Leveling the farming field

[photo courtesy of Ed Coper, New Media, Slow Food USA]

Yep, that's me with my big mouth open, standing among fellow Slow Foodies on the steps of the USDA during the lunch break. I swear I thought Ed had already snapped the picture when I turned to... actually, I have no idea what I was doing. Yelling? Singing? Talking with someone coming out of a door? Yawning? Hmmm. Reason #423 there aren't more photos of me on this blog: I don't stand still very well.

I spent most of yesterday at the last of a 5-part series of workshops on Competition and Antitrust issues in the agricultural sector. (Funny, I've lived in DC on and off since the late 1980s and been obsessed with food my entire life, and yet this was my first time inside the USDA building. Next time I need to scope out the People's Garden.) The sessions mark an unprecedented joint effort led by the USDA and the Department of Justice to learn from producers and consumers about the current state of agriculture in this country and possible paths forward, with a specific eye to cultivating a playing field in which small, sustainable producers have a fighting chance to get (and stay) in business. At least that's my take on it. It was quite a diverse group, from the panelists to the onlookers to the folks giving testimony. People from across the spectrum of the food reform movement and around the country sidled up to the microphone during the public testimony segments and I had a chance to hear folks offer their stories, their suggestions, their hopes for a fairer food system. If our country is going to be able to feed itself, each speaker urged, we're going to need to level the playing field.

I'd first heard of the meetings a number of months ago from the folks at Food Democracy Now. (Hold on. Are you on their mailing list yet? You should be. Even my mom is impressed with the advocacy work they are doing. I get an e mail from her every time she signs a petition. Ah, moms. I'm proud of her.) I ran into the FDN dream team (Dave, Lisa, and Paul) in the hallway between sessions, returning from the Hill where they'd delivered a giant box of comments -- printouts from nearly a quarter of a million concerned citizens around the country, pleas for policymakers to break up domineering food monopolies and give family farmers a chance. It's always good to see some of my favorite food advocates. While the sessions themselves were somewhat meandering -- I don't want to say that the questions panel leaders posed could've been better, but, well, they could've been more probing -- I was proud to be a part of the larger effort of groups ranging from Slow Food USA to Why Hunger to Food & Water Watch to Farm Aid who had come together to demand safer, healthier food and support for the dedicated farmers who produce it.

During the session, I learned that our country has lost more than 800,000 farmers over the past 40 years and meanwhile the remaining farming population continues to age. While many of the folks going into organic farming are relatively young -- at least according to the informal data I gathered from farms around the country during the bikeable feast -- the recent trend of young people going into farming is not on a large enough scale to compensate for the aging general farming population. Not only is the work incredibly hard and poorly paid (reminds me of my days as a high school teacher), I also worry about the ability of these young farmers to handle the debt they are taking on to start these small but critical operations. In an economy like the one we're in, will they be around in 5 years? Then there is the competition they are facing from large, commodity-focused farms subsidized by the government and a food system that depends on cheap labor and low-quality products. My take home message: we need to encourage and support regional food systems led by these small, sustainable farmers. We cannot continue to be controlled by gigantic, self-interested food conglomerates that rake what few farmers remain over the coals.

While the next Farm Bill isn't up for debate until 2012, this first dipping of my toe into federal ag policy has definitely shown me that I've much to learn between now and then so that I can be a more educated and effective advocate for regional, responsible food systems. I'm hoping such learning opportunities in the future don't involve biking in 20-degree headwinds at 7am....

Organic, schmorganic

I feel as though I've been deliberately avoiding a confrontation with the hot topic of GMOs (genetically modified organisms -- for our purposes, GM food crops) for some time now. The truth is that I'm still trying to work out where I stand. There are compelling arguments on both sides, frankly, but I read something earlier today that got me all hot and bothered enough to try and gather my thoughts on the matter.

Some GMO proponents argue for the potential to develop food crops that have a higher nutritional value. This is key in areas where malnutrition can be deadly (the humanitarian argument). There is also the possibility of developing hardier varieties that are resistant to, say, frost or pests or drought; maybe they will require less chemical fertilizers or pesticides (the productivity argument). There are some good points, and thoughtful crop scientists and farmers and researchers working toward these very goals.

On the other hand, anti-GMO folks argue against the use of untested products (the unknown long-term repercussions argument), or harbor an inherent distrust of the big companies running the show (the corporate greed argument), or believe that scientists shouldn't be meddling with nature (the frankenstein argument, or what I heard someone at the Community Food Security Conference I went to back in Des Moines refer to as the "God Move Over" argument -- this last one's a bit too anti-science for my taste).

