Abstract
Many environmental concerns such as climate change and reducing fossil-fuel dependence seem ‘out of reach’ for the majority of us regarding creating change. However, food systems and how we interact with them, offer tangible opportunities to respond to these environmental concerns in small but meaningful ways. By examining the impact of our food consumption, we are provided with an opportunity for ongoing self-assessment. To engage in this self-assessment as part of a community of practice, we argue, is all the more impactful.
This paper is self-reflective, exploring the process and outcomes of a group of non-experts working together to develop a workshop to explore the politics of everyday eating. This workshop took the form of a seven-course meal. To disquiet this indulgence, these seven courses included both food for physical sustenance and food to provoke hearts and minds, because ‘we don’t usually think of what we eat as a matter of ethics’ (Singer and Mason, 2007: 3). The three food courses were sourced and cooked for conference participants by the authors of this paper. While undertaking these activities, we debated and documented our sourcing decisions and mused on the role of food in Aotearoa New Zealand. The remaining four courses served our guests the critical musings of food rescuers, local food producers and other food thinkers to cleanse the palate by way of presentations, poetry and performances. By using a meal as our methodology, we, as non-expert organizers and chefs, sought to explore our own, and allow others to explore their food consumption and ethics.
Introduction
Food is a powerful force. It is that appreciative sigh and pat on the tummy at the end of a meal. There is nothing better than being satisfied by the conviviality and pleasure that comes from sharing good food and korero (conversation). However, food is beautiful and sinister all in one mouthful. We know some do not get enough of it or cannot afford nutritious food, some struggle with eating too much of it or the wrong kind of it, some of us waste it, some agonize over buying it – where to buy it, what type to buy, how to balance the power bill with ethical food choices and what is an ‘ethical’ food choice anyway (Tallontire et al., 2001)?
Our food systems are incredibly complicated but potentially empowering things. Many environmental concerns such as climate change and reducing fossil fuel dependence seem ‘out of reach’ for most of us in terms of our ability to affect change. However, examining the impact of our food consumption is a tangible opportunity for ongoing self-assessment. The politics of everyday eating is an urgent 21st-century challenge (see for example Levkoe, 2011).
Commonly used higher-education pedagogical tools are inadequate in addressing and influencing the changes needed to respond to such ‘wicked’ problems. There is not time to wait for academics to produce research and then influence implementation on the scale needed to address the problem. Rather, we need to urgently engage with, and learn from, those who are already involved in producing food sustainably and those who engage in sustainable consumption practices reflecting on the values and practices that underpin ethical food. This reflective process then, forms the research process by which we, as under-educated academics (in the varieties of this wicked food problem), might more quickly influence broader societal food practices, and ultimately food norms.
This paper reflects on a food activism workshop undertaken as a conference presentation that took the form of a seven-course meal. This experiment, grounded in communities of practice learning theory, sought to disquiet this seven-course indulgence by including both food for physical sustenance and food to provoke ‘hearts and minds’ because ‘we don’t usually think of what we eat as a matter of ethics’ (Singer and Mason, 2007: 3). According to Montanari (2006: 181), sharing a meal and eating with others is important for the formations of identities and ‘operates to develop functional relationships between individuals as well as nurturing and fueling their bodies’. Mars (1997: 189) notes that eating food with others has been ‘considered both a manifestation and a symbol of social solidarity and of community’. Meals ‘provide a landscape from which to explore all manners of cultural and economic dilemmas’ (Julier, 2013: 2).
We found that using a meal as method worked well as a way of opening up conversations between academics and ethical food advocates but importantly, also allowed those outside of these groups – people from the general public – to engage in these discussions in comfortable and meaningful ways. Whilst the period of engagement for our experiment was too short to call it a community of practice, we observed the beginnings of a possible identity shift as people, including us, felt they were becoming part of a wider group of people who cared about changing their own eating practice. Conversations prompted by both the food cooked during the meal and the provocations from each of the speakers and poets stimulated healthy discussion and debate around the table leading to initial thoughts about what it means to be an ethical eater. Our own observations, along with informal feedback from participants, highlighted potential for experiential learning to have impact, connecting theory to change in practice. Finally, couched in community of practice theory, the experiment suggested support for the more recent theoretical refinements that assert that communities of practice can be deliberately developed, and which ways that communities of practice can be important learning tools for learning what it not yet known (Wenger-Trayner in Wenger-Trayner et al., 2014; Wenger-Trayner in McDonald & Cater-Steell, 2016).
