By now, the name Tarek al-Tayyib Mohamed Bouazizi ought to be permanently burned into your memory. He was the fruit and vegetable vendor in the Tunisian town of Sidi Bouzid who set himself on fire after apparently corrupt officials accused him of trading without a licence and confiscated his cart and weighing scales.
His fight against the authorities had already attracted attention and support locally, but it was his self-immolation on 17 December 2010 that lit the revolutionary touchpaper across North Africa and parts of the Middle East, sparking a series of events which, at the time of going to press, has seen leaders toppled in Tunisia, Egypt and potentially Libya too. Furthermore, the Tunisian tinderbox has ignited protests in favour of social and political reform across the region, in places such as Morocco, Algeria, Iran, Jordan, Syria, Yemen, Bahrain and Oman, echoing the kind of domino effect seen in eastern Europe during the late 1980s.
Of course, it’s a little simplistic to say that the upheaval taking place currently in the Arab world stems entirely from Mr Bouazizi’s act of defiance, but the symbolism does tell us something about our business: the fresh produce trade is ingrained in the fabric of any society, not just the Walmart-shaped retail landscapes of the western world, but also the eastern European nations we saw throw off their Communist shackles two decades ago and now the ambitious, youthful societies of the Maghreb and the Middle East.
The desire for greater self-determination among the electorate makes perfect sense to us here in consumerland. Like the late UK fruit and vegetable seller Steve Thoburn, nicknamed the Metric Martyr after refusing to sell his produce in metric (kg, g) rather than imperial (lb, oz) measures, what people value most is freedom to choose. Because it’s so fundamental, fruit takes on added symbolism when associated with chasing that freedom.
