Unyanserte Fairtradeløfter, unyansert Fairtradekritikk

Det følgende ble skrevet som et debattinnlegg på dagbladet.no (reaksjon på dette og dette) men ble antagelg alt for langt til at noen orket lese det og druknet dermed raskt i mengden. Derfor legger jeg det ut her og håper en eller to til får det med seg.

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La meg først gjøre det klar at jeg ikke har sett Erling Borgens siste og mye omtalte dokumentar da jeg befinner meg i utlandet. Årsaken til det er at jeg er i gang med et doktorgradsprosjekt om bananproduksjon på St. Vincent i Karibia. Her er implementeringen av Fairtradekriterier i produksjonen et av aspektene jeg forsker på. Jeg kan legge til at jeg fra tidligere feltarbeid har god kjennskap til srilankiske teplantasjer, om enn ikke Fairtradesertifiserte plantasjer. Jeg vet godt hvor kummerlige forhold folk lever under på disse plantasjene og hvor mye det er å ta tak i. Jeg vet også godt hvordan majoriteten av arbeiderne på disse plantasjene (høylandstamiler, også kalt tetamiler i Norge) har vært systematisk diskriminert av den srilankiske staten, men det er en annen historie.

Jeg kan altså ikke uttale meg om Borgens dokumentar eller om Fairtradesertifiserte teplantasjer, men jeg vil si noe om det jeg oppfatter som et generelt problem i kritikk av Fairtrade, nemlig at den har en tendens til å bli unyansert og sensasjonspreget.

En del av problemet ligger i forventningene som skapes av markedsførerne av Fairtrade. Besøker man ulike nasjonale og internasjonale Fairtradesider på nett (f.eks. www.maxhavelaar.no, www.fairtrade.org.uk og www.fairtrade.net) kan man lese om produsenter som har løftet seg selv ut av den ytterste fattigdom gjennom Fairtrade – produsenter som har fått sjansen til å skape nye liv for seg selv og sine nærmeste. De ser lykkelige ut. Akkurat som kritikerne av Fairtrade, gjør heller ikke markedsførerne mye for å nyansere. Og selv om suksesshistorier helt klart finnes vil jeg gjette at en betydelig andel Fairtradeprodusenter ikke føler et drastisk løft i sin livskvalitet. Det kan det være mange grunner til.

Det hadde ikke vært vanskelig å lage en TV-dokumentar eller avisartikkel som slakter Fairtradeproduksjon av bananer i Karibia dersom man skulle ønske det. Faktisk er det en god mulighet for at en stor andel av et tilfeldig utvalg bananbønder her på St. Vincent, mer eller mindre uoppfordret vil kritisere Fairtrade. Hvorfor?

Til en viss grad er det et PR-problem og kunnskapsproblem – mange bananbønder vet rett og slett ikke hva Fairtrade gjør for dem. Dette fordi det foregår mye arbeid i kulissene opp mot andre beslutningstagere. Fairtrade har gått i bresjen for å restrukturere øyas bananindustri på en måte som vil gi bøndene mer innflytelse, men møter motstand hos aktører, deriblant politikere, som er redd for å miste makt og inntektsgrunnlag. Samtidig har ikke den lokale Fairtradeorganisasjonen lyktes godt nok i å opplyse bøndene om de sosiale prosjektene de har intiert.

Til en viss grad handler det om at bøndene ikke verdsetter mulighetene Fairtrade har skapt for dem. På St. Vincent har Fairtrade opprettet sosiale sikkerhetsnett i form av pensjonsfond og helseplan for sine medlemmer, men oppslutningen er lunken blant bønder som helst vil ha den sosiale bonusen "cash in hand". Utfordringen ligger i å dra i gang sosiale prosjekter som Fairtradeprodusentene selv umiddelbart anerkjenner verdien i.

