Examining consumer food choice in shaping just and sustainable food systems

By: Amy Hoover

In the fall, I led the Food Resiliency Project in discussing King Quinoa: The Development of the Modern Export Market and its Implications for the Andean People by Victoria Albert. Ms. Albert’s article is insightful and well worth reading for anyone interested in agricultural systems, food sovereignty, economic colonialism, and environmentally sustainable food.

Toward the end of her article, Ms. Albert critiques the idea that by choosing the “right” foods, we as consumers can leverage the market to shape a better food system. Since our group’s discussion, that idea has stuck with me.

Choosing the “right” foods is a frequently tasty but sometimes stressful proposition. Thinking about food choice, I have examined how my values intersect to shape what I choose. I am considering the limitations of “voting with my dollars.” Finally, I have been thinking about ways to shift my energy toward making a bigger change for better food systems.

 

What is good food?

Is it healthy? Delicious? Inexpensive? Local? Convenient? Humanely produced? Produced in an environmentally sound way? Produced by farmers and workers who make a living wage? Something that brings my family together around the dinner table?

All of these matter. Sometimes, our food can meet all of these ideals, but usually, each food choice inevitably prioritizes some of our values over others.

I see this dilemma play out in front of me whenever I stand in front of the egg section at the supermarket. As I choose between the labels (free-range, organic, vegetarian-fed, omega-3-enhanced, natural, heritage, local, and more) and the prices (all the way from $1.50 to $8.50 for a dozen), I have to choose which food values matter most to me today.

Limits of good food choice

In an ideal “vote with your dollars” world, I can use my consumer choice at the egg case to cast my vote for better food systems. Ostensibly, whatever consumers value in good food will play out in our food choices, and the market will deliver what we want.

A key problem at the egg aisle is that no one carton of eggs can accomplish everything I want my food choices to do. As I stand at the display, I often find myself agonizing unproductively. If I choose the $5 organic eggs over the $7 local eggs, have I ruined the world? Or if I choose the $7 local-but-not-organic eggs, have I ruined the world in a slightly different way?

And what about the fact that I’m debating about eggs that cost at least three times the price I need to pay to simply have eggs? Right now, I have the luxury of spending more to support my values, and there are eggs available that let me spend my dollar-vote on a variety of values. Voting with our dollars has helped to create those options at the store.

But given how many folks simply can’t spend three times as much for value-aligned eggs, I’m unsure how much we can rely on consumers choosing values over price to shape a more just food system. Price matters tremendously. When I stand at the egg aisle, I don’t know how far consumer food choice can really get us to a more just, more environmentally sustainable, and more humane food system.

Alongside with perhaps not accomplishing as much as we’d like, focusing on a food choice paradigm comes with some severe pitfalls. The paradigm divides us. It overwhelms us to the point where we may just drop out. And finally, it relieves pressure on those who can actually make a difference.

Focusing on making the right food choices divides folks who should be working together. Within a movement for better food systems, consumers aligned with different values can come into conflict. When the “eat local” folks end up debating with the “eat organic” folks for whose food is more ethical, we’re not using our energy most effectively.

Highlighting food choice as the way to advance better food systems also runs the risk of alienating folks who aren’t able to vote with their food dollars. If the only store around sells only conventional food, there’s nothing to vote on. When the food budget is tight, $5 organic eggs are not a reasonable option. Being able to afford more expensive food shouldn’t be a prerequisite for having a vote on food systems.

When we focus on consumer choice as the way to shape a better, more ethical food system, there is an easy temptation to vilify those whose “wrong” choices are contributing to the problem — hey, doesn’t that shopper know that those $1.50 eggs support an exploitative system? But we all come to food choices with different values and different priorities, and when the goal is to change the food system, I refuse to fall into the trap of blaming other individuals’ “wrong” choices for an unsatisfactory system.

Prioritizing food choice also stresses us out. At the egg display alone, I can find half a dozen labels of varying meaning and enforcement that I have to learn about and navigate as I choose the “best” eggs. In a world of too many tidbits of sometimes-meaningful information and a lot of choice, there’s a high danger that we will give up and opt out. Facing a moral crisis in front of the eggs every week is exhausting. If we focus on consumer food choice as the way to improve the food system, we’re asking everyone to face these exhausting choices all the time. That’s not the best way to ask folks to spend their energy.

Finally, in her article, Ms. Albert notes that public discourse around ethical food choices “allow both corporations and the government to shift responsibility for fixing unethical food systems to consumers and obscures corporations’ responsibility to provide ethical goods.” Put another way, when we focus on consumers’ choice of ethical foods as the way to build ethical and sustainable food systems, we let the actors with the most power to change the food system off the hook. Instead, we should be putting our effort towards the corporate and governmental leverage points that can effect systemic change.

 

Beyond food choice

We need a better way to make change in the food system. Choosing the “right” foods at the grocery store is always a good option, but it can’t be our only tool in this effort.

Taking a small step beyond personal food choice, we can look to institutional buying as a bigger player in the same “vote with your dollars” world. For instance, working with institutions such as schools and hospitals to purchase food that supports the institutions’ values can provide a larger and more lasting impact.

I’m still trying to figure out where my journey beyond food choice should take me. Changing corporate and governmental actors’ impacts on the food system is a vital goal, but I’m not yet sure how to get there. As I continue to engage with the Food Resiliency Project, I’m trying to find my way toward making a bigger impact.

In the meantime, I resolve to have a better relationship with food choice in general (and the egg aisle in particular). I’m entering the world of food and law trying to make the world a better place, without falling into an ethical morass every time I take a bite. I will keep choosing food that reflects my values wherever I can, but I’ll also try to take the pressure off of each and every food choice I make — eat the thing, get the energy from that thing, and fight the good fight. I will keep learning about and talking about food, engaging with others on how we can all make a more just and sustainable food system for all of us.