This paper outlines this food experiment and the theoretical framework on which the workshop and wider project was based. The paper develops and articulates the findings using a collaborative autoethnographic methodology and concludes the paper with lessons learned.
Background and theoretical framework
As academics located in an Environmental Studies department, the inspiration for this project came from our shared interest in, but lack of knowledge of food and the many issues and opportunities it presents. Chantal Mawer, Ceara McAuliffe Bickerton, Alyssa Ryan and Laurette Siemonek were all postgraduate students at the time of writing and Rebecca Kiddle is a senior lecturer in Environmental Studies. We are all self-confessed, convenience loving, ambitious cookbook hoarding, food lovers who have always envisaged a more sophisticated, diverse and sustainable food lifestyle for ourselves.
The ‘Social Movements, Resistance, and Social Change III: The academic and activist interface’ conference was held at Victoria University of Wellington on the 1–3 September 2016. The ethos behind this conference was to examine existing structures of power, exploitation and inequality, and envision new possibilities. It focused on bridging the divide of academia and activism and seeking ways in which these two spheres could work productively together for change. This conference and its broad mission inspired us to explore the environmental, political, economic and social elements of food, and in doing this, develop an alternative and inclusive methodology for this exploration to occur. The conference offered us the opportunity to undertake a food politics experiment grounded in community of practice learning theory. Communities of practices are groups of people engaged in collective learning in a ‘shared domain of human endeavor’ (Wenger-Trayner E and Wenger-Trayner B (2015)). The food politics experiment took the form of a seven-course meal focused on illuminating issues and concerns to do with sustainable food production and consumption in Aotearoa New Zealand.
The conceptual underpinnings of this project are grounded in the import of social constructivist pedagogy and the value of cultivating a learning community of practice to learn what is not yet known (Wenger-Trayner E and Wenger-Trayner B (2015)). The way that the learning process has been understood and conceptualized has changed in emphasis over time, from a didactic approach to one that encourages learning through social interaction (Kiddle, 2011: 41). Lev Vygotsky, considered to be the father of the social constructivist theory, argues the importance of learning with, and from others. Meanings grow out of social encounters, so participation in social interactions is key to the learning process. To Vygotsky (1978), learners and their histories and experiences are also central to the learning process, thus culture is the basis of a person’s development, understood to grow through social interactions with others.
Lave and Wenger (1991) also argue that learning is situated in an ‘authentic context’ and culture. This they contrast with many classroom-learning activities that involve the learning of abstract knowledge that has no direct relationship to the context in which the learning takes place. They assert that effective learning is ‘learning in the context of our lived experience of participation in the world’ (Wenger, 1998: 3). In practical terms, learning is a process of ‘cognitive apprenticeship’ where students obtain knowledge through a range of social and academic experiences.
For Lave and Wenger, the primary vehicle for the ‘cognitive apprenticeship’ in an ‘authentic learning context’ is a community of practice. Communities of practice are ‘groups of people who share a concern or a passion for something they do and learn how to do it better as they interact regularly’ (Wenger-Trayner and Wenger-Trayner, 2015: 1) A community of practice requires three elements to be present for it to be characterized as such. These are mutual engagement, joint enterprise within the community as well as a shared repertoire and a mutual negotiation of meaning (Wenger, 1998).
These communities of practice naturally form or can be encouraged to form (which was our intention) around particular identities. Our identity as part of these communities of practice informs who we are as a learner, or according to Wenger, as a human being. He writes: There is a profound connection between identity and practice. Developing a practice requires the formation of a community whose members can engage with one another and thus acknowledge each other as participants. As a consequence, practice entails the negotiation of ways of being a person in that context… Inevitably, our practices deal with the profound issue of how to be a human being. In this sense, the formation of a community of practice is also the negotiation of identities (Wenger, 1998: 149).
Kolb (1984: 41) describes experiential learning theory as a ‘process whereby knowledge is created through the transformation of experience. Knowledge results from the combination of grasping and transforming experience.’ Kolb and Kolb (2005) developed an experiential learning theory which includes six principles: (a) learning is best conceived as a process, not in terms of outcomes; (b) all learning is relearning; (c) learning requires the resolution of conflicts between dialectically opposed modes of adaptation to the world; (d) learning is a holistic process of adaptation to the world; (e) learning results from synergetic transactions between the person and the environment; and (f) learning is the process of creating knowledge.
