Greed + Efficiency = Poison: What to Do About Greed?

What is in the strawberry jam you bought at the grocery store? You might wonder if it is sweetened with sugar or high fructose corn syrup. Or perhaps you might look at the ingredients label to see if strawberries or sugar is the first ingredient. You would not, however, wonder: does it have strawberries in it?  You might be suspicious of whether something labeled strawberry flavored jello actually has strawberries in it, but if the label says “strawberry jam” you assume it is made from strawberries, not apples. Safe assumption today, but not in the 19th century, early 20th century United States. There were no regulations on labeling food, no requirement to list ingredients. Greed and ingenuity led people to figure out how to make something that was sweet, looked like strawberry jam, was labeled as strawberry jam, sold at the price of strawberry jam, but had no strawberries in it. Instead of expensive strawberries they mashed up apple peelings, added grass seeds and red dye and called it strawberry jam. Greed and ingenuity led others to combine sawdust, wheat, beans, beets, peas, and dandelion seeds, scorch the mixture black, grind it and sell it as coffee. Ground stone was added to flour, Milk was diluted with water and then those greedy actors would cover their deed by adding plaster of paris or chalk to the mix.

This sort of thing has probably gone on for centuries—whether through putting a finger on the scale or through deception, dishonest greedy food sellers have cheated their customers. At times the deception was dangerous—people got sick, some died—mostly they just got cheated. With greater technical capabilities, however, things changed. What happens when you combine not just greed and ingenuity, but add technique/efficiency?

Deborah Blum writes, “By the end of the nineteenth century, the sweeping industrial revolution—and the rise of industrial chemistry—had brought a host of new chemical additives and synthetic compounds into the food supply. Still unchecked by government regulation, basic safety testing, or even labeling requirements, food and drink manufacturers embraced the new materials with enthusiasm, mixing them into goods destined for the grocery store at sometimes lethal levels” (2). Chemists gave food producers new ways to deceive and profit. Formaldehyde offered new embalming practices to undertakers, not a problem, but in food?! Producers found it not only worked as a preservative—enabling unrefrigerated meat to last longer—it actually restored the appearance of decaying meat or spoiled milk. It and other chemical preservatives used at that time, such as salicylic acid, caused sickness and death.

Not just preservation, but substitution. Producers found it more efficient to substitute chemical ingredients in place of actual food—for instance, saccharine, discovered in 1879, was much cheaper than sugar. Many of these chemical additives ended up causing significant health problems. The need for regulation and labeling was obvious, legislation was regularly introduced with broad popular support, yet it failed. Food producers and new chemical companies, like Monsanto and Dow, successfully blocked it for decades.

Blum, in her book The Poison Squad: One Chemist’s Single-Minded Crusade for Food Safety at the Turn of the Twentieth Century, chronicles many examples of intentional corruption of food, the dogged efforts to expose the dangers through testing, the denial and obfuscation by the producers, and the eventual success in passing legislation and in forming the Food and Drug Administration. Certainly there is too much government regulation in places, but this book makes it clear that we cannot rely on people or corporations to self-police. Where greed is present there will be problems. (I am summarizing a whole book in a few paragraphs. I want to be careful to make clear it was not all the food producers. Some, Heinz for instance, did not deceive nor use dangerous additives. Those producers who did not deceive were leading proponents of laws about honest labeling.)

Although these are stories from the past, the combination of greed and technique continues to poison life today. Just yesterday I read an article in TIME magazine, on how in many countries generic drugs do more harm than good. How? Generics, made in places like India and China, are cheaper than the originals made in North America or Europe. They are supposed to be, and are sold as, the chemical equivalent. But in reality the generic manufacturers often put different amounts of the active ingredient in pills with the same label. If it is going to a country with vigilant regulators they include the full amount, to countries with the less regulation they put in less, and to countries with the least regulation or enforcement they include much less in each pill. Read the article to find out how that is dangerous not only for the patient, but for all of us.

