My earliest associations with the term organic came through reading books from the Rodale Institute and on the subject of permaculture. As a young scientist I found the interwoven nature of the minerals, water, sunshine and life both irresistible and compelling. The idea that mankind could study and learn to orchestrate these forces has become both a lifetime fascination for me and foundational to the success for our farm.
The core principle in most of these systems revolves around a concept known as biomimicry. Biomimicry is founded on the observation that the Earth has existed in an essentially fruitful and stable form since inception. It has everything we need in a balanced and ever-renewing form if we only just take the time to stop and observe how the watchmaker (blind or otherwise) put it together. Running against the design with greed, ignorance or sloth often yields short-term gains, but will usually cook the goose that laid the golden egg.
One of my favorite examples of an wholistic organic system comes from the master himself, Joel Salatin at Polyface Farms, who famously refuses to participate in the organic certification charade. In this example, Joel has built a system which mimics the natural lifecycle of several plants and animals. It starts with a bed of carbon, which is the building block of every organic system on this planet. In his case he uses wood chips, or rotted hay etc., and confines his cows on this carbon base over the winter so they don't damage the pastures which need a seasonal rest. The cattle, of course, drop their urine and manure onto the carbon, which is readily soaked up owing to the miraculous nature of the carbon molecule. He keeps layering on more carbon as the winter progresses, building up a rich and stable mixture of carbon, nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, calcium, sulfur and other minor nutrients. This is all standard practice for any modern organic ranch, but then Joel throws in a twist. He drops handfuls of corn into that mixture over the course of the winter. These pockets are quickly covered by more organic soup and start to ferment. When it's time for the cattle to return to their pasture in the spring, he turns his hogs loose into the confined area. With their keen sense of smell and natural digging habit they find those tasty pockets of corn and in the process effectively rotary till the entire stack into a smooth compost -- a compost that's perfect for growing more hay, more corn, more trees... and the cycle continues.
That's the organic ideal: wholesome and sustainable with little reliance on external inputs like fossil fuel. And really the only cleverness required in this system is understanding that nature has most of the answers if we only listen.
Unfortunately, we live in a fallen world where charlatans counterfeit these principles to a short-term advantage. That's where the government steps in with the goal of protecting the little guys who actually live their philosophy from those who are out to make a quick buck. They set up a system of rules intended to strike a balance between protecting the organic ideal and building a food system capable of feeding a growing human population.
As with any system serving two opposing goals under a democracy, it's possible to find examples where any one person would have chosen a different set of tradeoffs. My pet-peeve on this list is their position on bioplastics. In case you didn't know, plastics are everywhere in agriculture. Plastic is used for everything from string to tie up bales of hay, containers for potted plants, and "mulch film" to smother weeds and conserve water. The mulch film plastic is especially prevalent in organic farming, because it's so incredibly hard to control weeds and pests without the use of chemicals. Because these plastics are largely designed for one-time use, they are a major source of non-renewable materials. So the irony here is that while you think you are doing a good thing for the world by paying the extra money for organic produce, your efforts often backfire.
I want to come clean here that I made that very mistake my first year growing vegetables. I covered about a third of my fields with plastic with the vague idea of recycling it somewhere down the line. Turns out that China doesn't want our garbage after all, and it all went to the dump -- an enormous pile of plastic that took about five large trailer-loads to completely haul away. Coming from a family that religiously composts and recycles everything we possibly can, this made me absolutely sick.
On the other hand, the vegetables thrived under the plastic. It warmed the roots, eliminated weeds and kept down my irrigation costs. So as an organic farmer trying to grow the best product for the best price, using sort of plastic-like material makes a lot sense. So I started looking around and found a type of compostable plastics, which seemed to be the perfect solution. Sure, they cost three times the price, but that would only affect my margins a little bit, and preserving my integrity was worth the exchange. So far so good. But, if you read section 205.2 in the organic standard, you'll realize that no compostable plastic on the marketplace meets organic criteria. Every one of these compostable plastic products contains at least a tiny bit of material that disqualifies it from use in "organic" applications.
In my view, this is an example of the perfect becoming the enemy of the good. In other words, in trying to reach a lofty ideal, the organic standard committee has effectively encouraged the majority of organic farms to bury or burn around 186 million pounds of plastic each year. This is anything but the organic ideal.
Playing the devil's advocate for a bit, it could be argued that the organic standard should hold its ground. Keep the bar high and technology will eventually figure out a truly 100% organic solution to the problem. The problem with this argument is twofold. First, until we achieve such a technological breakthrough, we are wasting a tremendous natural resource that will never be recovered. Second, the organic standard committee clearly does not apply this same rigid organic standard across the board. Some industries, like the rice and apple farmers, have managed to sneak in riders to help their cause. For example, did you know it's legal for organic rice growers to bomb their patties with copper sulfate (an established toxin) once a year to combat an undesired shrimp? Did you know it's legal for an organic apple grower to use hydrogen peroxide to combat plant diseases? Clearly, there is a strong lobby behind these compromises. Clearly, the petroleum-based plastics industry was strong enough to squelch a similar compromise on bio-plastics.
I don't want to come down to hard on the USDA Certified Organic committee because I believe they've done a lot more good for the world than harm. I'm just raising this as an example of how complex the organic issues can be and why consumers need to stay engaged beyond a simple label check. Where possible, buy local and get to know what's going on under the hood.
So what are we going to do about plastics? As a small farm trying to gain a national presence, we need that Organic Certified label. Maybe Joel Salatin doesn't need it because he's famous, but I simply cannot compete on price with a non-organic grower unless I get that extra price bump from the organic label. On the other hand, what does it profit a man to gain the world and lose his soul?
That's where saffron came in and really saved us. It's a plant that grows well without plastic, chemical fertilizers, pesticides and a lot of the other tools in a standard farmer's toolbelt. We're hoping it's enough to make a living while maintaining our standards.