Mike:
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Steve
*Whiskey & Gunpowder
By Mark Dowie*
November 3, 2009
Originally Published in /Guernica/
*Will There Be Food Among America's Ruins?*
Were I an aspiring farmer in search of fertile land to buy and plow, I
would seriously consider moving to Detroit. There is open land, fertile
soil, ample water, willing labor, and a desperate demand for decent
food. And there is plenty of community will behind the idea of turning
the capital of American industry into an agrarian paradise. In fact, of
all the cities in the world, Detroit may be best positioned to become
the world's first one hundred percent food self-sufficient city.
Right now, Detroit is as close as any city in America to becoming a food
desert, not just another metropolis like Chicago, Philadelphia, or
Cleveland with a bunch of small- and medium-sized food deserts scattered
about, but nearly a full-scale, citywide food desert. (A food desert is
defined by those who study them as a locality from which healthy food is
more than twice as far away as unhealthy food, or where the distance to
a bag of potato chips is half the distance to a head of lettuce.) About
80 percent of the residents of Detroit buy their food at the one
thousand convenience stores, party stores, liquor stores, and gas
stations in the city. There is such a dire shortage of protein in the
city that Glemie Dean Beasley, a seventy-year-old retired truck driver,
is able to augment his Social Security by selling raccoon carcasses
(twelve dollars apiece, serves a family of four) from animals he has
treed and shot at undisclosed hunting grounds around the city. Pelts are
ten dollars each. Pheasants are also abundant in the city and are
occasionally harvested for dinner.
Detroiters who live close enough to suburban borders to find nearby
groceries carrying fresh fruit, meat, and vegetables are a small
minority of the population. The health consequences of food deserts are
obvious and dire. Diabetes, heart failure, hypertension, and obesity are
chronic in Detroit, and life expectancy is measurably lower than in any
American city.
Not so long ago, there were five produce-carrying grocery chains ---
Kroger, A&P, Farmer Jack, Wrigley, and Meijer --- competing vigorously
for the Detroit food market. Today there are none. Nor is there a single
WalMart or Costco in the city. Specialty grocer Trader Joe's just turned
down an attractive offer to open an outlet in relatively safe and
prosperous midtown Detroit; a rapidly declining population of
chronically poor consumers is not what any retailer is after. High
employee turnover, loss from theft, and cost of security are also cited
by chains as reasons to leave or avoid Detroit. So it is unlikely
grocers will ever return, despite the tireless flirtations of City Hall,
the Chamber of Commerce, and the Michigan Food and Beverage Association.
There is a fabulous once-a-week market, the largest of its kind in the
country, on the east side that offers a wide array of fresh meat, eggs,
fruit, and vegetables. But most people I saw there on an early April
Saturday arrived in well polished SUVs from the suburbs. So despite the
Eastern Market, in-city Detroiters are still left with the challenge of
finding new ways to feed themselves a healthy meal.
One obvious solution is to grow their own, and the urban backyard garden
boom that is sweeping the nation has caught hold in Detroit,
particularly in neighborhoods recently settled by immigrants from
agrarian cultures of Laos and Bangladesh, who are almost certain to
become major players in an agrarian Detroit. Add to that the five
hundred or so twenty-by-twenty-foot community plots and a handful of
three- to ten-acre farms cultured by church and non-profit groups, and
during its four-month growing season, Detroit is producing somewhere
between 10 and 15 percent of its food supply inside city limits --- more
than most American cities, but nowhere near enough to allay the food
desert problem. About 3 percent of the groceries sold at the Eastern
Market are homegrown; the rest are brought into Detroit by a handful of
peri-urban farmers and about one hundred and fifty freelance food
dealers who buy their produce from Michigan farms between thirty and one
hundred miles from the city and truck it into the market.
There are more visionaries in Detroit than in most Rust-Belt cities, and
thus more visions of a community rising from the ashes of a moribund
industry to become, if not an urban paradise, something close to it. The
most intriguing visionaries in Detroit, at least the ones who drew me to
the city, were those who imagine growing food among the ruins --- chard
and tomatoes on vacant lots (there are over 103,000 in the city, sixty
thousand owned by the city), orchards on former school grounds,
mushrooms in open basements, fish in abandoned factories, hydroponics in
bankrupt department stores, livestock grazing on former golf courses,
high-rise farms in old hotels, vermiculture, permaculture, hydroponics,
aquaponics, waving wheat where cars were once test-driven, and winter
greens sprouting inside the frames of single-story bungalows stripped of
their skin and re-sided with Plexiglas --- a homemade greenhouse. Those
are just a few of the agricultural technologies envisioned for the urban
prairie Detroit has become.