The combination of greed and technique, and its destructive consequences are, of course, not limited to food and drugs. I could share many examples. Here is just one I heard a couple weeks ago. Michael Lewis, in his podcast, “Against the Rules,” tells stories of the importance of referees in our lives—both literal sports referees and people and agencies that play that role in other area of our lives.  In the middle of the second episode, dedicated to the lack of referees in the arena of consumer finance, he explains the seven minute rule practiced at Navient a student loan servicing company. Lewis recounts one school teacher’s repeated efforts, stretched over months, to get help from Navient on entering a public service loan forgiveness program. Why did she have so much trouble? A key factor is that Navient makes its money through servicing loans for the Department of Education. The less time they spend on each person, the more money they make. The goal was for employees to spend seven minutes or less with each caller. Their computer tracked their performance efficiency throughout the day with color coded bars displaying, in real time, how much over or under the seven minute average they were for the day. They got bonuses if they stayed under. So who were the most prized employees? The ones paying more attention to the clock than to what the caller actually needed. Navient did not care whether the school teacher got the help she needed to enter the loan forgiveness program—they would lose money if she did. She missed the deadline for the program because of the incomplete help she got from her many calls. Greed combined with efficiency is hurting people today as it was a century ago.

Deborah Blum and Michael Lewis share these stories to emphasize the importance of regulations and the enforcement of regulations. In essence they are saying, because of some people’s greed we need controls for our protection. We have all experienced the frustration of government regulations gone awry, but next time you read a label or look at the list of ingredients on a food product give thanks that we have those regulations.

Blum and Lewis make a good point about the need for regulations. I, however, was left wondering: How about the root problem, greed? What can the church do to lessen greed? In the middle of Blum’s book I found myself wondering how I could re-arrange my ethics course to spend an hour reviewing examples of the damaging consequences that flow from greed combined with technique and then talk about how the church could confront greed more directly.

I continue to think lessening greed is of great importance, but I am less sure that we need to talk more about greed. I do not think we need to more often say “don’t be greedy!” Would that do any good?

Jesus and the Bible do talk about greed, but not in a bounded-group, finger-pointing sort of way. Rather it is more of a warning—greed is not good for you or others. So yes, let’s talk more often about greed, but more in the sense of truth-telling, exposing—let people know it does not deliver. It is not the path to shalom. But more important than warning people to get off the greed path, let us ponder what we are doing to help them experience the alternative—the richness that flows from loving service to others and the security of rooting our status not in consumption fueled by greed but in our belovedness by God.

I am left thinking that rather than attacking greed it is much better to promote generosity. How can we increase our generosity and encourage others in generosity?

As people aware of the reality of sin and powers of evil let us affirm the need for appropriate and well managed regulations. As bearers of the gospel let us contribute to more shalom in the world through inviting others to join us in the way of Jesus and join us in practicing generosity.

Marvelous Pigness of Pigs

When showing the documentary Fresh in class one of the lines that always catches students’ attention is Joel Salatin talking about the chickenness of the chickens. He describes how his way of farming, in contrast to industrial chicken farms, honors the chickenness of chickens. In class discussion I assert that it is a theological statement, and that Salatin means it to be—even if he does not state that in the documentary. He affirms my assumption in his recent book, The Marvelous Pigness of Pigs: Respecting and Caring for all of God’s Creation.

I immediately heard the phrase as theological because in my ethics class I so frequently talk about living more authentically as the people God created us to be. Christian ethics, in part, is about helping the Markness of Mark flourish. In this book Salatin states that to farm in a way that respects the pigness of pigs or the chickenness of chickens is to honor their creator. It also, he maintains, is the best way to farm. It is a stance of worship and respect, but also practical wisdom. He encourages us to pay attention to the patterns of creation and work with them for the good of pigs, chickens, fields and forests, and our good as well.

