At face value, “The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World” by Robin Wall Kimmerer might seem to be about the Western Serviceberry or Saskatoon Berry (Amelanchier alnifolia). In fact, the serviceberry is used to symbolize gift giving in American culture, a subject that the author discusses in great deal.
When the author stated that,
“…Eating with the seasons is a way of honoring abundance, by going to meet it when and where it arrives…” (p. 3),
it reminded me of the stories that my momma always tells about my great-grandmother Clara. During the late 19th century, Clara would purchase paw paws in the city—a fruit that can’t be found in cities today because unlike other fruits, paw paws have a short shelf life. Coincidentally, you also don’t see Serviceberries in the vast majority of supermarkets.
At the beginning of this book, the author undercut her own writing when she explained how she was able to pick tons of fruit from her neighbor’s serviceberry—and it was all “gifted”—free of charge. Wall Kimmerer uses this as a launching pad for the rest of her book analyzing the “Serviceberry Economy” vs the “Market Economy.” As a farmer, I have a fair bit to say about this, and I have even more to say as an anthropologist, but I will try to be brief.
If I was going to grow A. alnifolia on my farm, I would get several trees because even though they’re self-pollinating, the average tree yields 20 pounds of fruit. When you average in all of the fruit that the birds and critters eat, you might end up with half of that.
Costs vary, but for a 12 inch plant, it will cost you $10, while a 2-3 foot plant costs about $25. in many places if you buy in bulk, between 5 and 25 plants, it can cost as low as $12.00 each. Great! Even better is the fact that these trees are considered fast growing, averaging about 1 foot per year. Serviceberries can reach a height of about 10 feet-20 feet. You generally don’t see significant fruiting until it’s in the fourth year, and full production doesn’t occur until after 8 years, with an expected lifetime production of about 20 years. Now, that fruit the author collected might have been “free” to her, but it certainly was not “free” to the farmers, especially if you consider how long they had to wait in order to get fruit.
The author discusses how modern society has commodified everything, leading to the exploitation of resources. I absolutely agree with this. Likewise, I agree with everything that she says about gratitude and reciprocity. And I can even empathize when she states,
“…I lament my own immersion in an economy that grinds what is beautiful and unique into dollars, converts gifts to commodities in a currency that enables us to purchase things we don’t really need while destroying what we do…” (pg. 69).
However, I would respond with the old aphorism, “Change starts with you.” And by saying that, I don’t mean that she should just donate the,
“…advance payments from this book about the gift economy of the natural world…as a reciprocal gift…” (p. 109).
The author can **obviously** do this because she received a grant from the MacArthur Foundation to write this essay. As an academic professional, she’s making far more than the vast majority of farmers; she could instead teach for free. If she did that and others followed her lead, then colleges could be tuition free or at the very least reasonable. The author could also volunteer her summer months working without pay to harvest vegetables, thereby dramatically lowering the cost of food.
Instead, the author is advocating for a,
“…system of redistribution of wealth based on abundance and the pleasure of sharing…” (p. 41).
This ‘pleasure of sharing’ won’t last long and will quickly become a burden for a small population while simultaneously becoming an unyielding demand of a much-larger group. All one has to do is look into the pages of Native history to see how well this so-called utopia worked out. Even today, one can hear tales whispered in the wind in Indian Country—and not just in South Dakota where I lived. Giving is highly valuable in Indian Country, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard aggrieved people complain how others took advantage of their generosity—not just from other Natives, but from everyone else as well.
I totally get it. While the market economy was in full swing on the reservation where I lived, the “Serviceberry Market” also thrived. I understand gifting and reciprocity and still live it to this day. It’s unfortunate that many others don’t. The author discusses these “bad actors” and the accompanying greed.
Some people take, take, and take. And never give. The author seems to think that there are fewer takers than givers but anyone who’s been ripped will tell you that the taker’s can swallow a million givers in a millisecond. Even worse, they believe their behavior is justified. In the past, I’ve fallen on hard times and had to use Food Stamps. But never—not in a million years—would I have threatened to steal a basketful of groceries from a store—let alone from another shopper who actually paid for their groceries—because my food stamps were late. I completely understand desperation, but most people currently using Food Stamps did not make these threats; it was a small minority of takers. And the takers **always** outsize the givers.
If the author was really interested in alternative governing structures based upon gifts and reciprocity, she would realize that several already exist. For example, the Hutterites.
The Hutterites have what is called a “Community of Goods.” In fact, many of their fellow farmers are extremely jealous of them. The Hutterites live in apartments, eat (and pray) together, and everyone works for the common good. In short, nobody gets a paycheck; they work for “free,” although many communities will give their members “allowances.” As far as work is concerned, the elected leadership are responsible for assigning jobs; you don’t get to decide what you want to do. Laziness is not an option and there is no such thing as a “housewife.” You **have** to work. Even people with physical and mental disabilities are put to work. Many apartments don’t have kitchens because everyone cooks and eats communally.
If you grow up in this community and you’re a rebel—for example, you refuse your assigned job slaughtering pigs and decide you want to work in the office instead—then you are kicked out of the community because they **already** have office workers assigned…and you’re being disobedient. So, then you leave—with nothing. When you leave, you forfeit your entire lifetime of work. You pack up the very few personal items you have (e.g., your toothbrush, your 2 pairs of pants, your bonnet or hat, and etc.). Now you can either find another Hutterite community where you can work and live at OR you enter into the “English” world completely penniless.
“But,” you might be saying, “I would never live in a religious community!” Well, there’s already a place for you—the commune. In fact, there is a commune in my state a few hours south of my farm. One woman who’s lived on the commune since her early 20s has expressed a desire, now that she’s in her mid-40s, to leave. However, she is hesitant because just like the Hutterites, that commune also practices a paler version of the Community of Goods. This woman now feels trapped because everything that she worked for during the past 20-something years isn’t hers; it belongs to the community, so when she leaves, she’ll be penniless.
About 15 miles south of my farm, there’s an Old Order Mennonite community. In many ways, their society also mirrors gift giving and reciprocity. However, like the above two examples, they also have an extremely rigid criteria for membership. There is, and never will be, a perfect society. Communism in the USSR fell, monarchies were toppled, empires were ransacked, and Atlantis sunk into the ocean. Gift giving and reciprocity also has its setbacks. Namely, when people refuse to ‘play along’. For example, one of the biggest insults on the reservation is to call someone stingy—a form of public shaming meant to modify and/or control others’ behavior. It’s important to note that not only can we humans commodify inanimate objects, but we can also commodify people—and we do.
We can talk about ‘honorable’ Native cultures all you want, but I could tell you some reservation stories that would curl your toes. We can also commodify nature, and I believe that this is **precisely what the author has done.
I think that the author’s intentions were good, but that in the end, there is no way in hell that she is going to convince the American public—including all of the country’s myriad subcultures—to play along in anything resembling what she advocates in this book.