For nearly a century, from 1839 to 1924, the US government distributed free seeds to any citizen who wanted them. As told in First the Seed, by Jack Kloppenburg, seeds of field crops, vegetables and even flowers were sourced from around the world (often by the US Navy). The seed was multiplied in the USA, and mailed through the post by members of Congress to their constituents. The program was wildly popular and by 1861, the first year of the American Civil War, almost two and a half million seed packages (each with five packets of seed) were being shipped each year to farmers and gardeners.
As Kloppenburg explains, given the botanical knowledge of the time, and the limited ability of formal agricultural research in the United States, the free seed for farmers âwas the most efficient means of developing adapted and improved crop varieties.â
I recently saw a little window into this seed program. On 7 April 2022, The Times-Independent (a newspaper in Moab, Utah), published a replica of their page one from exactly 100 years earlier. One short story, âSeeds Go Quicklyâ showed just how much people loved free seed. The little story reads:
SEEDS GO QUICKLY
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I hadnât realized that newspapers also helped to distribute the seed. In 1922, Moabâs local newspaper did not bother telling its readers what the âgovernment seedâ was. They knew it well, even though today the program is forgotten. Kloppenburg says that the government seed was not only free, but of high quality, better than what private companies were then able to supply. This partly explains the rush of townspeople clamoring seed at The Times-Independent office, but farmersâ love of innovation was also a reason for the excitement. The farmers and gardeners who swung open the glass door of the newspaper office didnât know what kind of seed was in the little packages. There was some mystery there: each package contained several packets of different seed. Each packet was just a handful of seed, enough to try out, but not enough to plant a field.
The free seed sparked thousands of farmer experiments over decades, which formed the basis of modern, North American agriculture.
The development of the adapted base of germplasm on which American agriculture was raised is the product of thousands of experiments by thousands of farmers committing millions of hours of labor in thousands of diverse ecological niches over a period of many decades.
Jack Kloppenburg, First the Seed, page 56
In the early 1800s seed companies were small, but they were growing. By 1883 these companies organized as the American Seed Trade Association (ASTA) and immediately began to lobby against government seed. Free seed was so popular that it took ASTA forty years, until 1924, to finally convince Congress to kill the program, at the height of its popularity.
Since 1922, companies have largely wrested control of seed from farmers, who once produced and exchanged all of the seed of field crops. Itâs worth remembering that small gifts of seed sparked farmer experiments that shaped American agriculture.
Further reading
Kloppenburg, Jack Ralph, Jr. 1990 First the Seed: The Political Economy of Plant Biotechnology, 1492-2000. Cambridge University Press.
Related Agro-Insight blogs
Videos on using your own seed
Farmers’ rights to seed: experiences from Guatemala
Farmers’ rights to seed – Malawi
Maintaining varietal purity of sesame
Vea la versión en español a continuación
People who speak different dialects of the same language can understand each other. Unlike different languages, the dialects of those tongues are âmutually intelligible.â Americans and the British understand each other (almost always), because the US and the UK speak dialects of the same English language.
However, itâs complicated, as David Shariatmadari explains. Shariatmadari, non-fiction books editor at the Guardian, starts with the old joke: a language is a dialect with an army. The classic example is Danish, Norwegian and Swedish, which are all fairly similar, but for political reasons and national pride their governments use the schools and the media to maintain the uniqueness of these languages, which are often mutually intelligible.
Arabic is an example in the other direction. Spoken in some 20 countries with important differences between each nation, the Arab countries consider themselves speakers of one language, based on a shared tradition in classical Arabic literature, and other ties.
Shariatmadari doesnât mention Quechua, a native language still spoken in the Andes, in Ecuador, Peru and Bolivia. Once the language of the Inca Empire, Quechua has lacked its own national army since the Spanish Conquest. Even so, sixteenth century Spanish clergy encouraged the Quechua language, because it was already widely spoken, and could be used for missionary work. When the Jesuits arrived in the Andes in the 16th century, they quickly learned Quechua, published a dictionary of the language and began teaching it in their universities.
After the Spanish-American wars of independence (1810-1825), the new republican governments largely dismissed Quechua, ignoring it in schools and discouraging anyone from writing it.
Quechua is now enjoying a comeback of sorts in Bolivia, Peru and Ecuador. For example, it is being taught in some schools. Google is available in Quechua, and there are articles in Wikipedia in Quechua (look for âRuna Simiâ). Opinion is divided on whether Quechua is one language with different dialects or if it has evolved to be separate, closely related languages. The Bolivian government insists that Quechua is one language. In Ecuador, âQuechuaâ is called âKichwa,â to emphasize that it is a language in its own right, and not a dialect of Quechua.