There are also proposals on the mayor's desk to rezone vast sections
A-something ("A" for agriculture), and a proposed master plan that would
move the few people residing in lonely, besotted neighborhoods into
Detroit's nine loosely defined villages and turn the rest of the city
into open farmland. An American Institute of Architects panel concludes
that all Detroit's residents could fit comfortably in fifty square miles
of land. Much of the remaining ninety square miles could be farmed. Were
that to happen, and a substantial investment was made in greenhouses,
vertical farms, and aquaponic systems, Detroit could be producing
protein and fibre 365 days a year and soon become the first and only
city in the world to produce close to 100 percent of its food supply
within its city limits. No semis hauling groceries, no out-of-town truck
farmers, no food dealers. And no chain stores need move back. Everything
eaten in the city could be grown in the city and distributed to locally
owned and operated stores and co-ops. I met no one in Detroit who
believed that was impossible, but only a few who believed it would
happen. It could, but not without a lot of political and community will.
There are a few cities in the world that grow and provide about half
their total food supply within their urban and peri-urban regions ---
Dar es Salaam, Tanzania; Havana, Cuba; Hanoi, Vietnam; Dakar, Senegal;
Rosario, Argentina; Cagayan de Oro in the Philippines; and, my personal
favorite, Cuenca, Equador --- all of which have much longer growing
seasons than Detroit. However, those cities evolved that way, almost
unintentionally. They are, in fact, about where Detroit was
agriculturally around one hundred and fifty years ago. Half of them will
almost surely drop under 50 percent sufficiency within the next two
decades as industry subsumes cultivated land to build factories (à la
China). Because of its unique situation, Detroit could come close to
being 100 percent self-sufficient.
First, the city lies on one hundred and forty square miles of former
farmland. Manhattan, Boston, and San Francisco could be placed inside
the borders of Detroit with room to spare, and the population is about
the same as the smallest of those cities, San Francisco: eight hundred
thousand. And that number is still declining from a high of two million
in the mid-nineteen fifties. Demographers expect Detroit's population to
level off somewhere between five hundred thousand and six hundred
thousand by 2025. Right now there is about forty square miles of
unoccupied open land in the city, the area of San Francisco, and that
landmass could be doubled by moving a few thousand people out of
hazardous firetraps into affordable housing in the eight villages. As I
drove around the city, I saw many full-sized blocks with one, two, or
three houses on them, many already burned out and abandoned. The ones
that weren't would make splendid farmhouses.
As Detroit was built on rich agricultural land, the soil beneath the
city is fertile and arable. Certainly some of it is contaminated with
the wastes of heavy industry, but not so badly that it's beyond
remediation. In fact, phyto-remediation, using certain plants to remove
toxic chemicals permanently from the soil, is already practiced in parts
of the city. And some of the plants used for remediation can be readily
converted to biofuels. Others can be safely fed to livestock.
Leading the way in Detroit's soil remediation is Malik Yakini, owner of
the Black Star Community Book Store and founder of the Detroit Black
Community Food Security Network. Yakini and his colleagues begin the
remediation process by removing abandoned house foundations and toxic
debris from vacated industrial sites. Often that is all that need be
done to begin farming. Throw a little compost on the ground, turn it in,
sow some seeds, and water it. Water in Detroit is remarkably clean and
plentiful.
Although Detroiters have been growing produce in the city since its days
as an eighteenth-century French trading outpost, urban farming was given
a major boost in the nineteen eighties by a network of African-American
elders calling themselves the "Gardening Angels." As migrants from the
rural South, where many had worked as small farmers and field hands,
they brought agrarian skills to vacant lots and abandoned industrial
sites of the city, and set out to reconnect their descendants, children
of asphalt, to the Earth, and teach them that useful work doesn't
necessarily mean getting a job in a factory.
Thirty years later, Detroit has an eclectic mix of agricultural systems,
ranging from three-foot window boxes growing a few heads of lettuce to a
large-scale farm run by The Catherine Ferguson Academy, a home and
school for pregnant girls that not only produces a wide variety of
fruits and vegetables, but also raises chickens, geese, ducks, bees,
rabbits, and milk goats.
Across town, Capuchin Brother Rick Samyn manages a garden that not only
provides fresh fruits and vegetables to city soup kitchens, but also
education to neighborhood children. There are about eighty smaller
community gardens scattered about the city, more and more of them
raising farm animals alongside the veggies. At the moment, domestic
livestock is forbidden in the city, as are beehives. But the ordinance
against them is generally ignored and the mayor's office assures me that
repeal of the bans are imminent.
