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Can Sustainable Agriculture Feed The World?

Jess Lundie — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 00:57:04 +0000

A thoughtful reader left a provocative (no, not that kind, the thought kind) comment on a post of mine last summer, asking some interesting questions about industrial agriculture:

On a more serious note, do you think the industrial food system is bad in-and-of-itself, or in the ways it currently operates? Could the system be changed? More importantly, could we (as in all almost 7 billion of us) survive without the industrial food system? How do we address the issue of food distribution (and why aren’t we doing a better job of it now)? I’m not sure if there are solid answers to these questions. As it is, I’m just kind of thinking out loud.

I hit the first two questions in Can Industrial Agriculture Work?. Now on to the “more importantly.” It really is more important, because for now, if a solution involving changing our behavior doesn’t work for us, it’s not going to happen, no matter how good for the planet it may be.

Can sustainable agriculture feed the world?

Study after study shows that as far as yield per acre is concerned, sustainable agriculture done right outperforms industrial agriculture. It just does. (Why do we care about yield per acre? Lots of people, crowded planet, limited fertile farmland.) What we tend to look at with industrial agriculture is yield per dollar. And with that as its focus, industrial agriculture beats organic for that.

But, and this is a big but… BUT that yield per dollar equation relies on two major inputs: oil and water. One more time – industrial agriculture relies on cheap and easy access to oil and water. We have no reason to believe that oil is getting cheaper (see: What is peak oil?). And we more or less know that, barring some huge technological breakthrough, we are in trouble when it comes to fresh water, the kind our animals, our food crops, and our families need to survive.

At what cost?

The other thing to remember about industrial agriculture is that those prices you see in the grocery store aren’t real. If you live in the US, they’re actually heavily subsidized by your tax dollars. You may not realize it, but much of our current agricultural system is propped up by the Farm Bill (although this year, maybe not?), without which current practices would be absolutely unsustainable (that is, one way on top of all the other ways they are already unsustainable). Prices as we know them simply don’t reflect reality.

As for the externalized costs of industrial agriculture – costs to the land, water, animals, our own health – they are… heartbreaking.

And these prices, this system, our “food reality,” is indeed, unsustainable. It is not really a question of whether we can feed the world – over 10 billion people by 2050 – without industrial agriculture. We can. We know we can.

Photo CC || http://www.flickr.com/photos/kkoshy/

Honestly, I believe we really cannot feed that many people with industrial agriculture, at least not as we know it today. Sustainable agriculture means more efficient land use, definitely a must-have for a more crowded planet. It also means not depleting our limited resources, rebuilding rather than decimating the land we are using to grow crops, and moving away from buying food with oil. Industrial agriculture isn’t working for the planet, and as we try to feed more and more people, we will feel the crunch and it will become clear that it’s not really working for us now.

Can Industrial Agriculture Work? (Part 1)

Jess Lundie — Tue, 07 Jun 2011 17:49:24 +0000

This was a really great question posed by a reader on a post called Canning & Gratitude:

On a more serious note, do you think the industrial food system is bad in-and-of-itself, or in the ways it currently operates? Could the system be changed? More importantly, could we (as in all almost 7 billion of us) survive without the industrial food system? How do we address the issue of food distribution (and why aren’t we doing a better job of it now)? I’m not sure if there are solid answers to these questions. As it is, I’m just kind of thinking out loud.

Instead of writing a novel in the comments, I promised her a blog post with my thoughts on her excellent questions. In fact, it will probably end up being a series of blog posts, because yeah – big questions. Long answers. Lots of thoughts.

First off, is the industrial food system bad in-and-of-itself?

No. I tend to think no on this one.

Part of this answer will depend on what we mean when we say “industrialization.” We could probably debate that until the proverbial cows come home. But for the purpose of this pondering, we’ll use the Wikipedia definition:

Industrial farming is a form of modern farming that refers to the industrialized production of livestock, poultry, fish, and crops. The methods of industrial agriculture are technoscientific, economic, and political. They include innovation in agricultural machinery and farming methods, genetic technology, techniques for achieving economies of scale in production, the creation of new markets for consumption, the application of patent protection to genetic information, and global trade.

Industrialization, like anything, is a tool. How we use it is our choice. Given this definition, industrial agriculture is actually a portfolio of tools, and we have a choice about the directions we take with and goals for which we develop them.

