Want a sustainable food system? Change markets, not farmers.
By Brandy M. Wilson, April 4, 2024
Regenerative agriculture promises to sustainably reshape the food system, but as currently practiced, it is more about passing the buck to farmers. As a global food system, we need to change what we’re asking to be grown before farmers can change how they grow it. It’s time to embrace the true opportunity and promise of supply chain sustainability, which requires companies to take a deep look at their own business models and what they ask farmers to grow.
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Food companies have made headlines with their regenerative agriculture commitments, pledging to have 100% of their farmers practicing regenerative agriculture by 2030, or 2050, or some other date that isn’t today. Regenerative agriculture as currently practiced by food companies ignores two essential truths:
You cannot change anyone but yourself.
You can’t ask for the same thing and expect different results.
Let’s break this down.
Change is notoriously difficult for people. If a company pledges to change a certain number of farmers to adopt new practices, what this means is changing people. Every single farmer is a person operating a business. I’ve yet to encounter an advice blogger who thinks changing your boyfriend (or girlfriend!) is a great idea. Even if successful, changing one mind at a time is hard, grueling work, and not something we have time to do.
Asking for the same “what,” while also asking farmers to change “how,” cuts to the core of why these regenerative agriculture commitments ring hollow. Most global food companies have built their brands on consistency: a bag of corn chips, those perfectly uniform french fries, and that cup of coffee taste exactly the same whether the customer is in Europe, the Americas, Asia, or anywhere else in the world (the notable exception to this global-consistency rule is the fact that I can buy Mexican Coca-Cola at the grocery store in Idaho).
This consistency comes from using the same, few varieties of crops. That 100% Arabica coffee means one kind of coffee bean, which may not grow well everywhere. Corn and potatoes are the same way: many different varieties are available, and variety is the key to sustainability. Coffee aficionados have been debating the merits of “arabica versus robusta” for years. People have wide differences of opinion on flavor, but one thing that most people can agree on is that arabica is more expensive because of the requirements to grow it, and robusta is better able to withstand plant diseases (translation: robusta typically needs fewer pesticides and is less picky about growing conditions).
Since I know potatoes best (I did mention Idaho), let’s compare potato varieties to something most people know well: dog breeds. If we say that a russet potato (brown skin, white flesh) is a retriever, and a purple potato (purple skin, purple flesh) is a dachshund, we can all agree that the russet and the purple are both potatoes and that the retriever and the dachshund are both dogs. Within the dogs we call retrievers, there are several different varieties: Chesapeake Bay, Labrador, and golden are a few. Similarly, dachshunds can come in long-haired, smooth, or miniature varieties, but they are all still dachshunds.
Every time you purchase a fresh bag of russet potatoes at the grocery store, you’re getting the potato variety that has survived best to that time of the year in storage. The brown skinned, white-fleshed potato might be a russet shepody, russet norkota, russet ranger, or the famous russet Burbank. At different times of the year, you perceive the potato sack you lug home as a bag of russets, and you don’t distinguish among the varieties. To a farmer or someone in the food business, these are not the same at all. It would be like looking at a Chesapeake Bay retriever and a golden retriever and saying that both of these dogs are water retrievers and excellent swimmers, so they are the same. Just as a golden and a Chessie have different personality types, fielding tendencies, potential medical issues, and grooming needs, russet potato varieties have different in-field needs for water, disease and pest management, and fertilizer.
To maintain consistency in product flavor, food companies limit the number of varieties of a crop they will accept. Some companies accept a very small handful of varieties of potato, for example, to maintain that consistency. In other words, companies aren’t buying retrievers, they’re like a person devoted exclusively to golden retrievers. Even if they know that dog is coming in from the field full of burrs that will take 2 hours to brush out, they’re not going to get a Chessie or a Lab puppy the next time, because they’ve bought into the idea that a golden retriever is the best and only dog for them. Similarly, global companies have built their brands around one or two iconic varieties and are understandably hesitant to mess with a business approach that is intrinsic to their offering.
So, where does that leave us?
Companies are asking for the same small handful of crop varieties to be grown.
Farmers can’t deliver those crops and reduce fertilizer or pesticide use at the same time, because the varieties the market demands may not grow well under site-specific climate and plant disease pressures.
Whether a consumer can tell the difference between varieties when ripping open a bag of chips on different continents is an open question.
Climate change is exacerbating growing conditions worldwide, which may make some varieties undependable or entirely obsolete.
Farmers are people. In business. If you pay them to grow a different crop that they could make more margin on, they’ll do it, no education or onboarding necessary. To make food supply chains more robust and resilient, companies need to change markets, not farmers.
The core issue is this: when you point a finger at someone, three fingers are pointing back at you. Pointing a finger at farmers, while not looking clearly at your own business model, dooms supply chain sustainability to failure.
Once, I was out standing in a field with a potato farmer and a food company sustainability team member. The food company sustainability person asked the farmer what their company could do to help the farmer be more sustainable, thinking that perhaps there was some kind of financial support needed, or access to educational resources.
“Quit asking me to grow russet Burbank,” was the farmer’s swift reply.
The brilliance and promise of supply chain sustainability isn’t to be found in changing your suppliers’ minds one at a time. It’s not waiting to be discovered in the perfect reporting software or through providing training in carbon accounting. Global companies do have a huge influence on suppliers and amazing opportunities to support rural communities with meaningful, market-based and nature-positive programs that help people and the environment. Many companies do exactly that, and there is nothing wrong with embracing better ways to grow crops and foster communities. To fully realize the promise of supply chain transformation, the company needs to reach a bit deeper. This isn’t radical change, such as switching from white to purple potatoes in french fries. It’s looking at better varieties to make white potato fries. It’s being open to the idea that maybe growing the exact same variety of coffee in every location in the name of a brand isn’t the best idea.
Taking this approach enables adoption of regenerative agriculture practices, because growing better-adapted varieties means fewer inputs and crop protection. This enables more resilient supply chains and consistent and assured supply, because more varieties of crops in development give the food system more options as the climate changes. This isn’t just a sustainability play, but a broader business continuity play.
With apologies to John F. Kennedy, companies should not ask what their suppliers can do for them, but instead ask what they can do for their suppliers. At the same time, the business will be doing well by its own future, too.
