How do you feed a city? It's one of the great questions of our time. Yet it's one that's rarely asked. We take it for granted that if we go into a shop or restaurant, or indeed into this theater's foyer in about an hour's time, there is going to be food there waiting for us, having magically come from somewhere.
Kako biste nahranili grad? To je jedno od većih pitanja današnjice. Ipak rijetko se postavlja. Uzimamo zdravo za gotovo da ako odemo u trgovinu ili restoran, ili u predvorje kazališta na sat vremena, da će biti hrane koja nas čeka i koja je čarobno odnekuda došla.
But when you think that every day for a city the size of London, enough food has to be produced, transported, bought and sold, cooked, eaten, disposed of, and that something similar has to happen every day for every city on earth, it's remarkable that cities get fed at all.
Ali ako razmislite o tome da svakodnevno za grad veličine Londona, dovoljno hrane treba biti proizvedeno, transportirano, kupljeno i prodano, kuhano, pojedeno, zbrinuto, i da se nešto tomu slično treba svakodnevno događati u svakom gradu na zemlji, izvanredno je da se gradovi uopće prehrane.
We live in places like this as if they're the most natural things in the world, forgetting that because we're animals and that we need to eat, we're actually as dependent on the natural world as our ancient ancestors were. And as more of us move into cities, more of that natural world is being transformed into extraordinary landscapes like the one behind me -- it's soybean fields in Mato Grosso in Brazil -- in order to feed us. These are extraordinary landscapes, but few of us ever get to see them.
Živimo u takvim mjestima kao da su to najprirodnija mjesta na svijetu, zaboravljajući da stoga što smo životinje i jer moramo jesti, zapravo ovisimo o prirodnome svijetu kao naši drevni preci. I što nas se više seli u gradove, sve se više prirodnog svijeta pretvara u nevjerojatne krajeve kao što je ovaj iza mene, to su polja soje u Mata Grossu, u Brazilu, kako bi nas prehranio. Ovo su nevjerojatni krajolici. Ali malo nas ih ikada vidi.
And increasingly these landscapes are not just feeding us either. As more of us move into cities, more of us are eating meat, so that a third of the annual grain crop globally now gets fed to animals rather than to us human animals. And given that it takes three times as much grain -- actually ten times as much grain -- to feed a human if it's passed through an animal first, that's not a very efficient way of feeding us.
I sve je češće da ovakvi krajolici ne prehranjuju samo nas. Što nas se više seli u gradove, sve nas više jede meso, i tako trećina svjetskih godišnjih usjeva žitarica odlazi na prehranu životinja negoli nas ljudskih životinja. A činjenica da je potrebno tri puta više žitarica -- zapravo deset puta više žitarica -- da bi se nahranilo čovjeka ako se prije toga hranilo životinju, to nije najefikasniji način da se prehranimo.
And it's an escalating problem too. By 2050, it's estimated that twice the number of us are going to be living in cities. And it's also estimated that there is going to be twice as much meat and dairy consumed. So meat and urbanism are rising hand in hand. And that's going to pose an enormous problem. Six billion hungry carnivores to feed, by 2050. That's a big problem. And actually if we carry on as we are, it's a problem we're very unlikely to be able to solve.
I to je zapravo eskalirajući problem. Procjenjuje se da će se do 2050. udvostručiti broj nas koji ćemo živjeti u gradovima. I procjenjuje se da će biti potrebno duplo više mesa i mliječnih proizvoda za potrošnju. Dakle meso i urbanizam se povećavaju zajedno. I to će predstavljati golemi problem. Nahraniti šest milijardi gladnih mesoždera, do 2050. To je veliki problem. I zapravo ako nastavimo kao sada, to je problem kojeg vrlo vjerojatno nećemo moći riješiti.
Nineteen million hectares of rainforest are lost every year to create new arable land. Although at the same time we're losing an equivalent amount of existing arables to salinization and erosion. We're very hungry for fossil fuels too. It takes about 10 calories to produce every calorie of food that we consume in the West. And even though there is food that we are producing at great cost, we don't actually value it. Half the food produced in the USA is currently thrown away. And to end all of this, at the end of this long process, we're not even managing to feed the planet properly. A billion of us are obese, while a further billion starve. None of it makes very much sense.
