Four years ago, the United States government held the first congressional hearing on Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD), an as yet unknown affliction responsible for the devastating and sudden losses of native honeybees, which mysteriously disappear and never return to their hives. While the news has been relatively silent on CCD the past couple of years, there’s been a resurgence of other media around this phenomenon, including “Vanishing of the Bees,” a documentary film directed by George Langworthy and Maryam Heinen and narrated by actress Ellen Page (“Inception” and “Juno”).

“Vanishing of the Bees” brings awareness to the ongoing struggle faced by the bees and their keepers, delving deeply into Colony Collapse Disorder, its potential causes and what the bees’ disappearance might be telling us.  The film opens with storybook charm on our beloved protagonist, the bee, as it flies from flower to flower in search of pollen and nectar. The cuteness-factor quickly turns heart-wrenching and real as the film spells out the situation in no uncertain terms. If the bees disappear, much of our food supply goes with them, as does the $15 billion dollar a year industry built up around these industrious pollinators.

But that industry may just be part of the problem. David Hackenberg, a commercial beekeeper, was the first to report large honeybee losses in 2006. The following year, reports flew in from around the country (and world) of beekeepers losing anywhere between 30-90 percent of their hives–billions of bees gone, often in a matter of weeks. While the cause of CCD has yet to be identified, beekeepers and researchers appearing in the documentary have honed in on some likely culprits.  From scrutinizing the agricultural practice of planting monocultures and its ties to harmful commercial beekeeping practices, to uncovering the widespread application of systemic pesticides, made from the same chemicals used for warfare in World War I, “Vanishing of the Bees” paints a grim but clear picture.

“Bees are an indicator of environmental quality. When the bees are dying, something’s wrong, and that’s going to affect all of us,” says David Mendes, a commercial beekeeper and good friend of Hackenberg’s. The film’s take on governmental “protection” is, at best, cynical. While European governments have applied the precautionary principle and banned certain systemic pesticides, like Bayer’s Gaucho, due to their potential threat, the United States utilizes risk assessment, deeming a certain amount of risk to the public and environment acceptable. But as the film makes clear, the very agency that’s charged with protecting us from a harmful pesticide often relies on the data provided by the companies who would most profit from its use.

“Vanishing of the Bees” takes an intense look at a seemingly dire situation, yet the film is punctuated with timely humor to lighten the mood. And despite the many hurdles faced by beekeepers, there may be a glimmer of hope for bees in the telling of their story. Humans have worshiped bees throughout the centuries and looked to them for signals of things to come. If the bees are trying to tell us something, “Vanishing of the Bees” has captured their message, deftly portraying a saga that plays upon human emotion and stirring a deep-seated connection to bees that stands 10,000 years strong.

For upcoming screenings of “Vanishing of the Bees,” visit: http://www.vanishingbees.com/events/.

The directors are currently working on a 30-minute educational version of the film for high school classrooms, and are working with education experts to develop a curriculum to engage youth.  To donate to the cause, visit: http://www.vanishingbees.com/donate/.

To stay informed of current events affecting our bees–like the EPA’s decision on June 24, 2011, to approve the emergency usage of a systemic pesticide known to be harmful to bees and a potential culprit in CCD, as a way to battle stink bugs on the east coast–visit the “Vanishing of the Bees” Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/vanishingbees.

The new documentary screening around the country The Economics of Happiness says everything it should say. Ambitiously, it attempts to explain the many downsides of economic globalization, while offering actual alternatives that the viewer can get behind, and (for a movie just a little over an hour long) it does this concisely and without too much dreadful hyperbole or schmaltz. For this I am thankful. All too often, environmental themed movies rely on over-exaggerations, simplifications, and a preaching-to-the-choir sentimentalities–which result in a product unlikely to perform the educational (that’s entertainingly educational) role it was made for.

Director Helena Norberg-Hodge and her team use the case study of the Ladakhi people from the high-altitude regions of India, Pakistan, and China (whose traditional, sustainable, joyful, tightly-knit community lifestyle has been disintegrating since their introduction to the products and values of modern global capitalist culture) to illustrate their criticism of globalization, without overly romanticizing the Ladakhis or failing to address pro-globalization arguments.

