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The
Soul of Organics
THE
SOUL OF ORGANICS
By Camille
Sears
The first
few months of each year are busy times at our orchard. Although
this season is relatively dark, cool, and wet, I can't take
advantage of this perfect excuse for slowing down and neglecting
farm work. There are fruit trees to prune, clippings to grind,
cover crops to sow, tangerines to pick, and the weeding, which
never ends. This is also the time for renewing our annual
organic certification.
And each
year I reconsider, sometimes for days, and reflect on why
I continue being certified organic. I wonder: Does organic
status adequately characterize my reasons for farming? Does
it convey anything other than that I can jump through a series
of hoops to demonstrate compliance with the National Organic
Program? Am I content being included under the widening umbrella
called organic?
These
aren't easy questions to answer. Most organic growers choose
to be certified so they can distinguish their produce from
nonorganic crops. In fact, for all but the very smallest growers,
the National Organic Program (NOP) requires that one must
be certified in order to call your produce organic. While
this ensures that certified growers meet the minimum NOP standards,
it doesn't tell us anything about the specifics of how the
product is grown. To a consumer, and to the USDA, every product
carrying the "USDA" Organic sticker is equivalent.
Differentiation within the organic definition is not allowed.
With the
NOP, organic produce has entered the mainstream: Supermarkets
now routinely carry it; chains of specialty stores have diverse
assortments of organic items; huge food companies have become
major players in the game. To work within the NOP, our organic
certifier, California Certified Organic Farmers, transitioned
into CCOF Certification Services, Limited Liability Corporation;
I must sign a contract that binds me to farm the coming year
in accordance with specs agreed to in an Organic System Plan.
To be
sure, reducing pesticide use, caring for soil, and increasing
the supply of organic products are wonderful directions to
be heading. The more organic growers the better, I think.
But still, there's an aspect of organic agriculture that is
being pushed aside by the stampede towards greater market
share. Sadly, there is no component of the organic definition
that conveys how the growing of our food is essentially a
sacred act, knotted with all the life forces that surround
us. This "soul of organics" is what brought many
to farming in the first place. Reluctantly, many growers become
certified, even though organics is seen as the marketing label
it has become.
I am a
novice farmer. Although our orchards have been certified organic
since 1997, it doesn't mean that I'm proficient yet at farming
- I learn something new each day, and this process can never
end. For this reason, I am usually surprised when someone
asks me a question about growing. Checking first to see if
they are instead talking to someone behind me, I can only
tell them what works for me and what doesn't. More and more,
I come to realize that I am on the right path when I can visualize
the web in which our farm is entwined. Land, air, water, sunlight,
celestial influences, plants, animals, people, place, and
community are all strands in this mesh. And I am most lost
when I forget that everything we have is a gift to be nurtured,
not harmed or exploited.
But is
it possible for a sanctioned farming practice to recognize
these elements? While obviously present, they are difficult
to quantify and regulate. I think that Biodynamics, a farming
system described by Rudolph Steiner over 80 years ago, best
integrates the sacred aspects of agriculture. (His lectures
on this subject are called Spiritual Foundations for the Renewal
of Agriculture). In essence, Biodynamics attempts to heal
the agricultural wounds already inflicted by man, a task the
mainstream organics campaign chooses to sidestep. Biodynamics
applies the benefits of a conscientious organic program, adds
techniques to revitalize the land and crops, and treats the
farm as a living entity, which it is. It is often seen as
an extension of organics; perhaps more correctly, organics
is a less stringent subset of Biodynamics.
My original
intent was to pursue Biodynamic certification; however, this
requires skills and resources that I do not yet possess. I
defaulted to organic, but the idea of converting our farm
to certified Biodynamic is still there. This is not an unusual
situation. Although the public would have little reason to
know it, many organic growers also study and experiment with
Biodynamics. Yes, it does employ seemingly unorthodox methods,
but Biodynamics is far from being an obscure farming practice.
And as more farmers realize that the sense of spirituality
is being stripped from organics, many will inevitably turn
solely to Biodynamics, develop a new model, or abandon certification
altogether.
