Sustainable Farming - still a tough nut to crack

By Ruth Mattock

Agriculture has been through the mill in these strange virus times, with farm labour uncertain, catering outlets lost and markets closed. DEFRA Secretary George Eustice claims adversity has proven the worth of our food system, others that cracks are being revealed in a system not fit for purpose. Either way, food security has raced back up the national priority ladder. As that discussion  can lead to a ‘productivity at all costs’ refrain, sustainable farming is more relevant than ever. 

Sustainability in food and agriculture is complex, allowing the broad claim to be deployed across packaging and policy in an attempt to calm citizens and consumers increasingly worried by climate change, biodiversity collapse and a food system with a disheartening reputation for poorly distributed profit, not to mention a significant national diet-related disease burden. 

Rather that attempt to pin down a definition, which is beyond both this author’s word count and expertise, let’s instead pick at some of the knots which make a definition hard to agree on. 

A Big Idea 

The general meaning of sustainability applies in agriculture as elsewhere: meeting the needs of the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs. The FAO on sustainable farming adds, “Such sustainable development […] conserves land, water, plant and animal genetic resources, is environmentally non-degrading, technically appropriate, economically viable and socially acceptable.” (FAO Council, 1989).

You’ll notice a quadruple of value judgements at the end there that elude water-tight decision-making. As for the land, water and genetics of the natural resource base, any breakdown of such resources comes with a siloed raft of responses that often contradict each other. Renewable energy is not so appealing if sourced from a biodigester churning crops that could have entered the food chain; tree-planting is great unless grassland and wetland carbon stores are being dug up to make room for it; technical fixes with high embodied carbon are self-contradictory. 

Thus emerge all sorts of whole-system practices - climate smart agriculture, the climate-friendly farming of the NFU, agroecological principles, organic farming, regenerative farming. They are far from cohesive. Should farming involve greater intervention or less, as in no-plough? Increased inputs, like carbon-absorbing biochar, or less? Intensive agriculture alongside radical conservation, or extensive and nature-friendly farming (a false binary by all accounts, but for the purposes of illustrating the confusion…)? Green frills appear on the options list alongside huge systemic overhauls, all claiming the same sustainable title. 

How do you measure it?

With so many means on the table, how to judge what kind of farming is ultimately sustainable? As exit from EU agricultural policy approaches, and a new UK system promising public money for public goods emerges, a comprehensive measurement is an important goal. Several international frameworks exist, such as the FAO’s Sustainability Assessment of Food and Agriculture system (SAFA) or the Natural Capital Protocol, plus innumerable on-farm apps. In a UK attempt at cohesion, the Sustainable Food Trust are piloting their own framework under the Environmental Land Management Scheme, based on ten action areas. Farming is a remarkably bureaucratised business, heaping paperwork on an already time-poor industry, and this metric aims to employ existing data to reduce the burden. 

Accounting for variation across the UK will be difficult. And such frameworks often only apply on-farm; the efficacy of both food distribution and conservation measures depend on links between farms and other organisations. The coronavirus lockdown has regenerated interest in local food, with veg box subscriptions and direct-from-farm purchases shooting up. Many communities have responded to disrupted supply chains by absorbing surplus food and redeploying where it is needed - facilitated by cooperation between producers and community groups or retailers. 

Conservation and its rock star offspring ‘rewilding’ have highlighted the need for connections and corridors between natural spaces. Islands of protection are of limited benefit: small organic farms surrounded by pesticide-spraying land giants can provide respite but not viable habitats. The Farmer Cluster initiative supported by Natural England enables groups of land managers to work together towards common environmental aims. 

The cow or the how? 

Meat’s role in sustainability demands an essay on its own. The EAT-Lancet report recommends no more than 98g of red meat a week; vegan sausage rolls have barrelled onto high streets and even KFC has a vegan option. The farming community is understandably nervous of this particular green movement, as we increasingly question the presence of meat in a sustainable diet. 

Readers must make their own decisions on the ethics of meat-eating, but for those embracing chilli sin carne for purely environmental reasons, there are complexities to consider. Grasslands maintained by animals are a significant carbon capture resource, and livestock-grazed meadows some of the most biodiverse habitats in the UK. Livestock’s role in greenhouse gas emissions is also far from straightforward. While it’s true that methane - gas produced from the business ends of ruminant grazers like cows and sheep - is a more powerful greenhouse gas than carbon dioxide, unlike CO2 it breaks down after a few decades. In theory, a sustainable level of methane production, produced at the rate of breakdown, is achievable. Animals in regenerative farm systems - that address their CO2 and nitrous oxide emissions - could conceivably be both zero GHG and beneficial for the environment.

Is this a lengthy way to bid you on your way to a Big Mac? Certainly not. The proportion of meat produced under such conditions is small. While permanent pasture is worth protecting, far more common are the regularly ploughed animal feed crops that take up 50% of agricultural land, not to mention the tonnes of soy etc. shipped in from hard-to-trace sources. The point is, ‘It’s not the cow but the how,’ to quote the Oxford Real Farming Conference this year. Rather than meat or no meat, how much meat, and what sort? (Note this is purely on the subject of UK meat sustainability, not the ethics of meat-eating). 

No-farm futures

Earlier this year a government aide was reported to say the UK economy didn’t need farming at all, and we could make like Singapore and import everything. It proved an overblown story and coronavirus has made such thought experiments redundant. But many visions of the future of farming do look radically different, from urban farming at the calmer end to vertical farms and aquaponics - a closed, soil-less system that cycles water and nutrients - at the other. At this moment restaurant-quality salad leaves are being grown in disused tube tunnels under London, an attractive option as distance logistics get tricky under lockdown. 

Alongside the usual sustainability questions, this highlights the nebulous idea of authenticity. Some shudder at such LED-lit systems, feeling instinctively that nature and farming are and should remain intrinsically related. Others posit that such systems have a role in boosting urban supply, access to produce out of traditional seasons and reducing high-input greenhouse growing and imports from warmer climes. 

Does sustainable food even come from a farm? The well-known wilding project on the Knepp estate sells ‘Wild Range’ meat from its foraging ancient breeds. It would be hard to find more ‘authentic’ meat, but at 75 tonnes a year from 3,500 hectares, it can’t provide for a burger-loving population. 

But then, nor does it claim to. No model needs to answer the sustainability problem on its own. Diversity has proved a decent rule in other areas of life, and surely holds true here: a bit of everything will probably get the job done. Now how to legislate for that…?