It’s June, and I’m standing at the fruit section of a Berlin supermarket. I want to buy apples, not just to eat, but to illustrate a point. These apples are the protagonists of a story about global supply chains, cooperative alternatives, and the question of how we, as a society, manage our resources. After all, apples are Germany’s favorite fruit. So, let’s begin:
In June, I was invited to give a keynote at the Academy Session "Regenerative Alliances for Thriving Commons" as part of the Creative Bureaucracy Festival. The aim was to raise awareness for the commons, by which I mean shared resources that belong neither to the state nor to the market but are collectively maintained and used. Like a public community garden, an open-source seed archive, or a solidarity-based infrastructure. In order to illustrate this, I was on the lookout for an example, an everyday object from daily life, that people could relate to
That’s when the idea came to me. I would present the audience with two apples. One I had bought from a cooperative grocery store in Berlin: a regional apple from Brandenburg. The other came from a conventional supermarket: Pink Lady®, imported from South Africa, complete with a ® symbol and a heart-shaped sticker.
Two apples, almost identical in appearance. And yet they couldn’t be more different. What stories do these two fruits tell? What systems stand behind them? And what do they reveal about our future?
Pink Lady® vs. Nameless Regional Apple
The Pink Lady apple comes from South Africa. It is the product of a highly optimized global agricultural and distribution system, where plant variety protection, cultivation, logistics, and marketing are tightly regulated. Only selected farmers are allowed to cultivate Pink Lady apples under specific conditions. These include high licensing fees and strict requirements for quality and branding.
According to recent figures from Fruit Logistica, Germany accounts for 24 percent of European sales, making it one of the most important markets. Sales are rising compared to the previous season - despite consistently higher prices than for regional apples.
In return, Pink Lady fans get access to the lifestyle universe of “Pink My Life”: from newsletters to an online magazine, promotions, contests, recipes, and even a bee-saving program. This apple communicates globally and non-stop. Its tonality is rooted in the doublespeak of conventional CSR programs: sustainability, responsibility, social values, ecological footprint - all blended, shaken, and stirred.
The apple from Brandenburg, by contrast, comes from a biodynamic farm that is part of a solidarity-based agriculture initiative. SoLaWis (Solidarity-based Agriculture) treat food production as a common good: consumers co-finance the farmland, share the harvest, and co-decide what is grown, independent of market prices. This creates a local supply system in which the apple plays a role not as the central product but as one part of a greater whole. The cultivation of the soil, the preservation of biodiversity, ecosystem thinking, working conditions, and active community participation form the framework for cultivation, harvesting, and distribution of the produce. The apple is harvested when it is ripe, not when the market demands it. Transport distances are kept short, storage uses as little energy as possible, and value creation remains in the region.
The apple was sold by SuperCoop, a cooperative organic supermarket in Berlin run collectively by its 1,800 members. Every member commits to contributing three hours per month, whether stocking shelves, operating the register, or working the welcome desk. The supermarket is co-owned by its members, which means they directly benefit from each purchase.
Instead of a fan club and prize giveaways, they invest thought, effort, and shared risk. In turn, they share the rewards of a network that considers people, soil, climate, and culture as interconnected.
That’s a brief overview of the systemic differences between these two apple varieties. So let’s move on to the ecological externalities.
The Storytelling Power of Corporations
If you try to find precise numbers on how many CO₂ equivalents a Pink Lady apple produces, you'll figure that the data is frustratingly vague. It always depends: Was it shipped or flown in? In what season? Under which conditions? How long was it stored, and at what temperature? And, of course, the farming method also plays a role. Faced with this bureaucratic mess of variables, it’s easy to lose sight of the core question.
But in the end, common sense is enough: It’s a no-brainer that an apple flown or shipped from the Global South emits far more CO₂ than one grown locally. Then there’s the issue of artificial irrigation: Pink Lady apples are often cultivated in regions increasingly affected by water scarcity. Apples need about 700–800 liters of water per kilogram to grow. I wonder what kinds of local conflicts this creates.
Searching for answers leads to equally sparse data. Greenpeace, Food Monitor, and Utopia have all published critical articles in past years about the growing dominance of so-called club apples. But these make up only a tiny fraction of the total search results for “Pink Lady.” The rest is tightly controlled by the Pink Lady marketing machine, which dominates SEO and narrative framing. Across 25 national websites, the company shares detailed stories about cultivation methods, sustainability cycles, and yields. The presentation is smooth and well-packaged to appear beneficial for all.