About
seven years ago, a group of Santa Barbara and Ventura County
farmers met to discuss this issue, as well as possible alternatives
to the impending national regulation of the term organic.
These meetings turned to the concept of a type of community
certification, where the grower's reputation and openness
about his or her farming methods are all that are needed in
the marketplace. As a neophyte I sat on the sideline absorbing
what I could, but what became clear to me was that a key aspect
of organics was about to be lost. This was the fundamental
question: If the term organic fails to describe your inspiration
to farm, then what will? With the NOP now in place, many growers
feel that the true essence of organics has been taken from
them.
The concept
of community certification is still out there, despite the
complications imposed by the NOP forbidding the use of synonyms
to describe an otherwise organic farming system. In an ideal
system where local markets prevail, community-certified could
replace the consumer relationship to the crop with a relationship
with the grower. It is important to contemplate this paradigm
shift. When most of us buy organic produce, we do not know
how it is grown. Of course, if it is certified organic we
can be confident that the product is free from grower-applied
biocide residue. But beyond meeting NOP minimum requirements,
what do we really know about the actual growing conditions?
Unless we are familiar with the grower, and how he or she
farms, there are a lot of unknowns even with organic produce.
A relationship
with the grower, through community-supported agriculture,
local markets, and farm visits, is another component to the
soul of organics. This bond between spirituality, the community,
and agriculture was a theme often voiced by Peter Maurin,
who with Dorothy Day began the Catholic Worker Movement. Dorothy
Day wrote: "Cultivation completes the synthesis of cult,
culture, and cultivation which Peter Maurin talked of so much."
And from
Peter Maurin: "It is in fact impossible for any culture
to be sound and healthy without a proper regard for the soil."
Think about this the next time a mall paves over acres of
irreplaceable Class I soil. Think about this the next time
you see thousands of acres in the Oxnard Plain covered in
tarps, part of the sterilization process meant to kill everything
in the soil before planting strawberries. Sadly, this immoral
disregard for the life of the soil is all too commonplace.
We need to change our secular view of the soil; we need to
remember (and not just on Ash Wednesday) what we are made
of and where we are destined to return.
Loving
the land is not a sacrifice; we always benefit. Our vitality
is linked to the foods we eat, which of course depend on soil.
It doesn't take much reasoning to understand that living soils
are needed for our health, well-being, and sense of place.
And as for crop quality, the true expression of terroir can
only be achieved if the farm is alive and open to all the
physical components and forces available at a particular site.
Wine-grape growers are increasingly turning to organics and
Biodynamics in recognition of this cause and effect.
But perhaps
the most valuable aspect of farming is not the crop - it is
the connection to the land and to a right relationship with
everything around us. Organics and Biodynamics serve to slow
us down; we become more aware of the rhythms and cycles that
are everywhere. The seasons, the analemma, tides, and atmospheric
nitrogen uptake by plants are some of the most obvious examples,
but there are countless others. Jean Giono wrote extensively
about these interrelated patterns of nature, and his book,
The Song of the World, is perfectly titled. Any farming practice
that distracts us from these universal hymns is, in the end,
unsustainable.
And in
caring for a plot of land, something unforeseen is always
given in return. Through bitter experience, I have found that
tedious, simple work can ease some of the deepest troubles.
In distressful hours, I instinctively head for the soil, bringing
with me a short spade and weeder. The small tools are essential
- their use requires that I am kneeling or sitting, in constant
contact with the earth. Being connected with living soil becomes
my nepenthe, and at some point in time my mind drifts away
from alienation, towards a welcome sense of peace. It is in
such silent and thankful moments that I am most open to what
the Cistercians call "the beating of the heart of God."
These brief instances of grace are filled with the comforting
awareness of being loved, which is the only true source of
hopefulness, of espérance.
How can
NOP organic certification embrace this communion with creation?
It cannot, and that's not its intended purpose. Nevertheless,
I feel lost in a national program whose soul is as unfeeling
as the USDA Organic label we are now required to use. And
there are few meaningful alternatives. With a deep breath
of uncertainty I once again sign the yearly Organic System
Plan contract, send in my fees, and go to find a consoling
patch of ground, weeding tools in hand.
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