The film’s analysis of the negative effects of globalization is spot on, citing eight main outcomes: mounting unhappiness in the industrialized world; feelings of insecurity for those who are not leading industrial-world lives; unsustainable use of resources; climate change; loss of meaningful livelihoods, especially farming for those in the “developing world”; increasing inter-group conflict; handouts to big businesses; and a false accounting of progress. The film contains effective explanations for how corporately-controlled global trade causes these results, including Hodge’s brilliant metaphor of how our “arms are so long we don’t know what our hands are doing.”

I have reservations regarding the use of climate change as an discursive tactic for getting people to make societal change toward sustainability. That being said, these other effects are clearly perceptible to the average person. With even a little effort to look at the world as it is, whether through scientific studies or personal experience, a reasonable American could see that these effects are real, and by watching this film could be convinced that they are a direct outcome and corollary of global capitalism.

The solution the film offers–economic and political localization–is one that we’ve heard for some time and with substantial frequency in the sustainable food world. Refreshingly, the film even includes a critique of the “buying our way out of the mess” argument which too often circumscribes the limits of sustainable foodies’ activism. And so I can heartily recommend this film as an activist tool, for introducing emerging or tentative foodies to the larger economic context of local, sustainable foods (and how to actually create more sustainable systems in general).

I do have one issue with the film, which isn’t really so much about what it says as what it doesn’t cover (and–as a filmmaker–I know this can be due to limitations of time, capacity, and/or the need to focus a film on one audience). That issue is that this film, like so many others coming from the environmentally-aware left, doesn’t ask the hard questions of how to actually leverage large-scale change. The film mentions the influence of corporate capital on our political system (which continues to be depressingly evidenced in all sections of government), but offers no ideas for how to counter this. It offers alternatives to the false accounting mentioned earlier, that of Genuine Progress Indicators (GPI) or Gross National Happiness (GNH) instead of the grossly inaccurate Gross Domestic Product (GDP). But how to actually get governments to implement those measures, when those in charge are completely enthralled with and beholden to the ideologies of endless growth and “free” markets?

Something else kept haunting me as I watched the film: “the masses.” Globalization is no doubt the hegemonic ideology of our time, and the masses (at least its vocal, politically active members like Tea Partiers) have bought the line, practically without reservations. I believe that the biggest question for the anti-globalization (or better, the pro-localization) movement is: how do we change this? Can people be convinced to break from ideologies that don’t serve them? Can “everyday” Americans (those who this film claims to be at their unhappiest level of the past 60 years) be convinced that localization is a preferable alternative? More importantly, perhaps, can they be convinced that it is actually possible, and not just a hippie pipe dream?

The sad reality is that these questions are much easier to ask than to answer. I ask them not to try to seem like I have it figured out, but to honestly plea for continued conversation from those who would like to see humanity and the planet “saved.” We know the problems, and we think we know the (physical) solutions. Now, how do we get from here to there? I have a feeling that, at minimum, it will involve a lot of education. And for that, this movie is a great start.

Last month, the University of Minnesota caused a stir when it decided to postpone the release of a film that focuses on the effect agriculture is having on U.S. waterways from Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico. Troubled Waters–a film directed by Larkin McPhee for the University’s Bell Museum of Natural History, part of the College of Food, Agricultural, and Natural Resource Sciences–was held up, according to University Relations (the university’s PR office) to “allow time for a review of the film’s scientific content.” Yet ace reporting by Molly Preismeyer at the Twin Cities Daily Planet revealed that the film’s team had already thoroughly fact-checked the film, and followed the review process utilized by the PBS science program NOVA. Attempts to get the university to outline a standard procedure for research-based films were not fruitful. Then the story shifted once again when Dean Allen Levine told Minnesota Public Radio that the film “vilifies agriculture.”

Even though the University caved under pressure and allowed the scheduled premiere of the film to take place on October 3 and on October 5 on a local television station, the story of Troubled Waters has developed into a debate on academic freedom and the role a university’s donors should play in its research priorities.

Farmers at the center of the solution

Upon watching the film, I was surprised by what I saw. This is because a large portion focuses on farmers introducing new techniques to their fields that are reducing run-off and increasing soil fertility on their land. Instead of “vilifying agriculture,” it seems the filmmakers worked hard to focus on farmer-based solutions–like those of brothers Dick and Jack Gerhardt, who createdutilize a tool that assesses how much nitrogen is needed in a given field by reading chlorophyll levels. The “GreenSeeker” allows them to apply one-third the amount of nitrogen as in previous years. Because farmers often apply excess nitrogen to insure yields, much of which ends up as run-off in local waterways, inventions like these have the potential to empower farmers to save money while reducing the environmental consequences of agriculture.

