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 nahraniti grad? To je jedno od najvećih pitanja našeg vremena. Ipak, ono se retko postavlja. Uzimamo zdravo za gotovo to da, kada uđemo u prodavnicu ili restoran, ili u foaje pozorišta za nekih sat vremena, tamo nas čeka hrana koja je magično došla od nekud.
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 kada pomislite da svakog dana, za grad veličine Londona, dovoljna količina hrane mora da se proizvede, da se transportuje, kupi i proda, skuva, pojede i odbaci, i da nešto slično tome mora de se desi svaki dan za svaki grad na Zemlji, neverovatno je da se gradovi uopšte hrane.
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 ovakvim mestima kao da su oni najprirodnija stvar na svetu, zaboravljajući da, pošto smo životinje i moramo da jedemo, zapravo zavisimo od prirode baš kao što su i naši preci zavisili. Kako se sve više nas seli u gradove, sve više se priroda transformiše u neverovatne predele kao što je ovaj iza mene, to je polje soje u Mata Grosu u Brazilu, kako bismo se nahranili. Ovo su izuzetni predeli. Ali malo nas ih uopšte 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.
Štaviše, ovi predeli ne služe samo za našu ishranu. Kako se sve više nas seli u gradove, više nas jede meso tako da trećina godišnje proizvodnje žita na svetu služi za ishranu životinja, a ne nas ljudskih životinja. I znajući da je potrebno tri puta više žita - zapravo deset puta više žita - da se nahrani jedan čovek ako je ono prvo prošlo kroz životinju, onda to nije baš efikasan način da se nahranimo.
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.
To je rastući problem. Procenjeno je da će do 2050. duplo više nas živeti u gradovima. Takođe je procenjeno da će se konzumirati duplo više mesa i mlečnih proizvoda. Tako da meso i urbanizam rastu ruku pod ruku. To će predstavljati ogroman problem. Nahraniti šest milijardi gladnih mesojeda do 2050. To je velik problem. Zapravo, ako nastavimo ovako, to je problem koji verovatno nećemo biti spospobni da rešimo.
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.
Svakog dana se izgubi 19 miliona hektara prašuma da bi se napravila obradiva zemlja. Iako u isto vreme gubimo istu količinu postojećih obradivih površina zbog salinizacije i erozije. Veoma smo gladni za fosilnim gorivima, takođe. Potrebno je otprilike 10 kalorija da bi se proizvela svaka kalorija hrane koju konzumiramo na zapadu. Iako prozvodimo hranu po visokoj ceni, mi je zapravo ne cenimo. Trenutno se polovina hrane proizvedene u SAD baci. Na kraju ovog dugog procesa, ne uspevamo ni da pravilno nahranimo planetu. Milijarda ljudi je gojazna, dok milijarda ljudi gladuje. Ništa od toga nema mnogo 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.
Kada pomislite da 80% svetske trgovine hranom kontroliše samo 5 multinacionalnih korporacija, to je jeziva slika. Kako se selimo u gradove, svet prihvata zapadnjački načih ishrane. Ako pogledamo u budućnost, to je neodrživ način ishrane.
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 dospeli ovde? I što je važnije, šta ćemo da uradimo u vezi s tim? Pa, da prvo odgovorim na malo lakše pitanje, rekla bih da je početak ovog procesa pre 10 000 godina. Na antičkom Bliskom istoku, u oblasti Plodnog Polumeseca (Mesopotamija). Jer kao što vidite bila je oblika polumeseca. I bila je plodna. I na tom mestu, pre oko 10 000 godina nastala su dva izuzetna otkrića, poljoprivreda i urbanizam, otprilike na istom mestu, u isto vreme.
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.