With Paul and Marcella, from Agro-Insight, we visited the province of Cotopaxi, in the Andes of Ecuador, Where the agronomists Diego Mina and Mayra Coro study the lupin bean with several communities. Diego and Mayra took us to a Kichwa-speaking community, CuturivĂ Chico, where we got a chance to find out if the local people understood the Quechua version of our video on lupines. During a meeting with the community, Diego and Mayra invited them to watch the video, explaining that it had been filmed in Bolivia.
As the Quechua version of the video played, I watched the audience for their reaction. They smiled in appreciation. After all, videos in Quechua or Kichwa are rare. The farmers were absorbed in the 15-minute video all the way to the end.
Afterwards, Diego asked if they understood it. One person said he understood half. Another said âMore than half, maybe 60%.â Then Diego asked the crucial question, âWhat was the video about?â
The villagers neatly summarized the video. Diseases of the lupin bean could be controlled by selecting the healthiest grains as seed, and burying the sick ones. But the video had also sparked their imaginations. One said that in a previous experience they had learned to sort healthy seed potatoes, and now that they had seen the same idea with lupin beans, they wondered if the seed of broad beans could also be sorted, to produce a healthier crop.
Diego still felt that the farmers hadnât quite understood the video, so he showed the Spanish version. But this time, the reaction was muted. People watched politely, but they seemed a bit bored and at the end there was no new discussion.
Language and dialect are valid concepts, but âmutual intelligibilityâ can be influenced by visual communication, enunciation, and motivation. For example in this video, carefully edited images showed people separating healthy and diseased lupin beans, which may have helped the audience to understand the main idea, even if some of the words were unfamiliar.
Clarity of the speech also counts; this video was narrated by professional broadcasters who spoke Quechua as their native language, so it was well enunciated. Motivation also matters; if a topic is of interest, people will strain to understand it. Lupin beans are widely grown in CuturivĂ Chico, and these farmers really wanted to know about managing the cropâs diseases.
Whether Ecuadorian Kichwa and Bolivian Quechua are separate languages or dialects of the same tongue is still up for debate among linguists. Fortunately, people also communicate visually (for example, with excellent photography); they understand more if the words are carefully and distinctly pronounced, and if the listeners are motivated by a topic that interests them.
Watch the video
You can see the video, Growing lupin without disease, in Quechua, Spanish, and English (besides other languages).
Further reading
Shariatmadari, David 2019 Donât Believe a Word: The Surprising Truth about Language. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.
Note on names
The lupine bean (Lupinus mutabilis) is called chocho in Ecuador, and tarwi in Bolivia.
Acknowledgements
Thanks to Diego Mina and Mayra Coro for introducing us the farmers in Cotopaxi, and for sharing their knowledge with us. Thanks also to Mayra and Diego, and to Eric Boa and Paul Van Mele for their valuable comments on a previous version of this blog. Diego and Mayra work for IRD (Institut de Recherche pour le DĂ©veloppement) with the AMIGO project. Our work was funded by the McKnight Foundationâs Collaborative Crop Research Program (CCRP).
Photos
Photos by Paul Van Mele and Jeff Bentley. Map from Wikimedia Commons
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Quechua_(with_country_names).svg.
ÂżIDIOMA O DIALECT? ES COMPLICADO
Jeff Bentley, 13 de marzo del 2021
Cuando la gente habla diferentes dialectos de una misma lengua, se entiende. A diferencia de los idiomas distintos, los dialectos de esas lenguas son “mutuamente inteligibles”. Los estadounidenses y los britĂĄnicos se entienden (casi siempre), porque los Estados Unidos y el Reino Unido hablan dialectos de la misma lengua inglesa.
Sin embargo, es complicado, como explica David Shariatmadari, editor de libros de no ficciĂłn en The Guardian. Ăl comienza con el viejo chiste: un idioma es un dialecto con un ejĂ©rcito. El ejemplo clĂĄsico es el danĂ©s, el noruego y el sueco, que son bastante similares, pero por razones polĂticas y de orgullo nacional sus gobiernos usan las escuelas y los medios de comunicaciĂłn para mantener cierta separaciĂłn entre estas lenguas, que a menudo son mutuamente inteligibles.
El ĂĄrabe es un ejemplo en la otra direcciĂłn. Hablado con importantes diferencias en una veintena de paĂses, los paĂses ĂĄrabes se consideran hablantes de una sola lengua, basĂĄndose en su tradiciĂłn compartida de la literatura ĂĄrabe clĂĄsica, entre otras cosas.
