As I’m contemplating what to include in my journal entry this week, it occurs to me how a seemingly unrelated topic actually informs the discussion of bridge cards and their relation to local food. In my Spanish class on urban issues in Latin America, we’ve been discussing the plight of the cartoneros, a group of individuals in Argentina who make their living by collecting cardboard and other reusable materials from garbage and sell it to private recycling plants. Over time, the cartoneros and the government of Buenos Aires have fought for control of these materials and the cartoneros have gradually obtained rights and fair wages, organizing into cooperatives to increase their rate of success. However, after nearly a decade of struggle, the recycling system of Buenos Aires doesn’t seem much better off. The cartoneros are only able to gather about 5% of the recyclable materials from the city’s garbage, and the rest are burned off, sending pollutants into the air at an alarming rate. Reading about this situation, I wondered why the Buenos Aires government couldn’t take the initiative and start a public recycling program that resembles what we have. I realize this is easier said than done, but it seems we have a model that can be applied to a multitude of situations. I looked at the work of the cartoneros and determined how they had obtained success, and I was most intrigued by their idea of each cooperative going house-to-house, informing citizens of the importance of recycling, and gathering the materials from a much more willing public. In some ways, it seems as though our recycling program also emphasized the importance of educating our citizens. There existed a time when we didn’t understand the importance of recycling either; but, with consistent education, it became incorporated into our lives to the point that, at least for me, not recycling a reusable material seems unnatural. It seems as though Bridge Card programs in farmers’ markets have the potential to inform their customers in a similar manner. Though there isn’t someone present to say, “It is important to buy locally,” programs such as Double Up the Food Bucks imply to bridge card users that local food is more worth their while than non-local food. Essentially, I wonder whether offering local food at a cheaper rate will not only cause shoppers to make it a bigger part of their diet, but also encourage them to learn more about the local food movement and determine why it should be a priority in their lives. Inevitably, I also wonder whether it matters if people know a lot about local food if they’re going to buy it with or without knowledge or passion for the movement. A great deal of research is being done to determine whether people are motivated to help others because they possess true altruism or because it benefits them in some way. However, the importance of this research is often questioned; does it really matter if the guy serving soup to the homeless does it selflessly or not? Inevitably, there will always be people that need help, and as long as they’re receiving that help, it doesn’t necessarily matter what motivates that help. Popularizing the local food movement may not work in the same way. Even if a larger portion of individuals buy food from members of their community, scattered local food projects will never come together in a manner that will cause the local food movement to spread nationwide. It seems that knowledge is the fire that will drive the process forward. The potential to spread that through bridge card programs is intriguing.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Bridge Cards Motivating the Local Food Movement?
Apologies: this was actually written for Monday's class, but I just decided today to do this in blog form, so it's a little late:
As I’m contemplating what to include in my journal entry this week, it occurs to me how a seemingly unrelated topic actually informs the discussion of bridge cards and their relation to local food. In my Spanish class on urban issues in Latin America, we’ve been discussing the plight of the cartoneros, a group of individuals in Argentina who make their living by collecting cardboard and other reusable materials from garbage and sell it to private recycling plants. Over time, the cartoneros and the government of Buenos Aires have fought for control of these materials and the cartoneros have gradually obtained rights and fair wages, organizing into cooperatives to increase their rate of success. However, after nearly a decade of struggle, the recycling system of Buenos Aires doesn’t seem much better off. The cartoneros are only able to gather about 5% of the recyclable materials from the city’s garbage, and the rest are burned off, sending pollutants into the air at an alarming rate. Reading about this situation, I wondered why the Buenos Aires government couldn’t take the initiative and start a public recycling program that resembles what we have. I realize this is easier said than done, but it seems we have a model that can be applied to a multitude of situations. I looked at the work of the cartoneros and determined how they had obtained success, and I was most intrigued by their idea of each cooperative going house-to-house, informing citizens of the importance of recycling, and gathering the materials from a much more willing public. In some ways, it seems as though our recycling program also emphasized the importance of educating our citizens. There existed a time when we didn’t understand the importance of recycling either; but, with consistent education, it became incorporated into our lives to the point that, at least for me, not recycling a reusable material seems unnatural. It seems as though Bridge Card programs in farmers’ markets have the potential to inform their customers in a similar manner. Though there isn’t someone present to say, “It is important to buy locally,” programs such as Double Up the Food Bucks imply to bridge card users that local food is more worth their while than non-local food. Essentially, I wonder whether offering local food at a cheaper rate will not only cause shoppers to make it a bigger part of their diet, but also encourage them to learn more about the local food movement and determine why it should be a priority in their lives. Inevitably, I also wonder whether it matters if people know a lot about local food if they’re going to buy it with or without knowledge or passion for the movement. A great deal of research is being done to determine whether people are motivated to help others because they possess true altruism or because it benefits them in some way. However, the importance of this research is often questioned; does it really matter if the guy serving soup to the homeless does it selflessly or not? Inevitably, there will always be people that need help, and as long as they’re receiving that help, it doesn’t necessarily matter what motivates that help. Popularizing the local food movement may not work in the same way. Even if a larger portion of individuals buy food from members of their community, scattered local food projects will never come together in a manner that will cause the local food movement to spread nationwide. It seems that knowledge is the fire that will drive the process forward. The potential to spread that through bridge card programs is intriguing.