I'm sure I've inadvertently missed arguments on both sides, and for that I look to you, readers, to help me out here. I'm not anti-GMO, categorically: consider the humanitarian and productivity arguments. There's a lot of possibility for good. But at present, the way things seem to be heading, I can't help but find myself anxious about GM food crops. They've been out on the market for years now, often in the form of the ubiquitous (and popularly maligned yet still consumed in mass quantities) high fructose corn syrup. And yet the long-term effects of GM foods have not been tested nearly as long or thoroughly as, say, vaccines or many prescription drugs before flooding the U.S. market. (Ever wonder why the European Union refuses to produce or purchase GM foods? Are they all just overly paranoid?)

Also, I just don't trust the folks running things: groups like Monsanto, Pioneer, and Syngenta are *profit-driven* above all else. Making money is not inherently a bad thing so long as it does not obliterate any sense of ethics. From what I can discern, Monsanto sells GM seeds at home and abroad that are comparatively inexpensive so as to undersell most other seed producers, their GM seeds are sterile (so farmers can't save seed to plant the following year) and are designed to only to respond to specific pesticides (that, guess what, are only sold by Monsanto), and there are hundreds of cases where the company has tried to strong arm farmers who refuse to buy their seed or who speak out against them. (Shoot, am I on their watch list now? Nah, probably not. My guess is they're not interested in a food-loving cyclist and her raw milk yoghurt recipe.) Don't believe me? Put "The Future of Food" on your Netflix list -- the presentation might be a bit tedious in places, but many of the points raised are good ones.

Regardless of which side of the issue I might some day find myself, one thing is certain: GM crops should not qualify as "organic." And yet, I learned from my friends over at Food Democracy Now, this is exactly what will happen if Monsanto (boo, hiss) pushes a pending piece of legislation through the USDA to certify their genetically modified alfalfa as organic. What's next, organically certified GM tomatoes? It's a slippery slope in a system where the qualifications for "organic" products continue to lose credibility. (Seriously, you should see all of the "natural" ingredients, preservatives, and products are considered "organic" these days. At least the "no lab-manufactured chemical applications" and "no genetic modification" criteria retain some integrity thus far.)

I can hear you asking, "What can I do?" Well, here's a start: add your voice to the group protesting Monsanto's push to certify its GM alfalfa as organic. Here's where to find more info:
http://fdn.actionkit.com/go/111?akid=88.84907.E3xKTt&t=6. The deadline for comments is later today: March 3.

Sorry for the late notice on this one. I've been biking all day -- 70 miles! -- and just had a chance to read through the material and become indignant. Now, time for sleep....

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Hog heaven

Nearing the end of my stint in Iowa, land of corn and pigs -- no, really, most of the postcards in the state feature one or both of these -- I stopped to assess a few things. Had I worked on a cornfield in the state? No. Pig farm? No. Hmmm.

Now, Iowa has a reputation as largely the land of CAFO (Confined Animal Feeding Operation) pork farms and fields of genetically-modified feedcorn and soybeans (to fatten up animals crammed into the CAFOs). This is actually the case: across the entire eastern half of the state which produces most of our country's pork I never once saw a pig outdoors. (Not even on the handful of nice days over the course of nearly a month as I roamed from Dubuque to Davenport to Des Moines to Decorah.) However, I'd heard of alternatives and was hoping to spend a little time on a sustainable pork farm. I'd read a bit about Niman Ranch's commitment to free-range, humane animal treatment, so when the opportunity arose to work with Paul, who has a hog farm himself and manages the organization's pork farmers in the region, I gladly took it.

Paul and Phyllis welcomed me onto their farm -- and into their kitchen -- in Thornton, IA for a few days to learn about free-range hog farming and their lifelong devotion to raising animals conscientiously. They have been doing it for over 30 years. They have continued their work while being surrounded by confined animal feeding operations and neighbors who scowl and yell and wag fingers at the upstarts who dare to go against the grain, who have the poor manners -- it *is* the midwest -- to question the status quo. They try to be friendly toward members of the community, but at the same time the Willises stand firmly behind an unwavering code of ethics when it comes to raising their animals. (They are also avid birders and land stewards, I learned, and had converted large portions of their property back to native prairie -- also uncommon for their area. Rebels with a cause, those two.)

I tagged along with Paul on morning chores each day. I helped him relocate a mama sow and piglets who had nested outdoors during the freezing rainstorm, shepherding them to a nearby corrugated metal shed. (Dozens of these straw-filled, single pig family homes dotted each grazing field, offering shelter from the elements while one open side retained access to the pasture at all times.) I learned about the lack of market for boar meat due to its intense, er, 'musky' odor and the standard practice of castrating the young male piglets to prevent the hormone-based flavor development. (The procedure was quick and the tiny piglets healed quickly, I observed... a bit squeamishly.) We pitchforked fresh hay into the pig houses for the sows to nest and checked to be sure the feed was accessible. (Paul quite deftly sprung into and out of one of the feeders at one point -- quite spry for a man probably double my age. Must be all of the exercise and great food... he and Phyllis are quite the cooks.)

