Pagan Festival Food and Environmental Ethics: A Critique and a Call for Change
All politics is personal, including environmental politics. This may seem counterintuitive to folks who see the environment as “out there,” as something separate from daily human life, but for those of us who understand that a wild nature bounds across our highways, lives in the cracks of our walls and even swims in our own guts, daily, personal decisions about lifestyle are fraught with eco-political meaning. The choices we make about energy use, transportation, diet and other basic needs demonstrate the extent to which we hold nature as sacred. I like to think of this as a politics of the wild – a political stance that views the inherent wildness of nature and humans as sacred. Living in accordance with the sacred sometimes puts us in conflict with the conditioning we inherit from mass culture, but if we design to stay true to our own instincts, our own wild nature, we eventually come into alignment with our truths. When we find ourselves willing to give in to what is convenient or inexpensive, we need to consider our motives: are we being directed by acute need (such as when an organic product is out of range for our budget) or by an unwillingness to change deep-seated and comfortable patterns? Furthermore, what do we do when a group to which we have affinity does not seem to live up to its stated environmental ethics?
I ask myself the first question frequently, and recently, I was challenged to consider the second. I feel that I am in a period of my life when I am being asked to walk my talk. If I believe in living a simpler, less wasteful life, then I must recycle and compost and reuse as much as I know how. This call to “earth-service,” as one might call it, pushes me to read more, learn more, be willing to do more -- to make more changes, as they seem necessary, despite the feelings of others and the traditions that keep us lock-step with the wasteful and mindless mainstream. On a recent trip to a popular and well-attended pagan festival in western Massachusetts, where I assumed that my consciousness about the environment, diet and consumption would be mirrored, I learned about the challenges of walking one’s talk while in community.
I’m talking here about the meal plan at the festival and about the lack of recycling/composting and conservation efforts made at this gathering. Truly, our bodies are the vessels of our sacred contract with nature. How else, then, but through our eating do we comingle more intimately with the productions of nature? There is a growing concern among American eaters that how we do business agriculturally affects everything from our own health, to our drinking water, to the rainforests (and the people who live in them), to our use of fuel and other environmental impacts. Writers such as Michael Pollan have documented the connections between the personal, the social and the environmental, calling for us to investigate the sources of our food and try to eat off the industrial agricultural grid as much as possible. Both our bodies and our environment, the literal, physical places in which we live, remind us of how we choose to manifest our relationship to the earth.
` I tend to assume that pagans – people who claim to espouse earth-centered belief systems – would be at the forefront of environmental activism, including and perhaps especially, when it comes to food and agriculture issues. I assume, perhaps erroneously, that a politics of the wild is a natural fit for earth-based religions. It makes sense that a group that claims to connect their own personal power magically to the powers of the earth and the Divine would be specifically and seriously interested with the energy – both caloric and karmic – of their food.
Unfortunately, I found that not all pagans believe that they are what they eat. I do not know the personal dietary choices of the individuals at the festival, but if the food service provided by the organizers of this event is any indication, some pagans cease to see their lives as a ritual act in honor of the earth as soon as the dinner bell rings.
The problem with the food plan was that it arbitrarily lumped the human diet – a diverse, omnivorous beast in its own right – into two equally unhealthy categories. The categories were “full” and “vegetarian.” Because I had taken the place of a friend, I was signed up for the full meal plan. I didn’t think this would be a problem; I don’t object to meat, and will eat it if it is sustainably raised. However, since most meat isn’t and since it’s often hard to get this information, I am practically a vegetarian (although I do enjoy fish and seafood). I guess I would call myself an “ethical flexitarian.” I figured that I would eat lots of whole grains (oatmeal or cereal for breakfast, rice or another grain for the other meals), salad and vegetables and then try to make sure I got some protein – I figured there would be eggs, beans, nuts, cheese, and tofu or other soy products at most meals.
When I got there, I was told that the vegetarian option was for the people on the vegetarian meal plan only. Okay. I don’t want to take food out of someone’s mouth, and since I’m not a “hard-core” vegetarian, I didn’t think it would be such an awful thing if I had to eat off the full plan. I figured I would have enough choices for the amount of money I paid to at least keep any meat consumption to an occasional side dish experience. I mean, it’s not as though they’re going to force me to eat meat at every meal, right?
Wrong. Unless a person ate the vegetarian meal, the full meal always consisted of meat. Sure, one could eat oatmeal, cereal and yogurt for breakfast, but lunch and dinner were meat-centric. But the vegetarian option (which I occasionally “stole” from since no one appeared to be eating it anyway) wasn’t much better. But for my morning oatmeal (overcooked, gelatinous, obviously cheap quality), whole grains were not served with any consistency. There was white rice (only brown rice is a whole grain; white rice undergoes processing that removes the healthful fiber) and some corn chips and corn bread, but these are not whole grains (the chips might have been, but, hey, they’re CHIPS; cornbread might have been partially whole grain, but there was no information about that). The carbohydrates were largely provided by refined breads and pastas – processed foods that most vegetarians and other health-conscious individuals try to avoid or eat in small quantities. There was a breaded and fried eggplant parmesan that I was “forbidden” to eat (and didn’t) and a processed veggie burger (that I “stole” because I refused to eat industrial hamburgers). I ate a lot of salad, but the salad bar was comprised of the rather generic choices one usually associates with the “side” salad: lettuce (which they ran out of), tomatoes, assorted veggies, occasionally some kidney beans (but without a whole grain to combine them with, their protein is largely inaccessible). The best vegetarian choice was a three-bean chili, served appropriately with cornbread. It was yummy, but that was one meal out of fourteen.