19 milijuna hektara prašume nestane svake godine da bi se stvorila nova obradiva površina zemlje. Iako u isto vrijeme gubimo jednaku količinu postojećih obradivih površina zbog salinizacije i erozije. Također smo pohlepni i za fosilnim gorivima. Potrebno je 10 kalorija da bi se proizvela jedna kalorija hrane koju konzumiramo na Zapadu. Iako postoji hrana koju proizvodimo uz veliki trošak zapravo je ne cijenimo. Polovica hrane proizvedeno u SAD-u se trenutno baca. I na kraju svega, na kraju tog dugog procesa, ne uspijevamo valjano prehraniti planet. Milijardu nas je pretilo dok druga milijarda gladuje. Ništa od toga nema pretjerano smisla.
And when you think that 80 percent of global trade in food now is controlled by just five multinational corporations, it's a grim picture. As we're moving into cities, the world is also embracing a Western diet. And if we look to the future, it's an unsustainable diet.
I kada razmislite da upravo 80 posto svjetske trgovine hranom kontrolira tek pet multinacionalnih korporacija, to je strašna slika. Kako se selimo u gradove, svijet prihvaća zapadnjačku prehranu. I ako pogledamo u budućnost to je neodrživa prehrana.
So how did we get here? And more importantly, what are we going to do about it? Well, to answer the slightly easier question first, about 10,000 years ago, I would say, is the beginning of this process in the ancient Near East, known as the Fertile Crescent. Because, as you can see, it was crescent shaped. And it was also fertile. And it was here, about 10,000 years ago, that two extraordinary inventions, agriculture and urbanism, happened roughly in the same place and at the same time.
Kako smo došli ovdje? I još važnije, što ćemo učiniti? Pa, prvo da odgovorim na nešto jednostavnije pitanje, prije otprilike 10 000 godina, rekla bih, započeo je taj proces. Na drevnom Bliskom istoku, poznatom kao Dolina plodnog polumjeseca. Jer kao što vidite ima oblik polumjeseca. I isto tako, vrlo je plodna. I tu su, prije otprilike 10 000 godina, nastala ta dva izvanredna izuma, poljoprivreda i urbanizam, približno na istome mjestu i u isto vrijeme.
This is no accident, because agriculture and cities are bound together. They need each other. Because it was discovery of grain by our ancient ancestors for the first time that produced a food source that was large enough and stable enough to support permanent settlements. And if we look at what those settlements were like, we see they were compact. They were surrounded by productive farm land and dominated by large temple complexes like this one at Ur, that were, in fact, effectively, spiritualized, central food distribution centers.
To nije slučajnost. Jer su poljoprivreda i gradovi međusobno povezani. Trebaju jedno drugo. Pronalazak žitarica, od strane naših predaka, po prvi je put, stvorio izvor hrane dovoljan i stabilan da održava trajna naselja. I ako pogledamo izgled tih naselja, vidimo da su bila vrlo zbijena. Bila su okružena plodnim poljoprivrednim zemljištem i dominirali su veliki hramski kompleksi poput ovoga u Uru, koji su, zapravo, bili učinkoviti duhovni, središnji centri za distribuciju hrane
Because it was the temples that organized the harvest, gathered in the grain, offered it to the gods, and then offered the grain that the gods didn't eat back to the people. So, if you like, the whole spiritual and physical life of these cities was dominated by the grain and the harvest that sustained them. And in fact, that's true of every ancient city. But of course not all of them were that small. Famously, Rome had about a million citizens by the first century A.D. So how did a city like this feed itself? The answer is what I call "ancient food miles."
jer su hramovi organizirali žetvu, prikupljali žitarice, prinosili ih bogovima, i zatim nudili žitarice koje bogovi nisu pojeli natrag ljudima. I time, ako želite, čitav duhovni i tjelesni život tih gradova je bio obilježen žitaricama i žetvom koja ih je održavala. I to je zapravo istina za svaki drevni grad. No naravno nisu svi bili tako mali. Poznato je da je Rim imao oko milijun građana u prvom stoljeću A.D. Kako se takav grad prehranjivao? Odgovor je u onom što ja nazivam "drevnim putovima hrane".
