The Locavore's Dilemma (29 page)

In countries where massive domestic food surpluses were generated as a result of government programs, further subsidies were needed to dump them on world markets and less developed economies. Governmental inability to recognize traditional community practices for the management of common resources such as fisheries, grazing lands, and irrigation systems or to clearly define and enforce private property rights also promotes short-term abuse.
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Overall, it has been estimated that perhaps up to two thirds of the 1,000 billion dollars spent on subsidies related to agriculture, water, fisheries, energy production, forestry and transport are counterproductive as they damage both the economy (through increased budget deficits, unemployment, and trade distortions) and the environment (through increased pollution and mismanagement of natural resources).
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Once adopted, counterproductive agricultural policies are rarely rolled back as most politicians would rather avoid confronting powerful constituencies. Instead, when enough pressure has built up to compel them to do something, they usually adopt additional measures and subsidies, which will create new problems. For instance, policies that maintain prices artificially low are often dealt with through new production subsidies rather than by simply removing price restrictions and letting prices adjust upwards. The end result of an ever more politicized agricultural sector can only be an ever growing burden of taxes, debts, regulations, restrictions, and red tape which makes it very difficult to determine real production costs. So if government subsidies are paid on the basis of land farmed, the value of land rises to reflect not only its productive potential, but also its economic potential as a
means of accessing government assistance. From the consumer's perspective, the real price of subsidized domestic agricultural products includes both the amount charged at supermarkets and the portion of his tax money that went to producers and the agricultural bureaucracy.

Regulated and distorted markets reinforce the political powers of beneficiary groups such as subsidized commodity producers, prevent or hinder the reallocation of scarce resources from less efficient producers to more efficient ones, generally discourage innovative behavior, and encourage the wasteful use of subsidized inputs while protecting polluters from sanctions. As such, they can never—in contrast to liberalized markets—simultaneously deliver greater output, lower prices, and reduced environmental impact. The road to food insecurity, higher prices, and greater environmental damage is paved with well-meaning policies.

Nations are no longer independent. We have become dependent on a great fabric of trade; when it is destroyed, we die.

—JOSEPH RUSSELL SMITH. 1919.
The World's Food Resources
. H. Holt & Company, p. 3

 

 

 

 

T
o a locavore, food in the future should be created pretty much like it was in the not-so-distant past: Produce and animals raised lovingly in urban backyards, turning domestic waste into hearty dishes. Farmers' markets in every small town and city neighborhood, where people rediscover the joys of real food and get reacquainted with one another. The rebuilding of small-scale slaughterhouses and canning factories to serve area producers and foster the preservation of local food items for consumption in the off-season.

Ideally, this local system would also be built on seeds saved from the previous harvest rather than purchased from giant corporate seed producers; ancient “heirloom” cultivars developed before synthetic fertilizers and pesticides became available and that, as a result, are better able to seek nutrients in the soil, don't require any chemicals, and are naturally
resilient to drought and pests (“If it's old seed, it's good seed!”); and “heritage” animal breeds better able to withstand diseases and harsh environments and grow fat and happy on pastureland alone. Pest control would be achieved through traditional “natural” products based on plants and minerals; manual labor, such as crushing or picking bugs and larvae off foliage or removing weeds by hands; and biological control methods, such as introducing exotic animals, insects, and bacteria that feed on invasive pests. Finally, factory-made fertilizers would be replaced by animal manure and rotating fodder crops, such as clover and alfalfa.

This scenario, however, begs an obvious question, the one we raised at the beginning of this book: If our agricultural past was so great, why were modern animal and plant breeds, long distance trade in food, and modern production and processing technologies developed in the first place? As discussed in these pages, the simple answer is that, to the people who lived through them, the “good old days” were more akin to “trying times.” In a market economy, people do not bother tinkering with advances unless they are facing pressing problems. True, no innovative solution is ever perfect, but the essence of progress is to create less significant problems than those that existed before. Unfortunately, many activists endorse the so-called “precautionary principle,” which in its purest form prevents technological changes in the absence of full scientific certainty as to their potential negative consequences. Yet, those who promote this stance ignore the harm that this worldview creates. Had resistance to innovation and change been more significant in the last two centuries, real income, life expectancy, and food consumption would undoubtedly be much lower than they currently are, while infant mortality, food prices, and hours worked, among other things, would have been much higher. Stagnation is fundamentally incompatible with any meaningful notion of sustainable development.