Salatin describes himself as a “Christian libertarian environmentalist capitalist lunatic farmer” (xiii). One thing that means is that very few people will agree with everything in this book. More significantly it means that Salatin crosses more divides and has more diversity of friendships than many in today’s increasingly siloed society. He has many conservative Christians friends who worship the Creator and many liberal friends who worship creation. “This book has grown out of the tension between those two camps” (xiii). It is an attempt to persuade evangelicals to embrace, for biblical and theological reasons, the type of farming and earth-care practiced by Salatin and his friends in the other camp.

There are many ways to read the book. Read it to learn about Salatin’s approach to sustainable farming, and ways non-farmers can participate in that approach. Read it for help in thinking of ways to talk about these issues to people you know in his target audience. Or, better yet, read it together with some in that camp. Read it for new biblical and theological insights produced by his thinking theologically about his farming practices. I encourage you to read it and let it challenge you broadly and deeply—not just in relation to specific actions and thoughts. As he works to show the contrast between the order and patterns of God’s creation, and the ways of industrial agricultural I found myself reflecting broadly and deeply on agriculture and beyond. I will share a few examples.

In the mid-1800’s Louis Pasteur saw bacteria through a microscope and developed germ theory to explain illnesses. “He proposed ways to kill these critters. He saw nature as fundamentally flawed and in need of human intervention and fixing” (60). A contemporary of his, Antoine Beauchamp, saw the same things through a microscope, but came to a different conclusion. He developed terrain theory, arguing that there are good bacteria and bad, and it is the condition of the terrain that determines which wins out. Pasteur and his followers looked for ways to kill the germs. Beauchamp explored broadly. He studied the impact of things like sleep deprivation, hygiene, and food quality on the terrain. He looked for ways to have a wellness-inducing terrain where the good bugs would win out over the bad. After introducing these contrasting approaches Salatin spends the rest of the chapter describing how the two approaches play out.

Do we take a more passive, victim mentality about sin—a sin gene or the devil made me do it; or, do we work at the terrain of our lives? Urbanization, without refrigeration or indoor plumbing set up a very negative terrain. “From smoke-clogged homes to manure-clogged streets to brewery-waste-fed-cows, the recipe for disease could not have been better” (62). Milk started making people sick. The solution? Germ theory says, kill the germs in the milk—pasteurization (which also kills the good bacteria). But Salatin points out, “raw milk from grazing cows doesn’t need to be fixed with pasteurization. It’s not broken” (63). Solution, clean up the mess and respect the cowness of cows—let them eat what cows naturally eat. “At sustainable agricultural conferences, most of the workshops are positive how-tos. I almost never hear much discussion of sickness and disease. . . At industrial agricultural conferences . . . nearly all the discussions center around diseases and sicknesses. The overriding desire is how to beat nature, how to win, as if nature is the enemy that must be subjugated like a military conquest” (89). I can applaud Salatin’s points, yet as I take a step back I have to acknowledge that I have been immersed in a germ-theory-world for most of my life. How does this influence me? How does a find-the-cause-of-the-problem-and-kill-it approach play out in other areas of my life?

(Coincidentally, the day after I wrote the previous paragraph I read an article in The New Yorker about a team working to lessen sexual assault at Colombia University. The two professors who lead the effort stated that rather than take the common approach that sees it as an issue of individual behavior and punishment as the solution, they think about it “socio-ecologically: as a matter of how people act within a particular environment. . . Their approach . . . does not ignore personal responsibility; rather, it aims to nudge students toward responsible behavior on a collective scale” [34].) 

Germ-theory-mentality combined with industrial agriculture has produced a food system saturated with fear. Consumers fear contaminated foods and farmers fear disease or pests wiping them out. In response we seek to wrap ourselves in a sanitized bubble—sanitize food, keep out visitors who might carry a germ into a chicken farm, and use chemicals to kill malicious bugs that are present. “A farm of faith says this: if I follow the Creator’s patterns, immunity and wellness will follow.” Salatin is not naïve. He acknowledges that industrial mono-crop farmers have reason to be fearful, and consumers understandably want their milk pasteurized and their chickens dipped in bleach. They have reason to be fearful of the products of a mono-cultural industrial system. Jacques Ellul tolds us that technique always leads us to look for new techniques to solve the problems created by technique. Salatin does what Ellul advocates instead, dig deeper, look for root problems, and trust God and God’s ways not technique. What are other areas in our lives where fear pervades and we have not looked deep enough in search of freedom from our fears?

