To start off with, I will define the term “locavore”. A locavore is intent on purchasing only (or as much as possible) locally produced food believing that minimizing food-miles (the distance food has to travel to your table) will in turn reduce energy consumption and save the planet. This belief has caught on in eco-conscious circles as well as in places like Europe, where country of origin labeling is increasingly popular on food. Though food-miles and the locavore mantra are simple to follow and seemingly a Geico caveman proof way of communicating the eco-merit of different food choices, these beliefs are seriously flawed both by practical standards and in their effectiveness. A number of recent popular and scientific articles have highlighted the complex interactions and secondary effects of eating local.
James McWilliams wrote two of the articles that caught my attention this week. In both articles (one published this week in Forbes and the other a year ago in the NYTimes) Mr. McWilliams disproves what he calls the “Locavore myth”. Practically, eating only food produced locally (perhaps in a 100 mile radius of your home) is near impossible. Unless, of course, you don’t mind forgoing fresh produce for the winter and enjoying only select fruits and vegetables that can grow in your local climate. A fully local diet may also mean forgoing a balanced diet. Mr. McWilliams also points out the difficulty (and political impossibility) of relocating people to areas fertile enough to provide local food year round (this would probably mean eliminating cities such as Phoenix and Las Vegas), as some may argue we need to do. Another problem with eating local (if we agree that people have the right to live wherever they please), is that producing food in some parts of the world requires more energy intensive inputs than food produced in another location.
A study found that imported New Zealand lamb required less energy to produce than local British lamb
Consider a 2006 study from Lincoln University in New Zealand, which found that a London shopper has less of an environmental impact by consuming lamb shipped from New Zealand than purchasing lamb raised in the UK. It turns out that New Zealand lambs enjoy plentiful pastures and travel by barge (which is one of the most energy efficient modes of transportation). In contrast, British lambs need feed to supplement the less plentiful greenery in the region thus emitting four times more carbon dioxide than their New Zealand counterparts during production. Unlike locavores, the New Zealand researchers quantify every input in the production of the final product, lamb. This approach gives us a complete picture of the environmental impact of a given food choice, which locavores miss in their obsession over food-miles.
In short, there is no closing Pandora’s box. Now that we have become accustomed to fresh produce year round, know the health benefits of eating a well-balanced diet, and we have the technology to move food from more productive regions of the world to the less fertile ones, there is no turning back. In fact, as the New Zealand study and many others have proven, the environment may actually benefit from importing food versus producing it locally in some cases. So what’s a locavore to do?
In all of the confusing nutritional and environmental advice, one idea, above all, seems to be emphatically repeated: EAT LOCAL! The appeal of eating local lies in the simplicity of its mandate and its promise of undeniable environmental benefits. Because of its simplicity, food-miles make an excellent metric for communicating the environmental impact of food to busy consumers. In creating a new environmental metric for food, this simplicity should be preserved.
There are plans to label foods with bar codes or websites where the consumer can access environmental information about their food. Though this effort would help consumers understand the complicated web of resource and energy inputs in their meal, I’m afraid consumers will not have a sense of scale for understanding the information given and will not have the time (or interest) to look up the available information. Let’s face it, we usually go to the grocery store with far too little time to scan all of the salad green options and weigh each variable before purchasing.
Instead of measuring food miles, McWilliams suggests a compounded variable including all of the environmental effects of producing a food calculated from a full life cycle analysis. A compounded variable may pose some difficulties particularly in the analysis and expertise that would go into calculating the “food score”. Perhaps, another useful and simpler metric would be to calculate the energy consumed or greenhouse gas emissions (in CO2 equivalents) resultant from the production of a given food. Energy is an important metric because it quantifies the overall effort necessary to produce the food and thus would account for the energy for irrigation, agricultural chemical production, processing and transportation all of which have important environmental impacts. Likewise, greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions from the production of a given food product accounts for energy consumption and other environmental disturbances of food. It would include emissions of potent GHGs from manure decomposition and nitrogen fertilizer application. Thus, the greater climate impact of non-fuel inputs of some products will be reflected in the food metric.
Whichever metric we chose to employ, we must also inform ourselves and the public as to the significance of the value. In January Tropicana reported that 3.75 lbs of CO2 equivalent are emitted in the production of a half-gallon carton of their orange juice. This is a fantastic conclusion except… that I have no idea what it means and neither did the NYTimes reporter that wrote about the result. To avoid confusion in the public, any metric reported on food should be scaled to a daily allowance to meet yearly CO2 emission targets, much like the percentage shown on nutrition labels. This seems simple enough, but is a crucial detail in getting the general public to understand and use food metrics.
Bottom Line: If locavores and the rest of us want to make better food decisions for ourselves and the environment we need to take a close look at the total impacts of producing food and define the variables that we consider most important. At a time when consumers are reeling from low-fat, low-carb and low-food mile advice any new eco-indicator for food needs to be concise and easily understood so that it doesn’t become just another nutritional fact on the label.
Our aim in this blog is to provide critique and commentary on world energy news in an effort to clarify the issues and allow the reader to reach an informed decision on energy issues.