Throughout the experiment both in relation to our own relationships as the project researchers and through thinking about the space we were creating for participants, we sought to ensure hierarchies weren’t reinforced in any way at the very least and at best were completely disregarded by all involved. Hierarchies and power dynamics are implicated in learning structures and processes whereby teachers sit at the top of the hierarchy and students beneath. ‘The traditional view of education, a view that still prevails holds that learners must submit themselves to teachers’ (Menges 1977: 5 as cited in McCroskey and Richmond, 1983). McCroskey and Richmond (1983) recognized five power bases that teachers may hold in a classroom, including expert power, legitimate power, reward power, referent power and coercive power. We sought to overcome both these unequal power relationships and traditional conceptions of learning and teaching by using a meal as a pedagogical tool. Within these traditional pedagogical morays, we Masters-level students would not have even thought about presenting at a conference. Chantal reflected that: “Initially while really grateful and honoured to be asked to participate, I was quite apprehensive about contributing to this conference – particularly due to my lack of knowledge in this area as well as preconceptions about conferences and who contributes. At that stage in my post-graduate degree, simply to attend a conference outside of the university was a daunting process, let alone being asked to contribute to it. However, the way in which we aimed to conduct this conference made it possible to be involved without being an expert on these topics.”
Alongside encouraging experiential learning opportunities within and across university settings, the ability to collaborate beyond the university with the wider community was important for enriching learning opportunities and acknowledging the role of universities as a contributor to wider society (Bacon, 2002). McDonald goes so far as to say of university learners that the ‘formal curriculum’ is not often the principal mechanism for learning, instead it is the engagement in both individual and collective life while at university which contributes to a large quantity of learning (McDonald, 2002). While universities have long been criticized for their ‘Ivory tower syndrome’ and their failure to connect with communities and wider society, this seems to be changing. Instead, the importance of this engagement is now strongly emphasized, where knowledge is understood to be exchanged rather than simply transferred. ‘The concept of knowledge transfer has been broadened to that of knowledge exchange, in recognition of the fact that rarely is it a one-way relationship when academia and society meet’ (Sidorko and Yang, 2011: 386). A core goal for the field of participatory geography, for example, has been to ‘question and destabilise traditional barriers between “expert researchers” and “researched communities” to enable spaces for collaboration, negotiation and the co-construction of knowledge’ (Wynne-Jones et al., 2015a: 218). Effective engagement, collaboration, negotiation and co-construction of knowledges tends to sit within the bounds of a community/ies of practice we would argue.
A meal of activism
This project, through the production of a food politics meal, worked to promote social constructivist learning opportunities, opportunities for the building of learner identities through a glimpse of, and potentially ongoing membership of, a food-focused community of practice. We sought to bring people together to provide a space for introspection, retrospection and ideation about individual and collective food ethics.
This ‘meal of activism’ was entitled: ‘Welcome to Our Dinner Table: E hoa ma, ina te ora o te tāngata’ took the form of a seven-course meal and comprised of both food for physical sustenance and food for thought. While the modus operandi for conferences is for one to speak from a position of expertise on a particular issue, we challenged this conception. Instead we as ‘non-experts’ set out to facilitate an evening of learning related to food. In order to do this, we connected with community members and organizations, local businesses and poets working within the ‘food activism’ space and asked them to participate in our workshop.
We collected, prepared, presented and served all of the food for physical sustenance ourselves in a university kitchen located next to the workshop room. Themes for each meal were chosen to demonstrate differing elements related to food. We split into groups of two to create these meals and organize their corresponding presentations. The themes chosen were zero-waste, ‘glocalization’ and ethical consumerism. We sought to create an atmosphere of inquiry into the origins and impacts of our food choices. Our learning from the planning and preparation of the meal were communicated to our guests while their meal was served. There was no imposed cost to attend the workshop; however, guests were able to provide a koha (donation).
The evening began with local musicians welcoming more than 40 attendees and an ice-breaker whereby the MC asked attendees to openly discuss or develop a personal food policy with their table. This prompted attendees to think about what guides their food decisions, whether these be dietary requirements, environmental concerns, ethical considerations, or something else.