About five hundred small plots have been created by an international
organization called Urban Farming, founded by acclaimed songwriter Taja
Sevelle. Realizing that Detroit was the most agriculturally promising of
the fourteen cities in five countries where Urban Farming now exists,
Sevelle moved herself and her organization's headquarters there last
year. Her goal is to triple the amount of land under cultivation in
Detroit every year. All food grown by Urban Farming is given free to the
poor. According to Urban Farming's Detroit manager, Michael Travis, that
won't change.
Larger scale, for-profit farming is also on the drawing board. Financial
services entrepreneur John Hantz has asked the city to let him farm a
seventy-acre parcel he owns close to the Eastern Market. If that is
approved and succeeds in producing food for the market, and profit for
Hantz Farms, Hantz hopes to create more large-scale commercial farms
around the city. Not everyone in Detroit's agricultural community is
happy with the scale or intentions of Hantz's vision, but it seems
certain to become part of the mix. And unemployed people will be put to
work.
Any agro-economist will tell you that urban farming creates jobs. Even
without local production, the food industry creates three dollars of job
growth for every dollar spent on food --- a larger multiplier effect
than almost any other product or industry. Farm a city, and that figure
jumps over five dollars. To a community with persistent two-digit
unemployment, that number is manna. But that's only one economic
advantage of farming a city.
The average food product purchased in a U.S. chain store has traveled
thirteen hundred miles, and about half of it has spoiled en route,
despite the fact that it was bioengineered to withstand transport. The
total mileage in a three-course American meal approaches twenty-five
thousand. The food seems fresh because it has been refrigerated in
transit, adding great expense and a huge carbon footprint to each item,
and subtracting most of the minerals and vitamins that would still be
there were the food grown close by.
I drove around the city one day with Dwight Vaughter and Gary Wozniak. A
soft-spoken African American, Vaughter is CEO of SHAR, a self-help drug
rehab program with about two hundred residents recovering from various
addictions in an abandoned hospital. Wozniak, a bright, gregarious
Polish American, who, unlike most of his fellow Poles, has stayed in
Detroit, is the program's financial director. Vaughter and Wozniak are
trying to create a labor-intensive economic base for their program, with
the conviction that farming and gardening are therapeutic. They have
their eyes on two thousand acres in one of the worst sections of the
city, not far from the Eastern Market. They estimate that there are
about four thousand people still living in the area, most of them in
houses that should have been condemned and razed years ago. There are
also six churches in the section, offering some of the best
ecclesiastical architecture in the city.
I tried to imagine what this weedy, decrepit, trash-ridden urban dead
zone would look like under cultivation. First, I removed the overhead
utilities and opened the sky a little. Then I tore up the useless grid
of potholed streets and sidewalks and replaced them with a long winding
road that would take vegetables to market and bring parishioners to
church. I wrecked and removed most of the houses I saw, leaving a few
that somehow held some charm and utility. Of course, I left the churches
standing, as I did a solid red brick school, boarded up a decade ago
when the student body dropped to a dozen or so bored and unstimulated
deadbeats. It could be reopened as an urban ag-school, or SHAR's
residents could live there. I plowed and planted rows of every
imaginable vegetable, created orchards and raised beds, set up beehives
and built chicken coops, rabbit warrens, barns, and corrals for sheep,
goats, and horses. And of course, I built sturdy hoop houses, rows of
them, heated by burning methane from composting manure and ag-waste to
keep frost from winter crops. The harvest was tended by former drug
addicts who like so many before them found salvation in growing things
that keep their brethren alive.
That afternoon I visited Grace Lee Boggs, a ninety-three-year-old
Chinese-American widow who has been envisioning farms in Detroit for
decades. Widow of legendary civil rights activist Jimmy Boggs, Grace
preserves his legacy with the energy of ten activists. The main question
on my mind as I climbed the steps to her modest east side home, now a
center for community organizers, was whether or not Detroit possesses
the community and political will to scale its agriculture up to 100
percent food self-sufficiency. Yes, Grace said to the former, and no to
the latter. But she really didn't believe that political will was that
essential.
"The food riots erupting around the world challenge us to rethink our
whole approach to food," she said, but as communities, not as bodies
politic. "Today's hunger crisis is rooted in the industrialized food
system which destroys local food production and forces nations like
Kenya, which only twenty-five years ago was food self-sufficient, to
import 80 percent of its food because its productive land is being used
by global corporations to grow flowers and luxury foods for export." The
same thing happened to Detroit, she says, which was once before a food
self-sufficient community.
