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Transcript of transitionnetwork.org€¦ · Web viewWord Count: 11,613. This dissertation is submitted as part...
An Alternative Approach to Food Justice: A Gendered
Analysis of Transition Towns in the UK
By Kirsti Susanna Barrineau
2011
Word Count: 11,613
This dissertation is submitted as part of a MA/MSc degree in Environment, Politics and
Globalisation at King’s College London.
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KING’S COLLEGE LONDONUNIVERSITY OF LONDON
DEPARTMENT OF GEOGRAPHY
MA/MSc DISSERTATION
I, ........................................................................ hereby declare (a) that this Dissertation is my
own original work and that all source material used is acknowledged therein; (b) that it has been
specially prepared for a degree of the University of London; and (c) that it does not contain any
material that has been or will be submitted to the Examiners of this or any other university, or
any material that has been or will be submitted for any other examination.
This Dissertation is ..........................................words.
Signed: ...................................................................
Date: ......................................................................
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Contents
Acknowledgements………………………………………………………………………………………………4
Abstract……………………………………………………………………………………………………………….5
1. Introduction: Transition Towns and Gendered Food Practices……………………………5
2. Literature Review……………………………………………………………………………………………..8
2.1 Gendered Food Practices………………………………………………………………………8
2.2 The Female ‘Moral Voice’ and an Ethic of Care...………………………………….…..9
2.3 Food Justice…………………………………………………………………………………………12
2.4 The Transition Movement……………………………………………………………………14
3. Methodology……………………………………………………………………………………………………16
3.1 Methods……………………………………………………………………………………………...17
3.2 Interviews…………………………………………………………………………………………..17
3.3 Participant Observation………………………………………………………………………18
3.4 Discourse Analysis………………………………………………………………………………19
3.5 Access…………………………………………………………………………………………………19
3.6 Ethics………………………………………………………………………………………………….19
3.7 Power Relations………………………………………………………………………………….20
4. Analysis and Discussion……………………………………………………………………………………20
4.1 Moving Beyond Gender Myths……………..………………………………………………..20
4.2 The Woman/Nature Connection..………………………………………………………….25
4.3 Creating Empowering Spaces………………………………………………………….……26
4.4 Creating New ‘Visceral Imaginaries’……………………………………………….…….28
4.5 Food Projects as Practical and Accessible Sites of Care………………………….31
5. Conclusion: What Does Transition Mean for Food Justice?…………………………………..34
Appendices
a. Appendix 1: Ethical Approval……………………………………………………………36
b. Appendix 2: Locations and Interviewees……………………………………………37
References…………………………………………………………………………………………………………….38
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Acknowledgements
First, I would like to extend a special thanks to Kate Maclean for her encouragement and
support throughout the research process. I would further like to thank all Transition
participants for sharing their food, gardens, and thoughts with me. A final thank you goes
out to my course mates who helped me sort through my ideas.
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An Alternative Approach to Food Justice: A Gendered
Analysis of Transition Towns in the UK
The Transition movement is an initiative that aims to develop resilient communities in the
face of the twin challenges of peak oil and climate change. Local food growth is at the heart of
the movement. Using an ethic of care framework, I find that Transition food groups create
alternative spaces for a more relational food praxis that complicates ‘geographical binaries’
and revalues the largely feminine role of care labour. I further observe the potential of
Transition food initiatives to break down gender barriers within these new spaces for care,
creating the foundations for a socially just food system.
Introduction: Transition Towns and Gendered Food Practices
The relatively young Transition movement aims ‘[t]o support community-led
responses to peak oil and climate change, building resilience and happiness’ (Hopkins and
Lipman 2009:7). Central to this movement is developing local resilience based on ‘practical,
positive solutions’ (Haxeltine and Seyfang 2009:6) which are founded upon the concept of
permaculture, ‘a design system for the creation of sustainable human settlements’
(Hopkins 2008:136). Founded in 2006 by Rob Hopkins, there are currently 453 official
Transition Initiatives and 377 ‘muller’ initiatives in 34 countries around the world,
attracting mostly ‘post-materialist’ members ‘who eschew high-status jobs and
consumption in favour of personal fulfilment and (in particular environmental) activism’
(Seyfang and Haxeltine 2010:8). While each initiative is unique to its locality, common
themes exist across the movement, such as food growth, local currencies, and eco-housing
to name a few (Haxeltine and Seyfang 2009). These form the basis for a variety of groups
such as the Heart and Soul, Energy, and Art groups. In fact, ‘each initiative is encouraged to
identify issues most relevant to that community,’ for example, developing a waste initiative
in response to local landfill problems (Bailey et al. 2010:600). Seyfang and Haxeltine
(2010:5) maintain that the grassroots nature and mantra of the movement creates a ‘niche’
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that challenges the ‘dominant socio-technical regime.’ Thus far, analysis of the movement
is relatively limited.
Seyfang (2009:13) notes that ‘food and gardening projects are far and away the
most popular practical ways for Transition initiatives to start engaging people in hands-on
action.’ Food projects also tend to be the starting point for most initiatives and include
activities such as ‘fruit and nut tree-planting schemes, garden-share projects encouraging
gardeners to use land more productively…seed and plant swapping, and allotment
associations,’ though these tend to be somewhat less radical than the broader ambitions of
Transition (Bailey et al. 2010:601).
Many authors have already pointed out the significance of sustainable food systems
in reaction to the disempowering and environmentally destructive global food system.
Within the alternative food movement, however, Allen (2010:296) highlights the lack of
scrutiny of social justice issues, something which Guthman (2008 as cited by Allen 2010)
notes is absent in the organics movement and to which she credits the prominence of local
food in food politics. Allen employs a definition of food justice ‘in which power and material
resources are shared equitably so that people and communities can meet their needs, and
live with security and dignity, now and into the future’ (Activist Researcher Consortium
2004 as cited by Allen 2010:297). The UK Food Ethics Council further declares that only a
socially just food system can address the challenges of producing food sustainably
(2010:9). Alongside, and related to, social justice issues, is the markedly insufficient
scrutiny of the gendered nature of the global food system (Little et al. 2009). Little et al.
(2009:215) demonstrate that ‘gender identities are fundamental to the choices we make
around food’ by connecting ideas on gender identity, the body and choices around food
consumption and health. Moreover, Allen and Sachs (2007:1) establish the disadvantaged
position of women within the food system and, crucially, label food provision as ‘the most
basic labor of care.’ As such, I approach the interlinked topics of food justice and gender in
the Transition movement from the framework of an ethic of care.
Lawson (2009:210) synthesises the basis of a feminist ethic of care:
Feminist care ethics assert the absolute centrality of care to our human lives: we are
all in need of care and of emotional connection to others. We all receive care, and
throughout our lives, many of us will also give care. In short, care is society’s work in
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the sense that care is absolutely central to our individual and collective survival.
Scholarship on care ethics has focused on the debates surrounding the dismissal of care as
an activity confined to the private sphere and the subsequent marginalisation of care
labour. Morgan (2010:22) reminds us of Tronto’s powerful argument that “the disdain of
'others' who do caring (women, slaves, servants) has been virulent in our culture” and that
“[t]his dismissal is inextricably bound up with an attempt to deny the importance of care”
(Tronto 1994:174). Furthermore, Lawson (2009:210) points out the deeply political nature
of this dismissal, contending that ‘it bolsters relations of gender/race/ethnic inequality and
restricts human flourishing.’ ‘Marginalizing care,’ she argues, ‘furthers the myth that our
successes are achieved as autonomous individuals, and as such, we have no responsibility
to share the fruits of our success with others or to dedicate public resources to the work of
care’ (Lawson 2009:210). Recent research on food, however, sheds light on the turn that
practicing care has taken. In her research on alternative food systems, Cox (2010:128)
notices that ‘care is situated in broad frameworks of environmental and community
concern which reveal its importance in structuring relationships beyond the immediate
family and also offer opportunities for connection and fulfillment.’ By offering us a way to
escape the hierarchical capitalist food system, alternative food networks may thus be seen
as new spaces for care and a glimpse of what an economy organised around care may look
like (Cox 2010). A focus on care understood as a practice ‘forces us to think about real
needs and to consider how these needs should be met’ (Cox 2010:116).