Ovo nije slučajnost. Jer poljoprivreda i gradovi su povezani. Potrebni su jedno drugom. Naši antički preci su prvi otkrili žito i to je bio dovoljno velik izvor hrane, i dovoljno stabilan da izdržava stalna naselja. I kada pogledamo kakva su bila ta naselja, vidimo da su bila zbijena. Bila su okružena plodnom zemljom a veliki hramovi su dominirali, kao ovaj u Uru, koji su ustvari bili produhovljeni 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 organizovali žetve, sakupljali žito, nudili ga bogovima i onda davali ljudima žito koje bogovi nisu pojeli. Dakle, recimo da se sav duhovni i fizički život ovih gradova vrteo oko žita i žetve koja ih je održavala. Ustvari, to je tako bilo u svakom antičkom gradu. Ali naravno, nisu svi bili tako mali. Rim je imao oko milion stanovnika do prvog veka nove ere. Kako se hranio jedan ovakav grad? Odgovor je ono što nazivam "antički put 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.
Za početak, Rim je imao pristup moru, što je omogućavalo da uvozi hranu iz veoma dalekih krajeva. Ovo je bio jedini način da se ovo uradi u antičkom svetu, jer je bilo veoma teško transportovati hranu putevima koji su bili neravni. A očigledno je hrana brzo trošena. Tako je Rim vešto izvojevao rat u Kartagini i Egiptu, samo da bi se dočepao njihovih rezervi žita. Ustvari, moglo bi se reći da je širenje Carstva ustvari bilo jedan dug, spor militarizovani pohod u kupovinu. (smeh) Ustvari - volim ovu činjenicu, moram da je pomenem: Rim je ustvari uvozio ostrige iz Londona u jednom trenutku. 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.
Tako je Rim oblikovao svoje zaleđe kroz svoj apetit. Interesantno je da se još nešto desilo u pre-industrijskom svetu. Ako pogledamo mapu Londona iz sedamnaestog veka, vidimo da žito dolazi Temzom, na dnu ove mape. Znači, žitne pijace su bile na jugu grada. A putevi koji vode od njih do Čipsajda (Cheapside), što je bila glavna pijaca, su takođe bili žitne pijace.
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 ime jedne od tih ulica, Bread Street (Ulica Hleba), jasno vam je šta se tu događalo pre 300 godina. I naravno, isto važi za ribu. Riba je takođe dolazila rekom. Ista stvar. Naravno, čuveni Bilingsgejt (Billingsgate) je prva londonska riblja pijaca, koja je na tom mestu radila do polovine osamdesetih. Što je izuzetno, kad razmislite. Svi su lutali okolo sa mobilnim telefonima koji su izgledali kao cigle a smrdljiva riba se zadesila tu 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 stvari u vezi s hranom u gradovima: kada se ustanove putevi kojima dolazi, veoma retko se menjaju. Meso je sasvim drugačija priča jer, naravno, životinje su mogle da ušetaju u grad. Veoma mnogo mesa je u London dolazilo sa severozapada, iz Škotske i Velsa. Dolazilo je, stizalo u grad sa severozapada, i zato se Smitfild (Smithfield), poznata londonska mesna pijaca, nalazila tamo. Živina je dolazila iz Istočne Anglije, sa severoistoka. Pomalo se osećam kao na vremenskoj prognozi. Kako god. Ptice su dolazile sa nogama zaštićenim malim platnenim cipelama. I kada bi stigle u istočni kraj Čipsajda, tu bi bile prodate. Zato se zove Poultry (živina).
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.
Ustvari, ako biste pogledali mapu bilo kog grada pre industrijskog doba, videli biste kuda je hrana dolazila. Možete stvarno videti kako je fizički oblikovan hranom, i čitajući imena ulica, koja daju dosta znakova. Friday Street (Ulica petka), u ranijem životu, je ulica gde ste kupovali ribu petkom. Ali morate je zamisliti punu hrane. Jer su ulice i javna mesta bila jedina mesta gde je hrana prodavana i kupovana.
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.
