Food Studies professor Fabio Parasecoli on gastronativism, the “ideological use of food in politics to advance ideas about who belongs to a community”. A conversation about “us”, “them”, food, politics, and systemic thinking.
The Common Table: To start with, could you give us a brief introduction of yourself and your work?
Fabio Parasecoli: I began my career as a journalist in international affairs. After a few years in that sector, I was invited to become the US correspondent for an Italian food and wine magazine called Gambero Rosso in 1998. I worked for them for 11 years. In the meantime, I started interacting with food scholars, especially around the Feast & Famine seminar series at NYU. I began to think about food in different ways, so alongside writing my pieces for the magazine I was writing journal articles and books more in the academic space. Then I decided to go back to school, got my doctorate in Agricultural Sciences and moved full time into academia, first at the New School in New York and since 2018 at NYU Steinhardt.
The Common Table: Let’s talk about the term you coined with your 2022 book “Gastronativism”. Not so long ago there was a rising concern about the loss of cultural identity and food traditions through the homogenising effects of globalism but now the opposite seems to be happening and there is concern about food culture and traditions being used to bolster populist nationalism being on the rise. This is a hard shift from cosmopolitan inclusion to exclusion and discrimination. Are both of these poles aspects of gastronativism?
Fabio Parasecoli: The first one is more what I like to call the “inclusive” form of it, which nevertheless has its problems because, as with many forms of cosmopolitanism, it’s sometimes elitist. Not everybody has access to a cosmopolitan education, lifestyle, or the financial means to enjoy them. Very often with this kind of interest in food culture and heritage, there is a degree of nostalgia or pastoral fantasising.
Very often with this kind of interest in food culture and heritage, there is a degree of nostalgia or pastoral fantasising.
Many of the anti-elite tremors we are experiencing right now have also moved into that field. I think what’s happened in the past few years (which is why I decided to write the book) is that populist movements, illiberal movements, or sometimes straight-up far-right movements, have realised how powerful food can be in eliciting reactions from voters and people in general. It can easily be exploited as an ideological tool in politics. By nature, it is a tool that bypasses the brain and goes straight to the gut. I mean that metaphorically, of course, but also literally. The metaphorical part is very important because you can signal certain themes or call on certain aspects of political culture without being too rational, without analysis, and talking directly to the emotional side of things, which is an important part of what’s happening now in these right-wing movements.
There is another side of gastronativism, in which the attempt to create a basic “us and them” mechanism can be turned towards something more inclusive and empowering. Think of international movements like Slow Food and La Via Campesina. There is an “us” here because there is a clear threat that has to be contained, but the “us” needs to grow in order to be effective, so there is no a priori exclusion.
Very often with far-right or populist movements, there is an attempt to use food to define communities in very exclusive ways: Who’s the real American? Or in my case, who’s the real Italian? These other, more inclusive, forms of gastronativism, have to operate globally to be effective. So there is no specific limit to inclusion except the willingness to embrace the worldview of the movement and being ready to operate within it. If that is the case, it’s not a zero-sum game.
With far-right or populist movements, there is an attempt to use food to define communities in very exclusive ways: Who’s the real American?
The Common Table: Is that the difference between gastronativism and gastronationalism?
Fabio Parasecoli: Gastronationalism is a specific manifestation of gastronativism that focuses on the nation as its horizon and uses nationality to accept or stigmatize people, things, and cultural practices. Gastronativism more generally refers to any process that focuses on food to establish boundaries between “us” and “them,” and can operate both in inclusive and exclusive ways. Gastronativism is visible at different scales, from cities and regions to whole countries, and can leverage other aspects of human experiences like gender, race, ethnicity, religion or age.
The Common Table: How does the term gastronativism apply in the context of the re-empowerment that is going on with the rediscovery or resurgence of so many Indigenous foodways that were heavily suppressed and quite often wiped out by colonialism?
Fabio Parasecoli: These dynamics create a sense of “us”. In bringing erased food cultures back, they are trying to become visible and interesting to people outside of those communities. But to what extent can they exclude the other? Beyond that, the groups in different parts of the world that are making these attempts very often talk with each other because, once again, they realise that to become effective, they need to operate globally. So, yes, it’s an identitarian move but I don’t think it’s the sort of zero-sum game that uses food to exclude people. In this case, it’s more to reclaim agency for communities that have not been taken into consideration or have sometimes been physically erased, which happened many, many times in the Americas and elsewhere.
Exclusivist movements are connected with the fear of losing advantages, prerogatives or privileges, real or imagined.
