Dive! The Film - Living Off America's Waste

In this documentary, Jeremy Seifert takes a close look at our society’s shameful habit of wasting 1/2 the food we produce. Following a group of L.A. Freegans, we see the astonishing amount of food that’s thrown into supermarket dumpsters every night. This food is salvaged to feed their family and friends as well as provide donations to organizations working with the poor. Their efforts are noble, but dumpster diving is inevitably dependent on the inefficient capitalist system that allows so much unnecessary waste. So the question we are left with is: how do we become a society with empty dumpsters?

Jeremy questions why more excess food isn’t transported directly to those who need it most. His persistent attempts to get answers from supermarket officials go unanswered. Although the Trader Joe’s website claimed they prefer to speak with people face-to-face (their FAQ section has since been changed), not a single person was willing to discuss the tremendous amount of good food found in their dumpsters.

Screen Shot from Film

 I was astonished by this lack of transparency from a company that provides a considerable amount of information about the products on their shelves. When Trader Joe’s finally acknowledged Jeremy’s letter-a-day the response was very defensive, stating, “TJ’s stores across the country donate food that they feel is safe to eat 7 days a week.” The question becomes, how and why is certain food deemed ‘unsafe’ when it’s sustained a community of people for years without causing illness? It’s likely that these standards are somewhat arbitrary, and the real issue is laziness. It’s easier for food stores to send unsold products to landfills than to carefully sift through goods and salvage all that is truly safe for consumption. By the same token, if purchasing food is within ones means, it’s easy to turn a blind eye while this issue persists.

         Gleaning food definitely presents logistical challenges. The hard work of dumpster diving was written all over the exasperated face of Jeremy’s wife. Though she appreciates the literal fruits of his labor, she admits to dreading the mornings when the kitchen is filled with food that needs to be sifted through and washed. Surprisingly enough, the work involved for Jeremy to recover more food for more people was far less taxing. In this instance, he called one Trader Joe’s store directly and asked to take their excess food after New Years Eve. The store agreed, allowing Jeremy to come through the front door and pick up 6 shopping carts worth of food, which he then donated to the Salvation Army.

With one simple call, Jeremy found a sweet spot between corporate donations and lone dumpster divers where the most productive gleaning was possible. The objective now is to broaden that space for effective action. Why this single store was willing to open their doors and reduce food waste while the corporate head quarters refused to even speak on the matter is a mystery. Nevertheless, Jeremy’s collaboration with this store is a seed of hope for the future without food waste. A future in which executives let down their guards, acknowledge the problem and use their influence to make large scale changes. A future where gleaners aren’t forced to use subversive tactics to do something just. The secret is already out – a lot of good food is feeding landfills instead of hungry people. Jeremy’s success in this instance is admirable, but it is still a band-aid solution for a broken system. The more people willing to engage in this conversation on various levels of the food system, the greater chance there is of becoming a society with empty dumpsters.

"Free Food" or "Garbage"? Seeing Past the Framing Effect

  I wasn't down with dumpster diving at first. It had nothing to do with food quality - I ate dumpster food without a second thought. Plus, I've ingested my fair share of unhealthy substances. It was the act of dumpster diving that really freaked me out. Dumpsters I’m familiar with are pretty much roach motels and I generally shy away from chance encounters with vermin. I imagined ripping open a bag and releasing a soupy river of moldy food and mysterious liquids. My mind was fretted with such gross hypotheticals, which all seem ridiculous now that I’ve seen the reality (and to be honest, that dumpster was cleaner than some college dorm rooms I’ve been in.)


 Before I could bring myself to go dumpster diving, I'd just help with post-dive tasks like sorting and washing food. Some mornings I’d wake up to find flowers hanging to dry, a fridge stocked with veggies, and bowls filled with fruit - all as if by magic. It didn't matter that the flowers were dying and the food had blemishes because it came at no cost. Well, no monetary cost. I had an idea of the labor involved, and I couldn't bring myself to engage.  It took a few nights of seeing my housemates return from excursions in the dead of winter shivering from head to toe before the guilt finally caved in. I could no longer reap the spoils without facing my fear: divin' down n' getting dirty in a dumpster.

It might seem strange that I had no problem eating dumpster food, but was so averse to dumpster diving. Or maybe not so strange when you think of the fact that omnivores have no problem eating meat, but few are willing to slaughter an animal. Sometimes mentally separating food from its source makes it more palatable. The dumpster diving case isn't quite parallel to eating meat because from cow to steak a number of “transformations” take place, whereas food that travels from to dumpster kitchen is identical. My initial qualm with dumpster diving was related to this idea of the Framing Effect. When presented with identical options, the context in which each is presented creates the illusion of a superior option. For instance, a glass half full is more appealing than a glass half empty, or a ton of feathers sounds lighter than a ton of rocks.

When it comes to dumpster diving, “free food,” sounds a lot better than “food from a dumpster” because the later frame comes attached with a slew of food taboos. The social convention is that things placed in the garbage become garbage (i.e. dirty, non-functional, and worthless), but dumpster divers know better. They see a free source of nutritious sustenance (much of the waste I’ve encountered are fruits and vegetables) that would otherwise become landfill. I could see the advantages, but couldn’t reconcile them with the social stigma engrained in my mind. So for a while I made a conscious effort to separate the two notions, seeing the food my housemates returned with as simply “free” and “nutritious” not that stuff deemed “unfit for consumption.” I was so worried that participating in dumpster diving would heighten my disgust and I’d see the process as degrading.

Luckily that wasn’t the case.  I’ll go into further detail about my first dumpster dive in another post, but suffice it say that I learned to reject the social taboos rather than consider them more valid. Scrounging for food in that dumpster felt respectable, not shameful. Because honestly, between a system that generates heaps on unnecessary waste and a community of people salvaging that waste, where should the stigma lie?