Conceptualising Food Security at London’s Food Banks
“Why did you choose to use food stamps?” I asked.
“A lot of times I could not afford to eat because I chose to spend money on drugs. Some people say it was my choice that put myself in that situation. But it wasn’t a choice, I was compelled to do it”, was his candid reply.
This simple exchange between myself and a friend on food stamps served as a reminder that the concept of food security is highly complex and entails much more than economic exchanges of goods and services. In addition to financial wealth, food security can be ascribed to different elements of an individual’s social condition, such as choice and wellbeing.
Food is a fundamental component of everyday reality, reflecting our lived experiences and networks of social relations. As an “indicator of social differentiation and hierarchy”, (Tierney and Ohnuki-Tierney 2012) food provides insight into class and cultural differences inherent in its processes of production and consumption. While I am fortunate enough to be able to easily access food, including an excess of food and the choices that come with it, individuals in positions of food insecurity may be confronted with “a limited availability of nutritionally adequate and safe foods” (Thompson, Smith and Cummins 2018) and difficulties in acquiring them through socially-accepted channels. Perhaps this excess could potentially become a meeting point for persons of privilege and others experiencing food insecurity. This line of thought transpired into research about access to surplus food.
The Field: Food Bank Foodscapes
Food banks are foodscapes for surplus food, around which the consumption practices of food aid recipients revolve. Conducting fieldwork at food banks would allow me to observe the circuits of surplus food assemblage and re-distribution, as well as examine different modes and barriers to accessing them. While ethics is a huge consideration in my fieldwork process, food banks could provide information on the formal structures of surplus food distribution. I wanted to look for opportunities to gain a deeper understanding of the relationships between surplus food and the socio-cultural realities of their consumers.
According to Low and Zuniga, food banks are “contested spaces”, (Low and Zuniga 2003) as they contain conflicting modes of being, with an excess on one end and a lack on the other. Elaine Power notes that dependents of food aid are often “reminded that they are lesser citizens who do not have similar choices as others.” (Midgley 2014) One can infer that there are inequalities and hierarchies present in our food systems between donors and recipients of surplus food. This meant a possibility that my research could risk coming across as insensitive, especially to those on the receiving end.
Navigating Positionalities: Researcher as volunteer, Volunteer as researcher
Judith Okely writes that detachment and distance from the field could “construct the researcher as a threat, appearing as a voyeur and critic.” (Okely 2013) As an outsider to the food bank and its community, I had to find ways to directly engage with and embody its space and social relations, without disrupting its structure and normalcy. I decided to volunteer at food banks to gather as much insights as I could during my time and interactions there. In the field of anthropology, such a methodology is known as “participant observation”.
Adopting the practices of the field through participant observation would come across as more ethical and sincere, as compared to making observations from afar, which would establish a boundary between Self and Other. Being physically present in the field and in close proximity with members of food banks had allowed me to generate new forms of knowledge that were often intrinsic in nature, found in everyday behaviours and occurrences. At the same time, I had to maintain a degree of self-awareness and consciousness of my own positionality and in terms of how I navigate the space.
As a food bank volunteer, I was tasked mostly with kitchen chores and providing assistance in the packing and distribution of food supplies for food bank clients — the proper term to address the individuals using food bank services. This meant that I was actively being put to work, with only brief moments of passivity to take-in information. In order to not neglect either responsibilities of volunteerism or research, I found myself having to constantly traverse and confront both identities, deciphering how I should occupy them in various contexts.
In simultaneously assuming positions of intersubjectivity and objectivity, I could relate to Ruth Behar’s description of participant observation as a paradox, whereby “ethnographers seek to understand the native’s viewpoint, but not go native”. (DeWalt and DeWalt 2010) As a participant-observer, I was able to assimilate into the field and its community, freely accessing information and even private conversations. However, moments of detachment for data-gathering, where volunteering becomes opportunism for research, could be perceived as unethical. The fear of romanticising the tragedy of food insecurity was constantly present, and there were moments of apprehensiveness about using my findings as research material.
It was precisely these dilemmas that evoked personal epiphanies about the complex networks of actors and relations within the systems of surplus food. As a volunteer, I became a mediator of access to surplus food, obtained from large supermarket companies, as well as from private donations. Volunteers were given lists of food supplies issued by official state bodies to prepare for each client, tailored to one’s family size, dietary requirements, and allergies. If an item was unavailable, we had to select an alternative on their behalf, consequently altering their food options. The food bank volunteer hence acts as a mediator between donors, clients, and surplus food, playing a significant role in processes of circulation and consumption that extend beyond the physical space and work of the food bank.