Appetizer and starter courses: zero waste
The starter course was based on the theme of zero waste. The zero-waste movement emerged from a growing concern relating to the quantity of domestic waste being produced, and the contribution of this to environmental problems including climate change, pollution, and waste generation (OECD, 2002). While the meaning zero waste varies, we refer to it as ‘designing and managing products and processes to systematically work to avoid and eliminate the volume and toxicity of waste and materials, conserve and recover all resources, and not burn or bury them’ (Zero Waste International Alliance, 2009: 1).
These courses sought to demonstrate the applicability of zero waste while producing a delicious meal for a large number of people. The course consisted of bread, olive oil and Egyptian dukkah as an appetizer and a roasted pumpkin, kumara, feta and walnut salad as a starter. The ingredients were collected without packaging, either from our personal gardens or from four stores in Wellington. In planning this meal, we realized our preconceptions of zero waste as extremely difficult were exaggerated. However, a number of tensions around how one might create zero waste were highlighted including the ability of those on lower incomes to carry out a zero-waste lifestyle, particularly if easy access to shops offering zero-waste options was unavailable. Within the Wellington context, it was not possible to find all the elements of this meal in one place. Instead we had to travel to a number of shops that offered ‘no packaging’ options. These were often specialty organic stores with high premiums.
A course for the mind and soul
The starter course was accompanied by a presentation from a local Wellington couple, Hannah and Liam, who had been living zero waste for 18 months. They discussed their lifestyle and experience as zero-waste practitioners, focusing on the intersection between zero waste and food consumption, highlighting the fact that it is possible to produce very little waste but requires organization and research and the setting up of routines which enable the purchase of food without packaging and the cooking and disposal of food in ways that fit into the ‘rest of life’s busyness’.
Main course: glocalization
The main course focused on the theme of glocalization: something ‘reflecting or characterised by both local and global considerations’ (Oxford University Press, 2017). This theme was chosen to demonstrate the socio-cultural processes which impact on food. Every element of food from its production, preparation and consumption is tied up with culture and identity formation (Montanari, 1949). While historically cuisine was regional, the process of globalization has led to changing cuisines and local food identities (Montanari, 1949). Montanari (1949: 59) explains that ‘the relationship between regional cuisine and international cuisine, of “local” to “global” models of consumption, is one of the burning issues of contemporary food culture’. While some academics have expressed concern that local cuisines have been replaced by global cuisine, Montanari argues that both of these may coexist. The term ‘glocal’ has been readily applied to food to show that while food and drinks originate from one country, when they expand into others, they are never the same as the original, and are often altered to suit the taste of the local market (Montanari, 1949).
The main course sought to highlight the global processes that produce and distribute food. The meal consisted of handmade tortillas, accompanied by fish or horopito infused wild pork, black beans, kiwifruit salsa, red coleslaw and guacamole. We adapted this meal to be seasonal and also based it on local products that we could find, in place of traditional ingredients. We used horopito (a traditional Māori medicinal herb with a hot peppery taste), as well as a kiwifruit salsa, locally sourced hot sauce and a homemade organic savoury plum sauce to put the ‘local in the glocal’. One reason we chose to cook tacos was to explore issues around authenticity concerning food. Tacos now represent a global menu item which has been altered from culture to culture. We decided to represent this process and highlight how different cultures adopt cuisines and alter them according to local preferences (Stano, 2015), to create an authentically Aotearoa New Zealand taco. The course was designed as a ‘make-your-own’ meal to be a catalyst for social interaction. Members had to share dishes with one another creating opportunity for social interaction and networking.
The main course was accompanied by a presentation from a representative from local food rescue charity, Kaibosh, who spoke about food waste within the Wellington region. Kaibosh collects unsold, but edible food for redistribution to charity. They reflected on just how much food is wasted throughout the region each day by restaurants and other food outlets. Indeed, a number of key food outlets continue to throw away decent, but out of date food.
In addition, two spoken-word artists presented their ethical eating ideas through poetry. Toby Newberry’s poem, Animinalism focuses on the ills of eating meat whilst Michael Howard’s Fair Trade Because suggests that we might need to pay more to ensure primary producers get the profits they deserve. A second poem from Michael Cos, I love you subtly supports the no-waste agenda asserting his love of lettuce not from a bag, and a third, Vegetarian Problems, light-heartedly highlights the social complexities of vegetarianism.