Could they become an exclusivist gastronativist movement? Potentially, yes, but I don’t think it’s in their interest. Very often, exclusivist movements are connected with the fear of losing advantages, prerogatives or privileges, real or imagined. Indigenous communities have less of that, although by letting people in, they still risk losing something, especially in terms of cultural or social specificities. So I think that the overall attitude in this respect is different.
The Common Table: There are so many potential forms of inclusion and exclusion. Could inclusion not also be seen to refer to the swallowing up of food cultures, like the British engulfing colonial foodways into its own food culture, for example?
Fabio Parasecoli: That’s a dynamic that’s always been part of food history. I mean, I’m Roman, and if you look at the food culture of the Roman Empire, it was all about integrating the fruits of the Empire – very often as a display of wealth and power. Then as migrant communities moved in, their foodways also trickled down. I think that happened in England too, but I don’t think it falls under the same kind of phenomenon. I remember the Prime Minister of England [Foreign Secretary Robin Cook, in 2001, ed.] once said that chicken tikka masala is a British national dish. If anything, he was trying to project an idea of an inclusive England, which however erased the impact of centuries of colonialism. I don’t know whether a pronouncement like that would work these days, especially post-Brexit, but back then, it was okay, it was the spirit of the time. I think we live in a different historical moment now that will reverberate in many ways, especially with the second election of Trump. But we’ll see some countries showing a little bit of resilience too. South Korea, with its failed authoritarian coup, comes to mind.
The Common Table: With the almost universal distribution of so many crops, ingredients, people and food cultures is there even such a thing as local and traditional foodstuffs and techniques anyway?
Fabio Parasecoli: It depends on how you think about it. If you think of food as an essential and unchanging element, I don’t think that has ever existed in the history of humanity. I mean, if you look at my food culture, olive trees came from Greece, wheat came from the Middle East, tomatoes came from the Americas, eggplants came from the Arabs, and so on. I think what counts is how communities integrate those elements and feel about them. I don’t think that any Italian now would have an issue saying that tomatoes are Italian. Especially because, over the centuries, specific varieties were created in Italy. So we could say, for example, that the San Marzano variety exists only here, and things like that.
The problem starts when this thirst for origins becomes part of an ideologisation of food, in the sense that you look for a mythical core on which you can build your discourse (such as identity, defence and whatnot). If you analyse it from a historical or materialist point of view, it makes no sense whatsoever. I mean, that’s not how the diffusion of plants and animals and food has worked for the past maybe 4,000 years.
The problem starts when this thirst for origins becomes part of an ideologisation of food, in the sense that you look for a mythical core on which you can build your discourse.
The Common Table: So – invasive species takeovers aside, which is also a longer discussion – in terms of crops, perhaps something that grows well in a place should simply be allowed to grow in that place where it grows well?
Fabio Parasecoli: Many of the cases in which certain spices and crops were moved from South Asia to the Caribbean were part of Imperial projects. Sugar cane, for example, originated in New Guinea but was mostly grown commercially in the Caribbean and then the Americas. In such cases, the transfer is not just osmotic, it becomes violent.
As you mentioned, these new crops have also had heavy impacts on the landscape and environment. Think about Vietnam deciding to grow coffee, destroying whole swathes of forests, and erasing ethnic minorities. The same thing is happening now in Yunnan Province in China. It’s not the State doing this, it’s investors but what will it mean to introduce plantations of coffee into the Yunnan landscape? That’s always the danger with mass cultivating alien species. Back in the day, they were Imperial projects. Now we can call them neoliberal globalisation projects. Some people push back when I use the word neoliberal in this context, but for me, it specifically refers to the post-1980s, Washington Consensus, structural readjustment, and free trade policies.
The Common Table: Let’s shift to a subject we spend a lot of time thinking about at The Common Table: food education. How do you teach about food and how does it differ from traditional food-related academic subjects such as agriculture, nutrition or anthropology? We would even include gastronomy or culinary school in there.
Fabio Parasecoli: I take advantage of the fact that I studied international politics and then worked in different fields. I try to bring them together and communicate this approach to students. I have always pushed students to think systemically, which can be a little complicated. I teach a class called Agricultural Globalisation, for example, which addresses systemic issues from the point of view of agriculture and trade. The changes that have happened to the food system since the 1980s (and then the advent of the World Trade Organisation in 1995) have brought about a level of integration in the food commodities trade that is quite new. In 2022, I published a piece about the impact the war in Ukraine is having on global wheat trade and the consequences for developing countries in this context.
