What was wasted before the plate

At a big family iftar in Al Ain, the table is always set for twice the people who are there. That is the point. Generosity is measured in what is left over.

And afterwards, someone always feels bad about it. A cousin says it is a shame. Someone wraps a plate for a neighbour. A younger guest refuses seconds because she read something about waste.

The feeling is decent. Nobody should throw away a good meal that could feed someone else.

But the guilt is pointed at the smallest part of the problem.

By the time that food reached the table, most of what was lost had already gone. Fruit left on trees because it was not worth the labour to pick the last of it. Vegetables that bruised on a long road. Crates rejected for looking wrong. Stock that sat too long in a warehouse. None of that is visible from a dining room, and none of it is in the hands of the cousin with the wrapped plate.

This is a pattern far beyond food. When a problem is big and spread out, we tend to hand it to individuals, because individuals are easy to talk to and easy to make feel responsible. Clean your plate. Turn off the light. Bring your own bag. Each of those matters a little. The large changes sit in how things are grown, moved, priced and stored, which is where the effort does most good.

Asking people to try harder at home is a slow road. Changing the system that decides what gets wasted before anyone sits down is faster, and it is where attention belongs.

The plate is where waste becomes visible. It is rarely where it begins.