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"We just wanna warm some bellies" : Food Not Bombs, anarchism, and recycling wasted food for protest Fessenden, Sarah Grace 2017

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 “WE JUST WANNA WARM SOME BELLIES”: FOOD NOT BOMBS, ANARCHISM, AND RECYCLING WASTED FOOD FOR PROTEST  by  SARAH GRACE FESSENDEN  A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF   DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY   in  THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES  (Anthropology)   THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA  (Vancouver)   April 2017   © Sarah Grace Fessenden 2017          ii		ABSTRACT Within and against neoliberal systems Food Not Bombs serves hope. Food Not Bombs is a global anarchist-inspired (dis)organization that protests war—among other things—by giving away food for free. This dissertation is an ethnography about Food Not Bombs generally and the Vancouver chapter of Food Not Bombs in particular. It contributes to anthropologies of resistance, specifically those kinds of resistance practiced by Food Not Bombs and alter-globalization activists. Since Food Not Bombs offers a unique perspective on issues such as food-waste and hunger, I follow Food Not Bombs both in its critique of contemporary social life and in its production of alternative cultural forms.  I begin by introducing the concepts direct action project and social movement (dis)organization to conceptually locate Food Not Bombs and groups like it. What is unique about direct action projects is that they explicitly weave together critique and hope; in other words, critique and hope are immanent in their direct action tactics. The manner of the critique itself (i.e. direct action) alleviates some of these harsh experiences of life under neoliberalism and, simultaneously, imagines/creates alternative cultural forms. Working with(in) global justice and alter-globalization movements, Food Not Bombs is a social movement (dis)organization, incorporating anarchistic logics and values to protest movements. Working in the interstices of capitalism, Food Not Bombs recovers wasted food, prepares it in collective kitchens using non-hierarchical organization, and serves it for free to anyone in want or need of it in public spaces. “We just wanna warm some bellies” not just in the moment but in such a way as to prefigure a world where people could freely feed themselves and help their neighbors do the same. Appadurai (2013) suggests a politics iii		wherein we do not end with critique but with enacting a new vision for the future in the present. In this dissertation I describe Food Not Bombs as a direct action project that does the work of hope in the present by exploiting the cracks in capitalism and creatively producing new cultural forms as well as cooking up some food to share. In other words, “punk rock DIY belly feeding.”                   iv		PREFACE This dissertation is original, unpublished, independent work by the author, S. Fessenden.                      v		TABLE OF CONTENTS 	Abstract ...................................................................................................................................... ii Preface ...................................................................................................................................... iv Table of Contents ...................................................................................................................... v List of Figures .......................................................................................................................... vii List of Abbreviations .............................................................................................................. viii Acknowledgements .................................................................................................................. ix Dedication .................................................................................................................................. x Chapter 1 Introduction: “We just wanna warm some bellies” .................................................. 1 Chapter 2 Contexts: Food Not Bombs, direct action, and using food as a window into radical worlds in Vancouver ................................................................................................................ 11 2.1 Research Context: Food Not Bombs ..................................................................... 13 2.1.1 History of Food Not Bombs ................................................................... 16 2.1.2 Principles and practices of Food Not Bombs ......................................... 19 2.1.3 Food Not Bombs (in) Vancouver ........................................................... 29 2.2 Literature Review: Direct action, global justice and alter-globalization, and food in protest  ..................................................................................................................... 34 2.2.1 Direct action and direct action projects .................................................. 37 2.2.2 Global justice and alter-globalization movements ................................. 50 2.2.3 Food in protest ........................................................................................ 61 2.3 Research Objectives .............................................................................................. 65 2.4 Methodology .......................................................................................................... 67 2.4.1 Field Site: Vancouver ............................................................................. 68 2.4.2 Methods .................................................................................................. 73 2.4.3 Engaged Anthropology ........................................................................... 75 Chapter 3 Ethnographies of “punk rock DIY belly feeding”: Food as anarchistic protest ..... 81 3.1 Food Not Bombs protest logics ............................................................................. 84 3.1.1 Do-It-Yourself (but also as a collective) ................................................ 84 3.1.2 Applying Food Not Bombs’ core values (or, the 3 “no rules”) .............. 87 3.2 Food Not Bombs anarchistic foodways  ................................................................ 95 3.2.1 Acquisition: Recycling wasted food ....................................................... 96 3.2.2 Preparation: Making protest food ......................................................... 108 3.2.3 Distribution: (In)visibility and a politics of the act .............................. 135 3.2.4 Revolutionary flavors ........................................................................... 146 3.3 Protest actions ...................................................................................................... 151 3.3.1 Oppenheimer Park, homelessness, and counterdiscourses ................... 153 3.3.2 Burnaby Mountain, environmental degradation, and solidarity ........... 164 3.3.3 #ShutDownCanada, economic oppression, and sustenance ................. 177 3.3.4 Affinity-based politics .......................................................................... 184 Chapter 4 “Solidarity, not charity”: Implications of anarchistic protest food ....................... 188 4.1 Anarchist dinner party ......................................................................................... 189 4.2 Solidarity, not charity: anarchistic politics against neoliberalism ....................... 193 4.3 “The right to food”: how anarchistic politics can help food-waste recovery and anti-hunger efforts ..................................................................................................... 197 Chapter 5 Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 205 vi		Bibliography .......................................................................................................................... 213 Appendices ............................................................................................................................ 222 Appendix A: Craigslist post ...................................................................................... 222 Appendix B: Donation Letter .................................................................................... 223                      vii		LIST OF FIGURES  Figure 1 Entrance to North Philly Peace Park, September 14, 2014. Photo by author ........... 28 Figure 2 Food Not Bombs food distribution at North Philly Peace Park’s Urban County Fair,  September 14, 2014. Photo by author ......................................................................... 28 Figure 3 Jacquie and Aaron in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, November 2, 2014.  Photo by author ............................................................................................................ 33 Figure 4 “How you can support the ban on food in the garbage,” 2015. Image by the City of  Vancouver .................................................................................................................... 72 Figure 5 “food isn’t garbage” sign at Canada Line station, January 6, 2015. Photo by  author ........................................................................................................................... 72 Figure 6 Jacobin inspecting the produce, September 19, 2014. Photo by author .................... 89 Figure 7 Spinach for Food Not Bombs, April 4, 2015. Photo by author ............................... 104 Figure 8 “Blotchy pick box,” November 9, 2014. Photo by author ...................................... 105 Figure 9 Locked dumpsters behind the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, January 25, 2015. Photo by  author ......................................................................................................................... 107 Figure 10 Jacquie and Jane’s “pulley,” October 3, 2014. Photo by author ........................... 109 Figure 11 Sign on poster board at Jacquie and Jane’s apartment, November 8, 2014. Photo by  author ......................................................................................................................... 110 Figure 12 Produce on the balcony, October 11, 2014. Photo by author ................................ 111 Figure 13 Persian cucumbers in holey plastic bag, October 26, 2014. Photo by author ....... 114 Figure 14 Plastic-covered bread, October 26, 2014. Photo by author ................................... 115 Figure 15 Slimy green beans, October 25, 2014. Photo by author ........................................ 116 Figure 16 Roasted potatoes, October 26, 2014. Photo by author .......................................... 117 Figure 17 Cutting board and knives, October 26, 2014. Photo by author ............................. 118 Figure 18 Sliced carrots in “steamer” and cut cabbage, October 26, 2014. Photo by  author ......................................................................................................................... 118 Figure 19 Purple carrot soup, October 26, 2014. Photo by author ........................................ 119 Figure 20 Lettuce slime, October 26, 2014. Photos by author .............................................. 121 Figure 21 Food Not Bombs stuff, October 26, 2014. Photos by author ................................ 122 Figure 22 Apartment cooking, November 8, 2014. Photos by author ................................... 124 Figure 23 Burners and ‘Bombers,’ September 28, 2014. Facebook photo courtesy of  Andre ......................................................................................................................... 156 Figure 24 Burnaby Mountain drill site, November 23, 2016. Photo by author ..................... 168 Figure 25 Burnaby Mountain camp kitchen, November 30, 2014. Photo by author ............ 169 Figure 26 Caretaker tent at Burnaby Mountain, November 30, 2014. Photo by author ....... 174 Figure 27 Food Not Bombs table at Burnaby Mountain Resistance Dance Party, November  30, 2014. Photo by author .......................................................................................... 175 Figure 28 Clark and Hastings at #ShutDownCanada, February 13, 2015. Photo by author . 180 Figure 29 “feeding the revolution,” February 13, 2015. Photo by author ............................. 180 Figure 30 Anyone with a Sharpie can be Food Not Bombs, February 13, 2015. Photo by  author ......................................................................................................................... 181 Figure 31 Signage at #ShutDownCanada, February 13, 2015. Photo by author ................... 182    viii		LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS  DIY Do it yourself DTES Downtown Eastside FNB Food Not Bombs FBI Federal Bureau of Investigation GJM Global Justice Movement IMF International Monetary Fund NVDAM Non-Violent Direct Action Movement RCMP Royal Canadian Mounted Police SBC Smiling Buddha Cabaret U.K. United Kingdom U.S. United States                  ix		ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS  For the inspiration to begin this research, I am thankful for Terra and Luke. They opened their home so that Food Not Bombs could operate for so many years in Santa Ana. They became not only inspirations for me and for other activists but also good friends.  I was fortunate to have found a home at California State University, Long Beach; a home for my ideas and my research where applied and activists projects were not just tolerated but celebrated. Specifically, I am thankful for my supervisor Ron Loewe: for introducing me to “radical social analysis,” being a constant support, and continuing discussions with me throughout the years. My first research project was with Food Not Bombs Barcelona. There, I met so many committed and good-hearted people. Specifically, I am thankful to know Luther Blissett and Shon Potado. For leading me to the Situationists and for showing me that worlds can be remade—literally ‘within the shell of the old’—and that “people can get used to anything,” I am thankful to have known Luther Blissett. For his commitment to others—as a Food Not Bombs volunteer and as a street medic in some of the most dangerous protest moments in the U.S.—I am inspired by Shon Potado, grateful for his support, and happy to share pizza whenever possible.  For this dissertation in particular, I am indebted to the volunteers with Food Not Bombs Vancouver, especially Jacquie, Jane, Shayna, Noelle, Michael, and Gerrard. Jacquie and Jane: for their excitement, vision, heart, and for opening their home and staying up all night with the oven on to make those apple crumbles. Shayna: for her consistency, warm presence, and effectiveness at organizing our sometimes haphazard ideas. Noelle: for her love of Food Not Bombs and all things (crusty) punk. Michael: for his inspiring stories about Food Not Bombs and for rescuing the Vancouver chapter when we didn’t have a place to cook. Gerrard: for being a stable presence, keeping Food Not Bombs Vancouver going for so many years. This would literally not have been possible without all of their support for this project and their contagious passion for making a world where there is food, not bombs.  I am also so grateful for my committee. Rima: for taking on this project, for the time she invested into considering and pushing my ideas further, and for encouraging me to make my writing clear and accessible. Leslie: for reading everything I write so carefully, for her insights, and for her love of ethnography. Charles: for his constant support and excitement for this project over the years, for somehow knowing what I am thinking but do not as-yet know how to put into words, and for not only being my supervisor but acting as a mentor throughout this PhD program and as I enter this profession.  For their support over the last three decades, I am thankful for my family. For my sister in particular, I am so grateful for her interest, encouragement, and even literal support by cooking up and eating some food, not bombs. For finding Food Not Bombs in the first place when we wanted to find some way to protest the seemingly never-ending wars, for doing the sometimes tedious work of cooking with Food Not Bombs—even though we were rewarded from time to time with exciting finds like that wine, for talking with me and helping me process my ideas, for imparting your own insights which sadly will go unmarked within this dissertation because they have been so fused with mine, and for joining me in every step of this process, I am so grateful for my partner, Brad, without whom none of this would exist.  I am most certainly better for having known and worked with all of you. Thank you. x		DEDICATION To Dylan. Your presence in this world motivates me to be better and to help make the world a better place.                      1		CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION: “WE JUST WANNA WARM SOME BELLIES” “Food Not Bombs, at least we're pretty” Jacquie commented after getting teased about our rather foolish decision to stand in the rain even after the Smiling Buddha Cabaret proprietors invited us inside. This estrogen rich Food Not Bombs crew consisted of Jacquie and Jane, a spunky and mischievous couple whose kitchen we and a couple hundred pounds of produce and bread invaded every week; Shayna, an aspiring DIY cook and burlesque performer; and me, "blondie," the studious researcher and on of the in-house Food Not Bombs ‘experts.’  We were periodically joined by more volunteers: Juan, the Food Not Bombs Vancouver volunteer from South America reluctantly studying at a local university who regularly promoted anarchist events on the Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page; Roxie, a punkie traveller visiting from Melbourne; Noelle, the long-time Food Not Bombs volunteer whose crusty punk band we sadly never saw in concert; and Alana, the “mom” of the group who was far more cautious than we were about setting the bags of bread on the ground. We also had a number of visits from a several others. Aaron—and his car that was so perfectly shaped it must have been made for Food Not Bombs’ tubs and trays—stood in the rain with us in his spray-painted “Food Not Bombs” white undershirt tank. Like Roxie, he was only in town a short while as a visitor from the U.K. Later in the year, Food Not Bombs Vancouver was assisted by Michael and Will: Michael, a transplant from Memphis Food Not Bombs with a remarkable amount of vegan social networks, who became one of the primary organizers as he opened up his kitchen to Food Not Bombs Vancouver in the spring; and Will, the game-designer turned roof construction worker, who added a jovial air to Food Not Bombs cooking and serving parties.  2		Together with other visitors who came and went, we made up Food Not Bombs Vancouver from July 2014 when Jacquie and Jane started serving at Oppenheimer Park to May 2015 when jobs and life got in the way of regular cooking and serving. As of writing this page, and in the spirit of Food Not Bombs as an easily translatable project, a new crew—with of course some veterans—represents the principles and practices of Food Not Bombs by hosting an anarchistic dinner party on sidewalks and in parks in Vancouver’s poorer neighborhoods.  Vancouver Food Not Bombs has brought together diverse people, inspired by the possibility of anarchistic1 social organization, and with the intention of helping alleviate hunger. In what manner does Food Not Bombs alleviate hunger? In an online conversation that took place on Vancouver Food Not Bombs Facebook page, a few Vancouver Food Not Bombs volunteers resisted the suggestion of a non-volunteer who had said Food Not Bombs should learn to apply “business sense,” raise funds, and even perhaps pay volunteers so that Food Not Bombs could grow. The dissatisfaction with this suggestion was evident, including a refrain of “FUCK BUSINESS SENSE SO HARD” (all caps in original) and another response of “Food not Bombs is strictly non profit. Zero interest in money. We just wanna warm some bellies, man.” Vancouver Food Not Bombs really does just want to “warm some bellies.” Hosted in the most economically depressed area of Vancouver and out of sight of the tourists—though, significantly, still very visible in terms of being an object of charitable and gentrification efforts, Food Not Bombs Vancouver does not publicize their protest. 																																																								1 Discussing the alter-globalization movements of which he was a part, Juris (2009, 2013) observes, “anarchism forms part of a wider movement culture shaped by the interaction between traditional patterns of opposition and an emerging cultural logic of networking.” He argues that the labeling of groups as “anarchist” is problematic insofar as these groups do not necessarily self-identify as anarchist and to claim—or impose—that identity misses the point. In my work with Food Not Bombs, the terms ‘anarchist’ or ‘anarchism’ are sometimes used but certainly not by all volunteers. With Food Not Bombs Vancouver, ‘punk’ was a more common self-identifier. While I do not label volunteers with Food Not Bombs ‘anarchist,’ I do note the anarchistic values, logics, and practices that inspire Food Not Bombs practice. 3		Instead, they can easily be misidentified as one of the many church groups or other charities—o.k., perhaps not a church group considering the overtly punk style of several of its members—that frequent the sidewalks around Main and Hastings.  In one sense, Food Not Bombs does “just wanna warm some bellies,” alleviating hunger in the present moment. People without the opportunity to cook are provided with warm, cooked, vegetarian meals. People with the opportunity to cook may take home a bunch of chard or a handful of beets. In another sense, they are not “just” providing food. This food is the site and symbol of a protest, a protest that started in 1980 in Cambridge, MA. The vision then as well as now is to assert “food, not bombs,” a project to end hunger in the long term. But this group does not just hold up a sign in protest. This group does not just dumpster dive for their own subsistence. This group does not just eat vegetarian food. This group does not just put up posters. This group does not just serve food without a permit. Instead, it is a direct action project that recovers wasted (vegetarian and vegan) food, prepares it in collective kitchens using anarchistic (dis)organization, and serves it for free to anyone in want or need of it in public spaces. Together, these constructive practices constitute the protest of Food Not Bombs. “We just wanna warm some bellies” not just in the moment but in such a way as to prefigure a world where people could freely feed themselves and help their neighbors do the same. Perhaps we are now ready for an anthropology of and for resistance, which takes the diversity of images of the good life into fuller account when discussing resistance, so that it becomes a matter not just of refusal but of culturally inflected aspiration. (Appadurai 2016, 3)  From James Scott’s (1990) descriptions of the ways peasants resist dominant discourses by (quietly) circulating their own opinions to Arjun Appadurai’s (2013) work with grassroots projects organized by slum-dwellers in India to David Graeber (2009) detailing the 4		strategies and tactics of alter-globalization (notably anarchist) activists, anthropology has taken into account a vast number of forms of resistance. My own research with Food Not Bombs is partly an embedded, insider, activist critique of neoliberal forces as well as a recording of potential alternatives given both the “dark” conditions and their effects on people (Ortner 2016). In this “darkness,” Sherry Ortner (2016) includes inequality and oppression of various kinds such as poverty and imprisonment. Food Not Bombs seemed a unique and relevant perspective from which to understand issues of food-waste, hunger, social movement building, and resistance. First, as an insider-activist, I join Food Not Bombs volunteers in their critiques of these dark aspects of neoliberalism: wasted food and hunger. More to the point, I join them in their direct action critiques. Rather than requesting change (e.g. through voting), direct actionists make that change in the present moment.  This brings me to the second aspect of this research: the manner of the critique itself (i.e. direct action) alleviates some of these harsh experiences of life under neoliberalism and, simultaneously, imagines/creates alternative cultural forms such as non-hierarchical organizing and non-violent food production (e.g. finding free, vegetarian food). In other words, the critique is immanent in the action. In this dissertation I take these observations a step further and apply these anarchistic critiques and strategies to more ‘mainstream’ concerns. For example, it is understood that ‘charity’2 does not address the underlying causes of hunger (Poppendieck 1999; Riches 1997). I suggest direct action and its associated logics is an empowering alternative to charitable giving. This second aspect fits within Appadurai’s (2013) “politics of possibility” wherein we do not end with critique but with enacting a new vision for the future. I think of direct action as hope for the future realized in the present 																																																								2 “Charity” is here conceived as an institutional arrangement rather than a reflection of individual people’s or individual organization’s efforts. 5		moment. In this dissertation I describe an anarchistic, punk-styled direct action project, Food Not Bombs, who does this work of hope. This dissertation is an ethnography written with and about Food Not Bombs. While it is focused on participatory research with Food Not Bombs Vancouver that I conducted from September 2014 to August 2015, it is also a product of six years of participating and researching with this anarchistic food distribution in California, Pennsylvania, Barcelona, and Vancouver. The documentation of this case serves three purposes. First, in the midst of some conceptual eclecticism regarding Food Not Bombs, I develop the idea of a direct action project to help define Food Not Bombs and groups like it. While ‘direct action’ refers to a kind of political strategy, ‘direct action project’ refers to a group who has adopted a direct action tactics, who collapses their means and ends, as their primary mode of operation. My goal in blending ‘direct action’ with ‘project’ is to show how the principles and practices emerge from the ground up and that their future goals are realized in the present moment. Second, this research contributes ethnographic detail to studies of contemporary activism particularly within the global justice (della Porta 2007; Graeber 2002), “newest” (Day 2005), and alter-globalization movements (Juris and Khasnabish 2013). Located within this broader global justice movement(s) and the more narrowly defined alter-globalization movement, I suggest the idea of a social movement (dis)organization rather than ‘organization’ to highlight the anarchistic qualities of Food Not Bombs and groups like it. Third, it documents the potential and “possibility” (Appadurai 2013) of direct action within and against forms of inequality, oppression, and alienation (Day 2005; Graeber 2009; Graeber and Shukaitis 2007). Rather than ending with critique, this ethnography of Food Not Bombs captures images of hope by showing what can be done in the present to make a more just world. This, 6		in turn, adds to the body of literature on resistance that, as Ortner (2016) notes, has been growing since the 1990s both emerging out of and as a reaction to neoliberalism.  This research contributes primarily to two bodies of literature: ethnographic research about Food Not Bombs (Giles 2013; Giles 2014; Heynen 2010; Parson 2010; Shannon 2011; Spataro 2015) and ethnographic research about activism particularly within contemporary global justice and alter-globalization movements (Appel 2014; della Porta 2007; Fernandez 2008; Graeber 2002; Graeber 2009; Juris 2008; Juris 2007; Juris 2004; Juris and Khasnabish 2013; Juris and Pleyers 2009; Katsiaficas 2006).3 To the first, this research adds comparative material through ethnographic detail of a particular chapter, proposes the concept of a direct action project to describe Food Not Bombs, and suggests some possible areas in which we, as volunteers as well as researchers, may have taken certain representations of Food Not Bombs for granted (e.g. Food Not Bombs is always in conflict with police). Beginning with a discussion of the use of key terms such as ‘global justice’ and ‘alter-globalization, I turn to the second body of literature. To this literature, my research details the emergence of a social movement (dis)organization that articulates with global justice and alter-globalization movements. I follow Graeber’s (2002) work on the anarchist tendencies within this movement. I also apply Day’s (2005) insight that these “newest” social movements are based on anarchist logics of affinity and solidarity rather than identity. Like Graeber (2009) and Juris (2008), among others, I describe the anarchistic logics and practices of Food Not Bombs. What is different in my approach is attention is paid to a direct action project that protests primarily outside of mass actions.4  																																																								3 See also Epstein (1991) for the ancestors of these movements and Collier (2005) for what many point to as the beginning of this movement (i.e. 1994 Zapatista uprising). 4 Antliff’s (2004) edited collection Only a Beginning: An anarchist anthology is exemplary in pulling together anarchist histories, ideas, debates, art, and memories in Canada that had/have not yet surfaced otherwise. 7		Inspired by Food Not Bomb’s slogan, “solidarity, not charity,” in the end of this dissertation I apply the concept, critique, and hope of direct action beyond Food Not Bombs to situations of hunger and charitable giving. This is not to say that what Food Not Bombs does is not enough; what I mean to do is take inspiration from their principles, logics, tactics, and critiques and suggest that these may even be applied beyond this particular direct action project. I first paint a picture of an anarchist dinner party, synthesizing the principles, logics, tactics, and critiques of Food Not Bombs, demonstrating their effective use of food as the central tool and message of their protest. I then juxtapose this against a picture of ‘charity,’ extending—and complicating—Food Not Bombs own self-representation as ‘solidarity.’ This move enables me to turn to charity more generally and look at possible ways to integrate ‘solidarity’ and, perhaps, a bit of anarchistic (dis)organization. Overall, this dissertation looks at direct action as an immanent critique that is deployed by what I call a direct action project, Food Not Bombs. There are two prominent themes woven into in this dissertation: attention to the ‘invisible’ and the emancipatory potential of food. While this dissertation does include records—or recollections—of mass actions, I am more interested in the banal rather than the dramatic because this is where the revolutionary potential of Food Not Bombs is located: a “revolution of everyday life” (Vaneigem 2001). Looking at the everyday means turning attention to the sometimes tedious acts such as cooking food. Rather than formal meetings like those attended by Fernandez (2009) or well-established to do lists like those created by the Alt Banking group (Appel 2013), and rather than the ‘sordid’ world of dumpster diving like that explored by Ferrell (2006) and Giles (2014) or the emotional intensity of being watched by police in riot gear documented by Fernandez (2008), the bulk of this story of 8		Food Not Bombs takes place in hidden places (see Scott 1990 on “hidden transcripts”). Like a glacier, rather than the moments where it pops to the surface in food distributions or mass actions, it is in this tedium of hauling boxes of produce and chopping parsnips until our fingers turn orange where the experiencia (Colectivo Situaciones 2007)—this “experience” and “experiment” that is the direct action project of Food Not Bombs—happens. It is not planned out in lists—at least we have not had a list that we actually follow through with. It does not always share the qualities of a riveting story like dumpster diving does—though those were certainly shared around the floor during food prep. It is this immanent, banal, and invisible practice of resistance on which I focus. So the invisible spaces of food acquisition, preparation, and even distribution (contra Heynen 2010) are where I focus this dissertation.  This attention to food is inspired by Food Not Bombs itself where clearly food is a central feature of their protest, but I develop my insights with and beyond Food Not Bombs. I look at the potential of food as a protest object given its incredible plasticity in its range of meanings and around which social life is organized (Appadurai 1981). Food Not Bombs draws on this potential, using food as the subject and tool of their direct action protest. In ‘invisible’ spaces such as the places where we picked up donations or the kitchen where we cooked or even the corner of Main and Hastings where we served, Food Not Bombs operated on an “ontology of the imagination” (Graeber 2009, 509-513), where we simultaneously imagined and created new practices (Bourdieu 1977; Certeau 1998) against inequalities perpetuated (at least in part) by neoliberalism.  Methodologically, this research is engaged and participatory while not being community-driven. This engaged, insider-activist research enabled me to access detailed, qualitative data and is also ethically responsible—a kind of participatory research with rather 9		than on (Menzies 2004, 15). This way, research “subjects” become more collaborators than objects. Since it is participatory, I discussed my research interests with other volunteers, listening to what they found important as well. I also regularly renewed consent throughout the project particularly when I took a photograph or wrote a direct quote. Overall, I combined my research interests and theoretical orientation with Food Not Bombs interests, focusing on documenting the food recovered, food served, and contestations over public space (if they occurred). Overall, our hope was to make visible that both food and people come to be wasted and for a potential societal benefit of a growing awareness and knowledge of non-violent activism working through food recovery and redistribution to bring about change.  This dissertation is divided into three main sections. The first is contextual, providing historical, theoretical, and methodological context; the second is ethnographic, describing the weekly food distributions and protest events of which Food Not Bombs Vancouver took part; and the third is applied, discussing anarchistic foodways and potential implications for policy. Context: Historically, I describe Food Not Bombs in general and Food Not Bombs Vancouver in particular, paying attention to emergence, logics, and the activist networks with which it articulates. Theoretically, I review literature on Food Not Bombs, direct action, and contemporary global justice and alter-globalization movements. Methodologically, I integrate my research objectives, methods, and reflect on my subjectivity as a quasi-insider-activist. Ethnography: In the ethnographic chapters, I begin by describing Food Not Bombs DIY protest logics then look at their anarchistic foodways including food acquisition, preparation, and distribution practices. I then follow their participation in three protest actions that amplify the message of Food Not Bombs by moving Food Not Bombs into spaces that collective action has made visible and contentious. Applied: The third section is the 10		culmination of this dissertation. Drawing together the theoretical context and ethnographic detail, I move from the particular to the broad: attributes of an anarchist dinner party, “solidarity” rather than “charity,” and the implications of that dinner party for reducing food-waste and hunger.                    11		CHAPTER 2 CONTEXTS: FOOD NOT BOMBS, DIRECT ACTION, AND USING FOOD AS A WINDOW INTO RADICAL WORLDS IN VANCOUVER  Walking into Terra and Luke’s colorful, eclectic home complete with DIY projects made by themselves, friends, or people with whom they shared their house, I immediately felt at home. Not because I am punk or anarchist but because this space and everyone in it was just so welcoming—and, again, eclectic. Food Not Bombs seems to have a way of bringing people together. While Food Not Bombs is certainly inspired by anarchist principles, it attracts hippies, punks, yuppies, students, stoners, hipsters, parents, sometimes kids, and everyone in between. Howard Zinn once said about Food Not Bombs, “those three words ‘say it all’” (McHenry 2012, 31). Providing “food, not bombs” is a concept many people can appreciate. However, it is the novelty of this collective effort and its constructive potential that attracted me. With Food Not Bombs men did not dominate the conversation, no one person insisted on a particular menu—provided it was still vegetarian, of course, and every pitched in—even taking turns chopping those pungent onions. After a year of volunteering with Food Not Bombs in California, I started conducting research, curious to discover the impulse of this anarchistic group. After another five years of volunteering and conducting research in Barcelona, Philadelphia, and Vancouver, I appreciate the message (e.g. “food, not bombs”), non-hierarchical social organization, and direct action tactics that creatively and constructively address hunger and waste in cities throughout the world. This research project looks at the production of anarchistic foodways as anarchist philosophy is translated into local contexts. In order to do so, I conducted ethnographic research with a local manifestation of a global direct action project, Food Not Bombs. For this dissertation, I draw heavily on participant observation with Food Not Bombs in the city 12		of Vancouver, British Columbia. Since this research focuses on political-economic and socio-cultural experiences of working with and about food, it attends to practices with and moral aesthetics of food as food-waste is recycled, prepared in anarchistic kitchens, and distributed in putatively public spaces. Overall, this research offers an intimate portrait of how people attempt to shift constellations of power and transform social life through everyday acts such as procuring food, cooking, and eating.   This chapter focuses on the theoretical, methodological, and local contexts of this research. It is constructed in such a way as to move from the broad to the particular: from Food Not Bombs as a global project to Food Not Bombs to Food Not Bombs in Vancouver; from direct action, global justice and alter-globalization movements, and food-in-protest to working with these concepts and contexts in my research with Food Not Bombs (in) Vancouver. In the first section, I describe how I encountered Food Not Bombs—reflecting briefly on my subjectivity as an insider/outsider and volunteer/researcher—and then introduce the history, principles, and practices of Food Not Bombs in general and then the history of Food Not Bombs Vancouver in particular. These introductions pave the way for the more general concepts (i.e. direct action, global justice movements, alter-globalization movement, and food in protest) that will be discussed in the literature review that follows. Next, I move back outward, discussing literature on historical conceptions and types of direct action, the global justice and alter-globalization movements and their use of direct action, and food in politics and protest. Here, I introduce broader literature that is applicable to understanding Food Not Bombs: direct action projects, anarchistic politics, and food as protest material. In this section, I propose that Food Not Bombs is best understood as a direct action project that is informed by anarchistic principles and practices. When it articulates 13		with, notably, the global justice and alter-globalization movements, I suggest Food Not Bombs is best described as a social movement (dis)organization. With this literature in mind, in the third section I focus back inward to discuss my methodology and methods. While still attending to the idea of direct action, I ground it once again within Food Not Bombs and, more specifically, Food Not Bombs Vancouver. While outlining research questions and methods and before moving on to the ethnographic chapters, I reflect on the ethics of conducting research as a quasi-insider/activist. 2.1 Research Context: Food Not Bombs I started on this journey with Food Not Bombs in my mid-twenties, a little old for the typical volunteer but nonetheless eager to do something concrete to protest war—specifically, the U.S.-led Iraq War. Looking at a variety of anti-war groups, the idea of endless meetings and standing on street corners holding signs did not strike me or my partner as particularly useful. Then we came across Food Not Bombs. Food Not Bombs stood out to us because it seemed like it might be a useful kind of protest; it drew attention to what we considered an untenable distribution of resources where wars were freely promoted while the burden of solving poverty and hunger was put on the very people suffering these social ills. Like Howard Zinn said, the name “says it all” (Zinn, as quoted in McHenry 2012, 21). In this dissertation I explore that idea: what does the name mean? What are their logics, ethics, and goals? How are those attributes realized in on the ground actions? I sensed Food Not Bombs is unique but what makes it so?  I first began to explore these questions during my time with Food Not Bombs Santa Ana. At that time I was taking a qualitative methods class for my MA Anthropology program and assigned a short-term fieldwork project. While I wanted to work with local shelters, I 14		found them unwilling to let me snoop about. So I turned to Food Not Bombs with whom I had been serving around 50 to 100 ‘homeless’ and low-income people every Sunday. The volunteers with Food Not Bombs Santa Ana let me write about what we did every week and why. It was when I began interviewing core volunteers that I was introduced to the idea of anarchism. Having grown up in a white middle class home, being a dancer, cheerleader, and honor student throughout my high school years, I simply had not encountered anarchism except in its stereotypical form: anarchy=chaos. Talking to one of these volunteers, seeing a video their friend made about “everyday anarchism,” and participating in the cooking, serving, and washing, I was introduced—not really theoretically but experientially—to direct action. At this point I was hooked: with Food Not Bombs I could protest by doing something constructive. At that point I asked, how does anarchism inform such a novel idea? At this point I turned toward Spain. At the suggestion of my advisor, I read Jerome Mintz’s (2004) ethnography, The Anarchists of Casas Viejas, and wanted to go to the country where anarchism took root: Spain. At that time in 2010 there were a few chapters listed in Spain with the most active being Barcelona. I contacted the organizer and a few months later my partner, sister, and I headed to Barcelona. Amidst the Gaudi architecture and the memories of Franco's repressive regime literally written in the streets—at the time, the City of Barcelona had put up plaques around the city with images to commemorate this time, I found Food Not Bombs Barcelona. It was in Barcelona that I encountered more radical aspects of contemporary anarchism. Unlike in Santa Ana, Food Not Bombs in Barcelona consisted entirely of anarcho-punk squatters whose entire lifestyle reflected their values. These okupas (squatters) did everything in their power to live a life both outside of and subversive to capitalism in an urban center. For food, they went dumpster diving. For 15		housing, they occupied abandoned apartments. For cash, they did street performance. For fun, they attended squat parties. In my MA thesis (Fessenden 2011), I wrote about how these anarcho-punks recycled aspects of mainstream culture to create their countercultural milieu.5 At this point I had participated in two very different chapters that were somehow still able to represent Food Not Bombs. This inspired my next question: what is it about Food Not Bombs that makes it able to be translated into such different contexts? While conducting doctoral research with Food Not Bombs Vancouver, I found that the principles, logics, and even tactics are adopted by autonomous chapters worldwide according to their local needs.  In the small but vibrant ethnographic literature on Food Not Bombs, the principles and stereotypical practices (e.g. dumpster diving) of Food Not Bombs are both well documented and sometimes taken for granted. In engaging this literature while conducting research in Vancouver, I have found there to be an unrecognized distinction between the idealized chapter and the way that ideal chapter actually exists on the ground. The consequence of this is to describe the way individual chapters operate but without comparing how they are localized differently. In this section, I will give a brief history of Food Not Bombs and a description of the ideal chapter by incorporating current ethnographic literature on this anarchistic (dis)organization. This will lead into the next section where I will look more critically at some of these taken for granted assumptions (e.g. Food Not Bombs is a ‘movement’) and suggest the development of alternative terminology such as ‘project’ rather than ‘movement.’  																																																								5 In “Recycled Identities: Anarcho-punx, organization, style, and reciprocity in Barcelona, Spain,” I, in conversation with volunteers, opted to use the pseudonym “People’s Picnic” for Food Not Bombs. Upon later reflection and conversation with those represented in the thesis, we decided that we wanted to use “Food Not Bombs” to disseminate its critiques and alternatives to other publics—besides, it was also already apparent to anyone familiar with Food Not Bombs what “People’s Picnic” stood for. 16		2.1.1 History of Food Not Bombs Food Not Bombs is a relevant case to use in order to look at contemporary anarchist protests because it draws on anarchist logics and it is widespread in its influence. The ideal(ized) chapter is most clearly articulated in Keith McHenry’s (2012) book, Hungry for Peace: How you can end poverty and war with Food Not Bombs. In this free publication, McHenry draws on his experience as one of the co-founders with Food Not Bombs to outline its vision and progress to date. From McHenry’s (2012) descriptions, academic publications related to Food Not Bombs (Giles 2013; Heynen 2010; Parson 2010; Shannon 2011; Spataro 2015), and my own participation and research, I have found the elements of the idealized Food Not Bombs chapter to include the following: organizes non-hierarchically using consensus, recovers food that would otherwise go to waste, serves in visible public spaces, and dismantles distinctions between those serving and those served. These attributes are born out of Food Not Bombs history with the non-violent direct action movement in the United States and its subsequent emergence within anti-war, global justice, alter-globalization, environmental, and anti-hunger movements. Locally and globally, at each weekly food action and at each protest action, Food Not Bombs chapters adhere to these three core principles adopted at its first international conference in 1992:  1. The food is always vegan or vegetarian and free to everyone without restriction, rich or poor, stoned or sober.  2. Food Not Bombs has no formal leaders or headquarters, and every group is autonomous and makes decisions using the consensus process.  3. Food Not Bombs is dedicated to non-violent direct action and works for non-violent social change. (McHenry 2012, 17)  Each chapter of Food Not Bombs invites people to cook, serve, and eat without regard to how those participants are racialized, gendered, or classed. The food that is cooked is 17		vegetarian or vegan so as to resist violence done to animals in industrial food production. Because it emerged out of the 1970s non-violent direct action movement, feminist egalitarianism, Quaker consensus processes, and non-violent civil disobedience informed Food Not Bomb’s formation (see Epstein 1991 for a history of the non-violent direct action movement). Food Not Bombs has existed for over thirty years, emerging out of the non-violent direct action—specifically anti-nuclear—movements in the 1970s United States (McHenry 2012, 97-98). Here, Food Not Bombs practiced direct action as a form of anarchist prefigurative politics: “The direct action movement has been about cultural revolution, its aim not only to transform political and economic structures but to bring to social relations as a whole the values of egalitarianism and non-violence.” (Epstein 1991, 16).  Food Not Bombs is primarily a direct action project:6 worldwide, autonomous Food Not Bombs chapters serve food on a regular basis to people who are hungry; they do this to protest the allocation of resources to fund war while people’s hunger remains. Since its inception in Cambridge, Massachusetts in 1980, Food Not Bombs has spread worldwide with perhaps over 500 chapters spread throughout almost every continent (Food Not Bombs FAQs. Accessed May 8, 2016. http://www.foodnotbombs.net/faq.html).  In addition to this temporal longevity and spatial extension throughout the world, Food Not Bombs also has a showing within anarchist networks and at major protests. In the 1980s, Food Not Bombs was present at many anti-nuclear demonstrations (McHenry 2012, 97-102). In the 1990s, Food Not Bombs was present at anti-free trade protests worldwide—including the UnFree Trade Tour that found its way to Vancouver (McHenry 2012, 105-106). 																																																								6 I define direct action project in detail in section 2.2.1. Briefly, direct action project refers simultaneously to both the process and product of weaving ideas, values, logics, and practices together following a logic of direct action. 18		In the 2000s, Food Not Bombs contributed to alter-globalization7 protests beginning with the 1999 Seattle protests against the World Trade Organization and the 2003 Free Trade Agreement of the Americas protests in Miami (McHenry 2012, 107). In recent years, Food Not Bombs was present at Occupy Wall Street demonstrations.  While Food Not Bombs began as part of an anti-nuclear movement and has had showings at major protests since that time, the message has always been intimately linked to food justice and, in fact, has often emphasized the plight of the poor (“food”) more than the destructiveness of war (“not bombs”). For example, the second chapter was established in San Francisco and while their first event was to serve protesters at the Nevada Test Site (McHenry 2012, 101), they ended up becoming infamous for their conflict with police in Golden Gate Park as they attempted to serve people who were hungry without a permit. On August 15, 1988, our small group of dedicated Food Not Bombs activists was surprised when 45 riot police marched out of the woods and arrested nine volunteers for sharing food without a permit. …a reporter from the San Francisco Chronicle… filed a story and photo about riot police arresting our volunteers for feeding the hungry. People all over the Bay Area were shocked… (McHenry 2012, 101)  After this initial arrest, more people came out to protest and more people were arrested. The story made its way to CNN, the London Times, and the New York Times. This story has repeated itself over the decades as Food Not Bombs chapters face increasing legislation that criminalizes hunger (see Stoops 2014 for a record of this legislation).    																																																								7 The language regarding this movement has shifted.  I use ‘global justice movement’ to refer to the whole of the movements including NGOs and other more formal organizations (della Porta 2007; Juris and Khasnabish 2013). Earlier, authors used the term ‘anti-corporate globalization movement’ (Juris 2008) or even took up the media’s term ‘anti-globalization’ (Day 2005). Like Khasnabish (2013), I use the term ‘alter-globalization’ to reflect the more anarchistic, autonomous, and direct action threads of this broader global justice movement. This will be discussed fully in the literature review on global justice and alter-globalization. 