Til en viss grad handler det om små markedsandeler og store forventninger fra bøndenes side. Også på St. Vincent har den lokale Fairtradeorganisasjonen skapt store forventninger om hva de kan få til, det for å få med seg bøndene på laget. Det fungerte bra, bøndene sluttet seg til og jobbet med å implementere Fairtradekriteriene. Men parallelt med dette har det dukket opp andre utfordringer i produksjonsprosessen, i form av krav til GlobalGAP-sertifisering (www.globalgap.org) og krav fra spesifikke europeiske oppkjøpere. Problemer med å tilfresstille den type krav har gjort at et stort antall bønder har mistet retten til å eksportere bananer. Da har det lite å si at de er Fairtradesertifiserte. Frafallet av bønder gir synkende eksport nasjonalt og det har resultert i mindre Fairtradepenger kommer de gjenværende bøndene til gode. Kort oppsummert: Fairtrade sitter igjen med mindre gjennomslagkraft pga krav rettet mot bøndene fra andre aktører. (Det kan legges til at noen bananbønder ikke vet å skille Fairtradekriterier fra andre kriterier og har en tendens til å gi Fairtrade skylda for alt som går galt. I virkeligheten jobber Fairtradeorganisasjonen på St. Vincent aktivt for å hjelpe bøndene med å oppnå GlobalGAP-sertifisering).

Dette siste punktet mistenker jeg å være et problem som gjelder Fairtradeprodusenter andre steder også. Små markedsandeler betyr liten gjennomslagskraft. Men som forbruker må man skjønne at ting i alle fall ikke blir bedre av å la være å kjøpe Fairtrade. Det blir som å tro at det kan bli mer SV-politikk i regjering av å slutte å stemme SV.

Fairtrade på St. Vincent har altså sine problemer å stri med, og slik er det ganske sikkert med Fairtrade andre steder også. Målt opp mot tildels urealistiske forventninger skapt av Fairtrades markedsførere kan tilkortkommenhetene reflektere dårlig tilbake på Fairtradesystemet. Jeg tror det er viktig å være ælig med forbrukerne. Fairtrade er ikke ”Løsningen”. Faitrade er ikke tryllestaven som nærmest magisk og omkostningsløst kan mane fram harmoniske og rettferdige handelsrelasjoner mellom Nord og Sør. Ingen skal innbille seg det.

Fairtradesystemet er ikke feilfritt og det er viktig at kritiske røster kommer med konstruktive innspill i forhold til hvordan det kan gjøres bedre. Og det er viktig at Fairtradeapparatet er åpent for slike innspill. I Norge er vi heldige som har Ragnhild Hammer i vår nasjonale Fairtradeorganisasjon. Hun har den egenskapen.

Men om ikke Fairtrade er ”Løsningen” så er det ganske sikkert at vi ved å kjøpe Fairtrademerkede produkter kan gjøre mye bra for marginaliserte produsenter, samtidig som vi jobber med å fjerne verdens strukturelle skjevheter. Det går an å ha to tanker i hodet samtidig.

Når man snakker med folk her på St. Vincent er det én ting nærmest ingen benekter og det er at uten Fairtrade hadde det vært slutt på bananeksporten til Europa for lenge siden. Men om du vil lage en kritisk dokumentar utelater du selvfølgelig den biten.

I'm growing bananas!

That's right, a lame play with words: "growing" not "going". I am guessing it makes me the only Norwegian banana farmer, but do tell me if you know of others.

I've been meaning to tell you about this for a while, but you know how it is. Stuff happens and then more stuff happens and then the updates you intend to write become outdated before they're even written. But that's ok. I guess I'll give you a run-down on the progress of the field work over the last month or so.

I have spent a fair bit of time watching Gideon (head of the Mespo Fairtrade group) and his two hired workers (nicknamed Bush and Bushy (really!)), go about their business in the fields. Pruning, deflowering, tagging, detrashing, propping, desuckering, planting, harvesting, washing, boxing etc. etc. I've been watching them work their asses off while going at them with questions about what they're doing as well as questions about the industry more generally. That is, Gideon has been the target for most of my curiosity seeing as he 1) speaks an English I have no difficulties understanding and 2) seems willing to put up with me for hours on end. He's been a tremendous resource.

I had, however, been hoping for a more "hands on approach" because I believe in learning by doing, but also as I want to help out - to give something in return for what I'm getting. The problem, of course, is that I would need training which I guess would make me even more of a burden. So I've been helping out with the kind of stuff that demands little in terms of brains or experience, that is carrying banana suckers during planting of new areas, cutting down old and withered leaves with a machete, or bagging bananas during harvest. Yet most of the time, I am just tagging along with a camera.