My goal is to provide insight into Transition food initiatives using an ethic of care
framework. I use data collected from interviews and participant observation undertaken
with different food groups in London, as well as discourse analysis of materials on the web
and Transition publications. I propose that using care as a lens to analyse food initiatives
sheds light on social justice issues as well as the gendered nature of these schemes. My aim
is not to make claims about the Transition movement as a whole, as initiatives are highly
localized, but to paint a picture of the possibilities for a transgressive alternative food
movement from the perspectives of care and gender. Food production is a useful way to
view the Transition movement’s ethical culture because food ‘is the ultimate index of our
capacity to care for ourselves and for others, be they our 'nearest and dearest' or 'distant
strangers’’ (Morgan 2010:2).
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This study will proceed in the following manner: First, I will introduce the
background for this study by elaborating on the gendered nature of food systems, an ethic
of care, food justice, and previous research on the Transition movement. Next, I expound
upon the methodology of my study. I follow up with the analysis and discussion of the
Transition participants I spoke to, tying it back to preceding literature. I conclude by
linking the study back to food justice.
2.0 Literature Review
2.1 Gendered Food Practices
Recent work in food studies recognizes that food practices are gendered (Avakian
and Haber 2005) yet a number of authors (Lockie and Kitto 2000; Allen and Sachs 2007,
Little et al. 2009) have acknowledged that gender is a crucial, but overlooked aspect within
local food networks. Established material and cultural practices configure the contexts of
local food networks (Allen 2010:296), and are also central in defining gender identity
(Counihan 1998). The realm of food is largely considered women’s territory due to the
cultural myths that have fused women to the role of nurturer and caregiver. Allen and
Sachs (2007:1) maintain that, ‘in most societies women continue to carry the responsibility
for the mental and manual labor of food provision—the most basic labor of care.’ Still, this
association of women with food, feeding others, and cooking represents a cultural
construction, ‘not a ‘natural’ division of labour’ (Van Esterik 1999:160). These food
practices are thus ‘more than material or physiological processes…they are ways in which
people socially create and construct boundaries’ (Julier 2005:164).
With a focus on agrifood systems, Allen and Sachs (2007:1-2) call for critical
analysis of ‘the connections between women's food work in the labor market (material),
their responsibility for food-related work in the home (socio-cultural), and their
relationship with eating (corporeal),’ where they have established that women remain
disadvantaged. Women also typically take the lead in urban agricultural projects in low-
income, diverse communities, as well as community-supported agriculture projects and
broader efforts to bring sustainability and social justice back into food networks. Yet these
movements are not necessarily consciously feminist ‘in the sense of resisting the
oppressive nature of gender relations’ (Allen and Sachs 2007:14). However, as women
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work to reshape food networks, they build opportunities ‘for women to gain control of
their bodies and their lives’ (Allen and Sachs 2007:15). Little et al. (2009) have further
noted the gendered nature of local food consumption which, when placed in the context of
meal preparation, becomes particularly evident.
Given the above, Van Esterik (1999:160) calls for ‘an examination of women’s power
in relation to the food system,’ establishing several reasons for adopting a mindset
changing ‘feminist food praxis.’ Furthermore, ‘[c]ooking, feeding others, and eating are
body-based acts that create relationships between people’ which warrants scrutiny of the
cultural constructions of the body (Van Esterik 1999:160-161). One of the focuses of this
research is thus to determine the gendered nature of Transition food groups, if indeed it
exists, by adopting feminist food praxis as a tool for analysis. Discovering if women’s
reasons for participation in a local food movement stem more from local concerns, such as
meal preparation or community, or in the greater global political economy is therefore an
aim of this project. I also examine what challenges and opportunities food groups present
to its participants and to what extent Transition food groups provide a platform to
challenge gender norms.
2.2 The Female ‘Moral Voice’ and an Ethic of Care
Carol Gilligan (1982) identified the values that are normally associated with women
as the female moral voice, in which there is ‘something inherent in women that associates
them with moral sentiments rather than with reason, with the particular rather than the
universal’ (Tronto 1993:25). In other words, ‘women have different ethical voice to that
institutionalized in conventional justice’ (Whatmore 2002:155). Friedman, however,
extends these assumptions, stating that
Gilligan has discerned the symbolically female moral voice from the symbolically
male moral voice. The moralization of gender is more a matter of how we think we
reason than of how we actually reason, more a matter of moral concerns we
attribute to women and men than of true statistical differences between men’s and
women’s moral reasoning…thus both women and men in our culture expect women
and men to exhibit this moral dichotomy (Friedman 1987:262).
Yet these characteristics of so-called women’s morality—the values of care and nurturing
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and the privileging of human relationships—are ‘traditionally excluded from public
consideration’ (Tronto 1993:3; see also Robinson 2006, Cox 2010). These values are
therefore relegated to the private sphere, deemed incompatible with the world of justice
and politics (Robinson 2006). Tronto (1993:3) thus argues that in order to escape from
‘women’s morality,’ we need to ‘start talking instead about a care ethic that includes the
values traditionally associated with women.’ This entails thinking about care as something
that includes everyone, not simply ‘the work that supports vulnerable others,’ so as to
redraw the ‘moral boundaries which currently preserve inequalities of power and privilege
whilst ‘‘degrading ‘others’ who currently do the caring work in our society’’ (Tronto 1993:
101 as cited by Cox 2010:115). ‘Care provides a radically different way to look at moral and
political life. Although the analysis of care began with women's work and lives, I have
argued that we make a mistake if we fail to generalize our analysis of care beyond gender’
(Tronto 1995:142). Fisher and Tronto define care as:
a species activity that includes everything that we do to maintain, continue, and repair
our ‘world’ so that we can live in it as well as possible. That world includes our bodies,
our selves and our environment, all of which we seek to interweave in a complex, life-
sustaining web (Tronto 1993:103 original emphasis).
Significantly, this definition of care goes beyond humanity to include all our ‘life-
sustaining’ networks. Through an ethic of care, the needs of others, and not necessarily
human others, are the basis for action, disrupting the presiding pattern of individualism,
competition, and environmental degradation (Mann 2002 as cited by Cox 2010:116).
According to Morgan (2010:20-21), in addition to implying that care should function
outside the private realm, this outlook on care also extends caring beyond the traditionally
local to the global. An ethic of care seeks to disassemble notions of the autonomous
individual and to create a moral ontology that is fully relational, where ‘the notion of the
self is incoherent unless it is understood as constructed and existing through a series of
complex and ever-changing networks of relations with others’ (Robinson 2006:13). As an
ethic of care ‘has the potential to transcend self interest’ (Conradson 2011:454), care is of
particular importance as a potentially transformative ethic and an approach to ‘foster new
ways of being together’ (466; see also Lawson 2007, 2009). Indeed, Cox (2010:119)
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suggests that it is possible to organize economic activity based on an ethic of care and that
this is already happening in some food networks.
Gendered divisions of caring labour persist (Conradson 2011:466) owing to the
highly individualistic ideology that disregards our ‘profound interdependence on other
humans and the non-human world’ and which marginalises caring (Cox 2010:127). The
‘most caring’ food movements (Cox 2010:128) combat these patterns of unsustainable
behaviour by embracing the values associated with a critical feminist ethic of care,
specifically that ‘all persons need care and are, in principle capable of care giving’ and
‘caring takes place in specific personal and social contexts with particular others’
(Robinson 2006:15). Robinson proposes that this is integral to the belief system of a
democratic society because not only does it challenge the gender imbalance that endures in
care labour (2006:15), it may further lead to greater social justice because it ‘opens up new
ways of seeing human beings’ (Hankivsky 2004 as cited by Robinson 2006:8). Reimaging
this feminist political ethic of care as such, 'requires that we think about care in its broadest
possible public framework,’ extending care to proximate and distant others, and
demanding a commitment to democratic processes according to Morgan (2010:21), where
care is the ‘key to social accountability and responsible citizenship’ (McEwan and Goodman
2010:104).