Dessert course: ethical food production
The dessert course was based on the theme of ethical food production, with a particular focus on the cocoa trade. Ethical consumerism is subjective allowing a consumer to choose between products that are aligned with their ethical values without clear quantitative measure of whether one is more ethical than another (Doane, 2001). We sought to explore the increasing trend of ethical trade which has been largely driven by social action (Renard, 2003; Jenkins, et al., 2002). Analysing the global value chain is an effective way to analyse ethical food production (Gereffi, et al., 2001). Commodities are often sold with set prices that do not take into consideration the cost of production but seek to make it cheap for the consumer (Davies and Crane, 2003). The aim of fair trade is to protect human rights within the economy, while setting a minimum premium price (McIntosh et al., 1998; Davies and Crane, 2003). Fair trade is focused on the terms of trade between buyers and producers whereas ethical trade is focused on ensuring that working conditions in the value chain meet international standards (Smith and Barrientos, 2005).
The dessert featured chocolate used in four ways: chocolate cake, chocolate florentines, chocolate mousse and plum and cacao nib cider. Fair trade and organic products were used when possible and it was the sourcing of the ingredients for this course that highlighted the complex supply chains and exploitation that sit behind many of our everyday ingredients. While some speciality products made their providence and company ethics clear, such as the local ‘carbon-zero’ chocolate we used, others provided no indication of their provenance or production chains, such as the flour used in the baking of the cake.
A course for the mind and soul
The course was accompanied by a presentation from the co-founder of the Wellington Chocolate Factory. The presentation focused on ethical trade and the company’s role as a social enterprise interested in ethical food production. Specifically, he described a voyage from New Zealand to Bougainville on a sailing boat which allowed their cocoa beans to be transported to New Zealand without the use of carbon.
Through these themed courses and the accompanying presentations, we were able to create an opportunity for a wider interested public, alongside ourselves, to engage with sustainable food practitioners and thinkers through the sharing of food. Key ideas and questions raised by the seven courses included questions of food and food packaging waste, what does zero waste mean exactly and what practical steps might one take to move towards it? The relevance of glocalization for food choices allowing food diversity whilst incorporating and support for locally produced food products, thereby minimizing reliance on imported food. Finally, concerns over ethical food production and ethical consumerism were highlighted bringing to light the complex food chains that underpin our ability to access everyday ingredients such as chocolate and coffee which are unable to be produced in New Zealand.
Methodology
This paper draws on a collaborative autoethnographic methodological approach (May and Pattillo-McCoy, 2000; Mangan et al., 2016). Autoethnography is a relatively new approach, emerging in the early 2000s, allowing the researcher to undertake a personal, self-reflective inquiry into the issue in question. It is rooted in postmodern traditions and was developed in response to traditional ethnography which has been widely criticized firstly by quantitative practitioners suspicious of its lack of objectivity and more recently by ethnographers themselves for failing to acknowledge cultural and political identities and biases inherent in any researcher.
The autoethnographic approach has come out of an acceptance that research is centred in the subjective realities of individual researchers and that truth is relative and predicated on these subjectivities. Spry (2001: 710) defines autoethnography ‘as a self-narrative that critiques the situatedness of self with others in social contexts’. Bochner (2001), referenced in Wall (2006: 2), writes: Academic writers are beginning to acknowledge the normative value of inquiry. Critics of scientific traditions have argued for the abandonment of rationality, objectivity, and truth to move social science beyond a focus on method, toward the power of social research to have a moral effect.
According to Wall (2006: 6), there are multiple approaches possible concerning autoethnography. We have chosen an approach similar to that of Sparkes (1996) who writes a narrative in his work The Fatal Flaw: A narrative of the fragile body-self. In this, he offers a personal account of his inability to compete as an elite sportsperson due to a back disease. He asks readers to use his personal account to reflect on their lives in relation to his (Sparkes 1996: 467). This might be categorized as one of the ‘more experimental forms of autoethnography in which the boundaries of scholarship are merged with artistic expression as a way of challenging the limitations of what is normally accepted as knowledge in academic contexts’ (Duncan, 2004: 11).
