In June of this year I had the privilege of attending a portion of the 50th anniversary celebration of Freedom Summer in Jackson, Mississippi. The experience was profound and a bit haunting to me. I was just six years old in 1964 when the original events took place, including occurrences of murder and general mayhem, leading up to the Civil Rights Act of that same summer and the Voting Rights Act the following year.
Growing up in a totally white rural community outside Chicago meant that the interpretation offered to me of the Civil Rights Movement was sometimes less than charitable, and I have worked hard to replace my first impressions ever since. The black and white images from television, showing both unimaginable brutality and equally surprising solidarity among “Freedom Riders” and other activists, were stunning then and have stayed with me all these years. So it was poignant and humbling, to say the least, to be in Jackson with some of the people who had appeared in those news reports so long ago.
My principal reason for attending the event this year was to help moderate a discussion between civil rights leaders, old and new, and several of my colleagues who are leaders in the sustainable agriculture movement of today, to see what we could learn from those who had been on the frontlines of social change. Imagine the sense of awe we felt when the youngest Freedom Rider from the early sixties introduced himself and participated in our meeting. We had scheduled two hours for this exchange, but could easily have filled two days . . . our challenge now is to never let this conversation end.
The point is – and this was driven home to us in no uncertain terms – the challenge of 1964 was to “stay alive” while standing up for the rights of an oppressed community. By contrast, we have pretty much been unable to create that same sense of urgency today, even though the cause now before us may even be greater. So here is where the haunting part of the experience comes in. What would it take for us to understand and implement the risks necessary to create the real change we seek through sustainability in farming and food systems? That question is hard enough to formulate in one’s mind, and the answer even more challenging.
The question is tough, perhaps because the opposition is not nearly so well understood or recognized. It is not so hard to organize and react if the forces holding you down are using attack dogs, fire hoses and the hangman’s noose as instruments of communication. In some ways we face the same foes today, perpetually represented by greed, ignorance and indifference, but the tools being used are far more subtle. Yet we sense the challenge all the same, whether it be from the dominance of multinational corporations in our daily lives, the tragic loss of diversity in nature, the pervasive use of synthetic chemicals in agriculture, or the constantly unfolding healthcare crisis in our society. There is a common thread here; it’s really all one-in-the-same oppressor we face. And though solutions will necessarily be as complex as the problems being addressed, we do know that sustainable farming has an important role to play in every single aspect of this battle.
That brings me to the other lesson we learned in Jackson. Diversity is the key to any effective and lasting social change. It may have been that relieving oppression with respect to the black community was the point of the original Freedom Summer, but the successes achieved at that time were due in large part to racial and ethnic diversity. Half of the volunteers who showed up to help in Mississippi that summer were white, and 60% of those were Jewish. There was something about the commonality they all shared within the context of diversity that helped to make the difference in a very desperate situation. And why should we not be surprised by this? It is comforting to know that what works on farms also works in social movements – diversity of all kinds is, after all, the key to achieving sustainability in agriculture, anytime, anywhere.
So how will we know when we’re ready for real social change to occur? These two conditions must prevail, that we understand the urgency of such change in order to stay alive, and that we are firmly committed to the necessary role of diversity in achieving lasting transformation. Short of these, we will remain in this prolonged wilderness of time, just wondering what meaningful change would actually be like, and trying to remember the deep, dark shadows of our younger days when change seemed so scary, so inevitable, and so long overdue.
Ultimately, we need to understand that when we go out into our barns, greenhouses, fields and pastures, or just to the garden in the yard, we do so in order to assure a more just future, not only for our own families and communities, but for all peoples on this planet, no matter how much we may have grown to think of them as the cause of our problems. At that point, our sustainable farming dreams will have become the new Civil Rights Movement of this still rather fledgling new century.