One day, though, Gideon surprised me by suggesting I could plant and be in charge of a small section of the field. About 20 plants or so. I loved the idea. He said he would have Bushy dig the holes, but I said that if it was going to be my section then I would have to dig the holes my self. When the day came Gideon helped me measure up the field and mark the holes, then dug a hole about one meter deep, to show me how it's done. He handed over the scoop, a narrow-snouted shovel, and I went at it. Two holes later I was dizzy, soaked in sweat, had a blistering headache, and felt like lying down to sleep. I slowed down, drank large amounts of water between each hole and was able to get seven more holes dug that day. Coming home I had a fairly large, burst blister in my right hand to show for it and my respect for the physicality of banana farming was at a new level. A bonus: the blister has, I believe, as a proof of my willingness to participate in the work, gained me some respect with the farmers. While they make friendly jeers, I sense approval.


I returned to Gideons farm a few days later to finish up digging, and with a much improved technique, this time it went better. Since then I have planted suckers - Gideon and I combed the fields for the best ones, which I then carried back to my section before I dipped their roots in insectide, popped them in their holes and packed soil around. I have also been back to apply fertilizer, but now there's not much to be done for a while, except for watching them grow. Gideon says the plants are looking good, and I trust he knows what he's talking about. The best part of this project is that the fruit should be ready for harvest before we leave the island. That is, barring extreme weather and disease.

Being able to visit Gideon is great, but I think it is a problem that I haven't been able observe that many other farmers while their working, and from what I understand farmers don't necessarily agree on all points about how to run a farm (no big surprise really, although a lot is being attempted standardized through schemes such as GlobalGAP). I've been pondering how to gain access to more people, and how to strike a balance between depth and breadth in my enquiries. Although I still believe I need to visit Gideon and a handful of others for the in depth understanding of practices and issues regarding conformance to standards, I am now thinking that I will spend a good deal of time with extension officers to get bigger picture.

Extension officers (or banana development officers as their officially called) are people on the payroll either of the Ministry of Agriculture or the St. Vincent Banana Growers' Association (SVBGA), whos task it is to fascilitate farmers mainly with the technical aspects of their work. These days a major concern is helping the farmers becoming GlobalGAP compliant and the extension officers therefore, know the demands of GlobalGAP as well as anyone. By tagging along with them I will be able to meet farmers all over the island and understand better their shared as well as unique concerns.

I made a couple of trips with some of them last week as they were preparing farmers for upcoming GlobalGAP audits. As it is, the Vincentian banana industry is being audited for GlobalGAP compliance by National Britannia right now, starting yesterday and lasting until November 7th. A number of farmers have been chosen for audits by NB, but have been alerted ahead of time so that the extension officers are able to focus their efforts on these chosen ones. I am hoping the NB auditors will allow me to observe a few of the audits and let me interview them afterwards, although I have heard they are kind of restrictive about letting people up close. I have made my case and have little to do now except wait for the go-ahead. Fingers crossed.

Of our very un-Vincentian, and now one year old rash-battling daughter

As some of you have guessed - in the case of lacking blog updates no news really is good news. At least partly. I've been busy. Too busy to bother with the blog. But the last few weeks we have also been worrying about Ella and paid 6 visits to doctors. I'll give you an update on the fieldwork soon, but I need to write about Ella first, she is after all much more important than the fieldwork.

About four weeks ago we noticed a rash on Ella's left forearm. Figuring it was eczema, something I was bothered with a lot when I was younger, we didn't think too much of it. When it only got worse, however, we headed over to the health center here in Mespo, where a nurse advised us to see a doctor. She gave us a referral to the one at the Richland Park clinic (there is no resident doctor in Mespo) and we went to see him the next day. Richland Park is, according to one of my informants, the largest village on the island, and the home of about 2000 of the 8000 residents in the Marriaqua valley. It seemed as if a fair number of them were at the clinic that day and we braced ourselves as we entered the waiting room, yet we didn't have to wait for long. The flip side of that coin was that the doctor - a Cuban man I believe, didn't see us for long either. He asked a couple of questions, inspected Ella briefly, gave us a prescription for hydrocortisone cream and we were on our way out.