What’s a Locavore to do?
Eat local Lucy
To start off with, I will define the term “locavore”. A locavore is intent on purchasing only (or as much as possible) locally produced food believing that minimizing food-miles (the distance food has to travel to your table) will in turn reduce energy consumption and save the planet. This belief has caught on in eco-conscious circles as well as in places like Europe, where country of origin labeling is increasingly popular on food. Though food-miles and the locavore mantra are simple to follow and seemingly a Geico caveman proof way of communicating the eco-merit of different food choices, these beliefs are seriously flawed both by practical standards and in their effectiveness. A number of recent popular and scientific articles have highlighted the complex interactions and secondary effects of eating local.
James McWilliams wrote two of the articles that caught my attention this week. In both articles (one published this week in Forbes and the other a year ago in the NYTimes) Mr. McWilliams disproves what he calls the “Locavore myth”. Practically, eating only food produced locally (perhaps in a 100 mile radius of your home) is near impossible. Unless, of course, you don’t mind forgoing fresh produce for the winter and enjoying only select fruits and vegetables that can grow in your local climate. A fully local diet may also mean forgoing a balanced diet. Mr. McWilliams also points out the difficulty (and political impossibility) of relocating people to areas fertile enough to provide local food year round (this would probably mean eliminating cities such as Phoenix and Las Vegas), as some may argue we need to do. Another problem with eating local (if we agree that people have the right to live wherever they please), is that producing food in some parts of the world requires more energy intensive inputs than food produced in another location.
A study found that imported New Zealand lamb required less energy to produce than local British lamb
Consider a 2006 study from Lincoln University in New Zealand, which found that a London shopper has less of an environmental impact by consuming lamb shipped from New Zealand than purchasing lamb raised in the UK. It turns out that New Zealand lambs enjoy plentiful pastures and travel by barge (which is one of the most energy efficient modes of transportation). In contrast, British lambs need feed to supplement the less plentiful greenery in the region thus emitting four times more carbon dioxide than their New Zealand counterparts during production. Unlike locavores, the New Zealand researchers quantify every input in the production of the final product, lamb. This approach gives us a complete picture of the environmental impact of a given food choice, which locavores miss in their obsession over food-miles.
In short, there is no closing Pandora’s box. Now that we have become accustomed to fresh produce year round, know the health benefits of eating a well-balanced diet, and we have the technology to move food from more productive regions of the world to the less fertile ones, there is no turning back. In fact, as the New Zealand study and many others have proven, the environment may actually benefit from importing food versus producing it locally in some cases. So what’s a locavore to do?
In all of the confusing nutritional and environmental advice, one idea, above all, seems to be emphatically repeated: EAT LOCAL! The appeal of eating local lies in the simplicity of its mandate and its promise of undeniable environmental benefits. Because of its simplicity, food-miles make an excellent metric for communicating the environmental impact of food to busy consumers. In creating a new environmental metric for food, this simplicity should be preserved.
There are plans to label foods with bar codes or websites where the consumer can access environmental information about their food. Though this effort would help consumers understand the complicated web of resource and energy inputs in their meal, I’m afraid consumers will not have a sense of scale for understanding the information given and will not have the time (or interest) to look up the available information. Let’s face it, we usually go to the grocery store with far too little time to scan all of the salad green options and weigh each variable before purchasing.
Instead of measuring food miles, McWilliams suggests a compounded variable including all of the environmental effects of producing a food calculated from a full life cycle analysis. A compounded variable may pose some difficulties particularly in the analysis and expertise that would go into calculating the “food score”. Perhaps, another useful and simpler metric would be to calculate the energy consumed or greenhouse gas emissions (in CO2 equivalents) resultant from the production of a given food. Energy is an important metric because it quantifies the overall effort necessary to produce the food and thus would account for the energy for irrigation, agricultural chemical production, processing and transportation all of which have important environmental impacts. Likewise, greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions from the production of a given food product accounts for energy consumption and other environmental disturbances of food. It would include emissions of potent GHGs from manure decomposition and nitrogen fertilizer application. Thus, the greater climate impact of non-fuel inputs of some products will be reflected in the food metric.
Whichever metric we chose to employ, we must also inform ourselves and the public as to the significance of the value. In January Tropicana reported that 3.75 lbs of CO2 equivalent are emitted in the production of a half-gallon carton of their orange juice. This is a fantastic conclusion except… that I have no idea what it means and neither did the NYTimes reporter that wrote about the result. To avoid confusion in the public, any metric reported on food should be scaled to a daily allowance to meet yearly CO2 emission targets, much like the percentage shown on nutrition labels. This seems simple enough, but is a crucial detail in getting the general public to understand and use food metrics.
Bottom Line: If locavores and the rest of us want to make better food decisions for ourselves and the environment we need to take a close look at the total impacts of producing food and define the variables that we consider most important. At a time when consumers are reeling from low-fat, low-carb and low-food mile advice any new eco-indicator for food needs to be concise and easily understood so that it doesn’t become just another nutritional fact on the label.