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Gleanings from the Editor

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by Scott Harris

Food security is a surprisingly difficult subject to generate interest in. We live in a society in which we can get almost any manner of food at any time of the year, so why worry? Because the modern American food chain is supported by a few very vulnerable links.

Less than a century ago almost all fresh food was produced locally. It had to be. There was no refrigeration. Roads were miserable. Horses and wagons were the principle vehicle of short-haul freight. There was only so far your could carry a tomato. Since World War I, and especially since World War II, all of that infrastructure was replaced and speeded up. Macadam and concrete replaced dirt roads. Trucks replaced carts. Refrigeration was installed on freight cars. We developed a whole new distribution system linked to cheap petroleum energy.

Another important link was built on a tradition handed down to us from feudal England. Hundreds of years ago our forebears lived in areas deeded to and protected by Royals or their appointees. They were spaces about the size of what we would call a county (a term that originally described the area ruled by one Count). There was always lots of violent contention for land.

Great walled fortresses were the military centers. If you had woods right up to your fortress, people could tiptoe up to the front doors and pillage away (medieval for bust a move on you). So they cut down trees in a perimeter around ye olde castle and planted low-growing plants in it. That being done, they could see any would-be attackers in time to start a pot of boiling oil and sharpen the swords. It was the birth of the lawn.

The ancient perception that every home (read: castle) has to have a flat treeless perimeter around it has fueled the menace that is urban sprawl. Land which should be used to produce the food for population centers is being consumed by the very people it should be feeding. Would-be farmers are priced or taxed farther and farther away from the people whom they would feed. This represents a link which is being cut through at an alarming rate.

At the same time that roads and trucks were proliferating, farms were being mechanized. Instead of walking behind a mule all day to plow two acres, a farmer could sit on a tractor all day and plow twenty acres. All in all, it was a pretty good thing.

We, as a people, can’t leave a good thing alone. If a small tractor is good, surely a larger tractor is proportionately better. If one hundred acres is good, ten thousand must be that much better still. The tractor’s predecessors (mules, horses, oxen) produced manure and offspring. They fertilized the fields that they worked and manufactured their own replacements. The "fuel" for a draft animal could be produced on the farm. The tractor had none of those attributes. Tractor farmers became dependent on big industry for fertility, fuel and new "muscle" to run their farms and, again, those industries were dependent on cheap energy to produce and transport their goods.

Growth in agriculture since the end of the war was based on an industrial model. Industrializing agriculture as a strategy has worked toward the goal of producing large quantities of cheap, standardized food.

I’m reminded of a story about a large, well-organized crew working at hacking a road through a jungle. In the front is a large group of strong men with machetes. Behind them is a line of people keeping a steady flow of water, snacks and sharp machetes available. On the outside edges of these front lines are surveyors making sure that the path is appropriately straight and wide. Behind them is a group of foremen making sure that all the workers and processes are moving smoothly.

The entire scene is an inspiring model of efficiency until a lone voice from the top of a high tree cries out. After looking at the map in his hands and the work on the ground several times, the man in the tree yells, "WRONG JUNGLE!" After a moment of hesitation, the crew on the ground protests, "BUT WE’RE MAKING GREAT PROGRESS!" Obviously, the point is that just because things are going smoothly, it doesn’t mean you’re on the right path.

The huge amounts of capital required to run an industrial farm has slowly and surely priced most small farmers out of business. At the turn of the last century, one in three working Americans was a farmer. At the turn of the 21st century, fewer than one in sixty makes his living on the farm.

More and more of our food is produced, packaged and sold by huge conglomerates. It has been estimated that ten cents out of every U.S. food dollar goes into the pocket of RJR Nabisco. Phillip Morris/Kraft/Miller Brands isn’t far behind. As production concentrates on a few companies the potential for price fixing and other illegal manipulations of markets grows exponentially. When a very few companies control all of our food, will they compete to produce what we want or will they conspire to persuade us to buy what they can sell most profitably?

Let’s take stock: A few enormous companies produce most of our food. They do it on huge farms an average of 1200 miles from the end consumer. They (therefore we) are totally dependent on cheap petroleum fuel to get the food to our local market. If anything goes wrong (oil shortage, labor unrest, a handful of executives decide they aren’t rich enough, etc.) we will be at their mercy. After all, we’ve divided much of our productive land into quarter-acre lots and planted St. Augustine grass on it. It makes you want to stock up on canned goods.

Or maybe trees. One of the saddest casualties of modern agriculture is the loss of local fruit production. Before WWII there were literally hundreds of locally popular fruit varieties. Even in scorching Texas there were things like apples, peaches, pears and plums that were handed down for generations just like jewelry and china. They were bred and selected for local climates but also for local tastes. Different cultures who settled the area had different tastes and they selected for them in the fruits that graced their homesteads and yards. "Heirloom" food varieties defined a person’s heritage as much as language or dress.

My paternal grandmother’s favorite apple is a great case in point. One of the memories that defines Grandma Harris in my mind was her enthusiastically explaining how, at different stages of ripeness, a Gravenstein apple would make perfect cider, pies or fresh eating. Unfortunately Gravensteins don’t ship well so growers turn to less distinctive, varieties.

Even from a strictly scientific standpoint, the loss of wild and heirloom fruit (and all other food plant) varieties poses a serious threat to our current abundance. As we lose old varieties we come to rely on far fewer new ones which are developed for a homogenous mass market.

Diseases and pests live short lives and reproduce in incredible numbers. They adapt and evolve much faster than "higher" forms of life. Constant exposure to chemical treatments only encourages them to develop resistance. If a major pest developed chemical resistance and the few varieties of the crop left have no natural resistance, we could face devastating loss. A very broad diversity of plants, each with its own set of natural resistances, is our best insurance against such loss.

Huge, bland, blemish-free fruits from the Pacific Northwest, China, Mexico and New Zealand fill our fruit bowls with color but no real distinction. It’s time we rebuilt this part of our heritage, throw off the shackles of corporate patronization and teach a new generation how our choice of food can define us as a nation of individuals.

Most of our heirloom fruit varieties are permanently lost, but that shouldn’t prevent you from starting new traditions of your own. The effort of selecting the things that you enjoy will only add more meaning to passing those tastes on to the generations that follow.

To start a fruit heritage of your own, start with your family. Ask your oldest living relatives what they remember about their favorite fruits from their youth. They may even direct you to an old grove or yard tree. Next, hit up your county extension office. Here in Travis County we’re fortunate to have Skip Richter. He’s a great fruit-growing enthusiast. Whomever you speak to, explain that you’d like to know about local traditional fruit varieties to try on your own. Also ask about learning to graft. It’s a valuable skill if you want to "rescue" old fruit trees.

If you know any local rural landowners, ask if they know of old house sites where old fruit trees might be found. If a local search proves fruitless (sorry about the pun!), try the North American Fruit Explorers (Rt 1 Box 94, Chapin IL 62628). Try also the California Rare Fruit Growers Association. (5081 Dartmouth Ave, Westminster CA 92683 or www.crfg.org).

As you search for what you’d like your food legacy to be, explore things that reflect your tastes and what you know of your heritage. Your selection can be part of a food security strategy and a memorial to your culture. The richness of experience that comes from growing some of your own food crosses nutritional, recreational, cultural and evens spiritual lines like no other activity.

Scott Harris is Urban Orchard Coordinator with TreeFolks in Austin. They offer classes in tree selecting and growing. Contact them at 512-443-5323 or treefolk@io.org.