The Future of Sustainable Protein is… Complicated

Here is a piece variation of a piece I wrote for the Center for International Policy Studies blog, originally published in the University of Ottawa Gazette here. 

“The Paleoketoveganmacrofasting Diet: Stop the Madness!!!” This was the amusing title of a recent presentation by Dr. Shawn Arent, a kinesiology professor at Rutgers University. The talk was aimed at personal trainers. But for the rest of us, the title hints at the madness of all the emerging (conflicting) dietary practices (and increasingly, institutional policies) surrounding the provision of protein that appear to be gaining credence in North America. This highlights the various beliefs about what does or does not qualify as a “healthy,” “ethical,” or “sustainable” food.

If present trends are any measure, this madness is likely to continue. A wide range of forces are working in the background to profoundly reshape the global agri-food sector. The world’s population is growing at a tremendous pace, with more than 200,000 additional mouths to feed on the planet every day. Experts therefore expect a struggle in meeting the future demand for nutritious food. At the same time, hundreds of millions of people are being lifted out of extreme poverty. Along with these rising incomes globally, the demand for meat — one of the traditional foods through which humans acquire protein — has grown significantly, putting additional pressure on land and resources.

A related problem pertains to the trends of degradation and/or overuse of water, soil, and forests, as conventional agricultural practices — heavily relianton fossil fuels, synthetic fertilizers, pesticides, and other inputs — strain Earth’s natural areas and biodiversity. Heightened ethical awareness about the treatment of animals in conventional agriculture is also fueling dietary and culinary change. This gives rise to everything from “organic,” “grass-fed,” “free-range,” and/or “hormone and antibiotic-free” meat to “plant-based meat,” and everything in between.

Meanwhile, advances in technology — from genetic engineering to lab-grown cultures — are redefining possibilities in food production and simultaneously destabilizing agri-food markets. Increasing (and competing) concerns about the nutritional profile of carbohydrates and fats are also reshaping dietary advice about what protein sources should be avoided or included in a healthy diet. (Plant and animal sourced proteins typically feature different nutritional profiles in terms of what macronutrients come along with them.)  On top of all this, there’s the existential threat of climate change, which is wreaking havoc on food production.

Admittedly it’s a lot to take-in, even for those who study this for a living. Yet as complex as it all may be, there is a strong case for embracing this complexity when crafting policy for the agri-food sector or institutional dietary policies. Why? While it’s certainly important to have clear and cogent policies that are easy to follow, there’s a risk that oversimplifications in policy will be unable to account for the different life circumstances and experiences of citizens, consumers, and employees in different geographical contexts.

Here’s an example: There’s been a lot of talk lately about instituting bans on meat at various public institutions and private businesses. Policy proposals of this sort have been informed by meta-data studies that compare the environmental footprints of common protein sources, such as one recent high-profile study in Science. One of this study’s co-authors was recently asked about the key “take-away” of his research. His response was that “avoiding meat and dairy products is the single biggest way to reduce your environmental impact on the planet.” While on the surface this seems logical considering global-scale data comparisons, it’s not hard to see that this universal advice paints a monolithic picture of the typical food consumer.

The advice may indeed be accurate, but it also may be way off. It really depends on the specific context of various consumers does it not? For instance, if you’re a jet-setting frequent flyer; or if you hunt or produce most of your own food; or if you only infrequently indulge in meat and dairy (and support local sustainable producers while you’re at it); or if you derive most of your protein from intensively farmed soy; etc., etc., — then there may be more effective ways to reduce your environmental footprint. Further, there could be instances where completely banning meat and dairy would work against local sustainability objectives. Or against the dietary needs of people with chronic intestinal or nutritional issues.

The above example pertains to the environmental impact of different protein sources, but similarly sweeping claims and counterclaims have been made about the ethical and health merits of avoiding some foods over others. There’s lots of expert advice out there and it’s bound to grow both in volume and scope. But as we attempt to convert information into sustainable policy for protein provision, we ought to keep in mind the specific dynamics and local complexities that shape regional agri-food contexts. It’s just (complex) common sense!

Tax carbon, not meat, to reduce agricultural emissions

The following post of mine was originally published on Policy Options/Options Politiques on January 25th, 2017. Click here to see the original, with embedded reference links.

A meat tax would unfairly punish responsible farmers and would not get to the root of the emissions problem – fossil fuels.

The idea of applying a tax on meat has recently received a lot of attention, both in Canada and internationally. However, the leading proponents of taxing meat make some big assumptions about all meat being “bad” for the climate. By digging into the complexities of livestock production, we can find plenty of reasons why a general tax on meat could in fact yield the opposite of the intended climate change mitigation. A much more appropriate and equitable way to confront greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions in the agricultural sector is to tax carbon: specifically, carbon equivalents from fossil fuels used for transportation and production.

