Luigi’s post on the perils of tobacco farming prompted a couple of thoughts. One is the old stuff about the ancient drugs being socially acceptable only because they have been around and in use by the ruling western hegemony for a long time. If anyone tried to introduce booze and cigarettes today they wouldn’t stand a chance. The other is that for the sake of consistency we really ought to advocate small-scale tobacco farming in Kentucky as vociferously as we advocate poppy growing in Afghanistan.
Creating and curing obesity
Better late than never, I guess. I’ve only just realized that the September issue of Scientific American was entitled Feast and Famine, and juxtaposed the ironic twin killer trends of hunger and obesity. Most of the material is unfortunately behind a paywall, but I have borrowed a hardcopy from a colleague and will be reading through it in the near future. If you’ve already done so and have any comments on what the various high-profile authors involved say about agrobiodiversity, let us know. One commentator has said:
This issue of Scientific American tells us there’s money to be made by creating and then curing obesity. That’s what the science approach to obesity is about and what the prevention-based approach is up against. ((I’ve borrowed my title from this article.))
Do you agree with this take?
Culling badgers backfires
There’s been a lot of news and discussion recently in the UK on animal diseases such as mad cow, foot and mouth, and bluetongue. Here’s another one to worry about: bovine tuberculosis. A paper just out in the Journal of Applied Biology explores the interaction between agricultural and wild biodiversity in the context of the spread of this disease in the UK ((H.E. Jenkins et al. (2007) Effects of culling on spatial associations of Mycobacterium bovis infections in badgers and cattle. Journal of Applied Ecology 44 (5), 897–908. doi:10.1111/j.1365-2664.2007.01372.x)).
Bovine tuberculosis can be spread by badgers, which have therefore been routinely culled for some years in many areas. But it turns out that badgers are in fact more mobile and adventurous in areas where their numbers have been thinned out. Which means they are most effective in spreading tuberculosis to cattle in exactly those areas where measures have been taken which were supposed to control the disease. The law of unintended consequences in action, I suppose.
Meanwhile, a big cull of feral pigs is on in Australia. ((Our occasional contributor Michael Kubisch wrote an interesting post on feral animals a few months back.)) Is this going to have some unintended consequences too?
Arctic seed monkeys in publicity storm
Some people have all the fun. Reporter Louise Roug, of the Los Angeles Times, has clearly had a blast writing a major feature on the Global Crop Diversity Trust’s “doomsday vault” on Svalbard, above the Arctic Circle. She has it all: glaciers and frozen wilderness; airlocks, steel-reinforced doors and a video-monitoring system; more aggressive farming methods, environmental degradation and changing weather patterns; quotes from senior science coordinators with the Trust.
She also, this being modern journalism, has contrary opinions. To provide balance. So the director of one NGO is reported as saying that the Arctic seed vault “tends to divert attention, energy and money away from what we consider as much more urgent and sustainable efforts to save biodiversity on the farm”.
The Cretaceous roots of agriculture
A comment on a long but fascinating post on yeast genetics and evolution at The Loom sent me to a New Scientist article from a couple of years back which is perhaps more immediately relevant to our agricultural biodiversity focus here.
Some time in the distant past Saccharomyces cerevisiae, to give it its full name, developed a chemical trick that would transform human societies. Some anthropologists have argued that the desire for alcohol was what persuaded our ancestors to become farmers and so led to the birth of civilisation.
The article goes on to describe how brewer’s yeast evolved its somewhat surprising abilities. It turns out that its peculiar habit of carrying out anaerobic respiration even in the presence of oxygen — at a steep energetic cost, and resulting in the production of what is usually a poison, alcohol — dates back to an accidental duplication of its genome back in the Cretaceous. Eighty million years ago later, bakers and brewers are daily taking advantage of a genetic mistake that took place in a microscopic fungus when dinosaurs ruled the Earth. Isn’t agrobiodiversity wonderful?