By ROGER COHEN
At some point — perhaps it was gazing
at a Le Pain Quotidien menu offering an “organic baker’s basket served with
organic butter, organic jam and organic spread” as well as seasonally organic
orange juice — I found I just could not stomach the “O” word or what it stood
for any longer.
Organic has long since become an ideology, the
romantic back-to-nature obsession of an upper middle class able to afford it
and oblivious, in their affluent narcissism, to the challenge of feeding a
planet whose population will surge to 9 billion before the
middle of the century and whose poor will get a lot
more nutrients from the two regular carrots they can buy for the price of one
organic carrot.
An effective form of premium
branding rather than a science, a slogan rather than better nutrition,
“organic” has oozed over the menus, markets and malls of the world’s upscale
neighborhood at a remarkable pace. In 2010, according to the Organic Trade Association,
organic food and drink sales totaled $26.7 billion in the
United States, or about 4 percent of the overall market, having
grown steadily since 2000. The British organic market is also large; menus like
to mention that bacon comes from pampered pigs at the Happy Hog farm down the
road.
In the midst of the fad few
questions have been asked. But the fact is that buying organic baby food, a
growing sector, is like paying to send your child to private school: It is a
class-driven decision that demonstrates how much you love your offspring but
whose overall impact on society is debatable.
So I cheered this week when Stanford University
concluded, after examining four decades of research, that
fruits and vegetables labeled organic are, on average, no more nutritious than
their cheaper conventional counterparts. The study also found that organic
meats offered no obvious health advantages. And it found that organic food was
not less likely to be contaminated by dangerous bacteria like E.coli.
The takeaway from the study
could be summed up in two words: Organic, schmorganic. That’s been my feeling
for a while.
Now let me say three nice
things about the organic phenomenon. The first is that it reflects a growing
awareness about diet that has spurred quality, small-scale local farming that
had been at risk of disappearance.
The second is that even if
it’s not better for you, organic farming is probably better for the environment
because less soil, flora and fauna are contaminated by chemicals (although of
course, without fertilizers, you have to use more land to grow the same amount
of produce or feed the same amount of livestock.) So this is food that is
better ecologically even if it is not better nutritionally.
The third is that the word
organic — unlike other feel-good descriptions of food like “natural” — actually
means something. Certification procedures in both the United States and Britain
are strict. In the United States, organic food must meet standards ensuring
that genetic engineering, synthetic fertilizers, sewage and irradiation were
not used in the food’s production. It must also be produced using methods that,
according to the Department of Agriculture, “foster cycling of resources,
promote ecological balance and conserve biodiversity.”
Still, the organic ideology is
an elitist, pseudoscientific indulgence shot through with hype. There is a
niche for it, if you can afford to shop at Whole Foods, but the future is
nonorganic.
To feed a planet of 9 billion
people, we are going to need high yields not low yields; we are going to need
genetically modified crops; we are going to need pesticides and fertilizers and
other elements of the industrialized food processes that have led mankind to be
better fed and live longer than at any time in history.
Logically, the organic
movement should favor genetically modified produce. If you cannot use
pesticides or fertilizers, you might at least want to modify your crops so they
are more resilient and plentiful. But that would go against the ideology and
romance of a movement that says: We are for nature, everyone else is against
nature.
I’d rather be against nature
and have more people better fed. I’d rather be serious about the world’s needs.
And I trust the monitoring agencies that ensure pesticides are used at safe
levels — a trust the Stanford study found to be justified.
Martin Orbach, the co-founder
and program director of the Abergavenny Food Festival in Britain, owns a
company called Shepherds that produces a superb sheep’s milk ice-cream sold at
a store in Hay-on-Wye. It has a cult following at the Hay literary festival and
beyond. Journalists, Orbach told me, regularly report that they have eaten an
“organic sheep’s milk ice cream.”
The only catch is this is not
true. “We have never said it’s organic because it would be illegal for us to do
so,” Orbach said. “But it fits with the story of a small sheep’s milk ice-cream
maker.”
Organic is a fable of the
pampered parts of the planet — romantic and comforting. Now, thanks to Stanford
researchers, we know just how replete with myth the “O” fable is.
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