Sheep-Work: Food Empires and Pastoral Resistance
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CORE Metadata, citation and similar papers at core.ac.uk Provided by The University of Utah: J. Willard Marriott Digital Library SHEEP-WORK: FOOD EMPIRES AND PASTORAL RESISTANCE IN THE INTERMOUNTAIN WEST by Katy Savage A thesis submitted to the faculty of The University of Utah in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts in Environmental Humanities Department of English The University of Utah December 2010 Copyright © Katy Savage 2010 All Rights Reserved The University of Utah Graduate School STATEMENT OF THESIS APPROVAL The thesis of Katy Savage has been approved by the following supervisory committee members: Stephen Tatum, Chair 05/06/2010 Date Approved Anya Plutynski, Member 05/06/2010 Date Approved Kathryn Stockton, Member 05/06/2010 Date Approved and by Stephen Tatum , Chair of the Department of English and by Charles A. Wight, Dean of The Graduate School. ABSTRACT The following thesis is an attempt to analyze current and historical patterns of violence through the lens of a species of domesticated animal--sheep. I begin by setting down some founding provisions of the economic, political, and social systems within which sheep-work emerged, briefly tracking some of the historical roles sheep have played in the displacement, alienation and domination of other humans by others, from the time of sheep-domestication to the Mormon conquest of Utah. In this trajectory, sheep, embodying cultural ideals of „property‟ and „work,‟ show themselves repeatedly as able tools of land-theft and genocide. This analysis then opens the way to explore how these same beasts, and the same attempts to set down the meanings of „property‟ and „work,‟ have been necessary for resistance movements to these atrocities, which clarifies the central importance of food-economies in political and racial conflict. This sets the stage for my second chapter, which explores the forces of oppression in modern sheep- work and its related industries, linking this oppression back to the historical devaluation of food-work. Finally, because I write this in the urgency of ecocide, the privatization of the last remaining peasant commons, and the disappearance of agricultural skills in a forced march to the cities, my last chapter focuses on the paths of resistance brought to light by this analysis of sheep-work. Those same concepts of „property‟ and „work‟ which have for millennia been tools in the abuse of both humans and ecosystems open themselves up for radical renegotiation by „neo-pastoralists‟ and other food activists. This reconceptualizing work, carried out by those in active solidarity with both farmworkers and small farmers, holds out the promise of forming pragmatic, functioning communities where ecological care is born out of human egalitarianism and joined labor on the land, rather than through the urban-centered coerciveness of federal mandates which seek to „preserve‟ Nature by clearing „wilderness‟ of those who work there. iv CONTENTS ABSTRACT……………………………………………………………………………...iii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS……………………………………………………………...vii INTRODUCTION.…………………………………………………………….………….1 How Can You Write About Sheep When We‟re At War?…..……………………......1 Writing from Sheep-bodies: An Explanation……………...………………………….5 Chapters 1 PECUNIARY HISTORIES.......................................................................................14 Hope in the Bookends of Copenhagen………………………………………………14 Property and the Origins of Sheep…………………………………………………...17 Wealth Disparities and Sheep Displacements……………………………....……….20 Animal Property as a Taboo Body……………………………………….…………..28 Peculiar People: Sheep in Utah………………………………………………………32 Conclusions: Work as Genocide, Laziness and Theft as Resistance…….…….....…47 2 LONELY WAGES……………………………………………………………..…...55 Part One: Herding in the Intermountain West……………………………………….58 Methods and Cast….............................................................................................58 Sheep-Work Written: Loneliness and Nostalgia………………………………...64 “Change This to 21st Century”: Encounters with the Herders of the Intermountain West…………………………………………………………79 Ethnographic Notes on the Logic of Bottom Rungs…………………………….83 Part Two: Connections to Extended Food-Work...