Shariatmadari no menciona el quechua, una lengua nativa que todavĂa se habla en los Andes, en el Ecuador, PerĂș y Bolivia. El quechua, que fue la lengua del Imperio Inca, no ha tenido un ejĂ©rcito propio desde la conquista española. Pero los sacerdotes españoles del siglo XVI fomentaron la lengua quechua, porque ya mucha gente la hablaba, y era Ăștil para la labor misionera. Cuando los jesuitas llegaron a los Andes en el siglo XVI, aprendieron rĂĄpidamente el quechua, publicaron un diccionario de la lengua y comenzaron a enseñarla en sus universidades.
Después de las guerras de independencia hispanoamericanas (1810-1825), los nuevos gobiernos republicanos desprestigiaron en gran medida el quechua, ignoråndolo en las escuelas y fueron olvidando su escritura.
En la actualidad, el quechua estĂĄ resurgiendo un poco en Bolivia, PerĂș y Ecuador. Por ejemplo, en algunos colegios lo estĂĄn enseñando. Google estĂĄ disponible en quechua, y Wikipedia tiene artĂculos en quechua (busque âRuna Simiâ). Algunos discuten si el quechua es una lengua con varios dialectos o si son varios idiomas estrechamente relacionados. El gobierno boliviano insiste en que el quechua es una sola lengua. En Ecuador, el “quechua” se llama “kichwa”, para subrayar que es una lengua propia y no un dialecto del quechua.
Con Paul y Marcella, de Agro-Insight, visitamos la provincia de Cotopaxi, en los Andes del Ecuador, donde trabajan los ingenieros agrĂłnomos Diego Mina y Mayra Coro, quienes investigan el chocho (lupino) con algunas comunidades. Diego y Mayra nos llevaron a una comunidad kichwa-hablante, CuturivĂ Chico, donde pudimos averiguar si la gente local entenderĂa la versiĂłn de nuestro video en quechua sobre lupino o tarwi. Durante una reuniĂłn con la comunidad, Diego y Mayra les pidieron que observen el video explicĂĄndoles que se habĂa filmado en Bolivia.
Mientras se reproducĂa la versiĂłn quechua del video, observĂ© la reacciĂłn del pĂșblico. Sonrieron del puro gusto de ver el video. DespuĂ©s de todo, hay pocos videos en quechua o kichwa. Los campesinos estuvieron bien metidos en el video de 15 minutos hasta el final.
DespuĂ©s, Diego les preguntĂł si lo habĂan entendido. Uno de ellos dijo que habĂa entendido la mitad. Otro dijo: “MĂĄs de la mitad, quizĂĄ el 60%”. Entonces Diego hizo la pregunta crucial: “ÂżDe quĂ© trataba el video?”.
Resumieron claramente el video. Las enfermedades del lupino podĂan controlarse seleccionando los granos mĂĄs sanos como semilla y enterrando los enfermos. Pero el video tambiĂ©n habĂa despertado su imaginaciĂłn. Uno de ellos dijo que en una experiencia anterior habĂan aprendido a clasificar semilla sana de papa, y ahora que habĂan visto la misma idea con el lupino, se preguntaban si la semilla de las habas tambiĂ©n podrĂa clasificarse, para producir una cosecha mĂĄs sana.
Diego aĂșn dudaba si los agricultores habĂan entendido bien el video, asĂ que les mostrĂł la versiĂłn en español. Esta vez la reacciĂłn fue mĂĄs silenciosa. La gente parecĂa un poco aburrida, y al final no hubo ninguna nueva discusiĂłn.
La diferencia entre idioma y dialecto es real, pero la “inteligibilidad mutua” a menudo se influye por la comunicaciĂłn visual, la pronunciaciĂłn clara, y la motivaciĂłn. Por ejemplo, en este video, las imĂĄgenes cuidadosamente editadas mostraban a personas que separaban los granos de lupino sanos de los enfermos, lo que puede haber ayudado a la audiencia a entender la idea principal, aunque desconocĂan algunas de las palabras.
La claridad del discurso tambiĂ©n cuenta; este video fue narrado por locutores profesionales que hablaban quechua como lengua materna, por lo que estaba bien enunciado. La motivaciĂłn tambiĂ©n importa; si un tema es de interĂ©s, la gente se esfuerza por entenderlo. Los lupinos se cultivan ampliamente en CuturivĂ Chico, y estos agricultores realmente querĂan saber cĂłmo manejar las enfermedades del cultivo.
Si el kichwa ecuatoriano y el quechua boliviano son distintos idiomas o dialectos de una sola lengua es algo que los lingĂŒistas todavĂa pueden discutir. Afortunadamente, las personas tambiĂ©n se comunican visualmente (por ejemplo, con una excelente fotografĂa); entienden mejor si las palabras se pronuncian con cuidado y nitidez, y si los oyentes estĂĄn motivados por un tema que les interesa.