Little Things Matter

I am the type that retrieves a water bottle from a trash can and puts it in the recycle bin. Just did it leaving class last night. I often feel compelled to take small actions like that—with a sense that they matter. Once in Honduras I joined neighbors to stop a forest fire from reaching our homes. A trail in the woods was our line of defense. We cleared brush on both sides of the trail so the fire would not cross that line. Then we stood guard in case sparks blew across the trail. As I watched the fire crawl down the hill towards us I looked at the little pine trees in between the trail and the approaching flames. While others stood by, I went up the hill a few yards and began clearing more brush. I made a new line of defense that saved a few of the trees. In the months ahead I would pass those trees and think, “little things matter.” We see this in the Bible—a few loaves and fishes, a mustard seed, a few coins. Thinking of forest fires reminds me that James states it explicitly. The tongue is a small thing, but like a small fire can set a whole forest ablaze so the small tongue can do great harm (James 3:1-12). Little things matter. Big things can come from them. Although I can make a biblical case for this point, I can’t claim my attention to small things flows from reading the Bible. Perhaps it does. Perhaps it is my personality. Whatever the origin of it, I do live as if little things matter.

My conviction that little things matter was reinforced in a number of ways in the last couple weeks. Articles warning of negative consequences of overuse of mobile devices have gone mainstream. I have read and heard many in recent days. An article in Time reported that, since 2010, rates of teenage depression and suicide have increased dramatically. Many believe mobile phone use and social media are a significant reason. (Just one statistic, see the article for more: adolescents who use electronic devices three or more hours a day were 34% more likely to have a suicide related outcome than those who used them two hours or less; with five hour daily use the likelihood increased to 48%.) That article, or news clips like this one and this one from NPR, saddened and sobered me. Yet, little things matter. There is hope.

A student, Matt Vincent, wrote this in a post last week:

A while ago, we "woke up" to the reality that our kids were spending more and more time online—either playing games or watching youtube/video content. We were beginning to notice some behavioral changes like those mentioned in the audio posts--grumpy, irritable, temper, and withdrawn. My wife and I decided to impose a "technology fast" for the kids—taking away phones, computer, etc. for a week. Our kids were not fans of this idea, and tried their best to argue that it wasn't needed and everything was fine :)

Almost immediately, we noticed a change in them. They started hanging out and playing more together; they spent more time outside with friends, and our time together as a family was better. We enjoyed longer conversations around the dinner table, and did more activities together. It was a pretty remarkable change.

Little things matter, and studies affirm what this student observed—remarkable positive change can come quickly. In a New York Times article Sherry Turkle describes an alarming drop in empathy amongst children and youth. Then she writes:

But we are resilient. The psychologist Yalda T. Uhls was the lead author on a 2014 study of children at a device-free outdoor camp. After five days without phones or tablets, these campers were able to read facial emotions and correctly identify the emotions of actors in videotaped scenes significantly better than a control group. What fostered these new empathic responses? They talked to one another. In conversation, things go best if you pay close attention and learn how to put yourself in someone else’s shoes.

Resiliency is not limited to humans, it is found throughout God’s creation. I saw this in another student’s reflection a couple weeks ago. Eric Miller visited a Kansas farmer as part of an act-observe-reflect-adjust assignment. Eric retells the farmer’s story from a recent seven-year drought.

One August morning he walked out of the house and it was already uncomfortably hot as the sun began to rise. He thought about his 2,000 acres of crops and his ten irrigation pivots which were each pumping 1000 gallons per minute out of the Equs Beds Aquifer. It was in that moment he started to call into question the sustainability of these methods where much of the crops grown in our state are consumed by animals so we can consume the animals. When I asked him about the future, he said without missing a beat, “We’re going to run out of water. It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.”