19		2.1.2 Principles and Practices of Food Not Bombs Built on an anarchist-inspired logic of direct action, the goal of Food Not Bombs is to subvert existing systems of domination and oppression while simultaneously creating new, decentralized, and non-hierarchical systems. The most famous direct action tactics of Food Not Bombs are 1) food recovery through dumpster diving and 2) food distribution in public spaces. At their most basic, these practices are aimed at confronting an unethical distribution of resources (e.g. war is funded while people remain hungry).8 In this section I will describe ‘Food Not Bombs’—or, rather, an ‘ideal’ version of Food Not Bombs. This ideal chapter is what we all describe when asked, “what is Food Not Bombs?,” what cofounder Keith McHenry (2012) writes about in his book, and what comes out when we as researchers try to simplify Food Not Bombs in such a way as to tease out the similarities in the midst of the diversity of Food Not Bombs experience. To begin with, here are a few emic descriptions of Food Not Bombs by volunteers with Food Not Bombs Vancouver elicited by the question, “How do you describe Food Not Bombs when someone asks you what it is?” Usually I say something along the lines of it’s basically a group of kids that want to feed people. There wasn’t really much more to it. It’s just if you want to help feed people then feed them. Just people who care, I guess, and are willing to put in a little bit of effort. Yeah, I can’t really remember, how did we describe it? Like a disorganized group of little feeders. . . . I can actually remember saying, there’s different chapters all over the world that all fall under the blanket of lawlessness: the three ‘no rules’ where there’s no leadership, or no leaders, there’s no hierarchy (I guess is better to say), there’s no agenda of political or religion, and the only real goal is its vegan/vegetarian. It’s really just about feeding people. And I know there’s more than that but that’s the gist of it, to me. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015)     																																																								8 Food Not Bombs protests war by drawing attention to and addressing an unethical distribution of resources: “With over a billion people going hungry each day, how can we spend another dollar on war?” (Food Not Bombs slogan as quoted in McHenry 2012, 36). 20		A lot of good food is going to waste while many people go hungry. Here, try this tasty and nutritious meal, and ask yourself why the perfectly good food that we used to make it would have been thrown away, if we had hadn't gotten to it first. (Gerrard, personal communication, November 22, 2015)  I say it's a loosely organized group of people who (at least in my Vancouver experience) are really committed to this project they've taken on. They are compassionate people who see how they can affect world issues and then they do something about it. They do things that are a socially out of the norm, like jumping in garbage bins, asking businesses for food, and serving and hanging out with people who are homeless, struggling, or just hungry, because it's more important than looking good. (Shayna, personal communication, September 15, 2015)  From these responses, my own experience, and the experiences of others, I posit these salient features of Food Not Bombs: 1) anyone is welcome, “stoned or sober;” 2) a commitment to nonviolence—in terms of tactics and food (i.e. the food itself is vegetarian or vegan and, ideally, donated); and 3) non-hierarchical organization (i.e. each chapter operates autonomously and according to consensus, being able to respond to local needs in an empowering manner. Food Not Bombs chapters incorporate these principles of non-violence, vegetarianism, non-hierarchical organization using consensus, and dismantling distinctions between those serving and those served. Each autonomous chapter of Food Not Bombs operates on a regular, often weekly, basis in their local areas. In addition to these logics and principles, Food Not Bombs chapters also use direct action tactics in their food acquisition, preparation, and distribution activities. For example, when they acquire food, they dumpster dive or receive donations. To prepare food, chapters use collective or common kitchens sometimes in someone’s home and sometimes in a community space such as a church or community center. To serve food, chapters find public spaces that where they sometimes have conflict with authorities over the distribution of food to ‘homeless’ people. In what follows, I will discuss these observations in more detail, adding the analyses of those who have gone before me in reflecting on the project of Food Not Bombs.  21		Food Acquisition. One goal of Food Not Bombs is to recover and use food that would otherwise have gone to waste. This food can either be donated or found through dumpster diving. Working with Food Not Bombs in Athens, GA, Nik Heynen (2010, 1228) helped pick up donations from the local food bank that had come there from local grocery stores and farms. Working with the Seattle chapter of Food Not Bombs, anthropologist David Boarder Giles (2013, 38) helped solicit donations from local markets. Sociologist Deric Shannon (2011, 43) described Food Not Bombs Seaboard as relying on donations from a local health food store. In McHenry’s (2012) book, he explicitly directs chapters to look for donations. On the Food Not Bombs website, dumpster diving is obscured, even overtly written against. However, I (Fessenden 2011) and other researchers (Edwards 2006; Giles 2013; Giles 2014; Parson 2010; Shannon 2011) have noted that chapters recover food from dumpsters. In fact, in Vancouver it is assumed that Food Not Bombs participants will have some local knowledge about where to “dumpster dive.” In the callout for beginning a new kitchen, Jacquie, one of the organizers wrote on the Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page, “Anyone got some good dumpsters sleuthed out?” (August 26, 2014).  The act of dumpster diving is not always revolutionary: some people dumpster dive for practical reasons, recovering items such as bicycle parts or picking up cans and bottles for money (Ferrell 2006). Others, such as ‘freegans,’ dumpster dive as a political tactic, finding this as a way to consume less for the sake of the environment and to resist capitalist exploitation (Barnard 2011; Black 2007; Clark 2004; Edwards 2006; Fessenden 2015; Gross 2009; Shantz 2005). I have found that Food Not Bombs volunteers generally agree that there is, at best, an amoral and, at worst, a sinister quality of capitalist profit motive. However, chapters vary in their usage of dumpster diving to critique and subvert capitalism. In 22		Barcelona, participants dumpster dive mainly for subsistence because they have chosen to live a life ‘outside’ of capitalism. In Vancouver, some participants dumpster dive to supplement items they purchase for themselves and some rely more heavily on dumpster diving for subsistence. In both of these places within the context of Food Not Bombs actions, dumpster diving is seen as a strategy to expose the wastefulness of and undermine capitalist food systems. When a chapter relies more heavily on donations, they maintain their critique of capitalism and meet their goal of redistributing food that would have otherwise been wasted. However, dumpster diving has an affective quality that makes it particularly poignant as a critique.  Wasted food is a necessary incident of capitalism (i.e. an outlet to sustain capitalism’s need for an outside in order for it to continue to expand) but provides an alternative to market participation (see Guthman and Dupuis 2006 on the necessity of wasting to capitalism). In “The Anatomy of a Dumpster,” David Boarder Giles (2014, 105-106) found that Food Not Bombs chapters participate in an abject economy: they take something potentially dangerous to social order out of its quarantine in the dumpster and eat it. Rescuing and eating this food underscore the edibility of that wasted food item. Writing about a punk kitchen in “The Raw and The Rotten: Punk Cuisine,” Dylan Clark (2004) highlights the fact that recovering “rotten” foods from a dumpster is a way to reject an unethical capitalist food system where people starve while edible food is wasted.  Whether by donation or dumpster, Food Not Bombs volunteers strategically recycle food that would otherwise have been wasted. By recycling food they avoid market participation (i.e. to resist the capitalist impulse to purchase food) and by eating and serving this food they highlight the fact that this food system wastes so much food. Giles (2013, 67, 23		80) points out that the food going into a dumpster or to a soup kitchen is in both places part of a non-market system where those consuming the food are assumed to not have been potential customers that would purchase the food in the first place. As such, Food Not Bombs volunteers avoid and even potentially subvert capitalist food systems that are partially sustained by wasting edible food rather than keeping it on the shelves a bit longer. In this way, they draw attention to capitalism’s wastefulness in the face of hunger. Food Not Bombs goes further than recovering wasted or about-to-be-wasted food, they collectively prepare and serve it. Once food is recovered, it begins its transformative journey in the kitchen. Food Preparation. Food preparation is a time for attempting to create a new society today. Notably, it is a time for experiments in non-hierarchical organizing. In his dissertation, Shannon (2011) blends production of culture and multi-institutional politics approaches to social movements to understand how participants with Food Not Bombs come to produce ‘culture.’ He points to the idea of “prefigurative politics” and says that such politics include a variety of non-hierarchical tactics (Shannon 2011, 52). In the kitchen, Shannon found that volunteers attempted non-hierarchical organizing in part by rotating tasks between volunteers (Shannon 2011, 44). One of the goals of Food Not Bombs is to use cooking as a time to practice consensus process especially when deciding what to cook but also while discussing upcoming actions. McHenry (2012) writes about this time as one for community building. I have found food preparation to be a time for learning, socializing—and socialization into radical worlds, and organizing.  In the kitchen, volunteers learn from one another things like how to evaluate foods for rottenness, that purple carrots exist, how to cook different foods (e.g. Juan taught us how to cook chard), and even how to dumpster dive—and to always clean up afterward. While 24		socializing, volunteers would also be socialized into radical worlds. Socialization happened in part through discussions that would focus on topics like the gentleman who was arrested for serving food in Florida, an upcoming Naomi Klein talk, or what ‘food not bombs’ stands for. Socialization also happened through practice and the transmission of habit: volunteers collaborate, take initiative, and participate in non-hierarchical social organization. We would listen to one another and take initiative, trading off who cut the onions or who hoisted the food up with the “pulley.” The kitchen was also the main place for organizing. While food acquisition was often done alone or in pairs, food distribution was just too busy, and while cleaning we would just be tired, food preparation was the best time to organize. We would strategize for upcoming events. Michael would discuss ideas for soliciting donations from a vegan bake sale. We would imagine larger kitchens from which to cook and how to expand or make our efforts more efficient. Once the food is processed, it continues its journey out of the kitchen and into the streets. Food Distribution. Food Not Bombs chapters worldwide strategically serve cooked vegetarian meals to people in visible public spaces. For example, in Barcelona one weekly food distribution occurred in front of the famous Sagrada Familia monument. Nik Heynen (2010, 1229 italics in original), working with Food Not Bombs in Athens, Geogria wrote, “Food Not Bombs … turned its attention to exposing hunger, to ensuring its visibility. Food Not Bombs thus seeks out not just public spaces, but especially visible (or symbolically important) public spaces” (see also McHenry 2012, 36; Spataro 2015, 8). In the literature on Food Not Bombs, researchers agree on the strategic and provocative use of public space by Food Not Bombs. Giles (2013) links food procurement to distribution. In his dissertation,      “‘A Mass Conspiracy to Feed People’: Globalizing Cities, World-Class Waste, and the 25		Biopolitics of Food Not Bombs,” Giles (2013) looks at Food Not Bombs volunteers’ habit of dumpster diving within globalized cities such as Seattle and Melbourne. In his analysis, Food Not Bombs dumpster divers and the people they serve are “non-market counterpublics.” When Food Not Bombs volunteers serve food in public, they exist in stark contrast with the image of the spectacular global city. In so doing, they expose the food capitalism wastes and the people capitalism marginalizes. Heynen (2010) elaborates on the democratic use of public space by Food Not Bombs, demonstrating that by serving food in public Food Not Bombs asserts the ‘right to the city.’ Heynen (2010) argues for the potential of Food Not Bombs to democratically, non-violently, and affectively resist neoliberal capitalism in the urban center. Through mutual aid and civil disobedience, Food Not Bombs overturns the biopolitics that contains—and therefore controls—homeless populations (Heynen 2010).  Political scientist David Spataro (2015) contributes a useful synopsis of these strategies that are consciously deployed by Food Not Bombs chapters. Spataro (2015) argues that Food Not Bombs uses public space to 1) show passersby what a non-capitalist, gift economy could look like, 2) promote conversations about “unequal distribution of resources,” “food insecurity, non-violent civil disobedience, and war,” and 3) engage in provocative conflict with city officials and police when they disobey laws that criminalize survival in public (e.g. panhandling, sleeping on sidewalks, food sharing). Political scientist Sean Michael Parson (2010) takes a historical perspective in his dissertation, looking at the conflicts between police and Food Not Bombs in San Francisco. He first defines Food Not Bombs food distribution to homeless people in public spaces without a permit as direct action. He then demonstrates that conflicts over public space were tied to policies regarding the homeless. To summarize, Food Not Bombs contests the idea of ‘public’ space: when 26		serving food to ‘homeless’ people in public spaces, they 1) make hunger visible and when they are cited for doing so they 2) demonstrate that only certain publics are allowed to gather in ‘public’ spaces.  One of the prominent stories that circulates about Food Not Bombs within Food Not Bombs chapters are the challenges faced by Food Not Bombs volunteers: finding rat poison and the like while head first in dumpsters, harsh penalties for volunteers for disobeying city ordinances aimed at dissuading food distributions in public (Mitchell and Heynen 2009; Parson 2010; Spataro 2015), dealing with FBI infiltration in cities such as Philadelphia (McHenry 2012, 108-109), and worldwide facing attacks from opposing groups such as neo-Nazis (McHenry 2012, 110).9 I have found that while these characteristics of Food Not Bombs chapters are certainly true, they may not be as widespread as is represented. For example, in Heynen’s (2010) article that focuses particularly on the contestation of public space, he also says that he never encountered police harassment or arrests with Food Not Bombs Athens. While there are a growing number of cities that are challenging free food distributors particularly in the U.S. (Stoops 2014), there are also a number of cities that ignore or tacitly accept food distributions. In Santa Ana, CA, Food Not Bombs volunteers serving at the Santa Ana Civic Center were simply ignored. While visible and symbolically important, it was also a location where police from neighboring cities dropped off ‘homeless’ people that they picked up on their streets. Similarly, Food Not Bombs Vancouver never encountered police attention at Main and Hastings despite it being a highly visible space. On the idea of consensus, I found that we never practiced ‘formal’ consensus with any of the chapters with which I participated. In fact, the one time it was attempted, it was more in jest.  																																																								9 The circulation of these stories has inspired further resistance: McHenry (2012, 103) says that Vancouver chapter began after these 1988 San Francisco arrests. 27		In terms of dumpster diving, while Santa Ana and Barcelona chapters relied on dumpster diving exclusively, Vancouver volunteers hardly served any dumpstered food since we had such an abundance of donated food.  With all of these caveats in mind, it can be said that as a global project, Food Not Bombs is defined by a set of core principles, logics, and practices. The ideal Food Not Bombs chapter is egalitarian, non-hierarchical, consensus-based, non-violent, vegetarian, and non-discriminating. Food Not Bombs ideally serves in public spaces that are visible. Food Not Bombs practices include acquiring food that would otherwise have gone to waste, preparing that food in collective kitchens, and serving food on a regular basis in these ideal spaces as well as supporting protest actions. Food Not Bombs works to address hunger in such a way as to highlight the need for food in a context of abundance. The food that will be shared is strategically recovered; it is food that would otherwise (or already did) go to waste. For example, Food Not Bombs chapters receive donations or “recycle” edible food that was tossed into a dumpster. Finally, the food is strategically shared in public spaces which forces people to confront the injustice of hunger especially when so much food is available and when the resources to fund war could be used to help relieve poverty and hunger. As an anarchist project, Food Not Bombs chapters refuse to apply for permits. By serving free food to people, they assert, “food is a right, not a privilege” (Food Not Bombs slogan). One additional element of Food Not Bombs practice is their (expected) appearance at protest actions. In addition to regular food distributions, Food Not Bombs works with other activist groups in larger protest actions. Here, they come in as a social movement (dis)organization, providing support and infrastructure for events that unfold. For example, Food Not Bombs 28		intersects with local and global indigenous, environmental, and feminist movements. With Food Not Bombs in Philadelphia, I served at the Urban County Fair—this protest used the strategy of developing a community space with a gardens and learning center out of a piece of neglected, though slated for development, city land.   Figure 1 Entrance to North Philly Peace Park, September 14, 2014. Photo by author.   Figure 2 Food Not Bombs food distribution at North Philly Peace Park’s Urban County Fair, September 14, 2014. Photo by author.  With Food Not Bombs Santa Ana, I served at the Occupy Wall Street demonstration to protest the institutions and systems that create wealth inequality and with Food Not Bombs Vancouver I served at the Oppenheimer Park occupation, Burnaby Mountain anti-pipeline protest, and #ShutDownCanada blockade. In addition to local protests, Food Not Bombs 29		volunteers travel to support mass actions. Protesting at the 2003 Free Trade Agreement of the Americas in Miami, McHenry (2012, 107) quotes activist Starhawk: Already the walls are full of signs, schedules, lists of the scarce housing resources here in Miami, of the workdays and marches and puppet fests planned for the next few days, sign-up grids for staffing and security, a small pile of tarps that will be used to catch rain and to cover the serving area in the parking lot where Food Not Bombs will feed us all.   Alongside indigenous protesters at the Seattle protests against the World Trade Organization in 1999, Food Not Bombs Seattle was there to set up convergence and Indymedia centers (McHenry 2012, 107). Graeber (2009, 236) notes that Food Not Bombs is one of the building blocks for mass actions.10 Its principles, direct action tactics, weekly appearance in local areas, and support of protest actions identify Food Not Bombs—these and the iconic banner with the revolutionary fist holding a carrot. 2.1.3 Food Not Bombs (in) Vancouver Over at least the last twenty years, Vancouver and its anarchist milieu have hosted multiple iterations of Food Not Bombs. Vancouver itself has been called “the anarchist capital of Canada.” While Food Not Bombs is not explicitly anarchist, my own participation and research with Food Not Bombs in the United States, Spain, and Canada as well as research conducted by others (see Giles 2013; Heynen 2010; Parson 2010; Shannon 2011; Spataro 2015) throughout the world demonstrate that Food Not Bombs draws on and practices within radical social networks, notably anarchist.11 At the same time, Food Not 																																																								10 Fernandez (2008, 5) demonstrates that the consistent and widespread actions of Food Not Bombs that have earned them a place on the FBI’s radar (Food Not Bombs. Accessed January 22, 2015. http://www.foodnotbombs.net/terrorism_allegations.html). These clashes with police have the effect of strengthening each chapters resolve, gaining new volunteers, motivating the establishment of new chapters, and further radicalizing current participants (see also Fernandez 2008). 11 While some of these authors have referred to Food Not Bombs as “anarchist,” I prefer “anarchist-inspired” or “anarchistic” because Food Not Bombs does not claim allegiance to any one political ideology or practice. In paying homage to its origin, Food Not Bombs could likewise be called feminist-inspired or Quaker-inspired. However, both volunteers and researchers note its predominantly anarchist inspiration. 30		Bombs chapters distance themselves from the more overtly anarchist wings of these networks. They do this through three of their attributes: Food Not Bombs is non-violent, invites anyone to participate regardless of political affiliation, and uses consensus to integrate a variety of positions. These attributes also allow each Food Not Bombs chapter the flexibility to adapt to a given environment, localizing itself according to the needs present and social networks available. In Vancouver, Food Not Bombs began to flourish in the 1990s during the height of the anti-free trade, alter-globalization protests. In October 1997, Food Not Bombs Vancouver served visiting protesters along with regular food distribution attendees during the “Unfree Trade Tour.” Activities during this three day event included “Thanks for Nothing!: An Anarchist Thanksgiving,” 30th anniversary commemoration of Che Guevara’s murder, International Day of Solidarity for Indigenous Peoples, and Free Skool workshops on both squatting and engaging in “critical mass rides.” The height of the tour was an evening at the Carnegie Center with “presentations and panels from activists opposing corporate globalization from Spain, Basqueland, San Francisco and Vancouver” (Jaggi Singh. 1997. Unfree Trade Tour Vancouver. October 6. Accessed October 2, 2015. http://www.ainfos.ca/A-Infos97/3/0550.html). On April 18, 1998, Vancouver hosted the first Reclaim the Streets event in North America. Food Not Bombs Vancouver served protesters in pouring rain at Grandview Park:  Free food, music, laughter, play and colors replaced the sterility and uniformity of corporate consumer culture.  The street, usually a mere metal conduit driven by greed and speed, was turned into a dance floor, a dining room, a theater, a play ground for people to enjoy life and assert the beauty of community. (Tom Boland. April 20, 1998. Accessed October 2, 2015. http://hpn.asu.edu/archives/Apr98/0305.html)  Over the years, Vancouver has worked with(in) radical social networks. Today, Rising Tide 31		Vancouver Coast Salish Territories, 38 Blood Alley, and Spartacus Books provide social networks and meeting spaces for radical politics. Food Not Bombs Vancouver continues to articulate with these social networks, spaces, and ideas. While Food Not Bombs Vancouver has been in and out of operation for over twenty years, in recent years it came to many people’s attention during Occupy Vancouver where Food Not Bombs was a primary food source for occupants of the tent city in front of Vancouver’s Art Gallery (Hui, Stephen. 2011. “Occupy Vancouver: Food Not Bombs Sustains Tent City with Vegan Food.” Georgia Straight, October 22. Accessed October 2, 2015. http://www.straight.com/blogra/occupy-vancouver-food-not-bombs-sustains-tent-city-vegan-food). From 1988 to 2015, Food Not Bombs Vancouver has moved from place to place, setting up at Grandview Park (1997), Victory Square (1997), Pigeon Park (2007) (Food Not Bombs Vancouver Blogspot. Last modified June 17, 2007. Accessed October 2, 2015. http://foodnotbombsvancouver.blogspot.ca/), the Commercial-Broadway station (2013-2014), the Smiling Buddha Cabaret at Main and Hastings (2014-2015), Jonathan Rogers Park (2015), and back to Grandview Park (2016), among other locations.   Throughout summer 2014, Food Not Bombs almost ceased to exist in Vancouver. One dedicated volunteer served smoothies made by a bike blender but the East Vancouver kitchen that had been hosted by a dedicated volunteer over the last eight years was not in operation. In July 2014, two women took up the Food Not Bombs banner—literally and figuratively. One of them, Jacquie, had already been serving food in the Downtown Eastside. Her girlfriend, known pseudonymously as Jane, suggested that they get in touch with Food Not Bombs Vancouver. When they found out that it was not currently in operation, they decided to resuscitate it. When asked what inspired her to start a chapter of Food Not Bombs 32		Jacquie replied, I realized it was possible to do what I was doing, which was to feed the Downtown Eastside, but bigger and a bit more people. And the fact that when I had heard about … the Vancouver chapter that was around during Occupy, I just wanted to get involved with them but they were kind of out of commission at the time so it just seemed like the next logical step was to do it out of our own kitchen … rather than just keep doing it by myself. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015)  Inspired by its DIY logics and anarchist-punk character, Jacquie and Jane first began to invite people to join them then began to organize and facilitate the next iteration of Food Not Bombs Vancouver.  My girlfriend and I will be handing out sandwiches and vegan split pea soup at Oppenheimer park tomorrow if anyone wants to come lend a hand. We could use some more containers, bread, and cutlery. I'm not really with FnB but I can't get ahold of anyone who is. Thought this might be a good place to start organizing something for those who are wishing to volunteer and donate their time. Get at me. I'm Jacquie (Jacquie. August 16, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page.)  Hi guys. Happy to report we are receiving a massive donation of serving and cooking supplies. This is an official call out for volunteers to get involved with the Vancouver chapter of Food not Bombs. My name is Jacquie, my girlfriend and I were at Oppenheimer last week and will be there again this weekend. Msg me to find out how you can get involved. We have a kitchen and will be collecting food donations so bring yo mama and yo bff and lets get some punk rock DIY belly feeding. The more the merrier! (Jacquie. August 20, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  Beginning with Facebook, Jacquie and Jane were connected with previous organizers who gave them information on both accessing the Food Not Bombs email and linking with donors for produce and bread donations. From here, they posted on Craigslist to solicit volunteers (Appendix A) and started to show up at Oppenheimer Park where a tent city had emerged and in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret. 33		 Figure 3 Jacquie and Aaron in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, November 2, 2014. Photo by author. (Jacquie heroically cutting bread with a butter knife)   During my research between September 2014 and August 2015, Food Not Bombs Vancouver protested about food and with food. Protesting about food—where food is used to draw attention to hunger and oppressive food systems, Food Not Bombs Vancouver served food to hungry people every Sunday in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret in Canada’s poorest neighborhood, the Downtown Eastside. As a direct action project, they drew attention to hunger and its perpetuation by oppressive systems (i.e. capitalism) while meeting people’s immediate need for food. Protesting with food—where food is a symbol or metonym for other issues, Food Not Bombs volunteers in Vancouver attended the occupation at Oppenheimer Park, the protest at Burnaby Mountain, and the #ShutDownCanada blockade. As a direct action project, they drew attention to the multiple forms of inequality and oppression such as lack of adequate housing, environmental degradation, and neoliberal capitalism. In the following chapters I will demonstrate through ethnographic detail the ways in which Food Not Bombs Vancouver uses food as the center of their direct action project to both critique injustice and provide productive possibilities for resistance.    34		2.2 Literature Review: Direct action, global justice and alter-globalization, and food in protest Sherry Ortner (2016, 47) begins her recent article, “Dark anthropology and its others: Theory since the eighties,” by foregrounding the fact that research is contingent on the world in which the researcher inhabits: Academic work, at least in the social sciences, cannot be detached from the conditions of the real world in which it takes place. The theoretical frameworks we use, and the phenomena we choose to explore, are affected in myriad ways by the political, economic, and cultural circumstances in which we carry out our research, even if that research is about the distant past or faraway places.  She goes on to describe what she sees as the primary context for research in anthropology: neoliberalism. Since the eighties, neoliberalism has given rise to a host of “dark” conditions (e.g. inequality and oppression of various kinds such as poverty and imprisonment). Ortner (2016) first describes “dark anthropology”: anthropologies that study the structures that create such dark situations and anthropologies that look at the how people experience this darkness. She then describes “anthropologies of the good” that include ethnographies that deal with issues of well-being, ethics, and resistance. Under the umbrella of “anthropology of resistance,” Ortner (2016, 61) includes critical work on issues of power and inequality, approaches to understanding capitalism, and social movement studies. This research project is part of this broader trend in anthropology: an “anthropology of resistance” that has emerged in the context of neoliberal globalization.12  The works cited within this section all link to this idea of resistance. From direct action to the “newest” social movements (Day 2005), the themes of cultural critique, rethinking capitalism, and activism within and against neoliberal globalization are present. Work with(in) Food Not Bombs actually necessitates a compilation of these three themes. 																																																								12 While inequality is certainly nothing new, neoliberalism,  35		Since Food Not Bombs critiques power and inequality, develops alternatives to capitalism, and engages in activism, I consider some of the salient theoretical and methodological influences on Food Not Bombs and how Food Not Bombs, in turn, contributes to those theories and methodologies. My goal here is to understand the logic of Food Not Bombs rather than analyze it from without. Therefore, I have turned my attention to topics of interest to Food Not Bombs: anarchistic perspectives related to direct action, global justice and alter-globalization movements, and the use of food in protest. Since these fields (anarchism and food studies) yield voluminous bodies of literature, I focus on topics directly applicable to this research: direct action—particularly anarchistic direct action, direct action in the global justice and alter-globalization movements, and the roles of food in social life and protest.   I begin this section with a brief history and description direct action. Direct action has been a central logic and tactic of, though not limited to, anarchistic projects. Following authors such as Voltaririne de Cleyre (2005) and David Graeber (2009), I juxtapose direct action against indirect or reform-oriented politics. At its heart, direct action means to create more just worlds in the present. Direct actions such as those used by Food Not Bombs are creatively productive. Alternatively, direct actions such as those used by Hansen (2001) are destructive. What links them is first their commitment to acting outside of political channels, to ‘do’ rather than ‘ask.’ In addition, the tactics themselves create a preferable (e.g. non-hierarchical) future in the present. After defining direct action, I pause to propose two concepts: direct action project and social movement (dis)organization. Seeing a need to clarify what Food Not Bombs is, I propose the use of the term ‘project’ to describe Food Not Bombs and then develop the idea of a direct action project. This term simplifies the at times disparate use of terms used to 36		describe Food Not Bombs (e.g. non-branded tactic (Day 2005), social movement (Giles 2013), anarchist group (Parson 2010)). ‘Direct action’ refers to the primary logic and strategy: making change immediately rather than asking for it to be done at some later time. ‘Project’ draws attention to Food Not Bombs as a group, a practice, and a future goal.  Direct action project highlights the immanence of critique with action as it is acted out by a particular group. I also have begun to use the term (dis)organization when referring to Food Not Bombs role within the global justice and alter-globalization movements. While Shannon (2011) refers to Food Not Bombs as a “social movement organization,” I suggest social movement (dis)organization to be a more apt description. ‘Social movement (dis)organization’ creates a happy disjuncture between the formality and “business sense” implied by the term ‘organization’ with the ultimate goal of teasing out the potential of the more anarchistic aspects of a (dis)organization that will be discussed in the conclusion. After introducing these concepts, I then turn to the global justice and alter-globalization movements. Food Not Bombs articulates with global justice movements—in Vancouver one example is their work alongside Idle No More to oppose pipeline expansion—and the alter-globalization movement—Food Not Bombs is a key feature of alter-globalization infrastructure such as their work in/as the Occupy kitchens. As such, I define and delimit these movements then look at relevant literature related to these movements—and their direct action inclinations. I begin with Epstein’s (1991) description of the non-violent direct action movement out of which Food Not Bombs emerged. I then shift to contemporary global justice movements and, more specifically, the alter-globalization movement, bringing in the ethnographic reflections of Graeber (2002; 2009) and Juris (2008; 2009). Here I pause to note the ideas of Gibson-Graham (2006) and their theoretical 37		observation that capitalism already includes non-capitalist spaces. To this I add Graeber’s (2009) discussion of “political ontologies of the imagination” and Appadurai’s (2013) “politics of possibility” to see how these movements explicitly make a more ‘just’ future today. In the final section, I discuss the roles of food in social life and in protest moments. Food Not Bombs chapters use food as a central feature of their protest—in fact, food is simultaneously the site, symbol, and tool of their protest. Food is a “highly condensed social fact” (Appadurai 1981), serving as a node for politics, economics, and social life and capable of carrying multiple meanings. These attributes of food make it a poignant object—and subject—of protests. By moving from the idea of direct action to its use by Food Not Bombs as part of these global justice and alter-globalization movements, I directly explore the literature related to Food Not Bombs praxis—especially their tactical use of food in protest. This literature review provides the setting for the stage where, in the following chapters, I will present ethnographic detail on Food Not Bombs weekly food distributions and in its participation within global justice and alter-globalization movements as an anarchistic (dis)organization. 2.2.1 Direct action and direct action projects Direct action has a long history within and without anarchist circles. This section will sample literature on direct action, incorporating Marxist and pacifist approaches while highlighting anarchist-inspired constructive direct action—since that is Food Not Bombs’ lineage. David Graeber’s (2004, 7) definition of anarchism as a project, resonates with the spirit of direct action: [anarchism] sets out to begin creating the institutions of a new society within the shell of the old, to expose, subvert, and undermine structures of domination but always, 38		while doing so, proceeding in a democratic fashion, a manner which itself demonstrates those structures are unnecessary.  This definition of anarchism as a project highlights 1) the possibility of constructing alternatives today in the midst of dominating systems, 2) the manner in which those alternatives are created has the potential to “expose, subvert, and undermine structures of domination,” and 3) it is creatively productive. This particular definition fits well with direct action logic. While direct action has manifestations outside anarchist circles, as an anarchist logic and protest tactic its purpose is to subvert existing systems of domination while creating something new and less oppressive in its place.  Writing in the early 20th century, the anarchist Voltaririne de Cleyre (2005, 273-274) wrote,  Every person who has ever thought he had a right to assert, and went boldly and asserted it, himself, or jointly with others that shared his convictions, was a direct actionist… Every person who has every had a plan to do anything, and went and did it, or who laid his plan before others, and won their cooperation to do it with him without going to external authorities to please do the thing for him, was a direct actionist.   For de Cleyre, direct action simply meant doing things outside of formal political channels. She juxtaposes direct action with “political action” or “indirect action” (de Cleyre 2005, 274). This broad definition carries throughout different understandings and uses of direct action. For example, having exhausted legal channels (i.e. indirect action: voting, petitions, etc.), people may choose direct action. De Cleyre (2005) gives examples of boycotts and the underground railroad. Still juxtaposing direct action against political action, the Marxist William Mellor (1920, 15) in his book Direct Action writes,  Direct Action can, in a general way, be defined as the use of some form of economic power for the securing of ends desired by those who possess that power. Taken in this general sense it is merely another name, when employed by the workers, for the strike, when used by the employers, for the lock-out. It is an attempt on the part of the 39		workers or of the employers to extract advantages for themselves by their control over the economic life of society.   While Mellor defines direct action more narrowly than de Cleyre (i.e. direct actions are limited to strikes and lock outs) and situates his call to direct action in a belief in the inevitability of the dictatorship of the proletariat—differing from anarchists, his initial plea for direct action may resonate. For example, Mellor sees capitalism as already open for struggle: “Fortunately for the world there is no free and unhampered development of Capitalism. The wage-slaves are everywhere questioning the diving right of their masters” (Mellor 1920, 10). As mentioned previously, he defines direct action inclusively, adding direct actions on the part of employers (i.e. lock outs) as well as the workers. Finally, he juxtaposes direct action against political action, noting the uselessness of political action (i.e. voting): “The road to freedom lies not through the polling-booth, but through the workshop gates” (Mellor 1920, 51). For the purpose of my work, he locates the struggle (i.e. class warfare) as a struggle for the basic material of life: Bread and butter are the fundamentals of all existence, and in a world in which the supplies of bread and butter are unfairly distributed is a world marked by social injustice and social inequality. This fundamental economic inequality affects every sphere of life … (Mellor 1920, 9-10)  While Mellor views the economic as the foundation for all other aspects of life, his observation of inequality still resonates.  In his 1963 “Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” the Christian civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. defended his direct action with the Alabama Christian Movement for Human Rights on the basis of his understanding that there was injustice and there were underlying causes of that injustice that could not be addressed in any other way. Reminiscent of the anarchist Bakunin’s 1871 (Dolgoff 1971) statement that he is only free insofar as others are 40		free, King wrote, “a threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.” Like many others who engage in direct action because they exhausted all other legal means, King stated, “It is unfortunate that demonstrations are taking place in Birmingham, but it is more unfortunate that the city’s white power structure left the Negro (sic) community with no alternative.” The direct action tactics King mentioned in this letter include marches and sit-ins. Marches can be seen as more of an appeal or an opening of a discussion, in this case, a discussion prompted by the circulation of images of peaceful black bodies being violently attacked by white police. Sit-ins, on the other hand, are more like anarchistic direct actions insofar as they claim a ‘right’ to something or, in other words, prefigure a more ‘just’ future.13 Like de Cleyre’s (2005) use of the term, direct actions focus on the integration of means and ends. For example, for an African American to sit at a ‘whites only’ counter is both a tactical confrontation of exclusion and, simultaneously, proceeds as if that exclusion did not exist.  At the same time as Martin Luther King Jr., Black and Red Power Movements throughout the U.S. deployed direct action tactics. For example, the Red Power Movement in the 1970s United States performed a direct action when they reclaimed a dilapidated government building, repurposing it as a school (Krouse and Howard-Bobiwash 2009). The Black Panther Party used direct action to address police harassment: They followed police officers, often with visible loaded guns and dressed in leather militaristic looking uniforms as a way of directly stopping police harassment in their neighborhoods they placed their bodies in the way of police officers. The goal here was not to get the Federal or state governments involved in monitoring the officers but rather to embody some form of autonomy and control. (Parson 2010, 13)   																																																								13 King’s conception of rights and justice comes from a transcendent source, namely the Christian god, whereas anarchists would generally oppose this kind of hierarchy. 41		These techniques all share the qualities of stepping outside of legal or “indirect” political channels to solve a problem. Direct action techniques may be more or less destructive or constructive, confrontational or subtle, violent or non-violent. Parson (2010, 13) defines “defensive-destructive” direct action as “obstructing an ongoing action or an attempt to subvert an established institution.” Parson (2010, 13-14) compares this with “creative” direct actions that he describes as constructive, wherein what is constructed challenges the “power of the current state.” In Vancouver, the group Direct Action used violent, destructive techniques while the non-violent direct action movement used non-violent, defensive techniques. Examples of “creative” constructive groups include Reclaim the Streets, Really Really Free Markets, Homes Not Jails, Indymedia, and Food Not Bombs.  For Ann Hansen (2001), direct action was a last resort, encompassing tactics that fall outside the bounds of legality. Direct actions provided her and her comrades a way to create a more just world. For example, the City of Vancouver had tried and failed to close Red Hot Video, a video store showcasing violent, abusive, and pornographic films. Together with the Wimmin’s Fire Brigade, they threw firebombs into the video store. With the popular press and added pressure from the cities that hosted the chain, many closed. More famously, Hansen and four others (under the group name “Direct Action”) set a bomb to explode at the Litton Systems plant. Litton’s ‘crime’ was the manufacturing of cruise missile parts. In order to stop the destruction wrought by cruise missiles, Direct Action set explosives that harmed the plant. Looking back at her work, Hansen said,  When Direct Action began its militant campaign, we had no illusions about being able to change society on our own. We knew that no single demonstration or bombing would bring any substantial change. But we did hope to inject a more militant political philosophy and action into the movement for social change. We hoped to show people that we should not allow the legal boundaries defined by those in power [to] determine how and when we would protest. (Hansen 2001, 471) 42		Direct Action and Wimmins Fire Brigade used direct action tactics that were violent and destructive. While certainly different from those tactics deployed by King, they served the same purpose of acting outside of representative democracy and involved crimes that ostensibly did less harm than those industries (e.g. weapons manufacturing) and institutions (e.g. patriarchy, misogyny) they attacked. The non-violent direct action movement of the 1970s used the same logic of direct action but did so using non-violent tactics. In Political Protest and Cultural Revolution, Barbara Epstein (1991) describes various projects within the non-violent direct action movement, specifically anti-nuclear direct action protests. Examples of direct actions used by anti-nuclear activists are the blockade and occupation. The Clamshell Alliance was formed in 1976 in New Hampshire to protest building of Seabrook nuclear power plant.14 They were influenced by Quaker practices of nonviolence and consensus. The Clamshell Alliance organized picket lines, petitions, and teach-ins to raise public awareness. Epstein (1991, 82) identifies the Clamshell’s local, community-based nature with a concrete goal (i.e. a nuclear power plant and not nuclear war in general) was its strength. While Direct Action and the Clamshell Alliance would be identified as “defensive-destructive” in Parson’s terms, they actually had constructive components. The organization of these groups was constructive insofar as they used non-hierarchical organizing techniques. The Clamshell Alliance used consensus process and affinity groups in order to organize non-hierarchically, democratically, and along lines of solidarity. Reflecting on anti-nuclear projects like the Clamshell Alliance, Epstein wrote, “build[ing] community was at least as important as the immediate objective of stopping nuclear power” (Epstein 1991, 123). From this perspective, creativity is infused in the social organization of those projects that primarily deploy defensive or destructive direct action 																																																								14 Participants with the Clamshell Alliance created Food Not Bombs. 43		tactics. Furthermore, Day (2005) observes the constructive element in ‘destructive’ groups. Discussing the tactics of groups such as Earth Liberation Front, Day (2005, 26) writes,  I would suggest that most actions oriented to impeding flows have a constructive moment, precisely to the extent that they prevent or limit the havoc wreaked by industrial capitalism. Human private property will have little value once we have all died of cancer or radiation sickness.   While ‘destructive’ projects may be constructive, “creative” projects are more explicit in their use of productive direct action tactics. For example, Reclaim the Streets activists close off parts of a street, obstructing traffic—part of the infrastructure of capitalism, in order to host a party for all. Really Really Free Markets pop up in parks and other public spaces and participants give away anything from art to clothing to record albums. Through Homes Not Jails, volunteers create livable spaces out of abandoned buildings. Indymedia provides a venue for distributing news outside of corporate media.  From strikes to bombs, direct action tactics have been variously used by anarchist and anarchistic groups.  Direct actions such as those used by Food Not Bombs are creatively productive. Alternatively, direct actions such as those used by Hansen are destructive. What links them is first their commitment to acting outside of political channels, to ‘do’ rather than ‘ask.’ Second, what links them is that the form of the tactics prefigures an alternative future. For those productive direct action networks such as Food Not Bombs, this can be seen in the production of food outside of capitalist markets, collective cooking, and sharing food with strangers.15 Destructive direct actions such as the fire bombing of Red Hot Video, prefigure a future without the violence of patriarchy and misogyny insofar as they destroyed one of the means through which these vices were reproduced. In Graeber’s (2009) view, one primary 																																																								15 Day calls Food Not Bombs “parasitic” in the sense that they recover food wasted by capitalism (Day 2005, 210). Giles (2013) similarly discusses the symbiotic relationship between Food Not Bombs and the waste created by “world class cities.”  44		objective of direct actions is to reject the ‘mainstream’s’ denial of the possibility of a non-hierarchical, anarchist society. Through state violence and media portrayals, the “mainstream achieves a powerful ‘reality effect’” (Graeber 2009, 488). Opposing this effect, anarchist direct actions are performed rituals “immediately efficacious in the world” (Graeber 2009, 361). Though the tactics exist temporarily, they give the impression that ‘authentic’ community, non-hierarchical organizing, and non-market systems are possible. Before moving forward, I pause to define these terms: tactics, movements, and networks. I then propose the term project and develop the concept of a direct action project to describe groups like Food Not Bombs. First, I differentiate direct action tactics from direct action projects or networks. Direct action tactics are the immediate strategies used in place of formal political appeals. Examples of direct action tactics are strikes, sit-ins, blockades, firebombing, hosting a street party, buying debt then paying it off for pennies on the dollar,16 and food distribution. Tactics may even include longer-term indirect projects such as the construction of a school though, at this point, it is likely that the tactic is merged with other tactics and forms of social organization to become a direct action project. This is the case with Food Not Bombs who uses a diversity of tactics such as dumpster diving and distributing food without a permit.  While direct action tactics themselves may be temporarily enacted, the projects and networks have extended throughout time and space: the first Reclaim the Streets party was in London but street parties have since occurred in cities worldwide; Indymedia started in Seattle but likewise centers have emerged in cities worldwide; and Food Not Bombs began in Cambridge but chapters now exist on almost every continent except Antarctica. These projects have sprung up without any central organizing committee but, rather, the ideas and 																																																								16 Strike Debt project (http://strikedebt.org/) 45		logics of each are taken up and localized in a number of places worldwide. This differs from Day (2005) who calls Food Not Bombs, Indymedia Centers, and Reclaim the Streets “non-branded tactics.” The idea of “non-branded” is an important designation; it draws attention to the refusal of these projects to adhere to the logic of branding that hides the alienation and oppression involved in, particularly, multinational corporate industry (see Klein 2009). However, these groups are not defined by one tactic. Instead, they use a number of tactics and also employ non-hierarchical forms of organization. Therefore, I refer to groups such as Food Not Bombs or Reclaim the Streets as direct action projects.  Like Food Not Bombs own self-description, Giles (2013) refers to Food Not Bombs as a social movement. From a conceptual standpoint, Food Not Bombs does not qualify as a social movement in and of itself. At its most basic, a social movement is a collective effort to enact social change. It may be more reformist or more radical. It may be local, national, or transnational. Assessing the different potential of indigenous social movements in the United States and Canada, sociologist Rima Wilkes (2006, 512) synthesizes the sociological literature on social movement and lists these criteria for a social movement: “purposeful political challenge for change, the presence of multiple instances of collective action with noninstitutional tactics, the involvement of social movement organizations/networks of organization, and the need for a large-scale collective identity.” While Food Not Bombs chapters strategically challenge the status quo in order to institute change, engage in collective action, use tactics outside of “normal political channels,” and network with other groups, they do so as an independent project. There are, however, qualities that make Food Not Bombs appear to be a social movement. For example, they employ noninstitutional tactics such as distributing recovered food in public. They regularly engage in these tactics, 46		often on a weekly basis recovering food that would otherwise go to waste, cooking collectively, and distributing food for free in public spaces. On occasion, Food Not Bombs volunteers network with other groups and organizations for the purpose of large-scale protest actions. During these moments, Food Not Bombs participates in social movements while not itself being a social movement.  