Para ver el video
Puede ver el video, Producir tarwi sin enfermedad, en quechua, español, e inglés (ademås de otros idiomas).
Lectura adicional
Shariatmadari, David 2019 Donât Believe a Word: The Surprising Truth about Language. Londres: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.
Una nota sobre los nombres
El lupino (Lupinus mutabilis) se llama chocho en el Ecuador, y tarwi en Bolivia.
Agradecimientos
Gracias a Diego Mina y Mayra Coro por presentarnos a la gente de Cotopaxi, y por compartir su conocimiento con nosotros. Gracias a Mayra y Diego, y a Eric Boa y Paul VAn Mele por sus valiosos comentarios sobre una versión previa de este blog. Diego y Mayra trabajan para IRD (Institut de Recherche pour le Développement), con el proyecto AMIGO. Nuestro trabajo fue financiado por Programa Colaborativo de Investigación de Cultivos (CCRP) de la Fundación McKnight.
Fotos
Fotos por Paul Van Mele y Jeff Bentley. Mapa de Wikimedia Commons
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Quechua_(with_country_names).svg.
Nederlandse versie hieronder
Ignoring signs from nature
An eye-opening book by Mark Kurlansky helps readers to reflect on current societal choices by diving into the history of a topic that may at first seem uninspiring, the cod.
For more than a thousand years Europeans have fished in remote waters, thousands of kilometres from their homeland. Conflicts between nations over fishing have an equally long and dynamic history. Until the last century, rules and regulations in the industry only aimed at securing and protecting trade (and therefore political power), never on protecting the carrying capacity of our natural system.
The North Atlantic Cod, which is a fish that lives on the bottom of the ocean, was typically caught with fishing lines, and overfishing was never at stake, or at least not until last century.
Already by the 13th century, merchants from northern Germany organised trade across Europe through their Hanseatic League. Gradually, they expanded fishing regulations in the northern waters of the Atlantic, from the Baltic Sea all the way to Iceland. Even as relations between nations shifted over the centuries, the Basques in northern Spain and southwest France were little bothered by these rules. They caught whales and cod, mainly for the Mediterranean market, while avoiding fishing grounds where other nations were active.
As early as the year 1000, the Basques had greatly expanded the international cod trade. While they had the advantage of being able to dry sea salt by evaporation, something countries further north were not able to do, they were also remarkable ship builders. Some 500 years before Columbus, the Basques were already fishing the worldâs richest cod grounds along the coast of Canada, in the waters now called the Grand Banks. While other countries were keen to claim the discovery of new lands, the Basques were pragmatic traders and preferred to keep their fishing ground secret for as long as possible.
But when there are riches to harvest, secrets get out sooner or later. The 16th century gold rush to the southern part of the Americas was soon followed by the cod rush to the northern part, at first by Portugal and Spain, later also by the English, French, Dutch and Scandinavians. Access to salt to preserve fish for the trip home became a necessity as sailors explored fishing grounds across the Atlantic. (The wars fought over salt and its role in the fish and other trade are described in Kurlanskyâs other inspiring book, Salt.)
In an address to the International Fisheries Exhibition in London in 1883, British scientific philosopher Thomas Henry Huxley used Darwinâs theory to convince the world that over-fishing was an unscientific and unreasonable fear. Nature would send signals as fish stocks dropped. The bountiful harvests in the northwest Atlantic gave a false impression that cod could never be extinguished, notwithstanding the observations of fishermen. This blind belief in the ability of nature to cope with human interference and the arrogant attitude to dismiss local knowledge would be reflected in Canadian government policy for the next hundred years.
While discoveries such as the telegraph allowed fishermen to learn about market prices and receive warnings about storms, fishing vessels and methods also started to change, enabling greater catches year after year.
In fact, by the 1890s, just ten years after Huxley gave his convincing speech to world leaders, fish stocks were already showing signs of depletion in the North Sea. People turned a blind eye. Instead of thinking about conservation, European fleets moved on to richer waters around Iceland. As traditional fishing with fish lines had been replaced by trawlers, nets that sweep the ocean floor entangled any fish it encountered with devastating effect on ocean biodiversity. Trawlers require more energy than the muscles of seafarers can provide, so the new ships were made possible by the introduction of the steam engine.
In Canada, the fishing grounds of the Grand Banks were at first still spared from these technological developments partly because Canadian fishermen stuck to their traditional fishing lines which required far less investment. And because the expense of using coal discouraged the European fleets from crossing the Atlantic. But it was just matters of years. Coal was soon replaced by diesel and industrial fishing boats began trawling for cod.