As anyone who has tasted local, organic, grass-fed beef knows, there is a world of difference between that and the kind of beef you might find at a fast food joint. Just about everything about these two types of meat is different, including the price (the organic beef will likely be more expensive), the taste (although we can never say definitively which tastes “better” since taste is subjective), the nutritional value (the evidence says grass-fed beef is healthier) and the economic impact (the locally produced meat recirculates more cash back into the regional economy). Even the feeling you get after eating organic beef is different, relating to the overall quality, probable portion size and the sense that you are not consuming food laden with hormones, antibiotics and a large environmental footprint.

These differences stem from the wide variety of ways in which livestock are managed. The differences between industrial, “extensive” and “agro-ecological” practices are immense. In contrast to intensive industrial farms, extensive systems use fewer resources and have a smaller yield relative to the amount of land used. The farming area can be much larger than that used for industrial farms. Agro-ecological systems take an ecosystemic view of agricultural landscapes, and thereby strive for a level of management intensity which reproduces natural processes such as nutrient cycling, population regulation and energy flows.

These different livestock management practices are exemplified in what the animals are typically fed. The industrial model typically uses monocropped grains produced off-site as a primary feed, while extensive and agro-ecological models typically use diverse vegetation that grows on-site (and, in the case of pigs and chickens, live insects and waste diverted from human food streams). Another key difference is scale. Industrial models aim to maximize output by cramming animals into concentrated animal feeding operations, while at the other extreme, extensive systems typically feature a very low ratio of animals per area of land. Meanwhile, agro-ecological methods strive to mimic the size of population an environment would naturally sustain, as well as the land use patterns of ruminants (like cows and sheep) and monogastrics (like pigs and chickens), based on the specific geographical profile of each farm.


Differences like these, in turn, play a big role in determining how much methane (CH4), nitrous oxide (N2O) and carbon dioxide (CO2) is emitted from a farm. Globally, the current practices in livestock production do produce a considerable amount of GHGs (about 14.5 percent of global emissions, compared with 5 percent of Canada’s emissions), but that figure is arrived at by adding up all the carbon dioxide from tilling animal feed crops (required for industrial livestock), burning down rainforests to expand pastures and production of soy (which will be fed to industrial livestock) and energy-intensive post-farm processing and transport. It also includes all the nitrous oxide emitted from manure storage and the application of fertilizers used to produce grains, which are then fed to industrially managed livestock; and not least, all the methane emitted in the process of livestock digestion and manure management. It’s important to keep tabs on this output of GHGs related to livestock, but there are many reasons why it’s deeply problematic to assume that a demand-side tax on meat will result in significant climatic improvements.

The first reason is that nearly half of all GHG emissions attributed to livestock come from the production, fertilization and processing of livestock feed, as well as post-farm transport — not directly from the animals themselves (or their by-products). This is an important distinction because these emissions would continue to occur if this agricultural production were diverted toward human foods rather than livestock feed — the eventual result, presumably, of a tax on meat.

A second reason relates to all the GHG emissions that are not presently attributed to the livestock sector, but that occur indirectly as part of the broader production chain for industrial livestock: things like the manufacture and long-distance transport of fertilizers, herbicides and pharmaceuticals. For the most part, these fossil-fuel-based emissions are recorded under other sectors like manufacturing, transportation or energy. As Simon Fairlie points out, industrial livestock systems are the main culprits at many of these indirect emissions points, demanding refrigeration, heating, shipping, processing, the extraction of fossil methane (or even coal) as feedstocks for ammonia (the primary input in synthetic fertilizer) and so on. In contrast, the aim of agro-ecological farming is to use natural in situ inputs in regional economies, which significantly cuts down on the need for all these fossil-fuel-dependent industrial inputs.

This leads to a third key point, which is that direct GHG emissions from animals, known as “biospheric emissions,” are qualitatively different from GHGs coming from fossil fuels, and in some ways they are less damaging for the climate. For instance, animals breathe out CO2 all the time, but clearly this is of little concern to the planet (or scientists), since the amount emitted in respiration is just about equivalent to the amount that was only very recently removed from the atmosphere by the plants eaten by those animals. In contrast, CO2 emitted from the combustion of fossil fuels is a serious problem for the global carbon cycle, because it is taking carbon that has been sequestered, or stored, in the earth for hundreds of millions of years and suddenly putting it up into the atmosphere.