Parson (2010) and Shannon (2011) refer to Food Not Bombs as an organization and a social movement organization, respectively. Because Food Not Bombs is part of social movements—and the global justice and alter-globalization movements in particular—it is appropriate to refer to Food Not Bombs as a social movement organization. However, the designation ‘organization’ brings to mind “business sense” as in “non-governmental organization”—which, as is noted in the introduction, is not a preferable designation. Furthermore, ‘organization’ implies too much similarity or even hierarchy. Like Jacquie, I refer to Food Not Bombs as a social movement (dis)organization. This way, the messiness of the project of Food Not Bombs is foregrounded and, from here, it is easy to focus on the locality and difference of each autonomous chapter—and, sometimes, its literal disorganization. The ultimate goal is to create a happy disjuncture between social movement organizations and (dis)organizations in order to tease out the potential of the latter even outside of protest moments. Giles (2013, 14) describes his research as following a “transnational cultural logic.” While he does not apply this specifically to Food Not Bombs—rather, he emphasizes the extension of logics that facilitate and inform the networks of which Food Not Bombs is a part, even capitalism’s transnationality—I find this a useful concept with which to understand Food Not Bombs. It highlights the fact that there are threads that connect Food 47		Not Bombs chapters but those threads to not add up to an object called Food Not Bombs. Instead, Food Not Bombs chapters appear and disappear in different clothing in different places (or even the same place) worldwide. However, “transnational cultural logic” does not capture the differential translation of “Food Not Bombs” into local spaces. Jeffrey Juris (2007) refers to projects such as People’s Global Action, World Social Forum, and Movement for Global Resistance Barcelona as (transnational) networks. For Juris (2004), the term ‘network’ emphasizes the decentralized, autonomous, horizontal qualities of these movements. While an essential designation and description of these struggles, drawing attention to their articulation with and alongside postmodernism and late capitalism (see also Jameson 1991), it may imply more connection between chapters than actually exist. Instead, I propose the term ‘project’17 to refer to Food Not Bombs.  Direct action project refers simultaneously to both the work and result of weaving ideas, values, logics, and practices together following a logic of direct action. According to the Oxford Dictionary (2016), as a noun ‘project’ refers to “[a]n individual or collaborative enterprise that is carefully planned to achieve a particular aim”; as a verb to project is to “[i]magine (oneself, a situation, etc.) as having moved to a different place or time.” As a noun, ‘project’ encompasses a process reaching toward a goal undertaken by an individual or by collective effort. As a verb, ‘project’ reaches toward the future. I hope to draw attention to the fact that the project(s) of Food Not Bombs is/are ongoing in its negotiation, development, and localization as well as includes particular aims and future plans.  																																																								17 This term has taken hold in my thinking since I read Graeber’s (2004) definition of anarchism in Fragments of an Anarchist Anthropology where he refers to anarchism as a “project”—quoted in this section on defining anarchism. Graeber (2004, 7) states, “It [anarchism] is also a project that sets out to begin creating the institutions of a new society within the shell of the old, to expose, subvert, and undermine structures of domination but always, while doing so, proceeding in a democratic fashion, a manner which itself demonstrates those structures are unnecessary.” 48		Rather than an identity and larger than a singular tactic, Food Not Bombs is a project(s). Referring to Food Not Bombs as both a singular ‘project’ and as plural ‘projects,’ I note that ‘Food Not Bombs’ can reference—sometimes simultaneously—the worldwide project or the local chapters as projects. In both cases ‘project’ emphasizes the ongoing work of Food Not Bombs. Food Not Bombs chapters as projects: local chapters are projects insofar as they weave the logics and principles of Food Not Bombs—as a worldwide project—within the social networks of the volunteers, according to the needs of their local area, guided by their resources, and limited by their time. Food Not Bombs as a worldwide project: this emphasizes the combination of ideas and practices that constitutes Food Not Bombs transnationally. Defining Food Not Bombs projects (i.e. local chapters) against Food Not Bombs as a project (i.e. transnational logic) is a bit of a false dichotomy. In reality, Food Not Bombs constitutes itself locally and globally simultaneously: the internet (e.g. Food Not Bombs website, Food Not Bombs Facebook page, Facebook pages of Food Not Bombs chapters), travelling volunteers, or encountering Food Not Bombs in the streets or at protests spread both ideas and practices, cross-pollinating both the local and the global.  I follow Tim Ingold (2000) in his use of the term weaving as opposed to making. Ingold’s (2000) thesis is that one does not start with an idea in mind that is then imposed on the world; instead, the form arises within a context that may include the skill or experience of the maker and the materials at hand. While it is impossible to locate all possible factors—due to my own cultural blind spots (i.e. taking certain things for granted and thus simply not noticing them) or simply forgetting what happened a moment ago—I bring forward salient factors that I repeatedly noticed in the field and were sometimes discussed overtly by participants. Understanding Food Not Bombs simultaneously as a project and projects 49		motivates a look into the factors that are woven into its formation. Later in this dissertation, I explain that direct action logic, anarchistic principles, and DIY ethic are woven together within particular social networks, by certain people, with some resources at hand, and working with food (i.e. food in both its socio-cultural significance and its material properties) not bombs. It seems that to define a group whose primary attribute is its immanence of ideas and practice is not only a challenge I find myself in, it is one hinted at by Day (2005) who nods to the possibility that perhaps ‘social movement’ is not really the appropriate term for the ‘anti-globalization movements’ that are largely anarchist-inspired or, at least, primarily direct action protests. Juris and Pleyers (2009) propose the term “alter-activism” to try to draw attention to the “alternative values and practices” such as non-hierarchical organizing, the use of “creative direct action,” and the development of alternatives ways of being within their protest tactics that is characteristic of certain threads—particularly youth—of the alter-globalization currents in the global justice movements. Graeber (2002) simply calls this thread “anarchist.”  In Argentina, direct action, autonomous, and otherwise radical projects have called themselves experiencias. ‘Experiencia’ refers to both an experiment and an experience, as Colectivo Situaciones (2007) explains. “The word experiencia connotes both experience, in the sense of accumulation of knowledges of resistance; and experiment, understood as a practice” (Colectivo Situaciones 2007). They describe themselves using a noun that actually just acknowledges what they do (or, rather, what they find themselves doing). By using the phrase ‘direct action project’ I hope to accomplish something similar. Like Colectivo Situaciones and other experiencias, Food Not Bombs is defined by an interpenetration of 50		their logics and practices but carried out in local spaces by particular networks of people according to specific needs. It is at once local and global, territorialized and deterritorialized. The idea of Food Not Bombs is bigger than any one chapter but it does not exist without each individual chapter. Therefore, Food Not Bombs should be considered a project that is motivated in part by a transnational logic that there should be food rather than bombs and we can find, recover, and share that food without partaking (too much) in capitalist markets. 2.2.2 Global justice and alter-globalization movements This section is inspired by Food Not Bombs history within social movements that includes, but is not limited to, non-violent direct action, global justice, and alter-globalization movements. In reviewing the literature pertaining to these social movements, I will locate Food Not Bombs emergence out of and role within these movements. Food Not Bombs was imagined in an activist cultural moment known as the non-violent direct action movement in the 1970s United States. From this beginning, Food Not Bombs has helped produce the global justice and, more specifically, alter-globalization movements. Specifically, Food Not Bombs is instrumental in social movement building through activist foodways where volunteers are socialized into radical worlds, chapters that function as a node for activist networking, and the more obvious actual participation in mass actions where Food Not Bombs joins with other social movement organizations and (dis)organizations.  Before moving on to discussing these movements themselves, I will delineate the terms I have chosen to use for these movements. The non-violent direct action movement is well-documented by Epstein (1991) and refers to the commitment to non-violence and to the use of direct action tactics that were employed by activists who were, notably, protesting nuclear arms build-up notably in the U.S. in the 1970s. These groups were known for their 51		commitment to a kind of prefigurative politics where, like Food Not Bombs itself, they constructed new forms of social organization while protesting what they found to be injustices.  ‘Global justice movement’ generally refers to a host of movements—sometimes called the ‘movement of movements’—that center around environmental concerns, women’s or indigenous rights, or anti-capitalist activism (della Porta 2007). The global justice movement(s) emerged alongside the intensification of neoliberalism—including massive market deregulation, the expansion of privatization, and the withdrawal of social services (Harvey 2005)—since the 1980s that addresses issues such as, but not limited to, capitalism, ‘free’ trade, environmental degradation, war, debt, and injustices at times in such a way that prefigures alternatives (Day 2005; della Porta 2007; Graeber 2002; Graeber 2009; Juris 2008; Juris and Pleyers 2009; Klein 2002). Activists generally make a connection between the expansion of (multinational) corporate power no matter who is excluded and at what environmental, health, or social costs—or even life itself (see the Situationist authors for an early critique of the “society of the spectacle” such as Debord 2002, Lefebvre 2003, and Vaneigem 2001). As a ‘movement of movements’ (della Porta 2007), it encompasses indigenous, environmental, anti-war, ethnic, racial, and gender issues, projects, and organizations. The organizations and (dis)organizations that make it up may be more or less formalized (e.g. autonomous, direct action groups protesting alongside NGOs) (della Porta 2007). For Day (2005) and Graeber (2002), this movement is characterized by a newer quality: anarchism.  The ‘global justice movement’ has also been called the ‘anti-corporate globalization movement’ (Juris 2008), ‘globalization’ and ‘anti-globalization movement’ (Graeber 2002), 52		and ‘alter-globalization movement’ (Juris and Pleyers 2009; Khasnabish 2013). ‘Anti-globalization movement’ was a term created by the media that ignores the movement’s use and advocacy of certain kinds of globalization (Graeber 2002). If globalization is taken as synonymous with neoliberal globalization, then ‘anti-globalization movement,’ for the aforementioned reasons, is apropos. While neoliberal globalization facilitates the free movement of (corporate) capital notably through ‘free’ trade agreements and the support of multilateral institutions such as the International Monetary Fund, it prohibits the free movement of people—and even ideas. For this reason, Juris (2008) refered to this movement as an anti-corporate globalization movement. This term focuses attention on a primary argument: corporations are getting more rights at the cost of ordinary people (see Appadurai (2013) on politics of probability). Similarly, Graeber (2002) uses the phrase ‘globalization movement’ to highlight the forms of globalization for which movement participants advocate: free movement of people and ideas. As Graeber (2002, 63) reflects, in meetings activists use ‘anti-globalization movement’ and ‘globalization movement’ interchangeably. More recently, Juris and Pleyers (2009) and Khasnabish (2013) have used the phrase ‘alter-globalization’ movement to reference the fact that activists are not against globalization but prefer an alternative form of globalization to neoliberal globalization.   In this dissertation I use the term ‘global justice movement(s)’ as an umbrella term when referring to the broader movements that involve formal and informal groups—and (dis)organizations. I use the term ‘alter-globalization’ when referring to the anarchistic, autonomous, direct action-oriented threads. Like Graeber (2002) and Day (2005), I have witnessed the emergence of anarchistic logics within contemporary protests. I think it is useful to separate a larger global justice movement from these anarchistic threads since not 53		every movement within global justice would sympathize with or is characterized by anarchism. Furthermore, not every protest taking place within the framework of “global justice” is anarchistic. Therefore, the purpose of differentiating the two is to at once note the thread within which Food Not Bombs is most directly related (i.e. ‘alter-globalization’) while, at the same time, noting their role in this larger movement (i.e. ‘global justice’) since not all of the protests within which they participate as a social movement (dis)organization are alter-globalization protests.  In Political Protest and Cultural Revolution, Barbara Epstein (1991) describes various projects within the non-violent direct action movement, a movement that was one thread of the new social movements following the collapse of the New Left that included civil rights and student movements. Characterized by anarchist and countercultural influences, the non-violent direct action movement began in the anti-nuclear protests of the 1970s (Epstein 1991, 33). In contrast to the working-class base of the 1930s movements, informed by Marxist analysis and strategy (Epstein 1991, 22, 227) and born out of the community-building cultural politics of the New Left (Epstein 1991, 36), the non-violent direct action movement grew up as late capitalism unfolded: “Though many of the new movements of the late 1970s and 1980s criticize existing American culture and are trying to construct more liberatory relationships, the NVDAM [non-violent direct action movement] addresses this task most explicitly” (Epstein 1991, 55). She writes that prefigurative politics was one major characteristic of the non-violent direct action movement: “For the anarchists, creating a community that would both prefigure the better society and give its members a sense of power in the present was a major goal of political activity” (Epstein 1991, 109). In order to achieve this goal, they prioritized gender and racial issues, collapsed distinctions 54		between the personal and the political and created a revolution of everyday life.  Moving from the old to new to newest social movements, Richard Day (2004) broadly traces a genealogy of the logics of struggle. Old social movements are characterized by a Marxist-inspired Gramscian logic: class-based revolution will overthrow the capitalist nation-state and be felt throughout the “widest spectrum possible” (Day 2004, 722). New social movements, emerging in the 1960s through 1980s, incorporate counter-hegemonic logics that contest multiple sites of oppression that extend beyond class struggle including race and gender as well as environmental concerns (Day 2004, 722). These new social movements paved the way for contemporary movements notably insofar as they incorporated the personal and linked together the means and ends (Day 2004, 723). Within newest social movements the orientation turns away from the state and away from counter-hegemonic projects.18 By studying movements such as the “anti-globalization movement,” Day encounters a diverse and changing transnational network of activist groups, making him hesitant to even consider it a social movement (2004, 728). While there is such diversity in the locations, strategies, and participants in this anti-globalization movement, Day uses the phrase “newest social movement” because it signifies the “resurgence of struggle that has coincided with the intensification of the global reach of capitalism and its electronic systems of exchange and surveillance”—otherwise known as societies of control (Day 2004, 728; Deleuze 1992). Day considers the interlinking struggles that make up the alter-globalization movement while not reducing the individual organizations, tactics, or other components to the movement.  																																																								18 Day (2004, 718) says that he uses the term “newest” both “guardedly” and “ironically,” recognizing that there is nothing categorically new about these contemporary movements while, at the same time, describing distinctive emphases and strategies. 55		Outlining the recent history of direct action politics in the United States, David Graeber (2009, 228-237) highlights the social movements out of which contemporary direct action techniques emerged: 1960s New Left, 1960s the feminist reaction to the patriarchy of the New Left, 1970s anti-nuclear movement and adoption of Quaker processes. Graeber’s (2002) article, “The New Anarchists” explicitly situates anarchism as the central impulse of the “globalization” (or, global justice) movement.  While the prominence of direct action tactics within this global justice movement is new, they have been used in earlier social movements. For example, the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s used direct action tactics such as sit-ins. Epstein (1991) describes the non-violent direct action movement of the 1970s and 1980s that focused primarily on subverting the proliferation of nuclear power—and therefore nuclear war—through the use of blockades and other direct action tactics. These direct action tactics began to proliferate within the emerging global justice movement. At the same time the global justice movement includes not only a diversity of issues and organizations but a diversity of tactics.  In all these campaigns, to different degrees, fragments of diverse cultures—secular and religious, radical and reformist, of younger and older generations—have been linked to a broader discourse with the theme of social (and global) injustice as an adhesive, while still leaving broad margins for separate developments.… In parallel, the enemy is singled out as neoliberal globalization … These policies are considered to be responsible for growing social injustice and its negative effects on women, the environment, the South, and other groups. Alongside social justice, the meta-discourse of the search for new forms of democracy has emerged as a common basis. … As in subsequent mobilizations, protest not only developed outside the parties, but also expressed strong criticism of existing forms of representative democracy. In this process, an action frame was created around the belief that “another world is possible.” (della Porta 2007, 16)  In Donatella della Porta’s (2007, 6) introduction to The Global Justice Movement: Cross-national and transnational perspectives, she describes the global justice movement as 56		a “loose network of organizations” that have collectively mobilized to promote and demand justice.19 Della Porta (2007) describes the global justice movement as a “movement of movements”: a name that captures the heterogeneity of issues that are reflected in ‘the’ global justice movement. The idea is that any one issue (e.g. women’s rights, environmental justice, anti-capitalism) is not subordinated to another but, rather, co-exist within this frame of global justice (della Porta 2007, 15). She specifically includes economic, social, political, and environmental justice as the cornerstones of this transnational movement. Della Porta (2007, 22) asks, how are the values of  “autonomy, creativity, spontaneity, and self-realization” mobilized collectively? Richard Day’s (2005) book, Gramsci is Dead, answers just this question. He posits that instead of identity politics, the key attributes of the newest social movements are solidarity, affinity, and difference. Instead of analyzing Food Not Bombs through the conceptual framework used to evaluate social movements, a more apt comparison are direct action projects and networks such as Reclaim the Streets and Independent Media Centers. Following Day (2004, 730), these projects transcend the “hegemony of hegemony.” Instead of claiming hegemonic power by demanding reform or revolution, Reclaim The Streets, Independent Media Centers, and Food Not Bombs create new forms of life today; they operate not on a “logic of hegemony” but on a “logic of affinity.” Day (2004, 730-731) calls these projects “non-branded tactics” that incorporate “affinity-based, direct action politics.” Day argues that the “logic of hegemony,” is insufficient to understand the newest social movements because it focuses on a “politics of demand” rather than “politics of the act.” Politics of demand refers to 																																																								19 Della Porta (2007) presents a more complete picture of this “movement of movements,” naming NGOs and other more formal organizations involved, whereas Graeber (2002) and Day (2005) focus on its anarchistic inspiration and action. Juris and Pleyer (2009) look more narrowly, locating the movement’s anarchistic youth participation.  57		hegemonic projects which are necessarily limited because form (e.g. state, capitalism) is uncontested and even perpetuated through antagonisms. Politics of the act creates new forms (Day 2004, 733-734). Direct action, for example, subverts alienating and oppressive institutions rather than pleading or waiting for reform.  In the 2000s, alter-globalization protesters targeted the World Trade Organization, International Monetary Fund, World Bank, and other national, corporate, and supranational bodies through mass actions in major cities. While media representations ignored anarchist principles such as non-hierarchical organization, strategies such as consensus process, and creative practices that critiqued specific policies, a growing body of academic literature—as well as independent media—has looked at the on the ground actions, principles, strategies, and critiques incorporated in these actions—notably, the edited volumes by Graeber and Shukaitis (2009) and Juris and Khasnabish (2013) as well as Graeber’s (2009) book Direct Action.  Jeffrey Juris’ (2008) article, “Performing Politics: Image, Embodiment, and Affective Solidarity during Anti-Corporate Globalization Protests,” highlights the principles, strategies, and critiques that informed the Prague action against corporate globalization. The Prague action took place as the International Monetary Fund and World Bank met in Prague in 2000. The Prague action was organized by a number of affinity groups throughout Europe and included projects such as the Movement for Global Resistance based in Barcelona, Ya Basta! from Italy, and Reclaim the Streets from England. This action involved rallies and marches—the goal of which is to create a public spectacle, appealing to publics outside of formal electoral politics where only certain people and issues are highlighted. Like other rallies and marches, this one involved large numbers of people with signs, slogans, and chants that 58		question authority and highlight injustice. In addition, organizers decided to create a street performance or party. Graeber (2009, 381) describes these as “carnivals against capitalism” and suggests that these are “meant to make an impression on an outside audience” and be experienced as an expression and experience of solidarity and collectivity against alienation and oppression. In addition, the Prague action incorporated blockade strategies that involve placing bodies in the way and joining hands and linking arms sometimes with tools. Incorporating these strategies, the Prague action was comprised of three distinct groups: the Pink March, a low-risk militancy and non-violent blockade using festive tactics (e.g. drumming, dancing, pink and silver attire, Samba band, radical cheerleaders, pink fairy with a feather duster); the Yellow March, an intermediate zone with some direct but non-violent confrontation (e.g. padded bodies, inner tubes as shields, and most in white overalls); and the Blue March, a higher risk militancy that involved black bloc actions (e.g. stereotypical “anarchists” in ski masks, all black, with Molotov cocktails, and some property destruction) (Juris 2008). This eclectic march exemplifies 1) the varieties of direct action tactics, 2) the successful coming together of these diverse groups who do not all agree on tactics but still come together in solidarity, 3) an approach to non-hierarchical organizing (i.e. the use of affinity groups and consensus) that brought together groups across national boundaries. Like many direct action tactics, the Prague action not only destabilized the World Bank and IMF meetings but suggested that perhaps there are other ways of being in the world. Graeber (2009) discusses an ontology of the imagination that is defined by creativity. Graeber (2009) juxtaposes “political ontologies of the imagination” against “political ontologies of violence.” Political ontologies of the imagination ignore the “reality effect” that leads one to believe the world must be as it is. Political ontologies of violence maintain a 59		particular hierarchical structure by threatening anyone who would diverge from that structure. Writing about the “economic imagination” at Occupy Wall Street, Hannah Appel (2013) suggests that neoliberal globalization may not only be an enemy but also provides the tools for its own undoing. Here, Gibson-Graham’s (2006) insight into the potential for new forms to emerge within the cracks of (non-totalizing) capitalism is foundational. Gibson-Graham describe capitalism as neither totalizing nor singular; it includes non-capitalist spaces. Therefore, they argue that it is possible to create new forms through these fissures, widening them in the process. Juris (2009, 213) identifies a “wider networking logic associated with late capitalism” that is used by movement activists. Appel (2013) points to not only the imagination of the business of finance itself which can be used for alternative banking practices but also that some of the alternative finance is coming out of the very centers of capitalism itself (e.g. the Federal Reserve). Taken together, these observations mean there is a need for imagination that goes beyond what is given while, at the same time, recognizing that what is before us might already be a more just space that simply needs to be expanded. When Graeber (2009, 521-523) discusses a political ontology of the imagination, he draws attention to an older definition of the imagination that is linked to the everyday: As Agamben (1993), among others, have pointed out, in the common Ancient and Medieval conception, what we call “the imagination” was considered the zone of passage between reality and reason. Perceptions from the material world had to pass through the imagination, becoming emotionally charged in the process and mixing with all sorts of phantasms, before the rational mind could grasp their significance… once we stop thinking of the imagination as largely about the production of free-floating fantasy worlds, but rather as bound up in the processes by which we make and maintain reality, then it makes perfect sense to see it as a material force in the world—or, anyway, at least as much as violence.   Similarly, Appadurai (2013) writes of a “politics of possibility” that involves the anticipation 60		and making of a good life. It is a politics of the future realized in the present. Appadurai (2013) conceives of this politics not as an intangible dream but, rather the making of the good life in the here and now.20 This idea of imagination-as-material force can be elaborated on with Ingold’s (2000) observation that worlds are woven rather than made. Ingold (2000) describes a process of weaving—rather than making—that acknowledges a variety of forces that cause a thing to emerge. Instead of an idea (e.g. a mental picture of a basket) that is then realized, a variety of forces (e.g. skill of the basket maker, physical properties of the materials used), combine with an idea for a thing to emerge.21 Bringing together this concept of imagination and this concept of weaving, it is possible to say that imagination is a material force that participates in the weaving of worlds. These definitions of imagination and possibility emphasize thinking toward the future and creating alternatives today in such a way that there is no distinction between form and substance (Ingold 2000, 61). Direct action as a logic and practice sits squarely in the center of this idea of immanent, imaginative, possibility.  Back to Juris’ (2008) description of the Prague action: this action shows that militant action operates on a political ontology of the imagination and produces public imagination. By performing politics in the streets, activists show the fissures and possibilities in and beyond capitalism. These actions contest “ontologies of violence” (Graeber 2009) through asserting “ontologies of the imagination” by re-making the world today—rather than waiting for reform. In the case of Food Not Bombs—like many (dis)organizations and projects associated with the alter-globalization movement—their protest also exemplifies a politics of 																																																								20 Appadurai (2000; 2013) includes the role of the imagination in people’s daily life of people. Appadurai (2000, 6) applies this concept more broadly (e.g. to the force behind migrations, “resist state violence”) while Graeber’s (2009) purpose is to differentiate between those who maintain the status quo (e.g. police) and those who do not (e.g. activists). 21 I apply this idea to the use of food in protest in section 3.2.2. 61		possibility. Like Appadurai’s (2000, 6) conception of the role of the imagination in daily life, Food Not Bombs weaves a more just world by working with food’s symbolic potential, economic implications, and material properties just by cooking and eating.  2.2.3 Food in protest Anthropology has long accounted not only for the diversity of foods and manners of eating cross culturally but also with the theoretical understandings of what food means and how it is (re)productive in social and cultural life. Anthropologists have been interested in food and consumption, food and language, food and rituals, food and social distinctions, food and globalization, and food and the senses (see Mintz and Du Bois 2002). As Watson and Caldwell (2005) note, food is so central to social life that it is unthinkable to discuss any aspect of culture without reference to food. Food is a unique node that gathers together diverse aspects of social life: food is simultaneously implicated in cultural identity, religion, economics, politics, gender, class, and kinship. Furthermore, food provides opportunities for both reproduction and contestation of cultural forms. Appadurai (1981, 494) observes that food is not only a “highly condensed social fact,” but it is one that has incredible plasticity in its range of meanings. Food’s biological imperative, its social significance, and its potential for both reproduction and contestation are attributes that are drawn on in protest actions. As an object of anthropological gaze, food has been recognized as a crucial moment of socio-cultural (re)production: (re)producing not only human life but cultural norms and distinctions such as class and gender. Early in the history of the discipline, anthropologists took note of food. One of the founders of the discipline, Franz Boas (1966), wrote extensively about the importance and centrality of the potlatch in Kwakwaka'wakw life: the potlatch is a feast that provides the opportunity for titles to be given, relationships 62		strengthened, and resources distributed. Later in this history of the discipline, Claude Levi-Strauss looked for the underlying structure of social life. In his quest, he analyzed myths by looking to food as his muse. Levi-Strauss (1969) posited that socio-cultural worlds are built on coded oppositions based on food-based metaphors such as ‘the raw’ (nature) and ‘the cooked’ (culture). In symbolic anthropology, Mary Douglas (1972) finds that food is an aspect of cultural life that encodes and reaffirms social relations and values. In her analysis, she found that foods can point to ‘purity’ or ‘danger.’ If a ‘dangerous’ (e.g. taboo) food is eaten, that person excludes themselves from social life. If a ‘pure’ food is consumed, that person participates in social life.  Writing about socio-cultural distinction-making, Bourdieu (1984) found that food is involved in the (re)production of distinctions such as class and gender. Food, and other markers such as clothing, is associated with moral aesthetic tastes that define particular groups (Belasco 2007; Le Wita 1994). Since foods are imbued with particular meanings and have the ability to include or exclude, food is a site of judgment and contestation. As such, food embodies multiple and often contested discourses. A relevant piece that draws on Levi-Strauss, Douglas, and Bourdieu’s insights is Dylan Clark’s (2004) article, “The Raw and the Rotten: Punk Cuisine”. Clark describes the ideology and work of punks in a collective kitchen. In this kitchen, punks privilege “raw” (e.g. whole foods) and “rotten” (e.g. dumpstered foods) over “cooked” (e.g. processed) foods. By refusing “cooked” foods, they oppose colonial, capitalist food systems that destroy the environment and poison those who consume such mainstream “junk food” (Clark 2004, 20). By promoting vegetarian, whole, and dumpstered food to contest aspects of culture from patriarchy to capitalism, they tacitly acknowledge the way food is a poignant site and symbol of culture. 63		These insights into the social and cultural meanings of food have been complemented by studies that look at economies and politics of food in an increasingly globalized world. From a political-economy perspective, Sidney Mintz’s (1985) ethnography, Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History, looks at the globalization of a local food: sugar. Mintz (1985) understands sugar through the history of slavery, the emergence of worldwide trade, and power. In so doing, he exposes the ability of a single commodity to change tastes, work relationships, and even how we eat (see also Bestor 2000). Moving in the opposite direction, Daniel Miller (2005; 1997) investigations the localization of global commodities. He demonstrates that commodities, even ‘dominating’—and even imperialist—brands such as Coca-Cola, are not just localized but consumed in such a way as to be part of a local identity. While Mintz shows the dominating power of food-as-commodity, Miller’s insights illustrate the latent ability of food, even dominating food, to be incorporated locally. As such, food can be simultaneously global and local, even shifting between these poles in any given moment as Wilk (1999) describes with the emergence of “real Belizean food” (see also Errington and Tatsuro 2013). Food is not just a source of calories: encapsulated in food is the way it came to the table, from its production to its negotiated cultural identity. Furthermore, the act of eating carries with it profound social meaning. Appadurai (1981, 494) defined “gastro-politics” as “conflict or competition over specific cultural or economic resources as it emerges in social transactions around food.” In Hindu South Asia, he found that food was a site where conflicts, specifically about status, arose. At a Tamil Brahmin table, what, to whom, and when it was served carried messages about the relative status between host and guests. When there was ambiguity regarding a person’s status, the host chose to either heighten or lessen the guest’s status relative to their 64		own simply by what they served and in what manner. Appadurai (1981, 495) asks, “What do particular actions involving food (and particular foods) ‘say’? To whom? In what context? With what immediate consequence? To what structural end?” While Appadurai applied these questions to gastro-politics in a more private domain, it has implications for collective action in public space as well. Because of food’s biological and cultural importance, its capacity to carry multiple meanings, and its role in the global economy, it is a poignant site and symbol for protests. Historically, food has a wide range of uses in protests worldwide. What follows is a sampling of the use of food in protest. Food can be destroyed: in France, during the Penmarc’h fish strike in 1909, local fishermen and their allies destroyed all imported fish by throwing it into the sea (Menzies 2011, 50-53). Food can be refused: to protest British colonial rule in the middle of the 20th century, Mahatma Gandhi used hunger strikes. Food can be displayed: in 2011 in Tunisia, demonstrators held up bread to protest rising food prices (2011. “ ‘We can live on bread and water…but not with this ruling party,’ say Tunisia protesters as they take to the streets again.” Daily Mail, January 18. Accessed March 14, 2016. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1348315/Tunisia-riots-We-live-bread-water-ruling-party.html). Food can be used as a projectile: in the U.K., an anti-austerity protester threw an egg at a conservative party delegate (Ramaswamy, Chitra. 2015. “Beyond a Yolk: A Brief History of Egging as Political Protest.” The Guardian, October 5. Accessed March 14, 2016. http://www.theguardian.com/world/shortcuts/2015/oct/05/history-egging-political-protest-britain.). Each of these examples involves a particular food, audience, and method chosen for a specific protest goal. With respect to direct action protests with food, some can be destructive and some constructive. One example of a destructive direct action involving food 65		was the Penmarc’h fish strike wherein protesters destroyed tuna, an imported fish. Since local fish prices had declined due to the importation of tuna, fishermen destroyed the supply of imported fish in order to decrease its supply and therefore raise prices on their own local fish. For Food Not Bombs, an “extremely productive” (Day 2005, 40) direct action tactic is taken: free food is distributed in public spaces. At its most basic level, people can have food without needing to pay for it or ask the government to subsidize it.  Taking into consideration anthropological insights into food and its role in social life, it is apparent that food is at once material and symbolic. In protests, it seems food—as well as other things used in protests—has a few potential and overlapping roles. Food can be a tool used in protest (e.g. Ghandi’s hunger strike where refusing food was a tool to draw attention to colonial rule), the subject matter of the protest (e.g. Penmarc’h fishermen protesting importation of fish), a protest object where it is intended for observation (e.g. Tunisians protesting rising bread prices by holding up food while gathered in public spaces), or a form of nutrition to sustain protesters (e.g. the kitchen at Occupy Wall Street locations). For Food Not Bombs activists, food is central to the direct action project: a site of solidarity as well as an opportunity for practical and ethical skirmishes. Through recycling, processing, and distributing food in autonomous (or semi-autonomous) spaces, Food Not Bombs act out a direct action project strategically focused on the complex node of food both within and without the global justice and alter-globalization movements. 2.3 Research Objectives Beginning this research, my overall research objective of this project was to gain an anthropological understanding, through ethnographic description and analysis, of the translation of radical, namely anarchist, political philosophy into local action through food. 66		Specifically, I asked how anarchist practices surrounding food acquisition, preparation, and distribution critique and even subvert existing social, political, and economic systems and construct new ones. As such, I considered subversive and constructive logics and practices then looked at how these logics and practices are contextualized within a particular location (e.g. Vancouver) and by a particular radical project. In order to answer the first question, I teased out the subversive and constructive logics and practices of Food Not Bombs Vancouver specifically surrounding food acquisition, preparation, and distribution. I considered how anarchist-inspired direct actions, especially surrounding food-waste and space, subvert existing systems and construct new ones. What systems of oppression are targeted and potentially dislocated? How is this accomplished? How might activities such as dumpster diving or serving food illegally in public spaces act within and against habituated social dispositions (e.g. tastes) and/or capitalist or neoliberal state systems? In order to answer the second question, I looked at 1) Food Not Bombs strategies within the city of Vancouver, 2) the opportunities and constraints on Food Not Bombs Vancouver’s activism, and 3) its relationship with charities, activist projects, and state representatives. Here, I consider constraints and opportunities for anarchist direct action within wider contexts. One of the goals of Food Not Bombs is “solidarity, not charity.” What does this look like on the ground? How do volunteers stand in ‘solidarity’ with those they serve? How does this extend to their work with other groups, charities, or activist networks? Finally, I look at the infamous nature of Food Not Bombs uneasy relationship with state representatives. What are legal constraints on Food Not Bombs practices? How does the city government define and control threats? How are those negotiated? Are the controls effective or do they inspire further resistance (Rethmann 2006)? 67		These questions led me to attend to Food Not Bombs Vancouver’s logics and practices and how those articulate with Food Not Bombs as a global project and how they articulate with other social movement organizations and (dis)organizations. The data presented in this dissertation includes ethnographic detail on Food Not Bombs Vancouver’s work on its own and as it joins with other organizations and (dis)organizations. My particular experience has led me to interrogate some taken-for-granted statements about Food Not Bombs including the assumption that Food Not Bombs is a social movement and that they strategically serve food in visible, public spaces where they are regularly confronted by police. It is through working with a chapter that acquired, prepared, and served food invisibly, making very little if any appeal to other publics, that made me question some of these assertions. In other words, when Food Not Bombs Vancouver served food, they did so out of the gaze of those ‘in power’22 to change the unequal food systems within the city.  This dissertation emerged from these questions and initial observations. In sum, this research contributes ethnographically to literature on Food Not Bombs and theoretically to the anthropology of resistance notably by developing the concepts of a direct action project and social movement (dis)organization. By teasing out the anarchistic potential in Food Not Bombs protest, I look to apply these findings, addressing hunger and poverty in a context of neoliberalism. 2.4 Methodology The ideas brainstormed, plans hatched, schemes discarded, itineraries planned, logistics worked through, and arguments settled all require, in part, interpersonal meetings and fact-to-face encounters that enable the embodying of affinities. In 																																																								22 While certainly power is distributed unevenly, I, with Food Not Bombs, believe that it is possible to take power. It is in this sense that Food Not Bombs encourages anyone to not only eat but prepare and serve food as well. In fact, a man who was having difficulty finding housing and food was surprised to discover that Food Not Bombs did not screen volunteers but welcomed anyone. Of course, it was rare to have someone other than a millennial who was having difficulty paying rent volunteer.  68		particular, it is the conducting of action with others—in demonstrations, blockades, street theater, etc.—that forge bonds of association crucial to the creation of common ground. (Routledge 2009, 86)  In order to answer the questions of how anarchist ideas are translated into on the ground action and what potential might they have outside of protest moments, I conducted ethnographic research over a twelve-month period (September 1, 2014 to August 31, 2015) with Food Not Bombs in Vancouver. This research with Food Not Bombs is first and foremost research with rather than research on. As a former participant with Food Not Bombs in Southern California and a visitor to Food Not Bombs chapters in Barcelona and Philadelphia, I have experienced and supported Food Not Bombs overall goals and tactics. Therefore this project is envisioned as a kind of activist anthropology. Drawing on six years of experience with Food Not Bombs, including one year of intensive research in Vancouver, this engaged ethnographic inquiry provides a window into how Food Not Bombs participants in Vancouver resist oppression and alienation in activist moments and in everyday life. This ethnography also provides a comparative perspective: research with Food Not Bombs in Vancouver builds on my previous research with Food Not Bombs in Santa Ana, Barcelona, and Philadelphia.  2.4.1 Field Site: Vancouver Vancouver is a relevant field site for exploring contemporary anarchism in Canada notably through the lens of Food Not Bombs. First, Vancouver hosts a number of anarchist and anarchist-inspired networks and infamous actions—I was actually introduced to Vancouver as the “anarchist capital of Canada” (personal communication, 2014). Second, Food Not Bombs has time depth in Vancouver as it has persisted there for at least twenty years as one of the first chapters to emerge in Canada. Third, Vancouver hosts the poorest 69		neighborhood in all of Canada therefore provides an especially salient and provocative place for Food Not Bombs to strategically operate. Fourth, the City of Vancouver has a number of initiatives such as “zero waste” and “the right to food” which provide a formal contrast to Food Not Bombs informal tactics.  While debatable whether Vancouver is, in fact, “the anarchist capital of Canada,” it has certainly inspired a number of infamous anarchist actions and hosts concentrated networks of anarchists. When I describe my project to people, invariably many of them mention the “Vancouver Five.” In doing so, they point to the Vancouver-based group Direct Action (Hansen 2001). I have also been told of the ‘riots’ that occurred during the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics—the rioting was attributed to black bloc actions (2010. “Anti-Olympic Rioters Smash Vancouver Store Windows.” CBC News, February 13. Accessed October 20, 2015. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/anti-olympics-rioters-smash-vancouver-store-windows-1.870509). While these violent actions take the media’s attention, I argue that there are multiple non-violent projects and everyday practices that are more pervasive than these violent moments in Vancouver.  Notably since the 1960s Vancouver has been home to the New Left—including anarchists and feminists—and, in the 1970s, punk movements (Martin 2015, 12). Food Not Bombs articulates with these radical movements. In fact, the place where Food Not Bombs Vancouver served food from 2014 to 2015 was at the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, a famous punk rock space notably in the 1970s and 1980s (2014. CTV News Vancouver. Accessed October 8, 2015. http://bc.ctvnews.ca/video?clipId=215468&playlistId=1.1575340&binId=1.1184694&playlistPageNum=1). In addition to punk styles in Vancouver, 38 Blood Alley hosts additional, 70		more specifically anarchist events such as workshops on “What is Anarchism and Can it Work?” (38 Blood Alley Facebook page. 2015. Accessed February 2015. https://www.facebook.com/events/715395398577501) and information nights on, for example, squatting rights and techniques (38 Blood Alley Facebook page. 2015. Accessed March 2015. https://www.facebook.com/events/610608359041453/). Vancouver also hosts a number of other activist—indigenous, environmental, human rights—networks of which Food Not Bombs has been and continues to be a part.  Food Not Bombs has existed in Vancouver since at least the late 1980s when its inception was inspired by the news of the 1988 arrests of Food Not Bombs activists in San Francisco. Over the years, it has been involved in a number of major actions including Reclaim the Streets in 1998 and Occupy Vancouver in 2011. In addition, this chapter continues to serve food on a regular—often weekly—basis in Vancouver. While Food Not Bombs has existed in Vancouver for over twenty years, it has not been continuous. This is typical of Food Not Bombs chapters worldwide. Giles (2013, 23) describes the evolution of each chapter of Food Not Bombs in the following way: “Like the cells in one’s body, replacing themselves… a given city’s Food Not Bombs chapter is made anew and yet occupies the same space.” While Food Not Bombs Vancouver has not occupied the exact same space, over the years it has focused its attention strategically within the most economically depressed area of Canada: the infamous Downtown Eastside. Since Food Not Bombs operates strategically in economically depressed areas, Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside has been host to Food Not Bombs—alongside a plethora of charitable organizations such as the First United Church, Carnegie Centre, and Women’s Shelter. Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside is known for its Oppenheimer District and said to 71		be the poorest postal code in Canada (Robertson and Culhane 2005, 16). Over the last twenty years, Food Not Bombs Vancouver has served in several parts of East Vancouver. They have been particularly active around the intersection of Commercial Drive and Broadway, the site of a major transit station on “the Drive.” Commercial Drive is famous in Vancouver for its countercultural scene. However, during my research, Food Not Bombs purposely served in the center of the Downtown Eastside: the intersection of Main and Hastings. In Vancouver, I have heard Main and Hastings provocatively referred to as “Main and wastings.” This is likely due to the prevalence of drug use in this area—every time we served here I did witness various kinds of use on the sidewalk or in the alley. In addition, a safe injection site shares the sidewalk on which Food Not Bombs Vancouver set their table and where we almost always witnessed an ambulance or police visit. While there is a high concentration of housing insecure people, some of whom are self-medicating, there are also low-income families. Notably, the Downtown Eastside includes Chinatown, a tourist attraction but also a historically disadvantaged neighborhood. In our food distributions, we encountered not only individuals in need of food but also people who took raw produce and bread home to share with their families and neighbors. Part of the strategy of food distribution in public is to serve people who may go unnoticed—or forced to ‘pay’ for food by listening to a religious message—or are considered undeserving (e.g. ‘addicts’) For these people, a right to food does not include the right to food sovereignty. The City of Vancouver currently has two plans that are relevant insofar as they seem to align with Food Not Bombs’ messages: Zero Waste and the Right to Food. The City of Vancouver, in consultation with the Vancouver Food Policy Council, began their Zero Waste initiative in 2008 (“Zero Waste.” City of Vancouver. Accessed May 15, 2016. 