Eight Essential Comics to Understand Contemporary America

The real history of America isn’t told in speeches or textbooks. It hides in diners and basements, in motel rooms and parking lots, in the quiet space between one life and another. The real America is a country of restlessness, guilt, and a kind of endless yearning — the America of loneliness.

Across eight graphic novels —by Alex de Campi, Daniel Clowes, Adrian Tomine, Charles Burns, Emil Ferris, and the Hernández brothers— runs the same invisible thread: the portrait of a nation trying to recognize itself.

Alex de Campi’s Bad Karma starts on the road. Two war veterans —one Black, one white— drive across the South trying to fix a crime that can’t really be undone. What they find isn’t redemption, just the same wound running through their country — violence, racism, and denial that never quite go away. The American highway, once a symbol of freedom, feels more like a confession that doesn’t end.

Daniel Clowes, in Patience and Ghost World, brings that same sense of disillusionment to the suburbs. His America is fluorescent and numb — a world of pastel-colored boredom where people fill the void with irony, fantasy, or small talk. Patience sends a man through time to repair his life; Ghost World leaves two young women wandering through a town that seems drained of meaning. Clowes paints the emotional paralysis of middle-class life: a society so self-aware it can no longer feel.

Then the nightmare turns inward with Charles Burns’s Black Hole and Emil Ferris’s My Favorite Thing Is Monsters. Both turn loneliness into flesh.

In Black Hole, a strange disease spreads through 1970s Seattle, twisting teenagers into strange, mutant shapes — an image of shame, desire, and fear. Burns’s heavy black lines make the skin itself look haunted, like America’s uneasy relationship with its own desires.

Ferris, meanwhile, turns the monstrous into liberation. Her heroine, Karen, a queer girl in 1960s Chicago, draws herself as a werewolf in her diary. Through her eyes, Ferris creates a sprawling portrait of difference, memory, and resistance. Where Burns sees the curse of transformation, Ferris finds its beauty. Both reveal the same truth: America fears what it cannot name, and yet, in that fear, it finds its most honest art.

Adrian Tomine’s Intruders brings us into the city. His characters —quiet, anxious, polite— move through apartments and offices like ghosts in plain sight. The son of Japanese immigrants, Tomine captures that feeling of modern exhaustion: the illusion of being connected all the time, while feeling completely alone. His pages are neat, clean, and a little cold — an America that shines on the outside but feels hollow once you touch it.

Finally, Jaime and Gilbert Hernández open a different door — one that leads to the parts of America the others never draw. In The Education of Hopey Glass and Human Diastrophism, the Chicano brothers behind Love and Rockets bring a bilingual, brown, punk, and tender world to life.

Jaime follows Hopey, a woman growing older but not softer, still fighting for her place in a culture obsessed with youth. Gilbert sets his stories in Palomar, an imaginary Latin American town full of noise, humor, and heartbreak. Together, they reinvent what “American” even means — not purity or perfection, but mixture, rhythm, contradiction. Their stories beat with life: brown skin, loud music, and stubborn tenderness.

Together, these eight works redraw the emotional map of the United States.

De Campi and Clowes show its moral exhaustion.

Burns and Ferris bring out its monsters — the ones inside, the ones outside, and the ones nobody talks about.

Tomine and the Hernández brothers give voice to those who live in translation, caught between languages, between belonging and loss.

In the end, what they tell us is that America’s real story —its most honest myth— isn’t about triumph, but about longing. Under the highways and billboards, there’s another kind of empire quietly spreading — the empire of solitude.

Because the real history of America —its secret diary, you could say— isn’t written in wars or elections, but in drawings, in the dialogue balloons, in the small silences that hold them together.

Seven Essential Graphic Novels to Understand the Situation in Palestine

 The conflict in Palestine cannot be reduced to headlines or slogans. It is a complex web of history, identity, occupation, resistance, and daily life. These seven graphic novels offer different lenses—historical, journalistic, and personal—through which readers can grasp its human and political dimensions.

1. History of Jerusalem – Vincent Lemire & Christophe Gaultier

Two thousand years of history unfold in this extraordinary visual journey through one of the world’s most contested cities. By blending meticulous historical research with accessible storytelling, the authors help readers understand the deep historical roots that continue to shape the region’s present.

2. Footnotes in Gaza – Joe Sacco

A masterpiece of graphic journalism, Joe Sacco’s investigation reconstructs a forgotten massacre that took place in Gaza in the 1950s. Through painstaking interviews and historical documents, Sacco uncovers events that echo with tragic resonance in the decades that followed, revealing how cycles of violence and silence perpetuate suffering.

