This comes from Fred Depies of N.E. Wisc. Foodshed, by way of the
Wisc. Green Party listserv. I hope it contributes in some way to this
discussion. When I was camped in the Siskiyou wilderness along with
thousands of other hippie squatters back in the early '70s, working on
a hops farm, I stopped at a local farm every time I could and got a
quart of raw milk. Other than the raw goat's milk from Chao Grrl's
farm in Rapids, haven't had any since.
It's all a matter of perspective. It's the classic corporate-vs.-
little guy battlefield. When you buy some frozen beef patties at the
Mal Wart, perhaps you're buying parts of 16 different steers, all
ground together in some grinding operation run by Cargill or some
corporation like that. You're told they're safe, you take it on
faith, and you are safe--until that batch that happened to have
special feedlot-evolved E. coli and you wind up hospitalized and
permanently disabled...
b.g.
------------------
Drinking problems
I drink raw milk (sold illegally on the underground market)
http://www.grist.org/article/2009-11-03-i-drink-raw-milk-sold-illegally-on-the-underground-market
From Joel Salatin’s foreword to The Raw Milk Revolution: Behind
America’s Emerging Battle Over Food Rights by David Gumpert.
I grew up on raw milk from our own Guernsey cows that our family hand-
milked twice a day. We made yogurt, ice cream, butter, and cottage
cheese. All through high school in the early 1970s, I sold our
homemade yogurt, butter, buttermilk, and cottage cheese at the Curb
Market on Saturday mornings. This was a precursor to today’s farmer’s
markets.
In those days, the Virginia Department of Agriculture had a memorandum
of agreement with the Curb Market that as long as vendors belonged to
an Agricultural Extension organization such as Extension Homemaker’s
Clubs or 4-H, producers could bring value-added products to market
without inspection and visits from the food police. The government
agents assumed that anyone participating in the extension programs
would be getting the latest, greatest food science and therefore
conform to the most modern procedural protocols, which created its own
protection.
As the Virginia Slims commercial says, “We’ve come a long way, baby.”
These conciliatory overtures to maintain healthy and vibrant local
food economies exist no more. Today I can’t sell any of those things
at a farmer’s market, and even if I take eggs some bureaucrat will
come along with a pocket thermometer and, without warrant or warning,
reach over and poke it through my display eggs to see if they are at
the proper temperature. If they aren’t, no amount of pleading that
those are for display only can dissuade the petulant public servant
from demanding that I dump those display eggs in a trash can on the
spot. I don’t sell at farmer’s markets anymore.
In 1975, when I graduated from high school and began plotting my
farming career, I figured out that I could hand-milk ten cows, sell
the milk to neighbors at regular retail prices, and be a full-time
farmer. This was before most people had ever heard the word organic.
But selling milk was illegal. In those days, we didn’t know about herd
shares or Community Supported Agriculture or even limited liability
corporations.
As a result, I went to work for a local newspaper and became the
proverbial part-time farmer—working in town to support the farming
passion. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over the fact that the
government arbitrarily determined to make it very difficult for me to
become a farmer. That seems un-American, doesn’t it?
Isn’t it curious that at this juncture in our culture’s evolution, we
collectively believe Twinkies, Lucky Charms, and Coca-Cola are safe
foods, but compost-grown tomatoes and raw milk are not? With
legislation moving through Congress demanding that all agricultural
practices be “science-based,” I believe our food system is at Wounded
Knee. I do not believe that is an overstatement.
Make no mistake, as the local, heritage, humane, ecological,
sustainable—call it what you will (anything but organic since the
government now owns that word)—food system takes flight, the
industrial food system is fighting back. With a vengeance. By
demonizing, criminalizing, and marginalizing the integrity food
movement, the entrenched powers that be hope to derail this
revolution.
This industrial food experiment, historically speaking, is completely
abnormal. It’s not normal to eat things you can’t spell or pronounce.
It’s not normal to eat things you can’t make in your kitchen. Indeed,
if everything in today’s science-based supermarket that was
unavailable before 1900 were removed, hardly anything would be left.
And as more people realize that this grand experiment in ingesting
material totally foreign to our three-trillion-member internal
community of intestinal microflora and -fauna is really biologically
aberrant behavior, they are opting out of industrial fare. Indeed, to
call it a food revolution is accurate.
But revolutions are always met with prejudice and entrenched paradigms
from the about-to-be-unseated lords of the status quo. The realignment
of power, trust, money, and commerce that the local heritage-based
food movement represents inherently gives birth to a backlash. By the
time of Wounded Knee, Native Americans no longer jeopardized the
American reality.