72		http://vancouver.ca/green-vancouver/zero-waste.aspx). Since that time, they have worked to reduce the amount of organics and recyclables that go into the garbage. One of their approaches is to redefine “trash.”  Figure 4 “How you can support the ban on food in the garbage,” 2015. Image by the City of Vancouver. (http://vancouver.ca/home-property-development/food-isnt-garbage-2015-organics-ban.aspx Accessed October 29, 2015)   Figure 5 “food isn’t garbage” sign at Canada Line station, January 6, 2015. Photo by author.  This message, however, does not attempt to curb the wasting of food. Instead, it asks people to put that food into a different receptacle. Edible food is still wasted and the recovery of that edible—but wasted—food from dumpsters is criminalized. Similarly, the “right to food” is an initiative that does not grant all people meaningful food sovereignty or even 73		access to food. For the city of Vancouver and its food policy council, the “right to food” includes the potential to access culturally-appropriate and healthy food by either 1) growing food within the City of Vancouver, or 2) purchasing food in one’s neighborhood. In order to promote this right, the city has supported community gardens, food vendors, and neighborhood projects such as community kitchens throughout Vancouver (Vancouver Food Policy Council 2013). One of the City of Vancouver’s examples of realizing right to food is the city’s support of the Choi project. Through pamphlet distribution in Chinese markets, the Choi project educates people on what greens are locally grown and pesticide free (“Local Food.” City of Vancouver. Accessed May 15, 2016. http://vancouver.ca/green-vancouver/local-food.aspx#food-progress). However, initiatives like this do not address the systems that perpetuate hunger such as poverty and inequality (Riches 1997, 54).23 While “zero waste” and the “right to food” sound like Food Not Bombs slogans, the City of Vancouver envisions and tries to achieve these goals very differently. As such, the City of Vancouver provides a unique counterpoint as a formal, municipal body against Food Not Bombs anarchic style. 2.4.2 Methods In order to elicit ethnographic data on the beliefs and everyday practices of Food Not Bombs in Vancouver, I drew on qualitative techniques such as participant observation and interviewing. I recorded field data through field notes and photographs. To complement this qualitative study, I also took quantitative data on caloric value recovered and redistributed. After these field data were collected and supplemented with relevant news articles and social media postings, I coded them using qualitative data analysis software, NVivo. 																																																								23 There are, however, attempts by groups such as the BCCLA who are focusing on these systemic issues through strategies such as arguing for “the right to food” to be a legally enforceable right (see Track 2016). This is discussed in more detail in section 4.3. 74		In this study, participant observation primarily included attendance and participation in weekly protests and mass actions as well as food acquisition, preparation, and distribution. On a weekly basis, I helped facilitate food acquisition; this often involved picking up produce at an organic wholesale distributor and bread at a specialty bakery. Next, I helped prepare food in the kitchens of Food Not Bombs volunteers. Finally, I distributed food with volunteers in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret near the intersection of Main and Hastings in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. In terms of mass actions, I helped procure, prepare, and distribute food at various locations. For example, we received individual donations to cook and serve at Burnaby Mountain during this protest. We cooked on stoves setup on the snowy mountain to protesters who were advocating for environmental protection and indigenous rights in the face of resource extraction industries. During weekly activities and mass actions, I took photographs of food that volunteers used and food they discarded. I also took photographs of the people and processes involved. Finally, I recorded activities and conversations with detailed field notes. In order to elicit insider perspectives, individual experiences, and activist logics, I conducted semi-structured interviews and distributed questionnaires. These interviews and questionnaires focused on political biographies wherein participants were asked why and how they came to be involved with Food Not Bombs and what their experience has been like. I focused specifically on core volunteers: a trend reflected in other autonomous projects, Katsiaficas (2006, 192) identifies concentric circles moving from an inner, activist core to active then passive sympathizers. As the primary unit of analysis is Food Not Bombs Vancouver, degree of participation was assessed through the following: attendance, material contributions (e.g. food, cookware), and work (e.g. what do they do in terms of food 75		recovery, preparation, distribution). However, some core volunteers were unavailable or unwilling to participate in formal interviews or questionnaires. I was able to elicit a semi-structured interview with the primary organizer (Jacquie) and a questionnaire from an additional core volunteer (Shayna) from September 2014 to August 2015. In addition, I elicited a questionnaire from the primary organizer (Gerrard) previous to September 2014. These more formal questions supplemented the impromptu questions I raised throughout the year during various activities but notably during food preparation and distribution times. Having conducted research with Food Not Bombs previously, I was aware that volunteers might be wary of more formal interviews and questionnaires. Therefore, I asked questions during food preparation and distribution events that were similar to those given at the interview and on the questionnaire. These questions also prompted discussion among volunteers and therefore led to robust conversations. When asked during food preparation and distribution, the topics I raised were natural to engage in. For example, one of the questions I asked was how the volunteer came to be a part of Food Not Bombs. This is a question that other volunteers ask and, many times, I did not even need to raise. While I do not have all of the responses voice recorded, I do have detailed field notes that describe political biographies of core, semi-periphery, and periphery volunteers. I used the first names of volunteers who said that was their preference. It just happened that the Food Not Bombs volunteers that were formally interviewed or given questionnaires asked that I use their first names. For those Food Not Bombs volunteers who told me they would like to use a pseudonym, I used a pseudonym. These requests are reflected in this dissertation. 2.4.3 Engaged Anthropology “You will never learn about us,” he told me, “if you only go into people’s compounds, ask personal questions, and write down the answers…” 76		“Then what am I to do?” “You must learn to sit with people,” he told me. “You must learn to sit and listen.” (Stoller 1989, 128)  In his fieldwork among the Songhay, Paul Stoller (1989) learned the value of ethnography is in its long-term committed form. Becoming involved in people’s daily life over a long period of time, he gained the trust of his consultants who, in the beginning, lied regularly to him. Ethnography provides an opportunity to navigate objective and subjective paradigms. Stoller (1989, 4) notes the folly of anthropologists who expect a clear delineation between concepts such as “field” and “home,” “feeling” and “action.” These distinctions are arbitrary, causing methodological and epistemological problems for researchers who try to assert those boundaries. Engaged anthropology goes one step further, proposing that anthropologists should take a stand against injustice as they encounter it (Scheper-Hughes 1995). My research affirms the impossibility of maintaining pure objectivity while, at the same time, incorporates anthropological perspectives such as cultural relativity and research methods such as taking field notes for rigorous analysis. Furthermore, this research is engaged insofar as I have been a participant with Food Not Bombs both in and out of ‘the field.’ Therefore, I negotiate insider and outsider statuses within and without the field. Following other engaged anthropologists (Johnston and Barker 2008; Low and Merry 2010; Nash 2007; Scheper-Hughes 1995), I argue that engaged, activist anthropology can have methodological and ethical advantages.  Working with the Movement for Global Resistance, Juris (2007) found that an engagement in “militant ethnography,” the researcher is part of the activist project, was necessary to understand radical politics. “This tendency to position oneself at a distance and treat social life as an object to decode, rather than entering into the flow and rhythm of 77		ongoing social interaction, hinders our ability to understand social practice” (Juris 2007, 165; see also Juris and Khasnabish 2013). Instead, entering into activist milieus as a militant ethnographer involves long-term relationships, mutual trust, and the embodied experiences of participation in mass actions (e.g. terror, solidarity). Phenomenologically, Juris (2008) and Fernandez (2009) note that activist anthropology enables the researcher to experience the bodies of the multitude or feelings such as solidarity or exhilaration within protest situations. Insider access as well as respectful and reciprocal involvement provide the opportunity for these phenomenological insights. With Food Not Bombs, notable phenomenological data gathered include working with almost discarded food, navigating consensus, serving food in ‘sketchy’ areas, and parading our banner in front of RCMP officers. Ethically, my researching relationship with Food Not Bombs has been and will continue to be as reciprocal as possible. At the same time, this research is not entirely community-driven. Part of my ability and privilege of accessing Food Not Bombs was that I enter this milieu respectfully, having had many conversations and negotiating research topics with volunteers themselves. I also worked alongside other volunteers, lugging those 40 to 50lb bags of potatoes up four flights of stairs, standing in the rain, and helping people when they asked for it. Developing this research study, I listened to Food Not Bombs volunteers over the years and asked current volunteers in Vancouver what they would find beneficial.  At the same time, I was solely responsible for creating and executing the research project. While I listened to Food Not Bombs volunteers for their interests and concerns, asked their permission to take photographs and use direct quotes—not just during the initial consent process but every time I took a photograph or wrote down a direct quote, discussed my presentation and publication ideas with them, and documented things that other 78		volunteers found valuable—like how much food we recovered, ultimately I made the decisions about what to write and in what manner. As such, while this research is engaged, it is not community-driven or entirely collaborative (see Menzies 2004 on community-driven collaborative research). If this research were to be community-driven, Food Not Bombs volunteers would have initiated the research and would have come to consensus about each stage of the process. Instead of this fully community-driven methodology, I conducted a kind of participatory research, moving toward collaboration by combining my interested with those of the volunteers, renewed consent on a regular basis for the project itself—by checking in and reminding them of what I was doing—and for every photograph I took, offered to share my drafts, and discussed upcoming presentations with them. While initial consent was received from everyone even mentioned in this dissertation, these on-going discussions and negotiations occurred particularly the core volunteers. Overall, I combined my research interests and theoretical orientation with Food Not Bombs interests, focusing on documenting the amount of food recovered, food served, and contestations over public space in order to make visible how both food and people come to be wasted as well as the criminalization of services that aid people who are hungry. Overall, we hope the societal benefits will include a growing awareness and knowledge of non-violent activism working through food recovery and redistribution to bring about change.  While engaged anthropology is beneficial epistemologically—insofar as biases are acknowledged, ethically—insofar as research participants become more like collaborators than objects, and methodologically—insofar as it provides the opportunity for access to unique data, it also has the potential to undermine scientific inquiry (D’Andrade 1995) and even recreate power differentials based on a discourse of ‘empowerment’ (Fessenden 2015). 79		While insider-activist anthropology has these potential drawbacks, those are mitigated—at least in part—with analytical techniques. For example, in this project I used the following methods to balance objectivity and subjectivity: theoretically informed research objectives, non-random sampling, long-term participant observation, interviewing, field notes, and thematic coding.  While valuable to elicit larger data collections particularly for quantitative analysis, della Porta (2007, 24) acknowledges, “In general, surveys—with their mainly closed questions—are indeed poor instruments for capturing the complex value system of activists…” She also notes they are not as reliable because respondents will provide responses that will please the interviewer. Furthermore, they do not capture the complexities of thoughts, emotions, or behaviors because respondents tend to provide standardized responses. My own research has the opposite limitation: my methods do not allow me to stand ‘outside’ of the research or draw broader conclusions beyond the chapter with which I have been involved. What insider, engaged, activist ethnography does allow me to do is to move through the complexities of building a project (i.e. Food Not Bombs), keeping it in motion, and finding points of connection in order to work in solidarity with other groups. This perspective may be limited but it is rich in detail, avoids simplification that—although useful for certain objectives—obscures the complexity on the ground, and enables the ethnographic researcher to interrogate otherwise taken-for-granted assumptions. In this particular research project, ethnography forces me to first realize the ‘differences between what people say and what they do’ and answer the question of what do they actually do. In the case of Food Not Bombs, there are a number of oft-repeated descriptions, principles, and slogans that find there way into the research of all of us working with them. The difference is 80		that we see how those principles are localized and differentially or unevenly realized. Picking up those potatoes, standing in the rain, and listening to Blondie while cooking up food (not bombs) enable me to capture, as I participate in, the “complex value system[s] of activists” (della Porta 2007, 24).                    81		CHAPTER 3 ETHNOGRAPHIES OF “PUNK ROCK DIY BELLY FEEDING”: FOOD AS ANARCHISTIC PROTEST  Every Friday volunteers with Food Not Bombs Vancouver would pick up unwanted produce from a local organic produce distributor and get started on meal planning. Having a car, I would often be the one to head over to the east side to get the produce while Jacquie and Jane would get the kitchen ready, imagining recipes and gathering spices and even maybe some additional trimmings found in an obliging dumpster. The next day was the main event: processing and cooking a couple hundred pounds of discarded produce and bread. We would start with hoisting the produce into the apartment—often realizing too late that the bananas could really have stayed downstairs because we never were going to make that banana bread, then get on with the chopping, boiling, and baking. While cooking, conversations among the largely punk crowd would turn to planning upcoming events—such as a solidarity serving at the Oppenheimer Park occupation which was held to protest lack of housing, deciding which music to listen to—Blondie was a favorite, and what the hell we were going to do with dandelion leaves—they ended up boiled then in a wok with green onions, a ton of vegetable oil, and somehow quinoa and tahini made its way in as well. After managing to collaboratively decide among a group of rather spirited participants what to cook, how to cook it, and when and where to serve, we made our way out of the kitchen and to the Downtown Eastside’s infamous corner: Main and Hastings.  This intersection hosts a number of shelters, aid organizations, churches, and even a safe injection site. We set up our table in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, an old punk rock venue turned skate park. On sidewalks where extreme poverty is visible—supermarket carts that are filled to overflowing, ragged clothing, and people lying on the concrete under 82		blue plastic tarps—we brought out our iconic silver pots, ladles, and signs. The moment we arrived a line began to form. Luckily we had those bananas to hand out while people waited for us to set up the table. Throughout the next hour or two, around a hundred people came by and took a plate of cooked food, a bag of fresh produce—since we did not always manage to cook it all, or just a slice of artisan bread. The people that came to the table were not all stereotypically homeless. Some may have worn blackened, ragged clothing but many more looked like—and sometimes looked better than—those serving with Food Not Bombs. Men and women, younger and older adults, people in different circumstances but sharing a need for food received the warm soups, roasted potatoes, salads, and fresh fruit that Food Not Bombs shared. Most of the time people voicelessly accepted the food, some commented on how it is good to have something other than soup and bologna sandwiches, and others lectured us on the value of animal-based protein. When the food was gone, we headed back and put the sink and bathtub to use, scouring the pots, pans, and cutting boards used over the last two days. In weekly direct action tactics surrounding food acquisition, preparation, and distribution, Food Not Bombs Vancouver protests with food about oppressive and alienating food systems. In economically depressed areas like Vancouver’s infamous Downtown Eastside, Food Not Bombs sets up a table and invites people to come and eat (purportedly) tasty vegetarian and vegan meals. While there are a number of charitable organizations that serve food in the Downtown Eastside, Food Not Bombs claims to do more than alleviate people’s immediate suffering; Food Not Bombs claims to critique the system that refuse to address and even perpetuate hunger. Food Not Bombs is critical of the skewed corporate, government, and social structures that allow hunger to persist in the midst of abundance. We find the gross 83		amount of food deemed to be “garbage” appalling. We use this “waste” to cook delicious and healthy meals. We reclaim what society throw out and make it useful, valuable, and into a pragmatic form of protest. (2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  As a direct action project, this critique is actively practiced and not just passively stated. Food Not Bombs critiques the—in this case, Canadian—government’s distribution of resources to fund war rather than help relieve hunger. Food Not Bombs also critiques neoliberal policies that perpetuate poverty. The Food Not Bombs slogan, “food is a right, not a privilege,” captures this call for basic necessities. The Food Not Bombs slogan, “solidarity, not charity,” captures the promotion of critical and subversive practices that undermine, rather than perpetuate, poverty and hunger. In their weekly food distributions in public spaces, Food Not Bombs recovers wasted food to help those discarded by capitalism.  While Food Not Bombs is a worldwide project, each chapter localizes Food Not Bombs principles and practices in different ways. This localization is dependent on—but not limited to—factors such as its (sub)cultural context, access to recyclable food, number of committed volunteers, cooking space, and to whom and where they choose to serve. In the first chapter, I introduced values, principles, and practices of Food Not Bombs. First, Food Not Bombs serves food to protest state’s allocation of resources to fund war; they assert that people need food, not bombs. Second, Food Not Bombs incorporates three core principles including autonomy, non-hierarchical egalitarianism, and non-violence. In this chapter, I draw on Food Not Bombs volunteer’s own reflections about Food Not Bombs. These reflections highlight DIY ethics, “no rules” (i.e. the three core principles), anarchist (dis)organization, vegetarianism, and solidarity and empowerment that inspire Food Not Bombs practice. I then describe how Food Not Bombs Vancouver localizes Food Not Bombs through their weekly direct action practices with food through food acquisition, preparation, 84		and distribution. I will highlight and compare those alienating and oppressive systems that Food Not Bombs and Food Not Bombs Vancouver purportedly and strategically address through direct actions. Specifically, I look at the acquisition of food that would otherwise have gone to waste and the distribution of that food in putatively public spaces. Throughout this chapter I compare the overall principles of Food Not Bombs to its localization in Vancouver and compare Vancouver Food Not Bombs to how other chapters are localized. I find both striking similarities in principles and practices—and also notable differences—so that any description of Food Not Bombs tends to be a prototypical image. Overall, the description that follows will ethnographically introduce readers to the worlds of non-violent anarchist-inspired practice and to the logic of critical and constructive direct action practices by Food Not Bombs activists in Vancouver.  3.1 Food Not Bombs Protest Logics 3.1.1 Do-It-Yourself (but also as a collective) We have a kitchen and will be collecting food donations so bring yo mama and yo bff and lets get some punk rock DIY belly feeding. The more the merrier! (Jacquie. August 20, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook Page)  Over twenty years ago, Food Not Bombs Vancouver started in a “punk space” and was “punk” (Noelle, personal communication, November 1, 2014). The punk quality of Food Not Bombs Vancouver that Noelle commented on is not unusual for Food Not Bombs chapters. In Barcelona, I found Food Not Bombs was localized within an international squatter community that was explicitly “anarcho-punk.” In Seattle, Clark (2004, 28) described Food Not Bombs as a kind of “punk activism.” Others, such as Giles (2013), Holtzman, Hughes, and Van Meter (2007), and Shannon (2011) have noted the location of 85		Food Not Bombs in punk scenes or inspired by do-it-yourself (DIY) logics.24  Food Not Bombs incorporates this notable punk ethic: DIY. When asked what appealed to you about Food Not Bombs, one of the organizers answered, laughing, “‘Cause it had no rules… It seemed a little bit more punk rock and that’s what I liked about it. It was kind of like the cool kids badass kitchen.” (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015). ‘Doing it yourself’ means taking responsibility to change the world rather than waiting for someone else to do it. It is associated with punk music and its related squat-based performances, clothing—I’m picturing patchwork jackets and silk screened T-shirts, and lifestyle—like the development of Free Skools.  Furthermore, DIY opens up the possibility of not having to rely on any system (e.g. capitalism) or institution (e.g. patriarchy) that one deems distasteful. Shannon (2011, 14) links DIY “cultural production” with Food Not Bombs activists whose intention is to “create new communities outside of the purview of the state and capitalist social relations.” Food Not Bombs co-founder Keith McHenry (2012, 11-12) says that building community is a goal of Food Not Bombs so the new social order will be ready “after the riots.” Food Not Bombs Vancouver organizers Jane and Jacquie echo a DIY ethic in a heated discussion with a community activist not associated with Food Not Bombs who argued that Food Not Bombs needed “business sense”:  Martha: “for Food Not Bombs to every grow, without the burn out it has experienced over and over and over again, eventually, it will require a structure… and that structure requires a business sense.” Jane: “The point of FNB is collaboration. We learn from each other… we don't need to be taught what to do, we are doing it. through a community we are creating together… FUCK BUSINESS SENSE SO HARD that's like the fucking point of 																																																								24 While I have found this to be more or less true of the Food Not Bombs chapters with whom I have worked, it is more accurate to say that Food Not Bombs articulates with punk and other radical or countercultural milieus rather than defining it as punk or anarchist. Specifically in Vancouver, Food Not Bombs articulates with punk, anarchist, environmentalist, vegan, and anti-corporate networks.  86		what WE are doing.”  Jacquie: “My vision, personally, is to make this grow and I actually think I am a pretty savvy little creative genius at times and my efforts are something I feel good about. Keith, co founder straight up says this ain't no soup kitchen, it’s about creating community, which we are doing. The people who thank us as for what we're doing is really payment enough... I can barely pay rent sometimes but I'll still find the time to cook up a cabbage stew for the folks who don't have a place at the table.” (October 25, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  While Martha suggests that Food Not Bombs requires “structure” and “business sense”— including payment to volunteers, Jane and Jacquie both draw attention to the DIY quality of the Food Not Bombs project: Food Not Bombs is interested in creating a different kind of community based on principles that do not rely on ‘mainstream’ values or forms of social organization. Instead, Food Not Bombs is based on non-hierarchical social organization and non-(anti-)capitalist economics in order to create an egalitarian community within and against contemporary capitalist society.  A DIY ethic overlaps with direct action insofar as DIY projects can both subvert and create. For example, a common DIY project is self-publishing zines—literature, often pamphlets, that promote upcoming shows or radical (e.g. anarcho-punk or anarcha-feminist) ideals. Instead of going through a marketing or publishing company, musicians and activists publish these works themselves. At the Free Skool, Food Not Bombs created a zine called “Food Not Bombs Around the World 2010-2013”; it includes photos and brief descriptions of Food Not Bombs chapters from the United States to Russia to Southeast Asia (Food Not Bombs Stories and News from Around the World. 2013. Accessed November 3, 2015. http://foodnotbombs.net/fnbaroundtheworld.pdf). Food Not Bombs can be considered a kind of global DIY project insofar as volunteers translate its values and logics into local action. While each chapter is different, all embrace three principles. As with any chapter of Food Not Bombs, Food Not Bombs Vancouver understands and puts these principles into action 87		within the specific context of Vancouver, B.C. 3.1.2 Applying Food Not Bombs core values (or, the 3 “no rules”) Sarah: How do you describe Food Not Bombs when someone asks you what it is? Jacquie: Like a disorganized group of little feeders…. there’s different chapters all over the world that all fall under the blanket of lawlessness: the three ‘no rules’ where there’s no leadership, or no leaders, there’s no hierarchy—I guess is better to say, there’s no agenda of political or religion, and the only real goal is its vegan/vegetarian. It’s really just about feeding people. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015)   Jacquie describes Food Not Bombs as centered around three “no-rules.” The “no-rules” she lists parallel the principles adopted at the 1992 international conference with slightly different emphases. Jacquie first highlights the social (dis)organization of Food Not Bombs as non-hierarchical, based on autonomy, consensus, and egalitarianism. She then describes the project as apolitical and non-religious. Finally, she states the goal is cruelty-free to animals. Overall, she suggests that the immediate goal of Food Not Bombs is to offer food to people. During my research, I have found that Food Not Bombs is characterized by non-hierarchical, namely anarchist, social (dis)organization. While this activist project certainly has an agenda (i.e. food, not bombs), when volunteers compare Food Not Bombs to religious groups that serve food, it is often conceived of as having “no agenda.” In fact, Food Not Bombs declares of itself that it does “solidarity, not charity” (Food Not Bombs slogan). The anarchist inclinations of Food Not Bombs distinguish it in part from other charitable groups. One aspect of “solidarity” is Food Not Bombs’ commitment to vegetarianism: many people have dietary restrictions and, therefore, vegetarianism allows more people to come to the table. Additionally, this commitment to vegetarianism is part of a larger overall commitment to non-violence. In the following sections I will describe these three values (i.e. non-hierarchical, anarchist (dis)organization; solidarity, not charity; non-violence, vegetarianism, 88		and veganism), reflecting on how they are understood by Food Not Bombs Vancouver. I liked the disorganization [of Food Not Bombs]. That appealed to me because anything a little too structured freaked me out. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015)  Food Not Bombs Vancouver was resuscitated in July 2014 after a few months with a hiatus. Jacquie and Jane were drawn to the goals and structure of Food Not Bombs. They had already been involved in various activist projects such as Occupy Vancouver with social networks that extended into punk and anarchist circles. (Anti-)Structurally, Food Not Bombs is committed to anarchist-inspired principles of autonomy, consensus, and egalitarianism. Food Not Bombs Vancouver reflects these values in practice. First, Food Not Bombs Vancouver is an autonomous chapter. They agree with the project of Food Not Bombs as non-violent direct action and localize its message and principles in Vancouver. Second, there are no leaders but only organizers. Egalitarianism is promoted by consensus process and the ability for individuals to take on roles, rather than those roles being given to them. In order to illustrate these tactics, I review both the re-emergence of Food Not Bombs Vancouver and its evolution throughout the year. Food Not Bombs Vancouver re-emerged in July 2014 as an autonomous, non-hierarchical project. Jacquie and Jane had heard about Food Not Bombs and attempted to join. When they contacted Food Not Bombs Vancouver through Facebook, they were informed that there was no active chapter at that moment. Since Food Not Bombs does not belong to anyone in particular insofar as no one needs any permission to begin a chapter, they decided to take on the task of remaking Food Not Bombs in Vancouver. From previous volunteers, they received donation suggestions, contact information, and supplies that had been accumulated over the years. Because I had participated with Food Not Bombs 89		Vancouver the previous year, I immediately recognized foodstuffs like the enormous plastic bags of donated bread, food-prep materials such as the huge silver pot, and food distribution materials like the large brown plastic tub with its contents of tiny gray-brown ceramic bowls with turquoise designs painted on the sides. When I joined in September 2014, Food Not Bombs Vancouver had also added to their repertoire new signs, an orange cart, and a cat mascot—though it was later decided that his need for meat-based foods made him a poor mascot.  Figure 6 Jacobin inspecting the produce, September 19, 2014. Photo by author.  Each Food Not Bombs chapter is autonomous, joined only by the three core principles. Within Food Not Bombs, autonomy is discussed with reference to the lack of organizational hierarchy. For example, Food Not Bombs is not an organization but rather a project that each chapter localizes in their neighborhood. I use autonomy in an additional sense: it can also refer back to the DIY project of Food Not Bombs: volunteers join, donations are made, and people are served food. This is all done without formal organization or hierarchy. This project begins with an open invitation for people to join. And people do join. They donate their time, energy, food, or supplies. Without screening volunteers or 90		asking for applications, Food Not Bombs chapters emerge and flourish. So this autonomy begins with individuals taking initiative, picking up the banner of Food Not Bombs, and inviting others to join. Once the chapter begins in this way, the first step in this non-hierarchical social organizing is consensus process. Within Food Not Bombs Vancouver, consensus process was rarely acted out in full: there was rarely a formal statement of a proposal, invitation for concerns, suggestions for amendments, and final call for consensus. Instead, consensus operated more informally among the volunteers who happened to appear to, for example, cook. In this situation, consensus process turned into a lifestyle habit of vocalizing one’s preferences, listening to others, and taking on roles that one wished to take on as well those that no one ever wanted (e.g. cutting onions). When the produce and the first volunteers arrived at the kitchen, everyone would look through the produce and suggest ideas about what to cook, how to cook, what produce to leave raw, and offer ideas about aspects of cooking such as seasoning. Roles were not fixed but fluid and changing. For example, volunteers would trade off between loading the food into a makeshift “pulley” and hoisting the food into the apartment. Here, consensus became collaboration and roles were sympathetically negotiated without resort to hierarchical structure or demands. This emphasis on egalitarianism, in terms of all social hierarchies, extends to the Food Not Bombs table as well where “solidarity, not charity” is intended to demolish the power differential between those-who-serve and those-served. In Food Not Bombs, there is no hierarchy and no difference between server and served. This encourages inclusivity and knowledge/skills sharing. In Food Not Bombs, everyone is a particip-eater! (2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)   91		Standing in the icy mud at a blockade protest, complete in punk attire—spikes, shaved spots of hair, heavy boots, and the occasional leopard print comfy pants, it is likely already apparent that Food Not Bombs does not look quite like a food bank or the Salvation Army. Food Not Bombs participants strategically develop their project as one of “solidarity not charity.” There are two aspects to “solidarity” as envisioned by Food Not Bombs: 1) DIY and empowerment: everyone is welcome in the kitchen, 2) sharing: everyone is welcome to eat. These two aspects are perceived by Food Not Bombs participants as counter to logics of charity: “Food Not Bombs is NOT a charity, NOT a religious organization, and does NOT make a profit. We are just doin it ourselves, and hope you want to do it yourself too!!” (Jane. October 14, 2014. Craigslist ad). Solidarity is acted out through a DIY ethic and is concomitant with empowerment. Solidarity is about inviting anyone and everyone to recover, prepare, and serve food. In this way, power differentials between those that serve and those that are served are blurred. Furthermore, Food Not Bombs as a global project links this practice of solidarity to empowerment.  It [Food Not Bombs] gives people an opportunity to do something positive and creative and to interact with other folks who share their concerns about hunger and the other impacts of greed. Ideally, those who have the greatest need for free food will participate in getting the food, preparing it, serving it, cleaning up, or some other part of making a serving happen.  It is the most empowering when those who face barriers elsewhere feel able to participate in Food Not Bombs. Even having access to free food without having to jump through any hoops can be empowering. For example, in Edmonton someone came to Food Not Bombs regularly who did not feel comfortable going to the Food Bank. She was in the process of preparing to have gender re-assignment surgery. When she went to the Food Bank, they would not give her food until she registered with them, and they refused to accept her female name for her registration. They insisted that she provide her birth name as her “real” name. She felt very uncomfortable about this, so she left. The only requirement to eat at Food Not Bombs is showing up. (Gerrard, personal communication, November 22, 2015)  92		Anyone is welcome to participate with Food Not Bombs and the invitation to join is also a statement of belief in that individual’s abilities to procure and cook food. Since money does not differentiate volunteers in their ability to participate, potential volunteers are encouraged to bring what they can find either by asking for donations or getting into a dumpster. If a potential volunteer prefers to cook, they are welcome to assist in that instead.  Parson (2010, 23) notes that, as an anarchist project, Food Not Bombs empowers the ‘homeless.’ I have found that Food Not Bombs ethically and empathetically stands in solidarity with those they serve. Ethically, Food Not Bombs participants generally agree that food should be a right and they work to dismantle underlying structures that inhibit people’s access to food. Empathetically, many Food Not Bombs participants have themselves experienced homelessness at some time. Food Not Bombs Barcelona was made up completely of squatters. In Santa Ana, I met a traveller who lived on trains, moving around the country. One of the core volunteers with Food Not Bombs Vancouver lived in the Downtown Eastside and engaged in sex work for a time while another regular participant squatted. While solidarity is linked to empowerment and while Food Not Bombs participants stand in solidarity with those experiencing hunger and housing insecurity both ethically and sympathetically, there are some contradictions when solidarity is sought in practice: It [Food Not Bombs] made me feel good. I feel like its douchey to say but doing things for people makes you feel good; like, you’re doing it to make yourself feel good. But, I don’t know. It was kind of fun stealing from the rich and giving to the poor; that was kind of empowering, I guess. But it wasn’t really stealing; it was taking things that they had already thrown away so it was like picking up their waste for them. And I don’t know how empowering digging around in a dumpster is. And thinking of all those times lugging those 40lb bags of potatoes wasn’t exactly empowering. But, it felt good. And I can see how one can feel empowered by taking matters into their own hands and helping people and doing things like working against a system that isn’t actually there, that doesn’t exist really, to help people. So that’s kind of empowering I guess. There’s a badassness to it, I guess. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015) 93		While anyone is invited to participate, in my experience volunteers tend to have some social or economic capital. In Vancouver, all volunteers had some kind of regular housing though for a few this was occasionally limited to couch surfing or squatting. But even the ability to couch surf or squat indicated the presence of strong social networks to do so. For the most part, volunteers lived in apartments on the eastside of Vancouver city—a lower income district—but needed roommates to make the rent each month. What this meant in practice was those that cooked and served were often differentiated from those they served. In front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret with a condensed population of housing insecure people, even the low income, struggling students and low paid workers that made up Food Not Bombs Vancouver still had more capital than those they served. Therefore, the idea of helping people became more salient than solidarity. At the same time, Food Not Bombs advocates more equitable systems, using direct action to undermine inequalities—unlike charities that do not change underlying systems. Food Not Bombs works to dismantle hierarchies including vertical organization. Charity is seen as vertical, a movement of goods and services from those with power and prestige to those without. Instead of identifying with others by acknowledging the multiple forms of domination that are pervasive and persistent throughout society, charity is seen to support existing hierarchies. Food Not Bombs sees in solidarity the potential to undermine hierarchies through (self-)empowerment and community-building within the kitchen. Organizational principles such as the autonomy of each chapter and decision-making by consensus promote such solidarity within the kitchen. Notably, consensus process ensures non-hierarchical relationships within the group and creates empowering situations. Each participant is not only welcomed to voice their opinions but has the responsibility to do so. In 94		this way, each participant becomes a committed stakeholder. On the streets, solidarity means sharing without reference to how people look, smell, or of what religion they may or may not be a part. This is in contrast to how charities are perceived by Food Not Bombs participants who have watched people be forced to listen to a sermon before being able to receive food. Here, ‘charity’ elicits the idea and reproduction of power differentials: those who have food force those who need food to participate in or avoid certain activities. ‘Solidarity’ is realized at the table by the distribution of vegetarian meals to anyone who chooses to participate. Non-violence is meant both literally and figuratively: non-violence as the opposite of physical and structural violence. Worldwide, Food Not Bombs is committed to non-violence.25  Therefore, their direct action tactics are also non-violent. The primary direct action strategy of Food Not Bombs—sharing free food in public—falls under the category of creative, constructive, or productive direct action (Parson 2010; Day 2005). In addition to food distribution, their other direct action tactics are also productive. For example, recovering wasted food, non-hierarchical organizing, inviting anyone to come cook and eat, and serving food in public without a permit ultimately build a new society ‘within the shell of the old.’ In this case, these practices are juxtaposed against capitalist and hierarchical models that include purchasing food, screening volunteers or those receiving food, and meeting all governmental requirements for food distribution such as having a tax ID and filing appropriate permits. In Philadelphia, Food Not Bombs helped with an Urban Fair, a community event held on a contested piece of land. In Vancouver, Food Not Bombs regularly served at a Really Really Free Market, a market set up in a public park where goods were given away for free. Food Not Bombs is not only non-violent in its tactics; it is non-																																																								25 While Food Not Bombs is committed to non-violence, volunteers have various opinions on this topic and sometimes engage in conversation about the appropriateness of different kinds of displays of resistance in certain moments. 95		violent in every aspect of its protest including the food itself. Food Not Bombs serves vegetarian food as part of its commitment to non-violence. Meat is considered violent because an animal died for it to be consumed. Vegetarian food is considered non-violent because it avoids animal meat. Vegan food goes further, avoiding all animal byproducts such as milk or eggs. In Vancouver, the three core volunteers considered themselves vegan and kept the Food Not Bombs table largely free of animal products. The idea of nonviolence in food can be extended further: while the food itself is literally non-violent in the sense that nothing was killed, it is also structurally non-violent.  Food recovered, prepared, and served by Food Not Bombs avoids contamination by the capitalist marketplace. Rather than reproducing capitalist exploitation, alienation, or commodification, the donated food is received, collectively and collaboratively prepared, and freely shared with anyone in want or need of it. Recycling un-commodified food in an anarchistic kitchen and serving it in public space avoids capitalist imperatives—such as the imperative to buy—and re-purposes that food for use in an anarchistic protest. 3.2 Food Not Bombs anarchistic foodways Sarah: How do you describe FNB when someone asks you what it is? What is the core message to you?  Shayna: I say it's a loosely organized group of people who—at least in my Vancouver experience—are really committed to this project they've taken on. They are compassionate people who see how they can affect world issues and then they do something about it. They do things that are a socially out of the norm, like jumping in garbage bins, asking businesses for food, and serving and hanging out with people who are homeless, struggling, or just hungry because it's more important than looking good. (Shayna, personal communication, September 15, 2015)  In the previous section, I discussed the principles and practices common to Food Not Bombs chapters worldwide as perceived by Food Not Bombs volunteers on the ground. In the above quote, Shayna captures the activist goal of Food Not Bombs as well as its 96		countercultural style. While Food Not Bombs chapters share remarkable similarities given their autonomy and vastly different contexts and memberships, they are also localized according to food, volunteers, and where they choose to serve. Therefore, Food Not Bombs principles are tempered by what food is available to recycle, what abilities and preferences their volunteers have, how many and how often volunteers commit their time, what is the availability of and size of kitchen space, the demographics and needs of whom they choose to serve, and the place where they choose to serve. For Food Not Bombs Vancouver, it was more important to serve food to people in need rather than make a political statement. Prioritizing the distribution of food meant limiting more radical activism by using environmentally degrading substances such as fossil fuels (i.e. when driving a car) and compromising veganism (i.e. when serving donated pastries almost certainly made with milk or eggs). At the same time, they did strategize specifically to make political statements. In those moments, they purposely drew on overt direct action tactics such as dumpster diving and serving food in public space. In this section, I will detail Food Not Bombs Vancouver’s unique practices during food acquisition, preparation, and distribution events, drawing attention to the localization of Food Not Bombs principles and practices and how the Vancouver chapter protest with and about food.   3.2.1 Acquisition: Recycling wasted food As a global direct action project, one of the goals of Food Not Bombs is to serve food that would otherwise have gone to waste. The (direct action) logic of this goal is twofold: 1) by recovering food that would have otherwise gone to waste, Food Not Bombs resists a capitalist imperative to buy; 2) by serving food that would otherwise have gone to waste, Food Not Bombs draws attention to the wastefulness of capitalist markets. While Food Not 97		Bombs is often associated with dumpster diving as a means of food recovery, another objective is to recover food through donations. In my participation and research, Food Not Bombs has a reputation of being associated with dumpster diving. Therefore, when a visitor from the Melbourne chapter came into Vancouver, she asked, “where are the best dumpsters?” (Roxie, personal communication, November 23, 2014). However, each chapter varies in its reliance of dumpster diving. In Barcelona and Santa Ana, volunteers found food almost exclusively through dumpster diving. While most Food Not Bombs volunteers in Vancouver dumpster dive for their individual subsistence, they acquire the bulk of the food (i.e. produce and bread) for Food Not Bombs through donations and then supplement by making small purchases of staples (e.g. cooking oil and spices).  Food Not Bombs rescues food with the potential to be waste. The act of rescuing begins with the acquisition of food through dumpster diving or donations then culminates with the sharing of that food in public. Even staples are ideally purchased with as little involvement in capitalist markets as possible: chapters raise money through benefit concerts or donations. In Vancouver, food acquisition primarily entailed finding food donors and picking up food from those donors. Volunteers evaluate donors for their willingness to donate and their potential ideological conflicts (although this was interestingly not much of a problem—we preferred the locality of Matchstick coffee but Starbucks was acceptable as well. What was important was it was free and would have otherwise been wasted). Volunteers then evaluate food for its edibility, assessing whether it is “fit for the table” (Douglas 1972). They apply their principle of non-violence to food. This filter means that vegan or vegetarian foods are fit for the table while meat is not. Practically, they apply their ideas about rottenness to food. This practical filter means that foods with an acceptable 98		amount of mold or slime are fit for the table while foods with too much decay are not. In this section I will describe Food Not Bombs Vancouver’s food acquisition through donations, their involvement with dumpster diving, and how they supplement donations through small purchases. In addition, I will highlight how they interpret and apply their value of non-violence and their goal of addressing hunger while exploiting existing non- and even anti-capitalist spaces.   While Food Not Bombs Vancouver solicited donations from various sources, they primarily received donations on a regular, often weekly, basis from a local organic produce distributor, known pseudonymously as Organic Produce, and Terra Breads, a local bread market. These two sources were established by previous iterations of Food Not Bombs Vancouver and, in fact, are currently one of the only ties between the past Food Not Bombs Vancouver chapters: over the last few years, Food Not Bombs Vancouver has changed kitchens, volunteers, and serving spaces but passed on their ‘stuff’ (e.g. cookware and banners), email address, Facebook pages, and donor connections. When volunteers were in need of additional resources, they advertised via Craigslist, Facebook, and at various storefronts.   When Jacquie and Jane decided to take on the project of Food Not Bombs Vancouver, the previous organizer, Gerrard, gave them donor contact information. He suggested they contact Organic Produce to organize a produce pick-up and Terra Breads to organize a bread pick-up. Once established, Jacquie posted on Facebook, “Hi guys. Happy to report we are receiving a massive donation of serving and cooking supplies” (Jacquie. August 20, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page). At this point, Food Not Bombs Vancouver began to seek additional donations of staples such as cooking oil, spices, 99		pasta, and rice. In order to find these products, they used a donation letter that had been passed on to them, posted on Craigslist, and posted on Facebook (Appendix B). When seeking donations from vendors, volunteers to some extent considered the values and practices of the company from which they requested products. However, what they found most important was getting food to serve to people. For example, on one occasion volunteers criticized Whole Foods for their prohibitively high prices and locked dumpsters (field notes October 11, 2014). At the same time, we took the donation letter to a local Whole Foods market in order to ask for dry bulk items. Similarly, when Jacquie went to Starbucks to get coffee, Jane teased/warned her, “don’t get poisoned” (field notes November 28, 2014) though two months earlier Starbucks was mentioned in a Facebook post to elicit staples:  Hey food not bombers! Just throwing this into the ether... A few things/ways you can get involved and help fnb feed as many hungry bellies as we can! We are looking for help w donations of the following: DISH SOAP!  gloves for serving  Coffee mugs/cups Coffee! Someone works at a Starbucks! Napkins/paper towels Garbage bags Aluminum foil/saran wrap COOKING/OLIVE OIL - we're going through so much of these things and can't keep up w the expense We also really need help w non-perishable/dried/canned goods - rice pasta beans etc. Reach any of our volunteers here or email me directly at vancouverfnb@gmail.com Everyone and anyone is welcome to come eat or help in any way as much or as little as they please. (Jacquie. September 21, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  Ultimately, what was most important to volunteers with Food Not Bombs Vancouver was that food was recovered that would have otherwise gone to waste and that that food made its way into people’s “hungry bellies” in the Downtown Eastside. 