We used the cream for a few days but saw no sign of improvement so Silje took Ella to the health center in Mespo again and this time there was a doctor present at the clinic there. He gave us a new prescription, for Fucidin, and we used that for a couple of days, still seeing no sign of improvement. On the contrary, the rash seemed to be spreading to her shoulder, chest and right arm. Remembering stories of agressive flesh-eating bacteria, we went to see the Mespo doctor again and had to wait for nearly three hours only to get a referral to a third doctor - a pediatrician and a dear friend of his. Dr. Datta is a small, Indian lady, working at a private clinic in Kingstown. She was very thorough, asking for a lot of background information, before carefully studying the rashes and giving Ella a prescription for systemic antibiotics as well as an anti-fungal liquid. (Happily, Ella loved the medicines and would look at us with anticipation when we went to get them in the fridge).

Yet, when after 36 hours Datta's medicines still did not seem to have an effect we began to freak out just a tiny bit. After all, these were some nasty looking rashes. We freaked out enough, anyway, that I called my cousin Eline in Norway- a doctor educated in Australia who has served with Médecins sans Frontières, working with malnourished children in Burkina Faso. Although it was hard for her to do a diagnosis based on what I told her and the pictures I e-mailed, what she said made us feel more confident that Datta had all bases covered. And sure enough, the next day the rashes began to fade and by the end of the cure they were all gone. Datta gave us the thumbs up on the follow-up appointment.


A digression: the phrase "un-Vincentian daughter" used in the title is a reference, among other things, to Ella's waiting room behavior. Vincentian kids are extremely well behaved in settings such as these. That is, they tend to sit still in a lap, however long it takes. Ella, on the other hand, is a whirlwind. She is here, there and everywhere, doing all those things Vincentian kids get raps on their fingers for, like picking up pebbles and rocks and sitting down in the dirt (the waiting room in Mespo is actually outside). Vincentian mothers, on their part, are not afraid to reprimand us, or more likely Silje, sternly when Ella is doing something along this line. "Dirty, dirty, dirty", they will say, or "Baby hands dirty!". And to digress even more, they are also very concerned about not letting their children get wet. At the slightest sign of rain they will seek shelter. We, on the other hand are, in their eyes, clearly not sufficiently concerned about avoiding rain. "The baby mustn't get wet!", they will say. Or "Get the baby out of the rain!".

Back to irritated skin. For a week or so, Ella seemed to be all fine again, but then, after a visit to the beach on her birthday (wohoo!!), we noted a new angry-looking rash, this time on her private parts. We paid Dr. Datta another visit today and she needed only a glance to establish that we, as expected were dealing with a fungal infection. So Ella is back on medicines, which for her at any rate is a treat, and we are wondering whether we should stay clear of the beach - one of the few places of recreation we have.


To round things off, Ella Leona's birthday, despite of the fungal aftermath, was a happy day. I took the day off and we paid a visit to the botanical garden in Kingstown before heading to the beach. We had dinner at the French Verandah, a semi-classy and touristy place in Villa, before buying a cake at a bakery which we took home and adorned with candles and Norwegian flags, (sent us from Ella's grandparents in Asker) and letting Ella lose on it. Aparently she likes chocolate cake. Today she pointed enthusiastically at the cakes in the counter at the supermarket.

Floating along

Back when I worked for EF High School Year, interviewing and screening 15 and 16 year olds who applied to be exchange students, I used to draw them a diagram looking somewhat like this:

It was supposed to demonstrate the mood swings one is likely to experience throughout the exchange year. First is what we called "the honeymoon" where everything is fun and like a holiday, but this is usually followed by an experience of culture shock and home sickness. We would tell the kids that with the right attitude and some endurance there would be better times again - this is ideally where they will start to feel at home in the community, they are no longer "news" to the local students and life has gained a sense of normalcy. Another downturn usually follows at Christmas, but then things pick up again and with the new year comes integration on another level. And then, alas, spring arrives and it is about time to go home, and most exchange students will feel ambivalent or conflicted about that.