The Weight of Food Security
Aside from dry rations such as pasta and crackers, I had observed that most of the supplies in food bank storages, including fruits and vegetables, were canned food. This is because most food banks do not have the necessary storage equipment for fresh food and perishables. Following the state guidelines, food distributed to clients had to be of a certain weight, depending on family size. A bag of supplies for a family of two to three, for instance, had to weigh between 15 to 18 kilograms. As I packed the solid and bulky cans into large cumbersome bags, I began to contemplate about how the physical qualities of food could be translated into the psychological burdens of accessing food — the weight of food security.
My encounter with canned food had allowed me to visualise the fluid and unbounded nature of the field. Its material objects are often entangled with the private lives of different individuals, demonstrating how food acts as social, cultural, and economic markers. Unlike scarcity, food security or insecurity is not solely defined by having sufficient quantities of food to eat. Dependence on food aid can lead to negative impacts on an individual’s health and wellbeing, especially since the food bank diet consists mostly of canned food that are high in preservatives and sodium.
The lack of choices when it comes to surplus food is indicative of one’s socio-economic background and shapes one’s consumption habits. On the contrary, fresh food and perishables may cause more harm than good in many cases. A veteran food bank volunteer I met explained that many clients are unable to afford refrigerators and proper cooking facilities, and may actually prefer canned food as they are easy to store and prepare. By engaging with the affective qualities of canned food, I was able to make connections between food security and wellbeing.
Institutional barriers impact one’s eligibility to use food bank services as well. While distributing food, I came across a client who needed to obtain more food stamp vouchers and approached the volunteers for advice. I later learnt that for food banks officially registered under state welfare, clients are granted access only via intermediaries such as social workers, school counsellors, and “people with some degree of authority or expertise who evaluate eligibility”, (Caplan 2016) who are positioned as gatekeepers. The individual’s socio-economic situation is placed under scrutiny and judgement at an institutional level, “feeding into broader societal discourses of the deserving and underserving poor.” (Thompson, Smith and Cummins 2018)
Notions of Giving and Lack
After spending some time in food bank storage rooms, I identified some disparities in the available stocks of the different foods. There were instances when I was instructed to give clients more pasta and baked beans than what was required. The clients did not necessarily enjoy eating pasta and baked beans but were given additional portions, as the food banks often had an excess of these foods. Meanwhile, there was a persistent shortage of canned fish and meat, yet they were always high in demand. When I inquired about this, other volunteers shared that most donors have the tendency to donate large quantities of pasta and baked beans, instead of other varieties of food. In the process of personally managing and mediating the flows of surplus food, I noticed the mismatch between its demand and supply.
In Pat Caplan’s study on food banks in the United Kingdom, she notes that the donation system used by food banks lacks consistency and fluctuates too often, to the extent that “there is no guarantee of its random nature ensuring sufficient supplies of a particular category of food.” (Caplan 2016) Charity could impose restrictions on consumption when the donated foods are left to the discretion of donors or dependent on available surpluses.
I recalled a similar trend with oats, in my past experience of volunteering in food banks in Singapore. An article on food banks in Singapore had disclosed that “while many agree that oats tastes unpleasant and is not a common part of most Singaporeans’ diets, donors have deemed they are good for the poor.” (Teo 2017) Perhaps the same could be said of pasta and baked beans at London’s food banks. The perceptions and attitudes of donors have influenced social belief systems about what foods would be substantial or beneficial for individuals faced with food insecurity, as a result altering the consumption habits, choices, and physical wellbeing of food aid recipients.
While my time at food banks have made me more socially-aware and thoughtful about the notions of giving and lack, it also echoed the limitations of volunteerism and charity. Being unable to give clients the foods they wanted, while clearing out excess stock by passing it onto them, felt uncomfortable and almost unethical. As I could not avoid interacting with the clients, I found it difficult to reject their requests for meat and fish, or respond to them appropriately when they questioned about the excess pasta and baked beans they had received.
Childcare
My previous observations on the materiality of the canned food led me to draw some conclusions on health and wellbeing issues that are linked to food security, and this made me question if there were other challenges that food bank clients faced. At the food collections, the supplies we gave to clients were of significant weight and quantities. This had me deliberating if transportation is a barrier to accessing the food bank services in cases where clients could not afford the transportation needed to carry the heavy bags of food home.
I anticipated that participant observation alone may not have permitted access to all available information or components of the field, especially since I had to be conscious about the people around me. So I had to look for opportunities to speak to other volunteers or individuals. Taking ethics into account, I had to also ensure that I did not appear invasive or interrogative when asking questions. I was extremely selective with whom I chose to converse with, as I might unintentionally subject others to harm “when participants are made vulnerable to perceiving failures in their lives.” (Montgomery 2013)
I decided to casually comment about the weight of the bags of food while weighing them, using this as a point of entry for further conversation with others. Some volunteers shared that most clients live in the vicinity of the food banks they visited and could afford to take the bus. They pointed out that childcare was in fact a bigger concern, as most clients had to look after their children amidst their daily chores, including bringing them along to the food banks.
