by: Justine Lindemann
A recent Brookings Institute article concisely articulated what I often spend an entire semester trying to communicate to my students:
We’re all susceptible to this white supremacist myth that claims the conditions in Black communities are mainly the result of Black people’s collective choices and moral failings. Rather, it is historic and systemic housing devaluation, economic injustice, and discrimination in health care that have created the conditions that increase rates of morbidity and mortality, especially during this unprecedented pandemic.
If nothing else, the novel coronavirus pandemic has laid bare the staunch inequities in American society, and highlighted the many ways in which historical and present-day structures and systems have discriminated not only against black Americans, but against low-income communities, rural communities, women, and those who work in the service economy, especially food chain workers.
Today, we find ourselves in the midst of both a global pandemic and the eruption of protests and riots as a response to longstanding, historically embedded and state-sanctioned racial violence, oppression, and hatred in the United States. The murder of George Floyd follows a long line of black and brown people of all genders in America who have been killed or brutalized in the name of “law and order.” Perhaps the experience of vast racialized inequities of the coronavirus pandemic, together with the apparent powerlessness within communities to change those dynamics, has helped to instigate and sustain the widespread response to this latest example of ongoing police brutality. If we are to contest the “white supremacist myth” rooted in neoliberal individualism that insistently ignores the extent to which societal structures, systems, and institutions have failed men and women of color, we must recognize that no individual, institution, organization, university, or government is exempt from the moral duty to engage authentically in anti-racist and equity-based work.
In light of a global pandemic that has had a particularly intense impact on the service sector and the agri-food system, Extension can and should position itself as a resource, responding to community needs as they emerge. That said, Extension was institutionalized as a service to predominantly rural, white, male, and agrarian communities, and is often still positioned primarily in those spaces. Despite expanding well beyond agriculture to also integrate agricultural and life sciences, Extension is often still seen (and sees itself) as a service to commodity-based and production agriculture. Notwithstanding, the roots of Extension date back to decades before the signing of the 1914 Smith-Lever Act, and include innovations in both agricultural and community development, with a heavy emphasis on direct engagement of communities as a means of needs assessment. The pioneering work of Booker T. Washington, George Washington Carver, and W.E.B. DuBois are detailed in Monica White‘s 2018 book, Freedom Farmers, which offers an important and oft-forgotten history of southern black agrarianism and extension practices. Washington, the founder of the Tuskegee Institute in Alabama, helped hundreds if not thousands of farmers to buy their own land, leading to the massive expansion of black-owned agricultural land in the early 1900s. Carver, in particular, focused on self-determination of farmers, and encouraged farmers to not only produce cash crops, but to grow food staples like sweet potatoes for which there was consistent market demand. DuBois, arguably the father of rural sociology, wrote about the liberatory potential of agriculture and cooperative economic structures within the black community, providing important theoretical foundations for the work that both Carver and Washington did to extend agricultural knowledge to black growers, and influenced many black growers in the establishment of alternative economic spaces as a part of their agrarian praxis.
In 1966, the former chancellor of the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, J. Martin Klotsche, argued that agricultural colleges have the unique opportunity through urban extension to “do for the urbanized areas what the land grant colleges have done for the nation’s farm population” (Klotsche 1966). Klotsche described urban problems as complex (and at times controversial) but argued that these factors should not be deterrents. Rather, “new techniques and approaches” should be developed, because “(c)reative innovation rather than the performance of routine urban services is the special role of the university in urban extension” (Klotsche 1966).
As a response to nationwide social distancing and stay at home orders, Extension institutions across the country have been forced to quickly pivot services to an almost exclusively online platform to continue to “extend” the knowledge, expertise, and research of universities to the people across the states that they serve. This shift comes at a time when many (if not all) Extension institutions are already transferring much of their content online, offering digital courses, webinars, and written content to complement the in-person educational material that has traditionally been the backbone of Extension.
For many, technological transitions constitute a “creative innovation,” in the way that Klotsche referenced. At the same time, this mode of engaging communities is both inherently inequitable (the digital divide is alive and well in Pennsylvania and nationwide) and an ineffectual and inauthentic way of truly engaging people. These caveats are true in urban as well as rural settings. The complexities of the urban landscape are also embedded in urban Extension work and require modes of engaging within community that do not translate easily – if at all – to online platforms.