In the 1950s, the frozen fish stick dealt a final blow to the seemingly endless cod stocks. The breaded, tasteless fish sticks in cardboard boxes became an instant commercial success, making it âa pleasure for families to prepare, serve and eatâ according to one of the adverts of that time. This change in consumption behaviour led to such a sharp increase in unsustainable fishing practices that the cod stock completely collapsed in the 1990s.
We are currently facing tremendous challenges such as climate change and loss of biodiversity, because of the way we produce and consume our food. How many more signs do we need from nature before we start to take proper decisions? Debate is all well and good, unless one side is simply wrong. Environmental arguments should not continue until human greed causes natural disaster.
Credit
Photo of cod: © Gilbert Van Ryckevorsel / WWF-Canada.
Time series for the collapse of the Atlantic northwest cod stock, capture in million tonnes. Based on FishStat database FAO. Copyright by Epipelagic under Creative Commons license CC BY-SA 3.0.
Further readingÂ
Mark Kurlansky. 1999. Cod. A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World. Vintage: â Random House UK, 304 pp.
Related Agro-Insight blogs
When the bees hit a brick wall
Signalen van de natuur negeren
Mark Kurlansky heeft een boek geschreven dat de lezer helpt na te denken over de huidige maatschappelijke keuzes, door in de geschiedenis te duiken van een onderwerp dat op het eerste gezicht misschien weinig inspirerend lijkt: de kabeljauw.
Al meer dan duizend jaar vissen Europeanen in afgelegen wateren, duizenden kilometers van hun vaderland. Conflicten tussen naties over de visserij hebben een even lange en dynamische geschiedenis. Tot in de vorige eeuw waren de regels en voorschriften in de sector uitsluitend gericht op het veiligstellen en beschermen van de handel (en dus van de politieke macht), nooit op het beschermen van de draagkracht van ons natuurlijk systeem.
De Noord-Atlantische kabeljauw, een vis die op de bodem van de oceaan leeft, werd meestal gevangen met vislijnen, en overbevissing was nooit aan de orde, althans niet tot in de vorige eeuw.
Reeds in de 13e eeuw organiseerden kooplieden uit Noord-Duitsland via hun Hanzesteden de handel in heel Europa. Geleidelijk aan breidden zij de visserijvoorschriften in de noordelijke wateren van de Atlantische Oceaan uit, van de Oostzee helemaal tot IJsland. Zelfs toen de betrekkingen tussen de naties in de loop der eeuwen veranderden, hadden de Basken in Noord-Spanje en Zuidwest-Frankrijk weinig last van deze regels. Zij vingen walvissen en kabeljauw, hoofdzakelijk voor de mediterrane markt, en vermeden visgronden waar andere naties actief waren.
Reeds in het jaar 1000 hadden de Basken de internationale kabeljauwhandel sterk uitgebreid. Terwijl zij het voordeel hadden dat zij zeezout konden drogen door verdamping, iets waartoe landen verder naar het noorden niet in staat waren, waren zij ook opmerkelijke scheepsbouwers. Ongeveer 500 jaar vóór Columbus visten de Basken reeds op ‘s werelds rijkste kabeljauwgronden langs de kust van Canada, in de wateren die nu de Grand Banks worden genoemd. Terwijl andere landen graag de ontdekking van nieuwe landen opeisten, waren de Basken pragmatische handelaars en hielden zij hun visgronden liever zo lang mogelijk geheim.
Maar als er rijkdommen te oogsten zijn, komen geheimen vroeg of laat aan het licht. De 16e-eeuwse goudkoorts naar het zuidelijke deel van Amerika werd al snel gevolgd door de kabeljauwkoorts naar het noordelijke deel, eerst door Portugal en Spanje, later ook door de Engelsen, Fransen, Nederlanders en ScandinaviĂ«rs. Zout om de vis te bewaren voor de thuisreis werd een noodzaak toen de zeelieden de visgronden aan de overzijde van de Atlantische Oceaan verkenden. (De oorlogen die om zout werden uitgevochten en de rol die zout speelde in de handel in vis en andere producten worden beschreven in Kurlansky’s andere inspirerende boek, Salt).
In een toespraak tot de Internationale Visserij Tentoonstelling in Londen in 1883, gebruikte de Britse wetenschappelijke filosoof Thomas Henry Huxley de theorie van Darwin om de wereld ervan te overtuigen dat overbevissing een onwetenschappelijke en onredelijke angst was. De natuur zou signalen afgeven als de visbestanden afnamen. De overvloedige oogsten in het noordwestelijk deel van de Atlantische Oceaan wekten de valse indruk dat de kabeljauw nooit zou kunnen uitsterven, niettegenstaande de waarnemingen van de vissers. Dit blinde geloof in het vermogen van de natuur om met menselijke verstoringen om te gaan en de arrogante houding om plaatselijke kennis terzijde te schuiven, zouden de volgende honderd jaar hun weerslag vinden in het Canadese regeringsbeleid.