Our own piece takes a collaborative autoethnography approach offering a number, five to be exact, of personal narratives of the collective experience of developing a pedagogical event focused on food. These narratives were based on three key questions: what was our experience of developing the food event? What did we learn as non-experts both regarding developing food pedagogy and regarding food politics? And, what would we change about it if we were to do it again? Each of us developed these narratives on our own and came together to analyse these, looking for themes involving similarities and differences in account. These themes are discussed in the next section.
Findings
Our aim was to initiate a community of practice related to ethical food issues that anyone with an interest would be comfortable being part of. The meal methodology allowed community members who may not otherwise have participated to be involved in the conference. The conference ideology was one of inclusivity and collaboration between activism and academia. However, while it aimed to be inclusive, the forums for this conference did not always feel accessible to all. For Chantal, this was evident in her mother's engagement with the conference. My mother came down to Wellington to attend the event. She was too intimidated by the lecture-style rooms and feelings of not belonging, as she fit neither into the activist or academic category. While of course the reason that she chose to attend the event was to support me – it was interesting because it seemed that by having a meal, it was an event that she felt comfortable being part of and contributing to because everyone eats food.
We found this to be true of our experiment. Participants from a range of backgrounds actively offered their viewpoints, experiences and knowledge to do with certain food over the shared meal. Creating a shared identity happened in small ways, for instance through brainstorming personal food manifestos. However, one interaction, despite being meaningful, was not enough to establish ongoing shared identities across those who participated.
Politics of choice and connecting theories to practice
The conference was a unique opportunity for us to explore the concept of experiential learning in practice. As mentioned earlier, we began this process on the periphery of food activism with very little knowledge of the subject. To prepare for the conference we each researched our subject areas in the traditional academic way, theorizing the practices of zero waste, glocalization and ethical food consumption. However, it wasn’t until we began to source our ingredients and meet people engaged in this ‘food activism’ space that the learning felt real and situated.
For Laurette and Ceara involved in the production of the zero-waste themed meal, the understanding of the environmental impact of waste was just the beginning of a knowledge journey. Actually, engaging in sourcing a zero-waste meal revealed aspects of this topic that would not have been discovered in research and academia. ‘Prior to exploring “zero waste” as a theme for our courses, I had assumed that creating “zero waste” meals would be difficult and would involve substituting flavour and time for the good of the environment’ (Ceara). It was further noted that ‘zero waste’ is more about a change in mindset, rather than a matter of substitution. Without engaging in the actual process of sourcing zero-waste food, the assumptions of the high barrier to entry to the zero-waste lifestyle would never have been challenged.
We also explored issues around the food economy as part of our meal production. When collecting ingredients, we questioned food sellers on the provenance of food items and the cost of the same ingredient produced in different ways. Rebecca noted that, the process of gathering together the ingredients for our meal was eye-opening for me. Questioning food sellers on the provenance of food items, the cost, the stories behind products highlighted the illogical economic systems that surround food production and distribution resulting in products that have been manufactured in some way (e.g. canned products) sometimes costing less than the primary product. food sovereignty is an important part of food choices and everyone has the right to good food. As we were making the plans for the courses, the discussion of meat consumption became a focus point. If we were to serve meat, it would need to be ethically sourced or sustainably harvested, but we also had to be concerned about vegetarians, vegans and other types of dietary limitations.
Kolb and Kolb’s (2005) six principles outlined earlier underpinned our collective learning experience. For instance, the principle, ‘all learning is relearning’, emphasizes that learning is best facilitated by drawing out beliefs about a topic and then going through a process of testing and refining to shape learning. This was the shared experience of all of us as when we started to discuss how to best create this workshop, we all had our own beliefs and assumptions that were tested and re-shaped through the process of actively engaging with theories and through the practice of sourcing and making decisions about the ingredients for our meals.
Furthermore, principle three, which purports that learning requires the resolution of conflicts, was evident when we were confronted with the idea of using meat in the glocal meal. This challenged the foundations of what the ‘politics of food’ meant within our own existing knowledge sets. The discussion around consumption of meat became an unexpected learning opportunity. This also links in with principle six, whereby social knowledge is created and re-created in the personal knowledge of the learner. As we discussed meat options for the workshop, we were able to share opinions and experiences that informed the rest of the group’s personal knowledge.