Ako pogledamo sliku Smitfilda iz 1830. vidite da bi bilo veoma teško živeti u ovakvom gradu i ne znati odakle dolazi vaša hrana. Zapravo, ako ste ručali nedeljom, velike su šanse bile da je vaš ručak mukao i blejao ispred vašeg prozora samo tri dana ranije. Ovo je očigledno bio organski grad, deo organskog ciklusa. I onda deset godina kasnije sve se promenilo.
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 Železnice iz 1840. Kao što vidite, neki od najranijih putnika bile su svinje i ovce. Odjednom ove životinje više ne ulaze u pijacu. Kolju ih van vidokruga i van svesti, negde u selima. A u gradove dolaze vozom. Ovo menja sve. Za početak, omogućava po prvi put nastajanje gradova, bilo koje veličine i oblika, bilo gde. Gradovi su nekada bili ograničeni geografijom: morali su da dopreme hranu veoma zahtevnim fizičkim sredstvima. Najednom su efektno oslobođeni 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 videti iz ovih mapa Londona, za 90 godina od postanka voza, od male grudve koju je prilično lako nahraniti, životinjama koje same dolaze, i slično, postali su veliko razmetanje koje bi bilo veoma, veoma teško nahraniti peške, bilo da se radi o životinjama ili ljudima. To je naravno bio samo početak. Posle vozova došli su automobili. I ovde je stvarno kraj ovog procesa. To je konačno odvajanje grada od bilo kakve očigledne veze sa 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.
To je grad lišen mirisa, lišen nereda i sigurno lišen ljudi. Jer niko ne bi ni pomišljao da šeta u takvom okruženju. Ustvari, do hrane su dolazili tako što bi seli u svoja kola, odvezli se do neke kutije na periferiji, vratili se sa hranom za nedelju dana i pitali se šta će, zaboga, da rade s tim. I ovo je zapravo trenutak kada se naša veza, sa hranom i sa gradovima, potpuno menja.
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.
Imamo hranu - koja je bila centar, društvena srž grada - na periferiji. Kupovina i prodaja hrane bila je društveni događaj. Sada je anonimna. Nekada smo kuvali; sada samo dodamo vodu, ili pokoje jaje, ako pravite tortu ili nešto drugo. Ne mirišemo hranu da vidimo da li je dobra za jelo. Samo pročitamo deklaraciju na pozadini pakovanja. I ne cenimo hranu. Ne verujemo joj. Umesto da joj verujemo, mi je se bojimo. I umesto da je cenimo, mi je bacamo.
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 najvećih ironija modernih sistema hrane je ta da su ono što su obećali da će olakšati, ustvari otežali. Omogućivši izgradnju gradova bilo gde, na bilo kom mestu, ustvari su nas udaljili od naše najvažnije veze, a to je naša veza sa prirodom. I napravili su nas zavisnim od sistema koje jedino oni mogu održati, a koji su, videli smo, neodrživi.
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 šta ćemo da uradimo u vezi sa tim? Ovo nije novo pitanje. Tomas Mor (Thomas More) se pre 500 godina isto ovo pitao. To je lice njegove knjige "Utopija". To je bio niz polu-nezavisnih gradova-država, ako to zvuči donekle poznato, na dan hoda jedan od drugog, gde su svi bili ludi za poljoprivredom, gajili su povrće u svojim dvorištima, i jeli zajednička jela, itd. I mislim da može da se tvrdi da je hrana osnovni princip uređenja Utopije. Iako Mor nikada to nije na taj način postavio.
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.
Evo još jedne veoma poznate "Utopijske" vizije, "The Garden City" od Ebenezera Hauarda (Ebenezer Howard). Ista ideja. Niz polu-nezavisnih gradova-država. Male grudve gradova sa obradivom zemljom okolo, povezane međusobno prugom. I opet, moglo bi se reći da je hrana princip uređenja u ovoj viziji. Čak je i izgrađena, ali nema nikakve veze sa Hauardovom vizijom. I to je problem sa ovim utopijskim idejama, 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 reč koju je Tomas Mor koristio namerno. To je bila neka šala. Ima dvostruko poreklo iz grčkog. Može da znači dobro mesto ili nikakvo mesto. Jer to je ideal. Imaginarna stvar. Ne možemo je imati. I mislim, kao konceptualni alat za razmišljanje o veoma dubokom problemu ljudskog stanovanja, nije od neke koristi. Tako sam smislila alternativu, Sitopiju, od starogrčkog "sitos" za hranu i "topos" za mesto.
