Gottleib and Joshi's chapter on "Accessing Food," as a function of food justice and injustice at large, was, to me, the most relevant reading pertaining to planners. It especially important to understand the formation of what has become known as food justice, but for practicing planners it is arguably most important to devise methods to create access and opportunity to food. In doing so, there are many considerations, including the transportation definition of "access"--i.e. how to physically reach something and provide opportunity through movement by walking, bicycling, transit, or personal vehicle. Then there is also the definition of "access" in terms of social standards. That is, integrating equitable food opportunities with the existing culture and economic status of an area. Otherwise, a mismatch will occur where residents may have a source of healthy foods, but the price point is out of reach.
Although as planners we might not be planning for grocery stores very often, we have to consider the effects of any kind of new development--commercial or residential--on the food system at large. Does the proposed development enhance or limit access to existing or planned groceries? Keeping track of all of the moving parts of our built environments is a necessary holistic exercise in any form of planning. Hence the importance of this specific chapter to the planning field.
In reading Gottlieb and Joshi's analysis, it occurred to me that although we have food deserts, food swamps, and "grocery gaps," we do not have any form of food access index that the authors allude to in the text (p. 40-41). They speak of a pseudo-index performed by researchers in Los Angeles that was very specific to their research. Perhaps an all-encompassing index can be formed with this as a starting point. Cities and neighborhoods can be assigned a score that standardized value based on the distance needed to travel to access healthy foods, the number of stores in that particular area, etc. While mapping food deserts has done basically just that, by assigning a value to each location allows for an easier comparison of areas. Say, Chicago is a 68 on the FAI Scale, while Los Angeles is an 81, to reflect that Los Angeles' food crisis is more severe than Chicago's. A unified measure of this phenomenon could improve reporting on food justice and become a widespread tool for researchers, planners, politicians, and consumers the like.
I'd like to bring attention to one additional point made by Gottlieb and Joshi in this particular chapter. In the section "Supersizing Supermarkets," the authors begin using the term "food retail," which feels like a repetition of the broader food systems theme throughout the course that has stuck with me the most. From week to week, with each reading, discussion, and reflection, the content seems to circle around the corporatization of our food system. I think that by identifying the phenomenon with the term "food retail" does a great justice to what the system actually is. Food, which is a substantive, necessary form of human survival, has transitioned from necessity to artisan to manufactured--in terms of quality and production. One of the best examples I can think of Wal-Mart, who has juxtaposed very unlikely things under one roof and applying the same business model and product treatment to both. It is the crux of the commercialization of food, and epitomizes the preponderance of today's broken food systems.
JK,
ReplyDeleteRelating the reading back specifically to planning was a helpful exercise, particularly your discussion of transportation access. Transportation planners are taught that while "mobility" and "accessibility" are closely intertwined, there are key differences between them that strongly relate to food and food justice. "Mobility" refers to an individual's ability to move through the transportation system, and planners have long focused on increasing individuals' mobility. This has resulted in a larger number of people having access to cars, seen as the ultimate vehicle (yes pun intended) to deliver the greatest mobility to the greatest number of people. Less people are "mobile" via transit, walking, or biking (but that is a different discussion!) "Accessibility," on the other hand, refers to an individual's ability to reach destinations within their transportation system. By relying on the automobile as the main form of transportation, planners may have improved MOBILITY for some (not all!) but have greatly reduced accessibility, since destinations in an automobile-centered society are spread out.
What does this mean for food justice? By assuming that mobility=accessibility, and that everyone in an auto-dominated landscape has fairly equal mobility, we have made destinations, like supermarkets, corner shops, and other sources of fresh, healthy food, out of reach for those who do not have reliable access to the car. I really think food access, as well as being a social and political issue, is intrinsically a transportation/land use issue as well.
Taylor, I wholeheartedly agree with your final sentiments; food justice is inherently a transportation and land use issue. (Sidebar, I imagine that living in an actual big city (like NYC) must be so difficult to do any kind of shopping. Carrying all of your (reusable) bags on and off the subway and figuring out how to not drop anything has to be a real pain.) I love that you included a discussion on equity and equality, especially after our class discussion yesterday. Planners not only have to juggle all the moving parts of a proposed development in terms of the surrounding area compatibility, consistency with the comprehensive plan's goals, and the AICP code of ethics, but we also have to balance mobility and accessibility as you so succinctly described above. Enhancing mobility may be good for one group, but further disenfranchise another from our ultimate goal. Characteristics of food deserts are by nature rooted in transportation. Analyzing an area for its services is often done by examining what opportunities are within a quarter-mile radius of a bus or transit stop. Having proximity to a transit stop may be a great opportunity to connect people to food, but its more ergonomic than just that. Imagine an elderly woman who trekked to the nearest store for fresh foods and now she's standing under a metal sign holding bags of groceries in the sweltering Florida heat. Bus stops need benches and a porte cochere. Sometimes we forgot or even purposefully leave out the most human aspects of moving through the day, and that only affects people who need access the most. Interesting.
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