Broadsides

Okay, the weirdness of food safety activism is coming back to me. As in, realizing the kind of dreadful food that is being irradiated and then actually calling on people to avoid it because it’s being treated with radiation. Um, people, you shouldn’t be eating this dreck in the first place.

It reminds me of when we learned many years ago that the Hormel Corporation was thinking about irradiating SPAM. So what? was my first thought. How much worse can a little radiation make its dreadful contents? But a campaign is a campaign and, more importantly, more carcinogens in SPAM are still more carcinogens in SPAM. We won’t bother with the nutritional arguments here.

Well, it’s déjà vu all over again here. Because my new irradiation research has revealed that one of the biggest supporters of meat irradiation in the U.S. is Schwan’s, the home-delivery company whose yellow trucks should be familiar to anyone who’s spent time in the suburbs.

Let’s be clear: Schwan’s food equals dreck. Period. End of story.

So, in that case, it’s not surprising that Schwan’s would see a need for a little radiation-cover-up. Imagine, for example, where their beef comes from? Hint: The largest and most industrial (read: cheap and filthy) sources. And then imagine the factories where tens of thousands of pounds of this fecal matter-riddled beef gets processed into the pre-formed patties and other products that should very loosely be considered “meat” in the first place.

It’s a recipe for disaster (pun intended).

But for corporations like Schwan’s, the solution to their dirty food problems isn’t to clean it up. Hardly. Instead, they reach for one toxic-quick-fix after another that only makes the underlying problem (dirty food) worse.

They try more antibiotics. They try chemical rinses. And now, they’re trying irradiation. Worse, they’re employing all these gimmicks on the same hamburger patties. Hmm, I wonder what irradiated antibiotics and chemical rinses taste like? More importantly, I wonder what they do to your health? No one knows, because the Food & Drug Administration has never bothered to ask or study or, apparently, care.

But let’s get back to the “radiation-cover-up” theme. It’s the marketing Achilles heel of the technology. Corporations employing irradiation are doing so because they know they’ve got a filthy product. In the case of meat, the filth is fecal matter. But they are counting on their consumers to be so uninterested in the contents of what they eat that they won’t care that irradiated fecal matter is still…well…fecal matter. Yum.

While avoiding Schwan’s foods should be one of the easiest things to do, avoiding the precedent of Schwan’s use of irradiation is a different matter. By contracting with irradiation corporations, Schwan’s is keeping the technology alive, endorsing the further industrialization of the food supply, and stymieing critical efforts to move the food supply in a safer and saner direction.

Stay tuned.

Different around here, huh? New look and all. And content! Well, I guess I shouldn’t push it.

Here’s the deal: I’m working on another site right now. I’ll give you the url when it’s ready. But it involves a semi-revival of my previous life: Food & Water. Yeah, the organization.

My return was inspired – if going backwards in your life can be an “inspiring” move – by some serendipity.

Last April marked the 15-year-anniversary of the death of my mentor, Dr. Wally Burnstein. His death rocked my world. For nearly ten years, Wally and I created and ran a kick-ass activist organization – Food & Water – that nearly-single-handedly stopped food irradiation and put the fear of boycotts in the hearts and minds of many corporate food honchos. Better yet, we had a blast doing it.

But cancer claimed Wally in 1996. And with him – for me and many others – went the joy of activism. And activism without joy cannot succeed. It can only be avoided.

Oh sure, I’ve had my fun (thanks, Boots), but it’s been far from organized and consistent. Worse, it hasn’t paid. And there is nothing wrong with a good activist job as long as the activist with the job knows that the top priority is to succeed to the extent that your job is no longer necessary. Hint: You are not an institution. And if thoughts of your 501(k) or a dinner-party invitation trump your desire to stick your metaphorical finger in your opponent’s eye…well….get another job. Or cause.

Wally and I thought we had organized ourselves out of existence shortly before his death. We had successfully defeated fruit and vegetable irradiation, chicken irradiation and meat irradiation, leaving many corporate food giants like Perdue, Hormel and Kentucky Fried Chicken humbled by their encounters with us.

Done, we thought. Let’s move on.

I did what Wally always wanted to: I moved to the great woods of the Northeast and pursued the joys of homesteading. A successful activist life, Wally counseled, must also be rooted in the hopes and possibilities beyond what you are fighting against.

If unhealthy food is what you’re against, demonstrate a path to healthy food. And live it. And be it. And, for crying out loud, find joy in it. Otherwise, shut up about it.

I apparently found too much joy in it of late – the homesteading part, that is. Because it dwarfed my activism. Which leads me to: now.

A week or so ago I got an inquiry from a European journalist working on an article about food irradiation. The article was obviously precipitated by the E.coli crisis that has gripped the region. It happens fairly frequently: E.coli outbreak = calls for irradiation = calls for a comment about why I would oppose a technology that could save death, pain, and destruction.

But this time it was different. Because this time it was the “worst” case of E.coli contamination ever. And it is, indeed, terrible. Thousands of people have become seriously ill from the novel germ with the not-so-novel prefix: E.coli.

And then another call came. And then a few emails. And then a letter in the mail (imagine that?), all wondering the same thing: Where’s Food & Water on this?

The answer: We’re here. And we’re ready.

But, be warned, I have a keen sense for joy. I’m not getting in the ring with you nuclear and industrial food fools without a very true commitment to laugh my ass off while I kick yours.

It’s not personal. It’s just what I believe in.

Game: On.

Join me, friends.