In feite vertoonden de visbestanden in de Noordzee in de jaren 1890, slechts tien jaar nadat Huxley zijn overtuigende toespraak voor de wereldleiders had gehouden, reeds tekenen van uitputting. Iedereen kneep een oogje dicht. In plaats van na te denken over natuurbehoud, verplaatsten de Europese vloten zich naar rijkere wateren rond IJsland. De traditionele visvangst met vislijnen was inmiddels vervangen door boten met sleepnetten die de oceaanbodem schoonvegen en alle vis verstrikken die ze tegenkomen, met verwoestende gevolgen voor de biodiversiteit in de oceanen.
In Canada bleven de visgronden van de Grand Banks aanvankelijk nog gespaard van deze technologische ontwikkelingen, deels omdat de Canadese vissers vasthielden aan hun traditionele vislijnen die veel minder investeringen vergden. En omdat de kosten van het gebruik van steenkool de Europese vloten ervan weerhielden de Atlantische Oceaan over te steken. Maar het was slechts een kwestie van jaren. Steenkool werd al snel vervangen door diesel en industriële vissersboten begonnen met de sleepnetvisserij op kabeljauw.
In de jaren 1950 deelde de bevroren visstick een laatste klap uit aan de schijnbaar eindeloze kabeljauwbestanden. De gepaneerde, smaakloze vissticks in kartonnen dozen werden een onmiddellijk commercieel succes, waardoor het “voor gezinnen een plezier werd om te bereiden, op te dienen en te eten” volgens een van de advertenties uit die tijd. Deze verandering in het consumptiegedrag leidde tot zo’n sterke toename van niet-duurzame visserijpraktijken dat het kabeljauwbestand in de jaren negentig volledig instortte.
Door de manier waarop wij ons voedsel produceren en consumeren, staan wij momenteel voor enorme uitdagingen, zoals de klimaatverandering en het verlies van biodiversiteit. Hoeveel signalen van de natuur hebben we nog nodig voordat we de juiste beslissingen gaan nemen? Debatteren is allemaal goed en wel, tenzij één partij het gewoon bij het verkeerde eind heeft. De milieudiscussie moet niet worden voortgezet tot de hebzucht van de mens een natuurramp veroorzaakt.
Vea la versión en español a continuación
It takes skill and knowledge to be a farmer. Hard work alone wonât always make you a farmer, as shown by an experiment in Bolivia in the early 1940s.
In 1938 and 1939, when most of the worldâs countries were closing their borders to the victims of Nazism in Central Europe, Bolivian consulates were one of the few places where refugees could get a visa. Many were âagricultural visas,â and others were obtained by making extra payments to consular officials.
In Hotel Bolivia, Leo Spitzer tells the story of the thousands of people who found a safe haven in Bolivia. Spitzer is well placed to write the story. He is a professional historian, born in La Paz in 1939 to a family recently arrived from Austria. Although the refugees arrived penniless and traumatized, once in Bolivia they received some help from organizations like the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee (JDC, based in New York), and from Mauricio (Moritz) Hochschild, a Jewish immigrant who had left his village near Frankfurt in the 1920s to become one of Boliviaâs three wealthy tin barons.
Hochschild was sensitive to what we would now call optics. He thought the German-speaking refugees were too visible in what were then Boliviaâs two big cities, La Paz and Cochabamba. Many refugees had opened small businesses. Spitzerâs own father, Eugen, ran a successful plumbing and electrical shop near the Plaza del Estudiante, in the heart of La Paz.
The tin baron feared that seeing so many recently arrived foreigners might spark anti-Semitism, especially since it was becoming something of a scandal that the consulates had demanded bribes. It turned out that Hochschildâs worries were exaggerated. The Bolivians were neither very welcoming, nor very hostile. They patronized the newcomersâ shops and allowed them to set up their own school, where children were taught in German.
Nevertheless, the concerned Hochschild convinced the JDC to buy three haciendas, some 1,000 hectares of mountainous land in a place called Charobamba, near the small town of Coroico, just 100 km from La Paz, but three thousand meters lower, down a narrow, winding, treacherous road.
The colony was called Buena Tierra (Good Land) and it got off to a good start in 1940. The settlers had a clinic, staffed with a refugee doctor and nurse. The settlers met often for social events, and they were organized. They received a stipend of about 1,000 bolivianos ($23, which was worth more in the 1940s). This bit of money allowed the would-be farmers to survive as they built themselves small adobe houses with cement floors and sheet metal roofs.
