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| Vol. 19, No. 5 |
NOVEMBER/DECEMBER 2001
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COMMENTARY: No fries with that order, please LSP NEWS: LSP organizing pushes Farm Bill reform; Landmark feedlot study falls short; A sustainable shopping list BOOK REVIEWS: The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World, by Michael Pollan FACES BEHIND THE FOOD: A special photo gallery of farmers |
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| COVER STORY What You See is What You GetOne day in early July, a southwest Minnesota farmer led me past his nondescript outbuildings, through a hay field and over a fence. We stopped on the other side of the fence to take in the view: an honest to goodness valley. The slope the farmer stood on plummeted at least a couple hundred feet down to a creek that was snaking along the valley floor. The slope on the opposite side was just as dramatic, with numerous side-draws creating an undulating effect. The valley stretched roughly north to south as far as the eye could see. And it was covered in grass. Much of the grass was non-native species that are good for beef production. In fact, in one of those side-draws the bulk of the farmer's cattle herd was grazing in secret delight. But the farmer bent down to point out a few native plants, species that have been around since the wild prairies ruled this part of the world. He couldn't name them all, but he was clearly delighted with their presence, and with what they said about his ability to produce food in harmony with nature. Not all farms have such pleasant surprises tucked away in the back forty. An increasing number, in fact, have decidedly ugly secrets: leaking manure lagoons, contaminated water tables, eroding soils. Those surprises are called "hidden costs" because they don't go into the calculations used to determine the price of a pound of hamburger or a bag of apples. Those costs may not appear on a food package's bar code, but society eventually pays for them one way or the other-whether it be through a contaminated environment, empty small towns or even unsafe food. But an increasing number of consumers are making it clear they don't want to support food production that contains hidden costs. This issue of the Land Stewardship Letter is devoted to farmers who are showing food can be produced without rude surprises. The latest Stewardship Food Network listing is now on our Web site. This is our regular update of farmers and retailers who belong to the Land Stewardship Project and who strive to provide sustainably produced food to consumers. And at the end of this newsletter is a series of photos featuring many of the farmers who have recently received the Midwest Food Alliance (MWFA) seal of approval. That means they have undergone a rigorous third-party inspection to determine how their farm rates in terms of water quality, wildlife habitat, soil erosion, community involvement and much more. Only farms that reach a high level of overall sustainability qualify for the MWFA seal. Will listing farmers who direct-market food and creating a sustainable seal of approval revolutionize our food system? No. But efforts like this can help insure that your food dollar will be supporting more pleasant surprises past the farm gate, behind the barn and over the hill. - Brian DeVore
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No fries with that order, pleaseBy Dana Jackson Corn and soybeans are usually the villains when we talk about industrialized crop farming. For example, look at the commentary that appeared on this page in the September/October issue of the Land Stewardship Letter. But there's another, overlooked villain of industrial cropping, the potato-more specifically, the french fried potato. The potato is a marvelous gift of the earth; pomme de terre (apple of the earth) the French called it. After World War II, American GIs craved this potato specialty of the French cuisine; so American drive-in restaurants began to serve french fries with hamburgers. The development of a process to freeze french fries turned them into a cheap commodity and a major profit maker for fast food restaurants. Today the french fried potato is a symbol of everything that's wrong with the industrial food system. Connected to that carton of perfect, golden french fries-which the average American eats several times a week-is the contamination of soil and water, the decline of family farms and rural culture, the consolidation of corporate power over land and markets and people, and a growing health problem-obesity. The Anishinaabeg people of the White Earth and Mille Lacs Reservations in north central Minnesota live in the midst of potato farming. These Native Americans lost much of their original treaty land through the white man's laws and trickery. Then they lost their livelihood when forests were cut for timber and the land drained for farming. Now the little land they have left to support their traditional way of life is endangered by the farming practices of Ron Offut, the largest independent potato farmer