3. Journalism (Reportages) – Joe Sacco

In this collection of journalistic comics, Sacco explores several global conflicts, including a remarkable chapter on the Palestinian Intifada. His stark black-and-white drawings convey the intensity of life under occupation, giving voice to those who rarely appear in mainstream narratives.

4. How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less – Sarah Glidden

In this deeply personal memoir, an American Jewish woman travels to Israel on a Birthright trip, expecting to connect with her heritage. Instead, she finds herself questioning the contradictions of Israeli society and confronting the harsh realities faced by the Palestinian people. Glidden’s quiet honesty and watercolor art make this an intimate reflection on identity and empathy.

5. Jerusalem: Chronicles from the Holy City – Guy Delisle

Through his trademark minimalist style and dry humor, Canadian artist Guy Delisle chronicles a year living in East Jerusalem while his wife works for Doctors Without Borders. His observations of checkpoints, divided neighborhoods, and small acts of humanity capture the absurdity and resilience of daily life under occupation.

6. Living in Occupied Territory (Vivre en terre occupée) – José Pablo García

Published in collaboration with Action Against Hunger, this reportage comic follows the author’s journey across the West Bank and Gaza. Through encounters with farmers, students, and aid workers, García documents the concrete realities of restrictions, walls, and water scarcity, translating humanitarian data into human stories.

7. Mike’s Place: A True Story of Love, Blues, and Terror in Tel Aviv – Jack Baxter, Joshua Faudem & Koren Shadmi

Set in a popular seaside bar, this book recounts the 2003 Hamas bombing that shattered a space known for coexistence and music. By intertwining the perspectives of survivors and witnesses, it reminds readers that beyond politics, every tragedy begins in ordinary lives interrupted.

---

Together, these seven works form a powerful mosaic of voices and visions—spanning centuries, ideologies, and emotions. They invite us not only to understand Palestine, but to feel its humanity.

WITHOUT THE RIGHT TO FOOD, THERE CAN BE NO HUMAN DIGNITY

Keynote at the World Food Day 2025 High-Level Roundtable

On 16 October 2025, I had the honour of speaking at the High-Level Roundtable “Faith in Action for Food Security, Human Dignity and a Sustainable Future,” held to mark World Food Day. The event brought together faith leaders, practitioners, and partners from Africa, Asia, Latin America, and the Caribbean to explore how faith, science, and human rights can come together to end hunger and advance dignity for all.

WITHOUT THE RIGHT TO FOOD, THERE CAN BE NO HUMAN DIGNITY

The right to adequate food is not a slogan, and it is not charity. It is a legally recognized human right, affirmed in Article 11 of the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights and reinforced by the Voluntary Guidelines on the Right to Food, adopted unanimously by all FAO Member States in 2004.

This right means that every person must have regular, permanent, and dignified access — physically and economically — to adequate, safe, nutritious, and culturally acceptable food, produced and consumed in a way that sustains life and respects human dignity.

In short, the right to food transforms food security from a policy aspiration into a legal duty.

If I had to summarize this right in two words, they would be dignity and entitlement. Dignity because access to food should never humiliate. The right to food affirms that every person is fully human — capable, deserving, and equal. Entitlement because it transforms moral duty into legal obligation. It defines what governments must do and must not do, turning compassion into accountability.

This shift moves the conversation from “How can we help?” to “What must we guarantee?”

TURNING PRINCIPLES INTO PRACTICE

The right to food implies that every government has three duties: to respect, to protect, and to fulfil the right to food. To respect means not to obstruct people’s access to food, land, or livelihoods. To protect means preventing others, including corporations or armed groups, from violating that access. To fulfil means taking action when people cannot feed themselves, through social protection, food assistance, or nutrition programmes.

This framework distinguishes rights-holders — all people, especially the most vulnerable — from duty-bearers such as governments and international organizations. It creates a relationship of accountability, not dependency.

THE STATE OF FOOD SECURITY — A WAKE-UP CALL

The SOFI 2025 Report shows only slight progress: global hunger fell from 8.5% in 2023 to 8.2% in 2024, yet 673 million people still face hunger. Almost half of them live in Africa, and projections suggest that by 2030, more than 500 million will still suffer chronic hunger.

About 2.3 billion people experienced food insecurity in 2024. Women and rural populations remain the most affected. The cost of a healthy diet reached 4.46 dollars per person per day, unaffordable for almost three-quarters of people in low-income countries.