This temporal difference between biospheric and fossil-fuel emissions can also be seen in methane and nitrous oxide. Methane can be emitted naturally by domesticated and wild ruminants (such as cows, deer, elk, moose, goats, sheep and bison), wetlands, rice paddies and termites; but it can also be emitted unwittingly by an oil drilling operation, or burned up in a heating furnace. In the case of fossil methane, the embedded carbon is, again, transferred to the atmosphere after being sequestered in the Earth’s crust since long before humans existed. Emissions of nitrous oxide operate in a similar way. Animal urine and dung contains ammonia (NH3), which plays an essential role as a natural fertilizer thanks to its nitrogen content. However, it releases N20 into the atmosphere. The rate of release is about the same for synthetic fertilizers, but the key difference is that synthetic fertilizers have to be externally manufactured in an energy-intensive process that relies on hydrocarbons as a feedstock, and have further been shown to degrade agricultural soils. In short, the biospheric exchange of carbon and nitrogen between soil, animal and atmosphere takes part within natural surface-level cycles, while GHGs from fossil fuels are a synthetic disturbance to those cycles.

Biospheric emissions can indeed become a problem when the size of the global herd outstrips the natural environment’s capacity to recycle those emissions. The trick is determining an appropriate size limit for the herd. We know that the climate can sustain a large number of ruminants; there were 30 to 60 million methane-belching and ammonia-excreting bison and 100 million small antelope in the Great Plains before industrialization (as a weak comparison, there are currently about 104 million cattle in the US and Canada combined). The crucial need is to offset the animals’ biospheric emissions by feeding them natural plants that grow in their environment, which serves to store carbon in the soil. In typical pastures the amount of carbon sequestered in the soil is often equivalent to half (or less) of the amount emitted above ground, but other agro-ecological settings (such as silvopastoral operations which combine livestock grazing with forestry) can store more than they emit, leading many experts (including even the Food and Agricultural Organization) to claim that the livestock sector could play a significant role in climate change mitigation efforts.

Although we are still learning about the intricate interplay between biospheric emissions and the climate, there is enough evidence to question the global herd’s impact on atmospheric methane and nitrous oxide. For instance, a study by the Food and Agricultural Organization and the International Atomic Energy Agency found that while the global herd grew in the 1990s, global methane concentrations levelled off at the same time. The report concluded, “The role of ruminants in greenhouse gases may be less significant than originally thought, with other sources and sinks playing a larger role in global methane accounting.” Finally, while the global livestock herd has indeed grown substantially since the 1970s, in OECD nations the number of cattle, sheep, and goats has declined (while the number of pigs has grown). In other words, the demand trend for ruminant meat in industrialized countries — where the meat tax is usually proposed — is already on the decline.

Theoretically, taxing meat in the developing world and Asia would work to stem growth in the global herd, but this approach raises issues of equity, particularly between small farmers and large industrial producers, not to mention its unwelcome tinge of colonialism. If indeed the global herd has surpassed the climate’s natural threshold for biospheric emissions, then there could be other ways to reduce the herd besides taxing meat, ways that do not adversely affect extensive and agro-ecological farmers. These could include regulations, such as quotas, or market mechanisms such as incentives for sustainable producers, or educational campaigns expounding the benefits of eating less meat — and local, organic meat at that!

There are indeed good reasons to reduce meat consumption overall (particularly in North America) — but applying a tax on meat is not the right way to accomplish that goal, in part because it’s not just meat that North Americans overconsume, and in part because it’s not just livestock production that is environmentally damaging.

While less meat might be consumed overall as a result of a meat tax, the meat people continue consuming would likely be environmentally damaging industrial meat, not meat produced in an agro-ecological context. A tax on meat unfairly punishes the small farmers who are trying to practise restorative agriculture by continuing to force them to compete toe-to-toe with large-scale industrial producers whose environmental footprint is only partly accounted for. More important, it fails to get to the root of the climate problem, which is the emission of GHGs from fossil fuels. Some provinces have opted for a tax on carbon-emitting fossil fuels. This policy will help us to reduce the emissions from agriculture that are of greatest concern to the climate, while providing agro-ecological farmers a more level playing field on which to compete with the big polluters.

Eat Less (But Better) Meat to Reduce Earth's Heat!

Here is a re-post of my piece on Rabble.ca today [see original for links]:

Don't give up meat if you want to save the planet, eat less and better

In a recent treatise David Suzuki claims that "the environment and climate would benefit substantially if more people gave up or at least cut down on meat and animal products." But he also admits that the issue is "complicated," since different methods of raising livestock have different ecological impacts, and further because animal consumption and agriculture provide widespread benefits to our society. Suzuki doesn't really get into the details of the "complicated" part, instead highlighting some global figures relating to greenhouse gas emissions (GHG) from an undifferentiated "livestock" sector, so arguably some "complication" is in order.