In Hybrid Geographies (2002), Whatmore voices her reservations with the ‘humanist
presumptions’ of feminist and environmental conceptions of care ethics (147). She
specifically addresses the spatial conditions that ‘feminist and environmental care ethics
have tended in practice to map…simplistically on to the geographical binaries of
distance/proximity, global/local, outside/inside’ (158), and argues for a relational ethical
praxis that grasps the ‘fleshy currency…of being-in-relation with and through
heterogeneous others’ (159). Maintaining that ‘corporeality and hybridity [are] the key
modalities’ for this reconfiguration of ethics away from the autonomous individual (165),
Whatmore uses the ‘inter-corporeal practices’ surrounding the ‘growing, provisioning,
cooking and eating’ of food to illustrate her point (162). In recognising the intimacy with
which food practices entangle human lives with the lives of numerous others (163),
Whatmore declares that ‘conventional cartographies of distance and proximity, and local
and global scales’ are confounded (162). Whatmore thus finds it necessary to release ‘the
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spatial imaginaries of ethical community from both the geo-metrics of universalism and the
confines of propinquity and genealogy’ so they may ‘disturb the territorializations of self,
kinship, neighbourhood and nation and invite other ‘languages of attachment’’ (Ignatieff
1984:139 as cited by Whatmore 2002:167).
I argue that the framework of a radically relational ethic of care is necessary in
analysing local food movements, and use this framework in my investigation of Transition’s
food relocalisation projects. I propose that by adopting Whatmore’s notion of a relational
ethic that we transcend the debate on ‘geographical binaries’ and focus instead on how
‘[e]ating scrambles neat demarcations and points to the messy interconnection of the local
and the global, the inside and the outside’ and how ‘food compels us to think about…the
social as a surface composed of relations of proximity (Probyn 1998:161 as cited by
Whatmore 2002:120).
2.3 Food Justice
‘Theoretically, the food justice frame opens up linkages to a wider range of
conceptual frameworks drawn from the literature on democracy, citizenship, social
movements, and social and environmental justice’ (Wekerle 2004:379). Sustainable food
literature has established major themes through the analysis of food systems, namely that
‘the organization of food networks according to principles of capitalist accumulation’
(Kneafsey 2010:185) and the focus on people as consumers rather than citizens (Levkoe
2006:89) has led to the antidemocratic, unjust, and environmentally destructive
development of the global food system. Identifying people as consumers and, consequently
with the market, implies a relationship ‘in which profit becomes the most important factor
in economic, political, and social activity’ (Levkoe 2006:89). According to Allen (2010:300),
‘While individual choices based on an ethic of care for others (see Tronto, 1993) can
certainly be part of working toward justice, a concatenation of individual choices to
improve social equity does not address the basic political economic structures, resource
allocations and cultural conditions that have created inequity in the first place.’ In
exploring food justice, ergo food democracy, as a characteristic of an ethic of care, I expand
on local food movement literature through an investigation of Transition food
(re)localisation movements.
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As it stands, scholars have started exploring ‘local’ food movements as points of
resistance against the ‘democratic deficit’ imposed by the neoliberal food system (Kneafsey
2010:185). Hadjimichalis and Hudson (2007:100 as cited by Kneafsey 2010:185) ‘argue
that local development projects, rooted in place, can provide spaces in which people can be
the co-producers of progressive, ‘even radical transformations of their local and regional
cultural, economic and social worlds.’’ Local spaces further provide the best conditions for
the participation of the citizenry (‘in the broad denizen sense of the word’), which is
necessary for developing socially just food networks at local and global levels (Hassanein
2003:79). Hassanein (2003) advances the concept of food democracy as a ‘pragmatic’
approach to food sustainability, at the heart of which is active ‘participation in shaping the
food system’ (79). It thus ‘challenge[s] the anti-democratic forces of control’ by
‘contest[ing] the commodification of food’ (Hassanein 2003:83) in order to transform
‘people from passive consumers into active, educated citizens’ (Hassanein 2003:80).
Participatory democracy is necessary for social equity in a food system (Allen 2010).
Anderson (2008 as cited in Allen 2010) emphasises the correlation between the geographic
scale and the efficacy of a system. In short, he puts forth the idea that when the food system
is regional, interaction and interrelation between a subject and the food systems
strengthens their commitment to the cause. However, as Allen (2010:301) points out, the
notion of community action in favor of the common good through local food movements is
a ‘beautiful vision,’ yet we must remember the ‘wide demographic ranges and social
relationships of power and privilege embedded within the place itself. At both global and
local scales, those who benefit—and those who do not—are arranged along already
familiar lines of class, ethnicity and gender.’
Still, local food networks play a key role in the creation of new spaces that facilitate
social change (Allen and Kovach 2000 as cited by Allen 2010:305) by disturbing ‘traditional
practices, routines, habits, thought or reflection’ and enabling ‘possibilities for social
change through ‘enacted conduct’’ (Giddens 1987 as cited in Allen 2010:305). Precisely this
creation of spaces to explore different social structures and reflect upon alternative ways of
living is what Allen (2010) asserts is the great potential value of localised food systems.
‘Thus, some commentators point to the emergence of ‘alternative’ food networks such as
CSAs, local delivery schemes and farmers’ markets as consumer and producer expressions
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of an ‘ethic of care’ for the people, communities, soils, animals and ecosystems involved in
food production’ (Kneafsey 2010:185). Local food movements arguably possess favourable
conditions for food democracies (Allen 2010) and as such, I analyse the localisation efforts
of Transition food groups from the perspective of food justice movements. Analysing the
Transition movement through a feminist ethic of care framework allows us to see the
extent to which Transition is incorporating a care ethic and valuing care labour. By also
using the lens of food justice literature, we can hone in closer to scrutinize the scale of
democratic activity and extent to which gender divisions are embedded in their food
networks, which arguably are the spaces for the ‘most basic labour of care.’
2.4 The Transition Movement
Studies on the Transition movement are beginning to burgeon, yet there has been
little mention of gender and food groups specifically. I will therefore briefly mention a few
relevant studies that speak to the characteristics of Transition and offer their constructive
criticism. As Bailey et al. (2010:600) advise: ‘The Transition Network is still an embryonic
movement and it would be unfair to judge its record or prospects at the present time.’
Transition Culture is compelling for a number of reasons. First, it forgoes an individual
behaviour change approach for a systems-based one that seeks to establish alternative
social institutions and social norms (Haxeltine and Seyfang 2009). Mason and Whitehead
(2011:4) further ‘contend that the originality of Transition Culture is not to be found in the
newness of any of its associated ideas, but in the novel ways it weaves together
interconnected strands from a range of philosophical traditions and alternative knowledge
networks.’ In fact, it is more of a ‘convergence space’ for current interests and practices
(Mason and Whitehead 2011:6). Seyfang and Haxeltine (2009, 2010) approach the
movement through of framework of transition literature to analyse how grassroots
movements may grow to eventually challenge the ‘dominant socio-technical regime.’
Haxeltine and Seyfang (2009:2) discuss the origins, development, and character and
activities of the Transition movement to address the ‘growing interest in socio-technical
transitions in the context of debates about how modern industrial societies can achieve a
sustainable development.’ Citing Smith et al. (2010), they remark upon the difference
between change within the regime, which is inclined to be slow and path-dependent, and
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change within ‘niches’, which incites ‘revolutionary’ change (2010:4). The Transition
movement is an example of a ‘strategic green niche’ (Seyfang and Haxeltine 2010:8). The
usefulness of these niches is found in their capacity to create spaces
for the development of new ideas and practices, for experimenting with new systems
of provision, and for enabling people to express their ‘alternative’ green and socially
progressive values, and from the tangible achievement of environmental and social
sustainability improvements, albeit on a small scale (Seyfang and Smith 2007 as cited
in Seyfang and Haxeltine 2010:5).
In recognising that the greatest impediment to action on climate change and peak oil are
cultural rather than technical (Bailey et al. 2010:598), Transition seeks to put forward new
cultural stories, which Ambrosii (2010) notes is essential to the success of the movement.
‘Transition Initiatives are based on a dedication to the creation of tangible, clearly
expressed and practical visions of the community in question beyond its present-day
dependence on fossil fuels... The generation of new stories and myths are central to this
visioning work’ (Hopkins and Lipman, 2009:7). ‘Given that the Transition movement
addresses system-transformation…it needs to encourage members to question the current
systems and frames of reference, in order to radically shift patterns of thinking and action
towards creating new systems (rather than reforming current ones)’ (Seyfang and
Haxeltine 2010:13). Transition has received some criticism, notably from Trapese, which
critiques Transition’s resolutely apolitical stance, which they argue does not address the
capitalist consumerist economies that are the root causes of climate change and peak oil.