As I was distributing food, I began making a mental note of clients whose children came along with them, and eventually volunteered to assist these parents in order to initiate a conversation in the process. To my surprise and delight, several parents were eager to share their personal narratives of food insecurity and the difficulties they faced in caring or providing for their children. I had learnt that schools play an important role in providing meals for children, which highlights the fact that families are most at risk during school holidays, as children spend more time at home and thus require more food. Parents were often troubled by meal preparations due to limited varieties of food they could afford, and feared that it would be detrimental on their children’s health.
My interactions with these individuals had created a platform of multivocality, where we could share information in a flexible and unrestricted manner. Such a system of collaboration is termed by Holstein and Gubrium as a horizon of meaning, through which “coherent, meaningful configurations emerge through patterned narrative linkages” (Holstein and Gubrium, The Active Interview 1995) between different individuals and contexts.
Community Experience
As much as my fieldwork process and methodologies provided a sense of immediacy to the field, it also displaces one from the familiar. Being in an unfamiliar setting required a degree of dependency on the individuals who inhabit the space. Apart from making my own observations and interpretations, I relied on the expertise of other permanent food bank staff and volunteers. In the sharing space and time, and by actively participating in the field as a volunteer, I slowly gained acceptance and built rapport with different individuals there.
In some of the food banks that I had volunteered at, the spirit of community was evident in the dining areas within their spaces, where volunteers cooked and served hot meals to clients and members of the general public. Pat Caplan suggests that clients may feel stigmatised and ostracised by society, because “worth and self-worth are measured in terms of the ability to be independent of others.” (Caplan 2016) The communal dining space democratises the experience and act of eating. There was a sense of positivity and inclusiveness as people from all backgrounds are welcomed to dine together and share a meal in a non-hierarchical setting. Exploring these simple yet purposeful events through participant observation has made my experiences as a food bank volunteer a more wholesome one.
Limitations of Food Aid
During a lunchtime conversation I had at a food bank, I was told that clients are each given only a limited number of food stamp vouchers every six months. Food given at each collection was meant to last a family for only three to four days, and clients would have to seek other alternatives beyond that. Although several organisations had begun to offer counselling and advice on employment or debt management as part of initiatives to look for more sustainable solutions, most volunteers were resigned to the fact that nothing more could be done. I was again reminded that there are limitations to the help one can extend. These isolated dialogues left me feeling unsettled, as I began to grasp the fleeting nature of food aid and dilemmas of food security.
Indeed, food banks echo the symptoms of society; and food aid is but a temporary solution to get through challenging circumstances. The limitations of food aid are particularly apparent in the current Covid-19 crisis. Surplus food stocks have significantly decreased due to hoarding and home-quarantine measures meant that clients and volunteers faced more restrictions in accessing food banks. As surplus food remains a precarious entity, and the absence of a permanent solution to food security persists, there is a need for greater mindfulness towards the various foodscapes in the societies we live in.
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Disclaimer: The contents of this article are based solely on my personal experiences, and does not reflect all food banks across London or the United Kingdom.
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References
Caplan, Pat. 2016. “Big Society or Broken Society.” Anthropology Today Vol. 30 №1 5–9.
DeWalt, Kathleen M., and Billie R. DeWalt. 2010. Participant Observation: A Guide for Fieldworkers. Lanham: Altamira Press.
Low, Setha, and Denise Lawrence Zuniga. 2003. “Locating Culture .” In The Anthropology of Space and Place, by Setha Low and Denise Lawrence Zuniga, 1–48. Massachusetts: Blackwell.
Midgley, Jane L. 2014. “The Logics of Surplus Food Redistribution.” Journal of Environmental Planning and Management Vol. 57 №12 1872–1892.
Montgomery, Anne. 2013. “Difficult Moments in Ethnographic Interview: Vulnerability, Silence, and Rapport.” In The Interview: An Ethnographic Approach, by Jonathan Skinner, 143–162. London: Bloomsbury.
Okely, Judith. 2013. Anthropological Fieldwork: Fieldwork and The Ethnographic Method. London: Bloomsbury Academic.
Teo, You Yenn. 2017. “Poor People Don’t Like Oats Either.” New Tariff. September 9. Accessed March 30, 2020. https://newnaratif.com/research/poor-people-dont-like-oats-either/.
Thompson, C., D. Smith, and S. Cummins. 2018. “Understanding the Health and Wellbeing Challenges of the Food Banking System.” Social Science and Medicine Vol. 211 95–101.
Tierney, Kenji R., and Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney. 2012. “Anthropology of Food.” In Oxford Handbook of Food History, by Jeffrey M. Pilcher. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
