Crops made, and remade

Two new studies of very different crops – banana and chrysanthemum, of all things – end up telling surprisingly similar, deliciously complicated stories. For these crops, domestication was not once and done, so to speak. They were both repeatedly remade as people moved them through landscapes containing new wild diversity.

In the banana study, the authors suggest that a partly domesticated Musa acuminata lineage from New Guinea was carried westwards through Southeast Asia, encountering and hybridizing again and again with different local wild bananas along the way. Each encounter added new genetic material to an already changing crop, helping produce the genomic mosaics found in mainland Southeast Asian bananas today.

The chrysanthemum study reveals a strikingly parallel history: cultivated plants originating in China were introduced to Japan, where they encountered local wild populations and acquired new genetic diversity, before later movements to Europe and further breeding reshaped the crop again.

The papers also show that an essentially similar process played out somewhat differently in the two crops. In banana, repeated hybridization appears to have been important in the building of the crop itself, as domesticated or partly domesticated plants became the starting material for successive encounters with wild Musa. In chrysanthemum, genomic analysis reveals a more complex network of relationships among multiple wild and cultivated groups, with C. indicum among the important ancestral contributors. In this genetic cauldron, hybridization and introgression repeatedly diversified an established cultivated genepool, contributing to traits such as flower form, colour and plant architecture.

Taken together, these papers challenge the familiar “funnel,” or bottleneck, image of domestication: a one-way downward slide from diverse wild relative to genetically narrow crop. Instead, they point to a more stop-start, two-way, non-linear, geographically contingent process, in which (semi-)cultivated plants continue to encounter, absorb and be reshaped by wild diversity.

In both banana and chrysanthemum — and probably many other cases — wild relatives have been more active, continuous participants in creating the diversity of the crops we know today than we sometimes give them credit for. Or I have given them credit for at any rate.

That argues for treating the wild genepool not simply as a reservoir from which to fish out useful genes one at a time. The historical evidence suggests that crops have benefited in the past from repeatedly absorbing larger chunks of wild genetic diversity, allowing selection to reconstruct useful combinations. Might it be worth trying to make that happen again? Is anyone out there doing pre-breeding explicitly with an eye to the past?

Nibbles: Amaranth webinar, FARA on fonio, Maslin, Gaza genebank, Nepal seeds, Golden Triangle tea

  1. New webinar series from the American Society of Plant Biologists will explore how underutilized (or is it opportunity) crops like amaranth can contribute to nutrition, food security and rural livelihoods.
  2. FARA highlights the tiny West African grain fonio as another crop with potential to improve nutrition, strengthen food systems and create new opportunities for farmers and value chains.
  3. Taiwanese tea has travelled an unlikely route into northern Thailand. It too was an opportunity crop at one time.
  4. Ethiopian farmers may have been practising regenerative agriculture for millennia, mixing wheat, barley and other grains in the same field. The Rockefeller Foundation is on it.
  5. Efforts to restore the Al Qarara Seed Bank in Gaza are offering a small but significant form of agricultural recovery.
  6. In Nepal, indigenous seeds are losing ground to hybrids, but seed advocates are fighting back.

50 years of cassava diversity: what went into the bank, and what came out

Two new papers in Plants, published two months apart, tell the story of CIAT’s cassava genebank 1 from opposite ends: how the collection was assembled and conserved, and what breeders have actually done with it. Read together, they amount to a remarkably candid 50-year audit of a slow-motion agricultural asset. I’ll just give you the main beats here. It’s really worth reading both papers in full.

Part I is the origin story. Botanist Victor Manuel Patiño’s 1969–70 expeditions alone brought in roughly a third of today’s 5,000 or so cassava landraces, transported as stem cuttings across Colombia, Ecuador, Venezuela and beyond, often in difficult conditions and under changing quarantine rules.

The collection has its blind spots: Brazil and the Guianas remain poorly represented 2, passport information can be patchy, and the overwhelmingly male composition of historical collecting teams probably meant that some of the varietal knowledge held by women farmers went unrecorded.

Conservation itself has been a moving target. It has evolved from field genebanks to in vitro slow-growth tissue culture storage after a frogskin-disease scare forced the field collection to close in 2003, and now cryopreservation at CIAT’s Future Seeds facility. Meanwhile, DNA fingerprinting keeps revealing an awkward truth familiar to genebank curators everywhere: the names people give varieties and the genetic identities of the material do not always agree. A lot of effort over the years has also gone into testing for pathogens to ensure that distribution is safe.

Part II asks what all this diversity is actually for? The answer has also changed considerably over five decades. Early researchers chased traits such as high protein and low cyanogenic content before turning towards yield and starch percentage in the Green Revolution era.

The payoffs have been considerable: landraces have contributed traits such as resistance to pests and diseases, adaptation to acid soils and highland cold, and quality traits for fresh-market cooking versus industrial starch. The route from accession to released variety is rarely direct: a landrace gets screened for a trait, crossed, then recombined and selected over several more generations before anything reaches a farmer’s field. The results include varieties like Nataima-3, bred for whitefly resistance thanks to an Ecuadorian landrace. At the same time, the authors argue that cassava breeding now needs to move beyond broad phenotypic selection towards more systematic use of inbred lines, because the crop’s high heterozygosity makes the introduction of specific traits particularly difficult.

The two papers therefore tell a big story about genebanks. Collecting diversity is only the beginning; its value is realized decades later, when a breeder encounters a problem that nobody could have anticipated when the stuff was first collected. The cassava collection is a long-term portfolio of biological options, one whose contents have taken half a century to assemble, whose inventory is still being corrected, and whose most valuable assets may be the ones that have not yet been used.

A new project is looking to genetically engineer cassava to photosynthesize more efficiently at higher temperatures. I do wonder whether someone has already checked whether any of those 5,000 landraces might help with that. Maybe they can’t, but it’s worth having a look. And you never know, something else of interest might jump out. That’s the beauty of large international collections of crop diversity such as CIAT’s.

Nibbles: Processing, Shōjin Ryōri, Philippines landraces, National Soybean Germplasm Collection, Kazakhstan genebank, Reading chocolate, Parmesan bank

  1. Grinding, fermenting, and detoxifying our way to bigger brains — an anthropologist makes the case that food processing, historically women’s work, did as much for human evolution as the mammoth-spearing got credit for.
  2. Speaking of transforming raw ingredients into something civilization-defining: a Japanese temple has been quietly perfecting vegan cooking for 700 years, no marketing department required.
  3. Meanwhile in the Philippines, Naturland, the international association for organic farming from Germany, is linking up with Global Seed Savers Philippines, to help farmers get their hands on indigenous crop diversity before it disappears.
  4. If you want to see what “future-proofing seeds” looks like at scale, the National Soybean Germplasm Collection just turned 100: a century of squirreling away soybean diversity, just in case.
  5. Kazakhstan wants in on the squirreling too: plans are moving forward for a new genebank to safeguard agricultural biodiversity across Islamic Organization for Food Security member states.
  6. The University of Reading is also 100, and in celebration scientists there harvested beans from its cacao collection (yes, it has a cacao collection) to make Britain’s first homegrown chocolate bar since 1932, a novelty act with a serious undertone: climate change is squeezing cacao’s traditional growing belt.
  7. And in Italy, the squeeze is already showing up on the balance sheet: Parmesan’s “Fort Knox” — $350 million of cheese squirreled away as loan collateral — is feeling the heat, with rising cooling costs and falling yields rattling wine and olive oil too.