‘So, rather than contesting or contending with the regime, the movement seems to assume
the existing regime will wither away and leave an agency vacuum, into which Transition
initiatives can move, offering a more positive future scenario than the societal collapse or
authoritarian green state that might otherwise emerge’ (Seyfang and Haxeltine 2010:9-10).
The Trapese Collective additionally notes Transition’s failure ‘to problematize either the
disempowering processes of the state or associated scales of government’ (Mason and
Whitehead 2011:13). They claim that ‘[Transition Towns] are ultimately subject to the
same order of oppression, class structure, entrenched power, and vested interests as
everything else in the UK’ (Trapese 2008:33). Seyfang and Haxeltine (2010:15) further
comment upon the ‘lack of realistic and achievable expectations both among members
15
(internally) and in relation to the wider public (externally), which hampers movement
development and growth,’ arguing that Transition’s strategy of raising public-awareness as
a prerequisite for action is relatively ineffective. My analysis expands on this literature in
addressing the reasons people participate in Transition food groups and I find that Seyfang
and Haxeltine’s assumptions do not necessarily extend to food groups.
Mason and Whitehead (2011) put forth a convincing analysis of Transition Culture’s
conception of ‘relational space.’ The Network is ‘inherently geographical in a normative and
a practical sense’ (Bailey et al. 2010:603), and as such ‘constructs a moral geography’
within which it questions the ‘obligation’ to spatial relations (Mason and Whitehead
2011:15). In other words, Transition’s ‘preferred ethical response to a distant socio-
economic relation’ is one of disconnection (Mason and Whitehead 2011:15). Employing
this ‘moral abstention at the border’s edge’ reflects Transition’s view of spatial relations in
terms of oil use and the negative impacts of international trade on the environment (Mason
and Whitehead 2011:16 & 18). My investigation into Transition extends Mason and
Whitehead’s arguments on the movement’s ethical stance.
3.0 Methodology
This study took place in London in the spring and summer of 2011 using a mixture
of qualitative research methods. Employing methodological triangulation arguably
enriches the knowledge obtained, providing multi-levels of data, and overcoming the
limited ‘epistemological potentials of the individual method’ (Flick 2009:444). Utilizing
semi-structured interviews, participant observation, and discourse analysis provides a rich,
descriptive basis for a gendered analysis. Of particular interest was the extent to which
food and gardening groups in the Transition Movement (hence forth referred to as ‘food
groups’) provide a platform to challenge gender norms and also how the food groups cater
to individual needs and motives. Recently, Gildemeister (2004:123) argued that ‘gender is a
social category, and that it is always, in some fundamental way, a question of social
relationships’ (emphasis original). Thus, following the argument that gender is a social
construct, the exploration of the role of gender within Transition food groups warrants an
approach that ‘describe[s] and understand[s] social phenomena in terms of the meaning
people bring to them’ (Hennie 2010:11). Drawing on interpretivism, this study is
16
‘concerned with understanding the social world people have produced and which they
reproduce through their continuing activities’ using ‘the meanings and interpretations
given by the social actors to their actions, other people’s actions, social situations, and
natural and humanly created objects’ as the primary data source (Blaikie 2000:115 as cited
by Mason 2002:56).
I take an approach highly attuned to the specificity of the data, and do not claim that
this data is universally applicable to all women or men (Rose 1997). By engaging in
research that appreciates the variety of meanings that people give to their experience in
Transition, I construct an analysis that is highly localized. While the nongeneralisability of
case studies is criticised for ‘lack of scientific rigour and reliability’ (Noor 2008:1603),
Transition is a spatially diverse movement that varies by community and thus an approach
that attempts to create a comprehensive theory of the movement is inappropriate.
3.1 Methods
3.2 Interviews
Interviews are the most appropriate way to solicit meanings and feelings attached
to people’s experiences (Cloke et al. 2004). This approach has the advantage of being
‘sensitive and people-oriented, allowing interviewees to construct their own accounts of
their experiences by describing and explaining their lives in their own words’ (Valentine
2005:111). Cloke et al. (2004:150) argue that ‘the strengths of using interviews lie in the
very acknowledgement of intersubjectivity which permits a deeper understanding of the
whos, hows, wheres and whats of many aspects of human geography research.’
Interviewing participants allowed me to ask open-ended questions about their personal
motives for joining food groups and their ideas about gender norms within Transition
culture. I considered asking men different questions than women due to my uncertainty at
the beginning of the research process on how I should distinguish between men’s and
women’s responses, in the end deciding it to ask the same questions but make note of the
sex of the interviewee. However, there is an inadvertent gender bias in the responses. The
replies I my initial emails were all from women and the number of men participating in
these projects was significantly smaller than the number of women participants (see
Appendix 2 for groups and interviewees included in the study).
17
Audio recording was not used in these interviews. While there are several
limitations to copious note taking during an interview versus recording the conversation,
the use of an audio recording device has its weaknesses as well. The settings of these
interviews were all public locations due to the nature of the Transition Movement not
having offices or the like. Background noise, especially in the pubs where I met up with
members, would have been close to impossible to overcome. Taking notes during
interviews did sometimes interrupt the flow of the conversation, however, and
remembering ‘exact linguistic formulations’ and selective filtering of what I wrote down
were also limiting factors (Kvale 2007:94). While the study took place in London, I
collected data via email from the first Transition group in Totnes as well as Leicester. I
interviewed six people by email, and found these responses were rich in detail, more so
indeed than many of the face-to-face encounters. As Meho (2006:1291) points out though,
this is not unusual considering that both researcher and interviewee have more time to
give thoughtful and careful responses than during natural conversation. These responses,
unlike a free flowing conversation, did not lead to conversation down any tangential alleys
and as such were slightly more structured.
3.3 Participant Observation
Participant observation adds a new perspective to an interview because it ‘focuses
on practices and interactions at a specific moment’ (Flick 2009:448). Participant
observation allowed me to witness ‘what people say they do and why, and what they are
seen to do and say to others about this’ (Cloke et al. 2004:169-170). I also gave me a sense
of group dynamics and hierarchy (or lack thereof) within the group. While these were
useful occasions to note the interactions and discussions between Transition members,
jotting down notes proved to be awkward at times and made me more conspicuous as an
observer and less of a participant. By integrating myself into the various settings by
participating in conversation and gardening I aimed to make participants more
comfortable with my presence so they could be more candid.
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3.4 Discourse Analysis
Engaging in discourse analysis provides a different level of information. Transition
movement literature and the vast amount of information the Transition Network keeps on
the web, including their official website, different groups’ websites, and blogs provided
further insight into the ideals that Transition support. The founder of the movement wrote
The Transition Handbook, which describes the rationale behind the movement, in a sense
providing the official manifesto. Online resources are further useful in finding out what
transition groups are discussing, the problems or successes different projects, and so on.
Discourse analysis is thus a useful complement to interviews and participant observation,
acting ‘as a method to cross-validate information gathered from interview and observation
given that sometimes what people say maybe different from what people do’ (Noor
2008:1604).
3.5 Access
The focus on Transition groups in London who have specific food growth projects
meant that my access strategy started with the internet and searching the official
Transition Network web page for groups in London. These were relatively easy to locate as
the Transition Movement in general is active on the web and uses the internet as one of
their chief networking tools (via blogs, project web pages, facebook, twitter, etc.).
Transition groups (at least rhetorically) are incredibly open to newcomers and people who
are interested in what they do, and my email requests had a fairly decent response rate
(out of 14 groups, eight replied). Frequent public events provided a ready-made excuse to
turn up and talk to group members.