Nutrition trends are mixed: while child stunting declined from 26% in 2012 to 23% in 2024, anaemia among women worsened and obesity continues to rise. Meanwhile, food price inflation — reaching up to 30% in low-income countries — has eroded wages and pushed millions deeper into food insecurity.

These numbers reveal that progress is fragile and deeply unequal.

RECOGNIZING THE RIGHT TO FOOD CHANGES EVERYTHING

Recognizing the right to food means changing how we act. It shifts focus from simply feeding people to creating conditions where everyone can feed themselves with dignity and autonomy.

It provides a governance framework where agriculture, trade, climate, and nutrition policies align toward one goal: realizing human rights. It demands accountability, transparency, and participation, turning “Zero Hunger” into an enforceable commitment.

And it aligns with what faith communities have always known — that food is sacred, and that feeding the hungry is not merely kindness, but an act of justice.

FAITH-BASED ORGANIZATIONS: PARTNERS IN DIGNITY

Faith-based organizations bring something unique to the realization of this right. Their strength lies not only in service delivery, but in their moral voice, their credibility, and the deep trust they hold within communities. They are often the first to respond and the last to leave. They mobilize people, volunteers, and networks that reach those most excluded. They bridge the gap between policies and real lives, turning the language of human rights into everyday action.

At FAO, we work hand in hand with these communities — together with Member States, the CFS, OHCHR, and the UN Special Rapporteur — to raise awareness, strengthen capacities, and turn the Right to Food Guidelines into meaningful change.

Because only together — through shared values and collective action — can we ensure that every law, every institution, and every programme truly upholds the right to food in practice.

MOVING FROM WORDS TO WILL

We are now just five years away from 2030. Hunger is not inevitable — it is a choice. And the opposite of hunger is not abundance — it is justice.

If we truly take the right to food seriously, then we must act accordingly. We must anchor it in law, treating food not as a commodity but as a human right. We must finance it, so that social protection and nutrition programmes reach every person, everywhere. We must monitor it, so that data leads to accountability — not just reports. We must protect it, even in times of conflict, crisis, or disaster. And we must teach it, so that the next generations grow up understanding that feeding others is not an act of charity, but an act of humanity.

Faith communities have always known this truth. They remind us that hope is not simply optimism — it is commitment put into action.

On this World Food Day, let us move together — faith, science, and policy — from words to will, from rights to reality, from data to dignity. Because every person, in every community, has the same right: to eat well, to live with dignity, and to belong to a world that refuses to accept hunger.

Youth, Resilience, and the Right to Food in the Near East and North Africa

 

This blog is based on my intervention during the Youth Assembly Session: Near East and North Africa Roundtable (YA03), held at FAO Headquarters on 14 October 2025.

When crisis or conflict strikes in the Near East and North Africa, food systems are often the first to break down. And when they do, it’s not only livelihoods that are lost — it’s dignity, stability, and the most basic human right: the right to food.

This right is still widely misunderstood. It is not charity, and it is not about providing food aid. It is the right of every person to have regular, permanent, and dignified access — physically and economically — to adequate, safe, nutritious, and culturally acceptable food, produced and consumed in a way that sustains life and respects human dignity. It obliges governments, even in times of war or disaster, to respect people’s access to food, to protect it from being taken away, and to fulfil it when it is denied. In other words, it turns food security from an aspiration into a legal duty.

In the NENA region, this right is under immense strain. We see it most dramatically in Gaza, where the deliberate destruction of food systems and the obstruction of humanitarian access have brought people to the edge of famine. As fragile signs of peace begin to appear, the question is whether they can last — because without food, there is no peace; and without peace, there is no right to food. The reconstruction of Gaza’s farms, fisheries, markets, and infrastructure will be a test of whether the world truly understands this link between food and peace.

But Gaza is not alone. Across the region — from Sudan to Yemen, from Syria to Lebanon — millions live amid instability, drought, and displacement. Economic shocks, climate extremes, and inequality deepen these crises, while a powerful demographic reality shapes the region’s future: nearly 60 percent of its people are under 30. The future of food in the Near East and North Africa depends on these young people — on their capacity to remain active, creative, and hopeful, even when the world around them seems to collapse.

FAO’s recent global report on the Status of Youth in Agrifood Systems shows that 44 percent of working youth worldwide are already employed in agrifood systems, and that food insecurity among them has increased sharply in recent years. That is not just a number — it is a warning. If we fail to support young people today, we risk losing the next generation of farmers, producers, and innovators who can sustain food systems tomorrow.