in the world. In a study just published by the White Earth Land Recovery Project, Potatoes, Frogs and Water: R.D. Offutt Co. and Northwestern Minnesota's Future, Winona LaDuke and co-authors describe the Offutt empire and their concern for its impact upon the water, the land and people of the region. Through a diversity of land holding entities that keep Offutt from violating the Minnesota corporate farm laws, Ron Offutt and associates control a total of 27,926 acres in 12 counties of Minnesota, with special concentration in Otter Tail County and Becker County. The problem, the study says, is not the number of acres Offutt controls, but the concentration of potato farming in these areas. The sandy soils in northwest Minnesota are good for growing potatoes, but they also have high infiltration rates, which result in a quick leaching of nitrates into the aquifer below. Typical usage of nitrogen fertilizer for corn is about 96 pounds per acre, but for potatoes the typical usage is much higher-241 pounds per acre. Thirty-one percent of the wells in Otter Tail County, where Offutt controls 8,547 acres, tested for nitrate levels higher than the drinking water standard of 10 milligrams per liter set by the Environmental Protection Agency. The Anishinaabeg see that in addition to their water being endangered by nitrogen fertilizer applications, the wild medicinal and food plants traditionally gathered by native people are harmed by frequent herbicide applications. People living on land between and around Offutt fields are also exposed to pesticide drift from the many aerial sprayings. The Minnesota Department of Agriculture, however, is satisfied that the Offutt growers voluntarily use "best management practices." When the Mantrap Township Board of Hubbard County passed an ordinance to restrict aerial spraying of pesticides in the early 1990s, the Department of Agriculture joined the commercial sprayers and Offutt in suing the township. The township lost. Industrial potato production requires a heavy use of pesticides. In The Botany of Desire (see book review) Michael Pollan says that to produce the perfect french fry potato, an Idaho farmer plants one variety only, the Russet Burbank, and protects the crop with an arsenal of chemicals. Beginning in the spring the farmer applies a soil fumigant to control nematodes, then a pre-planting herbicide to control weeds and a systemic insecticide at planting time. Additional herbicides and 10 weekly applications of fertilizer follow during the growing season. The potato crop needs a fungicide to avoid the late blight that caused the Irish potato famine. The potatoes also need regular sprayings to kill aphids that transmit a leaf roll virus which creates spots on the Russet Burbank, anathema to a french fry processor. Then there is the nemesis of home gardeners, the potato beetle. Potato farmers naturally see Monsanto's New Leaf potato, genetically engineered with a bacterium that kills potato beetles as they eat the leaves, to be a cost-cutting advance by eliminating a spraying. The typical potato farmer in Idaho spends approximately $1,950 an acre for chemicals, water and electricity and sells the average yield of 20 tons to a french-fry processor for $2,000. For every $1.50 spent on french fries at a fast food restaurant, the farmer makes only two cents. As with corn, wheat and other cheap commodities, the potato growers feel pressured to get big or get out, and the family-sized farms are getting out, while large operations get larger. The Anishinaabeg have watched Ron Offut accumulate more and more land to produce potatoes, including land originally part of the White Earth reservation. Ron Offut supplies potatoes for a french fry processing plant in Park Rapids, Minn., that is a joint venture of Offut, ConAgra and Lamb Weston, the largest manufacturer of french fries in the world. Lamb Weston and McCain, a Canadian Firm, control 80 percent of the American market for frozen french fries, even though J.R. Simplot Company supplies most of the frozen french fries that McDonald's uses. Frozen french fries have become a bulk commodity, manufactured in high volume with a low margin of profit. Americans devour a prodigious amount of french fries. In Fast Food Nation (see Jan./Feb./Mar. 2001 LSL), the author Eric Schlosser tells us that the average American in 1960 ate 81 pounds of fresh potatoes and about four pounds of frozen french fries. Today the average American eats about 49 pounds of fresh potatoes each year and more than 30 pounds of frozen french fries. The success of fast food restaurants is directly linked to the growing popularity, tastiness and cheapness of french fries. "Super Size Fries (540 calories) with that double bacon cheeseburger?" Potatoes are inherently a healthful food. Michael Pollan writes that the potato became a food staple in Ireland because, in addition to its carbohydrate energy, it provided considerable amounts of protein and vitamins B and C, and the missing vitamin A could be supplied by cow's milk. But today we eat the potato with grease, not milk. Eric Schlosser says that forty-four