100		While in general serving food was more important than, for example, exploitative business practices, it was sometimes challenging to negotiate values and practices since there was not always complete agreement between volunteers. This was particularly the case with the idea of non-violence applied to food. For Jane, veganism (i.e. no animal meat or animal by-products such as milk or eggs) was the only way to practice non-violence in food. For Jacquie and Michael, veganism was ideal but vegetarianism (i.e. no animal meat) was acceptable when the food recovered would have otherwise gone to waste and was freely given by donors or found in dumpsters.  One day, Michael teased Jacquie about consuming the donated, non-vegan artisan bread to which she replied, “It’s freegan, man!” (field notes January 11, 2015). The logic was that if vegetarian food were not purchased, then it would not add to the consumer demand for food made with animal by-products. However, this logic only extended so far: animal meat was still off-limits—well, mostly. In each case, a commitment to non-violent food was weighed with the perceived needs of those served. Serving in the Downtown Eastside, people who came to the table regularly spoke to us about—and sometimes reprimanded us for—serving only vegan and vegetarian foods; they would say that the people living here need meat in their diet. One day, Jacquie had a confrontation with a man who said the people here need meat. She interpreted his reproach as coming from frustration with her veganism as a privileged white position. Later that same afternoon, a man offered us burgers: he drove up in a nice looking black Acura, pulled up to the curb, and came up to the table with a bag and a foil/tin pan, asking us if we could or would be willing to hand out burgers. Michael and I looked at each other. I said that we (i.e. Food Not Bombs Vancouver) had talked about serving meat before and we had decided that would be acceptable if the burgers were placed 101		just to the side of the table. Michael told the man that we were vegetarian but, yes, we would let people know that there were burgers available. Jane told the man that the hamburgers would definitely be more popular than what we have (field notes December 14, 2014). While discussed previously that we would be willing to offer donated meat on a separate table, in that moment there was still a hesitation to accept the donation of a product that was obviously the result of violence. While there was some spatial separation of the meat from the Food Not Bombs food, this likely reflected Food Not Bombs values to ourselves rather than to those who we served. While Food Not Bombs Vancouver received generous amounts of produce and bread from Organic Produce and Terra Breads, they also received donations from individuals that were part of the volunteers’ social networks. For example, Michael was active in vegan events around Vancouver. At the Vegan Animal Voices Bake Sale, contributors donated their leftover cookies, muffins, peanut butter balls, and other treats to Food Not Bombs with the goal of serving them and other donated baked goods at the Women’s Memorial March (field notes February 12, 2015). Jacquie had a talent for making friends and finding donations. When moving into their new apartment, Jacquie met one of their neighbors and offered him food, saying she makes up small bags of groceries for another single dad in the complex. He thanked her and proceeded to offer food for us to serve in the Downtown Eastside when he encounters it through his work, liquidation. Jacquie said what we most need are dry goods, cooking staples like olive oil. He said recently he got a pallet or two of three-liter cans of olive oil. When we went upstairs, he gave one to us (field notes September 27, 2014). Sometimes, the Craigslist postings came through: A woman was about to post on Craigslist that she had pasta and grains to give away for free, but before she did so she saw the Food 102		Not Bombs Vancouver ad so she contacted Jacquie and Jane directly. She gave an eclectic mix of grains including couscous and teff—Jane was particularly excited about the teff, an especially nutritious Ethiopian grain (field notes November 22, 2014). Using Facebook as a social network, Todd Serious, a former volunteer with Food Not Bombs Vancouver, offered potatoes from his garden: “I have 100 pounds of organic homegrown potatoes. If FnB can use them I will deliver. Would like to drop them off tomorrow tho. Text me” (December 31, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page).  At other moments, donations were offered to Food Not Bombs but Food Not Bombs had to refuse them due to lack of storage space as well as a shortage of volunteers to process the additional volume of food. One long-time Food Not Bombs Vancouver volunteer, Noelle, suggested requesting donations from a bakery that donated to Food Not Bombs Vancouver in the past. The other volunteers present gently refused, saying we had too much bread already from Terra Breads (field notes November 1, 2014). Individual donations from Food Not Bombs participants and from people in their social networks as well as donations requested through online advertising helped to stock the Food Not Bombs kitchen. However, these donations did not compare to the volume of produce given by Organic Produce or the amount of bread donated by Terra Breads. As a participant with Food Not Bombs, I volunteered my time and my car to “do the produce pick-up” at Organic Produce. Here is the initial conversation via text message: Jacquie: Hey it’s Jacquie, fnb :) Wanna pick up some produce around 5? My girlfriend and I always do some diving too mostly but we need more. Sarah: Of course! Where? Jacquie: Yes! Lemme just call and confirm then send addy… There’s some really cool people involved, pretty fun times. So it’s a big ol warehouse, we rode bikes down there last week and lugged up 50lbs. Car is rad (Jacquie, personal communication, September 19, 2014)  103		That afternoon, my husband, Brad, and I drove to the Organic Produce distribution center in East Vancouver. After passing the iconic Commercial Drive, the previously main thoroughfare (Broadway) became more residential. We turned off of Broadway and almost immediately saw some industrial buildings with tall chain link fences but no signs to indicate the names of the businesses. Everything, even the sky, was light gray with no mark of human personality. It was certainly an industrial area. After unwittingly passing Organic Produce, we turned around and finally saw a sign with the street addresses of the businesses as well as a driveway into a small asphalt parking area behind an unmarked building. After parking on the street, we walked through the parking lot and finally found the address written near a white door at the back of the complex. To the right of the door were two loading with fold-up metal doors that were sitting about three feet from the ground. On the door was an 8.5x11 paper with text printed off a computer, giving warnings and directions about entering the warehouse. It said that it was an operating warehouse and to be careful. On another paper was a more provocative message: “No GMOs.” Not seeing a buzzer, I knocked on the door.  Having heard no response, I tentatively opened the door and stepped into the chilled warehouse. The room was relatively large with cardboard boxes stacked against the walls and some stacked or just resting alone in the center of the floor. Ahead of us were thick opaque plastic ribbons stretching from ceiling to floor, marking the entrance to rooms refrigerated at lower temperatures. I timidly called out “hello” as I stopped just before the ribbons. A man with a ponytail came through the ribbons. I explained that I was with Food Not Bombs and that I was there to pick up a donation if they happened to have anything. Because he did not handle donations, he went to find someone to assist me—later he observed that “you” (i.e. Food Not Bombs) usually have a bike. After a short time, another man emerged and 104		introduced himself (here, known pseudonymously as Ryan). He asked how much we could carry and I replied that we had a Prius; Ryan suggested 10 boxes. He asked what we wanted and I said, “Whatever you’d like to give us!” I said that we would figure out a recipe with whatever we received, adding that on one occasion we were given a huge bag of parsnips and had the opportunity to find and try something new since none of us had ever had a parsnip. Ryan then suggested using pureed parsnips for soup. He said he needed about ten minutes to get something together. I thanked him again then pulled the car up to the loading dock. Ryan opened the door to the dock, sliding it upwards into the ceiling. He had about twelve boxes containing thirteen different items stacked right behind him and a clipboard in his hand. He asked me if I would sign for the produce. I printed and signed my name on a paper that listed the number of cases of each item, the name of the item donated, and the grower of that item. I asked how he decided what to give us; he said he considered what they have and what might “go together”. Brad and I thanked him again and loaded up the car with the boxes. This scene repeated itself almost every week with my arrival, conversation with the two employees responsible for donations, waiting for them to choose produce, and loading the boxes into either my car or into another volunteer’s car.    Figure 7 Spinach for Food Not Bombs, April 4, 2015. Photo by author. (On occasion, one of the employees at Organic Produce would intentionally mark a box or two “Food Not Bombs” in order to set it aside as part of their donation to Food Not Bombs)  105		As I went almost every week to Organic Produce, I was invited further into the refrigerators, learning about their produce and their donation procedures. Organic Produce enables food that would otherwise go to waste to be recycled in three ways: offering unsold produce to their employees, donating unclaimed produce to organizations, and giving unused produce to farmers for either compost or pig feed. In each case, they take food that is either about to be ‘expired’—in the sense of ‘going bad,’ at the edge of its ripeness—or already turning from ripe to moldy, slimy, and less appealing to eat. In fact, this food sometimes rivaled that of food taken from dumpsters.  Figure 8 “Blotchy pick box,” November 9, 2014. Photo by author. (Sometimes Food Not Bombs would receive boxes that had notes indicating produce in less than ideal condition)  On numerous occasions, dumpster diving came up as a topic of conversation. Noelle in particular would light up at the mention of dumpster diving, describing her conquests, strategies, and encounters with deterrents such as detergent—well, actually bleach. While receiving donations moved the fate of the produce they received from becoming compost to becoming food to eat, volunteers recognized dumpster diving recognized as a more poignant food recovery strategy. While surveying the pineapples, green beans, tomatoes, bell peppers, 106		broccoli, melons, and plums and that made up our produce donation on the balcony, I mentioned an upcoming Vancouver Food Policy Council meeting. Jane enthusiastically suggested that we cook for it and to make sure to use only dumpstered food (field notes October 4, 2014). Dumpster diving provides an opportunity to eat food that has been wasted as opposed to donated food that has yet to be wasted. Dumpster diving provides a particularly poignant critique of capitalist food systems for three notable reasons: 1) consuming food from dumpsters proves its edibility and therefore highlights wastefulness, 2) encountering the laws and protections on dumpsters demonstrates the importance of private property above the needs of society, and 3) touching a dumpster and its contents elicits powerful emotions, namely revulsion. In New York, Barnard (2011, 428) worked with a group of freegans who gathered audiences for their dumpster diving endeavors, showing them vast amounts of edible waste in dumpsters behind markets. In Vancouver, a couple filmed their dumpster diving expeditions to show that dumpsters provided them with the food they needed for an entire year (Baldwin 2014). While there is ‘edible’—depending on one’s definition of edibility—food to be found in dumpsters, it is often protected. Clark (2004, 27) observed, “It was ironic to punks that people are hassled by security guards, store employees, and police merely for taking things out of a dumpster. Not only did the mainstream waste food, it protected its garbage with armed guards.” When discussing dumpster diving in Vancouver, Noelle warned that in addition to locks she had encountered bleach on various dumpster diving excursions (field notes November 1, 2014). While freegans, punks, and a daring couple found food in dumpsters to be edible, this is largely against people’s commonsense. In fact, it is something to be reviled. Food in dumpsters is understood to not be edible food but inedible trash.  107		 Figure 9 Locked dumpsters behind the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, January 25, 2015. Photo by author.  However, within the worlds of punks, freegans, and those who live off the waste of capitalism, this trash has the potential to be edible food.  The Food and Agriculture Organization of the UN states that one third of food produced is lost in production or wasted in consumption (Food Loss and Food Waste. Accessed February 11, 2016. http://www.fao.org/food-loss-and-food-waste/en/). The City of Vancouver estimates that forty percent of trash is “food scraps” (“Food Isn’t Garbage: 2015 Organics Ban.” Accessed February 13, 2016. http://vancouver.ca/home-property-development/food-isnt-garbage-2015-organics-ban.aspx). Therefore, taking donations of food that is nearing its expiration date, bruised, or molded, rescues food that would otherwise end up in a landfill or compost. While the city government of Vancouver considers the food that ends up in landfills or composting “food scraps” or “food waste,” Food Not Bombs volunteers consider this “food waste” to often be better identified as wasted food, otherwise edible food that has been discarded.  This conception of trash as an incidence of capitalist waste, as demonstrative of the primacy of private property wherein unwanted trash is protected while people are hungry, and potentially edible rather than repulsive, make dumpstered food a strategic choice to critique capitalist food systems in a particularly affective manner. It was therefore the 108		preferred mechanism for obtaining food for protest while donated food sufficed for weekly food distributions in the Downtown Eastside where the primary goal was to at least momentarily alleviate hunger. Before serving food in the Downtown Eastside, volunteers prepared the food, deciding if this sometimes moldy, slimy, and bruised produce would make it to the table. 3.2.2 Preparation: Making protest food [To] the folks who just wanna be involved when they can with little organization, structure, agenda, or hierarchy,  there's a little kitchen in east van where everyone and anyone is crammed into  and yer all invited…  and in the spirit of what fnb is all about let's make a mess and warm some bellies and  cram a little vegan mischievous deliciousness down yer governments gully hole as a  food fight against bullshit spending and destruction while all this waste equals hunger and poverty.  Put a colander on yer head, throw in your apron and wield yer ladles loud n proud. (Jacquie. January 13, 2015. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  Like acquiring food, volunteers apply their values and practical constraints as filters during the process of preparing food. Volunteers applied principles of non-violence and egalitarianism while processing food. They assessed edibility based on a standard of vegetarianism and an evaluation of rottenness. In addition, they found ways to collaborate and come to consensus in their food preparation activities. Like all Food Not Bombs activities, volunteers worked in such a way as to promote non-violence and egalitarianism while creatively subverting the ‘mainstream.’ Like Jacquie alluded to in her post, anarchist (dis)organization, egalitarianism, collaboration, veganism, and protesting with food about oppressive and alienating food systems characterized the Food Not Bombs Vancouver kitchen.  After rescuing food from its likely death as compost or pig food, volunteers would take food to a volunteer’s apartment for processing. Often, I would pick up the donated 109		produce, another volunteer would pick up bread, and additional volunteers would bring food they received or found in a dumpster. We would gather at either Jacquie and Jane’s apartment or Michael’s apartment and proceed with the food preparation. The first step was to move the food inside. After carrying nine boxes of produce weighing a over one hundred pounds and three twenty-five (or was it fifty?) pound bags of bread up four flights of stairs the previous week, Jacquie and Jane created a “pulley system” to bring food up to their apartment. This “pulley system” was not quite a pulley but rather a blue recycling tub attached to some rough string.   Figure 10 Jacquie and Jane’s “pulley,” October 3, 2014. Photo by author.  When I arrived at Jacquie and Jane’s apartment, we unloaded the boxes of produce from my car, leaving some boxes to fill the blue recycling tub, putting some away in the “lockup,” and carry the rest upstairs. We would assess which food items we wanted to process in the kitchen and which food items we wanted to serve raw. After grabbing a few items to snack on, we took the to-be-served-raw produce (e.g. bananas) into a storage room that Jacquie and Jane called “the lockup.” Then, Jacquie would lower down the tub and Jane and I would fill it with as much weight as we thought Jacquie could lift. Whoever had free hands would carry 110		some ‘light’ boxes upstairs. We quickly realized there were almost no light boxes and, after four flights of stairs, we struggled with even a box of green beans. This heavy lifting became part of Food Not Bombs Vancouver advertising:  Figure 11 Sign on poster board at Jacquie and Jane’s apartment, November 8, 2014. Photo by author.  After the produce and bread found its way into the apartment, we started to assess its potential: what could we cook with what was in front of us?  What follows are three excerpts from my field notes where I include how food is processed and what topics of conversation emerge around the food. In the excerpt from October 11, 2014, I highlight some of the exchanges took place with respect to deciding what to cook and how to cook it. This provides a window into the informal education we gave one another as we shared our experiences with various foods. In the excerpts from October 25-26, 2014 and November 8, 2014, I highlight the incorporation of a new volunteer who had somewhat more hygienic scruples. This helps unveil hidden assumptions about what it means to be a Food Not Bombs kitchen. Finally, in the excerpt from March 15, 2015, I focus on the discussions surrounding organizing and planning anarchically. Field notes October 11, 2014: What does one do with chard? Heading upstairs, regretting wearing no shoes, Jacquie commented on the “uriney” back steps. Once upstairs, we stood over the produce that seemed to be pouring into the 111		apartment from the balcony: mostly potatoes and cauliflower rolled in in through the open sliding glass door.   Figure 12 Produce on the balcony, October 11, 2014. Photo by author.  While surveying the produce Jacquie said, “so here’s what I’m thinking: mashed potatoes, chickpeas with cauliflower and maybe tomato base, stuffing.” I agreed. Heading inside, I found the large rectangular light-colored wood cutting board from the bottom shelf in the bookshelf that housed cookware then turned to look for a sharp-ish knife. I placed the cutting board on the floor with the knife on top. I headed to what Jacquie called the “Food Not Bombs closet” which consisted of a shelved space at the end of a very short hallway with the left wall marked by the Food Not Bombs logo—the image of a purple fist holding an orange carrot. There, I found a large silver pot. After finding my food preparation materials, I then thought about what exactly I would chop first. Potatoes. The overwhelming amount of potatoes flowing inside meant someone needed to tackle this task. Jacquie got herself a cutting board and knife then turned to find somewhere to place the cauliflower she was about to obliterate. Holding up a large silver bowl, Jacquie asked me if I thought it was too big for their stove or too thin to cook in. I agreed that it was too thin so Jacquie rummaged around in 112		the closet to find another silver pot. While starting to pull apart a head of cauliflower, Jacquie said that last night, after I had told them what produce Organic Produce donated, she and Jane thought they could make a stew with cauliflower, chickpeas, and tomatoes. Excited about this recipe, she got into the cauliflower first.  As we sat and chopped and tore, Ferguson came up in conversation. At that time, I had just returned from a research trip with Philadelphia Food Not Bombs. While there, I met with a Food Not Bombs volunteer, Shon, who had been in Ferguson for the previous month. Talking to Jacquie, she mentioned the “celebrity” “Officer Go Fuck Yourself.” As a street medic, Shon had been there to see that exchange. On the front lines of the protest, he observed firsthand the police’s use of “military-grade” weaponry and violent anger. “Officer Go Fuck Yourself” was particularly brutal, swearing at people standing opposite him. One person asked the officer his name and he replied, “go fuck yourself” so the crowd started addressing him as “Officer Go Fuck Yourself.”  Turning toward the task at hand, I found myself finished cutting the potatoes in front of me—but certainly not even close to addressing the whole pile. Jacquie suggested I boil them with water and a little salt. I carried the pot to the stove, added water with a glass bowl that had been on the drying rack, grabbed salt from the cupboard, sprinkled salt over the top, and then turned the dial to high for the small electric burner at the back of the stove. Back to cutting we found tiny potatoes and commented on their cuteness, throwing them whole into the pot. We liked these “baby potatoes” since our hands could rest from knife wielding. Once the second pot was ready, I put it on the large burner in the front of the stove. With only one lid, I rotated it between the pots. Jacquie said once the potatoes are boiled, she would pour one of the pots into the other, add salt and pepper, and mash them. After dealing with the 113		potatoes, we turned to the rainbow chard. I was the only one who had encountered this vegetable before so I suggested we cut it up, put it in a large pot, and cook with a little olive oil and apple cider vinegar. Taking one or two leaves in hand and placing them on the cutting board, I remembered Cindy’s (Food Not Bombs West Philadelphia volunteer) advice and cut the stem out with a V-shaped cut using two strokes of the knife. When Jane came into the apartment, she said the dumpster was locked so she was not able to find any stuffing mix. Taking a moment to rest from her excursion, she grabbed a bong and moved toward the window. Jacquie asked her if she had any thoughts on cooking. She said she did not really know what we were doing so Jacquie mentioned the mashed potatoes, possible stuffing, chard and the cauliflower stew they had envisioned the previous night. She was pleased with this idea and joined us on the floor. When Juan came into the apartment, Jacquie exclaimed, “Juan is here!” We told him what we were thinking of making. Looking at my pile of discarded chard stems, Juan asked why I was not using the stems, commenting that they were perfectly good to eat. I apologetically said I did not know that and that using them would be great since it would create less waste and provide more food. Since I had been working on the chard for some time, evidenced by the dark green stains under my fingertips and at the base of my fingernails, Juan took over. He sat on the floor and started cutting the stems into small pieces, saying that they just need longer to cook than the leaves.  Field Notes October 25-26, 2014 “Show her the ropes”  Braving the rain and cold, Juan arrived by bicycle when I did and helped me carry a first load of food upstairs. He took off then stuck one of his black, leather-like laced shoes in the door to keep it open for whoever ended up carrying boxes by hand. We went inside, 114		product in hand, and saw a woman with black hair that was laced with the slightest gray falling just below her shoulders. She was sitting on the day bed with a gray TV tray-like plastic table in front of her, slicing apples and putting them onto bread pans—pans that Jacquie called by another name; Alana corrected her saying, “they’re bread pans.” Alana was in her 40s, believed her son thinks she was “weird” for her politics, and had two pit bull mix dogs with her in the car. Alana had discovered Food Not Bombs on Craigslist—Jane said she had been “spamming the internet” about Food Not Bombs. After talking briefly with Alana and Jane, Juan and I went back downstairs. Jacquie came downstairs to put bananas and grapes in the “lock-up” saying, “There’s nothing to do to prep the grapes.” Juan began to carry boxes upstairs. Jane lowered the tub for me to fill. Estimating the weight Jane would be able to lift, I poured one third of the potatoes into the tub. For the cucumbers, I was able to put the plastic bag with hole-puncher sized holes into the tub directly.  Figure 13 Persian cucumbers in holey plastic bag, October 26, 2014. Photo by author.  Deciding that the tub was rather heavy, we carried the cauliflower, herbs, and carrots by hand. Juan, Jane, Jacquie, and Alana had never seen purple carrots before. By the time we were done preparing them, our purpled hands revealed how well acquainted we had become with these carrots!  115		I had barely arrived when Jacquie mentioned the need to get bread. She had messaged me on my way, asking if I might be able to stop but I said I did not think I had room in the car since it was full of produce. At first, Jacquie said she would go with Alana but she then asked me if I would go with Alana to “show her the ropes.” On the way, Alana told me about trying to get Naomi Klein tickets from Vancouver Institute. She said I must have heard about it; the talk was “all over” her news feeds. I asked her about why she was interested in volunteering with Food Not Bombs. She said she was concerned about waste and liked that we received donated food.  When we got back to the apartment, I suggested we leave one of the bags of bread in the car for me to slice tomorrow. I grabbed one of the bread bags and put it over my shoulder, saying I was like bread Santa. When we got to the back door, I was about to set the bag on the ground while we waited for Jacquie to open the door. Alana did not like that idea. I carried it upstairs and set it down to shift shoulders after three flights. Jacquie took over at that point, carrying the bag the rest of the way inside. Once inside, Alana wanted us to take off the outer bag since I had set it on the ground. I said we should probably leave it on since we’ll be setting it on the ground tomorrow.    Figure 14 Plastic-covered bread, October 26, 2014. Photo by author.   116		Once Alana and I got settled back into the kitchen with Jacquie, Jane, and Juan, we learned about and contributed to their imagined a menu: steamed carrots—which were later added to the roasted vegetable medley, cabbage salad with Persian cucumbers, garlicky potato and cauliflower—we added in carrots and eggplant and only made one small batch of soup and roasted the rest of the potatoes and cauliflower, sautéed green beans, and apple crumble—that turned into apple crumble and applesauce. Jacquie stood over the hot stove sautéing batch after batch of the green beans I had painstakingly sorted, tossing the irrecoverable slimy and fuzzy ones and cutting the slippery brown ends off of the rest.   Figure 15 Slimy green beans, October 25, 2014. Photo by author.  After the green beans, Jacquie started on baking the potatoes. There was also a box, lined with foil—Jacquie commented on being proud of herself for adding the foil—that was full of wonderful looking roasted yellow potato slices with oil seeping through the walls of the box. 117		 Figure 16 Roasted potatoes, October 26, 2014. Photo by author.   Juan cut potatoes for the soup. He then cut a couple of eggplants that Jane or Jacquie found that were leftover from last week. While he cut potatoes, Jacquie commented on giving him another task, maybe having him play the banjo he had brought—he played while we were out getting bread. Laughing, Jacquie said his chopping was loud. I started to laugh too when he chopped, saying now I could not help but pay attention to the noise of the knife on the wood block. 118		 Figure 17 Cutting board and knives, October 26, 2014. Photo by author. (The knives did not look like they had been cleaned between Saturday and Sunday)   Sitting on the floor dealing with cauliflower (i.e. I was tearing apart cauliflower with my hands), Juan and I started talking. Juan was originally from South America but moved with his family to California at age 7. In the last year or so, he ran out of his visa so now living in Canada as a sociology student—he said he is studying sociology because it is the only degree that is relevant for the stuff he is interested in.  Figure 18 Sliced carrots in “steamer” and cut cabbage, October 26, 2014. Photo by author.  Throughout the evening, people munched on cucumbers with some salt, grapes, bananas, and bread. When Alana took a piece of the olive bread to snack on, Jacquie offered butter. Jane corrected her saying it was vegan margarine. This led to a conversation about veganism, 119		vegetarianism, and the acceptability of donated items like eggs. Alana mentioned an organic market in Richmond near where she lived and that perhaps she could get a donation of eggs at this market. Jacquie (somewhat apologetically) said she did not want eggs in their house. I supported her, saying Food Not Bombs is at least vegetarian but this is her and Jane’s home and they have decided it is a vegan space. When Alana said meat is good for people, that they need that nutrition, Jacquie mentioned lentils provide good protein and if meat is provided, it is not Food Not Bombs. Ironically, a discussion about the lack of appeal about having potentially sour milk was followed with observing our increasingly “sketchy” vegetarian soup.  As the soup simmered on the stove, a grayish purple film began to emerge. Standing over the soup, Jacquie, Jane, and I skimmed a bit of whatever seemed to be on the top, smelled it, and debated if it was good. It did not actually smell like much of anything. This was surprising considering the stench of the cauliflower—Jacquie had commented that after serving cauliflower the Downtown Eastside smelled like a cauliflower fart. I scraped a bit of the film off with a fork and felt it between my thumb and index finger. We had no idea what it was: scum or mold? We decided it was likely scum—Jacquie suggested maybe from the potatoes. So we turned the heat up, brought it back to a low boil and stirred it.   Figure 19 Purple carrot soup, October 26, 2014. Photo by author. 120		An hour later, still not looking too edible, Jane considered what she could do to help it. We all tore some basil leaves off their stalks, tore them into little bits, then added it to the soup. With Jane’s approval, Jacquie asked me to grab the magic bullet off the top of a bookshelf that housed cookware. I grabbed the black, surprisingly heavy, little electric base and handed it to her. Then, I reached up, on tiptoe, and grabbed the plastic piece of the machine into which the food would go. Jacquie scooped up soup in the plastic container and started to blend bits of the soup. The next day, we continued to refer to the “sketchy soup.” Jacquie mentioned not serving anything we would not eat ourselves, so she hesitatingly but bravely scooped up some in a small Jacobin—their cat—bowl. She said it was not bad. Jane tried it later, saying it just needed more salt. When we returned from Main and Hastings, we were in agreement that the salt made it edible (i.e. good to eat).  The next day we cleaned up the remains of the produce that we had decided was less edible. Jacquie began to toss the boxes that had become our compost piles off the balcony into the asphalt parking lot below. Jacquie threw bad lettuce and cabbage, commenting on the lettuce’s liquidy sliminess. Standing on the balcony in a puddle of lettuce slime, she asked me to hand her a kitchen towel. I handed her the one next to me on the day bed. She wiped it off her feet, calling it “disgusting slime.”  121		  Figure 20 Lettuce slime, October 26, 2014. Photos by author. (Lettuce in boxes that had been thrown off the balcony—to get them closer to the dumpster—and onto the asphalt)   After this bit of cleanup, we recovered some donated items and gear from the “lockup”—a storage space on the first floor of the apartment complex to which Jacquie and Jane had permission to store Food Not Bombs gear including a bike, bike trailer, banners, cart, and plastic tubs containing small ceramic bowls and metal utensils. At the “lock up,” I placed then turned the key in each of the two locks. I opened the barn-like doors and looked inside. Jacquie had said the Food Not Bombs stuff is easily identified. Jane and I looked at the gear, deciding what we needed. One large bag contained plastic utensils, paper plates, and 122		Styrofoam bowls. Jane jumped in to sort through the bag and consolidate utensils, plates, and bowls into the bag while taking everything else—like an assortment of plastic bags—out. I took the table out first and brought it to the car.   Figure 21 Food Not Bombs stuff, October 26, 2014. Photos by author.  We went back upstairs to start loading the food into the car. Jane ran to grab some tuques she had gotten together to donate then lowered a number of cooked items that included the following: a jar of hot peppers that Jane had pickled the previous week (red, orange, and yellow peppers in a garlicky broth), pesto in a bowl covered tightly with saran wrap, and apple crumbles.  123		Since it was 3pm and we had not yet left, Jacquie said maybe we should call people to tell them to show up later. Jane had been corresponding with them and went ahead and suggested they come by a bit later than previously anticipated. Jane decided to stay and clean up since there were two people coming to help serve. (As a side note, that day people did comment on the tastiness of our otherwise uninviting purple colored soup). November 8, 2014 The Buggy Brussels Sprouts  I arrived at dusk at Jacquie and Jane’s. As usual, it was a little chilly with a curtain of lightly falling rain. I carried the “blotchy pick box” with me up to Jacquie and Jane’s apartment. Jacquie, Jane, and I looked at what we had and started to think about potential dishes. We assumed there would be soup so I set out to cutting celery and potatoes immediately. Jane mentioned mashed potatoes so she boiled whole potatoes right away—though they ended up going into the soups because she only boiled a small pot of them and the rest were either already in soups or roasted. We talked about guacamole; I said we could probably wait until tomorrow to make it because the avocados brown very quickly—we ended up handing them out whole because the ones Jacquie and Jane cut into were stringy and a little brownish gray inside. We talked about making a sauce. Although that plan shifted too: the sauce became a salad.  As we sat on the floor and the day bed, rummaging through piles of cauliflower, celery, tomatoes, potatoes, avocadoes, and Brussels sprouts we discussed these stinky, dirty, slippery, and buggy vegetables. Jacquie insisted cauliflower is bad but cabbage smells even worse. Jane dealt with the celery that seemed infused with dirt—it became known as “celery dirt.” I attempted to take a sticker off a tomato that was far too slippery to take off without just cutting—meaning squishing my knife—into the skin. Then there were the Brussels 124		sprouts.    Figure 22 Apartment cooking, November 8, 2014. Photos by author.  While Jacquie sat on the couch with a bong in her hand and Jane on the ground with the tomatoes in front of her and me perched—temporarily useless since I was not at that moment chopping or roasting anything—on the edge of the couch, Alana tackled the Brussels sprouts. Jacquie, Jane, and I agreed we were a little burnt out; Jacquie said she feels “over it” at some point every week while cooking over a hundred of pounds of produce. Alana was feeling refreshed. Finding out that we were intending to simply toss them in oil and bake 125		them as they were, Alana stepped in to pick through the ten pounds of Brussels sprouts. She sat on the day bed with a small table in front of her and, to her side, the box of Brussels sprouts resting on top of a box of tomatoes. Her legs were crossed and her mary-jane-style-comfy walking shoes were revealed under the table. She pulled off the outside leaves and cut off the ends, tossing the ends and outer leaves into a box she had on the floor that we had designated for compost. At first, Jacquie thought this was a bit of a waste of time but then she decided to rummage through those scraps and discovered some icky bits. When the box was getting full, Jacquie asked for it. After rummaging through the Brussels sprouts, and commenting it was “the dumpster diver in me” that made her go through Alana’s discard pile, Jacquie conceded some were “kinda gross” (e.g. they had black spots, sliminess, and bugginess). While Jacquie did pull out a fair number of perfectly edible Brussels sprouts she also encountered some “buggy” qualities: a slug was found on one of them. However, Jacquie and I looked at each other and whispered in agreement that we would not have thrown out quite so much. Having sat in front of and handled so many Brussels sprouts, Jacquie also said “the weed tastes like Brussels sprouts.” After smoking she tipped the dried marijuana into the compost pile thus creating the buggy, weedy Brussels sprouts. The apartment was permeated with the smells of Brussels sprouts and celery—though, thankfully, the sweet scent of roasting potatoes soon overcame over the other scents that had invaded the air. While adding the tandoori seasoning that Alana had brought as well as the coconut milk that she had found on sale for $0.99—though it was not the organic kind that Alana preferred, Jane described Food Not Bombs to Alana. While wading through tomato juice on the floor, Alana asked if Food Not Bombs is a “worldwide organization.” Jacquie said, “It's a 126		movement.” Jane said it is a worldwide organization but “our chapter does its own thing.” Alana then asked how Food Not Bombs got started. Jane told her it started as an anti-nuclear protest with about eight people. Alana responded, “oh, that's where the war message comes from.” Interspersed within this topic, we noted our need for various products like utensils; Jacquie said we could maybe ask Andrew and Malcolm at the Smiling Buddha Cabaret to put out a donation jar for Food Not Bombs at their events. With respect to utensils, Alana suggested we could ask people to bring their own forks.  Jacquie noted that we did have some non-disposable ones but she did not want to wash them at her house. Alana said they could just have them bring own. Jacquie said she has asked people to bring their own bags since she does not like “being treated like a grocery store” (e.g. when people ask us to provide bags) but people still didn’t bring them. Jacquie said Insite has donated utensils to us before. Conversations thus flowed from food topics (i.e. Jane commenting on the testing of pharmaceuticals on animals to Alana—Alana said she did not want to know—and how Jane pickled those hot peppers) to non-food topics such religious backgrounds. These conversations were always interrupted with decisions about whether or not to try to make coffee in the large coffee maker or if we should go to Costco to replenish the dish soap. All the while the buggy, weedy Brussels sprouts leftovers sat on the floor. March 15, 2015 “Bread Not Bombs” Sloshing through the wet walkway to the door on the side of a large house, I arrived at Jacquie and Jane’s new apartment—a ground level suite that did not deserve the word ‘new.’ Just before reaching the red door, I saw Howard ahead of me. Howard was a newer volunteer who moved to Vancouver to find better weather and the possibility of working on an urban farm. Not too long after we arrived, Michael came over, as usual kept warm with a 127		green and black-checkered hoodie.  What we found before us was bread. So much bread: walnut bread, olive bread, fruit and nut bread, sourdough bread, wheat bread, baguettes, loaves, and a box of sweets. Howard, upon seeing the vast quantities of bread, suggested today we were “Bread Not Bombs.” Michael brought with him some donations to contribute to our bread bonanza: a jar of peanut butter, a squeeze bottle of strawberry jelly, a jar of banana crunch peanut butter, and a nutella-like spread. Crouched on the floor around the coffee table, Howard, Michael, and I made PB&J-like sandwiches. In the kitchen, Jacquie created a vegan sandwich filling that consisted of chickpeas, onions garlic, and vegan mayo. While cutting bread and slathering it with a variety of spreads, we started to plan. First order of business: volunteers. Jane had begun a new job giving information on transit referendum. Jacquie told Howard that Jane is part of Food Not Bombs too but cannot help as much as she'd like. As usual, we lamented the difference between what we wanted to achieve with Food Not Bombs and what we could actually do with limited volunteers and resources. As always, there were also some positives: Howard had joined us and Michael had contact information for a new volunteer. And, this was not just any volunteer: he had a car! However, this potential volunteer said he could not make it this afternoon but would try for next week—as was too often the case, this potential volunteer never actually appeared. Second order of business: places to cook. Jacquie lamented her tiny kitchen and her and Jane’s difficulty in hosting every week. I supported her, agreeing it was a lot of responsibility to take on. I suggested the possibility of alternating kitchens or even cutting back to twice a month food distributions if they were getting burnt out. Jacquie said we could even do once a month but Michael said but it would be good for it to be regular (i.e. weekly) 128		because people count on us. Since we had had this conversation previously and with the support of those present, I had already contacted a collective house network. However, nothing had come of this contact yet. Michael had asked a few places and had recently come into contact with a local organization that acts as a café and community space with the goal of cooperative ventures that promote the common good. Unfortunately, Jacquie and Jane—as well as previous Food Not Bombs participants—had had unpleasant interactions with one of their members. Jacquie then said that the group itself is “cool.” For the time being, Jacquie said that her and Jane are looking for a bigger place but will not move until they find a good apartment.  Third order of business: events. Jacquie suggested we do something for May Day. We all nodded in agreement but the conversation did not go further with any detailed planning. Michael mentioned wanting to do a fundraiser in the near future. Jacquie said that the owners of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret said we could host a fundraiser there. We agreed that that would be great!  Finally, we discussed a proposal: Kim’s filming. Kim had contacted us via email, asking if she could film us serving food in the Downtown Eastside. Her goal was to get some footage for a journalism class she was taking at a local technical college. Everyone agreed to her filming. However, Michael said he would prefer not to use his real name. He noted that this request was “more because of work” because he maintains an online presence—presumably what follows is “more because of work” than because he is afraid of “the authorities.” We joked his real name already seems fake. Jacquie mentioned the 1995 documentary of Food Not Bombs that she had recently watched: in it, the volunteers all wore masks. 129		Shifting abruptly from conversation to action, we swooped up the various prepared foods and rushed to the bus. Armed with a plastic tub of sandwiches covered in plastic wrap, a plastic bag over the tray of sweets, and plastic gloves for serving, we headed out to the Smiling Buddha Cabaret. This is how food preparation went: each week a few core volunteers and some visitors would come together, each contributing their own flavors to the dishes and to conversation. In this section I will describe what factors serve to in/exclude potential volunteers and how markers of authority arose within non-hierarchical organization. From there, I will summarize the way the space of the kitchen opened up opportunities for learning, socializing, and organizing. In conclusion, I show how the dishes that were concocted were not only an experiment in prefigurative politics but also emerged as protest dishes. While there are useful techniques for non-hierarchical organizing, I found that learning, sociability, and planning within the Food Not Bombs kitchen simply unfolds non-hierarchically. There is no need for a state or patriarch to learn, socialize, or plan. David Graeber (2009) compares consensus with deciding on a pizza and my experiences with Food Not Bombs have caused me to reflect on how much of life proceeds in such a way—in fact, this experience is part of what provides volunteers with evidence that state systems, “business sense,” and capitalism are unnecessary. At the same time, roles emerge within the space of the kitchen. While subcultural identification, gender, age, race, and class factored into whether or not a person decided to volunteer with Food Not Bombs Vancouver initially, the interactions within the kitchen were influenced more by personality, degree of involvement, and previous experience with Food Not Bombs. Here, volunteers negotiated what to cook, how to cook it, and when and where to serve it.  130		The volunteers that thrived within Food Not Bombs Vancouver tended to be ‘countercultural’ white men and women between nineteen and thirty with outgoing personalities who were willing to take initiative in Food Not Bombs food preparation activities. In fact, just appearing at the Food Not Bombs kitchen was an act of courage. People regularly contacted Food Not Bombs Vancouver via email or Facebook. However, very few actually knocked on Jacquie and Jane’s door. Those who had participated with Food Not Bombs in the past were likely to have confidence to “jump right in.” Having volunteered with Food Not Bombs in Melbourne, Roxie contacted the organizers then appeared at the Food Not Bombs kitchen and immediately began prepping food. Those who had had past experience with Food Not Bombs were at first looked to as having wisdom to bestow. However, this itself did not guarantee a higher status. Even though Michael had volunteered with Food Not Bombs for over eight years in the U.S., his suggestions for cooking were not always adopted.  As Katsiaficas (2006) notes with respect to activist engagement, degree of involvement lead to differential status. For example, when cooking in Jacquie and Jane’s or Michael’s kitchen, they served as not only hosts but organizers. For example, they tended to decide what time we began. In addition, those who volunteered regularly also gained some authority within the group. This was codified when a Facebook message group was started. Because the Vancouver Food Not Bombs page had over one thousand members, it was not conducive to weekly organizing. Therefore, Jacquie started a message thread and included only those who attended on at least a monthly basis—in the previous iteration of Food Not Bombs Vancouver the core volunteers created an additional but private Facebook group to which volunteers would have to be invited to join. While the primary intention of food 131		preparation was to create dishes to be served as a protest, it was also an experiment in non-hierarchical organizing. Furthermore, cooking provided opportunities for learning, socializing, and organizing.  Learning. Many times when we sat down to chop or boil something, we simply took the initiative to move ahead with food preparation. However, it was also very common to discuss what to make and how to make it. In the first excerpt, Juan helped us waste less by teaching us that the stems of the chard were perfectly edible when boiled for a long enough time period. In the third excerpt, we learned that carrots can be purple—and that purple carrots make purple soup. Learning extended to socialization. Here, volunteers learned about other ways of thinking and being. Socializing ranged from amusing ourselves with weedy Brussels sprouts to socialization into radical worlds. Jacquie and Jane told Alana about how Food Not Bombs originated, their decision to be vegan—including what they meant by ‘vegan’ in terms of what foods they ate and the myriad of ways animals are abused in food and drug industries, and how to pickle your own peppers. Volunteers were also socialized into non-hierarchical organizing by observing and practicing collaboration and consensus. While not a squat or collective kitchen, Jacquie and Jane welcomed people into their kitchen to use as if it were their own. Although technically a private residence, the Food Not Bombs Vancouver kitchen was a place where anyone could grab a cutting board and knife, sit on the floor, and begin work. There was almost no differentiation between Food Not Bombs’ food or supplies and Jacquie and Jane’s food and supplies—clearly the most ‘successful’ volunteers were those who jumped right in, finding knives and cutting boards in the kitchen and getting right to work. And we listened and took notice if, for example, someone had been doing a lot of the 132		onion chopping. And then, socialization also involved the practice of organizing. With most volunteers sitting, chopping, or standing and boiling, food preparation was an ideal time for organizing. At this time, we discussed ideas, planned actions, solicited volunteers, responded to potential volunteers, and strategized for how to make Food Not Bombs Vancouver better. While Jane would sit and write a post calling on the members of the Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page to join us—“Cooking tonight! Come get freaky with some grapefruit, boys n girls!” (Jane. October 11, 2014. Vancouver Food Not Bombs Facebook Page), Michael, Howard, Jacquie, and I discussed finding a larger kitchen. The conversation would proceed with each volunteer interjecting their ideas or noting their schedules. When a volunteer was silent for a time, one of us would simply ask what they thought or if they would be available. Unfortunately, our vision was often bigger than the limitations of volunteers and kitchen space. For example, while eager to serve at a May Day event, we simply could not since we were losing two volunteers due to Jane’s and Michael’s new work schedules. While Jacquie was especially excited about serving at the Women’s Memorial March on Saturday due to her history on the streets, together with Michael, Jane, and I she decided to forgo the march in favor of serving at #ShutDownCanada on Friday and our weekly food distribution on Sunday. When planning, we had to balance our lofty goals with our limited resources (i.e. volunteers, kitchen space, time—we were never short of donated food, though). Even still, Food Not Bombs always managed to make food for protest. Making food for protest means moving food from potential waste to the kitchen to the street in such a way as to become a direct action protest object. The kitchen is where this transformation largely took place. In addition to the kitchen as a space to practice 133		prefigurative politics, the kitchen is where protest food took shape: emerging out of a “blotchy pick box,” unwanted produce began to be transferred into sustenance. Food is a sponge—the literal version of which was always hard to find on the Food Not Bombs Vancouver countertop, soaking up the values and practices that went into its (re)making. In this case, its journey started when it was rescued from a meaningless life. In this anarchic—literally ‘anarchic’ in terms of the piles of produce, boxes, and bread as well as figuratively ‘anarchic’ in terms of values and ethics, disorganized kitchen, food was recycled. Intended for Vancouver’s compost heap, it was imbued with punk DIY ethic, non-violence, and egalitarianism. It was born again with its meaning realized in its sharing at the Food Not Bombs table. After growing, ripening, being harvested, and transported, it began to decay in large warehouse refrigerators. When expiring, Organic Produce workers came to its rescue. Earning the label “blotchy” (or, for “Food Not Bombs”) meant that this intended commodity instead became ‘just’ food with pure use value. Well, until Food Not Bombs came in. Their process of recycling transformed this use value into a social value: protest food. The first step in this transformation was the acquisition of food that would otherwise have been wasted. Wasting is a kind of violence wherein something living, with the biological potential to sustain life, is discarded. Produce and bread are rich energy sources that, when not consumed, are wasted. In Vancouver, they literally waste away as they decay in a compost heap. While certainly compost has more life-giving potential than a landfill, this does not help satiate hungry people in the moment. Rather, what has already taken up immense resources (e.g. water, land, fertilizer, pesticides, machinery, and human strength) simply gets cycled back into that process through the use of more resources to remake what was already edible food into compost. Food Not Bombs disrupts this process. They rescue 134		this otherwise wasted and wasteful food.  