3.6 Ethics
While it was easy to arrange consent from the people I was in immediate contact
with, there were times when, as part of a larger group, there were several people who were
not aware of my presence as a researcher. This raises ethical issues because had the entire
group been fully conscious of my actual role they may not have spoken as liberally or could
have had other objections to my presence. Further ethical issues were raised in my use of
information available online without the consent of the author. The interpretation of an
19
online discussion forum is carries ethical implications because it could be, for example, that
the archive is incomplete and that my interpretation results from a partial version of the
original post (Sixsmith and Murray 2001). Furthermore, the ownership of the online post
comes into question because though it is in the public domain, it is unclear if the post
should belong to the author, the community, or the researcher (Sixsmith and Murray
2001). Finally, giving credit to the author would compromise his or her anonymity
(Sixsmith and Murray 2001).
3.7 Power Relations
Acknowledging the respective positionalities of the researcher and the researchered
is a deeply complex issue that Rose (1997) addresses, but to which she does not reach a
definitive conclusion. She thus recommends that researchers appreciate that ‘power and
knowledge are inextricably connected’ (318), while keeping their worries about what their
research might erase or exclude. As a researcher, I have total control over the
interpretation of my data, yet I do not feel that power relations are very central to my
project because I identify with Transition participants. The interactive relationships that I
formed with many of the participants were shaped by mutual knowledge that both
interviewer and interviewee had higher than average knowledge about and care for
environmental issues. Yet as an outsider food groups welcomed my questions and
participation in their activities.
4.0 Analysis and Discussion
4.1 Moving Beyond Gender Myths
“The emerging voice of women in the Peak Oil/Energy Descent movements is very welcome,
and symbolic of the issue moving away from a focus on graphs, statistics and depletion
profiles, towards communities, families and a more-solutions focused and inclusive approach”
(Hopkins 2006).
In introducing the Transition movement, Hopkins references Tom Atlee who writes
about creating an ‘‘alternative story field’ [by] creating new myths and stories that begin to
20
formulate what a desirable sustainable world might look like” (Hopkins 2008:94). Stories
shape the way we act and, as Haxeltine and Seyfang (2009:3) have established, Transition
literature advances the idea of ‘protected spaces where new social and technical practices
can develop’: spaces for rewriting stories about the way we live. Allen and Sachs (2007)
have pointed out that in the current world, women carry out the majority of care labour
and Armstrong and Armstrong (2002) have remarked upon how ‘care, as both an
emotional and physical labour, falls disproportionately on women’ (as cited in Milligan and
Wiles 2010:742). This includes ‘the most basic labor of care’: food provision (Allen and
Sachs 2007:1). Western culture expects women and men to fit certain traits and
dispositions (Friedman 1993) where the assumption is that caring is private and feminine.
Transition culture aims to create new stories about the way we should live, yet still clings
to old stories concerning gendered norms. The whole idea of the Transition movement as
“caring about the world and being in touch with your feelings” is “hippie and un-
masculine,” as Interviewee 1C [male] put it, yet with undertones of a “slight blokiness”
[Interviewee 4A, female]. Members of both sexes felt that the Transition movement as a
whole was only “subtly” or “not explicitly” challenging gender norms at this stage.
Considering that certain gender stereotypes still exist within Transition culture, its
ambition to create new stories remains latent, and does not change the gendered way
people behave.
The association of women with gardening and cooking (basic care activities) would
lead us to expect that food groups are more heavily female. Indeed, Hopkins (2009) also
notes that the majority of people who come forward to take allotments are women. Though
most food group participants did say outright that they felt there were more women
involved, and indeed this was evident from my contact with the groups, others felt that
their groups were more equally divided, though usually noting that there was a gendered
division of labour, where women sign up for planting and men sign up for the more
physically demanding tasks. One male participant gave especially detailed insight of his
views of gender within Transition food groups. According to Interviewee 1C [male],
“Gardening can be masculine…four guys came out to clear the garden and break the
ground. [One woman] came out, too, but just physically could not break the ground...It
wasn’t intentional that it was just guys that came out for the digging.” He went on to say
21
that to get some men to come out to the garden to work, he had to “sell it” in a manly way
as “cheaper than going to the gym” and that upon reflection it was “funny that [he had] to
use that line to get guys to come out.” In this sense, gender stereotypes linger on, and are
perhaps inhibiting (whether consciously or not) participants from partaking in the various
Transition activities. Furthermore, Interviewee 1C [male] felt there was an “odd stigma to
food group” and does not speak to his male friends about his Transition activities “because
they might think I’m gay,” though no one had ever actually called him a “pansy” about going
out to the community garden. This “stigma” is possibly a result of the cultural myths that
we have built around food and it’s traditional association with women. As such, old societal
structures carry through to an extent, yet at the same time are slowly breaking down, as is
apparent by some men taking part in gardening and food groups.
Following the same line of thought, Interviewee 7A [female] elaborated on “splits in
the movement between practical do-ers and 'heart & soul-ers' which often also means
'men' and 'women'.” She speculated that the Transition paradigm itself is partially to blame
because it is a movement that “grew up out of permaculture values and culture” and which
is “very oriented to 'doing things' practically and is quite abstractly reflective with a focus
on how things 'could be' - a focus on the future which is a bit of an intellectual abstraction.”
Similarly, Interviewee 6B [female] speculates that the challenge for Transition does not lie
so much in achieving gender balance per se,
“but around how we as a society learn to recognise the equal, but different value, of
the two ways of working…[which] could quite easily be recognised as being
traditionally female and male roles, and in some places this is strongly the case and
has led to a tangible splitting off of those that value “doing” from those that value
“being”. It is not exclusively, though, the terrain of men and women to hold these
polarities. More and more the positions are held by people of both gender.”
Mason and Whitehead (2011:6) also recognise such ‘internal diversity’ and refer to it as ‘a
source of latent tension in relation to the geographical form and ideals of the movement.’
Yet this conflict does not seem to emerge along physically gendered lines, but along lines of
typically male cerebral course of action and the feminine intuitive course of action. Several
women commented on the relative gender balance in the movement:
“In some ways, Transition is the most gender balanced activity I've been a part of -
22
you can find plenty of groups and initiatives that have women leading in many
different styles. Others with men leading, also with many different styles, or with a
very shared system for making decisions and moving forward…I would say that
what you see reflected are in some ways the culture's norms - because of course we
exist within that - but also the people who are interested in Transition are already in
some way challenging the existing culture, and many have a history in social
movements for change including the women's movement, peace movement,
organisations for social justice and so on. But also there are people who are very
traditional.” [Interviewee 6A, female]
Interviewee 5B [female] commented: “I imagine that individuals allow similar levels of
gender roles forces to operate on them during their participation in this community as they
do elsewhere in their lives.” Furthermore, Interviewee 4A [female] commented that mostly
men are leaders, but that Transition is more balanced than a ‘regular business.’ Still, she
thought that the Transition movement on whole had a “slight blokie-ness.”
The division of ‘labour’, both within the food groups and the broader Transition
movement, alludes to a deeper chasm, but not necessarily between genders. Feminist
literature has addressed the idea of a ‘division of moral labor’ between genders (Friedman
1993:259). We thus expect a difference in the ways that men and women reason morally.
Milligan and Wiles (2010:738) argue that care is culturally constructed, ‘shaped by social
and political-economic contexts operating at the level of the individual or wider society,
and in public and private spheres.’ To quote Friedman (1993:261) at length:
Our very conceptions of femininity and masculinity, female and male, incorporate
norms about appropriate behavior, characteristic virtues, and typical vices…To say
that the genders are moralized is to say that specific moral ideals, values, virtues,
and practices are culturally conceived as the special projects or domains of specific
genders.
Transition participants noticed a divergence between “practical do-ers” and “heart-and-
soul-ers,” or the traditional boundary between male and female ways of doing things, but
did not believe that gender was necessarily relevant to this boundary. Interviewee 6B
[female] explained “many of the issues that are faced, not only within the Transition
movement but also at large in our society, are around the way in which we do things; that
23
traditionally would have fitted very neatly into gender specific categories, male, left
brained, logical ways, and female right brained intuitive ways. I would argue that nowadays
it is no longer such an issue of gender balance we face (in this country at any rate), but a
strong bias towards recognising and valuing left brained ways of doing things above right
brained ways.”