Safeguarding the right to food in times of crisis means placing human rights at the heart of response and recovery — ensuring that every humanitarian and reconstruction effort helps people regain the ability to feed themselves with dignity. It means protecting and restoring local food production even in conflict, by guaranteeing access to land, seeds, and markets, and by supporting small-scale farmers — particularly young people — who often keep communities alive when everything else collapses. It means empowering youth not as beneficiaries, but as leaders of change.

Across the region, we see inspiring examples: young entrepreneurs in Tunisia using digital platforms to connect farmers and consumers; cooperatives led by young women in Egypt preserving local foods and creating jobs. These stories are not exceptions — they are the foundation of resilience.

There is also a quieter transformation taking place — a shift in diets. Traditional, diverse, plant-rich foods are being replaced by imported, ultra-processed ones. This change, driven by urbanization and global markets, erodes both nutrition and culture. Protecting the right to adequate food also means protecting people’s access to healthy, sustainable diets that reflect their traditions, their climate, and their identity.

And there is no talking about food in this region without talking about water. The Near East and North Africa is the most water-stressed region on Earth. Without water, agriculture cannot survive, and food systems collapse. That is why FAO continues to emphasize the nexus between food, water, and peace.

Ultimately, defending the right to food in times of crisis is about defending life itself. It means ensuring that every measure we take — from emergency aid to long-term planning — restores people’s autonomy, dignity, and capacity to feed themselves and their communities. Youth are at the heart of this transformation. They carry the creativity, the energy, and the resilience that this region needs. Our role — as FAO and as partners — is to make sure that their rights, and the right to food for all, are not suspended in times of crisis, but strengthened by the way we choose to respond.

Rethinking debt through the lens of hunger

 Note: This blog post is based on the intervention of Juan Echanove at the event "Addressing the Debt and Development Crises in Developing Countries", co-organized by the Pontifical Academy of Social Sciences and Columbia University, on 20 June 2025.

The opinions expressed here are personal and do not necessarily reflect the official position of FAO.

Today, over 735 million people suffer from hunger. This figure has been increasing for eight consecutive years. Despite global progress in many areas, hunger remains a growing crisis, and its roots are not only climatic or agricultural. One of the most urgent, yet under-discussed, drivers is sovereign debt.

In many developing countries, the burden of debt is limiting—if not entirely disabling—the ability of governments to provide for their populations. The result is not just slower development or missed targets. It is hunger. When food programs are cut, when subsidies for rural communities are removed, and when nutritional safety nets collapse under the weight of austerity or fiscal conditionalities, people go hungry.

Many in the policy world speak of the need to “do no harm.” But hunger is already happening. We must be willing to acknowledge it as a direct harm linked to the current structure of debt responses. And if we are serious about development, then food must be treated as a non-negotiable element of any economic strategy.

Protecting food-related public spending

Public investments in food systems—school meals, nutrition programs, rural safety nets, agricultural support—must be explicitly protected in debt restructuring processes. These are not peripheral items. They are central to public health, social cohesion, and basic dignity.

Loan agreements and adjustment frameworks should contain built-in safeguards that prevent cuts to food-related budgets. Just as some sectors (like security or debt servicing itself) are shielded from austerity, food should be granted the same protection. It is a matter of survival, not discretion.

Requiring food security impact assessments

Debt sustainability frameworks must evolve. It is no longer acceptable to assess a country’s repayment capacity purely through fiscal indicators. Any debt strategy should also consider whether repayment can occur without pushing people into hunger.

Is the debt burden compatible with feeding the population? Will a given restructuring measure result in higher malnutrition or reduced access to basic food? These questions must be central—not optional—in any analysis.

Including food security as a core dimension of sustainability would shift the discussion away from abstract macroeconomics and anchor it in the lived reality of millions. Because if a country cannot feed its people under a given debt plan, then the plan is not sustainable in any meaningful sense.

Promoting debt-for-food swaps

Finally, it is time to think creatively. One promising avenue is to adapt the logic of debt-for-nature swaps to the food domain. In countries facing both high debt and high hunger, partial cancellation of debt could be exchanged for concrete, verifiable investments in food systems.

These could include sustainable agriculture, school feeding programs, nutrition-sensitive social protection, or the construction of local food infrastructure. This is not about easing debt for its own sake. It is about transforming financial relief into long-term human security.

Conclusion

The question we must ask, again and again, is simple: Are people eating?

If the answer is no, then the system is not working. No economic strategy can claim success if it undermines the basic conditions of human dignity. The right to food is not an abstract idea. It is a legally binding obligation, recognised by more than 170 countries in international treaties.