I felt this diagram applied well to my own experience as an exchange student in Texas in 95/96. I am not sure how well it depicts my experiences as an anthropologist, although in a sense the goal of both experiences is the same: to understand and become part of another way of life. The fundamental difference, of course, is that the anthropologist has to be much more methodical in his attempts at integration (a paradox?) and then in turn relate this experience to a wider debate within the discipline, and hopefully add something of value to that debate. I have written about this before, but the consequences of this ultimate goal in terms of the need to document daily activities (writing field notes, taping conversations, filming and photographing etc. etc.) in a sense works to distance the anthropologist from the community of which he wants to be part. We are professional assimilators and professional outsiders at the same time. Schizophrenic, indeed. I guess that what I'm getting at is that this double way of being makes for two different sets of waves: 1) personal well-being and 2) progression of fieldwork. Throw into the mix a third dimension which is the well-being of ones family and the result is a more erratic looking set of waves - the composite of the three dimensions, which I suppose would look more like this:

These three dimensions are, of course, largelly, though not completely, functions of one another. The question "how are you doing" will necessarily involve tapping into all three dimension. So how am I doing? If baseline is zero and the waves can go from -5 to 5, right now I would say zero (the composite of one on "dimension 1", two on "dimension 2" and a negative three on "dimension 3"). The biggest drag at the moment is that the days can get very lonely and boring for Silje and Ella. Finding stuff for them to do while I am gone during the day is proving to be a challenge. The weather is too hot and humid to stay outside much, and there's really not much to do outside anyway. You see a lot of people hanging on the roadside, but not many women and kids. Many children go to preschool and Silje and Ella have visited the local one a few times. It is crowded, under staffed, loud and hot. Ella, though she likes to meet other kids, does not last long and the staff has no time to talk to Silje. What we need to find is a friendly housewife, preferably with small kids, who would like visits, or come to our place a few times a week. The search is on.

I personally don't mind the lack of socializing as much as Silje. Back home I'm a bit of a couch potato anyway and tend not to see a whole lot of people and do a whole lot of stuff outside of work. Socializing, of course, is at this point my work and I have to admit that it can be difficult for me to be that person. There are days when I'd rather stay at home and watch CNN. But Silje is good at reminding me why I'm here. And I've been lucky, too. I've met and befriended some very helpful people, among them the head of the local Fairtrade unit who grows bananas himself. I've spent a week or so at his farm now, mainly watching him work and talking to him about the stuff he does. He is good at explaining and doesn't seem to tire of me asking every question that pops into my mind. For me, the challenge is to keep on pushing in order to come to know more people. I've still got a good ways to go.

Daddy's new jeep

I have owned two cars in my life. The first one was a Volvo 244GLE '80 which I bought in California in 2000 when I did my solo road trip across America. The second one is the one you see here, a flame painted Suzuki Escudo (called Vitara in Europe) '94 with attitude. Though the slogans "Eat your heart out" and "Yeh you still talk" perhaps would not have been my top choices, the jeep is a actually a pretty sensible choice considering the pothole-riddled, steep and winding roads it will be traversing. The price tag was $20,000 ECD (41,000 NOK/8000 USD) and knowing next to nothing about cars I can't really say if it was fair or not, though I like to think it was. A friend of ours had a look at it before we made the deal and was of the opinion that we should move quickly.

Finding the car was easy, the seller being a friend of the proprietor of a restaurant close to our apartment. And after eventually having obtained enough cash through ATM-withdrawals, I went with the now previous owner to Kingstown on Thursday, to do the paperwork. I had braced myself for another brutal encounter with bureaucracy, but was pleasantly surprised. The transfer of ownership and the purchase of insurance took no more than an hour and a half, and I could soon drive home as the proud owner of the vehicle. (I had sorted out the driver's licence earlier, but that too is a breeze. You're automatically issued a license valid for 6 months upon showing a foreign license and paying 75 ECD). I went back to Mespo, picked up Sijle and Ella and we celebrated by going to the beach.

Let me point out a funny detail. I think many Norwegians have been amused at how the Helly Hansen brand suddenly became hot in the American hip-hop industry. We've been surprised to see "Helly Hansen" printed on a number of jeep spare wheels in St. Vincent. Why, I do not know. And I have no idea why it is written on the side of our car, but there it is nonetheless, to remind us of home.

