Carlo Petrini, the Italian gastronome who founded the Slow Food movement in the 1980s, has died at the age of 76. His passing was confirmed by the organisation on Tuesday, prompting tributes from British food sovereignty advocates who credited him with reshaping the global conversation around food production and consumption.
Petrini launched Slow Food in 1986 as a direct response to the opening of a McDonald's near the Spanish Steps in Rome. What began as a protest against fast food evolved into a worldwide network of 160 countries, advancing principles of local food systems, biodiversity, and small-scale agriculture. The movement's central tenet, that food should be good, clean, and fair, challenged the industrial logic of agribusiness and its environmental costs.
In the United Kingdom, Petrini's influence is deeply felt among farmers, chefs, and activists who argue that food sovereignty is inseparable from climate action. The Soil Association, Sustain, and the Land Workers' Alliance were among those issuing statements on Wednesday. “Carlo Petrini taught us that the way we grow, distribute, and eat food is a political act,” said a spokesperson for the UK Food Ethics Council. “His work provided a blueprint for a food system that regenerates soil rather than depleting it, and that prioritises human dignity over profit margins.”
The timing of Petrini's death is poignant. The global food system is responsible for approximately one-third of greenhouse gas emissions, according to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Industrial agriculture drives deforestation, soil degradation, and biodiversity loss, while ultra-processed foods contribute to a global health crisis. Slow Food's emphasis on agroecology, seed saving, and local supply chains offers a systemic alternative, one that British proponents argue must be scaled up.
Dr. Helena Vance, Science and Climate Correspondent, notes that the movement's principles are grounded in physical reality. “Agroecological methods such as crop rotation, polyculture, and reduced tillage sequester carbon in soil and enhance resilience to extreme weather. They are not nostalgic romanticism. They are evidence-based strategies that mitigate emissions while securing food supply.” Vance points to research from the University of Oxford showing that regenerative farming can reduce net emissions by 40% or more compared to conventional methods.
Petrini's legacy also includes the Ark of Taste, a catalogue of endangered foods, and the Slow Food Foundation for Biodiversity. In the UK, these projects have helped protect native breeds of livestock and heritage vegetable varieties, creating market incentives for conservation. The movement's influence is visible in the rise of farmers' markets, community-supported agriculture, and urban food growing initiatives across the country.
Yet the scale of the challenge remains vast. The UK imports roughly half of its food, a dependence that leaves it exposed to supply chain disruptions from climate impacts. Petrini consistently advocated for relocalisation, but progress has been slow. British food sovereignty advocates see his death as a call to action. “We have lost a mentor, but his message is more urgent than ever,” said a Land Workers’ Alliance representative. “We must build a food system that doesn't destroy the conditions for its own existence.”
As the global community mourns, the question is whether Petrini's vision can move from the margins to the mainstream. In a world of rising emissions, soil depletion, and biodiversity collapse, his principles are no longer optional. They are survival.