Innovation in farming methods and agricultural machinery are not inherently bad. Innovation in farming methods and agricultural machinery that disregard the bigger picture, the health of the whole, and sustainability over the long term are a huge problem. That type of industrialization will not serve the planet OR our own needs. These methods excel at maximizing profit, but fail across the board in numerous other ways.

Photo CC || http://www.flickr.com/photos/walmartcorporate

Industrial agriculture as it exists now, with it’s priorities “misaligned,” so to speak, fails us nutritionally. It fails the planet. It fails our children and their children. It fails those who are starving for lack of access to food in a world where there is enough to feed everyone. Which leads to the next question…

Could the system be changed?

I believe very strongly that it could be. It is absolutely incredible the ingenuity, creativity, and flat out awesome that humans are capable of when we get ourselves moving towards a clearly-defined goal.

But right now our incentives are all weird. Between agricultural subsidies from the farm bill and corporations having the rights of actual human beings, it’s a weird, incentive-skewed world out there. All of our awesome humanness is being directed in funky directions, distracted, or minimized.

If we could somehow get rid of all that, I think the ingenuity and investment currently fueling industrial agriculture could create a system that looks very different.

What I wonder though is if industrial agriculture might always look… well, industrial. Look at industrial organic and how far it has strayed from the original spirit of organic agriculture. The criteria are met, certainly, but industrial organic operations are taking on a lot more of the “industrial” these days than we necessarily picture. Does industrial agriculture just end up looking industrial?

Or maybe industrial could also look like solar and wind powered farm machinery. Or vertical urban agriculture. Or things we haven’t yet dreamed of because of weirdified feedback loops. Clean industrial. Sustainably industrial?

I don’t know. But I’m hopeful. How about you? What do you think?

Products & Priorities

Jess Lundie — Thu, 26 May 2011 11:10:12 +0000

It seems like every time a new “green” product comes out, there’s a big debate about whether or not it’s actually good for the planet. Heck, it doesn’t even have to be a product that claims to be green. I’ve read more than my fair share of discussions about everything from Kindles (no more resource intensive publishing, shipping and retail) to electric cars to the latest green cleaning solution.

We’re flooded with basically endless choices, new green criteria an extension of our existing consumer culture.

How do you know what to buy? Or what to not buy? How do you know what’s really helping and what’s greenwashing, or just basically the same thing in a different form. It’s one thing to advocate being conscious in your consumer decisions. It’s a completely different thing to start actually doing it.

That’s when the overwhelm starts.

How To Decide?

I don’t know about you, but personally, I don’t think my Kindle is going to save the world by driving the publishing industry to extinction. An e-book device on every lap comes with other consequences – plastic, heavy metals, synthetic materials, and its own supply and retail chain. What about upgrades and new features? What happens when the price gets so low that the hot new thing becomes another quasi-disposable electronic device? Where do they end up?

Photo CC || http://www.flickr.com/photos/knk/

I just don’t see that as a solution. And finding an option that meets all those criteria and answers all those questions just isn’t possible. That’s where priorities come in.

What’s Important To You?

I really think the first step of standing in sovereignty with your decisions comes from deciding what matters to you. I have a little set of consumer rules that I’m fairly happy with, but I’m happy with them because they fit my priorities.

If I am someone who is deeply passionate about animal rights – there’s something you can work with. Look for vegan options, products that aren’t tested on animals, and pay close attention to what role the companies you purchase from play in habitat conservation – sourcing through retail as well as product disposal.

If you’re into strengthening regional food systems, local might be far more important to you than organic certification, and connecting directly with the farmer above and beyond that. You may be more comfortable engaging in the khaki market than shopping at the closest chain grocery store.

See how that works? Priorities create the foundation for clarity, and help you shield your mind from the blare of “corporate greenness” and the confusion and overwhelm that can come from becoming more aware of how your choices shape the world.

What are your priorities? In the scheme of your life, what really matters to you?

P.S. There’s a lot more about how make choices that reflect your priorities in 7 Days of Conscious Living. Go check it out if you haven’t already!

What Are Your Priorities?

On Communities

Jess Lundie — Fri, 28 May 2010 17:18:22 +0000

A while ago I sent out a tweet that said “What is community? (not rhetorical, please respond).” I heard nothing. So either no one was listening to me at that moment (which is a very real possibility), or people don’t want or know how to engage with that question.

Community is a big part of the dialogue in the Transition Initiative. In one of my posts about the Transition Initiative, a commenter asked what I meant by “community resilience.” It’s a valid question – more than valid. An absolutely crucial question. I don’t know if there is a good answer. But I suspect the fact that we are even asking the question means we have a problem.