Communities of practice from the periphery
Uniquely, we as non-experts sought to initiate a food ethics community of practice. Usual practice suggests that these communities tend to be shaped by those who are expert or proficient in the focus of the community. Instead, we incorporated a variety of actors from a range of communities of practice to arguably promote the beginnings of a larger community of practice through this seminar. The meal methodology we used acted as a form of action research, that is, a participatory method whereby researchers and participants work collaboratively to investigate and issue (Cahill, 2007).
There were a number of communities of practice evident in the learning process. We will refer to one as the Food community of practice and the other as the Environmental Studies community of practice. Within the Food community of practice, there appeared to be a number of smaller communities of practice including food activists (e.g. Kaibosh and the zero-waste proponents), those interested in food enterprise (e.g. Wellington Chocolate Factory) and those engaged in the food-related art (e.g. the food poets). We who are writing this paper were members of the Environmental Studies community of practice. The learning process instigated by us seemed to work to support and strengthen the Food community of practice. Evidence of this included the fact that some participants noted at the end of the night that the evening had provided them with a great opportunity to learn how other groups and individuals were also addressing issues relating to food in different ways. We also had emails after the conference from attendees looking for contact details for someone they met at this evening. As organizers, we could make connections with community organizations, local businesses and individuals contributing to this food politics space. Laurette noted we were able to become aware of what was occurring at a local level and see the challenges and opportunities within this issue. It also demonstrated how these challenges were approached from a range of perspectives, from social enterprise, individual action, humour and poetry.
These findings are limited by the fact that it was a one-off event and no follow up formal evaluation was undertaken with participants. However, the experiment was really about testing the method to see how we might stimulate interest and learning through offering opportunities for the beginnings of a new community of practice. Further research would focus on undertaking a similar event and a follow-up study to ascertain whether the event had any impact on shopping and eating practices. In addition, the role of connections made initially would be explored to understand how much this earlier potential for a community of practice had been realized.
Weaknesses of our methodology included our inability to be an integral part of these conversations. As the chefs and organizers of the meal, our attentions were divided, and we felt unable to fully engage in conversation with participants. In addition, whilst we attracted some who were neither food activists/advocates or academics, further work would be needed to ascertain how to promote wider take-up of such an event. Projects such as the Everybody Eats project in Auckland which offers opportunities for people to come and eat a three-course meal cooked using food past its due by date for a koha, offer opportunities for people from all walks of life to converge over food (TVNZ News 2018). Using this type of model whereby volunteer chefs are enlisted to cook the meal and the public are welcomed on a regular basis (every Monday) would strengthen the methodology. However, it would be important to ensure that the economic concerns of many who would attend such a meal are well understood. For instance, this model enables a number of people to access a meal who are in food poverty. Provocations to shop for potentially more expensive, but sustainably produced food, might be irrelevant here given some would argue that this is a luxury for the middle classes.
Conclusion
This experience of creating space for us, and others, to learn about food politics was a profound one that highlighted for us the importance of learning in community, learning through social interaction and learning experientially. It also served to challenge the traditionally accepted community of practice theory which asserted that experts were the catalysts in the centre drawing in those on the periphery who eventually, through membership and involvement, over time become the centre of the community of practice. For us as non-experts, we worked from the periphery of the Food community of practice to instigate and catalyse our learning and the learning of others through bringing in food experts. Our experiences support the later stages of community of practice theory development which suggest that communities of practice can be fostered to increase learning (Wenger-Trayner in Wenger-Trayner et al., 2014; Wenger-Trayner in McDonald & Cater-Steel, 2016).
Developing this learning opportunity as non-experts also challenged traditional understandings of learning processes. Commonly, experts lead the learning of others. For us, we were working from a position of those who wanted to learn more. To do this we instigated a kind of action learning process whereby through an inductive process of investigating food politics we would work out what needed to be learned.
The process of developing a meal as a pedagogical tool, for us and others to learn about food politics, worked in transformative and profound ways to educate us. It allowed a nuanced reflection of how we eat, the decisions we make and how we might eat in the Anthropocene. Deep learning of the practice and ethics of food politics – the kind of learning that changes behaviour – we assert, is best done through experience, relearning and testing ideas within the secure confines of a community of practice. We also assert that one need not be the expert in the centre of the community to initiate and facilitate such learning. We non-experts can do this too.
Footnotes
Declaration of conflicting interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.