A Babel of agrobiodiversity

The rise and fall of language diversity through the Holocene” by Blasi, Hamilton, Gray & Bowern, published in Science last month, does something I really love. It complicates a standard narrative.

The received story of language diversity is that it has been declining steadily for centuries, largely driven by colonialism and globalization. But direct evidence is scarce: writing only reliably takes us back about 6,000 years. So the team combined ethnographic data from 171 hunter-gatherer and fisher societies, paleodemographic estimates of global population, and statistical and social-computational modelling to reconstruct plausible trajectories of global language diversity over the 12,000 years of the Holocene, which began after the last major ice age.

At the beginning of this period, they estimate there were roughly 4,500–6,200 languages. That’s actually fewer than the roughly 7,500 languages spoken today. Language diversity then increased through most of the Holocene, driven by population growth, reaching a peak between about 1,000 and 3,000 years ago, when the models suggest that tens of thousands of languages may have existed. That’s an order of magnitude more than today.

Then came a major collapse. The authors argue that the decline in linguistic diversity began with the expansion of large states and empires, long before European colonialism. Expanding populations and their languages, cultures and institutions displaced smaller ones. Today’s languages are therefore “survivors of a massive and highly selective historical bottleneck.” They persist because the populations speaking them expanded. Extinction, the authors argue, has shaped linguistic and cultural diversity far more than we have appreciated.

Now, there are obvious caveats. The authors are modelling linguistic diversity, not measuring it. Their estimates depend on heroic assumptions about early ethnolinguistic group sizes, global population and the relationship between population and language number. Regional histories could have been very different, and the model can’t reconstruct individual episodes of extinction caused by war, disease or environmental change.

But the paper provides a provocative template for thinking about diversity more generally. It suggests that population growth can initially generate diversity; but expanding societies can subsequently erase it through homogenization.

And that makes me wonder about agricultural biodiversity. You saw that coming, I’m sure.

I’m not suggesting that crop diversity followed the same pattern as language diversity through the Holocene. We simply don’t have the evidence to say that, though it’s an intriguing thought. But could we borrow the methodology? Could we reconstruct plausible trajectories of crop or agricultural-system diversity from fragmentary archaeological, ethnobotanical, genetic and demographic evidence?

Rather than assuming that agricultural diversity was happily vast and stable in the distant past in its Vavilovian centres, and has been declining recently, perhaps we might end up complicating the familiar genetic erosion narrative too. That would be worthwhile. And fun.

The accessions in Spain fall mainly everywhere

My ex-colleagues at the Crop Trust have a very nice animation on the Genesys blog-type thing showing the progress of landrace collecting around the world over the past 125 years.

Do please read the post for the details of how it was done, and some observations on the results.

Here I just wanted to highlight something that has always intrigued me: how did Spain get so heavily collected? It’s really striking how in any global map of collecting localities, Spain looks like a solid carpet, with genebank accessions from practically every nook and cranny. More so than most neighbouring countries, I would say.

Well, it’s a little difficult to be sure because there’s no slider on the animation to take it backwards and forwards at will, but it looks like a burst of collecting first in the 40s, and then some filling in of gaps in the 80s, are responsible for the blanket coverage.

Maybe someone more familiar with the history of germplasm collecting in Spain can explain more.

Brainfood: Avocado history, Brazil commuity seedbanks, Citizen science, Agroecology double, Indigenous knowledge, Turkish seeds, Swiss biodiversity

Nibbles: Museum of Cider, Aport apple, Rattan genebank, Sri Lanka rice, Saudi coffee landscapes

  1. In the UK, Herefordshire’s Museum of Cider is picking up national recognition for its genebank of heritage apple trees. The BBC’s canonical autumnal apple story comes a little early this year.
  2. Speaking of iconic apples, Kazakhstan is scaling up efforts to bring back the Aport, the giant heirloom that once made Almaty famous. No word of museums, though. Or cider.
  3. Over in the Philippines, Department of Environment and Natural Resources is beefing up its rattan genebank to keep pace with demand, with forest stewards in Bukidnon planting seedlings to match. Furniture makers need genebanks as much as cider makers.
  4. Sri Lanka’s pre-Green Revolution heirloom rice varieties, purana haal, are being eyed for their resilience and disease-management potential. Good thing they’re in the national genebank.
  5. Saudi Arabia’s Jazan terraced coffee farms are turning into rural and ecotourism hotspots, proving not all agrobiodiversity needs to be in a genebank to survive. But it helps.

Smelling the heirloom coffee

Yet more on agrobiodiversity marketing in Kenya. This time it’s coffee.

Spring Valley Coffee gives out nifty little cards on all its products, providing information on the varietal composition of different blends, and where the beans that go into each are grown.

This decaf from Guji in Ethiopia caught my eye in particular…

…because the variety involved is a heirloom. But also because if you’re going to those lengths, why not quote its local name?

Anyway, still a pretty nice idea.