Unfortunately, few if any of the settlers had experience with agriculture or even with rural life. One year they were strolling down the avenues of Vienna, and the next year they were blasting a road with dynamite from Charobamba to Coroico. Their guide for farming was an Italian-Argentine agronomist, Felipe Bonoli, who tried to repeat his success of leading an Italian colony on the temperate plains of Argentina, but the steep, tropical hillsides of Charobamba were another matter, and Bonoli soon left. A German agronomist, Otto Braun, fared no better and left in 1942 after a year after trying to teach the colonists to plant coffee and bananas, crops that Braun had no experience with. Finally, Tierra Buena hired two local farmers, Luis SolĂs and Luis Gamarra, and the colony did begin producing small amounts of citrus, coffee and bananas, but these are all perennial crops, and the settlers seem to have been frustrated that they took so long to bear fruit.
At the height of the experience, in 1943 there were 180 adult refugees living and working in Tierra Buena, and some hired laborers, Aymara-speaking people (some from the area, and others from Lake Titicaca). But as the World War II ended, most of the colonists returned to the city, applied for visas, and emigrated, mainly to the United States, Palestine, Chile and Brazil.
One colonist did stay. Hans Homburger lived in Tierra Buena until the farm was disbanded in 1960. By then it was being successfully farmed by the former laborers, who worked on the farm for two days a week in exchange for the right to use some of the land to grow their own crops. With their farming skills, and local knowledge, the former employees were able to make hard work pay off, and they harvested fruit and coffee to sell.
It takes more than hard work and enthusiasm to be a successful farmer. Farming takes skill and know-how, much of which must be local, and grounded in practice.
Further reading
Spitzer, Leo 2019 Hotel Bolivia: The Culture of Memory in a Refuge from Nazism. Plunkett Lake Press. (Especially Chapter 4).
UN REFUGIO AGRĂCOLA
Por Jeff Bentley, 22 de agosto del 2021}
Ser agricultor quiere habilidad y conocimiento. El trabajo duro por sà solo no siempre es suficiente, como demuestra un experimento hecho en Bolivia a principios de la década de 1940.
En 1938 y 1939, cuando la mayorĂa de los paĂses del mundo cerraban sus fronteras a las vĂctimas del nazismo en Europa Central, los consulados bolivianos eran uno de los pocos lugares donde los refugiados podĂan obtener una visa. Muchas eran “visas agrĂcolas” y otras se obtuvieron con una coima al funcionario consular.
En Hotel Bolivia, Leo Spitzer cuenta la historia de los miles de personas que encontraron un refugio en Bolivia. Spitzer estĂĄ bien situado para escribir esta historia. Es un historiador profesional, nacido en La Paz en 1939 en una familia reciĂ©n llegada de Austria. Aunque los refugiados llegaron sin dinero y traumatizados, una vez en Bolivia recibieron cierta ayuda de organizaciones como el ComitĂ© Conjunto JudĂo Americano de DistribuciĂłn (JDC, con sede en Nueva York), y de Mauricio (Moritz) Hochschild, un inmigrante judĂo que habĂa dejado su pueblo cerca de Frankfurt en la dĂ©cada de 1920 para convertirse en uno de los tres ricos barones del estaño de Bolivia.
Hochschild era sensible a lo que ahora llamarĂamos la Ăłptica. Pensaba que los refugiados de habla alemana eran demasiado visibles en las dos grandes ciudades de Bolivia, La Paz y Cochabamba. Muchos refugiados habĂan abierto pequeños negocios. El propio padre de Spitzer, Eugen, tenĂa una exitosa tienda de plomerĂa y electricidad cerca de la Plaza del Estudiante, en el corazĂłn de La Paz.
El barĂłn del estaño temĂa que la presencia de tantos extranjeros reciĂ©n llegados pudiera desencadenar el antisemitismo, sobre todo porque se estaba convirtiendo en un escĂĄndalo el hecho de que los oficiales habĂan vendido las visas con un sobreprecio. ResultĂł que las preocupaciones de Hochschild eran exageradas. Los bolivianos no eran ni muy acogedores ni muy hostiles. Patrocinaron las tiendas de los reciĂ©n llegados y les permitieron establecer su propia escuela, en la que se enseñaba a los niños en alemĂĄn.
Sin embargo, el preocupado Hochschild convenció al JDC para que comprara tres haciendas, unas mil hectåreas de tierra montañosa en un lugar llamado Charobamba, cerca de la pequeña ciudad de Coroico, a sólo 100 km de La Paz, pero tres mil metros mås abajo, por una carretera estrecha, sinuosa y traicionera.
