Sources

Hard To Swallow: A Western Recipe For Improving Food Safety In China

Analysis: The sheer volume of producers, along with arcane systems of public oversight, means tainted food scandals are a regular affair in China. Beijing would be wise to look westward for business-driven systems of reducing food safety risks.

A food stand in Beijing (hmcharg)
A food stand in Beijing (hmcharg)
Li Jun

BEIJING – Food safety has become one of China's biggest public concerns in recent years. From Ractopamine-fed pigs and tainted bread to recycled waste oil and bacteria-filled frozen food, endless food security hazards not only aggravate the already frayed nerves of Chinese consumers, but also challenge the society's moral bottom line. "What is left to eat?," we can't help asking.

China's food safety problems have very complex causes. Rapid development of both the food industry and food science, as well as technological advancements, actually increase the level of risk. Ongoing social transition makes regulation ineffective. The superimposition of these two factors multiplies the risks.

China has to this day relied mainly on administrative measures to safeguard food security, as commercial and sanitary authorities apply standards, regularly inspect enterprises, and conduct quality controls.

To ensure food safety by counting only on administrative supervision is to start out with a handicap. For instance, China has up to half a million major food producers, more than three million independent food business entities, and 200 million farmers. This doesn't even take into account the innumerable food workshops, small stands and vendors. Monitoring this galaxy of food production is clearly no easy task.

Still, food safety is also jeopardized by rampant corruption and the tendency of local governments to pursue superficial, short-term economic objectives. The serious food security issues that have come to light in recent years show that it's no longer possible to deter illegal behavior and the wrongdoing of businessmen merely by administrative regulation.

Protection by capitalism

Hence, the experiences of developed countries are particularly worth learning from. In general, in addition to government monitoring by prevention and controls, Western countries encourage consumers to safeguard their own rights. This is an even more direct and effective way to limit food safety problems.

Take the United States as an example. Although the U.S. Food and Drug Administration holds a wide range of preventive, control and inspection powers, institutional arrangements encourage consumers to inspect manufacturers and distributors. This establishes a sound and advanced product liability system. Once the food or relative services is found to be defective or otherwise causing damage, consumers are able to demand compensation through litigation or other forms of rights protection. This punitive compensation can sometimes amount to astronomical sums.

In addition, once the food safety information and complaints are gathered together, social media will be able to monitor or expose the criminal businesses in a timely manner. This will affect buyers' choices and put huge pressure on unscrupulous businesses, ultimately forcing them to pay attention to food safety. Obviously, even if the pursuit of maximum profit is the nature of "economic animals," an enterprise will care more about its food safety and quality when its products are related to its own benefits and survival. What China lacks today is precisely this mechanism for connecting food safety with economic interests.

In order to encourage and support consumers in safeguarding their rights, we must first improve the legal system, and in particular fully mobilize the enthusiasm for self-protection amongst individuals. For example, currently according to China's Food Safety Law, if a producer knowingly sells food that does not meet the regulatory standards, consumers can demand a compensation of ten times the original price. However food is a relatively cheap commodity, and a ten-fold punishment is normally not a large enough sum to prompt consumers to seek compensation. It is also quite inconvenient to bring a complaint, and to find legal settlements.

In the long term, all this encourages the food businesses to be even more reckless. Multiple mechanisms such as arbitration, mediation and neutral evaluation systems should be established so as to settle the disputes and resolve problems rapidly. And ultimately, the sums that awarded to injured parties must be worth fighting for. These are the kinds of economic incentives that will ultimately elevate the level of food security in China.

Read the original article in Chinese

Photo - hmcharg

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Coronavirus

Where Lockdowns For LGBTQ Meant Moving Back In With Homophobic Relatives

The confinement experience could turn brutal for those forced to live with relatives who would not tolerate a member of the family living their sexual orientation openly as a young adult. Here are stories from urban and rural India.

At a Rainbow pride walk in Kolkata, India

Sreemanti Sengupta

Abhijith had been working as a radio jockey in the southern Indian city of Thiruvananthapuram when the COVID-19 pandemic hit in March, 2020. When the government imposed a nationwide lockdown, Abhijith returned to the rural Pathanamthitta district , where his parents live with an extended family, including uncles, cousins and grandparents.

Eighteen months later, he recalled that the experience was "unbearable" because he had to live with homophobic relatives. "Apart from the frequent reference to my sexual 'abnormality', they took me to a guruji to 'cure' me," Abhijith recalled. "He gave me something to eat, which made me throw up. The guru assured me that I was throwing up whatever 'demon' was possessing me and 'making' me gay."


Early in 2021, Abhijith travelled back to Thiruvananthapuram, where he found support from the members of the queer collective.

Inspired by their work, he also decided to work towards uplifting the queer community. "I wish no one else goes through the mental trauma I have endured," said Abhijit.

Abhijith's story of mental distress arising from family abuse turns out to be all too common among members of India's LGBTQ+ community, many of whom were trapped in their homes and removed from peer support groups during the pandemic.

Oppressive home situations

As India continues to reel from a pandemic that has claimed more lives (235,524) in three months of the second wave (April-June 2021) than in the one year before that (162,960 deaths in March 2020-March 2021), the LGBTQ community has faced myriad problems. Sexual minorities have historically suffered from mainstream prejudice and the pandemic has aggravated socio-economic inequalities, instigated family and institutionalized abuse, apart from limiting access to essential care. This has resulted in acute mental distress which has overwhelmed queer support infrastructure across the country.