The inequities of digital content delivery and lack of effective community engagement through Zoom only perpetuate the deprioritization of urban Extension in land-grant universities across the country (particularly among the 1862 LGUs, and with exceptions, of course). In many states, Pennsylvania included, the lack of robust engagement in cities means that Extension is also not serving a large majority of the racially diverse populations of the state. While the persistent violence and oppression of people of color in the United States may not seem germane to the purview of Extension, if we are to engage communities in cities around community development and vitality, we must understand that racial trauma, violence, and oppression are central to those issues. This is true in white communities as much as it is in communities of color, meaning that an anti-racist and equity lens should be deployed regardless of the racial identities of the people and communities with whom we work. Neglecting these crucially important urban struggles either mirrors and amplifies or buries longstanding histories of marginalization – both epistemic and spatial – of people of color within Extension, the USDA and partnering institutions or agencies, especially those dealing directly with access to agri-food system resources.
During a year-long study of Extension work in Philadelphia, faculty, educators, and undergraduate students collaborated on a narrative-based inquiry focusing on the experiences, competencies, and unique knowledge that educators bring to their work. This work highlighted the need to “recognize the multifaceted, complex, and unique lives of others” through authentic engagement, which can be described using six key competencies within Extension work. These include the critical necessity to “co-create with community,” “collaborate internally,” and “collaborate externally as city conveners.” Tommy McCann, former horticulture educator in Philadelphia noted that the convening role of Penn State Extension in the city is to “brin(g) the right people, including researchers and practitioners, together to support the work that’s already going on here. Much more than saying, ‘We think you need this,’ we need to come back and ask, ‘What is it that you need? What are you struggling with? What is it that Penn State can do to support that?'” While cultivating these competencies would have a positive impact on all Extension engagements, the complexities of the city, with its socio-economic, political, and racial diversity, high levels of inequality, and deeply engrained power dynamics, requires particular modes of engagement that emphasize continuous learning, collaboration, and co-creation.
The covid-19 pandemic has laid bare many of the inequities embedded not only within the agri-food system, but also in community and economic development endeavors writ large. That is, there are historically and geographically embedded reasons why black Americans are dying from covid-19 at two times – or more – the rate of other racial groups in the US. Extension has a unique opportunity to authentically engage within communities that have been disproportionately impacted by food insecurity, marginalization, disenfranchisement, and communities who have been targeted as victims of racial hatred.
Urban gardeners and farmers, like many others in this moment, are seeking greater self-determination and resilience in the food system. For black urban growers, a significant proportion of whom are women, this is not only a response to proximal shocks to the food supply chain, but a persistent pursuit to establish greater sovereignty over the food they eat, the land they work, and the health of their families and communities. Within urban Extension, we have the tools not only to partner with agricultural organizations across cities, but to deploy the expertise from within the College of Agricultural Sciences to help push these pursuits forward.
To meet our mission of providing access to education “when (people) want it, where they want it, and how they want it,” Extension’s innovations must expand beyond technological adaptation. In the past, Penn State Extension associates have been involved with urban agriculture policy development and innovative institutional collaborations in cities like Pittsburgh with the formation of the Pittsburgh Food Policy Council and Hilltop Urban Farms. These sorts of collaborative engagements with urban residents foster greater food system resilience while simultaneously offering technical skills in areas such as horticulture, community economic development, soil science, climate change adaptation, and nutrition. However, Extension must also engage in disruptive innovations that challenge systems, institutions, and people to evolve with the dynamism of the time. The extension of university knowledge to residents should be mirrored by the continuous learning of Extension associates about the needs, experiences, and expertise of the diversity of people we serve.
Co-creating with community and collaborating internally means disrupting disciplinary and programmatic boundaries and embracing epistemic pluralism: wicked problems such as climate change, food insecurity, and racial inequities (among many others) do not fit nicely into scholarly boxes, demand a variety of knowledges and experiences to tackle them, and only uneasily align with the tools offered through online engagement and education.
Photo credits: Penn State Extension, John Byrnes, Molly Berntsen, and Maria Graziani
Justine Lindemann is an Assistant Professor of Community Development and Resilience in the department of Agricultural Economics, Sociology, and Education at Penn State University. Her work and research centers racial equity and social justice, with a particular focus on urban food systems, food sovereignty, and black agrarianism.