No one denies that our modern food system can be improved in various ways and for a long time to come—we personally look forward to the day when humans will be able to “grow” or clone cuts of meat without having to raise and kill animals—but critics should at least try to
understand why we now produce food the way we do. Could it be, for instance, that some varieties of heirloom plants were abandoned
because
they not only had lower yields, but were also less resistant to diseases and bad weather or else displayed significant challenges, such as less regular ripening, shorter shelf lives, and lesser resistance to mechanical handling and transportation? That, for all their flaws in terms of taste, Iceberg lettuces and Elberta peaches provided the best fresh options in quality and price when alternatives were unavailable? Perhaps one hears comparatively little about heritage animal breeds not only because of their lower feed-to-meat conversion ratios (the amount of feed needed to produce a pound of meat), but also because they didn't taste that good and were more aggressive creatures? Finally, isn't it conceivable that those who espouse the notion that we should go back to “the sort of food our great grandmothers would recognize” are forgetting that our great grandmothers' great grandmothers would have heartily embraced the variety of new products available at the turn of the 20th century, from canned condensed milk and soups to breakfast cereals, frozen meat, and tropical offerings, such as fresh bananas?
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Isn't it possible that crushing bugs and removing weeds by hands were neither very effective nor the most productive use of one's time? That seeds purchased from commercial suppliers offered access to superior genetic material, were not mixed up with unwanted material and were readily available when needed? That “natural” manure has always been dirty, smelly, chock full of pathogens, and requires several months of composting? That the “slow release” of nutrients from green manures and organic compost could never be as adequately controlled to match crop demands with nutrient supply as is now possible with synthetic fertilizers? Further, that old mineral (including arsenic) and plant-based pesticides were less harmful to plant pests (and thereby more likely to promote insect resistance) and more problematic to human health than more recent offerings? That introducing nonnative insects, mammals, and bacteria in a new ecosystem often had unintended, broader, and longer-lasting negative consequences for non-targeted species?
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And
that, unlike chemical pesticides that typically do not persist in an ecosystem once application has ceased, exotic insects who have successfully adapted to a new environment are practically impossible to eradicate and do not remain confined to one geographical location? In the end, why are modern agricultural producers willing to purchase costly synthetic inputs, hormonal growth promoters, antibiotics, and genetically modified seeds when the methods agri-intellectuals prefer are either completely free (such as giving up on the use of these inputs and on equipment such as poultry housing) or seemingly much cheaper (such as feeding cattle entirely on pastureland and saving one's seeds instead of relying on those marketed by specialized producers)?

On the retail side, perhaps supermarkets and large chain stores displaced farmers' markets because of their more convenient hours, better parking conditions, greater mastery of logistics and inventory management, higher quality products, lower prices, and superior record in terms of food safety. On the latter topic, couldn't it be the case that the risk that large processing plants will spread pathogens over long distances is mitigated by the fact that they have better technologies to detect, control, and track such problems in the first place? And let's not forget that the long distance trade in food and agricultural inputs had the not inconsequential result of eradicating famine and malnutrition wherever it became significant.

Some locavores may continue to believe that our globalized food supply chain is the result of colonial and corporate agri-business raiders who crushed small farmers, packers, and retailers the world over simply because they could. But we contend that modern practices are but the latest in a long line of innovations, the ultimate goal of which has always been to increase the accessibility, quality, reliability, and affordability of humanity's food supply. And if we may be so blunt, how many activists still use locally manufactured electric typewriters and copper-wired rotary-dial phones to spread their message and set up “grassroots” links between food consumers and producers?
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How many move around in horse-drawn tramways, Ford Model Ts, or even old-fashioned roller
skates with parallel wheels? How many would trust doctors, meteorologists and computer engineers clinging to 1940s technology? If nonlocal modern technologies are good enough to serve the locavores' needs, why aren't they also desirable for agricultural producers?

We covered much historical material in this book in our attempt to look beyond the anti-corporate, romantic, and protectionist underpinnings of locavorism and to illustrate the rationale behind improvements in food production, processing, and transportation technologies, along with the benefits of an ever broader division of agricultural labor. To quote the historian Paul Johnson, the study of history “is a powerful antidote to contemporary arrogance,” for it is always humbling “to discover how many of our glib assumptions, which seem to us novel and plausible, have been tested before, not once but many times, and in innumerable guises; and discovered to be, at great human cost, wholly false.”
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The available historical evidence tells us that locavorism, far from being a step forward, can only deliver the world our ancestors gladly escaped from,s and which subsistence farmers mired in similar circumstances around the world would also escape if given opportunities to trade. It would not only mean lower standards of living and shorter life expectancy, but also increased environmental damage and social turmoil.

Perhaps the most fitting conclusion to our book is in the words of the American lawyer and legislator William Bourke Cockran, made famous by Winston Churchill in his 1946 “iron curtain” speech: “There is enough for all. The earth is a generous mother; she will provide in plentiful abundance for all her children if they will but cultivate her soil in justice and peace.”
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And, we would add, if they will trade ever more with each other.

It was during the 2009–2010 academic year that Pierre and I packed our bags and hit the American interstate highway system en route from Toronto to Bozeman, Montana, where we would stay for several months before moving on to Durham, North Carolina, for a semester. This was my first time crossing “fly-over” country at ground level. Over the next several months we would travel more than 35,000 miles, and I would get to experience some of America's commercial landscapes, national parks, villages, small towns, and cities.

Life in a beautiful small college town in Montana was a completely new experience for me, a born and bred city girl. I enjoyed some juicy bison burgers at Ted's Montana Grill (a chain owned by media mogul Ted Turner) and a few other local delicacies, although for someone used to the diversity of Toronto's foodscape and a sushi purist, it proved a bit challenging at times. Fortunately, the globalized food supply chain had already worked its magic. Many once “exotic” food items were in ready supply at the local grocery store: tofu, good quality soy sauce, bean sprouts—I even discovered Vietnamese rice paper at Wal-Mart!