Speaking to queer collective representatives across India, I learned that the heightened levels of distress in the community was due to longstanding factors that were triggered under lockdown conditions. Family members who are intolerant of marginalized sexual identities, often tagging their orientation as a "disorder" or "just a phase", have always featured among the main perpetrators of subtle and overt forms of violence towards queer, trans and homosexual people.

Calls from lesbians and trans men to prevent forced marriages during lockdowns.

Sappho For Equality, a Kolkata-based feminist organization that works for the rights of sexually marginalized women and trans men, recorded a similar trend. Early in the first wave, the organization realized that the existing helpline number was getting overwhelmed with distress calls. It added a second helpline number. The comparative figures indicate a 13-fold jump in numbers: from 290 calls in April 2019-March 20 to 3,940 calls in April 2020-May 2021.

"Most of the calls we have been getting from lesbians and trans men are urgent appeals to prevent forced marriages during lockdowns," said Shreosi, a Sappho member and peer support provider. "If they happen to resist, they are either evicted or forced to flee home. But where to house them? There aren't so many shelters, and ours is at full capacity."

Shreosi says that the nature of distress calls has also changed. "Earlier people would call in for long-term help, such as professional mental health support. But during the pandemic, it has changed to immediate requests to rescue from oppressive home situations. Often, they will speak in whispers so that the parents can't hear."

Lack of spaces

Like many of his fellow queer community members, life for Sumit P., a 30-year-old gay man from Mumbai, has taken a turn for the worse. The lockdown has led to the loss of safe spaces and prolonged residence at home.

"It has been a really difficult time since the beginning of the lockdown. I am suffering from a lot of mental stress since I cannot freely express myself at home. Even while making a call, I have to check my surroundings to see if anybody is there. If I try to go out, my family demands an explanation. I feel suffocated," he said.

The pandemic has forced some queer people to come out

Sumit is also dealing with a risk that has hit the community harder than others – unemployment and income shortage. He's opened a cafe with two other queer friends, which is now running into losses. For others, pandemic-induced job losses have forced queer persons from all over the country to return to their home states and move in with their families who've turned abusive during this long period of confinement.

Lockdowns force coming out

According to Kolkata-based physician, filmmaker and gay rights activist Tirthankar Guha Thakurata, the pandemic has forced some queer people to come out, succumbing to rising discomfort and pressure exerted by homophobic families.

"In most cases, family relations sour when a person reveals their identity. But many do not flee home. They find a breathing space or 'space out' in their workspaces. In the absence of these spaces, mental problems rose significantly," he said.

Not being able to express themselves freely in front of parents who are hostile, intolerant and often address transgender persons by their deadname or misgender them has created situations of severe distress, suicidal thoughts and self-harm.

Psychiatrist and queer feminist activist Ranjita Biswas (she/they) cites an incident. A gender-nonconforming person died under suspicious circumstances just days after leaving their peer group and going home to their birth parents. The final rites were performed with them dressed in bangles and a saree.

"When a member of our community asked their mother why she chose a saree for someone who had worn androgynous clothes all their life, she plainly said it was natural because after all, the deceased 'was her daughter,'" Biswas recalls.

The Indian queer mental health support infrastructure, already compromised with historical prejudice, is now struggling

David Talukdar/ZUMA

"Correctional" therapy

In India, queer people's access to professional mental healthcare has been "very limited," according to community members such as Ankan Biswas, India's first transgender lawyer who has been working with the Human Rights Law Network in West Bengal.

"A large majority of the psychiatrists still consider homosexuality as a disorder and practice 'correctional therapy'. It's only around the big cities that some queer-friendly psychiatrists can be found," Biswas said. "The pandemic has further widened the inequalities in access to mental health support for India's LGBTQ community."

Biswas is spending anxious days fielding an overwhelming amount of calls and rescue requests from queer members trapped in their homes, undergoing mental, verbal and even physical torture. "We don't have the space, I just tell them to wait and bear it a little longer," he said.

Medical care is dismal

Anuradha Krishnan's story, though not involving birth family, outlines how the lack of physical support spaces have affected India's queer population. Abandoned by her birth family when she came out to them as a trans woman in 2017, Anuradha Krishnan (she/they), founder of Queerythm in Kerala who is studying dentistry, had to move into an accommodation with four other persons.

Isolation triggered my depression

"I am used to talking and hanging around with friends. Isolation triggered my depression and I had to seek psychiatric help." Living in cramped quarters did not help with quarantine requirements and all of them tested positive during the first wave.

What is deeply worrying is that the Indian queer mental health support infrastructure, already compromised with historical prejudice, is now struggling, placing more and more pressure on queer collectives and peer support groups whose resources are wearing thin.

During the 10 months of the first wave of the pandemic in India in 2020, Y'all, a queer collective based in Manipur, received about 1,000 distress calls on their helpline number from LGBTQ+ individuals. In May 2021 alone, they received 450 such calls (including texts and WhatsApp messages) indicating a telling escalation in the number of queer people seeking help during the second wave.

As India's queer-friendly mental health support infrastructure continues to be tested, Y'all founder, Sadam Hanjabam, a gay man, says, "Honestly, we are struggling to handle such a large number of calls, it is so overwhelming. We are also dealing with our own anxieties. We are burning out."

Sreemanti Sengupta is a freelance writer, poet, and media studies lecturer based in Kolkata.

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