Basically, Rome had access to the sea, which made it possible for it to import food from a very long way away. This is the only way it was possible to do this in the ancient world, because it was very difficult to transport food over roads, which were rough. And the food obviously went off very quickly. So Rome effectively waged war on places like Carthage and Egypt just to get its paws on their grain reserves. And, in fact, you could say that the expansion of the Empire was really sort of one long, drawn out militarized shopping spree, really. (Laughter) In fact -- I love the fact, I just have to mention this: Rome in fact used to import oysters from London, at one stage. I think that's extraordinary.
U osnovici, Rim je imao pristup moru, što je omogućilo da se uvozi hrana iz dalekih krajeva. To je bio jedini mogući način da se to čini u drevnome svijetu jer je bilo vrlo teško prevoziti hranu cestama, koje su bile neravne. I hrana je očigledno nestajala vrlo brzo. I tako je Rim učinkovito vodio rat u mjestima poput Kartage i Egipta kako bi se dočepao skladišta žitarica. I zapravo se može reći da je ekspanzija Carstva bila u stvarnosti jedno dugo, otegnuto militarizirano masovno kupovanje. (Smijeh) Činjenica je -- volim činjenice, moram to spomenuti: Rim je zapravo uvozio kamenice iz Londona, u jednom razdoblju. Mislim da je to izvanredno.
So Rome shaped its hinterland through its appetite. But the interesting thing is that the other thing also happened in the pre-industrial world. If we look at a map of London in the 17th century, we can see that its grain, which is coming in from the Thames, along the bottom of this map. So the grain markets were to the south of the city. And the roads leading up from them to Cheapside, which was the main market, were also grain markets.
Dakle Rim je stvorio zaleđe kroz svoj apetit. Ali zanimljiva je stvar da se nešto drugo također dogodilo u predindustrijskom svijetu. Ako pogledamo kartu Londona iz 17. stoljeća, možemo vidjeti da su žitarice, koje su dolazile Temzom, na dnu ove karte. Tržnice žitarica su bile u južnom dijelu grada. A ceste koje su vodile od njih do Cheapsidea, koji je bio glavna tržnica, su također bile tržnice žitarica.
And if you look at the name of one of those streets, Bread Street, you can tell what was going on there 300 years ago. And the same of course was true for fish. Fish was, of course, coming in by river as well. Same thing. And of course Billingsgate, famously, was London's fish market, operating on-site here until the mid-1980s. Which is extraordinary, really, when you think about it. Everybody else was wandering around with mobile phones that looked like bricks and sort of smelly fish happening down on the port.
I ako pogledate imena tih ulica, Bread Street, možete reći što se događalo tamo prije 300 godina. Isto je naravno važilo i za ribu. Riba je naravno dolazila također rijekom. Ista stvar. I naravno poznati Billingsgate je bio londonska riblja tržnica, u pogonu na licu mjesta do sredine 1980-ih. Što je izvanredno, zapravo, kada razmislite o tome. Svi su lutali okolo s mobitelima koji su izgledali kao cigle, i, nešto se, smrdljivo riblje događalo dolje u luci.
This is another thing about food in cities: Once its roots into the city are established, they very rarely move. Meat is a very different story because, of course, animals could walk into the city. So much of London's meat was coming from the northwest, from Scotland and Wales. So it was coming in, and arriving at the city at the northwest, which is why Smithfield, London's very famous meat market, was located up there. Poultry was coming in from East Anglia and so on, to the northeast. I feel a bit like a weather woman doing this. Anyway, and so the birds were coming in with their feet protected with little canvas shoes. And then when they hit the eastern end of Cheapside, that's where they were sold, which is why it's called Poultry.
