The Seeds of Change
Born and raised on a Kansas farm, Wes Jackson grew up to help establish one of the first environmental studies programs in the country at California State University-Sacramento. But during a leave of absence, the plant geneticist began to ask himself whether being a tenured professor was where he could do the most good. He answered by chucking the academic life and returning to his Kansas roots. Jackson started a nonprofit organization, The Land Institute, which has been rethinking how humans grow and cultivate food for more than three decades now. As part of the Natural Resources Defense Council’s Visionary Speaker Series , Jackson discussed his revolutionary thinking on agriculture. He spoke to journalist Michael O. Allen. What does The Land Institute do? We are perennializing major crops. What farmers do today, and have been doing since agriculture began 10,000 to 13,000 years ago, is plant annual crops. That is just not natural. By subduing or ignoring nature, we’re saying we’ve got to destroy the ecosystem in order to eat. In the wild, nature features perennials and mixtures. That’s all we’re trying to do at the Land Institute, bring the processes of the wild to the farm. With perennials, we don’t have to tear the ground up every year. Perennial seeds have these extensive root systems that grow deeper into the ground. The roots then manage nutrients and water and microorganisms such as bacteria, fungi, even the worms. Perennials are also going to capture sunlight over a larger percentage of the year than annuals do because, with annuals, you’ve got to wait until the seeds come up and for it to spread and form a canopy to capture sunlight. How are you bringing the processes of the wild to the farm? Through plant breeding. We are crossing annual crops with their perennial relatives. We are also domesticating wild perennials that are promising. If we succeed, we’ll have a mixture of grain-producing crops grown by farmers who have a 19th century British naturalist way of thinking. It’ll be people managing a domestic ecosystem that has signatures of the ways of the wild. Don’t big agricultural companies grow most of our food now? Yes, but that will end because it is dependent on burning a lot of fossil fuel. How are you going to carry on with industrialized agriculture if you don’t have a lot of fossil carbon to run it? There’s only so much oil. What makes anybody think that it’s going to go on and on and on? We’re showing signs of desperation already, including our presence in the Middle East. Our leaders understand that if we don’t have that portable liquid fuel, we’re going to have widespread social upheaval. A 10-year-old has lived through a quarter of all the oil ever burned, and a 22-year-old, 54 percent. The scaffolding of modern industrial society is dependent upon highly dense, ancient, energy-rich carbon. So, when you start losing that, you start doing crazy things, like more offshore drilling, which means more ecological accidents like the one we just had in the Gulf. It’s just sort of a downward spiral toward a desecrated planet. What are the forces you have to overcome to change agriculture as we know it? The big chunk of money made in agriculture is for the suppliers of fertilizers, the insecticides people, and the seed houses. If the plant keeps coming up every year, you don’t need to buy seeds. Look at a native prairie, those root systems, that whole underground activity there is very efficient in the management of nutrients and water. We just want to bring so much of what the prairie is all about to our agricultural fields, but the first requirement is to have the perennials. When that happens, the reward runs primarily to the farmer and the landscape and you’re going to have less need for nitrogen. About 50 percent of the nitrogen that’s applied to fields in the form of fertilizer isn’t taken up by the crops, and it leaks into our streams. How big a challenge do you face? Huge. I mean, partly, because people have left the farms and they don’t have a connection to the land. So, now, here they are, living in suburbia or cities with little appreciation of the source. Aldo Leopold long ago said that there are two spiritual dangers that come from not owning a farm. One is the belief that heat comes from the stove, and the other is belief that food comes from a grocery store. We’ve got these disconnects. I suspect something will have to happen to make people focus, to get them to make the connection. You are 74 years old this year. Do you have a sense that you’re running out of time? We’ve got a motto around The Land Institute: If you’re working on something that you can finish in your lifetime, you are not thinking big enough. Read interviews with more NRDC visionary speakers .