One truly awful example of the organizers’ utter ignorance of vegetarian dietary needs and habits came in the form of the “Phake Phried Phish” made from tofu and cooked to approximate the taste of processed, low-quality fish sticks. I ate the real fish (which smelled bad). When will people realize that most vegetarians do not bother with “fake” meat substitutes, and that they rather eat grains, vegetables, legumes, eggs and cheese? Y’know, food.
In addition to the problems of the two-party system as it were, was the fact that all choices, meat or veg, pulled heavily from industrial agriculture and processed foods. Never was there any indication that any food was organic or locally produced. For instance, the beef that was served: was it grass-fed? Sustainably or humanely raised? Were the eggs free range? Was the milk hormone and antibiotic-free? Judging from the quality and from the cartons I perused, I’d say no effort was made to procure animal products that reflect what should be a serious concern for the pagan community. Adding to my frustration is the fact that this event takes place in western Massachusetts, a rich landscape of farmland, much of it family-owned, organic or sustainable. There are 7,691 farms in Massachusetts, with 522 farms in Berkshire County alone. Organic farms have dramatically increased in Massachusetts over the past couple of years; there are now 295 registered organic farms in the state (See “Massachusetts Farmland Information and Statistics” and the “Massachusetts Agricultural Facts and Statistics” page as mass.gov). Shouldn’t we be supporting our local agriculture and economy? I find it unbelievable that as a community, we came together to “honor the land” through our fertility rites and maypole dancing, and we gave no business to the stewards of the land we were standing on.
As I indicated earlier, many meals were based on refined flours: breads, pasta, cake, rolls, buns, etc. Where there’s refined flour, there’s often refined and processed sugars (high fructose corn syrup is often added to things like hamburger buns to keep them soft and, obviously, to sweeten them). I couldn’t understand the thinking behind such a meal plan: why would an organization bring people together to do intensives and workshops on healing, magic, and energy work, encourage them to engage in late-night fire dancing, require them to walk everywhere across a large, spread out, somewhat hilly campground and then feed them processed junk that is likely to lessen their energy and not improve it?
On top of all this, there was no composting of food waste (since the organizers do not own the land, I understand that that might be tricky, but there are portable compost containers and there are farmers in this community who would gladly take free compost material). Even worse, there was no recycling that I saw. This is simply unacceptable.
On the last night of this festival, there is a feast. For many, it is the focal point of the festival, a hearty celebration of the fruitfulness of the land. Certainly, the food choices were varied and abundant in comparison to the fare offered during the rest of the festival. The cured salmon was outstanding – perhaps the best I’ve ever had. There was also a nice selection of grilled vegetables: asparagus, eggplant, portabella mushrooms, sweet onions, etc. I enjoyed the hummus and eggplant dips. By far, the meat service was the main attraction; there was a constant line, which I didn’t think could possibly be worth waiting in (not when my favorite foods were so accessible). The meat and salmon were both specially prepared and carved to order. Clearly, the organizers had gone to some effort and expense to procure such rich and tasty food.
But . . . if there was money enough for the foods at this feast, then why couldn’t some of it be earmarked for improvements across the week of the festival? It seems to me to be a waste of resources to serve such abundance on the last night when the inevitable leftovers will be plentiful . . . and wasted.
Of course, the likely response from the organizers will be that improvements cannot be made to the meal plan without raising the price, which might make the event cost-prohibitive, especially to the many families with small children. No one wants that. But I question this excuse. The meal plan for roughly four and a half days of food costs about $200; the festival registration is another $200 (covering the rental fee, workshops, organizers’ costs, etc.). That’s quite a bit more than another festival in Massachusetts that I’ve been to that charges $240 for 5+ days and that’s including everything – workshops, meals, snacks, rental. At this other festival, the food is excellent, mostly vegetarian and organic, local and/or wild. While the number of attendees is much lower, perhaps making it easier to cook for them, Festival A takes in almost twice as much money per person; it should be able to provide a better experience for the hundreds of folks who are shelling out $400 to camp in the woods and eat in a cafeteria.
To this, let’s add the fact that facilitators – the teachers, shamanic practitioners, priestesses and scholars who run the intensives and workshops – are not paid for their services and must pay the same fees as everyone else. That means that they are providing a service for nothing, except for the hope that people will buy their books and cds, or sign up for their classes elsewhere. No doubt, these folks are offering their services out of love for the community, but I believe they should be honored in ways that are both magical and practical. At the other festivals, instructors are offered reduced rates.
Although I am disappointed by what I have seen, my effort here is not to denigrate or discourage folks from attending this festival. I might return. But I won’t eat that food; several friends of mine also bring their own food and avoid the cafeteria. Rather, I would like to encourage the organizers and others to think of some creative ways to improve the food plan in order to bring it into better alignment with our love of nature. I have a few suggestions:
· Seek business and donations from local producers and farmers, especially among those who might be in attendance at the gathering itself. I know there were some farmers present.
· Actively participate in the local economy; establishing relationships with local farmers can be good for keeping costs low and for improving public perception of pagans.
· Insist upon recycling. Refuse to use throw-away plates and utensils. Insist that attendees bring their own mugs.
· Encourage attendees to view meat as a side dish, making it less costly to provide it. Not every meal requires meat, anyway.
· Grains and dried legumes purchased in bulk are cheaper than canned and processed foods because they are more nutritious and filling.
· Educate the cooking staff about food combinations for ALL, not just vegetarians.
· Make healthy choices attractive, colorful and delicious.
· Make use of the wild edibles in the area.
· Offer intensives and workshops in eco-conscious eating and cooking, macrobiotics, ayurveda, and foraging to encourage earth-friendly choices and lifestyle changes.
· Unhinge from antiquated, arbitrary views of eating (meat vs. plants). As omnivores, humans thrive on a variety of plant and animal foods.
· Be the change you wish to see in the world. Embrace the politics of the wild.
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