To je još jedna stvar vezana uz hranu u gradovima: Kada su jednom stvoreni korijeni u gradu, rijetko su se micali. Meso je drugačija priča jer, naravno, životinje su mogle hodati po gradu. Tako je većina londonskog mesa dolazila sa sjeverozapada, iz Škotske i Walesa. Dolazila je i stizala u sjeverozapadni dio grada, i zato je Smitfield, londonska vrlo poznata tržnica mesa, locirana tamo. Perad je dolazila iz Istočne Anglije pa do sjeveroistoka. Osjećam se pomalo kao vremenska prognozerka dok ovo radim. No ipak. I tako su ptice dolazile s nogama zaštićenim malim platnenim cipelama. I kada bi stigle do istočnog dijela Cheapsidea, bile bi prodane. Zbog toga se i naziva Poultry (perad).
And, in fact, if you look at the map of any city built before the industrial age, you can trace food coming in to it. You can actually see how it was physically shaped by food, both by reading the names of the streets, which give you a lot of clues. Friday Street, in a previous life, is where you went to buy your fish on a Friday. But also you have to imagine it full of food. Because the streets and the public spaces were the only places where food was bought and sold.
I zapravo, ako pogledate kartu bilo kojega grada sagrađenog prije industrijskog doba, možete pratiti hranu koja je dolazila. Možete doista vidjeti kako je fizički bio oblikovan zbog hrane, također i čitajući imena ulica, koja vam daju mnogo tragova. Friday Street (Ulica petka), u prijašnjem životu, je gdje biste petkom išli kupiti ribu. Ali morate ju i zamisliti punom hrane. Jer su ulice i javna mjesta bila jedina mjesta gdje se hrana kupovala i prodavala.
And if we look at an image of Smithfield in 1830 you can see that it would have been very difficult to live in a city like this and be unaware of where your food came from. In fact, if you were having Sunday lunch, the chances were it was mooing or bleating outside your window about three days earlier. So this was obviously an organic city, part of an organic cycle. And then 10 years later everything changed.
I ako pogledamo izgled Smithfielda 1830. možete vidjeti da bi bilo vrlo teško živjeti u ovakvome gradu i da ne budete svjesni odakle stiže hrana. Zapravo, da imate nedjeljni ručak, vrlo je vjerojatno da je mukao ili blejao kroz vaš prozor prije tri dana. Dakle očito je da je ovo organski grad, dio organskog ciklusa. I onda se 10 godina kasnije sve promijenilo.
This is an image of the Great Western in 1840. And as you can see, some of the earliest train passengers were pigs and sheep. So all of a sudden, these animals are no longer walking into market. They're being slaughtered out of sight and mind, somewhere in the countryside. And they're coming into the city by rail. And this changes everything. To start off with, it makes it possible for the first time to grow cities, really any size and shape, in any place. Cities used to be constrained by geography; they used to have to get their food through very difficult physical means. All of a sudden they are effectively emancipated from geography.
Ovo je slika Velike zapadne željeznice 1840. I kao što možete vidjeti, neki od najranijih putnika vlakovima su bile svinje i ovce. I tako iznenada ove životinje više nisu hodale do tržnice. Bile su ubijene daleko od očiju i srca, negdje na selu. I dolazile su u grad željeznicom. I to mijenja sve. U početku, postaje moguće po prvi puta izgraditi gradove, doista bilo koje veličine ili oblika, na bilo kojem mjestu. Gradovi su bilo ograničeni geografijom: trebali su doći do hrane vrlo teškim fizičkim sredstvima. No iznenada su se vrlo učinkovito odvojili od geografije.
And as you can see from these maps of London, in the 90 years after the trains came, it goes from being a little blob that was quite easy to feed by animals coming in on foot, and so on, to a large splurge, that would be very, very difficult to feed with anybody on foot, either animals or people. And of course that was just the beginning. After the trains came cars, and really this marks the end of this process. It's the final emancipation of the city from any apparent relationship with nature at all.