Debt responses that ignore this right are not just incomplete—they are unjust. And if a financial system fails to protect the most basic human needs, then it is the system—not the rights—that must be reformed.

 

 

Reclaiming the Right to Food:

 Why Law, Dignity, and Accountability Must Anchor Food Systems Transformation 

This article stems from my intervention at the launch of the FAO Right to Food Thematic Dialogue Series on 16 April 2025 in Geneva — but it is not a summary of a presentation. It is a reflection on the deeper meaning, legal grounding, and transformative power of the human right to adequate food. 

What follows is not a briefing but a call to reimagine how we think about food, justice, and governance in our time.

---

What is the Right to Food? It is one of the clearest, most operational rights in international law. Defined by the UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights in General Comment No. 12 (1999), it states:

"The right to food is realized when every man, woman and child, alone or in community with others, has physical and economic access at all times to adequate food or the means for its procurement."

Every word in that sentence matters — and every one has practical, measurable implications. "Every man, woman and child" means universality: this right applies everywhere, from a favela in Brazil to a refugee camp in Chad. “Alone or in community” recognizes that food is accessed both individually and collectively.

 “Physical access” asks whether infrastructure exists to reach food; “economic access” asks whether people can afford it. “At all times” refers to sustainability across seasons and shocks.

 “Adequate” means not just calories, but nutrition, safety, and cultural appropriateness. And "the means for its procurement" can mean employment, land, or social protection — like India’s Public Distribution System.

The Right to Food is not the same as food security. Food security is a status — a condition. The right to food is a legal entitlement. It answers different questions: not only do people have food, but why don’t they? Who is responsible? What legal recourse exists?

At its core, this right is about dignity and entitlement. It is about respecting people’s agency to access food with autonomy, not as a favor. It recognizes individuals as rights-holders — and governments as duty-bearers, legally bound to act.

A rights-based approach to food systems is structured by the PANTHER principles, which stand for Participation, Accountability, Non-discrimination, Transparency, Human dignity, Empowerment, and Rule of law. These are not abstract ideals — they are principles grounded in action. 

Participation means communities must have a say in shaping policy, as in Nepal’s Right to Food Act. Accountability implies people must be able to file complaints or seek justice — like India's grievance systems. 

Non-discrimination has been reinforced by courts in Colombia, which upheld the rights of Indigenous children to adequate food. 

Transparency is exemplified by Mexico’s front-of-pack labeling law that empowers consumers. 

Human dignity underpins elder care in Scotland, which includes food access that respects autonomy. 

Empowerment takes form in Brazil’s CONSEA, which involves civil society in food policy decisions. 

And rule of law is evident in South Africa, where courts upheld school meal programs during COVID-19.

Everyone is a rights-holder, but particular protection is owed to vulnerable groups: women, youth, children, Indigenous Peoples, persons with disabilities, and the elderly. 

Duty-bearers include States at all levels, but also international donors, trade actors, and the private sector. Each actor bears responsibilities to respect, protect, and fulfil this right.

Respect means not interfering — for example, not evicting communities from land where they grow food. Protect means regulating third parties, like preventing corporate land grabs or environmental harm. Fulfil means ensuring that laws, social protections, and services are in place to enable food access for all.

Beyond these, States must also eliminate discrimination in food systems; use their maximum available resources to realize this right; prevent violations before they occur; prioritize the elimination of hunger as a non-negotiable, immediate obligation; and cooperate internationally to support realization abroad and avoid harm through foreign policy.

When the right is violated, there must be remedies — at national, regional, and international levels. People should be able to turn to courts, ombudspersons, and human rights bodies to claim justice. These mechanisms are real, and they have delivered change.

Let us also confront the myths. The Right to Food is not vague — it is precisely defined. It is not about handing out food — it is about enabling access and equity. It is not just law — it is policy, practice, and transformation. It is not the same as food security — it is a legal framework. And it is not one issue among many — it is cross-cutting, touching health, climate, trade, gender, and more.

The Right to Food offers a coherent framework to repair fragmented policy and restore agency to those most affected by food insecurity. It is a tool for systems change, grounded in law and animated by justice.

We must act not out of charity, but obligation. Not out of policy convenience, but legal duty. And not in silos, but through integrated, participatory, and accountable systems.

Because food is not just about survival. It is about freedom, dignity, and power. And the right to food is the path toward realizing them all. 

--------------

The views expressed in this article are solely my own and do not necessarily reflect those of the FAO or any other organization.