Even if some of it were true, important questions remain: Why does EU agricultural and trade policy tolerate the rising mass import of these apples, even though flavorful apples grow right here on our doorstep? How can Apple and Pear Australia Limited, the company behind the Pink Lady brand, so blatantly push planetary boundaries without facing competitive disadvantages? Why are natural costs caused by overshooting planetary limits still systematically externalized in EU trade agreements? Why do we accept that such practices structurally disadvantage regional producers?
Club apples like Pink Lady highlight the imbalance between critical education and market-driven visibility, powered by multimillion-dollar budgets of global corporations. While independent voices have long warned of the ecological and social consequences of the club apple system, the brand owners’ storytelling continues to dominate public perception. An export-oriented agribusiness controls narratives, market shares, and resources, at the expense of regional alternatives.
And what about the consumers? A quick survey at my local Kaufland in Potsdam revealed that people are apparently willing to pay €3.33 per kilo for Pink Lady apples in July 2025. By comparison, a kilo of regional apples costs €2.29, more than a euro less. To mask the price gap, Pink Lady apples are sold in attractively designed 900g baskets for €2.99 each. From heart-shaped cardboard cutouts, the rosy apples peek out like a promise.
Are they at least healthy?
The healthiest part of an apple, alongside the vitamins, is its content of secondary plant compounds, technically referred to as polyphenol. This substances taste, like many natural and healthy things, slightly bitter or astringent. Polyphenols have anti-inflammatory properties and protect cells from free radicals. Many old apple varieties, especially tart or sweet-sour ones like Boskoop, contain around 200mg of polyphenols per 100g of fresh weight.
By contrast, the much sweeter-tasting club apples average only 50–60mg. This is because the polyphenol content was systematically reduced during the breeding process - to enhance flavor. Here, as so often in industrial agriculture, sweetness becomes the primary selling point. As long as the fruit sugar hits, it doesn’t seem to matter that it comes at the expense of nutritional value and natural diversity.
Should we also talk about pesticides? In a 2018 test by the consumer magazine Öko-Test, Pink Lady apples from Aldi Süd were found to contain residues of three different pesticides, including one classified as “concerning.” Well, so be it. We've gotten used to this kind of news and aren’t surprised anymore. Sure, the eco-nerd is technically right, but now it’s getting exhausting, right?
Get to the point!
The Taste of the Future
At the taste test during the Creative Bureaucracy Festival, where the two apples were finally compared, barely any differences were noted. But the story behind them surprised many. Our everyday lives are so packed, and we're constantly distracted, so we rarely have the capacity to follow such causal chains.
That’s why the glossy narratives of corporations win: because their enormous marketing budgets allow them to target and monetize the precise millisecond when we make a decision. They succeed in pushing images and messages through the narrow gateway of our limbic system in the blink of an eye. And so we choose the apples with the hearts on the packaging, because hey, we’re emotional beings too, right?
But what if we sourced our food through cooperatives, SoLaWis (solidarity farming initiatives), or direct farm sales? I know, this brings up the next level of complexity: But the price! That’s just for privileged people! Perhaps, at first glance. But on closer inspection, the truth is: we all pay - just differently. With Pink Lady, we pay in global transport emissions, pesticide residues, brand markups, and the loss of regional biodiversity.
The price at the supermarket checkout is only a fraction of the true cost of that apple. The rest is paid by others: people in the Global South, future generations, and ultimately everyone affected by climate change.
SoLaWis often use solidarity-based pricing because they don’t want to be places only accessible to the privileged. The SuperCoop in Berlin or the Food Hub in Munich, for example, offer access to organic products at lower average prices than comparable organic supermarket chains. These initiatives are driven by the belief that healthy, local food should be accessible to people of all income levels. And the great thing is: you don’t have to worry about what you’re buying, or what kind of externalities your purchase is supporting. Members of food co-ops know exactly who the suppliers are, what the markup is, and collectively decide what’s socially fair and what isn’t.
We hold the power to choose what kind of apple we bite into. We can join food initiatives that allow us to benefit from their growth. We can (re)train our palates to appreciate the rich flavors of heritage and local varieties. We can make shopping a community experience and find joy in a small but excellent selection. We can pool our purchasing habits and organize cooperatively.
Yes, this takes time. Yes, it requires some effort in terms of logistics and social coordination. But that effort pays off: It makes us independent of global corporations, strengthens local economies, and reconnects us with what we eat.
Living and eating within planetary boundaries is possible. It begins with a decision: to no longer accept everything as it is, but to help shape it.