Why are food banks still relevant?

Laurelle looked down at the list in front of her. Someone had put a smiley face instead of tick beside the peanut butter but a sad face by the marmite, and a wee note by the canned chickpeas & lentils – “I don’t know what to do with these, but I’d like to.”  

Laurelle loved the afternoons she came into to help pack food parcels. “Parcels full of love,” she called them. She remembered back to two years ago, when she had been on the receiving end of this love. She’d left a complicated and difficult relationship that she didn’t want to leave, but in the end, had been left with no other choice. It meant packing up her kids and leaving everything, including the car, even though it was in her name. It also meant she was carrying the debt still owing on the car.  

With only a few clothes, toys and blankets, Laurelle and her kids had been taken in by a friend until they managed to find a new place to live. They were so excited about their new place, despite having very little furnishings, not even beds, plates or pots and things for the kitchen. They had spent the afternoon as a whānau drawing pictures of their good memories and their dreams for the future. These colourful moments now covered the living room wall – the wall of hope.  

Laurelle remembered how hard it was to ask for her first food parcel, fearful that people would think she was a bad mother. She had gone to WINZ first to ask for help. They had given her a loan for the fridge, washing machine and school uniforms but had declined her for food. When she had gone to the community centre to ask for a food parcel, she was greeted with a smile at the door, “Kia ora, welcome, come in. Would you like a cuppa tea or coffee? There’s a bowl of fruit on the table, help yourself, and some activities in the corner for the kiddies.” It was like visiting Nana’s house, with so much aroha to go around. 

And now, here she was, able to offer that manaaki and aroha to others.  

*This story is complied from several experiences at differing community food services. Names and locations have been changed to protect those who shared their experiences..

 

Why do food banks exist?

Ladder reaches up to an open yellow lit window surrounded by yellow stars against a dark blue night sky background

The original model for food banks:

Providing a hand up, not a handout

Food banks and community food providers evolved as a way of sharing our own pantries with other people in need in our communities. As neo-liberal economic ideas took centre stage in the 1980s and 90s, food banks grew in number to feed the record numbers of unemployed and underemployed people, and families that began to struggle on only one income. By the end of the 1990s, food banks were cemented as part of our society’s new normal, having become a fully-fledged social service delivery model rather than just informally sharing with neighbours struggling to get by.  

In the 21st century, we’ve seen the distribution of food parcels steadily increase each year, with regular peaks at Christmas and during economic hard times. Food parcel numbers spiked in the two years following the global financial crisis and then skyrocketed during COVID lockdowns due to insecure employment, zero-hour contracts disappearing, shock to distribution chains, and supermarkets removing all specials pricing.  

After over 50 years of food banks, the funding model for community food infrastructure remains uncertain. Community food providers rely on public generosity, currently tied to the ever-tightening purse strings of people - amid the cost-of-living crisis. The manaakitanga of people donating an extra few dollars or cans of food help to keep foodbank shelves stocked.  

We don’t want food banks to exist. We long to be a country where everyone can access enough good-quality, affordable, culturally-appropriate food in close proximity to where they live. We want to be a country where we all have enough and are all able to help our neighbours, whānau and those going through hard times. Together, that could be our reality. 

 

Why do people need food banks today?

Today, more people are food insecure than ever previously recorded in Aotearoa. 27% of our children – that is 263,000 tamariki - live in homes where food sometimes run out. Food banks are distributing food parcels at around twice the rate they were before COVID. In our current economic climate, unemployment is yet to peak. How we respond to this persistent need for food reveals what we choose to value, as a society. 

From the approximately 500 foodbanks across Aotearoa New Zealand, Kore Hiakai collects data from around 100 sites. We document the number of people reliant on receiving food support. In December, the kai that was shared in this way across our communities fed 103,628 people. The Christmas rush makes December a busy month.

Despite growing numbers of people now facing sudden financial vulnerability, through no fault of their own, food banks are equipped to operate at their best when it comes to providing bursts of short-term, emergency assistance.  In the last year, most people (around 70-80%) who used a food bank did so about five times. Whānau usually access a food bank either once a fortnight, or monthly. That is, a few one-off food parcels that are a helping hand in a time of need. This is the model originally intended for foodbanks - providing a hand up, not a handout.

However, the remaining 20-30% of families, who are just as highly skilled in managing their resources having done everything to make their budgets stretch, are still in need of ongoing food assistance. Families who require persistent food support have a variety of income sources, at least a third of them are dual-income families. Unwaged tertiary students, superannuants, minimum wage and under-employed earners, as well as people receiving a benefit deserve a longer-term solution that enables them to afford their basic needs.   

 

How do food banks help people experiencing poverty? 

Image credits: 1. Reach the Light, Nihat Dursun, 2. Monique Jackson for Fine Acts

When incomes are consistently less than the basic non-negotiable costs of living like rent, power, transport, health, and school fees – then spending on food shrinks. The chronic unaffordability of food for so many people in Aotearoa New Zealand leads to poorer educational and health outcomes, a lost potential that’s ultimately paid for by our society being made worse off. The constant battle to make ends meet costs people their dignity and reinforces a sense of hopelessness. Read more: Further research in our Ka Mākona report highlights the impact of inadequate incomes across Aotearoa.  Without long-term solutions, community food services like food banks are always going to be needed, to uplift whānau,bring health and wellbeing and value the contribution they make to our communities

Most community food responses begin with aroha – that is to align ourselves in care with another. Community food services operate in a variety of ways, typically with around 60% of the food received through a combination of public donation and networks of rescued and surplus kai. Of the remaining 40%, a portion is purchased with government funding. While a seemingly small component of what makes up food parcel resourcing, government funding offers some stability and serves as a vital resource, helping food banks keep the lights on and the fridges running. This funding currently may be significantly reduced or entirely removed in our country’s upcoming budget.   

 

So are food banks needed? Yes, but they are not a long-term solution.  

Immediate ongoing food assistance remains a temporary solution in an economy that values profit and productivity above the wellbeing of our people and the world we live in.  

Community food services are an extension of our own pantries, our own supermarket shop, our own garden, our own surplus. They offer an opportunity for us to reach across our communities and hold each other up in hard times. Sometimes we know each other, sometimes we don’t. Any occasion to extend our simple generosity and share our commitment to being in community with and for each other, is our collective strength, especially in times of global uncertainty.  

Most of us can’t predict when a series of events, both within and beyond our control, might mean that we are the ones receiving rather than giving. But when both giving and receiving happen through aroha, we are all uplifted. 

Thank you to all our food banks, social supermarkets, community meal providers, free stores, food co-ops, food rescue, pātaka kai, māra kai, food producers, community gardens, and all those who work and volunteer to make good food accessible to whānau across Aotearoa.  

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