Christian service worker, Chris had one easy response to the situation, and so he began to pray. But as soon as he tried, he realized that he didn't know how to pray, or what to pray for. Should he pray that Juan would be caught, perhaps sent to jail? That he would return the coat? Or should he pray that Juan would escape? Chris knew the back alley where Juan slept. He knew how cold the streets could get at night. He could understand why Juan would want to steal a coat. And yet he believed that stealing was wrong, and that it wouldn't ultimately help Juan succeed in life. And so he didn't know how to pray.

But in that moment, a thought came into his head, and it was as though God were speaking to him. But the words didn't make sense. What he heard was this: "What you've just seen was not a thief."

But clearly a theft was committed, so how could Juan not be a thief?

"What you've just seen was two thieves." Chris was still confused, but the message went on. "Juan stole a coat. But the coat was stolen to begin with. Didn't I tell you that if you had a second coat, you should give it to the one who has none? All those extra clothes in your closet--they are stolen from the poor. Juan shouldn't need to steal them; they should have already been given to him."

Which, of course, brings me guiltily back to my closet full of clothes, but it also bring me back to the global food market, and to the midwestern storehouses overflowing with corn. It's easy to dismiss the admonition to "eat your vegetables, because people are starving in Africa" with the flippant reply, "then let's send them my spinach." Because, of course, you can't send the uneaten spinach off your plate anywhere, not even the local homeless shelter. But then again, maybe you can.

It's difficult to physically send food to needy areas, and it's only a temporary solution anyway--as is pointed out in the old adage about teaching a man to fish. But it's becoming less and less difficult to take steps that counteract the movement toward the industrialization of agriculture. In the global economy, everything is market-driven: if there is a market for something, then it will thrive, and if the market disappears, then it will eventually die. Maybe you can't teach sustainable agriculture to farmers in the third world, but at least you can help remove some of the motivation behind a market that enables American farmers to export corn to Mexico at a price that undercuts Mexican farmers (pushing them, incidentally, to grow more commercially viable crops, such as cocaine). You can't always change the world, but you can change your neighborhood. As Ghandi said, you can "be the change you wish to see in the world," by ending your own dependence on a monocultural system that effectively steals from the neediest to give surplus to the richest.

For me, it's a dance that moves forward one step at a time. I'm now entering my second season as a member of a community garden. I didn't grow much I could eat in the past season, but it was winter, and I'm still learning. I've just committed to joining a community supported agriculture group, which means I'll get a basket of fresh produce from a local farm every week starting in April. And I'll be planting a second garden when I move to my new apartment in a month. I'm working, slowly but surely, to wean myself off the system that supports industrial farms, onto a system that supports local, biodiverse farmers. And hey, with two gardens and a CSA, maybe I'll even have some extra produce this summer--something I can donate to a local soup kitchen.