On the other hand, Interviewee 1C [male] felt that the food group “has less of a
problem challenging gender stereotypes than the main Transition movement”: “It’s quite
manly to be down at your allotment.” Others, too, alluded to the fact that food groups are a
place where the ‘right’ and ‘left’ brained thinkers meet in the middle. In Interviewee 6B’s
[female] experience,
“not only is this a group that feels gender neutral, it is also the group where least
conflict arises, this is an area that allows for both gender stereotypes…to have space,
and very often these are the most successful groups in terms of output, tangible
results, and also where most fun is had, celebration of harvest, forming relationships
as people work together, and understanding the importance of patience; no one
expects nature to perform to deadlines, and yet being thrilled when results normally
reach far beyond our expectations.”
This recognition that food and gardening are bringing together men and women is
interesting. That some men are confronting this “stigma” with their participation in caring
activities may not be indicative of the onset of a full scale upheaval of gender stereotypes,
but reflective of the fact that both men and women are able to see the benefits to our
wellbeing of a way of working that is both physical and emotional [Interviewee 6B, female].
The central role accorded to food relocalisation in Transition is indicative of the birth of
new stories around this most basic component of caring.
The femininity associated with the ‘symbolically female moral voice’ is obscured to
an extent by visioning sustainable food systems as the heart of the community and
essential to our physical and emotional health (Pinkerton and Hopkins 2009). The idea that
food (re)localisation is acknowledged and treated as essential to a post peak-oil future
gives value to this type of care that is usually disregarded. Though this is still a heavily
female activity, I argue that within Transition food groups men and women are not
‘defin[ing] their masculinity and femininity, their similarity and difference’ (Counihan
24
1998:7), but embracing the inherent value in food growing. Friedman (1993:262) argues
that even though men and women may not ‘fit the traits and dispositions expected of them,
this might not necessarily undermine the myths and symbols, since perception could be
selective and disconfirming experience reduced to the status of “occasional exceptions” and
“abnormal, deviant cases.’’ But I would argue that gender may not be a serious obstacle for
Transition food groups specifically. ‘Reclamation of care’ within food groups (Cuomo
1997:126), ‘is rather the affirmation of the centrality of a series of vital activities to the
everyday ‘sustainability of life’ that have been historically associated with women”
(Carrasco 2001 as cited by Puig de la Bellacasa 2010:13).
4.2 The Woman/Nature Connection
The underlying division of Transitioners into gendered camps is telling: ‘gender
differences are alive and well at the level of popular perception’ (Friedman 1993:262). I
will avoid a long explanation of the historic myths that have tied women and nature
inextricably together in our culture; suffice it to say that ‘Father Nature’ has no cultural
resonance whatsoever (Roach 2003:9) [For a more thorough account see Plumwood 1993,
Chapter 1]. A common theme that emerged was the idea that women have inherently
different traits from men, namely that they are more nurturing. One discussion among
Transition members revealed that the entire group rejected the idea of people (both male
and female) being separate from nature, though Interviewee 2D [male] expressed the
opinion that “women are closer to nature than men.” The discussion laboured over
Interviewee 2C’s [female] statement that, “our physical being is nature! It’s a basic fact of
life so why don’t people see that?,” with other group members struggling to come to a
satisfying conclusion though suggesting ideas such as: “we’ve just become cultured into a
consumer society” and mentioning the “mainstream things that we are supposed to be
obsessed with” [Interviewee 2E, female].
Though such statements as “women are closer to nature” are clearly provoking, I
heard elements of this mentioned throughout my research. The idea that women are more
nurturing than men was cited as a reason for female-heavy food and gardening groups on
more than one occasion. This would suggest that the reason that there are more women
involved in food groups is the cultural myth that associates women with nurturing tasks
25
and thus the stigma for men accompanying food production. The literature has already
pointed out that “clear gender concerns have arisen historically in the production,
preparation and consumption of food generally” (Little et al .2009:202). Interviewee 6B
[female] took a slightly different approach to the link between women and nurturing:
“It may be that women are more prepared to see the value of working in both ways,
but I feel that to say that devalues those men who clearly value this way of working,
and who are very much part of the transition food growing groups…It might be true
to say that because women have been involved with food in their role as nurturer
they are more drawn to these groups, but I have a sense it is more related to the fact
that because of the nature of the patriarchal society we have been part of where
women could not hold the same roles as men, women have been left to develop the
right side of the brain more fully, and this faculty more immediately identifies with
the inherent patterns of nature and its seasons, and therefore food growing.”
Suggesting that women are possibly more developed as nurturers due to the oppressions of
a patriarchal society draws attention to the culturally constructed nature of gender norms.
In Transition groups gender norms are essentially cut and pasted from a domestic space
onto a public space. However, there is still resistance to cultural constructions, although
perhaps not deliberate. Recognising that the system we exist in is “based on that belief set
that there is not enough in the world, that we need more, that we’re separate from each
other, that we’re separate from nature, that we are either disempowered or need to grab as
much power as we can” [Interviewee 6A, female] illustrates that there are those in the
Transition movement who aim to deconstruct the hubris of humanity, including the idea
that women are closer to nature.
Creating Empowering Spaces?
Within the groups that are included in this study, some people were keenly aware of
gender politics and others only had eyes for gardening. Two particularly politically active
participants [Interviewee 1A, female and Interviewee 1B, male] expressed the view that
perhaps “women feel more comfortable taking this kind of action” because “they are
underrepresented in politics and this is a way for them to have their voices heard.” It is
further “more appealing” for women and “easy to be involved in grassroots movements”
26
and may be women’s way of “seizing power” that “doesn’t intrude on family life.” However,
these perceptions betray the presence of a gendered construction of social relations, noted
above. Seeing Transition as a space where women can feel empowered may mean that
Transition creates spaces that are transformative for the role of women. Several women
claimed feeling empowered by growing food, but for a variety of reasons. Interviewee 4B
[female] said her freedom to choose how she wanted to participate with the support of the
movement at large gave her a sense of empowerment. Interviewee 5A [female] claimed
that, “Food growing does empower in the sense that it gives you the choice of saying yes or
no to shopping at supermarkets or relying on international supply chains. This is because
of having other food sources.” Her fellow community member, Interviewee 5B [female],
said her sense of empowerment stems from the number of successful projects with which
she has worked. Interviewee 5C [female] engaged me in a discussion about what it really
means to be empowered:
“[It] depends what you mean by empowered…is it motivating yes, and do I feel a
sense of progress accomplishment, yes…do other things seem more possible – no…
do I feel more powerful – no…am I more powerful- not really, BUT I have
developed/ will develop new relationships so through that possibly yes I am more
powerful, but its all circumstantial. I generally believe if we use the phrase
'empower', we fail to recognise / underestimate people's existing power/ potential,
or people's sense of their own power/potential. I think it is a cynical term and a
cynical view of others…I feel this term is commonly used in unhelpful ways - no
doubt accidentally- but its common use who would tend to disempower people by
suggesting that they need to be empowered or can so simply be 'empowered'.”
These responses emphasise the multitude of meanings that women give to feeling
‘empowered,’ and thus underlines the complexity of judging the transformative potential of
Transition in the realm of gender and whether or not there is more than just ‘formal’
gender equality within the alternative structure that Transitioners have created and
defined for themselves. It is worth citing Allen and Sachs (2007:15) at length here to
remind us what is at stake in these emancipatory spaces Transition creates:
Women’s subordination is locked into food, but their resistance in the material,
socio-cultural, and corporeal domains of food challenges global capitalism and male
27
privilege. As women work to reshape the food system in the interest of better
health, social justice, and environmental soundness, they are also creating
possibilities for women to gain control of their bodies and their lives.
Perhaps, given the cultural association of women with nurturing, women ‘instinctually’ feel
more comfortable participating in a food group, but we cannot ignore the women who
garden for reasons such as sustainability and local food security. Though not overtly
feminist, Transition as a movement is about building emancipatory spaces where people
can feel empowered in their own way and therefore, it is not for me to define what, indeed,
it is to feel empowered. However, in looking at food groups through the lens Allen and
Sachs provide, these are spaces where community members practice their shared interests
in working to reshape the food system and as such, create possibilities for women to be
empowered.
4.3 Creating New ‘Visceral Imaginaries”
Transition food projects and activities take a variety of forms: grow food locally, buy
food locally, gather wild/unused harvest, local processing and provisioning, local food
mapping, and food related courses, such as permaculture (Pinkerton and Hopkins 2009).