…………………………………93 Crops……………………………………………………………………………..93 Meat……………………………………………………………………………...98 Part Three: Arbeit Macht Frei……………………………………………………...107 Mooki and Work‟s Passivity…………………………………………………..107 Cities and Hinterlands…………………………………………………………110 3 FLOCKING……………………………………………………………………….117 Laziness, Theft, and the Animals that Make Us………………………………….122 Property……………………………………………………………………….122 Work……………………………………………………………………………133 Working Property………………………………………………………………137 Last Word…………………………………………………………………………..145 REFERENCES…………………………………………………………………………148 vi ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I thank first of all the two Peruvian herders, Estaban and Rodolfo, who invited me into their campo and shared their instant coffee and dinners of beans and spam. More than that, they shared their stories and ideas. I likewise thank the Powell family for letting me into their lives, onto their land, among their livelihoods, when they likely had their reasons to distrust city environmentalists. I thank the young Powells in particular for being brave and strong, courteous and capable, and reminding me why I keep returning to rural Utah as a place of hope, even as the city institutions lure me away temporarily. I thank the many other pastoralists I bumped into in this research, caring for their beasts and creating beauty in the Uintah mountains, Wasatch suburbs or Navajo desert. Thank you for ignoring or combating the urban denigration of your actions as “unskilled labor,” and for passing on your knowledge and skills to us in the next generation of food-workers. I also thank those in academic institutions that helped me, taking a chance on work that at times bordered on unacademic and anti-institutional. Folks at the University of Utah were extremely generous throughout my work here, providing me space and resources to track the lines of my thought. My gratitude goes to Terry Tempest Williams for opening me to my animal self and coaxing out my bravery. Also I thank the members of my committee: Steve Tatum for a blessed openness to unconventionality, for his encouragement and drawing of connections; Anya Plutynski for her polite but dogged insistence on clarity and thorough questioning; Kathryn Stockton for her cheerful demolition of „balance‟ and „normality‟ in pursuit of a body‟s reality. I also thank those at the Charles Redd Center for Western Studies at Brigham Young who helped fund much of my archival research and ethnographic work with herders. My deep gratitude goes to the hospitality of the land, the forests and streams. The border collies and ruined Grand Pyrenees who kept me company, the sheep on the mountain and the mountain herself. I thank my family for making my roots so beautiful I can‟t unhinge myself. And for Tristan, my partner, playmate, and co-conspirator. For cooking our dinners on camp stoves and translating the words of workers I didn‟t understand. For reading and critiquing drafts while sheet-mulching the yard. For your tireless questions and your irrational confidence that my work with small ruminants is important. For letting your roots grow into my Utah and allowing the border collie pup to sleep in the tent with us. For your own incomparable mind and a lot of fun. Thank you for all of this, and the more I didn‟t write. Let‟s get to work. viii INTRODUCTION How Can You Write About Sheep When We‟re At War? “Trophy photos of U.S. military personnel terrorizing Iraqi prisoners in Abu Ghraib prison in 2004 showed, among other things, a naked Iraqi man on all fours, with a leash around his neck, and prisoners cowering before German shepherd dogs. Cruelly, the dog is made to function as a racist prosthetic of the U.S. military‟s power to animalize „the other,‟ a power that applies in the first instance to the animal itself.” (Shukin 10, emphasis in the original) When I met Ian in Boston, he said we would go to Paul Revere Square to see a fence of blank dog tags, memorial to the dead and wounded soldiers of two wars. Instead we sat talking at a café, me sipping limp chai while he drank some soy-orange concoction (he‟s nervous enough without caffeine, he says). Gentle-eyed Ian was a member of Iraq Veterans Against the War, planning protests for the 2008 Democratic and Republican Conventions. I was in Boston for a conference on the abolition of nuclear weapons. But instead of foreign policy or protest tactics, we talked of sheep. He told me that once we ended the wars, he would leave the city and raise Navajo-Churros. Ian told me what he learned as a soldier in Tal Afar in between missions, when he was on-line looking up the milking capacity and wool-growing rates of different heirloom breeds. I told him what I learned as a student, camping in rural Utah with Peruvian sheepherders and border collies; or huddled—sun-baked and wind- whipped—in the back of a pick-up on its way to the Navajo Nation to see the Navajo- 2 Churros in Tuba City, AZ. When an ambulance hurried down the bent road Ian‟s palms came up hard against his ears. He shivered. The husky leashed to the next table howled. Ian and his brothers in the black IVAW shirts have lived through moments I couldn‟t understand. My life has been, after all, the most sheltered, in a Mormon, upper- middle class, suburban, white-dominated community. But if my sheepish ambitions correlate with those of an east-coast war veteran,