 He is currently in process of transitioning a quarter section (160 acres) back to grass and grazing his cows on it. This is only possible because there is now a growing market for grass-fed beef. He is also planting cover crops all winter and using the cover crops as mulch in which he plants grain in the spring. These methods have allowed him to use one tenth of the water he had been using! The young man who is working alongside him and in process of taking over the farming operation has hired a crop consultant who is helping them move away from monocultural farming methods in order to reduce the amount of herbicides and pesticides needed, which in turn reduces input costs and increases profitability. At one point in our conversation he told me, “Kansas was meant to be prairie. At some point it will need to return to Prairie.” Their crop consultant is helping them consider how to use the natural gifts of the prairie to produce food in the most sustainable ways. 

Little things matter. They are worth doing. Of course one could say, “this is a huge farm these are not little things—that is a lot of cover crop.” True, but the huge ramifications that flow from small changes still led me to think, “little things matter.” There is hope.

It is not just in growing food that little things matter, also in eating it. One student described radical life-giving changes that flowed from his avoiding sugar in his diet. Little things matter. They can bring positive changes to our lives. And little things matter not just in what we eat, but also in the setting, the meal itself. This semester a few students wrote of making the commitment to prepare meals at home and eat together around a table for the week the course focused on food and farming. As students have observed other years, this contributes to so much more than intake of healthier food. They describe increased laughter, connection, sharing. The relational impact from this simple change exceeded expectations. Little things matter.

As we seek to name others, little things matter—a question, looking someone in the eyes. Last week a woman told me of a vivid memory from a few years ago. She was sitting with her husband and another man—all three were in leadership roles in ministry. She recounted that her husband brought up a controversial Rob Bell book. She said, “so I braced myself for a long theological discussion where my brain wanders but my face pretends to listen attentively. My husband casually mentioned that I also had read the book and at the next pause in conversation the other man looked at me and asked, ‘What did you think about it?’ This small question spoke volumes. I’ve been in Christian settings and leadership positions for many years, and I remember this as the first time someone specifically and genuinely asked for my thoughts. It was one of those revealing moments that was disappointing because it shed light on how often I’m not asked questions–especially when my husband is around–but it also was an incredibly beautiful moment.” Little things matter.

How have you gained hope and been encouraged by seeing God use little things in your life or ministry? What little things might God be calling you to do?

Book Review: The Omnivore's Dilemma

In The Omnivore’s Dilemma Michael Pollan presents the history of four meals from their source to his plate. He follows the path corn takes from Iowa to his fast-food meal; he compares the journey of two organic meals, one purchased at Whole Foods and the other from a single farm; and he describes the hunting, gathering and growing he did to produce the fourth meal.  

Technique is a dominant theme in the book. Often it is explicitly on the surface. How could one not think of Jacques Ellul and technique when reading sentences like: “There are a great many reasons American cattle came off the grass and into the feedlot, and yet all of them finally come down to the same one: Our civilization and, increasingly, our food system are strictly organized on industrial lines. They prize consistency, mechanization, predictability, interchangeability, and economies of scale” (2006, p. 201).

Yet technique bashing is not Pollan’s primary aim. In fact, Joel Salatin, the farmer most praised in the Omnivore’s Dilemma, uses a lot of technique in doing sustainable agriculture. Here are just two examples. The schedule of what happens on a particular section of pasture is carefully controlled. Chickens follow cattle, and neither are allowed to graze too long; Salatin seeks optimum yield by allowing the grass to grow for a specific amount of time before bringing the cattle back. A super-lightweight portable electronic fence is a vital element in the whole operation.