I asked her whether the city government would support large-scale urban
agriculture. "City government is irrelevant," she answered. "Positive
change, leaps forward in the evolution of humankind do not start with
governments. They start right here in our living rooms and kitchens. We
are the leaders we are looking for."
All the decaying Rust-Belt cities in the American heartland have at one
time or another imagined themselves transformed into some sort of
exciting new post-industrial urban model. And some have begun the
process of transformation. Now it's Detroit's turn, Boggs believes. It
could follow the examples of Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and Buffalo, and
become a slightly recovered metropolis, another pathetic industrial
has-been still addicted to federal stimulus, marginal jobs, and the
corporate food system. Or it could make a complete break and become, if
not a paradise, well, at least a pretty good place to live.
Not everyone in Detroit is enthusiastic about farming. Many urbanites
believe that structures of some sort or another belong on urban land.
And a lot of those people just elected David Bing mayor of the city.
Bing's opponent, acting mayor Ken Cockrel, was committed to expanding
urban agriculture in Detroit. Bing has not said he's opposed to it, but
his background as a successful automotive parts manufacturer will likely
have him favoring a future that maintains the city's primary nickname:
Motor City.
And there remains a lasting sense of urbanity in Detroit. "This is a
city, not a farm," remarked one skeptic of urban farming. She's right,
of course. A city is more than a farm. But that's what makes Detroit's
rural future exciting. Where else in the world can one find a
one-hundred-and-forty-square-mile agricultural community with four major
league sports teams, two good universities, the fifth largest art museum
in the country, a world-class hospital, and headquarters of a now-global
industry, that while faltering, stands ready to green their products and
keep three million people in the rest of the country employed?
Despite big auto's crash, "Detroit" is still synonymous with the
industry. When people ask, "What will become of Detroit?" most of them
still mean, "What will become of GM, Ford, and Chrysler?" If Detroit the
city is to survive in any form, it should probably get past that
question and begin searching for ways to put its most promising assets,
land and people, to productive use again by becoming America's first
modern agrarian metropolis.
Contemporary Detroit gave new meaning to the word "wasteland." It still
stands as a monument to a form of land abuse that became endemic to
industrial America --- once-productive farmland, teaming with wildlife,
was paved and poisoned for corporate imperatives. Now the city offers
itself as an opportunity to restore some of its agrarian tradition, not
fifty miles from downtown in the countryside where most of us believe
that tradition was originally established, but a short bicycle ride
away. American cities once grew much of their food within walking
distance of most of their residents. In fact, in the eighteenth and
early nineteenth centuries, most early American cities, Detroit
included, looked more like the English countryside, with a cluster of
small villages interspersed with green open space. Eventually, farmers
of the open space sold their land to developers and either retired or
moved their farms out of cities, which were cut into grids and plastered
with factories, shopping malls, and identical row houses.
Detroit now offers America a perfect place to redefine urban economics,
moving away from the totally paved, heavy-industrial factory-town model
to a resilient, holistic, economically diverse, self-sufficient,
intensely green, rural/urban community --- and in doing so become the
first modern American city where agriculture, while perhaps not the
largest, is the most vital industry.
Sincerely,
Mark Dowie
*Mark Dowie* is a former publisher and editor of /Mother
Jones/ magazine. He has authored five books, including /Losing Ground:
American Environmentalism at the Close of the Twentieth Century/
<http://www.amazon.com/dp/0262540843?tag=whiskegunpow-20&camp=14573&creative=327641&linkCode=as1&creativeASIN=0262540843&adid=1SE9S19TDAY3ZM1KW3EM&;> and /American
Foundations: An Investigative History/
<http://www.amazon.com/dp/0262541416?tag=whiskegunpow-20&camp=14573&creative=327641&linkCode=as1&creativeASIN=0262541416&adid=1NSQQKFRSN9PWF0DWWF1&;> and
has received sixteen journalism awards.
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<http://www.vhemt.org/>
What becomes of the surplus of human life It is either: 1st. destroyed
by infanticide, as among the Chinese and Lacedemonians; or 2nd. it is
stifled or starved, as among other nations whose population is
commensurate to its food; or 3d. it is consumed by wars and endemic
diseases; or 4th. it overflows, by emigration, to places where a
surplus of food is attainable.
~ James Madison, 1791
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