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The Seeds of Change
Climate Changers: Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack
Part of a series profiling key players in environmental politics. Read more>> Who he is: U.S. Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack Green cred: Farmers and environmentalists don’t always see eye-to-eye — think toxic pesticides, fertilizers, and genetically modified crops, just to name a few agricultural practices that cause controversy. Tom Vilsack is trying to serve as something of a conflict resolution negotiator. A former governor of Iowa, Vilsack is hoping to bridge the divide between farming and environmentalism — both care immensely about the quality of the land — and promote a clean energy future for everyone. "They really do need to talk to you," Vilsack told the board of the Natural Resources Defense Council in March. "And you need to talk to them." When he took over the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) last year, Vilsack said production agriculture, the colossal, industrialized operations that have taken over farming, "is part of the problem, and it can and needs to be part of the solution. … This department will help wean big growers from fossil fuels." Why he has skeptics: Some in the green movement decried Vilsack’s nomination, noting that he was an advocate of genetically modified crops and controversial biofuels. Influential food author Michael Pollan told NPR in 2008, "It’s hard to avoid the conclusion that this is agribusiness as usual." However, just over a year later, Pollan now says Vilsack has surprised him. He appointed reform-minded Kathleen Merrigan as his top deputy. He has emphasized local agriculture through the Know Your Farmer program. And he took a jackhammer to a stretch of pavement outside of USDA headquarters with the aim of creating a community garden. Pollan told OnEarth that he sees all of this as "very hopeful stuff, and (he’s) saying many of the right things." But he cautions that Vilsack has also thrown important appointments to proponents of chemical agriculture and biotechnology. "My sense is he’s pursuing a big-tent strategy." What he’s done: Last December, the USDA teamed with 56,000 dairy farmers to reduce their greenhouse gas emissions by 25 percent by 2020. (Cows’ burps and flatulence emit methane, one of the most potent greenhouse gases — a 2006 United Nations report said the world’s rapidly growing herds of livestock are more polluting than cars.) The USDA also plans to spend an additional $90 million over the next four years to fund climate change research to advance hardier food systems that require less carbon to maintain. And Vilsack helped restore the nationwide Roadless Rule, which protects large tracts of the national forest system (which fall under the control of the U.S. Forest Service, an agency of the USDA) from road building, a ban that will help species more easily migrate as climate change causes shifts in habitat. He has also been one of the administration’s strongest voices in favor of climate legislation and the potential of biofuels. Humble beginnings: Placed in a Catholic orphanage days after his birth in Pittsburgh in 1950, he was called "Kenneth" until Bud and Dolly Vilsack, a real estate agent and a homemaker, adopted him, naming him "Thomas." How he got into politics: Vilsack was working as a lawyer at his father-in-law’s firm in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, when the mayor of the town was shot and killed by a disgruntled resident during a city council meeting. Vilsack ran for the unexpected opening and won. Most improbable victory: When Vilsack ran for governor in 1998, a Democrat hadn’t been elected to that position in more than 30 years. The GOP held the state House and the state Senate, as well. Iowa was well managed, running a budget surplus, with unemployment down to 3 percent. Why would voters want a change? Vilsack championed education and business incentives to make Iowa "the Silicon Valley of food." On election night, he was watching the movie All the President’s Men when then-Vice President Al Gore called with the news that Vilsack had come from 20 points behind to win.
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Climate Changers: Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack
Bees Vs. The Big Apple
Bitter melon and tomatillo plants crowd together on a small plot. Vines curl around wire fence links, casting shadows on rows of crops. Patches of red-veined chard hug the ground near giant okra stalks. This is East New York Farms, wedged between a long line of slumping row houses and the rusted girders of an elevated train track. The community garden, one of about 600 in New York City, is located in one of Brooklyn’s roughest neighborhoods. On a recent fall day, Deborah Greig, one of the garden’s caretakers, steps calmly into a baggy, one-piece protective suit. She pulls a wide-brimmed hat and mesh veil over her head and face. "I don’t feel like an outlaw," she says, grinning. Technically, she is. Beekeeping is against the law in New York City, although that hasn’t stopped Greig and dozens like her from maintaining hives across the five boroughs — in alleyways, on rooftops, and under train tracks. Urban beekeeping is part of a growing effort by some city dwellers to reconnect with nature and the food they eat. As more residents plant community gardens and embrace activities tied to local agriculture, beekeeping is growing more popular, as well. "It’s a powerful experience to sit on the roof a few feet from the hives and just watch," says Jessica Katz, a new beekeeper. After taking a class last spring, Katz helped maintain two hives on the roof of a brownstone in Brooklyn’s trendy Park Slope neighborhood. "It’s enormously peaceful," she says. [ Story continues below. ] Beekeeping hasn’t always been illegal here. In 1999, during the Giuliani administration, honey bees mysteriously appeared in the New York City health codes on a list of prohibited animals — along with lions, pit vipers and crocodiles — that were "naturally inclined to do harm and capable of inflicting harm on human beings." "No one, not even at the Department of Health, has been able to explain to us why honey bees are on that list," says Tim Roberts, the chief of staff for City Councilman David Yassky of Brooklyn. Fines can range from $200 to $2,000, although city officials say they issue them only when a complaint has been lodged. From the beginning of 2009 through Oct. 31, the New York City Health Department received 162 complaints related to harboring bees and wasps, officials said. The