In Which I Get All Geeky On You

I’m a big Babylon 5 fan. It’s more or less a show about the United Nations, but with spaceships and aliens. Epic. In one episode, the Minbari (alien) Ambassador tells a reporter that her race was willing to work with Earth on the Babylon Project and build this cool interspecies space station because humans build communities. If it had been any other alien species, she said, they would have kept Babylon 5 all for themselves. But humans build communities.

And it’s true. Community is a fundamental part of what it means to be human. We are social. We are tribal. When we look around and ask what our community is, it’s a problem. (Not to mention that we lose our coolness factor with the technologically superior alien races.)

Is Community Too Complicated?

Maybe we don’t know what community is because in the modern world, community has become too complicated. What began with the industrial revolution, urbanization, and increased international communication via telephone and air travel expanded even further with the internet. New, internet-based tribalism makes the concept of “community” infinitely vast. It is increasingly easy to find a tribe. But your tribe members may be scattered all over the world. 100 years ago, you never would have found each other.

Technology has also increased the range of tribes to which you can belong. When you ask me what my community is, I hesitate to respond. I belong to many communities, with varying degrees of involvement and interaction. The answer I give is largely determined by who is asking.

Does Community Matter?

As far as Transition is concerned, community is all-important. The Transition version of resilience – the degree to which a community, individual, or system can withstand a shock – is almost exclusively community-based. And by community, they mean your geographic community, local community, a community which may have absolutely nothing to do with the new international tribes in which we find ourselves.

I find myself agreeing with the Transition Initiative about the importance of community. In the face of the dual threats of peak oil and climate change, geographical communities absolutely matter. In terms of our day-to-day quality of life, geographical communities matter. In a sense, new tribes can (and have been?) a detriment to the development of strong local communities. It’s easier to opt out than it has ever been, because now you can opt out of your local community without condemning yourself to social isolation.

But I think that our new, more complicated concept of community is also useful. Aside from the obvious benefits of instantaneous global communication, our new tribes may allow us to become more ourselves than we have been in the past. Less morphing or faking it to fit the mold. More kindred spirits, even if not in close physical proximity. If we let them, belonging to many communities can expand and refine our worldview, and strengthen our resolution and our voice.

In a time when apathy seems to be at an all time high, perhaps communities, whatever form they may take, will be the key to regaining conviction.

Related Posts:

Transition: Resilience

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Scientific Identity Confusion in the United States

Jess Lundie — Mon, 14 Dec 2009 15:17:34 +0000

Meandering through the newsosphere (can I call mainstream media the newsosphere if I access it online?), I stumbled upon two facts which, in and of themselves, were both unsurprising and not terribly interesting.

American citizens have an abiding faith in technology, more so than any other country in the world.
Americans don’t believe in climate change.

Individually, each of these facts is unremarkable. But together, they pose an interesting question about how we handle science in our society. I have been musing about some of the possible explanations for this apparent contradiction.

Perhaps it is that we don’t understand science, so we are skeptical. Of course, we don’t understand the science behind how our television works either (at least I don’t), but we know that it turns on when we press the power button. Most of the time. So even if we don’t understand it, we have faith that it’s going to work when we need it to.

Or, as I hear echoed time and again, could there really be two Americas? The first America has faith in technology, believes in climate change, and theoretically hopes that we will be able to build a bright green future thanks to technological innovation. And the second America doesn’t believe in climate change, evolution, stem cell research or any other science?

I don’t buy it. I don’t buy it because it doesn’t work. You cannot lump the vast range of views about science and technology into two simplistic groups.

After all, climate deniers still use computers and drive cars. They still go to the doctor, take prescription medications, get flu shots, and treat their cancer with chemotherapy. This is all science. This is all technology. And they believe in it. They have faith in it. They trust the science, scientists, and engineers behind all of these things. Likewise, many people who understand the science behind climate change do not believe there is a technological solution to the problem. Some even advocate a large-scale re-adoption of older methods of production and distribution that are not dependent on current technological developments, much less future advances.

But the question is, if not through a theory of two Americas, how can we describe the apparent contradiction between these two statistics? Because it does seem that there should be some connection between the two. And it is fascinating that on both sides of the aisle, there seems to be among non-scientists (laymen, really) an inclination to pick and choose which science we are going to believe in and which we will blatantly disregard or actively deny.

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