Hopkins talks of ‘[t]he wonder of reconnecting with food’ (2009:18) and also how ‘[f]ood
shapes and is shaped by…our physical and emotional health’ (Pinkerton and Hopkins
2009:20). None of the groups that I met with aspired to feed all of London with their
growing projects and, while initiatives varied, the common factor tended to be inspiring
and educating people both outside and inside the immediate Transition group. In order to
place food group activities within the framework of a relational ethic of care, I turn to the
idea of ‘alternative visceral imaginaries’ or the ‘ability for individuals and groups to
sense/imagine/taste different bodily futures” (Cook et al. 2011:113-114). Hayes-Conroy
and Hayes-Conroy (2010:2957) define ‘visceral’ as ‘the bodily realm in/through which
feelings, sensations, moods, and so on are experienced seek to rework concepts of identity/
difference to include both bodily sensation and mental conceptualizing’ which necessarily
includes the cognitive mind. To expand upon this description, they write: ‘Importantly, we
understand bodily feeling to result not from purely individual sensations or intrinsic
qualities of the self, but rather from different(ly situated) bodies' capacities to affect and be
28
affected by other bodies [including non-human bodies, like food or music]’ (Hayes-Conroy
and Hayes-Conroy 2010:2957). By engaging in food group analysis as though we are
‘alimentary assemblages’ we can understand how we are ‘bodies that eat with vigorous
class, ethnic and gendered appetites, mouth machines that ingest and regurgitate,
articulating what we are, what we eat and what eats us’ (Probyn 2000:32 as cited by Cook
et al. 2011:113). Entering ‘the visceral realm’ means linking foods ‘up with ideas,
memories, sounds, visions, beliefs, past experiences, moods, worries and so on, all of which
combine to become material – to become bodily, physical sensation” (Probyn 2000:32 as
cited by Cook et al. 2011:113).
Transition’s (re)localisation ethos attempts to change people’s relationship to food.
Hosting community events featuring “Frankenstein fruits” and “comedy vegetables” is seen
as an innovative way to show people that even though produce can be weird looking it’s
perfectly edible and “that is the whole point!” Transition members express a desire to
change the outlook on produce from immaculate, store bought or frozen to fresh, local and
delicious. These food growth projects are more to inspire and educate people to start their
own gardens by showing people it is achievable, a decidedly “unpreachy” way of making a
difference, according to Interviewee 1A [female]. The mantra of one food group in
particular is, “Less focus on sales, more on propagation” in order to create a garden from
which people can taste and learn. Appreciating the taste of a “wonky” carrot grown in
Tooting may indeed be the start of a way ‘for people gain the capacity to feel food (and eat
food) in other (ie, alternative/transgressive) ways’ (Cook et al. 2011:114). Crucially though,
‘[i]n emphasizing a visceral politics we are not advocating a move towards individualistic
forms of being-political; rather we move towards a radically relational view of the world”
(Hayes-Conroy and Hayes-Conroy 2008:464). As people experience this locally grown food
in community settings this could create an association of tasty, local food with that of
community spirit and care. Part of the idea of Transition includes “harnessing the power of
a positive vision” where ‘[b]eing able to associate images and a clear vision with how a
powered-down future might be is essential’ (Hopkins 2008:94). ‘Visioning,’ observe
Seyfang and Haxeltine (2009:9), ‘is intended to psychologically predispose participants to
making effective changes.’ Participants confirm the wild success of food projects as well as
how good they feel about participating in them. I argue that by associating the development
29
of a taste for local food in the context of positive emotions and community spirit, food
groups not only generate alternative visceral imaginaries but also build a new relational
ethic around food.
Furthermore, the goal to instill a sense of ownership and responsibility within
people of the produce they grow also works to create new experiences around food with
the potential to produce transgressive visceral imaginaries. As Interviewee 1C [male] put it,
their food group, “want[s] people to plant their own plants and have a vested interest in
seeing them grow.” Interviewee 5B [female] alluded to the less tangible results of building
emotional/ caring connections while engaging in food growth projects: “I visited one of the
projects on an estate and the guy who set it up talked to us about how people who never
talked to each other on the estate were now socialising together, sharing their cultures,
educating their children about food growing so the knock on effects are really touching.” As
Cox (2010:118) suggests, participants in local alternative food schemes display ‘care for
their families, communities, natural environment (both in general and its particular local
expressions) and for unknown others to whom they felt connected through their food.’ As
such, the transformative potential lies in the positive emotions surrounding food activities
in Transition.
In trying to educate and inspire, and build a relationship of care and a sense of
ownership over a garden, food groups are making people think of food in a different way;
they are hoping to create “a mindset change” according to Interviewee 5A [female]. In the
attempt to create different bodily and emotional relations with food, Transition food
initiatives endeavour to normalise/familiarise the ‘alternative.’ In this way groups are
“communicating the choices and the dialogue and how you can change the way you live”
[Interivewee 2A, female]. As argued earlier, food localisation projects create new visceral
imaginaries, linking food to community via the association of tasty, local food with
community. Groups also strive to make this type of food more accessible to others by
showing people how to do it, educating and inspiring. In moving towards a more relational
view of the world through food, Transition food groups embody an ethic of care. As
McEwan and Goodman (2010:109) point out:
care is fundamentally geographical in its production, development, reception and,
now, consumption. It is about ‘feeling’ as much as ‘doing’, it is about ‘doing to’ as
30
much as ‘feelings from’…Care connects diverse communities…and it is best
understood as a search for an ethos, rather than a universal ethics.
Food groups are about people seeing a “wonky” carrot and knowing that it is tasty, wanting
people to reconnect with their communities, and wanting kids to know that peas do not
come from the supermarket but from the earth [Interviewee 1C, male]. It is also about
thinking about where your food comes from and what you can make at home, like learning
how to bake your own bread [Interviewee 5A, female].
In creating a new connection with food, people may reevaluate their relationship
with food. The aspiration of food projects, as Pinkerton and Hopkins (2009:29) note, is
‘revaluing of place’:
A number of food-project participants have found that a focus on local produce
through community-engaged action has reconnected them with the place in which
they live, its nature and its seasons, so that it is now not only their home but also the
source of their food and where new friendships and networks are nurtured. This
revaluing of place and the people living and growing within it helps to put a ‘face’
back on the food produced, and trust back in the supply chain.
We can thus begin to see an acknowledgement of the importance of care for place and in
relations with others (both human and non-human). ‘Acknowledging the necessity of care
in every relation is to be aware of how all beings depend on each other’ (Puig de la
Bellacasa 2010:13). Furthermore, ‘if care is a form of relationship it also creates
relationality’ (Puig de la Bellacasa 2010:13). As such, food ‘complicates the fabric of ‘our
social lives’…by extending the register of ‘bodies’ that count beyond the human and
admitting living things and their traces (not restricted to the visible) into this vital
topography’ (Whatmore 2002:124).
4.4 Food Projects as Practical and Accessible Sites of Care
Similar to Allen (2010:305), I found that
people engage in the projects they do, not because they are not fully aware of the
teratogenic effects of history and political economic structures, but because it is what
they see they can do to make a difference in measurable time and space and (not
incidentally) for which they can get support.
31
Furthermore, ‘‘[r]econnection’ with the production of their food’ allows for and encourages
practices that embrace caring on multiple levels (McEwan and Goodman 2010:107).
Physically gardening affects the way that people think about responsibility as a member of
a community. In this way, Transition food projects create new possibilities for
responsibility and care in public spaces.
As the principle providers of food (Allen and Sachs 2007, Little et al. 2009), women’s
involvement in these alternative spaces of care denotes some change in their identity as a
provider. As a consumer, a person can care at a distance by buying something which
represents, but is not, the issue he or she cares about (though, perhaps, cooking that food
for people you care for is part of a material manifestation of care). As a gardener, a person
can care directly for the issue because the act of growing and consuming is transformative
in itself. Cox (2010 as cited by McEwan and Goodman 2010:109) argues
that care in food is easier to ‘see’ and ‘appreciate’ given that it is transmitted not
only through the relations of care set up by the alternative food networks (‘seeing’
the cow, farmer, and landscape that the food is coming from), but it is tied to
something very material and embodied in this food, which then is incorporated (in
multiple senses) into one’s consuming body.