million Americans are obese, and six million are "super obese," weighing about 100 pounds more than they should. The growth of the fast food industry, which has made "eating out" so cheap and convenient, contributes to our bulging waistlines as much as the decline of physical activity in our work life and leisure. Teenage clerks punching buttons with pictures on them at the fast food check-out counters don't even exercise their brains, and these youngsters are often overweight, eating their way to an early onset of diseases linked to obesity, such as diabetes and heart disease. But the high-fat fast food meals, which all include french fries, are popular not only with teenagers, but also busy working parents of young children, as well as retired people. The potato was first domesticated more than 7,000 years ago by ancestors of the Incas in the Andes. Their descendants perfected a complex and sustainable system by planting many different sizes, shapes and colors of potatoes that fit particular microclimates and soil formations along mountainsides. The diversity was essential as each potato had a special use in their diet. Several varieties of potatoes, besides the Russet Burbank, are available today as seed potatoes and in farmers' markets and food cooperatives. It's possible for people to learn again how to boil, bake and mash potatoes-with milk-and avoid that villainous symbol of an industrial food system: the processed, frozen french fry. Dana Jackson is the Land Stewardship Project's Associate Director. For more information on Potatoes, Frogs, and Water: R.D. Offutt Co. and Northwestern Minnesota's Future, contact the White Earth Land Recovery Project at 32033 East Round Lake Road, Ponsford, MN 56575; phone: 218-573-3448.
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LSP organizing pushes Farm Bill reform
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The Botany of Desire A Plant's-Eye View of the World By Michael Pollan 2001; 271 pages $24.95 hardcover Random House, New York, NY 10171 www.atrandom.com Reviewed by Ray Kirsch Michael Pollan's latest book, The Botany of Desire, contains stories that are true to our best narrative traditions-stories that are humorous, adventurous, inquisitive, and ultimately enlightening as to our place in this world. It says something about Pollan's skill that these stories retain their literary value even though they are strung together by a term which is steeped in science: "artificial selection." Charles Darwin used that phrase over a century ago in The Origin of Species to ease his readers into the ideas of evolution and natural selection. Unwittingly perhaps, Darwin thus reinforced an ideological chasm between artificial or unnatural selection-the selection we humans perform to create roses, butter pears and show dogs-and the selection that takes place out there, in nature, the world of natural selection. Pollan holds that this chasm is an illusion, a failure of our imagination, and more dangerously, a conceit. We are a part of nature, no more or less, than any other creatures-take your pick, from conifers to cucumbers to cats. We are all co-evolving. And here there is nodding by the readers and perhaps some begrudged muttering. And yet there are two more steps to take. The first easy, the second more challenging. Pollan relates the fine example of wolves and dogs. How a few wolves long ago threw in with us humans and began the long road of domestication. And ultimately (at least to date), how well this has worked out for all parties to the agreement-dogs can be found everywhere while wolves are having a hard time of it. And humans are happy with the friendship and service of their hairy companions. Pollan contends that those who survive with us, understand us. They understand our needs and desires. True enough for dogs, but what about plants? Are we co-evolving with plants? Are we throwing in with them and they with us, and if so, how? This then is Pollan's challenge-that we must answer, "yes." Plants do understand our needs and desires, and they work us as hard as they work bumblebees. True, we travel in different circles-plants don't have large brains and they can't run around; we can't photosynthesize nor create the molecules to defend a stationary existence. But nonetheless, our desires intersect. Pollan calls this the botany of our desires. He then conjures up for us four delicious stories that examine this botany, make us smile, and prompt us to worry just a bit about what comes next. The four human desires that the author examines are sweetness, beauty, intoxication and control. As guides to these desires, we are treated to (respectively) apples, tulips, marijuana and potatoes. Each story is unique, but Pollan pulls on several common threads to create a delightful dinner. First, the stories are collages-circular pieces of history, science, gardening and memoir. Co-evolution is not a narrow topic. Thus, we get to meet John Chapman, a.k.a Johnny Appleseed, but we also learn about grafting and genetic diversity, the dearth of sweeteners on the pioneer frontier, and the surfeit of cider. We get