I kao što možete vidjeti ove karte Londona, u 90 godina nakon što je nastala željeznica, postao je, od male tvorevine koju je bilo vrlo lako nahraniti, životinjama koje su dolazile pješice, i tako dalje, veliko razmetljivo mjesto, koje bi bilo vrlo vrlo teško nahraniti s bilo čim što hoda, ili životinjama ili ljudima. I naravno to je bio tek početak. Nakon vlakova došli su automobili. I to zapravo obilježava kraj ovog procesa. To je konačna emancipacija grada od bilo koje očigledne veze s prirodom.
And this is the kind of city that's devoid of smell, devoid of mess, certainly devoid of people, because nobody would have dreamed of walking in such a landscape. In fact, what they did to get food was they got in their cars, drove to a box somewhere on the outskirts, came back with a week's worth of shopping, and wondered what on earth to do with it. And this really is the moment when our relationship, both with food and cities, changes completely.
Ovo je vrsta grada lišena smrada, lišena gužve, zasigurno lišena ljudi. Jer nitko nije ni sanjao da će hodati u ovakvom okruženju. Ustvari, da bi došli do hrane uzimali su svoje automobile, vozili se do kućice negdje u predgrađu, vraćali se s tjednim zalihama kupovine, i pitali se što da sada rade s tim. I to je zasigurno trenutak kada se naša veza, i s hranom i s gradovima, u potpunosti mijenja.
Here we have food -- that used to be the center, the social core of the city -- at the periphery. It used to be a social event, buying and selling food. Now it's anonymous. We used to cook; now we just add water, or a little bit of an egg if you're making a cake or something. We don't smell food to see if it's okay to eat. We just read the back of a label on a packet. And we don't value food. We don't trust it. So instead of trusting it, we fear it. And instead of valuing it, we throw it away.
Ovdje imamo hranu -- koja je nekada bila centar, društvena jezgra grada -- u predgrađu. Nekada je to bio društveni događaj, kupovina i prodaja hrane. Sada je anonimno. Nekada smo kuhali; sada samo dodajemo vodu, ili malo jaja ako radite tortu ili nešto. Ne mirišemo hranu kako bismo osjetili je li je u redu jesti. Samo pročitamo oznaku na pozadini paketa. I ne cijenimo hranu. Ne vjerujemo joj. Umjesto da joj vjerujemo, strah nas je. Umjesto da je cijenimo, bacamo je.
One of the great ironies of modern food systems is that they've made the very thing they promised to make easier much harder. By making it possible to build cities anywhere and any place, they've actually distanced us from our most important relationship, which is that of us and nature. And also they've made us dependent on systems that only they can deliver, that, as we've seen, are unsustainable.
Jedna od većih ironija modernog sustava prehrane je da su učinili ono što su obećali da jednostavnije učine težim. Time što se omogućila izgradnja gradova bilo gdje i na bilo kojem mjestu, zapravo su nas distancirali od naše najvažnije veze, one između nas i prirode. Također učinili su nas ovisnima o sustavu kojeg samo oni mogu isporučiti, koji je, kao što smo vidjeli, neodrživ.
So what are we going to do about that? It's not a new question. 500 years ago it's what Thomas More was asking himself. This is the frontispiece of his book "Utopia." And it was a series of semi-independent city-states, if that sounds remotely familiar, a day's walk from one another where everyone was basically farming-mad, and grew vegetables in their back gardens, and ate communal meals together, and so on. And I think you could argue that food is a fundamental ordering principle of Utopia, even though More never framed it that way.
I što ćemo poduzeti u vezi s tim? To nije novo pitanje. Prije 500 godina Thomas Moore se zapitao. Ovo je naslovnica njegove knjige "Utopija". Riječ je o nizu polu-neovisnih gradova-država, ako to zvuči imalo poznato, na dan hoda udaljenosti jedan od drugoga gdje su svi bili ludi za uzgojem, i sadili su povrće u svojim vrtovima, jeli zajedno zajedničke obroke, i tako dalje. Mislim da možemo reći da je hrana temeljno uređivačko načelo Utopije. Iako Moore nikada to nije na taj način formulirao.