Thus, as McEwan and Goodman (2010:109) put it, ‘the materialities of care in action, as
very often embedded in ‘alternative’ foods, are easy to see and thus easier to appreciate.’
The caring that takes place in private spaces, such as food provisioning, and that is typically
undervalued by society (Lawson 2009) is thus moved into a more visible and accessible
public space. Tying back to visceral imaginaries, these caring spaces may be transformative
for the way that people view caring work, because they are more attuned to the bodily
sensations and emotions tied to food labour and its origins.
Whether this care manifests itself more as feeling of responsibility towards the non-
human environment or from a desire for community betterment is difficult to define. Some
saw Transition as an opportunity to vent their frustrations about inaction at a higher level
with regard to the problem of climate change. Others still came into Transition from the
perspective of a “frustrated gardener” [Interviewee 3A, female] in need of a place to grow
and also for the practicalities Transition community gardens offer for participating in
something you care about [Interviewee 4A, female]. Naturally, participants had overlapping
32
reasons. Several respondents felt that participation at the local level was important for
change on a global level. Others, while expressing concern for global problems like climate
change, specifically indicated that participating at a local level was more relevant to their
current position in life. While acknowledging that this is not a “complete solution”
[Interviewee 5A, female], participants also realize that, at this stage, this is not the point—
building local community is an important factor for many respondents and a big reason
that they wanted to participate in the movement. As one respondent stated: “People who
enjoy gardening come out here, people come along because they know each other because
they want to do things together” [Interviewee 4B, female]. Despite how small these efforts
are, people feel that it is important to engage with the community and see these initiatives
as a way to address bigger problems. As Interviewee 1C [male] phrased it: “It’s a drop in
the ocean, but without any drops there would be no ocean in the first place.”
These responses illustrate the multiple functions that the community venue serves,
and the multiple meanings that people attribute to their food projects and the spaces that
these projects create. This is part of what Williams (2002) recognizes in his discussion on
the ‘rapidly changing geographies of care’ (as cited by Milligan and Wiles 2010:748).
Transition embodies an ethic of care by enabling the creation of spaces where people can
care for their community, environment, and family, at the same time as lessening their
impact on distant others. That this new caring space still has a relative “stigma” attached to
it potentially means that it is less accessible to men, and more women are involved because
they are more comfortable with their roles to care than men. Moreover, these responses
portray a messiness of boundaries of care between proximate and distant others, humans
and nature, and private and public spaces. The joy these people feel by gardening and
engaging with people in their community displays what Whatmore (1997:49) describes as
‘intimate ethical connections between people and places, bodies and meanings…[that]
make sense only through an acknowledgement of the material properties of nature.’
However, as Mason and Whitehead (2011) point out, they find the ‘disconnection’ solution
to caring for distant others slightly problematic. Yet I find that the understanding of
responsibility and care within Transition food culture harbors a material approach to care
that does not differentiate between caring at a local level and caring at a global level
because it is, in essence, the same thing. There is an awareness that the actions of
33
gardening local food and sharing it with the community garners local resilience with the
purpose of betterment for proximate others yet that benefits also extend to distant others.
These movements transfer care from their marginalised, private realm into a new space
where ‘[t]he skills and (dis)comforts of growing, provisioning, cooking and eating …
confound conventional cartographies of distance and proximity, and local and global scales’
(Whatmore 2002:162).
5.0 Conclusion: What does Transition mean for Food Justice?
This analysis of Transition food initiatives documents the existing gender myths and
the creation of alternative spaces that radically redraw conventional topographical scales
and allow for the formation of a new relationship with food. This in turn lays the
foundations for a socially just alternative food system. As Allen (2010) notes, a series of
individual actions are not enough to counter the inequalities within the current global food
system; only a social solution can solve a social problem. The community approach of
Transition addresses this ‘democratic deficit’ (Kneafsey 2010:185) within the capitalist
food system, marking a transformation towards sustainability via the ‘pragmatic’ efficiency
of ‘food democracy’ (Hassanein 2003). Following Cox (2010:119) I find that this ‘portrayal
suggests that it is not only possible to act and to organize economic activity on the basis of
care ethics, but also that this is taking place and providing fulfillment to those involved.’ I
further found that my research developed in the field in discovering the relevance of
visceral imaginaries literature to Transition food groups. The significance of engaging more
reflexively with how ‘we ‘make ourselves’ as persons’ comes in forming a ‘more significant
bodily awareness’ within ‘our performance of the social, heightening the sense of shared
existential vulnerability and finitude as a modality of political association and ethical
recognition’ (Whatmore 2002:151). The more visceral recognition of interdependence and
community unity is potent within Transition communities.
While I find that Transition food groups are more ‘gender neutral’ than other
Transition groups, the continuation of symbolic gendered roles complicates this scene of
gender neutrality. Despite this, food initiatives offer women a space within which to
reshape the food system while ‘challenge[ing] global capitalism and male privilege.’ I also
argue that while food initiatives may be female dominated, the recognition of food
34
(re)localisation as integral to sustainable, resilient communities formally, at least, aims to
arrange communities around caring activities, bringing care forward out of its marginalised
place in society. Food initiatives do not pose a direct challenge to prevailing gender norms,
however the formation of alternative food networks itself challenges the hierarchical and
oppressive global food system, and therefore empowers women.
I fear, however, that it is much more complicated than this rather ‘beautiful vision’
of a radical new space for care. There is a concern that this movement is not reaching the
‘unconverted’ and as such that this type of caring will have trouble extending beyond the
‘green-belt’ (Seyfang and Haxeltine 2010). Moreover, signs of unreflexive localism threaten
to alienate local food groups from those who do not identify with the ‘white, middle-class’
brand. While the Transition Network has recognised these burgeoning issues, I suggest
them as avenues for future research.
35
Appendix 1: Ethical Approval
Dear Kirsti Susanna Barrineau,
KCL/10-11_685 Environment, Politics and Globalisation
I am pleased to inform you that full approval for your project has been granted by the GGS Research Ethics Panel. Any specific conditions of approval are laid out at the end of this email which should be followed in addition to the standard terms and conditions of approval:
- Ethical approval is granted for a period of one year from the date of this email. You will not receive a reminder that your approval is about to lapse so it is your responsibility to apply for an extension prior to the project lapsing if you need one (see below for instructions). - You should report any untoward events or unforeseen ethical problems arising from the project to the panel Chairman within a week of the occurrence. Information about the panel may be accessed at: http://www.kcl.ac.uk/research/ethics/applicants/sshl/panels/. - If you wish to change your project or request an extension of approval you will need to submit a new application with an attachment indicating the changes you want to make (a proforma document to help you with this is available at: http://www.kcl.ac.uk/research/ethics/applicants/modifications.html). - All research should be conducted in accordance with the King's College London Guidelines on Good Practice in Academic Research available at: http://www.kcl.ac.uk/college/policyzone/index.php?id=247&searched=good+practice&advsearch=allwords&highlight=ajaxSearch_highlight+ajaxSearch_highlight1+ajaxSearch_highlight2
If you require signed confirmation of your approval please forward this email to [email protected] indicating why it is required and the address you would like it to be sent to.
Please would you also note that we may, for the purposes of audit, contact you from time to time to ascertain the status of your research.
We wish you every success with this work.
With best wishes
Yours Sincerely,GGS Reviewer
36
Appendix 2: Locations and Participants
1) Tooting: Interviewee 1A, female; Interviewee 1B, male; Interviewee 1C, male
2) Crouch End: Interviewee 2A, female; Interviewee 2B, male; Interviewee 2C, female;
Interviewee 2D, male; Interviewee 2E, female
3) Ealing: Interviewee 3A, female
4) Finsbury Park: Interviewee 4A, female; Interviewee 4B, female
5) Wimbledon: Interviewee 5A, female; Interviewee 5B, female; Interviewee 5C,
female; Interviewee 5D, male; Interviewee 5E, female; Interviewee 5F, female;
Interviewee 5G, female
6) Totnes: Interviewee 6A, female; Interviewee 6B, female
7) Leicester: Interviewee 7A, female
37
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