The changes that have happened to the food system since the 1980s have brought about a level of integration in the food commodities trade that is quite new.
If you want to look at those issues systemically, you need to have a very multidisciplinary outlook. For me, working systemically means putting together diachronic and synchronic approaches and also looking from different points of view. Because of my background, this usually means politics, economics, law and communication because, after all, I worked in media for over 20 years. Another of the classes I teach is called Food and Culture, which is an introduction to the anthropology of food. It’s also where I teach students research methods – from interviews and observations to digital ethnographies or visual ethnographies – which are tools they can use in all sorts of applications.
If you want to look at those issues systemically, you need to have a very multidisciplinary outlook.
I also have a new class on food and technology, where I get students to think about the fact that technology is never neutral. Who decides what sort of technology is necessary? Where is the investment money going? Who has a say in accepting or refusing this technology? I try to help them think in terms of power relations and globalisation, but also with a very strong eye on legal issues. In the first class, we spent half of the time just discussing the impact of intellectual property on that. Why do we have intellectual property the way it is? What does this mean for cultures that do not have a written tradition?
The Common Table: Since education systems still tend to be pretty siloed, what kind of education backgrounds do your students have – science? culinary? the arts?
Fabio Parasecoli: They come from different backgrounds. They may be engineers, artists, chefs, activists, journalists. They come to us to get a well-rounded introduction to food. Among the core classes are food and culture, food and nutrition, food systems, and food policy. Beyond these mandatory courses, students can choose the classes that help them focus on their interests; this could be in media and communication, social entrepreneurship, or policy. Many want to become advocates or activists, working in NGOs or public institutions.
For me, working systemically means putting together diachronic and synchronic approaches and also looking from different points of view.
The Common Table: Finally, because it is part of the syllabus you teach and because there are many different understandings of the term, we are curious to hear what “food design” means to you. Do you think the discipline of Food Design is fulfilling its potential?
Fabio Parasecoli: I’m not a designer, so I am a little out of this arena, but for me, food design means applying the approaches and methods of design to the food system. And I think you can do this at different levels. You could be designing dishes, tableware, fridges, restaurants or infrastructures. You might even be thinking about systemic changes in a city or a region. At every level, I think it’s important to think systemically. Even if you’re just a product designer designing a cup you need to think: where does this material come from? Where will it go? How are people relating to this object? What does it mean culturally? And also: What are the economic issues involved in producing this product? And so on. The design act, even if it’s very focused on creating a new object, should become more holistic.
I don’t get those people who consider food design to just mean plating, which is a very common thing, unfortunately. I was first exposed to design at the Parsons School of Design in the New School where I used to teach. It is a very experimental school in many ways. A great place to be, where you can see where design is going, not just where it is. I think food has become important in design because design has been shifting away from products and built environments – tangible, visual things – through the 1980s switch to user experience and user interactions, thanks to computers, to now where it is considering more non-tangible elements, like processes, services and systems. When I talk to students, I always say that when you are designing something, what you are really doing is designing the dark matter behind it that you cannot see.
When you are designing something, what you are really doing is designing the dark matter behind it that you cannot see.
I’ve used design in a project that I had in Poland where I gathered young chefs between 25 and 35 and had them think about how they see a future Polish food menu in 10 or 20 years; a cheap one, an expensive one, a sustainable one: Then I had them do their thing, which is creating menus, calculate dish costs, think about the logistics of the restaurant. All for these different future menus. It is a way for them to start thinking about food in different ways.
Fabio Parasecoli is a Professor in the Department of Nutrition and Food Studies at NYU Steinhardt and former professor and Director of Food Studies Initiatives at The New School in NYC, where he launched the AA and BA/BS degrees in Food Studies. His research explores the politics of food, particularly in media, design, heritage, and international affairs.
After covering Middle and Far Eastern political issues, he wrote for many years as the U.S. correspondent for the Italian food and wine magazine Gambero Rosso. His books include Al Dente: A History of Food in Italy (2014), Feasting Our Eyes: Food, Film, and Cultural Citizenship in the US (with Laura Lindenfeld, 2016), Knowing Where It Comes From: Labeling Traditional Foods to Compete in a Global Market (2017), Food (2019, MIT Press) Global Brooklyn: Designing Food Experiences in World Cities (Bloomsbury, 2021), Gastronativism: Food Identity, Politics (Columbia University Press, 2022), and Practicing Food Studies (2024, coedited with Amy Bentley and Krishnendu Ray).
Cover image: Still Life with Fruit by Giovanni Battista Ruoppolo (1629-1693): Public Domain