And here is another very famous "Utopian" vision, that of Ebenezer Howard, "The Garden City." Same idea: series of semi-independent city-states, little blobs of metropolitan stuff with arable land around, joined to one another by railway. And again, food could be said to be the ordering principle of his vision. It even got built, but nothing to do with this vision that Howard had. And that is the problem with these Utopian ideas, that they are Utopian.
Ovdje je još jedna verzija poznate utopijske vizije, ona Ebenezera Howardsa, "Vrtni grad". Ista zamisao. Niz polu-neovisnih gradova-država. Male tvorevine metropola s okolnom obradivom zemljom, povezane željeznicom. I ponovno, za hranu se može reći da je uređivačko načelo njegove vizije. Čak se i sagradila, ali nema nikakve veze s vizijom koju je Howard imao. I to je problem s tim utopijskim idejama, to što su utopijske.
Utopia was actually a word that Thomas Moore used deliberately. It was a kind of joke, because it's got a double derivation from the Greek. It can either mean a good place, or no place. Because it's an ideal. It's an imaginary thing. We can't have it. And I think, as a conceptual tool for thinking about the very deep problem of human dwelling, that makes it not much use. So I've come up with an alternative, which is Sitopia, from the ancient Greek, "sitos" for food, and "topos" for place.
Utopija je zapravo bila riječ koju je Thomas Moore namjerno koristio. To je bila vrsta šale. Jer ima duplo značenje u grčkom jeziku. Može označavati dobro mjesto ili nepostojanje mjesta. Jer je idealno. Imaginarna stvar. Ne možemo je imati. Mislim da nam, kao konceptualni alat za razmišljanje o stvarno dubokom problemu ljudskog stanovanja baš i nije od koristi. I tako sam smislila alternativu, Sitopiju, iz starog grčkog, "sitos" je za hranu, a "topos" za mjesto.
I believe we already live in Sitopia. We live in a world shaped by food, and if we realize that, we can use food as a really powerful tool -- a conceptual tool, design tool, to shape the world differently. So if we were to do that, what might Sitopia look like? Well I think it looks a bit like this. I have to use this slide. It's just the look on the face of the dog. But anyway, this is -- (Laughter) it's food at the center of life, at the center of family life, being celebrated, being enjoyed, people taking time for it. This is where food should be in our society.
Vjerujem da već živimo u Sitopiji. Živimo u svijetu oblikovanom hranom, i ako to shvatimo, možemo koristiti hranu kao vrlo snažan alat -- konceptualni alat, dizajnerski alat, da oblikujemo svijet drugačije. Ako to učinimo, kako bi Sitopija izgledala? Mislim da pomalo izgleda ovako. Morala sam uzeti ovu sliku. Samo zbog izgleda lica psa. Ipak, ovo je -- (smijeh) hrana je u središtu života, u središtu obiteljskog života, slavi se, uživa se, ljudi odvajaju vrijeme za nju. Na ovaj način hrana treba postojati u našem društvu.
But you can't have scenes like this unless you have people like this. By the way, these can be men as well. It's people who think about food, who think ahead, who plan, who can stare at a pile of raw vegetables and actually recognize them. We need these people. We're part of a network. Because without these kinds of people we can't have places like this. Here, I deliberately chose this because it is a man buying a vegetable. But networks, markets where food is being grown locally. It's common. It's fresh. It's part of the social life of the city. Because without that, you can't have this kind of place, food that is grown locally and also is part of the landscape, and is not just a zero-sum commodity off in some unseen hell-hole. Cows with a view. Steaming piles of humus. This is basically bringing the whole thing together.
