Posted on Aug 20th, 2026

Origins: Politics, Kinship, and the Mongoose

The Park Slope Food Co-op grew out of a moment when politics, community, and the search for a more wholesome way of living were inseparable. Neighborhood fliers brought people together around social issues that soon became our rallying point. Anxiety over American capitalist imperialism motivated us, and kinship grew among those who rejected bourgeois values. We believed that the pursuit of material possessions lay behind much of humanity's worst behavior.

Although we held different beliefs and proposed different solutions to the problems facing the world, we shared concern over the United States' role in other nations. The Vietnam War, along with opposition to President Nixon and his administration, became the common thread that united us. Our anger toward capitalism was constant and, in our view, justified. Discourse over the virtues of communism, socialism and similar economic strategies was constant.

As we pursued alternative lifestyles, the benefits of communal living and the need to buy food collectively became clear. Gentrification had not yet begun in this neighborhood of single-family brownstones, most built around the turn of the century. With large, affordable rentals readily available, communes began to form.

After several meetings, we agreed that our group needed a name that reflected our shared identity. Elephant's Memory had a popular song titled "Mongoose" (Click here to listen to it!) and its image suited us: the mongoose, a small predator of snakes, became our metaphor for confronting evil. After a vote, the Mongoose was officially established. Soon afterward, that loose political identity began to turn into something more practical.

From Political Identity to Practical Work

The shift from Mongoose to the Food Co-op was less a break than a narrowing of purpose. A broad political identity gradually found practical expression in the daily work of feeding ourselves: buying collectively, eating more deliberately, and trying to live according to the values we debated.

The Park Slope Food Co-op began in 1973 as a small collective of like-minded, socially conscious neighbors who wanted access to healthy food at better prices. At the time, organic food was rarely found in local supermarkets. Many shoppers, unfamiliar with its benefits, viewed it as a "hippie generation" fad, so demand among the general public was limited.

A popular Lancer publication for children by Victor Lindlahr, You Are What You Eat, sparked discussion about the man-made poisons people ingest every day. For us, the search for a wholesome lifestyle made this mission, even with a five a.m. wake-up call, the obvious choice.

We followed different paths on different days, always seeking answers and hoping for certainty. Political discourse gradually became secondary, but we agreed on the need for healthy food. Once political differences were set aside, it was hard to argue over food. When we met, whatever food was available was shared.

Inside the Communes

When I visited commune members in their brownstone homes, the floor plans, fireplaces, and woodwork felt familiar, but the disorder was striking. Small children, wearing only disposable, smelly diapers, with faces showing that lunch had been both enjoyable and messy, ran wildly through the house with no restraint. It reflected a belief that a relaxed approach to child rearing should take precedence over traditional rules. This permissiveness seemed to be a political statement: liberty was paramount, and good intentions were the guiding principle.

Huge metal pots of corn on the cob, red beans, brown rice, collard greens, dark multigrain loaves of bread, and more were always on or near the stove, ready to eat. The scent of steamed food drifted from the kitchen and filled the house, suggesting that guests were welcome. The living quarters looked as if a tornado had passed through, but a sense of peace and comradery permeated the air. Amongst the chaos, harmony ruled.

Growth, Division, and Reflection

This Brooklyn institution grew from a small grassroots group of about twenty people meeting in a mothballed fire station into a nonprofit organization with more than 17,000 members, each required to contribute time to keeping the shelves stocked. Today, it is the largest nonprofit food co-op in the United States.

Recent media reports suggest that the original impulse behind the Mongoose group's transformation, the shared goal of obtaining healthy, affordable nutrition is now overtaken by a renewed desire to make political statements. Members who voted to boycott products from the West Bank and Israel aligned themselves with the BDS, or Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions, movement, which I see as antisemitic in nature. I question,

"why does opposition to Israels' policies treat the Jewish state differently than any other nation? Christians, Muslims other religious and LGBTQ folk around the world are killed daily, yet no boycotts against the perpetrators occur."

There is now conflict and division among the members. They have found a way to argue about food and even about the definition of evil. The kinship once shared has fractured, which makes the old Mongoose metaphor feel newly ironic. A group that once imagined itself confronting evil now struggles over where evil begins, who defines it, and whether shared purpose can survive that argument.

What was a search for fellowship and nourishment now raises a harder question: whether any community built around shared ideals can avoid turning those ideals into conflict. The answer may lie in looking honestly at the past and at all sides. When we recognize the suffering and victimization of others, empathy and forgiveness for ourselves and others comes into play. Judgment and division gives way to common cause. Historically speaking, we are all shaped by the wounds of the past.

Perhaps the way back is not another argument, but a return to the co-op's simplest founding act: feeding people. In the beginning we were united around the practical work of nourishment, perhaps now the members could do so again by helping homeless neighbors. In this way we will nourish one another.

Danny Suster
Park Slope Lover
Learn more at ChasingTheMongoose.com