As I’m contemplating what to include in my journal entry this week, it occurs to me how a seemingly unrelated topic actually informs the discussion of bridge cards and their relation to local food. In my Spanish class on urban issues in Latin America, we’ve been discussing the plight of the cartoneros, a group of individuals in Argentina who make their living by collecting cardboard and other reusable materials from garbage and sell it to private recycling plants. Over time, the cartoneros and the government of Buenos Aires have fought for control of these materials and the cartoneros have gradually obtained rights and fair wages, organizing into cooperatives to increase their rate of success. However, after nearly a decade of struggle, the recycling system of Buenos Aires doesn’t seem much better off. The cartoneros are only able to gather about 5% of the recyclable materials from the city’s garbage, and the rest are burned off, sending pollutants into the air at an alarming rate. Reading about this situation, I wondered why the Buenos Aires government couldn’t take the initiative and start a public recycling program that resembles what we have. I realize this is easier said than done, but it seems we have a model that can be applied to a multitude of situations. I looked at the work of the cartoneros and determined how they had obtained success, and I was most intrigued by their idea of each cooperative going house-to-house, informing citizens of the importance of recycling, and gathering the materials from a much more willing public. In some ways, it seems as though our recycling program also emphasized the importance of educating our citizens. There existed a time when we didn’t understand the importance of recycling either; but, with consistent education, it became incorporated into our lives to the point that, at least for me, not recycling a reusable material seems unnatural. It seems as though Bridge Card programs in farmers’ markets have the potential to inform their customers in a similar manner. Though there isn’t someone present to say, “It is important to buy locally,” programs such as Double Up the Food Bucks imply to bridge card users that local food is more worth their while than non-local food. Essentially, I wonder whether offering local food at a cheaper rate will not only cause shoppers to make it a bigger part of their diet, but also encourage them to learn more about the local food movement and determine why it should be a priority in their lives. Inevitably, I also wonder whether it matters if people know a lot about local food if they’re going to buy it with or without knowledge or passion for the movement. A great deal of research is being done to determine whether people are motivated to help others because they possess true altruism or because it benefits them in some way. However, the importance of this research is often questioned; does it really matter if the guy serving soup to the homeless does it selflessly or not? Inevitably, there will always be people that need help, and as long as they’re receiving that help, it doesn’t necessarily matter what motivates that help. Popularizing the local food movement may not work in the same way. Even if a larger portion of individuals buy food from members of their community, scattered local food projects will never come together in a manner that will cause the local food movement to spread nationwide. It seems that knowledge is the fire that will drive the process forward. The potential to spread that through bridge card programs is intriguing.
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On the recycling issue, a great deal depend on the price that the materials can be sold for. I'm betting that that is true for both Buenos Aires and Ann Arbor. But that doesn't mean that it must be left totally to market forces, since governments have various ways of intervening in markets. The local-foods discount with Bridge Cards is a parallel example. My guess is that we must operate on two levels: the economic and the educational.
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