Their process of recycling has concrete and symbolic components that are tangled in the food used for protest. Tangibly, volunteers rescue a piece of produce or bread, eating it instead of discarding it. Symbolically, volunteers imbue the food with new meaning. The literal recycling process involves setting food aside, picking up the food, and processing the food. Workers at Organic Produce or Terra Breads choose to set aside their unwanted fruits, vegetables, loaves of bread, and pastries for organizations to pick up and use. Volunteers with Food Not Bombs receive these otherwise unwanted foods and take them to the Food Not Bombs kitchen for processing. In the kitchen, Food Not Bombs volunteers work with the food and remake it into a protest object. First, the food chosen is discarded: fruits, vegetables, and breads unwanted because of their sliminess, proximity to expiry, or simple overabundance. Second, it is vegan or vegetarian, highlighting the non-violent value of Food Not Bombs. Third, the food is processed in such a non-hierarchical, collective manner. The food is recycled in this anarchic kitchen.  Tim Ingold (2000) writes that rather than making objects, objects are woven in the world. Where ‘making’ implies an outside mind acting on a substance, ‘weaving’ connotes a complex intermingling of ideas, skills, experience, physical matter, and natural forces. Like Ingold’s (2000) basket maker, cooks weave together imagination (e.g. what could we do with chard?), their skill (e.g. how to effectively mince garlic), experience (e.g. Alana discovered that pickled peppers exist), physical matter (e.g. chard stems were tough but could be eaten if boiled long enough), and natural forces (e.g. boiling point of water). In addition, cooking also involved values that decided what foods were appropriate to serve at the table. Furthermore, cooking involved simple availability of and access to certain items (e.g. Jacquie and Jane 135		imagined making stuffing but the dumpsters in which they looked were less than obliging). While preparing food together, and certainly while doing so in an intentionally egalitarian Food Not Bombs kitchen, cooking was collaborative. Dishes were imagined, negotiated, prepared, and realized collectively. In the Food Not Bombs kitchen dishes were woven into being, formed with the values and practices of non-violence and egalitarianism. Even the kitchen itself was woven with countercultural imagery and the practice of collectively sharing: “One kitchen does not have to rule them all, we could maybe pass the kitchen hosting around like a bong now n then” (Jacquie. February 1, 2015. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)—around this time, the kitchen hosting was passed between Jacquie and Jane and Michael. So this kitchen is where the protest food was born. But it is in the streets that it was realized as a protest object.   3.2.3 Distribution: (In)visibility and a politics of the act Heya bomberinos! Who's up for serving some FREE hot veegz deliciousness on Sunday? Or just wants to come hang out and eat? (Jacquie. December 13, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  Food Not Bombs Vancouver served food on a weekly basis to people in the lowest economic area of Canada, Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. From August 2014 to Summer 2015 Food Not Bombs Vancouver served food every Sunday at the corner of Main and Hastings, known ominously as “pain and wastings”—both an amateur film and a fictional book use this moniker. Here, Food Not Bombs Vancouver partnered with the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, an eclectic community space with a half pipe, skating for mindfulness meditation, and, in the evenings, sound equipment and a floor for punk and rock shows. The Smiling Buddha Cabaret supported Food Not Bombs Vancouver by storing their table, signs, canopy, and coffee maker as well as occasionally donating leftover meals and produce to the 136		Food Not Bombs Vancouver table. In addition, the two owners watched out for the safety of the Food Not Bombs Vancouver volunteers. Every week, Food Not Bombs participants recover, cook, and serve food to 50 to 200 people. Unlike my experiences with other Food Not Bombs chapters such as Santa Ana or Philadelphia, I have not served families or children in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret. This area is infamously home to those who come to inject drugs, find shelter, and sell wares or their own bodies—and also hipsters. Even before the table was set up and the signs hung awkwardly on the metal bars that frame the door to the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, people asked what we have and if they might take a banana while we set up. Armed with food, not bombs, Food Not Bombs Vancouver began their distribution of vegan and vegetarian meals in Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside. The group’s decision to serve in this space demonstrates their commitment to alleviating hunger because they chose this space for its proximity to hunger rather than its potential provocative allure. Each Food Not Bombs chapter often has a weekly food distribution where they are counted on by local people to be in a particular place at a particular time. For the ideal chapter, these distributions are in public spaces that are also symbolically important (Heynen 2010). I have found that assumptions about visibility underscore this ideal. In the context of Food Not Bombs strategy for finding a place for food distributions, visibility implies an audience of non-hungry people and state representatives such as police. For example, the iconic San Francisco Food Not Bombs chapter has served over the years at a public park. Here, volunteers not only serve food to alleviate hunger but do so in a visible public space. This chapter is visible to the city government, police, media, tourists, and other passers-by as evidenced by city ordinances against food distribution. The City of San Francisco—and many more throughout the U.S. 137		(Parson 2010; Stoops 2014; Mitchell and Heynen 2009)—legislated against food distributions. The outcomes are police ticketing or arresting those defying ordinances, media reporting on the conflict, and passers-by presumably seeing 1) bodies gathered to receive food—which demonstrates the prevalence of hunger—and 2) any arrests that occur.  However, chapters are not always so “visible.” Philadelphia’s two chapters provide a comparative case study. In West Philadelphia, Food Not Bombs served both hot meals and raw produce at a local park. Residents would line up before the Food Not Bombs cars and bikes had even arrived, many with their own bags for “shopping.” North Philadelphia Food Not Bombs served in a public park in front of the courthouse. West Philadelphia Food Not Bombs was never hassled by police whereas North Philadelphia Food Not Bombs was regularly confronted. Both chapters served food in public parks and therefore both violated city ordinances. Why was only North Philadelphia punished? The question of to whom is this group visible helps to differentiate these chapters. In West Philadelphia, the local park in which the Food Not Bombs served was embedded in a nondescript neighborhood. In North Philadelphia, the local park in which they served was situated in the middle of downtown and in front of a courthouse. While both spaces are public and visible, the park in West Philadelphia was visible almost exclusively to local residents—who, incidentally, were also the ones who participated in the food distribution. In North Philadelphia, the park was visible not only to those they served but also to tourists and businessmen and women. In order to be provocative to authorities and to passers-by, Food Not Bombs strategically serves in places that are visible to tourists and residents who do not need free food. In order to get food to people in need, Food Not Bombs strategically serves in places where people that need food live. Therefore, chapters like West Philadelphia are ‘invisible’ in the sense that they do not 138		provoke authorities but, rather, intentionally meet the needs of people in their local neighborhood. In Vancouver, I have worked with a somewhat unique case: a largely invisible chapter set in a highly visible space.  While Food Not Bombs is by no means secretive, even presenting itself as publicly visible and ‘militant’ (i.e. confrontational with, for example, police), in my experience, it might actually be more ‘invisible’ than ‘visible.’ There is no chapter with which I have worked that has had FBI infiltration or arrests. I have only witnessed the mildest of ‘threats’ (e.g. the question of “how long will you be staying here?” was posed to us serving at Oppenheimer Park during the tent occupation). This is not to say that there has not been or does not continue to be threats against Food Not Bombs particularly in the form of citations and even sometimes arrests (see McHenry 2012; Mitchell and Heynen 2009; Parson 2010). Instead, I suggest that these cases are the exception. With hundreds of chapters serving food on more or less a weekly basis worldwide, the norm for Food Not Bombs is to serve food in places that may be less ‘visible’ (i.e. confrontational) than the representations assert.  With our fingertips infused with garlic, fingernails rusty from processing all of those potatoes, and legs burned from pulling a pan out of the oven, we made our way to Main and Hastings. As mentioned previously, this infamous corner is where poverty is concentrated and visible in the city of Vancouver. Those who spend any length of time at or frequently visit this intersection come to find housing, a place to inject methadone, or a hot meal. This intersection is well known to the City of Vancouver, police, paramedics, aid workers, researchers, and even tourists who come for dark tourism. In 2014 City of Vancouver put forth an extensive Downtown Eastside Plan; the goal of which is to “improve the lives of low-income DTES residents and community members” through neighborhood revitalization 139		while maintaining affordable housing, social services, cultural heritage, and public spaces (City of Vancouver. “Downtown Eastside Plan.” Accessed April 16, 2016. http://vancouver.ca/home-property-development/dtes-local-area-plan.aspx; “City of Vancouver Downtown Eastside Plan Report.” Accessed April 16, 2016. http://vancouver.ca/files/cov/downtown-eastside-plan.pdf). As for its visibility to police, every Sunday we would witness police officers—usually in pairs—strolling past our table. In terms of health services, ambulances regularly visited the area—we were always cognizant of where we parked because there was often an ambulance needing to park in front of Insite.  Setting up our table, we would encounter a number of charitable groups: not only those who occupied space in this area such as the Union Gospel Mission but even groups of people like a few women who drove an hour in from Cloverdale once a month to offer some clothes and sandwiches—there were also the “burrito people” and the “boxed lunch people” almost certainly among many others we never met. The drug using and homeless populations in this area are the subjects of much study: one of the men who came to the table on two occasions for both food and company—he had helped with Food Not Bombs Vancouver when he was a teenager in the 1990s—was a guest speaker at various classes at the University of British Columbia but still lived in a single room occupancy hotel, creating art for wealthy patrons out of dumpstered goods. As a unique experiment in safe injection, Insite and its patrons have been the focus of study and media attention. As the poorest neighborhood in Canada, the homeless in the Downtown Eastside have been the subjects of academic literature as well as captured the attention of organizations seeking to alleviate hunger, homelessness, and poverty—as well as the drug use and sex work that sometimes follow in the wake of isolation, desperation, and despair (see Robertson and Culhane 2005).  140		One of the Food Not Bombs volunteers had herself experienced some of this life: as a teenager she took herself away from her foster parents. Self-medicating for her personality disorder, she used a number of drugs and engaged in sex work as a strategy to make ends meet. Having had people help her during this time motivated her to “give back” through offering food to people finding themselves in similar circumstances. When we went out to Main and Hastings, she was easygoing and compassionate in such a way as to acknowledge people's humanity rather than see them as charity cases. In her words,  Keith, co founder straight up says this ain't no soup kitchen, it’s about creating community, which we are doing. The people who thank us as for what we're doing is really payment enough. I've met more amazing people through this project than i have in my life. I value the friendships and personal connection to the people who tell me their stories with humility and gratitude… We are here for those who can't afford basic luxuries such as say, something to eat or maybe a warm pair of socks. (Jacquie. October 25, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  This is the highly visible yet completely invisible place we decided to venture into in order to “warm some bellies.” Each Sunday we parked in front of the smiling Buddha and folk garden. We quickly grabbed the pots, restaurant-style pans, plastic-wrapped bags of bread, and boxes lined with foil to keep in the heat and oil. We set these items on the sidewalk—as usual, avoiding the used needles and liquid that was either rainwater or urine. A volunteer would get the heavy plastic fold up table from the Smiling Buddha Cabaret basement while another volunteer, usually Jacquie, would get the bananas out while people began to line up. One of us would grab the banners, tying one up on the folk garden’s chain link fence while another would make sure to grab our giant reusable bag within which plastic ware, paper plates, Styrofoam bowls, Dixie cups, and plastic restaurant-style gloves floated around loosely. Once the table was stable, we hoisted up the first round of soup, roasted veggies, apple crumble, bread, and 141		raw fruits. Under the table was hidden the second and third pots and pans to be taken out as the first were emptied. Sarah: Why did you decide to start serving at the SBC [Smiling Buddha Cabaret]? Jacquie: Oh, because the SBC let us! I remember, I saw these two riff raff punky-looking dudes outside and I needed a smoke and they were smoking so I asked if I could have a smoke. And we started chatting—and I don’t remember how Food Not Bombs came up in the conversation but at that time we were actually looking for somewhere to serve. And I think we were at the time…a little more concerned that the police were gonna kick us out because we were serving somewhere that we weren’t supposed to be in a public space. And the boys at the SBC said, well, you could use our space because that way it was their property so the police couldn’t kick us off. So we were there at a place that we were welcome. So that’s how it worked out. And the location made a lot of sense because it was right near the corner of main and hastings. And Malcolm and Andrew were just awesome so it kinda worked out really well. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015)  When Jacquie and Jane started up Food Not Bombs again, they thought that the center of the Downtown Eastside, Main and Hastings, was the obvious location in order to serve the people most in need of food. In Vancouver, there were over 1,700 individuals identified as homeless (Thompson, Matt. “Vancouver Homeless Count.” Accessed February 13, 2016. http://vancouver.ca/files/cov/vancouver-homeless-count-2015.pdf). This was the primary population served by Food Not Bombs Vancouver volunteers in 2014-2015 though some people, living in apartments in Chinatown, also took food particularly on days when raw produce was distributed. On a weekly basis, between fifty and one hundred people were either served cooked meals or given raw produce in the heart of the Downtown Eastside. All kinds of people came to the table: many white or First Nation, some Asian, of all ages and genders, some with wheelchairs, and many worn by drugs and street life. When Alana asked us whom we served, Jacquie said mostly people in SROs [single room occupancy hotels] or on the streets. We never asked people to line up, it simply happened and the times when it did not an altercation would inevitably arise—we cautioned new volunteers 142		to pay attention to who had arrived at the table first and to gently but firmly let people who ‘cut’ know that we would help them in a moment. People either wordlessly or voicing their appreciation accepted the food we brought, letting us know what dishes they would like on their plate. Sometimes people demanded a plate and sometimes people told us how much people in that area needed “protein” (i.e. animal meat). Handing out artisan bread, we quickly learned there was a preference for the focaccia bread. After observing and talking with people, we found that, like the preference for bananas, focaccia bread was preferred because it was soft: many of the people we served had sensitive or were lacking teeth. This was certainly expected in part because of our proximity to Insite—though, frankly, there were plenty of ‘unsafe’ injections happening on the sidewalk. We also found that our cooked dishes of roasted vegetables, especially the yellow potatoes, were particularly well received. On more than one occasion, we heard comments about how our food gave people a break from “bologna sandwiches on white bread.” The implication was that our food met nutritional needs and perhaps provided people with some variety in their diet. This was the primary focus of Food Not Bombs Vancouver: to serve food to people who are hungry. Where and to whom they choose to serve reflects an emphasis on meeting needs rather than making a political statement. In this highly visible place, Food Not Bombs is invisible, with none of the provocative potential that North Philadelphia or San Francisco have. Why is this? It is a testament to an acceptance of pervasive hunger and homelessness. As long as these ‘eyesores’ are kept contained and controlled in designated areas, they are acceptable (see Mitchell 2003). At certain times of day and in certain designated areas, homeless people have a right to these public spaces—for now. At least a right to these spaces until the city 143		gentrifies this area. In fact, this move has already begun: an advertisement invited students, artists, and hipsters to move into a single room occupancy apartment for $600.00 per month (Giovannetti, Justin. 2014. “Unit vacancies anger city, advocates as homelessness increases in Vancouver.” The Globe and Mail, May 18. Accessed April 19, 2016. http://theglobeandmail.com/news/british-columbia/unit-vacancies-anger-city-advocates-as-homelessness-increases-in-vancouver/article18741276/). These single room occupancy hotels are one of the few low income housing options available and, even then, known as cockroach infested closet-like spaces that are increasingly costing far more than a social assistance check. This acceptance of people’s lack of food and shelter is the motivation for Food Not Bombs to distribute food in ‘visible’ spaces.  Food Not Bombs gathers hungry people in visible space so that onlookers, presumably with money and status, will be appalled that so many are hungry while we spend money on war. Food Not Bombs gathers hungry people in public space without a permit to contest the injustice of laws that criminalize people for being hungry and to expose the fact that public space is really only open to some publics (see Heynen 2010, Lefebvre 2003, Low 2000, Spataro 2015). However, these goals go largely unrealized as cities, police, residents, and tourists become callous to suffering and accept such inequality as inevitable and even deserved (see Katz 1993 on history of the discourse of “undeserving” poor). Food Not Bombs Vancouver’s distribution in this ‘invisible’ space demonstrates their commitment to alleviating suffering, to “just wanna warm some bellies.”  While there are certainly other informal groups such as the five women that stand on the street corner handing out boxes of sandwiches and brownies to commemorate a brother one of them lost, these groups do so in places where it is needed and socially and legally 144		acceptable to do so. Their act of serving food in public spaces is not strategic in the same way as Food Not Bombs. Spataro (2015) writes that unlike other organizations, direct action groups tend to be more unsanctioned. This political strategy involves direct confrontation of laws that are seen as unjust (e.g. criminalization of food sharing) and the provocative use of public space (e.g. inviting unwanted, ‘disorderly’ publics into public space by sharing food with them). While other groups share food in public, they do so with an eye toward minimal confrontation. In contrast, Food Not Bombs does so in such a way as to confront and provoke. While visibility is an aspect of this strategy, it is not essential to the direct action project. Rather, a focus on visibility belies the “politics of the act” (Day 2004) that characterize the heart of Food Not Bombs as a direct action protest. Visibility implies an audience. An audience implies an appeal. An appeal implies a “politics of demand” (Day 2004). While there are objects of protest that are intended to be seen by particular subjects, I argue that this is a secondary strategy to the Food Not Bombs protest. In other words, while strategically an audience is useful for a protest to make an appeal, it is unnecessary from the perspective of a politics of the act. Like the Situationists, the value of an act is in its immediate reclamation of life: in this case, a right to food in the city. While not in direct conflict with authorities, the use of public space (i.e. sidewalk) by this soon-to-be-unwelcome public is a direct action—or a politics of the act.  Here on the sidewalk, food is realized as a protest object. Journeying from its life as a failed commodity to a donation to food in an anarchist kitchen to protest food in the street. Unlike the table, pots, spoons, and banners, the food is meant to be consumed. As noted previously, the city officials, police, tourists, and sympathetic observers were simply not there—or, more likely, did not care to notice. This invisibility did not mean the Food Not 145		Bombs Vancouver protest was a failure. Like a Reclaim the Streets event or one of Graeber’s (2009) “carnivals against capitalism,” the goal of the protest is ultimately realized in the protest itself. In fact, the food itself is the means and ends of the protest. As Day (2004) has implied, a “politics of demand” necessitates an audience to whom an appeal is made. This appeal follows a hegemonic order where those presumed to hold power are either asked to adjust or abdicate their position so as to accommodate a new hegemonic system. In a “politics of the act,” protesters ignore hegemony, proceeding as if it did not exist (Day 2004).  Visibility is strategic primarily in a politics of demand. For example, one of the differences between direct action and civil disobedience is that direct actions prefigure alternatives while civil disobedience, especially non-violent civil disobedience, appeals to sympathies of observers. Henry David Thoreau (1849) famously wrote that non-violent civil disobedience operates on the presumption that all citizens are morally responsible for the work of their government. In this definition, civil disobedience is a call to action by outside parties. In contrast, direct action involves the construction of alternatives. Graeber (2009, 203) says, “The direct actionist does not just refuse to pay taxes to support a militarized school system, she combines with others to try to create a new school system that operates on different principles.” Despite their invisibility to those whom an appeal might be made (e.g. publics with political clout, authorities, sympathetic publics), Food Not Bombs Vancouver protests. They protest by creating alternative systems alongside—and sometimes to detach—hierarchical systems (e.g. capitalist, patriarchy, and associated ethic, racial, and class divisions) within the city. Their goal of “food, not bombs,” is realized in the making of their protest object.  146		At the Food Not Bombs table there is not only socializing to be done but food to be consumed. The food participates in making the protest. In fact, it is the central object and subject. From the “blotchy pick box” to the street, this food encompasses direct actions, embodies anarchist ethics, and reflects punk values. Its ‘rottenness’—or, recovery from the discard pile in a wasteful capitalist economy—its non-violent vegan and vegetarian qualities, its production in an anarchist kitchen, and its free sharing in public are all realized in its consumption. In its consumption, these attributes come together to make the food a direct action protest object. It needs no audience to be realized as such. It simply needs to be consumed. Here in this public sidewalk with food sharing becomes not just an act of charity, but an act of autonomy wherein the alienating qualities of capitalist food—purchased, fetishized commodities that are even more alienating due to their extensive processing and packaged—are sidestepped. Their style of food acquisition, preparation, and distribution imbue the food with revolutionary flavor, making it into this direct action protest object. 3.2.4 Revolutionary flavors Moments of possibility, of rupture… Emerging without leaders or guidance from institutional structures, they open windows to the possibility that everything could change at once and the world be made new. (Graeber and Shukaitis 2007, 37)  Recovered (free), recycled (imbued with anarchist values), vegetarian (non-violent) cuisine was handed out for free (sharing) in an increasingly gentrified area of Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside (‘public’ space). First, Food Not Bombs volunteers acquired produce and bread for free and without a non-profit status. In doing so, they recognized the wastefulness of capitalist food markets: (a lot of) food that is perfectly edible goes to waste (see also Bloom 2011). The food itself is non-violent: it is procured for free—thereby avoiding the violence of capitalist markets—and vegan or vegetarian—thereby avoiding 147		injury to animals. They rescue this food from its untimely demise, preparing it to be a protest object. In the kitchen this food is imbued with anarchist values: non-hierarchical organization, egalitarianism, and punk DIY ethic. Finally, the food is consumed in putatively public space. This protest is realized in consumption where its visibility is unnecessary insofar as this protest is ultimately a practice in a politics of the act. Anti-capitalist food. Food Not Bombs protest food is anti-capitalist food insofar as it is free and ‘rotten.’ Excessive mold, slime, and bruising seemed to be the usual culprits that dissuaded us from serving a particular bit of food—this is not the slight bruising or marking that deters most consumers (Yue, et al. 2009). In the moment of processing food by looking over, washing, and chopping, edibility was perceived as not ideological but practical. Volunteers asked themselves and each other how much of the bruise should be removed, how much sliminess could be tolerated in a cooked dish, how much slime might be tolerated in a raw dish, and if that mold penetrates the entire item. While the immediacy of assessing fitness to eat consumed our thoughts in the moment of food preparation, edibility in this context is also ethical and political. Volunteers prided themselves on eating the discards of the ‘mainstream.’ While commonsense to volunteers with Food Not Bombs, researchers have also noted this preference for rottenness. Working with a punk café, Clark (2004, 28) observed, “eating garbage (food deemed rotten) is a forceful condemnation of societal injustices. On an ecologically strained planet home to two billion hungry people, punks see their reclamation of rotten food as a profoundly radical act.” Eating ‘rotten’—discarded or wasted—food that was obtained for free achieves practical and ethical goals. Practically, a preference for ‘rotten’ food leads to a rescue operation wherein food that would otherwise have headed to its social death in a landfill or composting station is instead provided to 148		people in need. Rescuing this wasted food also fulfills an ethical goal: rescuing ‘rotten’ food is an act of resistance against capitalist food systems.  Our actions subvert structural violence in our society. Each meal we cook costs only our time and effort. Through this, we highlight the destructive wastefulness of our society, the corollary issues of unjust social systems, and the ethical consumption of vegetarian and vegan food. (Food Not Bombs Vancouver. 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  In the kitchen volunteers recycle this otherwise wasted food, transforming it from a useless item into a useful item imbued with new values: non-violent, non-hierarchical, anarchic protest food.  Non-violent food. The chosen food is free, vegan, and vegetarian. This food not only avoids harming animals, it avoids violent food systems. Capitalist food systems are seen as inherently violent insofar as they disadvantage some while privileging others. Since Food Not Bombs operates strategically in the moment of consumption, they literally display the violence of food systems in the bodies they gather in public spaces. After reaching the age of majority, it is assumed that through hard work people will be able to acquire food. However, this is predicated upon availability of affordable, accessible food as well as a place to process this food. In many areas, food is neither affordable nor accessible. Food deserts appear throughout cities in North America while affordability of food is predicated upon capitalist markets rather than consumer’s ability to pay for food. Like quality health care, nutritious food is a necessity but this need is not always met. The UN Special Rapporteur on the Right to Food (2011, 6) found, “It is unacceptable, in a country as prosperous as Canada, that an estimated two and half million people are food insecure.” Second, food is used as a biopolitical tool to control populations (see Heynen 2010). In Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside, food services are gathered around the intersection of Main and Hastings. Like laws 149		that criminalize the distribution of food in public spaces, the intent of the spatial position of these services is to relegate unwanted publics (e.g. homeless) to certain spaces—strategically out of the view of business developers and tourists. Non-hierarchical food. Race, gender, class, ethnicity, age. Volunteer attend to and attempt to mitigate these common axes of oppression in the Food Not Bombs kitchen. As volunteers gathered in a common kitchen, they were all welcomed as equals. While the kitchen was part of Jacquie and Jane’s rented apartment—and, later, Michael’s apartment—it was open to anyone. We all came into the kitchen ready to open cupboards, grab cutting boards, turn on the stove, and wash some dishes without anyone to give us permission or direction. The conversation in the food preparation area—which, incidentally, was often not in the kitchen but the floor of the living room—was often an attempt to understand issues of inequality. For example, the disproportionate police violence toward African Americans was part of the conversation about Ferguson. When Jacquie and Jane were assaulted for their sexual orientations, all of the volunteers supported them during the court case that ensued. When the Valentine’s Day march to draw attention to the missing and murdered women in the Downtown Eastside arrived, we underscored the silence, inaction, and violence perpetrated against not just women but disproportionately indigenous women. These lines of oppression were confronted in the food itself. In North America, meat is associated with maleness so its opposite, vegetarian food, is largely associated with femininity and even feminist practice (Clark 2004, 23). It just this kind of food that Food Not Bombs has chosen to make a powerful political statement. Furthermore, this food was served for free thus undermining hierarchies that make food available for some but not others. As Wacquant (2008) has noted, these hierarchies (i.e. inequalities) are based on histories of race, class, and 150		even spatial distribution. And the food itself was accessible: anyone from any cultural or religious background or with most any dietary restrictions can still eat vegan foods. By serving food for free to all without restrictions (e.g. no drug use) or requirements (e.g. listening to a sermon), Food Not Bombs undermines the practice of privileging some—richer, male, religious, ‘deserving’ poor—above others. At the same time, class and privilege were sometimes reinforced with the food served. This vegetarian food was not always appreciated: when on the sidewalk in front of the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, sometimes people would rebuke us for our refusal to serve meat. People would say that the people in this area (DTES) need protein. Sometimes, Jane or Jacquie would end up in a discussion about vegan and vegetarianism. When this happened, Jane and Jacquie thought this frustration came from associating veganism with privilege. So while this food attempted to be anti-capitalist, non-violent, and non-hierarchical, it sometimes fell short of its utopian ideal. In their weekly food acquisition, preparation, and distribution, Food Not Bombs Vancouver volunteers use food as a direct action protest. The strategies of rescuing wasted food, processing that food in an anarchist kitchen, and distributing that food for free in public make their food their site and symbol of protest. The work of Food Not Bombs in dumpsters, picking up donations, in front of a hot stove, and serving food in the rain at the corner or Main and Hastings, reinforces for those already participating and perhaps lets others know as well that, as Graeber and Shukaitis (2007, 37) say, “everything could change at once and the world be made new.”  While weekly food distributions exemplify Food Not Bombs commitment to easing moments of suffering in everyday life, protest actions illuminate the systemic injustices 151		opposed by Food Not Bombs and demonstrate Food Not Bombs understanding of their interconnectedness. In these activist moments, Food Not Bombs chapters join with other groups to address issues such as poverty and homelessness, environmental degradation and climate change, and racialized and gendered violence. 3.3 Protest Actions Don't get it twisted that Food Not Bombs is just some sweet little group that provides food for events and feeds people once a week. We are interested in smashing the state—a state that sees food as a commodity, in terms of salable, over-priced "units"—not as a source of nourishment for hungry people. Sourcing and giving away free food is a revolutionary, anti-capitalistic act.... and Food Justice ties in with Racial Justice and ties in with Earth Justice and ties in with Class Warfare...Food insecurity is yet another means of terrorism and violence that the system perpetrates. Food is a Human Right, not a privilege to be earned, and free food is yet another building block of the Revolution! (Cindy Lu. 2015. Food Not Bombs West Philly Facebook page)  The project of Food Not Bombs is one of creative, constructive direct action. The name Food Not Bombs itself testifies to that which is being rejected (“bombs”) and that which is asserted instead (“food”). Like one of the core volunteers with Food Not Bombs West Philadelphia, Cindy Lu, notes, “food” refers to free food, just food, and a right to food rather than commodified food which is seen as oppressive, controlling, and a privilege for a few. In fact, Food Not Bombs is ultimately a critique of capitalism that sees the aforementioned issues as tied to inequality, violence, and inauthenticity that capitalist systems perpetuate. While Food Not Bombs maintains its original more literal message (i.e. “food, not bombs”), it is today often focused on the use of government resources and legislation—whether it is corporate subsidies, deregulations, or cost externalization—to protect (multi- and transnational) corporate interests at the expense of people.  Protest actions are a particularly useful case study to help understand Food Not Bombs values that reach beyond food systems. Within the context of protest actions, “food” 152		and “not bombs” extend beyond their more literal meanings. “Food” is used in a metonymic sense to stand for basic rights such as shelter and access to land. “Bombs” is not only literal, it is a metonym for other forms of violence such as corporate capitalism—especially when corporate interests are protected by police. Therefore, to assert “food” rather than “bombs” is to undermine capitalist mechanisms of oppression such as private property while, at the same time, sharing a free gift instead. In its symbolic and metonymic senses, “food not bombs” expands to encompass a range of issues that extend out of the same critique of food systems and state militarization: Food Not Bombs protests against systems that perpetuate inequality, violence, and alienation in favor of egalitarianism, community, and mutual aid. Joining social movements, Food Not Bombs is a social movement (dis)organization that situates itself at the nexus of homelessness, hunger, poverty, war, environmental degradation, and corporate globalization. Emerging out of the non-violent direct action movements in the 1970s United States, it is based part of an anti-authoritarian left that includes global justice movements, the alter-globalization movement, indigenous mobilizations, food justice, anti-poverty, and environmentalist concerns. As they merge with social movement organizations and (dis)organizations, they provide infrastructure for activist networking, mobilization, and meeting a practical need for food—especially non-violent protest food. While joining with other movement organizations and (dis)organizations, they maintain their distinctive Food Not Bombs style as a direct action project advocating for and, simultaneously, claiming a right to food (and other basics to life) and not bombs (or any form of violence).  In this chapter I look at the three protests that Food Not Bombs Vancouver supported during the time I was involved as a volunteer-researcher: August 2014 to September 2015. 153		These protests demonstrate the range of issues that ‘food, not bombs’ can be expanded to encompass. My goal is to highlight the underlying anarchist values that motivate participation in these events and ethnographically demonstrate the use of food-as-direct action protest in these larger activist mobilizations. During my research, Food Not Bombs Vancouver participated in three major protest actions: Oppenheimer Park, Burnaby Mountain, and #ShutDownCanada. During these protests, Food Not Bombs played a supportive role. While they were not the organizers, they were a critical part of the activist infrastructure that they helped build and support.  ‘Food, not bombs’ in protest actions in Vancouver: Throughout the years, the word ‘bombs’ in “Food Not Bombs” has been intended both literally and as a metonym for forms of structural violence. In the context of protest actions, ‘bombs’ can refer to either depending on the purpose of the protest. For example, at Burnaby Mountain, ‘bombs’ referred more to the government’s (‘mis’)allocation of resources to support resource extraction projects rather than protect people’s right to the land. Like ‘bombs,’ ‘food’ is used both literally and as a metonym for essential needs or rights that have been neglected or taken. For example, in the context of Oppenheimer Park occupation, ‘food’ was used literally as food—we served food at the site—and to draw attention to basic needs that were not being met such as food and shelter. Looking at the role of Food Not Bombs in each action, I explore how Day’s (2005) observation of a “logic of affinity” runs through these actions. Specifically, I discuss Food Not Bomb’s contribution to the circulation of counterdiscourses, their commitment to solidarity, and their role in provisioning of protesters with sustenance. 3.3.1 Oppenheimer Park, homelessness, and counterdiscourses hello beautiful people of FNB and their admirers! so the plan is: we will be serving THIS SUNDAY once again outside the Smiling Buddha Cabaret at 109 East 154		Hastings, between Main and Columbia. if the weather sucks the fine folks of SBC [Smiling Buddha Cabaret] say it's cool if we serve inside, so this will be going down rain or shine. we'll be cooking Friday and/or Saturday night, so if you can score some eats, pick up donations, or help make food with us, give me or Jacquie a shout. last time we served here there was a HUGE response from the community so we will be trying to up the ante with LOTS of delicious vegan and vegetarian goodies. as usual, some of what we score will be going to support the folks at Oppenheimer park. hope to see all you awesome people this weekend!!! (Jane. September 19, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  Woop! Happy Sunday! We'll be at Oppenheimer today serving up butt loads of soup, hash browns, fresh fruit and veggie, lots of artisan bread and oh ya... 2 boxes worth of apple crisp... Come on down! Bring a plate and say hi! See how you can get involved! (Jacquie. September 28, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  The apple crisp. When Jacquie said that we had two boxes, she meant two boxes of donated apples that had been magically transformed—by ‘magical’ I mean Jacquie, Shayna, and Jane had had the oven on since 9:00am—into three pans of apple crisp and a tray with row upon row of apple slices and there were still more apples. The crumble went fast. The sliced tomatoes, sautéed eggplants, and bags of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches took longer to pass out—we ended up leaving a bag of artisan bread on the picnic table outside of the camp kitchen. Last week, a woman from the camp asked Jacquie if Food Not Bombs could cook for the volunteers who normally cook food at the tent occupation at Oppenheimer Park. And so, without much of a plan, Jacquie, Shayna, potatoes, eggplants, apples, cantaloupes, grape tomatoes, sliced tomatoes, bread, and I headed out to Oppenheimer Park.  Upon arrival we saw a seemingly impenetrable sea of tents. While we had planned to give the volunteers at Oppenheimer a break from cooking, we ended up accidentally joining a group of “Burners.” Seeing a table set out with no food on it but stocked with a dark green hot drink container on one side and a portable grill on the other, we assumed it was set out for us. Jacquie asked if we could put food on the table. The people near the table welcomed 155		us, asking if they could help. We found out that this was the Burners26 Without Borders table, a group who was cooking grilled cheese sandwiches and soup once month in the Downtown Eastside to celebrate “Christmas Isn’t Over.” One woman explained their goal, offering me a me a “flier”—or, rather a print out of their Facebook event page: We are a group of compassionate independents made up of Burners and non-Burners who organize and gather to be of service in our community. The Lower East Side is a diverse community transitioning at this time, which makes it ideal and in need of loving kindness. Our first operation was a huge success and was met with warmth and gratitude. It has inspired us to make this event a continuing commitment to ourselves and our community. To participate is truly a joy and a pleasure. We collect clothes, shoes, household items, gently used or new toiletries, anything that could help to improve another human's quality of life, then distribute it to those in need. It is a great opportunity to purge and minimize a lot of the 'stuff' we collect, that ultimately we do not need or use. There is freedom and grace that comes with minimalism, and this is just another added bonus, knowing this 'stuff' is going somewhere where it is needed. * Blankets, socks, undies, jackets, extra large sweaters all seem to be quite popular ;). We also cook stews, soups, make sandwiches, baked goods, or bring extra provisions to share in the community. We bring small cooking stoves to keep everything warm and then we spend the afternoon serving and helping people find what they need from our collection. We would be delighted for you to join us in our heart mission of "Christmas Isn't Over", as that depth of love and joy resides in our hearts the whole year through… Everyone welcome!! (Christmas Isn’t Over Facebook page, Accessed September 29, 2014)  I was introduced to the five Burners at the table who told me about the beauty of gifting. They had arrived at 1:00pm and begun to prepare their soup and sandwiches as well as put out a blanket on the lawn with clothes on it. By the time we arrived, they had run out of food and were excited that we replenished the table.  																																																								26 “Burners” refers to participants at Burning Man events. Burners Without Borders formed after a number of burners went to help people rebuild after Hurricane Katrina (Burners Without Borders. Accessed September 29, 2014. http://www.burnerswithoutborders.org/mission). 156		 Figure 23 Burners and ‘Bombers,’ September 28, 2014. Photo courtesy of Andre. (Andre posted this on the Christmas Isn’t Over Facebook event page with the caption “More food just showed up via "food not bombs"!)  We set food out on the table, starting with the bowl of tomatoes, cut cantaloupe, and slices of apples. Then came the sweet breads—scones, cinnamon buns—that Jacquie had cut as well as the potatoes and apple crisp. We began to put together eggplant tomato sandwiches next to the pot of potato leek soup and bread sticks that Jacquie said were a little “cheesy”—a warning that they were likely not vegan. Finally, there was a paper bag that we folded down to reveal the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We asked people if they would like each item as they approached the table. There was a small, steady flow of people the entire time, sometimes resulting in a line. Jacquie was pulled aside to network and organize: first by a woman with Burners Without Borders to discuss serving together in the future and another time by a man who was helping organize the tent occupation.  The man that was speaking with Jacquie invited her to join him in the makeshift kitchen that was sustaining the occupation. Jacquie requested that I come with her to view the kitchen, asking Shayna, “can you hold down the table for a while?” She said yes and I was whisked away, following this man and Jacquie. He muttered something about how he should not be helping because he was a journalist and was supposed to maintain some kind of objectivity but he was going to help the occupation nonetheless. He led us through the center 157		of the tent city into a large tent. This large tent was actually comprised of two tents—the kind of tents I am accustomed to seeing at track meets: tall, square, held up by four vertical poles, and having protective fabric only on the top. These two tents were joined together with rope and covered on all sides with thick blue tarps that went all the way from the top of the tent to the dirt and grass. The journalist introduced us to Ricky, the cook for the tent city, saying that Ricky had been making all of the meals for the occupation on one stove. We exchanged requests. Ricky asked us what we needed; Jacquie said pots would be great but we would take anything but meat—adding that this was really our only rule. We asked what they needed from us; there was not much of a reply. In a frenzy as he moved around the tent looking in boxes and moving boxes around, Ricky quickly looked toward an 8.5x11 paper taped to the upper side of one of the tent walls. It was a notice from the fire department instructing them to close the kitchen due to “fire hazard.” Ricky said he was busy packing up because they had to close the kitchen that day. He could not say where they were going because he did not want to alert the city to their new location—later that day, police prevented a group of people from setting up a kitchen in Stanley Park. Apparently finding what he was looking for, Ricky gave us a shallow cardboard box full of plastic boxes, each of which contained assorted peppers. He also gave us a cardboard box stacked with clear plastic “to go” containers. Jacquie and I were very excited about these containers: we could even pack things up to hand out!  We all headed out of the tent, us and the journalist walking back to the Food Not Bombs/Burners Without Borders table and Ricky taking boxes into a yellow/gold/brown and white striped camper that was parked on the street: the temporary mobile kitchen. At this point, we figured out that were actually being asked to take over the cooking. Jacquie and I 158		said we would definitely be at Oppenheimer on Sundays but that was all we could do with our current volunteers. He was disappointed, saying there would be no kitchen to feed people. He raved about how much Ricky had done by himself. He then asked if we any other contacts that might be willing to cook daily. I told him I did not really have any contacts but Jacquie might. He turned to talk to her.  Back at the table, we met several people coming and going from the tent occupation. One man told us that had been arrested multiple times at protests. Two women came at different times came to get food for their elders. Police came by and made sure to ask us when we were leaving—I said “soon.”  After being at the park for a few hours, one of the “burners” said they should head out soon. Since the interest in our food had diminished, we started to pack up as well. Remembering the picnic table in the center of the tent city, we grabbed a bag of rolls, leftover peanut butter jelly sandwiches, the last three cups of soup—each topped with a slice of focaccia bread, and the box of tomatoes and took them over to the worn, brownish-gray wood picnic table. We added our leftovers to the beautiful, perfectly ripe pears and grapes that were already on the table, waved goodbye to Ricky, and took our leave. On our way back to Jacquie and Jane’s we had a conversation about McDonalds. Jacquie said she had fries there and immediately was plagued by diarrhea. McDonalds=“safe.” Tent kitchen= “health hazard.” A week later, with the kitchen gone and increasing pressure from the city, the court injunction to vacate the park was approved. “Anybody planning to go down to support the folks of oppenheimer when the bulls barrel through the china shop? Maybe we should bake brownies for everyone to cheer them up” (Jane. October 9, 2014. Food Not Bombs 159		Vancouver Facebook page.). While we never did make those brownies—the cops came earlier than expected, we were there in spirit. Jane went to Oppenheimer Park after her class to support the occupiers—and to try to get back the Food Not Bombs’ glass baking pans, cooler, and black roasting pan but this effort was unsuccessful. Most of the tent city had already left by the time the police arrived. With their GoPro cameras, they went through the park and asked people to leave: Police Chief Jim Chu said, “We think the body-worn video will prevent people from acting in a difficult or violent manner… We believe people will behave better when they know they're being recorded” (2014. “Oppenheimer Park homeless campers face eviction tonight.” CBC News, October 14. Accessed October 15, 2014. http://www.cbc.ca/m/news/canada/british-columbia/oppenheimer-park-homeless-campers-facing-eviction-tonight-1.2798911). While most people had already vacated or left peacefully, those few who did not comply were forcibly removed.27 For Jacquie and Jane, Food Not Bombs at Oppenheimer was a matter of showing solidarity, a shared concern for the lack of adequate affordable housing. In addition, it was about private property, public space, and the right to the city.  