The other GFC, the global food crisis, has brought a renewed public and academic attention to questions of what we eat, where it comes from, how much it costs, and whether it is sustainable. Diseases of over-eating mingle with starvation and, although globally disconnected, are often caused by malnutrition: the gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples' health still comes down to colonial staples of white flour, white sugar, and white power (to coin the title of Tim Rowse's 1998 book). (1) Coinciding, in ways that are more than coincidental, with a growing awareness and at times panic about global warming and climate change, people are becoming attuned to how what we always deemed as edible (corn, soya) are being turned into non-edible things like bio-fuels. And as one of the most virulent forms of globalisation, there is a seemingly endless circulation of food scares about things we had thought were edible--chickens that carry flu, cows that turn mad, eggs that are bad. Studying food has never been so crucial, or so complex. Over the last several years, I have been working to bring together my previous research in feminist cultural studies--with a particular focus on subjectivities, practices and the materiality of culture--to bear on questions of food. What I am calling alimentary cultural studies of necessity studies the whole gamut of factors and feeling associated with the production and consumption of food. It must consider the places where food is produced, where it is eaten, how natural entities are transformed into commodities within a context of globalisation and local communities. In addition, questions of uneven distribution and inequalities are never far from the surface. As a project (2) it roams widely over different disciplines and areas of study: to name a few, I take from rural sociology, history, social anthropology, human and non-human geography -or what is called more-than-human geography--ethology, economics, and community development. Moving the study of food beyond the cultural makes intuitive sense, and is supported by a wealth of research; it also makes sense to put the cultural squarely back into agri-culture. As John Law and Annemarie Mol so beautifully put it, animals and humans have a long history of being coupled within what they call 'metabolic intimacy'. (3) Their analysis of the outbreak of pig foot and mouth disease in the UK in 2001 centres on what happened when the dictates of boiling pigswill were recklessly ignored. Pigs have long lived in close proximity with people--a fact rendered spectacular by porcine xeno-transplants. More prosaically the cottage pig was a common feature of many households where the pig would eat (what humans deemed) were the inedible remains of dinner. (4) Commonsense dictated that these remains were boiled before being fed to the pig, hence the term 'pigswill'. However greed and haste resulted in the case that they study, when a pig farm neglected to boil the industrial quantities of catering waste, and the pigs developed foot and mouth. The waste must have contained contaminated animal flesh, most likely cheap meat from countries in the South where foot and mouth is endemic. With the banning of feeding pigs with boiled swill, the industry turned to feeding them animal meal--made of corn and soya. So more waste of human meals is added to the overflowing landfills, and vast tracts of land pump out food that won't be fed to humans anywhere, let alone to those that produce it. The global state of eating gets ever more complicated--and sad. (5) Arguments such as Mol and Law's join a growing literature that attempts to cross many boundaries: the edible and non-edible, the North and the South, the industrial, the ethical, the structural, the governmental, the personal and the practical. As Emma Roe puts it: 'how do things become food? How do things become edible?' (6) Food, things that become edible or inedible, casts anew debates about the local and the global, and foreground 'disjuncture and difference in the global agricultural economy', and flag that 'one man's imagined food is another man's political poison' (to paraphrase Appadurai's 1990 influential argument on the imaginary within globalisation). …
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