But to many Americans, these Natives had to be crushed, extinguished,
put on reservations. Would America have been stronger if European
leaders had listened to wisdom about herbal remedies and consensus
building? The answer is yes. But to Americans, the red man was just a
barbarian because he didn’t govern by parliamentary procedure or ride
in horse-drawn stagecoaches along cobblestone streets. In fact, he was
considered a threat to America. Just like giving slaves their freedom
in 1850. Just like imbibing alcohol in 1925. Just like homeschooling
in 1980.
The ultimate test of a tyrannical society or a free society is how it
responds to its lunatic fringe. A strong, self-confident, free society
tolerates and enjoys the fringe people who come up with zany notions.
Indeed, most people later labeled geniuses were dubbed whacko by their
contemporary mainstream society. So what does a culture do with
weirdos who actually believe they have a right to choose what to feed
their internal three-trillion-member community?
The only reason the right to food choice was not guaranteed in the
Bill of Rights is because the Founders of America could not have
envisioned a day when selling a glass of raw milk or homemade pickles
to a neighbor would be outlawed. At the time, such a thought was as
strange as levitation.
Indeed, what good is the freedom to own guns, worship, or assemble if
we don’t have the freedom to eat the proper fuel to energize us to
shoot, pray, and preach? Is not freedom to choose our food at least as
fundamental a right as the freedom to worship?
How would we feel if we had to get a license from bureaucrats to start
a church? After all, beliefs can be pretty damaging things. And
charlatans certainly do exist. Better protect people from those
charlatans—bad preachers and raw milk advocates.
But what does a society do when the charlatans are in charge? In
charge of the regulating government agencies. In charge of the
research institutions. In charge of the food system.
That is a real conundrum, because if health depends on opting out of
what the charlatans think is safe, we are forced into civil
disobedience. When the public no longer trusts its public servants,
people begin taking charge of their own health and welfare. And that
is exactly what is driving the local heritage food movement.
Lots of folks realize they don’t want industrialists fooling around
with something as basic as food. People like me don’t trust Monsanto.
We don’t trust the Food and Drug Administration. We don’t trust the
Department of Agriculture. We don’t trust Tyson. And we don’t think
it’s safe to be dependent on food that sits for a month in the belly
of a Chinese merchant marine vessel.
This clash of choice versus prohibition brings us to today’s Wounded
Knee of food. The local heritage-based food movement represents
everything that is good and noble about farming and food culture. It
is about decentralized farms. Pastoral livestock systems. Symbiotic
multi-speciation. Companion planting. Earthworms. It is about
community-appropriate techniques and scale. Aesthetically and
aromatically sensual romantic farming. Re-embedding the butcher,
baker, and candlestick maker in the village. And ultimately about
health-giving food grown more productively on less land than
industrial models.
Certainly some of this clash represents the difference between
nurturing and dominating. The local heritage food movement—the raw
milk movement—is all about respecting and honoring indigenous wisdom.
The industrial mind-set worships techno-glitzy gadgetry and views
heritage food advocates as simpletons and Luddites. Or dangerous
criminals.
In this wonderful exposé The Raw Milk Revolution, David Gumpert
employs the best journalistic investigative techniques to examine this
clash from the raw milk battlefront. Be assured that the same
mentality exists toward homemade pickles, home-cured meats, and
cottage industry in general. The entrepreneurial spirit is alive and
well in the food system, but it is harassed out of existence by
capricious, malicious, and prejudiced government agents who really do
believe they are doing society a favor by denying food choice to
Americans.
The same curative properties espoused by raw milk advocates exist in a
host of other food products, from homemade pound cake and potpies to
pepperoni and pastured chicken. Real food is what developed our
internal intestinal community. And it sure didn’t develop on food from
Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations and genetically modified
potatoes that are partly human and partly tomato. Long after human
cleverness has run its course, compost piles will still grow the best
tomatoes and grazing cows will still yield one of nature’s perfect
foods: raw milk.
One of our former apprentices has just started a ten-cow herd-share
arrangement with our customers. Here is a young, entrepreneurial, go-
get-‘em farmer embarking on his dream, serving people who are enjoying
their dream of acquiring unadulterated milk. Can any arrangement, any
relationship-between farmer and cow, cow and pasture, customer and
producer be more honorable, respectable, open, and trusting?
Everything about this is righteous, including respecting the
individual enough to let her decide what to eat and what to feed her
children.
Let the revolution continue.
* Comments
Joel Salatin is the owner of Polyface Farm — which was featured in
Michael Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dilemma and the documentary film
Food, Inc. He is also author of the book Everything I want to do is
illegal: War stories from the local food front.