department wouldn’t say how many beekeepers had been cited, although The New York Times reported this summer that four summonses had been issued through the first half of 2009. Yassky introduced a bill earlier this year that would make beekeeping legal in the city again, putting New York in good company. Cities such as Denver and Los Angeles promote beekeeping as part of urban sustainability initiatives. Chicago even keeps hives on the rooftop of its city hall. Bees help support local agriculture through pollination and honey production, Roberts said. And unlike wasps, honey bees are generally docile — they don’t sting unless they are stepped on or their hive is threatened. In East New York, Greig uses the beehives to teach local kids about sustainable agriculture — a concept that may seem especially abstract for city dwellers who have little contact with agriculture or have little concept of where their food originates. As the urban agriculture coordinator at East New York Farms, Greig runs an afternoon program for local junior high and high school students. The garden is a collaborative project between local residents, regional family farmers, several educational institutions and the local United Community Center to address food issues in the community. Greig and others teach the students to cultivate and harvest crops and cook nutritious meals at the nearby community center, using the fruits of their labors. Each week, the students sell their produce at a farmer’s market a few blocks away. Last year, they took more than 15,000 pounds of produce to the market. That accomplishment would have been impossible without bees. BILLIONS FROM BEES’ LABOR "What outlawing beekeeping in New York really did was outlaw local agriculture," says Jim Fischer, a veteran beekeeper and instructor. That’s because bees are needed to pollinate most of the fruits, nuts and vegetables that people eat. Without them, it would be extremely difficult for U.S. farmers — large and small — to grow dozens of products. The list of crops pollinated by honey bees includes apples, almonds, broccoli, cucumbers, pumpkins, strawberries and soybeans. For more than 20 years, Fischer worked as a professional beekeeper, trucking a commercial fleet of nearly 600 beehives throughout Virginia, pollinating apple trees across the Blue Ridge Mountains. He gave up his small business three years ago and moved to New York, where he now instructs urbanites on the art of beekeeping. Fischer’s classes at the Gotham City Honey Co-op are in high demand — more than 40 New Yorkers completed the latest session in early spring. People come to him because they want to harvest honey and grow their own food in community gardens and backyards. Without bees to provide pollination, their crop yields would be pitiful, Fischer says. Other types of animals, including butterflies, moths, birds, beetles and bats, can pollinate plants, but bees bear the brunt of the labor. They account for anywhere from $5 billion to $15 billion dollars worth of agricultural production in the United States each year. There’s a problem, though: Bees across the country are vanishing, abandoning their hives all at once without warning, and no one is sure why. The phenomenon is known as Colony Collapse Disorder, a syndrome that first came to light about three years ago. Commercial beekeepers across the United States reported initial losses of 30 to 90 percent of their hives in 2006. Those losses have continued, hovering near 30 percent each year. These mysterious honey bee deaths cause many experts to worry about the economic stability of our current food production system, which relies so heavily on one type of pollinator. Honey bees that pollinate commercial agriculture are trucked all over the country. Large fields of nuts, fruits and vegetables are simply too vast for local honey bees to pollinate on their own. In California, the almond crop alone requires 1.3 million colonies of bees — nearly one half of all the honey bees in the United States. Urban hives probably won’t replace those losses, but the mysterious declines make many scientists and bee experts supportive of anyone who gives bees a good home. "We can’t really afford to outlaw beekeeping anywhere," says Gabriela Chavarria , the director of NRDC’s Science Center and an entomologist by training. "The reality is that honey bees are necessary for agriculture, and we need to eat." CLASHING WITH THE NATIVES In New York, though, honey bees still find themselves treated like outsiders at times. The city is home to more than 200 native bee species, whereas honey bees originated in Europe. Although they’ve been buzzing around North America for nearly 400 years, some ecologists still consider them an introduced species. Most of New York’s native bee species don’t live in social groups like hives. Instead, they make solitary nests in hollow twigs and trees or burrow into holes in the ground. That makes them far less useful for agricultural purposes, but some scientists argue that it’s native bees we ought to be worried about losing — not honey bees. Some native species are in danger of quietly going extinct, according to Kevin Matteson, an urban ecologist at Fordham University. Beekeeping is a great way for people to connect with nature in an urban setting, but rooftop and garden hives will likely do little to stem pollinator declines on the whole, he argues. "It’s like keeping chickens," he says. It’s a great way to practice local, sustainable agriculture, "but you certainly wouldn’t say that keeping chickens in the city is going to benefit bird conservation." Advocates of urban beekeeping acknowledge that it won’t solve all the problems facing bees, but they still see many benefits to their passion. "I think you really learn that nature is a little bit bigger than you," says Greig. The beekeepers of New York hope their hobby will be legalized by spring. But Yassky’s beekeeping bill has hit a wall, according to Roberts, his chief of staff. It went to the city council’s health committee over the summer, and although it encountered no opposition, the committee was preoccupied with swine flu and didn’t act on it. At the end of the year, Yassky will no longer be a councilman. When he leaves office, the urban beekeeping bill will be filed away indefinitely, unless another council member steps up to champion the cause. At East New York Farms, Greig has time to wait. Her bees have hunkered down for the winter. Regardless of the law, she’ll be eager to see the bees emerge this spring, when they and others like them will pollinate gardens across the city once again.
Continue here: Bees Vs. The Big Apple