to discuss marijuana as a cultural mutagen, as well as share Pollan's own funny-looking-back-at-it experiences with this savvy weed. And these various collage pieces are not necessarily dazzling. More than likely they're simple observations. The key is how Pollan fits them together. Here's a small observation that gets us rolling in the tulip story: "Bee or boy, our attention is awakened by a petal's color, alerting us to what comes next, which is form or pattern, beauty's second inflection of the given world. Against the background of inchoate green a contrasting color by itself could well be an accident of some kind (a feather, say, or a dying leaf), but the appearance of symmetry is a reliable expression of formal organizations-or purpose, even intent. Symmetry is an unmistakable sign that there's relevant information in a place." From here we travel to bees, and information-greetings, the beckoning of beauty and symmetrythe dance of pollination, and onward to the Ottoman Empire, to Holland, and back again. Pollan grounds each of his stories with personal experiences and with histories. We get the Irish potato famine as well as Pollan's potato salad sans genetic engineering. We get the tulip mania of 17th century Holland mixed with Pollan's childhood memories of tulip planting. And in an interesting twist, we also get a sense of how long these botanical discussions have been going on. Pollan invites the Greek gods of Apollo and Dionysus into each story. And through this longest of lenses-mythology-we begin to see the ongoing struggle between wildness and civilization. Lastly, Pollan illustrates in each story that is it is the malleability of each of these plants that affords them such success at meeting our desires. And also paints us as an incredibly demanding and fickle customer. Tired of a red tulip? No problem; a blue one is on its way. A mix of red and blue? We can do that too. Apple too tart? We can fix that. Need some rope? Here's some hemp-oh, and by the way, don't try smoking it. True, same species, different result. Colorado potato beetle got you down? No problem; try the software in this NewLeaf potato. And it's in the last section-the potato story-that the subtle hints of the previous tales coalesce into the conceit and danger that lie at our door. This story was my introduction to Pollan's writingit appeared originally as a shorter 1998 article in the New York Times Magazineand immediately grabbed my attention. It's the story of genetically engineered potatoes-NewLeaf potatoes developed by Monsanto, which, in effect, take our cultural knowledge off the farm and puts it in the hands of scientists and corporations. Writes Pollan: "What is perhaps most striking about the NewLeafs coming up in my garden is the added human intelligence that the insertion of the Bacillus thuringiensis gene represents. In the past that intelligence resided outside the plant, in the minds of the organic farmers and gardeners (myself included) who used Bt, commonly in the form of spray, to manipulate the ecological relationship between certain insects and a certain bacterium in order to foil those insects." By discussing the genetically engineered NewLeaf, Pollan raises the question: if we do adopt the metaphor of software for the genes of our plants, what comes next? What does this portend for our co-evolution with the world? The answers are not clear, but the direction of the compass is, and that direction is caution-caution in editing out the code we're unhappy with and inserting our own subroutines. We must be careful because this code, these improbable strings of nucleic acids, are forged from evolution beyond our understanding. They hold the world, as we know it, steady. As Pollan notes, if we cull these strings, if we shrink the diversity of life, we shrink evolutions's possibilities-and that has implications for all of us. Thoreau wrote, "In wildness is the preservation of the world." Pollan suggests that Wendell Berry has presented the necessary corollary: "In human culture is the preservation of wildness." Thus our human cultures and the preservation of the world are linked in wildnessin biodiversity. The glory of Pollan's book is that this load of a wordbiodiversityrarely appears. I don't remember seeing it until the epilogue, and then on the last page. He leaves us instead with a metaphor-one invoked by descriptions of John Chapman transporting his apple seeds down river. Namely, that we're all in this boat together. If we are to exist and plants are to exist, then wildness must exist. And this has ramifications for our cultures, for how we might live on the land. It also reinforces that we are involved in a co-evolution. And that as an evolutionary force, we humans can be a reckless lot. If the wildness of the world is our ballast, then more likely than not, we're the crazies standing up in the boat, one foot on the gunwale, as the water laps in. Land Stewardship Project staff member Ray Kirsch is the Farm Coordinator for
the Midwest Food Alliance. He grew up in St. Louis, Monsanto's hometown.
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