Contrasting case studies in Pollan offer the opportunity to ask the question: what is the difference between the role of technique at an industrialized cattle feedlot operation and at Joel Salatin’s farm? In one we see what concerned Ellul, the rule of the spirit of technique and its focus on absolute efficiency driving every decision. In the other we see individual techniques and technologies used. Yet at times the most efficient approach is intentionally not taken because it conflicts with the overall goal of seeking to farm in a way that follows nature and leads to good relationships between the farmer and his neighbors and to health for all involved.

Pollan does an excellent job of not demonizing individual actors in the industrial food system. Although he does not present a conspiracy theory, the alienating elements are so strong and effective that at one point I thought: it is as if you asked a commission to make changes to our agricultural food system so that it would ruin our health, make us more oil dependent, damage the environment, and stress farmers in a myriad of ways including economic. There was, of course, no commission, but we do see these results.

As I read Pollan’s books I increasingly found myself reflecting on the biblical theme of the powers. What then does an ethic of freedom look like in relation to the food system today? Pollan provides information, concrete examples of alienation and freedom and he offers guidelines for consumers. A helpful start. We are called by Jesus Christ to go deeper and enabled by the cross and resurrection to do so.

The Power of Food

I stood nervously before the class. Had I gone too far this time? Sure, I had just given reasons why I had added the topic of food to the Discipleship and Ethics course, but I wondered if they were convincing. Did even I really think they were true, or was I grasping for reasons?

I assumed that most of the students were thinking, “Ok Mark, fine for you to be excited about this topic, but why are you forcing it on the rest of us?”

The previous summer my daughter Julia had recommended I read Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma. He led me to think about food and our food system in new ways. As I read, my conviction grew: things must change.

Filled with passion I decided, “we are going to talk about this in class.” My passion and conviction had only increased as I read other authors in preparation for the class. But now I stood insecurely in front of the class.

I told students that the topic of food and food production would provide a great way to review and explore in more depth other themes from the semester. Good words, but the reality was that I had not started the class planning by asking: “what would be a good topic to use for that purpose?” Rather I had asked, “How can I justify giving two class sessions to this food topic?” Then I thought of the idea of using it to review other themes. Was it true, or a flimsy justification?

As the students did their reading I asked them to:

Take note of how the following themes are evident; how do you better understand these themes through the lens of this issue and how do you better understand the food issue through the lens of these themes?

• Principalities and powers

• Technique

• Mammon

• Consumerism

• Television/Internet

It worked. They saw what I had seen and more. It provided a way to review and deepen.

“He made some comments about healthier food—the sort of thing I had expected. But mostly he reflected on relationship and the way family dynamics changed, positively, through their eating together.”

Even more significantly, however, was how, through students’ reflections, I realized that the significance and breadth of the topic were much greater than I had imagined. I remember the moment. I was reading a student’s reflection about how that week his family, rather than grabbing fast food, committed to make all their suppers and eat them together at the table. He made some comments about healthier food—the sort of thing I had expected. But mostly he reflected on relationship and the way family dynamics changed, positively, through their eating together.

I leaned back and said, “Wow, I did not imagine that coming from this class session.” That was just one of many responses that I had not imagined when I added it to the course. The justification I had given for adding it to the course was true--not flimsy at all. The nervousness and insecurity were a one-time experience—only occurring the first time I did the class. I now start that class session with confidence of its broad relevance and value.

I will copy below the action-reflection assignment that produced the above experience. Some of you have done this, most have not. I encourage all of you to do it this week—again or for the first time. Use the comment feature to share your reflections.

The action part of the assignment is to do something different than your normal routine in relation to food. This is very open ended. Some possibilities include: shop at a farmers’ market, prepare meals at home, get a trial CSA box for one week and prepare meals based on what is in it, visit a farm and discuss issues that have come up in this class, invite others to join you for a meal, have a meal be part of a Bible study or other church event, plant some vegetables, volunteer at a food bank, avoid fast food for the week, eat together as a family, etc. (you may already do some of these things, the idea is to do something that you do not normally do). Come to class prepared to report on what you did and reflect on what you observed and learned through the experience.