Food Fight

Part 4

by Kristen Lombardi

Cities may have battled Food Not Bombs elsewhere, but Worcester officials aren't trying to follow those footsteps. In fact, says Gagliastro, inspectors had no idea of the historical tensions between authority and the group. They've no desire to shut down the operation, he says, but want to help activists "serve food the right way.

"We look like ogres trying to persecute these people," adds Gagliastro, who explains that the city tried to help FNB by offering to waive the $100 permit fee. "We're not interested in the group's politics. We're only looking to get them permitted."

In officials' eyes, FNB activists aren't exempt from state sanitary regulations because they're not donating food to a licensed agency, such as the Friendly House or Jeremiah's Inn. Instead, they're cooking food at home, then handing it out for free; the operation lacks an obvious licensee. As for the federal Good Samaritan Act, Gagliastro has never heard of it.

"Even vegetarian food can carry bacteria," he says. "People served by Food Not Bombs deserve the same assurances as paying customers that they're getting a safe, wholesome product."

Worcester residents, however, are perplexed, even angered, by the city's insistence on regulating such kindly activity. Members have noticed more people volunteering or donating money to FNB since the charges became public. The day after charges appeared in the T&G, three Catholic Worker volunteers distributed fliers opposing the city's action.

"Regulations are getting in the way of such a simple thing as giving away food to hungry people," says David Maciewski, a Catholic Worker volunteer, who sees the permit process as an obstruction. "It's another disincentive [for citizens] wanting to do something for others."

Besides, Maciewski knows of one organization that feeds homeless people without a food-establishment permit -- Catholic Worker's residential home. Because of this discrepancy, he adds, officials' claims that FNB needs a permit seem disingenuous.

"Maybe the permit has more to do with the site of Food Not Bombs' operation than with public-health concerns," he suggests.

Although Worcester's emergency food providers understand the importance of food safety, a handful of them believe the city's action has to do with FNB street activity ("The city has a tradition of squelching rabble-rousers," says one provider). They see merit in the operation; activists serve at a time when existing agencies are closed, so they're giving hungry people food for long weekends, providers say.

If officials were truly concerned about feeding the hungry, FNB supporters say, then they would ensure food safety without criminally charging activists -- an inherently antagonistic approach. For instance, Maciewski says, inspectors could ask activists to buy cleansers, or city councilors could negotiate a deal with a nearby church or restaurant so FNB members could use a licensed kitchen.

Gagliastro says, however, state sanitation codes require criminal charges for those who avoid regulations. He says, "If members come and fill out an application, we can help get them off the hook."

Such a scenario seems unlikely, especially since activists are hosting a November 1 concert to raise money for a legal defense fund. Chapters throughout New England will rally for Worcester FNB on November 11 and local supporters like Maciewski intend to hold a vigil outside the courthouse.

No doubt, Worcester FNB will fight hard to continue operating regulation-free, but whether officials are the ones to back down -- as has happened in virtually every city with an FNB chapter -- remains to be seen.

On to back Kristen Lombardi can be reached at klombardi[a]phx.com.