The film also gives a platform to farmers like Jack Hedin, who discusses using cover crops in winter on his vegetable farm to reduce soil erosion and run-off; Tony Thompson, who employs perennial grasses and wetlands that soak up run-off on his 4000-acre soybean and corn farm; and Dan Coughlin, who raises grass-fed cows instead of keeping them in confinement–which produces excess nitrogen-rich manure that often ends up in waterways.

Looking closely at the federal agriculture policies, the film specifically cites those promoting ethanol production as a large contributing factor to the dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico. In particular, the 2007 Renewable Fuels Standard, which mandated that 15 billion gallons of corn ethanol be produced by 2022–therefore spurring farmers to grow more corn and use more nitrogen fertilizer. (Just yesterday, the EPA raised the amount of ethanol allowed in gasoline from 10 percent to 15, showing there is still strong support for these policies.) The film notes that ethanol remains controversial partly because it is seen as a means to lower dependence on foreign oil, but requires oil to produce the fertilizer that goes into growing the corn needed to make this alternative fuel. One researcher notes that it takes eight gallons of fossil fuel to produce 10 gallons of ethanol. Indeed, the film raises tough questions–many of which are not new to the discussion. So what motivated the university to call out the dogs?

Funding versus research

Not long after the news broke that Troubled Waters was being held up, it came to light that Vice President of University Relations Karen Himle was behind the film’s purgatory. This information was notable because her husband John Himle is president of Himle Horner, a public relations firm that represents the Minnesota Agri-Growth Council, a group that promotes both ethanol production and industrial agriculture practices. More troubling, as El Dragón at Fair Food Fight points out, is the fact that Cargill–which is a key player in ethanol production–has its VP on the University of Minnesota’s board. And that the U of M also has a building on its St. Paul campus named for Cargill. In addition, the university has had funding put at risk by its research before, and so could be trigger-happy. Minnesota Public Radio reports:

In 2008, two Minnesota Soybean groups threatened to pull $1.5 million in funding after the U of M released a study that said using soybeans and other crops for bio-fuels could worsen global warming.

Where research funding originates has become a major issue for deciding what will be researched. Currently, as I’ve written before, matching funds from outside the government are required to get USDA research grants–which allows corporate interests to affect the research taken on. And when USDA has performed ground-breaking research that has the potential to change policy, it has often been played down by those in high places. This influence bought by agribusiness has particularly been a problem at land-grant universities, where a lot of the agricultural research is taking place.

Controversies around agriculture at universities are not new, but it has become more frequent in recent years, as the public becomes more aware of food production methods and industrial agriculture groups feel threatened by the pressure to change. Just last fall Michael Pollan was scheduled to give a solo lecture at California Polytechnic State University in San Luis Obispo when Harris Ranch Beef Company Chairman David E. Wood threatened to cut off $500,000 in funding to the university if he was allowed to do so. In response, the university changed its program to a panel discussion, which included industrial agriculture-friendly professor Gary Smith of Colorado State University and large-scale organic farmer Myra Goodman of Earthbound Farm. Pollan’s book The Omnivore’s Dilemma was also the source of ire for industrial agriculture proponents when it was selected as “common reading” last summer for incoming freshmen at Washington State University.

All of this added controversy is doing one thing that cannot be denied: bringing more attention to the issues at hand by driving interest in reading the books and seeing the films at the eye of the storm. As for Troubled Waters, I highly recommend you take the opportunity to see it for yourself. It is unique in that it puts a face on the farmers at the heart of the discussion, gives a broader picture of the issues at hand, and outlines options–including one community’s thriving alternative to ethanol–for building a more sustainable food system.

The film can be purchased from The Bell Museum. Watch the intro here:

Last week, I sat riveted at the Horticultural Society of New York while watching a screening of the 2008 Oscar-nominated documentary, The Garden, a tour de force that pits a 14-acre community garden in South Central Los Angeles, run by mostly Latin American immigrants, against a wealthy developer with questionable city ties. A powerful treatise on power and racial discord, The Garden tells the story of farmers who organize to fight back against backroom deals to try and save their green urban oasis. [spoiler alert]

In the wake of the 1992 riots in South Central Los Angeles, the garden was created by the city as a way to heal the community. In turn, it became the largest garden of its kind in the country, sustaining more than 350 families and an antidote to the surrounding inner-city blight. The garden flourished for nearly a decade, until the city notified the farmers in 2003 they would be evicted within two months and the garden destroyed to make way for warehouses and a soccer field.