I also should admit that I was often distracted by the pigs. As I approached each section of the field, sows and piglets sprinted away, then crept back toward me. As I stood still, chatting and leaning on my pitchfork, they curiously sniffed, shuffling ever closer, and tried to nibble on the fork tines or my plastic boot covers. (So: goats like my pants, turkeys like my shoelaces, pigs like my boot covers.) Paul often smiled and shook his head, patiently reminding me after awhile that we did need to, you know, finish up the chores. The pigs were so cute!

I have to agree with Dave, who regularly visits the farm, ostensibly to collaborate on farm policy initiatives: the piglets at Paul's free-range hog farm are possibly the cutest animals ever. (Though Dave and Paul are good friends, and co-founded the advocacy group Food Democracy Now, I wouldn't be surprised if Dave stops by sometimes just to cavort with the piglets in their pasture.) They are happy pigs if I ever saw any. And after a life of fresh air, romping around in the mud and grass, and being processed a few at a time at small local butcher shops (like Ventura Locker, where we picked up the porkchops for Friday night's feast), I swear they are the most delicious.


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Show me the movement

I have come into contact with a lot of inspirational people so far in my journey to learn about food. Many have been the farmers who have chosen to devote their lives to sustainable agriculture, to growing good food for others in their community because they feel it's the right thing to do. Some are folks I have read about for some time, who have emerged as voices speaking powerfully on behalf of the movement toward better food in our country, those changing the way we interact with food. There's Michael Pollan, whose books and articles continue to examine the bizarre animal that is the American consumer of foodlike substances in an effort to inform and advocate for a food system overhaul. (I really did get kind of giddy listening to him speak, and found myself entirely too shy to introduce myself when I was within 3 feet of him during the book signing at the Food For Thought festival back in Madison.) There's Will Allen who is fostering relationships within his local community and beyond while he produces massive amounts of chemical-free food and teaches folks how to grow their own. (I was also too awestruck to introduce myself to him when he gave a talk at the local community center during my time in Madison.) And there's Dave Murphy, the food activist I finally worked up the nerve to try and contact and subsequently had the pleasure of meeting at the recent conference on food security in Des Moines.

Dave, who founded Food Democracy Now in an effort to promote more sustainability-minded Secretary of Agriculture candidates for appointment under the new White House administration, comes to food from an entirely different angle than many at the conference. Some folks work on community organizing, some on food production, some on establishing connections between farms and buyers, some on nutrition education. Dave works on policy. It's important for folks to know how to produce and consume food responsibly, he conceded, but for real change to happen on a larger scale, what he argues for is a change at the policy level. In short, we need legislation that shifts state and federal funds to encourage more sound agricultural practices, and which ceases funding to programs that are destroying farmers and their livelihoods (not to mention the planet and our national health).

While he casually references the ridiculous number of miles he's put on his car going around to talk with farmers all over the state, it's evident that he really does his homework: talking with people who make the policies and those affected by them to get a real understanding of what's going on. (And talk about smart. I swear he eats those indecipherable proposed House bills and regulation documents for breakfast.) From Dave, I learned about the horrific state of large-scale animal food production in our country, and in Iowa in particular. There are more humane ways to raise animals for food than on confined animal feedlots (or as they are known in the business, CAFOs) -- I have visited farms all around the eastern half of the country, so I know there are alternatives. Dave told me of a pending proposal to give millions of dollars to perpetuate a failing (and, in my opinion, ethically reprehensible in its treatment of animals) factory farm system to stem the farmers' record losses resulting from high feed costs and massive overproduction. Another bailout?? Rather than amending their practices, these farms who are sitting low on the hog (for a change) are asking for more government money to continue (subsidized) business as usual. What will be done with all of the excess pork that can't be sold? Most likely it will end up in some fried pork foodlike substance on your kid's styrofoam school lunch tray.

"Show me the movement": I've heard the now famous instance of President Obama -- well, it's famous in the local food movement world, anyway, since Pollan has bandied it about in a few of his talks by now -- claiming that in order for the White House to get behind the relatively small but growing call for sustainable, regional food systems, people were going to have to get louder about it. There needs to be a public outcry against the current system that is slowly but surely making us poorer and then killing us earlier. Our current food system, like our healthcare system, is broken. (And you thought I could make it a whole post without ranting about healthcare, which, incidentally, was another hot topic at the food security conference. Well, as I've said, they're related.) The fact that Ag Secretary Vilsack gave a talk at breakfast during the final morning of the food security conference means that Washington may be starting to listen. But we're not loud enough yet.

Change. Michael Pollan may write about it, but it's people like Dave who will make it happen. Right now, he is part of a campaign that is gathering signatures to protest the pork bailout package. You can add your voice to the petition here. It is a small but important step toward the long overdue overhaul of our country's food system.