That was a big argument at Oppenheimer: it’s our space, it’s for everybody; we don’t have homes so we’re going to go somewhere. We’re just as fucking welcome and have a right to be on some part of the land as anyone. You can’t say you own the dirt but they do. … I guess that’s all part of the system that takes from people and isn’t willing to share. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015)  The target audience for the food distribution was primarily the occupants of the tent city, letting them know we support them by practically meeting one of their needs—Jane even proposed serving brownies to cheer them up while the police raided the camp. Secondarily, 																																																								27 Oppenheimer Park is not the first, and almost certainly not the last time, a lack of adequate housing was protested. Much to the dismay of the City of Vancouver, before the 2010 Olympics a tent village was erected (see Olympic Tent Village. Accessed April 24, 2016. https://olympictentvillage.wordpress.com/about/).  160		Food Not Bombs wanted to join in an occupation of public space in the face of authorities. Food, through serving, sharing, and eating, lays claim to a space on a concrete level. Certeau (1998) says that walking makes spaces. Vaneigem’s (2001) words made it onto the walls of Paris. But what of eating? Ironically, at Oppenheimer the City of Vancouver decided the kitchen was the health hazard. Clearly, the injunction to shut down the kitchen ignored the hazards posed by life on the streets where people are denied predictable access to water, toilets, food, shelter, clean clothes, or a shower. In the tent city there was a modicum of shelter and food.  Food Not Bombs underscores the lack of availability or access to basic necessities by using food as the center of their protest. But proposing ‘not bombs’ as a metonym for unequal distribution of resources, they draw attention to the cause of hunger: corporate greed and wars are favored at the expense of people’s health. In other words, ‘food,’ here, is about access to basic needs; ‘bombs’ here is about private interests (e.g. developers, tourists, and the city’s priorities that show a preference for these capitalist interests). For the 2010 Olympics that were held in Vancouver, the City of Vancouver displaced and marginalized the disproportionately aboriginal homeless population (Bourgeois 2009). While the Olympics are a particular case where neoliberal development is accelerated (Short 2008), current gentrification and development plans in the Downtown Eastside continue to discourage and displace many more people than they putatively house. There are certain things that it doesn’t make sense to me how some people can go in and say, “this is ours.” I mean, it’s only a matter of time before we see a Coca-Cola symbol on the moon. (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015)  Asserting “food, not bombs” at a public park occupation is a logical extension of their basic critique of capitalism. Private property, attributed to Proudhon (1994), is seen as theft. 161		Furthermore, private property is a mechanism of exclusion and only privileges a few. When public property is privatized—either through overt sale and development or by inviting only some publics—it becomes a tool to control populations. Homelessness seems to be the visible expression of this state of affairs. When cities evict campers in a public park or issue citations for serving food in public, they create a situation where not all people are welcome. Values such as shared access to land contradict privatization. When campers occupied Oppenheimer Park, they called into question the actual publicness of this space.  Fraser (1990, 59) argues that the idealized liberal public sphere involves the assembly of “private persons” to discuss “common concerns” with the goal of holding the state accountable to civil society. She states that this public sphere is intrinsically exclusionary. Historically, gendered and class-based conceptions of aristocracy, for example, made for “distinctions”—in Bourdieu’s (1984) sense—that marked off a white, male, elite. In light of these exclusions, counterpublics—such as philanthropic societies constituted by elite women or street parades of working-class women—emerged. There was never one public sphere but, rather, “a variety of ways of accessing public life and a multiplicity of political arenas” (Fraser 1990, 61). In fact, the bourgeoisie public sphere was not only an “unrealized utopian ideal”, but a “masculinist ideological” and hegemonic project (Fraser 1990, 62). Fraser (1990, 62-63, 67) asserts that this ‘ideal’ public sphere ignores the need for societal equity as a precondition for participatory politics, posits that the “common good” should override private interests, believes that democracy is predicated on a sharp divide between the state and civil society, and assumes that one public sphere is preferable—though it absorbs weaker publics into “we.” Fraser (1990, 67) moves to a basic definition of publicity and publics as the dissemination of “one’s discourse into ever widening arenas.” She describes subaltern 162		counterpublics as creating counterdiscourses to dominant narratives, (re)interpreting and (re)presenting themselves (Fraser 1990, 67). With respect to the Oppenheimer Park occupation, homeless, homeless advocates, activist sympathizers such as Food Not Bombs, and First Nations peoples emerged as visible counterpublics who ‘spoke’ through their actions.  The counterdiscourse circulated by occupants at the tent city included a practical occupation of putatively public space, creation of a small-scale social order within the camp, and submission of an eviction notice to the City of Vancouver. Through these mechanisms, they asserted a right to the city. Food Not Bombs Vancouver stepped in to support this occupation, contributing their own protest tactic. The physical occupation of public space was the first step in asserting a right to the city. This occupation was also an experiment in social organizing.  Many say they would hate to see the camp go because volunteers there have helped them and others. “Like when I go to work I need a lunch, they provided me with a lunch,” said camper Ricky Comeau who describes himself as working-homeless. “You know what I mean? They make sure my stuff is safe when I go to work. I love it!” Volunteers running a neighbourhood lunch program over the weekend say they're aware of the controversy, but are impressed with the camp. “They have some pretty good organization it seems,” said volunteer Wisam Abdulla. “Sometimes in front of the bottle depot we just kind of get raided, whereas here it was nice and orderly.” (2014. “Oppenheimer Park campers vow to stay as Vancouver seeks injunction City of Vancouver going to court today to get injunction to have protestors removed.” CBC News, September 29. Accessed September 29, 2014. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/oppenheimer-park-campers-vow-to-stay-as-vancouver-seeks-injunction-1.2780809)  Like the volunteer serving lunch over the weekend was able to observe the orderliness of the camp, our own experience serving gave us a view into the camp’s culture. A few First Nations women who came to the table took food to bring to their elders. They were helping those whom they respected and who needed a meal. This kindness extended into the kitchen. 163		The kitchen was full of donated items—part of this included an enormous amount of sockeye salmon—and the gift of time and effort on the part of those organizing donations, planning meals, and cooking. Our table merely supplemented this much more extensive enterprise. In fact, campers supported our decision to primarily serve food at the intersection of Main and Hastings—after serving at Oppenheimer on several occasions, Food Not Bombs Vancouver shifted to Main and Hastings because there was more need there (i.e. that is where we observed the most people coming to take food).  The use of public space, particularly when a longer-term social order is created, is a practical exercise in asserting a right to the city. Part of this physical counterdiscourse was the display of un-housed bodies. The people occupying this visible park did so to physically manifest the lack of adequate housing in the city. In addition, occupants of the tent city circulated a counterdiscourse that included critiques of the causes of homelessness: lack of affordable housing, poor conditions of existing low-income housing such as infested single room occupancy hotels, and the City of Vancouver’s relegation of ‘the homeless’ to hidden spaces. “Even though the camp eventually had to come down, Pivot Legal Society spokeswoman DJ Larkin says she believes the campers changed the dialogue on homelessness” (2014. “Oppenheimer Park: 5 arrested as tent city comes down.” CBC News, Oct 16. Accessed October 23, 2014. http://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/british-columbia/oppenheimer-park-5-arrested-as-tent-city-comes-down-1.2800767).  One unique step in this assertion to a right to the city involved the eviction notice sent by Musqueam First Nation to the City of Vancouver. When the City of Vancouver sought an injunction to evict the campers, Musqueam called to evict the City of Vancouver. In this notice, Musqueam drew attention to the colonization and illegal occupation of unceded Coast 164		Salish territory. Ironically, it is these First Nations peoples who are the ones disproportionately affected by not only the dismantling of the tent city but, more generally, by efforts to gentrify, revitalize, and otherwise displace and silence First Nations. Food Not Bombs Vancouver humbly supported these issues and efforts with a little apple crumble and some hash browns, asserting shelter over gentrification, community over privatization, and solidarity over colonization. Likewise, Food Not Bombs Vancouver joined protesters at Burnaby Mountain where they asserted public concerns over private interests. 3.3.2 Burnaby Mountain, environmental degradation, and solidarity Talking about the Burnaby Mountain protest Jane noted, “it's not just about resources being taken but corporations who rape the land, leaving people with poisoned water.” (Jane, personal communication, November 22, 2014). This year, Food Not Bombs Vancouver joined campers and protesters at Burnaby Mountain where protesters rallied against environmental degradation caused by Kinder Morgan, a large resource extraction company. Trudging over wet and increasingly icy trails with bags and boxes of food, we arrived at the drill site. We moved through the crowd, offering rice krispie treats and quinoa stir fry to people standing on the muddy hillside. The center of attention shifted between the police and the speakers. As usual, Food Not Bombs was standing—this time in the mud—in solidarity with these protesters, reacting against capitalist corporations for whom climate change is an externalized cost. Hey volunteers! All hands on deck! Newbs, regs, and everyone in between who wanna warm some bellies! Everyone is welcome! The protesters and organisers up on Burnaby mountain have been so amazing and are working toward a goal that affects us all and it's cold up there! (Jacquie, December 5, 2014, Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)   165		Planning for Burnaby Mountain began in mid-November. Juan posted the invitation by Stand in Solidarity Against the Kinder Morgan Pipeline to the Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page: The injunction was not enforced on Monday, and from this point forward, we have to remain vigilant. Please stay tuned to this event page as well as the page linked below for updates.  Please sign up to take shifts in the link pinned to the top of the page! **Any time you can spend on the mountain in the next week would be greatly appreciated. Having people there to bear witness and provide support is crucial during this stressful time for the caretakers.** [Like this page to receive updates from the ground: https://www.facebook.com/burnabymountain/] Let's gather on the mountain in big numbers and be ready for the injunction so we can be ready to bear witness and send a clear message that injunction or not, Kinder Morgan is not welcome in our community! Here's a map: http://bit.ly/1yMU24W ---> Please carpool or take transit if you can. If you have to cross the street when you get off the bus, please do it very carefully! There's a median you can wait on if you need to. **You will not risk arrest simply by being on the mountain. The RCMP must inform you if you are in an area you cannot be in per the injunction. You must be provided, at a minimum, with the opportunity to comply. If you choose not to comply, you are risking arrest.*** If you are keen to organize your own event to get people to the mountain, you are encouraged to do so! Please just make sure that you're familiar with the legal ins and outs of this situation, and that you take responsibility for convening people in this space by making sure that they are as well. This event will be held on Unceded xʷməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Sḵwx̱wú7mesh (Squamish), and Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) territories. Accessibility: This location is outside. There is a flat road and parking lot in the area, but we cannot guarantee that those areas will remain constantly open to the public. The nearest wheelchair accessible washroom is likely SFU. (“Stand in Solidarity Against the Kinder Morgan Pipeline.” Accessed November 16, 2014. https://www.facebook.com/events/1505616249715311/)  That week, Jane began to gather Food Not Bombs Vancouver volunteers together, suggesting that we do a “solidarity serving” at Burnaby Mountain to give those gathered on the mountain some sustenance.  166		Hey FNB! So there's some talk about going to Burnaby Mountain tomorrow instead of the usual spot in order to support the people laying their bodies on the line to stop Kinder Morgan's project. I talked to a few of you already about it and seems like most everyone's on board. What do y'all think?  Me n [Jacquie] haven't been up there yet so I have NO idea how the logistics would work. [Juan] do you have any insight on where/when/how we could serve? Also the lovely [Sarah] picked up a bunch of fruits and squash that would be easy to hand out if we wanted to do it that way. Thoughts? (Jane. November 22, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  That night, Jacquie, Jane, and I got started on the acorn squash, couscous, and carrots while wondering what to do with the huge amounts of marshmallows that were donated to Food Not Bombs—I ended up transforming them into rice krispie treats which apparently looked suspiciously like they might be “special.” There were a number of people ready and willing to join Food Not Bombs on the mountain the next day but we were wondering how we would find transportation like Noelle had mentioned. Jacquie teased that we were “those crazy hippies using oil vehicles to get to protest.” In the conversation that followed, I asked Jacquie how she responds to people that criticize in that way. Jacquie said oil is like water in the sense that we use that too. In her response, resource use is clearly not the problem. The problem is privatization of resources. Jane added it is not just about resource use but “corporations who rape the land” and people are left with “poisoned water.” Here, Jane drew attention to the environmental and social costs of resource extraction where while corporations profit, people are left with the residue of that work. Jane started to write a post to the Burnaby Mountain Facebook Page, asking for ride for tomorrow. Halfway through, she stopped, forgot what she was doing, then remembered and made fun of herself for being high. Her post worked! That is how Linda ended up with us.  When I walked into Jacquie and Jane’s apartment the next day, the kitchen was alive with food, talk, sweat, and, as usual, several women sorting, cutting, cooking, and packaging 167		various foods. Today was “the day of the squashes” (Jacquie, personal communication, September 7, 2015). The squashes were stuffed with a mixture of couscous and caramelized onions, garlic, and cubed yams that were then wrapped individually for easy distribution. While the food was fun to imagine and package, I was particularly amused watching Roxie’s face when Linda described her job and current project. While we were talking about what we could wear to represent Food Not Bombs, Linda mentioned she had hazmat suits in her car. What was she doing with hazmat suits? Contracted with the City of Vancouver, she was in charge of ‘dumpster diving’: she employed college students to sort through trash at Granville Island to assess how much of each kind of waste (e.g. organics, recyclables) was ending up, unsorted, in the garbage. Roxie was all but visibly rolling her eyes, exchanging glances with the rest of the Food Not Bombers. We said that that was not the kind of dumpster diving we were familiar with. However, we were all extremely grateful for her company, help, car, and dolly! With some string tied around our existing signs to hang around our necks, the acorns wrapped expertly by Noelle, and Linda’s helpful car, we set out in our “hippie gas vehicles” to Burnaby Mountain. On our hike to the drill site, we brought with us the blue plastic tub filled with acorn squash, a reusable bag filled with rather sticky rice krispie treats, a box of bananas, a few bags of carrots, pears, and the bok choy mixture that had found its way into in a cardboard box with corn bread. Oh, and extra plates and chips for scooping—since we did not have enough forks we decided to just bring chips instead of stopping and purchasing more forks. On our way down a trail that we presumed would lead us to the drill site, a woman and a man joined us after asking us where to go. The woman took over the rather heavy bag that Jacquie and I had taken turns with. The French Canadian man with puffy hair joined us for the 168		duration of our time at the site, carrying the box with the bok choy the entire time.  At the protest site, a wall of police officers in navy blue uniforms and bright yellow reflective vests circled the drill.    Figure 24 Burnaby Mountain drill site, November 23, 2016. Photo by author.  On the caution tape someone had taped a pink paper with the typed words, “climate crime scene.” In the sharp, pokey bushes on the hillside, another sign called out the police for protecting corporations rather than people. Joined by Idle No More, the protest included signs decrying the presence of the Kinder Morgan corporation on unceded territory: “No pipelines on stolen native land.” On one side of the drill was the camp kitchen and on the other was a group of people with speakers. Caution tape surrounded the drill and police. When we first arrived, we walked straight toward the kitchen. Mira, the woman organizing the kitchen space had long dreads that were piled on her head then banded with a scarf. She wore flowy layers of clothing in multiple patterns and materials.  169		 Figure 25 Burnaby Mountain camp kitchen, November 30, 2014. Photo by author.  The camp kitchen was a makeshift shelter involving a couple of tree branches that made up the basic frame, blue plasticy tarps, twine, some dirt piled onto the bigger logs at the base, and a open fire pit so smoke blew freely—no fire was going when we arrived but then it was going when we left. There were piles and piles of cardboard boxes and paper and plastic bags filled with food. I caught a glimpse of two huge rectangular bricks of a yellow cheese in a reddish plastic cover. Mira told Jacquie that people are not really eating full meals, only snacking on things like granola bars since there are few people actually camping. Jacquie told us, “Mira told us to take some stuff with us so we get it to people who need it before it goes bad” (field notes November 23, 2014). Jacquie also told Mira that if the cops shut it down, Food Not Bombs would happily take the food. After visiting the kitchen, Mira pointed us to the other side where people were gathered listening to speakers. We moved through the crowd to the speakers, crossing through the cold watery mud on the hill. This proved to be a treacherous journey, especially with food. Noelle slipped while holding one side of the tub so I took over. Linda had the other side of the tub and led the way. On the journey across, we tried to stay on the edge of the mud, where the mud met the sharp bushes that poked and stuck to our clothing. This space at the edge of the mud was composed of stomped down grasses that provided something like a tiny boardwalk.  I 170		followed Jacquie and Linda who offered squash to people and they often declined. I would follow and say “would you like a rice krispie treat?” and people would often take one, peeling them apart while attempting not to touch the other rice krispie treats but would almost always fail in this endeavor. Lots of people of all ages took rice krispie treats; it seemed like it might be a morale booster. I would smile and offer, people would smile and either decline or, more often, take one, their eyes widening at the prospect as they looked into the bag I held open. One person asked me if they were “special”—something I had wondered whether people would think this considering how I seemed to be sketchily opening the bag and people had to peer into it to see the treats.  While trudging across this treacherous path, we watched as a few people were arrested for crossing the line. While one woman was taken into the police van, she shouted about the injustice of the pipeline and her arrest. Onlookers cheered. Walking closer to the speakers who had begun to gather, we heard not just periodic cheers but also the speakers themselves. A song was sung. Then, an indigenous elder spoke about the land and traditional practices. She spoke about the song, saying that it is a song they sing in east. She said that they sing the song and the women go in front and the children behind them and the men behind them all as protectors. She said it is a song that they sing when there is coming harm. In this case, harm to the land. After her speech, David Suzuki—followed by a mad rush of media attention—appeared. He called out the RCMP for taking his grandson across the line just to arrest him. He called out all people and corporations for putting a price tag on what is priceless.  I did want to start by speaking with the RCMP first. The RCMP, I come before you with great respect. You know as police officers how the tremendous respect Canadians hold for the RCMP. I want to tell you, during world war two, there were Japanese Canadians like you and 171		me that were born in this country that were declared enemy aliens, and the RCMP had to look after us when we were in jail in the interior, and I can tell you they treated us like human beings. They were very kind and I have nothing but great thoughts towards the RCMP. But now you are here to enforce the law. That does not mean that you are above the law, or that you make your own law. My grandson, was dragged across the line yesterday, and arrested! You are breaking the law! And I am disappointed… I am disappointed and it grieves me, because of the respect that we hold for you! Now I want to say to the people here, thank you for coming. This is unceded land and we have much to learn from the original people that cared for this land for thousands of years. What we are seeing here, and what is going on all around the world now, is a battle between mindsets. A mindset on the one hand of the people who have lived in place for thousands of years and understand what it means to have respect for the land that gives them their lives. There’s a battle between bad, the indigenous perspective, and the dominant societies now, the dominant world view, that sees this not as sacred territory, but as opportunity... as potential resources. And I just want to tell you a story, but I don’t want to go on too long. In the 1990’s, before Hong Kong was going to revert back to China, a great deal of money was coming out of Hong Kong and invested in British Columbia. I received a letter in the mail: ‘Now that offshore money is pouring into Canada, now is a good time to sell your property and buy up.’ I had never heard the idea of buying property and ‘buying up’, and that pissed me off. So I said okay, if I’m going to sell my home, what are the things in my home that make it so valuable to me? The first thing I put down was the fact that when we bought the house, I asked my father-in-law and mother-in-law to move in with us. And they have for 40 years, lived upstairs, so my children have known grandma and granddad upstairs all their lives. And I put that down. My father was a cabinet maker, and when Tara and I were married 45 years ago, he built a kitchen cabinet for our apartment. When we bought the house, I pulled that cabinet out and put it into the house. Looks like hell! But every time I pull out those doors... I think of my father. And I put that down. My best friend from Toronto came out to stay with me for a week, and I had built a fence. He had spent a long time carving out the handles for the gate. Now every time I open that gate... I think of my best friend. And I put that down. My children have dragged in dead snakes, and birds, and roadkill! And we have a little animal cemetery under the dogwood tree. And I put that down.  And as I made that list, I realized those are the things that make my property… my home. And they are priceless! But on the market they are worthless, and that is our problem. If we continue to look at the world and the land around us just in terms of dollars and 172		cents, we are going to destroy the very things that make that land so precious to us, the very things that keep us alive and healthy.  That is what this battle is about. Thank you for coming.  (Suzuki, David. “What this battle is about.” Quoted by Vince Luu, Stop Kinder Morgan on Burnaby Mountain Facebook page, November 23, 2014. https://www.facebook.com/notes/vince-luu/what-this-battle-is-about-david-suzukis-burnaby-mountain-speech-nov-23rd-2014/10154896577175571)  He spoke briefly and people cheered very loudly, cheering for his words and for him as a public figure that took the time to appear and lend his support.  At the end of the day, I went into the camp kitchen to drop off the leftover rice krispie treats. Jacquie spoke with Mira further, taking some food with us. As she put food she gathered from the kitchen—including an exciting find of peanut butter—into a large, clear plastic bag, Jacquie said, “Leave it up to Food Not Bombs to leave with more food than we came with” (field notes November 23, 2014). She put some of the bunches of bananas that we had originally dropped off at the tent into the bag as well—needless to say the bag had an eclectic mix of contents with Jacquie’s jean jacket ending up there as well. With a gorgeous sunset behind us and feet soaked and muddy, we made it off the mountain. On the way out, Jacquie commented on our success. Noelle said it was good to see the protest. All agreed that even though we did not serve much food, it was good to be there in solidarity. On the drive back, Jacquie teased me about my “sketchy” serving of “special” treats while Jacquie, Jane, and Roxie planned to reheat and repackage the acorn squash then bring it to the Smiling Buddha Cabaret. It was almost a given that we would serve at Burnaby Mountain. When the call was set out for people to come support this protest, Food Not Bombs Vancouver unequivocally decided to go. Food Not Bombs stands in solidarity with many anti-corporate, environmentalist, and indigenous-led protests. The connection between Food Not Bombs and 173		anti-corporate and environmental concerns links to their critique of capitalism and its tendency to commodify every aspect of life. In this case, the privatization and sale of land and resources without considering 1) the exclusion of publics who would like to use this space for other purposes or 2) environmental costs. Furthermore, Food Not Bombs has consistently supported indigenous protesters. From the Battle for Seattle onward, indigenous assertions of an anti-authoritarian right to land are supported by Food Not Bombs values. On our introductory trip to Burnaby Mountain, we served food in solidarity with the protesters. Food Not Bombs volunteers sees themselves as serving in solidarity: it is as if they maintain their own protest while articulating with other issues. At Burnaby Mountain ‘food, not bombs’ became a broader symbol. Unlike their weekly food distributions where Food Not Bombs protests with food about both 1) food systems and 2) capitalist inequality, at Burnaby Mountain ‘food, not bombs’ stood for capitalist distributions of land and resources wherein corporations have access to and ability to privatize space even at the cost of the environment and in the face of indigenous claims. In terms of concrete support at Burnaby Mountain, Food Not Bombs practiced solidarity by serving people, raising their spirits, and providing some sustenance.  Laaaaaydeeeez so someone named [Alyson] from Burnaby mountain contacted us today... She's hoping fnb will come in and man the kitchen Fri - sun Waiting on an email w details but basically we'd just go in and take turns cooking and serving. Pretty much everything is already up there and there's no obligation to stay over night, they juts want some semblance of organizing Noelle and Roxie and myself are good for a couple hours each Saturday and Sunday and given Jane and me are being bug sprayed Fri night might make sense and save us a produce trip. Though it would be nice to still do a service on the dtes so maybe w some mad organization we can make shit happen ... There's 3 hot burners up there lots of pots, stuff for sammiches and soups… We should post tomorrow maybe to recruit for Friday They could use a couple people after 2 pm to help (Jacquie. November 27, 2014. Facebook message conversation with Jacquie and Jane)  When Alyson asked Jacquie if we could be there around 11:00am after the hash brown and 174		oatmeal breakfast they were serving on the mountain, Jacquie told her we are on “FNB time” meaning realistically we would be there likely around 1:00pm and stay until around 3:00pm. Even with our intention to arrive early, we ended up on the mountain a bit later than expected to serve food at the “Resistance Dance Party.” With the Kinder Morgan drill gone, it was easy to drive through to the party on the snow-covered hillside. I knew where to go because I overheard a speaker welcoming people. I followed the speaker’s voice that led me out of the trees and onto a hill that was being used for sledding. Ahead, I saw a crowd of people gathered. In the midst of this gathering stood Jacquie and a new volunteer, Karen, who were standing in front of a propane camp stove with three burners. Needing soup and coffee fixings, Jacquie suggested I go to the caretaker tent to I walked down the hill and found the caretaker tent, taking pictures as I went. It was a totally different site: instead of a drill, police, caution tape, and police vans, pedestrians and cars used the road.    Figure 27 Caretaker tent at Burnaby Mountain, November 30, 2014. Photo by author.   I went into the tent and found the caretaker, an older man with a kind but weathered face. I told him I was with Food Not Bombs and it had been suggested they might have some soup or coffee for me to take. He said I was welcome to take whatever we could use and pointed me toward the outdoor food tent (i.e. “camp kitchen”) as well. On this first trip I ended up 175		with coffee, utensils, plates, and creamer. Lighting the stove with a wooden stir stick, we reheated the soup that we had frozen from last week. It included couscous, acorn squash, quinoa, and carrots. With donated peanut butter, jelly—or was it jam, and loaf after loaf of sliced bread, I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.   Figure 27 Food Not Bombs table at Burnaby Mountain Resistance Dance Party, November 30, 2014. Photo by author.  Running out of soup, Jacquie and I went down the hill to find more soup fixings while Karen stood watch at the table. Jacquie took the initiative, grabbing dry soup mix, beans, stewed tomatoes, frozen carrots, and mushroom bullion. We brought these goods back to the table, adding them to boiling water. Meanwhile, speakers included a professor from Simon Fraser University who was arrested, a band that played to inspire everyone to dance—and, in so doing, keep warm between speakers, a man from Jalisco who invited everyone to join in prayer, and an assortment of speakers discussing their disdain for Kinder Morgan and joking about GPS coordinates—since Kinder Morgan had the wrong coordinates for their drill site. Signs littered the snow including “bad kinder surprise” and “picnics not pipelines.” We saw many of the people we had met last week as well as people discussing food justice with us: one man discussing Quest as a way to find cheap food and another describing his discontent with shelters that have become more “political” rather than taking in people that no one else will. People came to our table for “homemade magic mountain vegetable soup” and an 176		opportunity to warm their hands near the stove (Jacquie, field notes November 30, 2014).   Balancing cooking and serving on Burnaby Mountain as well as in the Downtown Eastside was a priority for the Vancouver Food Not Bombs crew. In one of Jacquie’s calls for volunteers, she outlined the motivation to do both food distributions this way:  Hey volunteers! All hands on deck! Newbs, regs, and everyone in between who wanna warm some bellies! Everyone is welcome! The protesters and organisers up on Burnaby mountain have been so amazing and are working toward a goal that affects us all and it's cold up there! … We also have our regular (most) weekly servings outside the sbc cafe at 109 e hastings where the food always runs out before the hunger, this service is important to all of us and is a great way to get involved with your community and help out where it's needed most when the city, province, and country finds things seemingly more “relevant” to put funding into. Fuck that. These people are our friends and neighbors and they are hungry…  (Jacquie. December 5, 2014. Food Not Bombs Vancouver Facebook page)  When we got together at Jacquie and Jane’s apartment, some of the topics that frequently circulated were cooking recipes and techniques, vegan and vegetarianism, how to expand our efforts through volunteers and a larger kitchen, and the way the state and corporations promote profits over people. Irrespective of our pasts, our presents, or our future goals, we could come together around one central motif: food, not bombs. It was like that on the mountain. While certainly not everyone protesting was anarchist, against war, vegan, or thought food should be free, there was a general agreement that corporations are greedy, governments support corporations, and people have the potential to change this system. On the mountain, ‘food, not bombs’ meant that basic necessities should be our—“our,” meaning our individual and our government’s—first priority. ‘Food’ encompassed the idea of a right to land and environment while ‘bombs’ reflected the violence enacted upon the environment by resource extraction companies such as Kinder Morgan. But Food Not Bombs is not only a banner or a symbol; it is a direct action project. 177		 Serving food at Burnaby Mountain did more than demonstrate solidarity. The food itself that was served was part of the protest. When discussing environmental issues, one of the chief concerns is land use. The food used by Food Not Bombs is donated and vegan or vegetarian. Using donated food means using food that would otherwise go to waste. In so doing, Food Not Bombs rescues something that had been produced with land, water, labor power, and a number of chemicals and resource-guzzling machines but was about to be thrown away, with all of those resources simply wasted. Compared to animal meat, fruits, grains, legumes, and vegetables consume less resources (e.g. water and land) in their production. Therefore, the food they serve is itself environmentally sensitive.   Burnaby Mountain was an extension of Food Not Bombs valuation of keeping land available and accessible to all. Like a right to food, a right to land is understood as basic and one that can only be realized when it is shared. Commodified food is food for purchase; it is not a right since it is not freely accessible to all. Commodified land is privatized land; it is not freely accessible to all. At Burnaby Mountain, Kinder Morgan’s corporate interests were being contested: people have a right to a non-degraded environment. “Food, not bombs.” Here, the meaning of ‘food’ is extended to include other basic needs such as access to the environment and land; the meaning of ‘bombs’ is extended to violent projects such as destructive pipelines and the corporate interests that those pipelines house.  3.3.3 #ShutDownCanada, economic oppression, and sustenance [I] was hoping to have FNB feed the revolution :) (Keera. January 30, 2015. Facebook message)  FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:  WHERE: Nationwide  WHEN: Friday, February 13th 2015 Grassroots collectives are organizing nationwide for a day of action to #ShutDownCanada. Through the use of a diversity of tactics the goal is to significantly impact the Canadian economy for one whole day. What is the 178		goal out of #ShutDownCanada? To remove the veil or illusion of the Conservative government’s "Action Plan" that is being touted as a strong economic stance for Canada in the global market. Economics being the key word and base of why there is such a blatant disregard for human rights and our environment. Bottom line is that the government is responsible for allowing multiple injustices including, but not limited to:  • The refusal to have adequate and meaningful investigation for missing and murdered indigenous women exemplifies Canada’s systemic racism and permits it to continue.  • The ever increasing expansion of tar sands extraction and how this “development” is destroying a people (Dene), their way of life and the entire ecosystem needed for their survival. Not to mention the multitude of rare cancers and diseases which are byproducts of tar sands destruction.  • Pipeline construction which equals loss of jobs being exported topped with importing workers from other countries to take Canadian jobs (Action Plan) without the consent of First Nations.  • Issuing grants and licenses for open pit mining even after the Tshilqot'in Supreme Court decision, and the Mt Polley tailings pond breach without any real concerted effort in clean up.  • Fractured gas drilling and the serious intentional misleading of the truth of how this impacts our water supply.  • Site C dam construction and why it is being constructed, not to mention who it is displacing and how they never had any consent from First Nations to move forward.  • The destruction of wild salmon habitat, open net feedlots and fish farming with other countries in our waters destroying the seabed ecosystem and wild salmon stalks.  • Unconstitutional agreements such as FIPA, not to mention now even more so privacy laws are being changed without your consent which goes in direct violation of your actual charter of rights and freedoms. While the issues are many and varied throughout different regions it’s all interconnected and it is this corrupt government that is responsible. The only way for the people to get the attention of this government is to target their pocket books. That is the reason to #ShutDownCanada. (#ShutDownCanada https://www.facebook.com/events/452509068236441/)  Keera, one of the organizers of the #ShutDownCanada event in Vancouver, contacted Food Not Bombs via Facebook after speaking with Juan at 38 Blood Alley about the possibility of Food Not Bombs Vancouver serving at the blockade. She was particularly enthusiastic about the fact that the food we serve is donated. This went particularly well with the goal of the event: to halt the Canadian economy. While Jacquie was a bit hesitant at first, feeling a bit like a catering company, Food Not Bombs Vancouver decided to serve some snacks at this event. Not wanting to abandon our typical Sunday food distribution in front of 179		the Smiling Buddha Cabaret, we asked Keera to find donations for us to pick up—needless to say, this did not quite come through. When the day came, it was Jacquie, me, a huge pile of artisan bread, several plastic tubs of peanut butter, one jar of jam, and homemade hummus.  Hi! I'm jacquie! One of the volunteers you'll meet at the blockade representin' food not bombs in solidarity with all of Fridays events! We'll be there serving up hot soup and fresh sandwiches (all veggie and all FREE!) We are looking for help w donations of peanut butter, jam, or hummus! Bread, veggies, and anything cruelty free is also always welcome! We run on an all volunteer, consensus based system of non violent action and have only what is collected through donation and support so if you're able to bring your own bowl or share a few, please do! We will have some Though so don't worry if you can't! Come say hi to the FOOD NOT BOMBS table and get yourself some grub! (Jacquie. February 10, 2015. #ShutDownCanada Facebook page)  Our ride came to pick us up and drive us down Clark toward the port where the blockade was held. Beginning at Clark and Broadway, a police officer with his motorcycle’s red and blue lights on was parked in the center lane. He waved cars through but stopped large trucks that were presumably on their way to the port. I watched the officer stop a truck, hop onto the passenger side of the truck, and reach for the mirror to hoist himself up. The truck driver lowered the window. I assume the officer told him to take a route around the Clark and Hastings intersection where the blockade was held in order to get to the port. When our ride appeared, we were still crouched on the ground with loaves of bread—not all yet sliced—around us, above us, and on us. We furiously sliced bread, tossing the now manageable pieces into a plastic blue tub. We ended up with a plastic bag full of sandwiches, a cardboard box with two layers of sandwiches, a yogurt tub filled with hummus, a smaller square Tupperware container of hummus, and a half of the blue tub full of bread slices and three additional loaves that Jacquie threw in. Just before 1:00pm, we and our bread were dropped off at the intersection of Clark and Hastings.  180		The ‘blockade’ was an occupied intersection with about a hundred people, some with native wraps and some with bandanas covering their faces.   Figure 28 Clark and Hastings at #ShutDownCanada, February 13, 2015. Photo by author.  Enormous signs were placed on the ground. And eight RCMP officers were split between each of four street corners. On the eastern side of the intersection, one of the officers held up what I assumed was a camera on a long stick.  Jacquie and I saw a blue tent with a gray table set up underneath. Jacquie and I assumed it was for us and we put the blue tub on top of it. We went ahead and unloaded the sandwiches, hummus, and bread.   Figure 29 “feeding the revolution,” February 13, 2015. Photo by author.  Before Chandi drove away to find parking, Jacquie asked if anyone had a Sharpie and Chandi obliged. Jacquie took the lid of the blue plastic tub and wrote “Food Not Bombs” on it. I set it against the blue tub.  181		 Figure 30 Anyone with a Sharpie can be Food Not Bombs, February 13, 2015. Photo by author.  As I looked around at the crowd, there were white folks who looked to be mostly in their twenties, First Nations men, women, teenagers, and a few children. There were three people who wore black bandanas and one who wore a red bandana. There were also the few hippie-types—Keera with a rope tied around her hair like a crown on her head, Dan with his rainbow hat and scratchy-looking hemp long-sleeved shirt, and a woman with a rope around her head that she said her friend had woven. One person that came to our table said they saw some “counterintelligence” officers in the crowd. There was also the media: I saw one man with a tag that said “media” but there were a number of people with their digital cameras and a few people with larger, more professional-looking video cameras. Gerrard, one of the past Food Not Bombs organizers came over with his bike to say hi.  Then there were signs. So many signs. They read: “protectors not protesters,” “can’t hide genocide,” “decolonize,” “solidarity with all land defenders,” “end the harper regime,”  “no secret police no bill C-51,” “no pipelines no tankers stop harper,” “social and environmental justice,” “fracking = genocide,” “native lives matter,” “#inquirynow,” “save my future”—a sign hung around the neck of a small child, “Idle No More Justice for our missing and murdered women,” “End Police Brutality,” and “#ShutDownCanada.” The speakers’ messages reflected the concerns noted on the signs: environmental degredation, 182		missing and murdered indigenous women, and the government’s invasion of people’s lives (i.e. through brutality, through surveillance). While we unloaded the food, we heard a woman share her personal story. She said a RCMP car hit her. With her new injuries, her child was then taken away. The next speaker discussed a broader issue of concern: missing and murdered women who have gone without police notice. She was supported with shouts of “shame” when she mentioned the Harper government. While we began to hand out food, a speaker commented on then, now law, Bill C-51. The fourth speaker described a history of genocide, even systemic genocide. He said that smallpox was what first eradicated First Nations people and, today, neoliberalism is the new smallpox. While picking up our food, we listened to a fifth speaker who discussed gentrification as a new mechanism for pushing people off their land (field notes February 13, 2015).  Figure 31 Signage at #ShutDownCanada, February 13, 2015. Photo by author.  While the speakers discussed historic and contemporary violence, notably against First Nations people, at the Food Not Bombs table we handed out food. Before Jacquie got her sign up, a man asked who we were. I said we are Food Not Bombs and he said, “Of course you are.” Keera came over to introduce herself in person. Accompanied by a few men 183		and women likely in their late teenage years, she suggested the young people bring food to people in the crowd who are less mobile. A woman and a man jumped in to help us spread hummus on the bread. The woman said she likes feeding people and that it is something First Nations peoples do. We put bread on the cardboard lid we tore off the cardboard box in which I had originally put the sandwiches. At the table, the man with the red bandana tried to figure out how to eat hummus on bread without removing his bandana. When I suggested he hold it out from his face, he told me that there were cameras above us as well as in front and behind us. Many people thanked us and commented on our tasty hummus. While we were unable to serve enough for everyone to have a full meal, we helped assuage some hunger to sustain the protest a bit longer.  [I] was hoping to have FNB feed the revolution :) good way for people to stay the whole day if they don’t have to leave to eat. (Keera. January 30, 2015. Facebook message)  Since its inception, Food Not Bombs has been part of the activist infrastructure that creates and sustains protests. In fact, part of the work of Food Not Bombs is to establish relationships with donors, construct their own gardens, form social networks with other activist groups, and make relationships with people in their communities so they know and can respond to people’s needs. In the wake of hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, it is said that Food Not Bombs was one of the first responders. Food Not Bombs was able to assist more quickly than even the Red Cross because they 1) were already connected to the city so they knew where the needs were, 2) had a flexible organizational structure (i.e. non-hiearchical, project-based (dis)organization) so they did not have to wait for approval or instructions to move ahead with their plans, and 3) were willing to get to those people in need despite danger (Crow 2011; Spataro 2015). Though seemingly less illustrious than this 184		previous example, Food Not Bombs does just this at every protest they support. Food Not Bombs weekly food distributions provide the opportunity to create networks, establish routines, and rehearse strategies. Because they are a direct action project, they already exist, practicing each week, being created from the ground up, ready to “feed the revolution” when a protest event arises.  From the perspective of social movement building, Food Not Bombs is a unique and useful tool. Food Not Bombs serves as a node within broader anarchist, environmentalist, and anti-poverty activist networks. In Barcelona, Food Not Bombs served as a hub for the international squatting community by being a location where people could come get food and find a place to sleep while they passed through or stayed on. In Vancouver, Food Not Bombs was connected, notably, to anarchist centers (e.g. 38 Blood Alley) and networks (e.g. Rising Tide) and the associated protests that were planned or supported by these groups. Just like during the various global justice (e.g. People’s Climate March) and alter-globalization protests (e.g. Battle for Seattle, Occupy Wall Street), Food Not Bombs chapters provided not only food but a base for information on the protest itself. At #ShutDownCanada, Food Not Bombs provided food to sustain protesters. Not only did they provide food, they provided protest food, donated food recycled with anarchist values. Furthermore, this protest food served the purpose of meeting #ShutDownCanada’s overall goal of no market participation: people ate donated food for free rather than going to a local market to purchase food.  3.3.4 Affinity-based politics Food Not Bombs is part of the network infrastructure for movement building while, simultaneously, maintaining their distinctive style as a direct action project. The infrastructure they help build is based on what Day (2005) calls a “logic of affinity.” In the 185		ethnographic detail on these protests, I introduced the following ideas: the circulation of food-based counterdiscourses as a practice of non-hegemonic publicness, food distribution as solidarity, and food distribution as sustenance. These observations coalesce around the concept of affinity and provide an on the ground perspective of how affinity-based politics work in building the newest social movements and how Food Not Bombs nutritionally and ideologically contributes to the production of these activist movements. Entering as a direct action project, Food Not Bombs becomes a social movement (dis)organization in these mass actions when they join with other groups temporarily along a (partially) shared goal. Day (2005) juxtaposes affinity against hegemonic identity politics. As an alternative to identity politics, affinitity-based politics are inherently and endlessly differentiating rather than subsuming difference under an essentialized identity. According to Day (2005, 203), these affinity-based politics are based on “groundless solidarity” and “infinite responsibility” rather than a “politics of recognition and integration.” Groundless solidarity arises from a precarious ‘unity in diversity’ of its own, a complex set of (partially) shared experiences of what it means to live under neoliberal hegemony, what it means to fight it—and to create alternatives to it. (Day 2005, 202)  To illustrate this “precarious ‘unity in diversity,’” Day gives the example of the No One is Illegal campaign. In this protest, many activists identify as anarchist but “this identification is not central and often goes unmarked” (Day 2005, 190). Similarly, Food Not Bombs participants tend to identify with anarchism or at least anarchistic ideals but works alongside less “anarchist” actions such as #ShutDownCanada which was primarily an Idle No More, indigenous-led protest. “Infinite responsibility” is a concept that Day (2005, 200-201) describes as including acknowledgement of privilege, realizing not only that one is never ‘done’ with racism, 186		sexism, and any number of axes of oppression but that it is essential to continue to identify these issues and work and learn from others. Food Not Bombs Vancouver participated in a variety of actions, from homelessness to environmental degradation to economic exploitation. In so doing, they recognized that while they might not share the same concerns (e.g. none of the Food Not Bombs Vancouver participants were First Nations), they could empathize (e.g. two of the volunteers had experienced violence based on their sexual orientation) or at least validate those concerns by showing up at, for example, Oppenheimer Park when none of us were—at least at that moment—homeless. Rather than merely trying to circulate a new hegemonic discourse, Food Not Bombs worked alongside other groups and individuals within these activist moments. By listening to the stories of individual and group oppression and by participating in protest actions alongside other groups with different experiences and motivations to protest, Food Not Bombs Vancouver participated in a circulation of counterdiscourses. At Oppenheimer Park, Food Not Bombs Vancouver worked alongside Burners Without Borders, homeless advocates, and First Nations activists. These individuals and groups drew attention to different aspects of inequality and oppression: inability to access affordable housing, joblessness, systemic racism, and insufficiency of government aid among other concerns. At Burnaby Mountain, Food Not Bombs Vancouver worked alongside environmentalists and Idle No More activists, among others. These individuals and groups drew attention to concerns ranging from environmental degradation to the (mis)use of stolen land. For #ShutDownCanada, Food Not Bombs Vancouver worked alongside anarchists wearing the obligatory bandanas to Idle No More activists drawing attention to environmental concerns about pipeline expansions, the RCMP’s neglect of missing and murdered indigenous women, 187		and the expansion of police surveillance. In each of these activist moments, Food Not Bombs Vancouver joined others in “groundless solidarity” with an eye toward “infinite responsibility” (Day 2005). They validated and supported every group’s concerns, joining in solidarity without necessarily agreeing with these groups’ tactics or messages and taking this opportunity to learn from one another. These two attributes enabled a circulation of counterdiscourses that value a plurality of publics and voices rather than subsuming difference into one public sphere. Each group, individual, organization, and project came together at least temporarily around at least partially shared goals and concerns.                 