Ali ne možete imati ovakve scene ako nemate ovakve ljude. Usput rečeno, ovo mogu biti i muškarci. Ljudi su ti koji razmišljaju o hrani, koji razmišljaju unaprijed, planiraju, koji mogu gledati u gomilu sirovog povrća i zaista ga prepoznati. Trebamo te ljude. Mi smo dio mreže. Jer bez takve vrste ljudi ne možemo imati ovakva mjesta. Ovo sam namjerno odabrala jer muškarac kupuje povrće. Ali mreže, tržnice na kojima se hrana lokalno uzgaja. To je zajedničko. Svježe je. Dio je društvenog života grada. Jer bez toga ne možete imati ovakva mjesta, hranu koja se lokalno uzgaja i koja je dio okruženja, i nije tek kompromisno rješenje, dolje iz neke nevidljive paklene rupe. Krave s pogledom. Gomila humusa koja se pari. To zapravo povezuje cijelu stvar.
And this is a community project I visited recently in Toronto. It's a greenhouse, where kids get told all about food and growing their own food. Here is a plant called Kevin, or maybe it's a plant belonging to a kid called Kevin. I don't know. But anyway, these kinds of projects that are trying to reconnect us with nature is extremely important.
Ovo je projekt zajednice koju sam nedavno posjetila u Torontu. To je staklenik, u kojem se djeci priča o hrani i uzgoju vlastite hrane. Ovdje je biljka koja se zove Kevin ili je možda biljka koja pripada djetetu koje se zove Kevin. Ne znam. Ali zapravo, ovakvi projekti kojima se trudi povezati nas s prirodom su nevjerojatno značajni.
So Sitopia, for me, is really a way of seeing. It's basically recognizing that Sitopia already exists in little pockets everywhere. The trick is to join them up, to use food as a way of seeing. And if we do that, we're going to stop seeing cities as big, metropolitan, unproductive blobs, like this. We're going to see them more like this, as part of the productive, organic framework of which they are inevitably a part, symbiotically connected. But of course, that's not a great image either, because we need not to be producing food like this anymore. We need to be thinking more about permaculture, which is why I think this image just sums up for me the kind of thinking we need to be doing. It's a re-conceptualization of the way food shapes our lives.
Tako je Sitopija, za mene zapravo način gledanja. To je u osnovi priznanje da Sitopija već postoji u malim džepovima svugdje. Trik ih je povezati, da se hrana koristi kao način gledanja. I ako to napravimo, prestat ćemo gledati gradove kao velike metropolske neproduktivne tvorevine, kao što je ova. Gledat ćemo ih više ovako, kao dio produktivnog organskog okvira u kojem čine neizbježan dio, simbiotski povezani. Ali naravno ni to nije sjajna slika. Jer ne trebamo proizvoditi hranu više na ovaj način. Trebamo više razmišljati o permakulturi. Zbog toga mislim da ova slika jednostavno sažimlje za mene način razmišljanja kojeg se moramo držati. To je rekonceptualizacija načina na koji hrana oblikuje naše živote.
The best image I know of this is from 650 years ago. It's Ambrogio Lorenzetti's "Allegory of Good Government." It's about the relationship between the city and the countryside. And I think the message of this is very clear. If the city looks after the country, the country will look after the city. And I want us to ask now, what would Ambrogio Lorenzetti paint if he painted this image today? What would an allegory of good government look like today? Because I think it's an urgent question. It's one we have to ask, and we have to start answering. We know we are what we eat. We need to realize that the world is also what we eat. But if we take that idea, we can use food as a really powerful tool to shape the world better. Thank you very much. (Applause)
Najbolja slika za koju znam je otprije 650 godina. Ovo je "Alegorija dobre vladavine" Ambrogia Lorenzettija. Riječ je o vezi grada i sela. Mislim da je poruka vrlo jasna. Ako se grad brine o selu, selo će se brinuti o gradu. Želim da se sada upitamo što bi Ambrogio Lorenzetti naslikao da slika ovaj prikaz danas. Kako bi alegorija dobre vladavine danas izgledala? Jer mislim da je to goruće pitanje. Ono je koje si moramo postaviti, I moramo početi odgovarati. Znamo da smo ono što jedemo. Trebamo shvatiti da je i svijet ono što jedemo. I ako prihvatimo tu ideju, možemo koristiti hranu kao vrlo snažan alat da oblikujemo svijet nabolje. Puno vam hvala. (Pljesak)