Why complicate things? For one, because messaging is important. If you tell North Americans (the majority of whom -- as Suzuki notes -- are overconsuming carnivores) that they have to stop eating meat to do their part for the climate, the typical response is to shut off and ignore (hence some of the boneheaded tweets we saw in response to Suzuki's post). If you suggest that they eat less meat without clarifying what types of agricultural practices they should be supporting in the livestock sector, then they could use this advice to merely reduce their consumption of what is still a polluting product -- factory farmed meat, which pollutes both air and water, depletes the Earth's soils, leads to biodiversity loss and mistreats animals.

For this reason it seems logical to add an addendum to Suzuki's message -- eat less (but better) meat to reduce Earth's heat. The adage "less, but better," originally coined by German designer Dieter Rams, is popular in the worlds of product design and architecture, but the basic premise can be applied to North American meat consumption practices.

What is "better" meat? Better meat is ecologically raised meat, produced within a regenerative land use system in which animals are managed in balance with the natural systems surrounding them. Certified organic, certified biodynamic, 100 per cent grass-fed, and certified naturally grown (in the U.S.) are examples of verification programs guaranteeing ecological practices.

In the case of ruminants like cows, sheep and goats, this means shifting away from grain-feeding towards grass-based production, where carefully managing grassland ecosystems helps sequester carbon while providing pollinator, bird and other wildlife habitat. For pigs and poultry, this can mean utilizing feedstuffs diverted from human food waste streams, utilizing forages and woodlands as a portion of their diets and feeding grains that can be produced locally and ecologically.

Better meat also means humanely raised meat, which includes providing access to the outdoors, ample space to move and interact with others of their species, and low-stress handling and processing. Locally produced meat is better because it supports the regional economy and requires far less transportation to get it from farm to plate.

Yet there's another reason to complicate things: Focusing solely on the net climatic impacts of global meat production has the effect of unfairly situating the blame on livestock rather than the current way humans primarily produce and consume livestock. The policy implications of this nuance are huge -- it means the difference between calling for the elimination of "animal agriculture" writ large, or calling for major changes in our consumption habits and production methods.

Both of these interpretations seek drastic changes to the world as we know it, yet while the former one advocates the total elimination of a practice which has been a central feature of almost all sedentary societies since their very origins, the latter calls for its restoration (and 're-solarization," as Michael Pollan calls it).

If you are going to brand "animal agriculture" as a leading culprit in causing climate change and global injustice (as the film Cowspiracy, which Suzuki references, does), you had better be sure that eliminating animal agriculture would result in widespread improvements to the climate system and global justice. Yet as experts like Simon Fairlie, former editor of The Ecologist (and former vegetarian) point out, there are plenty of reasons why eliminating animal agriculture is not the panacea solution it purports to be.

First, one has to consider how much of the GHG emissions associated with livestock would still be produced anyway if we switched them out for non-animal agriculture. Given the expected growth in synthetic fertilizers required for replacement protein crops and in the number of wild ruminants that would result in this scenario, a significant amount of methane and nitrous oxide emissions would still occur. This is also the case for a large portion of the emissions of carbon dioxide from land use change and transportation which are presently attributed to livestock (worth about half of the FAO's figure of 14.5 per cent of global GHG emissions).

Second, as the FAO notes, "hundreds of millions of pastoralists and smallholders depend on livestock for their daily survival and extra income and food," which suggests that a global policy which calls for the elimination of livestock for the purposes of tackling climate change would overwhelmingly impact people in the developing world who are responsible for only a fraction of global emissions.
There are yet other reasons, including the FAO's self-doubts about the actual extent of methane emissions from ruminants, and the relative "half-lives" of different GHGs, which suggests that any genuine climate solution will be insufficient without confronting emissions from fossil fuels -- the most significant contributor to anthropogenic climate change. Then of course there's the carbon sequestration potential of properly managed livestock, leading the FAO to claim that despite its current emissions, "the global livestock sector...can also deliver a significant share of the necessary mitigation effort."

All this to say, if you are going to take Suzuki's advice, which ultimately is to follow Pollan's advice ("eat [real] food; not too much, mostly plants"), keep in mind that this is not a clarion call to eliminate animal protein from your diet, but rather means taking the time to think about where and how your food (all of your food) was produced.

Next time you crave meat, make it a special occasion and support a local farmer in your area who is practicing organic, humane animal agriculture and taking steps to reduce (or even sequester) GHG emissions through their management practices.