The idea of driving in St. Vincent had me a little on edge at first. The roads can be narrow, and like I said, peppered with potholes, but my biggest concern was the reckless driving of some of the van drivers. A taxi driver who took us to Mespo a couple of weeks ago pointed out a house to us where a van had plowed through the wall, into the bedroom one early morning a few days earlier. (Luckily, the people who had slept there were in the bathroom and no one were seriously injured). Not only do the van drivers go fast, they tend to drive in the middle of the road as well, not necessarily showing any sense of urgency in returning to their own half of the road when approaching oncoming traffic. On top of that comes driving on the left side, although when it comes to that I do have some experience from New Zealand and India. Well, the first trips had me on edge, but I'm getting the hang of this now, running slalom between potholes, vans and goats.

BTW: Yesterday we went ahead and bought a child seat for Ella and she seems quite happy to use it.

Back online

We're beginning to settle in in our new apartment in Mespo. Most importantly perhaps, we're back online after some surprisingly quick service from the phone company (which had to come around and install a land line). We have also bought a washing machine, though it turned out to be a bit tricky to install and a guy had to come and punch a few holes in the walls. When it was time to test it it was leaking heavily from the water intake hose and the plumber had to come back to fix it. It is working fine now though, which is a relief at the rate we're sweating out our clothes.

There has been a lot of minor stuff to deal with in the apartment as well, like a leaking toilet, quarrelsome locks on the windows, some lacking furniture, etc. etc., but our landlords have been extremely helpful and kind. There are six apartments in the building (three on each floor, though the downstairs ones aren't quite finished), but we only have one neighbor here so far, a returnee come home after 40 years in America. He claims to feel as much an outsider here as we do. His family lives in Kingstown and couldn't fathom why he wanted to settle down here, but he, like us, appreciates the quietness of the place.

Our next project is to buy a car but that may be accomplished tomorrow already. We've found the car, a 94 model Suzuki jeep, and just need to finalize the transaction and transfer the title. Getting the funds transferred from Norway proved to be a bit of a challenge, however. We wanted to move quick so as not to lose the car to another buyer, so a bank transfer wasn't ideal. Moreover, the banks wouldn't let me buy cash on my visa card over the counter leaving me with numerous ATM withdrawals as the easiest option. The ATM, thankfully is only a stone's throw away from the apartment, like everything else here.

Of other semi-news-worthy events I should mention that we had an opportunity to make ourselves familiar with the health center last week when Ella fell and hit her head on the edge of a door. A rapidly swelling bump on her forehead had us temporarily freaking out, but it was nothing serious and with some ice it came back down in less than an hour.

Its a strange thing to stick out like soar thumbs in a small town like this one. The first couple of weeks we've been very conscious of how other people respond to our presence, and eager to come across as likable ourselves. This becomes extra important when you know no one. This last week or so, however, we've come to know a few people and feel somewhat less socially adrift. Our first acquaintance was a lady running a small restaurant just up the road from us (a stone's throw away). She is the one who connected us with the lady who is selling us the car - a good friend of hers. Silje, Ella and I stopped by for lunch and although the codfish and breadfruit was excellent, the conversation was just as highly appreciated.

Yesterday, Silje did something quite gutsy and took Ella along to visit the local preschool. She found out that there are about 30 kids aged 1 to 4 and only four adults, but (or perhaps therefore) she and Ella were welcome to stop by whenever they want. Ella loves to be around other children so I am sure she will love the place. And we've had the first visits to our home as well. Our landlords have a grandson the same age as Ella who is looked after by a babysitter in the daytime. Although Ella wasn't too happy with this kid coming around and checking out her toys at first, they seem to be hitting it off now.

I too, have made new acquaintances, as I've started to "infiltrate" the banana farming community. Head of the Mespo Fair Trade group, Gideon Gilbert, has been very forthcoming and yesterday I spent all day on his farm, beginning to learn the basics of banana farming. Most importantly I have learned to wear long pants and not shorts when going to a farm. As I'm writing, the itch from 2-300 sandfly bites on each leg (no exaggeration) is taking its toll on my concentration. I am sure I will look back at it and laugh one day.


Oh, the top picture, as you may have guessed, is of the house where our apartment is (it's the one with the towel outside). The second one is the view from or veranda - in the background a van picking up passangers. The last two are of our livingroom/kitchen. All pictures are courtesy of Silje :)