188		CHAPTER 4 “SOLIDARITY, NOT CHARITY”: IMPLICATIONS OF ANARCHISTIC PROTEST FOOD The simple act of sharing is a powerful force (Jo Swanson, Food Not Bombs Co-Founder, as quoted in McHenry 2012, 9)  What appealed to me [about Food Not Bombs] was the action component. People saw two problems, hunger and food waste, and they decided to do something that reduced both. I think it's very resourceful. (Shayna, personal communication, September 15, 2015)  Under capitalism, access to food is generally treated as a privilege. Food Not Bombs undermines that model of people's relationship to food with an alternative practice: share food because it is available, and because people need it, with no other requirements or barriers. Maybe the slogan is not radical enough, though… it would be nice to have a slogan that makes a more explicit connection between greed-driven capitalism, and unequal distribution of food resources in a plentiful society. There's another local group that is similar to Food Not Bombs in a lot of ways; it's called “Eat the Rich.” Maybe their slogan is better. (Gerrard, personal communication, November 22, 2015)  Food is a logical site and symbol for direct action protest. Along with water and shelter, food is one of the most basic human needs. As such, Food Not Bombs asserts food should be a right, not a privilege. Ethnographies collected from around the world have demonstrated decisively that food is a “highly condescended social fact” (Appadurai 1981, 494). Food encodes and marks class, caste, gender, ethnic, national, and religious distinctions (Bourdieu 1984). Food is a silent marker for communicating social hierarchies (Appadurai 1981). Food classification encapsulates the foundational building blocks of culture (Levi-Strauss 1969). Food marks religious systems (Douglas 1972). Food is a site of commensality, a point of gathering for the transmission of cultural values and practices. Food carries within itself the political economic systems that produced it (Mintz 1985). Furthermore, food has the potential to elicit emotions from desire to revulsion (Highmore 2010).   189		With its practical and symbolic uses and meanings, food is a logical site for protest as well as a particularly affective and effective tool to be used in protest. With all of its political, socio-cultural, and economic potential implications, it is an ideal site and symbol for anarchistic direct actions. Protesting with food about food systems, Food Not Bombs activists critique, subvert, and provide alternatives. They critique and subvert foodways that are a product of globalized neoliberal markets. They sidestep the use of food to biopolitically control populations by serving food for free in public spaces. Their direct actions symbolically and practically assert new meanings and foodways: they assert “solidarity, not charity.”  I began this dissertation asking how anarchist ideas are translated into on the ground action. I then proposed the concepts of direct action project and social movement (dis)organization, juxtaposing them against hierarchical groups and organizations in order to tease out the potential of specifically anarchistic ideas and tactics—in other words, what is it about these projects and (dis)organizations that makes them useful outside of protest moments. This final section considers the contexts and ethnographic reflections previously discussed, drawing them together to understand the potential of and implications for anarchistic politics. First, I propose Food Not Bombs is an anarchistic dinner party. Second, I juxtapose “solidarity” (i.e. affinity-based politics) against “charity.” In conclusion, I look at how Food Not Bombs provides useful critiques and practices that can help inform food-waste recovery and hunger reduction. 4.1 Anarchist dinner party The TAZ [Temporary Autonomous Zone] as festival ... the dinner party, in which all structure of authority dissolves in conviviality and celebration. (Bey 1985, 102-3)  [At the bourgeois dinner table] modes of behaviour certainly comply with a very 190		strict code. They form a system and give rise to such precise scenarios that we may attempt to describe them through the medium of two customs: the drawing room and how to negotiate it, and the summons to sit down to eat (passer à table). These two moments of bourgeois family life also serve as initiation ordeals in that the outsider, not knowing the rules, is immediately and implicitly spotted as such. (Le Wita 1994, 75)   At the corner of Main and Hastings, a table is set out by a eclectic group of punks, hippies, hipsters, and ‘blondie’ (me). In front of the deteriorating but reinvigorated Smiling Buddha Cabaret with people passing by or, on occasion, stopping to smoke some opium, Food Not Bombs sets up for their anarchistic dinner party. To this dinner party everyone is invited: “stoned or sober.” The foldable table is set with plastic utensils, (evil) Styrofoam plates, some hastily gathered Dixie cups, and an array of vegan dishes and vegetarian breads. Curries, soups, roasted vegetables, and fresh fruits are on display. Arranged in no particular order but all set out on top of the table with extras waiting underneath. Immediately upon arrival people line up. They do not wait to be seated—but do wait to be served. The rules of politeness involve waiting one’s turn. Food Not Bombs volunteers are ready, ladles in hand, to dish up whatever each person would prefer. No one is forced to accept all of the dishes available; they are free to choose to take a lot, a little, something, nothing, or a bit of everything. Only rarely are people’s requests denied—as in the case of having not enough apple crumble for everyone to have a huge pile of it on their plate. In her book French Bourgeois Culture, Beatrix Le Wita (1994) describes the bourgeois dinner party. She observes those guests that are invited, how children are socialized into this scene, and the awkward pause while waiting for the hostess to enter and seat the guests according to their relative status. At this bourgeois dinner party, only close associates are invited. It is a closed, private affair governed by rules of etiquette that extend from table manners to politeness in conversation. Entering the dining room, Le Wita (1994) 191		observes a moment of pause where the guests wait for the hostess to indicate their positions at the table. Unlike this scripted, orderly scene where only those ‘fit’ to join the bourgeois table are invited, an anarchist dinner party tolerates more ambiguity in its structure and everyone is “fit for the table” (Douglas 1972)—with one caveat: they do no violence to others.  Hakim Bey (1985) envisions the temporary autonomous zone as a dinner party. He says that the autonomous zone is like dinner party that replaces authority with celebration. While Bey, the poet, is not literally discussing a dinner party, Food Not Bombs autonomous zone actually is a dinner party, an anarchist dinner party. The anarchistic dinner party is the culmination of Food Not Bombs values and practices. On the sidewalks, with all manner of attendees, and (sometimes) in the face of authorities, this dinner party challenges violence, hierarchy, and the vices of capitalism. As an autonomous zone, it is ‘temporarily’ enacted but this temporality is actually repeated week after week. In addition, Food Not Bombs dinner parties provide infrastructures that exist beyond their ‘temporary’ appearance. Therefore, it may be conceived of as a more permanent, or semi-permanent (Day 2005) autonomous zone.  Taking this anarchistic food—recovered, recycled, non-violent, imbued with anarchist values such as egalitarianism and mutual aid, placing it on a table on a sidewalk, and inviting anyone—even the cops passing by—to eat creates a radical political and countercultural dinner party. Anarchistic sensibilities and sociality is found at this table. The food is non-violent, non-hierarchical, freely shared, and has some punk spicing. Rather than the cruelty of a system that denies people food, including some while excluding others, Food Not Bombs invites everyone to the table. Rather than making people wait to eat by making them listen to a sermon or, in the case of the bourgeois dinner party, for a hostess to ‘put 192		them in their place,’ Food Not Bombs shares food freely. Food Not Bombs anarchist dinner party critiques systems of domination in such a way as to subvert them while providing alternatives. In Day’s (2005) words, this “politics of the act” addresses not just content but form. Rather than ask for its effects to be ameliorated, capitalism itself is confronted. Thinking about the necessity of food, the inequality of food systems, the biopolitical control exerted through food, and the potential of food as a symbol, an anarchist dinner party is a productive place to make this challenge. Like Bey’s (1985) temporary autonomous zone, as a direct action project Food Not Bombs dinner party creates freedom from oppression and reclaiming connection from alienation in the here and now. It does not wait for revolution or beg for reform. Food Not Bombs dinner party confronts existing systems of oppression while imagining new ones. It is at its heart a “politics of possibility” (Appadurai 2013).  By the ethics of possibility, I mean those ways of thinking, feeling, and acting that increase the horizons of hope, that expand the field of the imagination, that produce greater equity in what I have called the capacity to aspire, and that widen the field of informed, creative, and critical citizenship. (Appadurai 2013, 295)   In his book, The Future as Cultural Fact: Essays on the global condition, Appadurai (2013) writes that a politics of possibility is a politics of the everyday, one that involves memory, aspiration and hope, and anticipation and risk. Memory: Food Not Bombs recounts stories of Food Not Bombs past and present, near and far as it imagines and realizes its project. Aspiration and hope: Food Not Bombs explicitly makes of radical worlds where “hope is the political counterpart to the work of the imagination” (Appadurai 2013, 293). This dinner party is the material display of hope, a hope in the future that is realized in the present. At the same time, the repetition of this dinner party provides socialization so that the imaginative work takes hold and become real—the hope of the future in the present. 193		Through this dinner party, this politics of possibility, Food Not Bombs provides a critical counterpoint, juxtaposed namely against charitable giving that alleviates hunger but does not seek to change ‘the way things are.’  … this ethical commitment [to a politics of possibility] is grounded in the view that a genuinely democratic politics cannot be based on the avalanche of numbers—about population, poverty, profit, and predation—that threaten to kill all street-level optimism about life and the world. (Appadurai 2013, 299)   In this dinner party, the food itself takes center stage, its personality being partly beneficent and partly mischievous: food for protest, for building community, and for sustenance. It is food of memory, anticipation, and hope that both suggests the possibility of a better world and makes that world in the present. 4.2 “Solidarity, not charity”: anarchistic politics against neoliberalism   While Food Not Bombs chapters may not fully realize their non-violent anarchistic ideals such as “solidarity, not charity,” they successfully make visible the systemic nature of oppressive and alienating food systems by linking the availability of and access to food with corporate capitalism bolstered by law (i.e. local municipal law, provincial or state law, national law, and even supranational law). In this section I will first address how and why their goal of “solidarity” is not fully unrealized. Second, I will look at what it means to emphasize “solidarity” against “charity.” I conclude by demonstrating that despite their shortcomings through their food-based protest Food Not Bombs provides a way out of the neoliberal order by temporarily creating non- and anti-capitalist spaces and establishing new forms of sociability. Food Not Bombs ideals include solidarity, non-hierarchical social organization, and non-violence. The goal of solidarity is that there would be no distinction between those serving and those served. While those being served could potentially help cook or serve, at 194		the Vancouver Food Not Bombs table clear distinctions did exist. Those serving were spatially distinct, serving from behind the table in the space closest to the Smiling Buddha Cabaret’s door. Those being served stood in line and waited for one of the Food Not Bombs volunteers to scoop up some food onto a plate for them. Furthermore, those being served were often less washed and less well-housed than Food Not Bombs volunteers. At the table, decisions were made within the Food Not Bombs volunteer cadre. Ideally, non-hierarchical organization involves consensus-based decision-making. While there was certainly collaboration on matters of cooking and planning, consensus techniques were not employed. Since consensus was not used, there was no systematic effort to undo effects of, for example, patriarchy or to ensure each volunteer’s voice was heard. While the more subtle violence of hierarchy was not overtly checked, some hierarchies were recognized and undermined by providing free food to all without creating further distinctions such as marking ‘deserving’ and ‘undeserving’ people. While hierarchy can be considered a form of violence, volunteers extended an ethic of non-violence to their food and behavior. While the type of food they serve was almost always non-violent (e.g. vegan) there was some debate about the violence of animal-based products such as milk. It was decided that free(gan) food was non-violent insofar as serving donated food did not contribute to a consumer demand for, for example, milk or eggs. When given meat, it was set aside as ‘not’ Food Not Bombs—though it is unlikely that anyone being served knew or cared whether it was from Food Not Bombs. Food Not Bombs is not the only activist project that has faced challenges with building solidarity. Guthman (2008) asks about the subjects of food justice movements, writing that white privilege has gone unnoticed within food justice movements and not just white bodies but white discourses permeate food justice movements and systematically 195		exclude the supposed subjects of these movements. With respect to Food Not Bombs Vancouver, certainly their predominately white bodies are juxtaposed against the white, Indigenous, and Asian bodies on the receiving side of the table. In addition, I have found similar racial, class, ethnic discrepancies at other Food Not Bombs tables. For example, in Southern California the almost exclusively white volunteers served food to white, black, and Latino people at the table. This is likely part of a pervasive problem inherent to punk and anarchist projects (Traber 2001). Graeber’s (2009, 258) insight that punks rally against alienation rather than oppression can be usefully applied here. Often coming from middle class families, punk youth respond to consumerism and biopolitics that leave them without a means to experience ‘life.’ In Situationist terms, the spectacle trades real relationships for objects of exchange (Debord 2002; Vaneigem 2001). Instead of getting to know someone, you get to know the image they portray. Thus, punk attire itself is an act of vandalism against the spectacle that performs race, class, and gender through particular kinds of clothing. While punks appreciate the oppressiveness of capitalism, they do not experience oppression in the same way that those who have been colonized have.  In order to better achieve what Food Not Bombs envisions as ‘solidarity,’ perhaps it is useful to apply Guthman’s (2008, 444) suggestion to “listen, watch, and sometimes even stay away instead.” The first step in this approach is to actually be ‘in the field’—in this case, to be on the sidewalk. While serving—rather than being served—embodies privilege, it can also provide an opportunity for sympathetic understanding: to talk, listen, and respond to the needs, preferences, and suggestions of those who are invited to the food distribution. While this suggestion can be adopted by charitable organizations, it is less likely to be internalized when hierarchical organization and ideologies that naturalize inequality serve as 196		impediments. Charities can be critiqued for reproducing the hierarchical, patriarchal, and economic systems that perpetuate inequality. Food Not Bombs participants critique charities for reproducing hierarchical systems such as standard business models. They critique charities for reproducing patriarchal norms with heteronormative ideals that privilege white males. Theoretically, charities are also critiqued for their complicity in the reproduction of inequalities such as poverty and hunger as well as serving neoliberal economies by outsourcing social responsibility (Poppendieck 1999; Riches 1997). In fact, Wacquant (2009) writes that the neoliberal state is the charity state. Simply put, the long-time Downtown Eastside anti-poverty activist Jean Swanson (2001, 135), writes, “Charity creates a relationship of power and dependence instead of equality and respect.”  Food Not Bombs stands outside of charitable giving by challenging form rather than merely ameliorating the effects of capitalism or by asking for further redistributive mechanisms to blunt the effects of capitalism—it is difficult for an organization with for- or non-profit status to challenge the capitalist system that keeps it in business. This is not a particularly popular path. Food Not Bombs co-founder Keith McHenry (2012, 33) quotes Hélder Pessoa Câmara, a Roman Catholic Archbishop, “When I feed the hungry they call me a saint. When I ask why the hungry don’t have enough food, they call me a communist.” By engaging in a politics of the act rather than a politics of demand, Food Not Bombs draws attention to the systems that create and sustain poverty. Furthermore, they demonstrate that neoliberal capitalism benefits a few while disadvantaging many more. When making hunger visible by gathering bodies in the street, their audiences are potential sympathetic publics who might see the cruelty and darkness of capitalism in front of them.  197		For those who hold the neoliberal ‘common sense’ of individual responsibility, they might misread Food Not Bombs efforts as a kind of charitable giving (e.g. when those serving do not have as overt punk attire and our banner is not very visible, we are sometimes asked if we are a church group). But as a political project, as a direct action strategy, Food Not Bombs exposes and undermines capitalist systems while, simultaneously establishing less alienating and oppressive systems. Food Not Bombs exposes the way capitalism wastes food by serving food that would otherwise have gone to waste; they expose the way capitalism ‘wastes’ people by bringing them out from the margins into public space. Food Not Bombs undermines capitalist markets by serving donated food for free; they undermine increasingly privatized space by serving that food in public. Food Not Bombs establishes new systems by practicing non-hierarchical social organization and applying an ethnic of non-violence that guides their actions and chosen food. Rather than renting a building, holding a non-profit status, applying for permits, creating guidelines for both volunteers and ‘customers,’ and ultimately applying a business model for operation—charities do turn a profit, Food Not Bombs invites anyone, “rich or poor, stoned or sober” to a rickety dinner table set by an eclectic mix of punks, hippies, and otherwise countercultural folks who hope to make some mischief, have some fun, and change the world one vegetarian meal at a time. 4.3 “The right to food”: how anarchistic politics can help food-waste recovery and anti-hunger efforts In Food Anthropology, the editors Jason Antrosio and Sallie San (2016) describe the central purpose of the June edition: [A]nthropology’s traditional disciplinary commitment is to include the whole of humanity, learning with people who have often been excluded from food studies privileging elite gastronomy… [A]nthropology’s ethnographic documentation aims to contribute to change and unrealized possibilities. (Antrosio and San 2016) 198		While this does not sound like an invitation to integrate resistance into food studies, this is part of what this dissertation has hoped to accomplish: to describe the role and potential of food in (direct action) protest. Perhaps it is time to recognize the thoughtful criticism and constructive potential of anarchistic efforts to change and create more equitable and empowering foodways. “We just wanna warm some bellies” speaks to the heart of the Food Not Bombs Vancouver project, a direct action project that serves food to people who are hungry and, in so doing, offers hope in the midst of the violence of systems that perpetuate hunger.  While the idea of hunger may evoke images of emaciated bodies, in North America hunger takes on many other forms: families reliant upon food banks or the stereotypical ‘homeless’ person for example. In this context where hunger manifests itself in different ways, many organizations, projects, and governments have increasingly taken up the banner calling for “the right to food.” While this right to food may seem straightforward in its meaning, and even commonsensical, it is actually multifaceted and contentious. The right to food on its face suggests everyone should have food. But what kind of food? How nutritious or culturally appropriate does it need to be? In what quantities? How is it to be acquired?  Since the UN 1948 declaration on human rights, the right to food has been noted and advocated by organizations and governmental bodies worldwide. Notably since 2012, Canadian organizations have taken up the right to food both at the national level (e.g. Food Secure Canada) and at the local level (e.g. city-based food policy councils). Reminiscent of these calls for the right to food, Food Not Bombs asserts, “food is a right, not a privilege.” While all of these governmental and non-governmental organizations advocate a right to food, they do so with different goals and strategies that stem from varying understandings of 199		what constitutes and what hinders such a right. While conducting research in Vancouver, I encountered two prominent local voices calling for ‘the right to food.’ The first is the Vancouver Food Policy Council, a quasi-governmental body that advises the City of Vancouver on topics related to food including distribution, access, and waste. For Vancouver Food Policy Council, the right to food is asserted through a combination of municipal policy creation and the promotion of alternative food systems. The second local voice is the BC Civil Liberties Association, a non-profit organization that advocates for human rights. For BC Civil Liberties Association, the primary way to make sure people have a right to food is to implement it as an enforceable law. Against these formal, legal bodies I contrast the anarchistic perspective of Food Not Bombs. For a direct action project like Food Not Bombs, the long-term answer is the eradication of all systems of domination while the short-term answer is to act as if those systems did not exist in the first place. Here I describe how each of these groups envisions a right to food and then demonstrate the curious similarities between these disparate (even antagonistic) approaches. By comparing these formal and anarchist approaches to hunger, my goal is to see some of the problems with these approaches as well as their potential in moving toward realizing a “right to food.”  The Vancouver Food Policy Council was created in 2004 with the purpose of advising Vancouver City Council on food policy. This council was created based on the city’s food charter that calls for “a just and sustainable food system” with these five principles: 1) “Community economic development” involving the development and support of local food, 2) “Ecological health” which includes aspects of food systems such as the use of natural resources and the disposal of food waste, 3) “Social justice” which suggests, “Food 200		is a basic human right. All residents need accessible, affordable, healthy, and culturally appropriate food,” 4) “Collaboration and participation” involving the invitation of community members and groups to create food policy, and 5) “Celebration” by eating together (City of Vancouver 2007). For the City of Vancouver and its food policy council, the right to food is an idea that encompasses several kinds of “rights” that are, in practice, more kinds of “privilege.” The rights advocated by the City of Vancouver allow for the potential to access culturally-appropriate and healthy food by either 1) growing food within metro Vancouver, or 2) purchasing food in one’s neighborhood. In order to promote this right, the city has supported community gardens, food vendors, and neighborhood projects such as community kitchens throughout Vancouver. One of their own examples of realizing right to food is the City of Vancouver’s support of the Choi project. Through pamphlet distribution in Chinese markets, the Choi project educates people on what greens are locally grown and pesticide free.  While “hunger” is noted repeatedly on the council’s website, the focus and success of the Food Policy Council is located in more middle and upper class concerns such as promoting local and organic food through networking with established businesses and non-profits. There is no published success with regard to making food (healthy, local, organic, or not) accessible or affordable. While one promising area is the expansion of community gardens, even this option does not allow for much access to food nor is it sustainable. While there are 75 community gardens, their tiny plots do not fulfill demand and people are waitlisted or simply never receive a response. In addition, community gardens are vulnerable to development projects and therefore an unsustainable food source. The Vancouver Food Policy Council has, however, publicized the work of the BC Civil Liberties Association who 201		has another understanding and approach to the “right to food.” The BC Civil Liberties Association is a charitable organization that works to “preserve, defend, maintain and extend civil liberties and human rights in Canada.” They have recently taken up the call for a “right to food.” For BC Civil Liberties Association, the right to food should be a legally enforceable right. In a report just released on hunger, Laura Track (2016) acknowledges the cause of hunger in Canada: lower incomes leading to food insecurity. Legally, she argues that income is a major social determinant of health and that governments are responsible for social determinants of health (Track 2016, 11). She argues that the right to food should not be dependent upon charitable giving and volunteers (Track 2016, 14). In so doing, Track follows the work of Janet Poppendieck (1999) and Graham Riches (1997) who argue that charitable giving does not address poverty and, in fact, perpetuates poverty and, therefore, hunger. Furthermore, charities become a kind of “moral safety valve” that relieves the government the responsibility of realizing a right to food (Poppendieck 1999).  As a direct action project, Food Not Bombs takes this critique a step further, attempting to confront oppressive food systems by simultaneously subverting them and doing it in such a way as to construct an alternative. One of the slogans of Food Not Bombs is “food is a right, not a privilege.” In order to assert this, Food Not Bombs makes sure people have food (‘food is a right’) without needing to pay for it (‘not a privilege’). By receiving food for free—and to expose the wastefulness of capitalist markets by serving edible food that was destined for a landfill, Food Not Bombs avoids capitalist markets. During food preparation, chapters employ consensus techniques or simply collaborate in order to promote more egalitarian interactions. Consensus specifically helps to mitigate hierarchies based on 202		factors such as gender, age, race and ethnicity. For their food distribution site, chapters choose public spaces that are ideally visible and even symbolically important. In so doing, they serve food despite the increasing proliferation of laws that criminalize the distribution of food in public. By serving in public space, they ask questions of where, when, and to whom is food a right? Even when they do not serve in visible spaces, like Food Not Bombs Vancouver, they make sure they have “warm[ed] some bellies,” and, in so doing, make their slogan, “food is a right, not a privilege,” a reality.  Applying Day’s (2004) distinction between a politics of the act and a politics of demand can be helpful to understand the underlying differences between these approaches to a right to food. A politics of demand is involves advocacy for reform. A politics of the act involves the creation of new forms. While Food Not Bombs, Vancouver Food Policy Council, and BC Civil Liberties Association all advocate a right to food—all of them even going so far as to deny the efficacy of charitable giving as a solution, only Food Not Bombs practices a politics of the act.  For the Vancouver Food Policy Council, a right to food is a right to have the ability to access affordable, healthy, local, and culturally appropriate food. This right is realized when people have the ability to grow or buy this kind of food. The role of the council is to facilitate the opportunity for people to grow or buy this food by supporting community gardens and food vendors. In this conception, a right to food can be realized within a capitalist marketplace as long as healthy, local, and culturally appropriate food exists for purchase close to where a person lives. For the BC Civil Liberties Association, a right to food is a right that is legally enforceable. Their stance is similar to that of the food policy council except in their critique of charities. For this association, the right to food can be realized, at least in 203		part, with an increase in welfare assistance, a higher minimum wage, and more affordable food, housing, transportation, and childcare. In this model, the Canadian government is called upon to expand redistributive mechanisms, heighten the minimum wage, and perhaps subsidize other necessities. For Food Not Bombs, a right to food should not be undermined by capitalist logics. They support the idea that people should be able to access healthy, locally grown food and even grow it themselves if possible—although they would be far more likely to take up a spot of useless grass and plant some food irrespective of city guidelines. They agree that governments should re-assess their priorities and increase redistributive mechanisms to blunt the effects of capitalism. However, they also make the changes today that they want to see for tomorrow.  While the difference in the political logics of these groups is insurmountable, I think Food Not Bombs’ critique and, simultaneous, construction of hope can still be taken into account, finding a middle ground between reform and revolution. If food is a right, it must be freely accessible to all. Since, as Gibson-Graham (2006) note, there are already non-(and even anti-)capitalist spaces throughout the city, why not expand them? If an anarchistic project like Food Not bombs can recycle hundreds of pounds of bread and produce, other groups should be able to as well; it need not be a charity. Perhaps collective kitchens can take advantage of this to-be-wasted food. The Vancouver Food Policy Council occupies a useful node insofar as it links a variety of groups such as community kitchens throughout the city. Furthermore, perhaps providing low-income housing—to which BC Civil Liberties Association points—that includes more than a hot plate would also help move toward realizing a right to food. Such housing can be coupled with a collective kitchen that functions on donations of otherwise wasted food. While this does not go as far as the direct action 204		politics that Food Not Bombs enacts, it does expand these non-capitalist spaces and provides some hope for the future today.                      205		CHAPTER 5 CONCLUSION This dissertation is an ethnography written with and about Food Not Bombs. While it is focused on participatory research with Food Not Bombs Vancouver that I conducted from September 2014 to August 2015, it is also a product of six years of participating and researching with this anarchistic food distribution in California, Pennsylvania, Barcelona, and Vancouver. The documentation of this case serves three purposes. First, in the midst of some conceptual eclecticism regarding Food Not Bombs, I develop the idea of a direct action project to help define Food Not Bombs and groups like it. Second, this research contributes ethnographic detail to studies of contemporary activism particularly within the global justice (della Porta 2007; Graeber 2002), “newest” (Day 2005), and alter-globalization movements (Juris and Khasnabish 2013). Located within this broader global justice movement(s), I suggest the idea of a social movement (dis)organization rather than ‘organization’ to highlight the anarchistic qualities of Food Not Bombs and groups like it. Third, it documents the potential and “possibility” (Appadurai 2013) of direct action within and against forms of inequality, oppression, or domination (Day 2005; Graeber 2009; Graeber and Shukaitis 2007). This, in turn, adds to the body of literature on resistance that, as Ortner (2016) notes, has been growing since the 1990s both emerging out of and as a reaction to the darkness of neoliberalism.  In keeping with socio-cultural anthropology’s characteristic ethnographic style, the overall goal of this research was to understand with Food Not Bombs’ style of resistance that confronts war, hunger, and the people and foods wasted by neoliberal capitalism. As such, it contributes to an anthropology of resistance that focuses on anarchistic protest: Food Not Bombs (Giles 2013; Giles 2014; Heynen 2010; Parson 2010; Shannon 2011; Spataro 2015) 206		and anarchistic direct action notably within alter-globalization movements (Appel 2014; della Porta 2007; Fernandez 2008; Graeber 2002; Graeber 2009; Juris 2008; Juris 2007; Juris 2004; Juris and Khasnabish 2013; Juris and Pleyers 2009; Katsiaficas 2006).  I introduce the concept of a direct action project to clear up some conceptual eclecticism in the literature on Food Not Bombs (e.g. is Food Not Bombs a movement? is it an organization?). Direct action project refers simultaneously to both the work and result of weaving ideas, values, logics, and practices together following a logic of direct action. This phrase draws attention to some attributes of Food Not Bombs: it is ongoing in its negotiation, development, and localization and continues to (re)evaluate its aims and future plans. Rather than a fixed identity and larger than a singular tactic (see Day 2005 on “non-branded tactic”), Food Not Bombs is a project(s). Like Colectivo Situaciones (2007) who describes themselves using the noun experiencia that actually just acknowledges what they do—experience/experiment, by using the phrase ‘direct action project’ I hope to accomplish the something similar. Like Colectivo Situaciones and other experiencias, Food Not Bombs is defined by an interpenetration of their logics and practices but carried out in local spaces by particular networks of people according to specific needs. It is at once local and global, territorialized and deterritorialized. The idea of Food Not Bombs is bigger than any one chapter but it does not exist without each individual chapter. Therefore, Food Not Bombs should be considered a project that is motivated in part by a transnational logic that there should be food rather than bombs and we can find, recover, and share that food without partaking (too much) in capitalist markets. Conducting research with Food Not Bombs, I found their particular style of resistance is located in everyday acts of finding food, cooking, and eating where food is the site, 207		symbol, and tool of the protest. While this dissertation does include records—or recollections—of mass actions, the banal is where the revolutionary potential of Food Not Bombs is located: a ‘revolution of everyday life’ (Vaneigem 2001). Looking at the everyday means turning attention to (sometimes tedious) acts such as roasting pan after pan of potatoes. So the focus of this dissertation is on just those acts: food acquisition, preparation, and distribution. During these acts, Food Not Bombs Vancouver integrates critique, creativity, and hope in their direct action project. Furthermore, they draw on the cultural centrality of food as well as its semiotic plasticity. They critique capitalist markets for their wastefulness by finding an abundance of food for free, they propose nonviolence by offering vegetarian and vegan foods, and they create more egalitarian relationships simply by listening and working together.  At the same time, Food Not Bombs does appear (very visibly) in mass actions. During my research in Vancouver, we served at the Oppenheimer Park occupation to protest a lack of adequate housing, at Burnaby Mountain to discourage pipeline expansion, and at #ShutDownCanada to protest the myriad ways ‘Canada’ has oppressed people. These more visible protest moments attest to Food Not Bombs’ contribution to social movement building as a social movement (dis)organization that articulates with global justice and alter-globalization movements. Like Graeber (2002) and Day (2005), I focus on anarchist tendencies within this movement and apply Day’s (2005) insight that, at least the anarchistic “currents” of these movements, are based on anarchist logics of affinity and solidarity rather than identity. In each of these protest actions, Food Not Bombs Vancouver joined others in “groundless solidarity” with an eye toward “infinite responsibility” (Day 2005). They validated and supported every group’s concerns, joining in solidarity without necessarily 208		agreeing with these groups’ tactics or messages and taking this opportunity to learn from one another. These two attributes enabled a circulation of counterdiscourses (Fraser 1990) that value a plurality of publics and voices rather than subsuming difference into one public sphere. At the same time, they organize around shared at least partially shared goals and concerns. While, like Graeber (2009) and Juris (2008), I describe the anarchistic logics and practices of Food Not Bombs as they participate in these protests, what is different in my approach is attention is paid to this direct action project that protests primarily outside of mass actions.  The core of this dissertation is ethnographic, describing the anarchistic logics, practices, and foodways of Food Not Bombs in Vancouver. In so doing, my goal is to introduce the reader to people, places, and ways of being and thinking that they may not have previously encountered and contributing to the emerging literature on this group and other direct action projects. A focal point of this dissertation is my work with an ‘invisible’ chapter where volunteers “just wanna warm some bellies.” It has been repeatedly observed that Food Not Bombs chapters strategically serve in “visible” public spaces so as to simultaneously show ‘the public’ the prevalence of hunger and its criminalization through increasing city ordinances that deny people access to free food in public spaces. In my research, I found that working with an ‘invisible’ chapter opens up questions about visibility and the potential of direct action in ‘invisible’ spaces. Working in an ‘invisible’ space, Food Not Bombs Vancouver’s direct action tactic is less pronounced than those who confront police but no less poignant. This observation led me to look more closely at other less ‘militant’ components of food acquisition, preparation, and distribution. I found that through their affinity-based anarchistic foodways, Food Not Bombs challenges capitalist wastefulness, 209		hierarchical organization, and the business of charitable giving.  Food Not Bombs chapters operate on three core principles that inspire their local practice: autonomy, non-hierarchical social organization, and nonviolence—in Vancouver, these principles were discussed as “no rules.” Their practices of food acquisition, preparation, and distribution epitomized these values. For food acquisition, we recycled vegetarian food that would otherwise have gone to waste by receiving donations from local bread and produce distributors. In so doing, volunteers attempted to avoid the ‘violence’ of capitalist markets. By acquiring vegetarian foods, volunteers avoided (at least some of) the violence done to animals. For food preparation, we worked collectively in a collaborative style to decide what to cook and how to cook it. Inspired by a Do-It-Yourself logic, we avoided “business sense.” This “business sense” would have included hierarchical organization, stricter timelines, and even payment. By ‘doing it ourselves’ (i.e. each individual was responsible for pitching in, voicing their opinions and suggestions, and listening to each other), everyone was empowered. For food distribution, we served in Vancouver’s most economically depressed neighborhood at the notorious intersection of Main and Hastings. Providing food to people for free without restriction (e.g. sobriety), we demonstrated solidarity. Unlike other chapters, Food Not Bombs Vancouver did not overtly provoke authorities or appeal to ‘the public’ in this space since food distribution and the gathering of ‘the homeless’ is tacitly allowed by the City of Vancouver and out of view of ‘the public.’  Food Not Bombs Vancouver expands the meaning of “food, not bombs” when they join with larger movements during mass actions. During the course of my research, Food Not Bombs Vancouver served at the tent city built in Oppenheimer Park, at Burnaby Mountain 210		where protesters gathered to oppose a pipeline expansion, and at a blockade for #ShutDownCanada to draw attention to the Canadian government’s participation in an array of systemic injustices. In these activist moments, Food Not Bombs participated in a circulation of counterdiscourses that widened the public sphere. By joining with other groups, Food Not Bombs practiced affinity-based politics, solidarity rather than identity. “Bombs” came to be an empty signifier to be filled in with other kinds of violence such as poverty and homelessness, environmental degradation, racism, and sexism. Groups that gathered at these events maintained different ideological goals and tactics but worked, at least momentarily, together to confront these forms of violence. A perhaps more banal but no less important role, Food Not Bombs provided sustenance. Both at weekly food distributions and at these protest actions, Food Not Bombs set up a table to host a dinner party. Inviting anyone and everyone, operating on their “no rules,” Do(ing)-It-Yourself, and making some mischief in the process, this anarchistic dinner party contradicts the business of charitable giving. The applied purpose of this ethnographic core is to learn from the ideas and experiences of those who are not often invited to the policy table. The final section of this dissertation is inspired by Food Not Bombs critique of ‘charity’ and their own direct action tactics and non-hierarchical organizing. With Food Not Bombs practices and critiques in mind, I look at current discussions and policies surrounding food-waste and hunger. In particular, I address the idea of a ‘right to food’ and the current policy recommendations to end hunger in North America by diverting food that would otherwise go to waste. Writing about charitable efforts to address hunger, Poppendieck (1999) demonstrates that emergency food relief does not address the systems that cause hunger in the first place. Food banks, for 211		example, disempower local people while, at the same time, giving those with the means to eat an excuse to do nothing to change wage inequality, availability of good jobs, affordable housing, or a paltry welfare system. Thus, hunger is accepted as inevitable, interpreted through the commonsense of the neoliberal project (e.g. individual responsibility), and perpetuated through charitable efforts. In contrast, Food Not Bombs aims to enact “solidarity” rather than “charity.” Rather than operating on hierarchical business models and marking strict distinctions between those serving and those served, Food Not Bombs subverts existing systems that perpetuate inequality and creates empowering alternatives. Food Not Bombs opens up already existing non-capitalist spaces such as using donated food. Their food preparation is an experiment in collective, collaborative, and consensus-based decision-making and role-taking. Their food distribution strategically opposes the relegation of ‘homeless’ people into closed shelters instead serving them on public sidewalks. Furthermore, it denies the distinction of “deserving” and “undeserving” poor by inviting anyone to participate.  By welcoming anyone and everyone, Food Not Bombs realizes their slogan, “food is a right, not a privilege.” Like charities that do not address and may even reproduce hunger, the “right to food” is often only partially realized and often only realized by those privileged to claim that right. For example, in Vancouver local, organic food is still largely only accessible for those with the means to pay for it. Even the option of a plot in a community garden is not enough when a person does not have a kitchen in which to cook the produce they grow. Food Not Bombs practical critique (i.e. their direct actions that are at once critique and solution) draws attention to the potential of real alternatives. For example, there is a lot of food wasted in Vancouver and some portion of this food would be willingly 212		donated if only there were a place for it to go. Since ‘charities’ are at best an emergency solution, perhaps that food could be channeled to projects such as collective kitchens where individuals and families are empowered to plan, process, and cook their own meals.  Appadurai (2013) calls us to think of a “politics of possibility” wherein we do not end with critique but with enacting a new vision for the future in the present. In this dissertation I describe Food Not Bombs as a direct action project that does the work of hope in the present by exploiting the cracks in capitalism and creatively producing new cultural forms as well as cooking up some food to share. In other words, “punk rock DIY belly feeding.” Rather than purchasing food, they find donations of food that would otherwise go to waste. Rather than applying “business sense,” they work together, collaborating and finding consensus non-hierarchically. In the face of hunger they find empowering alternatives to ‘charity’ such that anyone is welcome to cook and eat. Through all of their protests—both weekly and in mass actions, Food Not Bombs is a direct action project whose critique, imagination, and hope are immanent in the work it does when advocating food, not bombs.           213		BIBLIOGRAPHY Antliff, Alan, ed. 2004. Only a Beginning: An anarchist anthology. Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp Press.  Antrosio, Jason and Sallie San. 2016. “The Editors’ Note.” Food Anthropology 4(2). 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Jensen. 2009. “Discounting Spotted Apples: Investigating consumers’ willingness to accept cosmetic damage in an organic produce.” Journal of Agriculture and Applied Economics 41(1):29-46. Accessed May 5, 2016.  222		APPENDICES Appendix A: Craigslist post Cook for the DTES with the rad people of Food Not Bombs! (east van)    Hey Vancouver! DO YOU LIKE FOOD? Then y'all should know that Vancouver's Food Not Bombs group is dishing up free, fresh, hot veggie-style home cookin every Sunday afternoon outside the old SBC [Smiling Buddha Cabaret] at 109 East Hastings St. Come meet great people, eat amazing cruelty-free food, and participate in something awesome! EVERYONE IS WELCOME AND EVERYTHING IS FREE!! We are totally volunteer-powered and the more people we get on board to help, the more people we can feed!!  We need people: + to drive: you can help us pick up donations within Vancouver on Thursday or Friday nights, or help us get to and from our feasts in the DTES on Sundays.  + to cook: come over to your new friends kitchen and chop chop chop! Everything we make is vegetarian home cookin, and if you help out here you get to taste all the goodies first!! We usually cook friday and/or Saturday nights and Sunday morning at 2187 Triumph St. + to serve: help us dish up food on Sunday afternoons at 109 e hastings or other places for special events the group wants to support.  Check out the facebook group (Food Not Bombs Vancouver) or foodnotbombs.net more info, or just get ahold of us here on CL [Craigslist] via the contact info above. Can't wait to meet you, Vancouver!  (Jane September 2014 Craiglist post https://post.craigslist.org/manage/4709323264/kckh3)      223		Appendix B: Donation letter September 29, 2014 Donation Letter: “To Whom It May Concern,  I'm writing on behalf of Vancouver's local chapter of Food Not Bombs, an all-volunteer group of civic-minded and hands-on activists working to redistribute food that would otherwise go to waste to the hungry people of the City. We operate under the banner of Food Not Bombs, a loosely knit international movement of people motivated by the growing disparity between the rich and the poor, and between the emphasis that governments have placed on developing technologies for war instead of making sure everyone has access to nutritious food served with dignity. Food Not Bombs is NOT a charity, NOT a religious organization, and does NOT make a profit.  Close to half of all food produced worldwide is wasted--discarded in processing, transport, supermarkets and kitchens--and over 30% of fruits and vegetables in North America don't even make it onto store shelves because they aren't up to consumer standards. The average single-family household throws away one out of every four items of produce they buy. Since 1980, Food Not Bombs groups have tried to interrupt this cycle of waste by recovering usable food that would otherwise be discarded, preparing fresh hot vegan and vegetarian meals that are shared in visible public places to everyone without restriction, and distributing groceries, clothing and other supplies within the community. We have no formal leaders, and strive to include everyone in our consensus decision-making process. Food Not Bombs has been active in Vancouver for over a decade, and is currently reaching out to other members of the community to keep up the good work.  We are writing to ask if you'd like to be a part of Food Not Bomb's project by donating food that would otherwise be destined for disposal--especially produce!--either as a one time gesture of support OR by contributing on a weekly basis. Currently we have relationships with a number of Commercial Drive groceries and bakeries where we will pick up a box of food that would otherwise go to the trash. In addition to helping reduce the alarming amount of food that is wasted in our community, you can save on your own disposal costs, and will be helping to feed the hungry people of Vancouver when we take to the streets on Sunday afternoons.  We are eagerly looking for businesses in the neighborhood to help us do this. If there's any amount of food or supplies you or your business can donate--everything helps, no amount is too small!--please get ahold of [names], the Vancouver FNB coordinators, and let us know when it's convenient for one of our volunteers to come by and pick up. For more information, you can check out foodnotbombs.net or our Facebook group, Vancouver Food Not Bombs.  Thanks for considering helping us reduce waste and feed the hungry!!  224		[contact information]  VANCOUVER FOOD NOT BOMBS”  


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