The film follows the farmers from the day they receive an eviction notice through the discovery of shady deals and courtroom drama to a last minute showdown replete with celebrity treesitters. With the looming threat of losing their land, Director Scott Hamilton Kennedy draws the viewer into the farmers’ struggle to continue planting and maintaining their community.

As the farmers decide to fight back and not merely vacate the property, I could almost smell the soil rising up against the smog of L.A. Through Kennedy’s lens, we follow the farmers’ leaders Rufina and Tezo as they hire a law firm who help them determine that the city had originally acquired the land for $5 million from owner Ralph Horowitz through eminent domain. They then discover that the Los Angeles City Council, in a secret, closed-session meeting and endorsed by Councilwoman Jan Perry, had sold the land back to Horowitz for $5 million—a price far below market value. Horowitz announces his intention to build warehouses on the land, as well as a soccer field. The situation is further complicated by Juanita Tate, the founder of the Concerned Citizens of South Central, who is adamantly opposed to the farmers’ cause and focused on her pet project, a soccer field.

In a bright moment, lawyers help the farmers’ score a preliminary victory: the County Superior Court issues a temporary restraining order and later a preliminary injunction halting development of the property until the lawsuit is settled. Sadly, later, the farmers lose the lawsuit and the court raised the injunction, freeing Horowitz to evict the farmers.

Initially, Horowitz seeks $16.3 million for the property, more than three times the 1986 eminent domain valuation. Then, in a deal brokered in cooperation by The Trust for Public Land, the farmers raise a little over $6 million. The film cuts to the only thing that seems to matter (but ultimately cannot save the garden) in L.A.: star power, as Willie Nelson, Danny Glover, Darryl Hannah, Joan Baez, Martin Sheen and others turn out to shine a light on the issue. In a stunning moment, the Annenberg Foundation announces they will donate the remainder of the money to buy the farm. And with crashing devastation, Horowitz declines to accept the offer; in his voice over, he says he would not have sold the land to them even if they offered him $100 million.

Ever-present is the glaring disparity between power and poverty, race and class. The immigrant farmers eking out a green space versus a wealthy developer and tainted city council member with a corrupt local organizer in her back pocket. Amongst claims of brown vs. black racism, anti-Semitism and “pimping poverty,” endless politicians parade their way through the garden, including Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, who meekly states that he wishes there was more he could do to save the garden.

In the end, as bulldozers tear down the garden, tears rolled down my face. Perry manages to get re-elected, some of the farmers are relocated to a subpar parcel under power lines, while another group relocates to farmland in Bakersfield. The garden is still a dirt patch and Horowitz and the clothing company Forever 21 are now working on a proposal for a warehouse and distribution center on the now-bulldozed site. For what? I kept asking myself. Greenery turned to dust. Trees turned under for cheap clothes from China.

The Garden is a gripping and enraging film. While they may not longer have their garden, the South Central Farmers are still organized and protesting. Go see the film and learn how you can support local urban farms.

The Garden is playing select theaters:

05/01 Irvine, CA, University
05/01 San Francisco, CA, Lumiere
05/01 Berkeley, CA, Elmwood
05/01, Pasadena, CA, Playhouse
05/08 New York, NY, Cinema Village
05/15 Phoenix, AZ, Valley Art
05/15 Washington, DC, E-Street
05/21 Hudson NY, Time & Space Ltd
05/22 Santa Rosa CA, Rialto Lakeside
05/22 Waterville ME, Railroad Square
05/22 Boston MA, Coolidge Corner
05/29 Amherst MA, Amherst Theatre
05/29 Salt Lake City UT, Broadway Theatre
06/05 Grand Rapids MI, UICA
06/09 Normal IL, Normal Theatre
06/11 Saratoga NY, Saratoga Film Forum
06/12 Portland OR, Hollywood Theatre
06/12 Tallahassee FL, Regal Miracle 5
06/12 Charlotte NC, Regal Park Terrace
06/19 Tucson AZ, The Loft
06/26 Houston TX, Museum of Fine Art
06/26 Austin TX, Alamo
07/03 Nashville TN, Belcourt Theatre
07/24 Santa Fe NM, CCA