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.
Mislim da već živimo u Sitopiji. Živimo u svetu koji je oblikovan hranom, i ako to shvatimo, možemo iskoristiti hranu kao veoma moćan alat - konceptualni alat, alat dizajna, za drugačije oblikovanje sveta. Dakle, da možemo to da uradimo, kako bi Sitopia izgledala? Mislim da izgleda ovako nekako. Moram da upotrebim ovaj slajd. Taj izraz lica ovog psa. Ali, ovo je - (smeh) hrana je u centru života, u centru porodičnog života, slavi se, uživa se u njoj, ljudi odvajaju vreme za hranu. To je mesto gde bi hrana trebalo da se nalazi 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 prizore ako nemate ovakve ljude. Inače, ovo mogu biti i muškarci. To su ljudi koji razmišljaju o hrani, koji razmišljaju unapred, planiraju, koji mogu da zure u gomilu povrća i da je prepoznaju. Potrebni su nam takvi ljudi. Mi smo deo mreže. Jer bez ovakvih ljudi ne možemo imati ovakva mesta. Namerno sam izabrala ovo jer jedan muškarac kupuje povrće. Ali mreže, pijace gde se hrana gaji na lokalnom nivou. Zajedničko je. Sveže je. Deo je društvenog života grada. Jer bez toga ne možete imati ovakvo mesto, hranu koja se gaji lokalno ali je i deo predela, a nije samo roba kao kompromisno rešenje negde bogu iza nogu. Krave sa pogledom. Gomile humusa koji se puši. Ovo ustvari sklapa celu 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 projekat jedne zajednice koju sam nedavno posetila u Torontu. To je staklena bašta gde se deci priča sve o hrani i gajenju svoje hrane. Ovo je biljka koja se zove Kevin, ili možda biljka koja pripada klincu koji se zove Kevin, ne znam. U svakom slučaju, ovakvi projekti koji pokušavaju da nas ponovo spoje sa prirodom su veoma važni.
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.
Za mene je Sitopia način gledanja. Treba prepoznati da Sitopia već postoji u malim krajevima svuda. Trik je u tome da se povežu, da se hrana koristi kao način posmatranja. I ako to uradimo, prestaćemo da gledamo gradove kao velike neproduktivne grudve, kao što je ova. Videćemo ih ovako, kao deo produktivne organske mreže čiji su neizbežni deo, simbiotski povezani. Ali naravno, ni to nije najbolja slika. Jer moramo prestati da proizvodimo ovakvu hranu. Trebalo bi da razmišljamo o permakulturi. Zato mislim da ova slika sumira, po meni, način razmišljanja koji na je potreban. 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 ovoga za koju znam je od pre 650 godina. "Alegorija dobre vlade", od Ambrozija Lorencetija (Ambrogio Lorenzetti). O vezi između grada i sela. Mislim da je poruka ovoga veoma jasna. Ako grad vodi računa o selu, selo će voditi računa o gradu. Želim da pitam šta bi Ambrozije Lorenceti naslikao da je slikao ovu sliku danas. Kako bi alegorija dobre vlade izgledala danas? Mislim da je to hitno pitanje. Koje moramo da pitamo i moramo početi da odgovaramo. Znamo da smo ono što jedemo. Moramo da shvatimo da je i svet ono što jedemo. I ako prihvatimo tu ideju, možemo koristiti hranu kao moćan alat da bolje oblikujemo svet. Mnogo vam hvala. (aplauz)