La colonia se llamĂł Tierra Buena y comenzĂł bien en el 1940. Los colonos tenĂan una clĂnica, atendida por un mĂ©dico y una enfermera refugiados. Los colonos se reunĂan a menudo para celebrar actos sociales y estaban organizados. RecibĂan un estipendio de unos 1.000 bolivianos (23 dĂłlares, que valĂan mĂĄs en la dĂ©cada de 1940). Este dinero les permitĂa sobrevivir mientras construĂan pequeñas casas de adobe con pisos de cemento y techos de calamina corrugada.
Infelizmente, pocos o ninguno de los colonos tenĂan experiencia en la agricultura o incluso en la vida rural. Un año paseaban por las avenidas de Viena y al año siguiente construĂan una carretera a dinamitazos desde Charobamba hasta Coroico. Su guĂa para la agricultura era un agrĂłnomo italo-argentino, Felipe Bonoli, que intentĂł repetir su Ă©xito al frente de una colonia italiana en las pampas templadas de Argentina, pero las empinadas laderas tropicales de Charobamba eran otra cosa, y Bonoli pronto se marchĂł. A un agrĂłnomo alemĂĄn, Otto Braun, no le fue mejor y se fue en 1942 tras un año de intentar enseñar a los colonos a plantar cafĂ© y plĂĄtanos, cultivos en los que Braun no tenĂa experiencia. Finalmente, Tierra Buena contratĂł a dos agricultores locales, Luis SolĂs y Luis Gamarra, y la colonia empezĂł a producir pequeñas cantidades de cĂtricos, cafĂ© y plĂĄtanos, pero todos son cultivos perennes, y los colonos parecen haberse sentido frustrados porque tardaran tanto en dar fruto.
En su apogeo, en 1943 habĂa 180 refugiados adultos viviendo y trabajando en Tierra Buena, y algunos trabajadores contratados, gente de habla aymara (algunos de la zona y otros del Lago Titicaca). Pero al terminar la Segunda Guerra Mundial, la mayorĂa de los colonos regresaron a la ciudad, solicitaron visados y emigraron, principalmente a Estados Unidos, Palestina, Chile y Brasil.
Un colono se quedĂł. Hans Homburger viviĂł en Buena Tierra hasta que la finca se disolviĂł en 1960. Para entonces, los antiguos jornaleros la explotaban con Ă©xito, trabajando en la granja dos dĂas a la semana a cambio del derecho a usar parte de la tierra para cultivar sus propios productos. Con sus habilidades agrĂcolas y sus conocimientos locales, los antiguos empleados consiguieron que el trabajo duro diera sus frutos, y cosecharon fruta y cafĂ© para vender.
Se necesita algo mås que trabajo duro y entusiasmo para ser un agricultor de éxito. La agricultura requiere destreza y conocimientos, muchos de los cuales deben ser locales y estar basados en la pråctica.
Lectura adicional
Spitzer, Leo 2021 Hotel Bolivia: La Cultura de la Memoria en un Refugio del Nazismo. La Paz: Plural Editores. (Especialmente el CapĂtulo 4).
Nederlandse versie volgt hieronder
Historical breakthroughs have often been made by applying ideas from elsewhere. This dawned on me once more while reading Fiammetta Roccoâs inspiring book Quinine â Malaria and the quest for a cure that changed the world. Without the stubbornness and perseverance of a Jesuit priest in the 17th century, the population of Europe would have been further decimated by malaria, currently only known to be a tropical disease, on top of the devastating plague or black death, which killed at least 4 million people during that time.
While the kings of Spain, Portugal, France, England and the Netherlands were fighting naval battles to gain or keep control over colonies, marsh fever was common in many parts of Europe with temporary wetlands. In Italy it was called mal’aria, a contracted form of mala aria or bad air, as the disease was thought to be caused by inhaling the unhealthy vapours of marshes.
Medical science had hardly advanced since the times of ancient Greece. Fever was considered a disease, not a symptom, caused by the imbalance of the four humours or basic elements which were believed to make up the human body: blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm. A patient with fever was said to be suffering from a fermentation of the blood resulting from too much bile. As fermenting blood behaved like boiling milk, producing a thick froth that had to be removed before the patient could recover, the preferred treatment for fever was bleeding or purging with laxatives, or both. The âcureâ was often worse than the disease.
For a long time, advances in medical science were greatly influenced by religion. According to the philosophy of their Spanish founder, Ignatius of Loyola, Jesuits were not to become doctors but rather to focus on peopleâs souls, yet many took a great interest in human health, studied anatomy and played a significant role in establishing pharmacies across the globe during the 17th century. Some of them even changed the course of medicine.
Brother Augustine Salumbrino, like many of the young Jesuits who were posted in Peru, made it a priority to learn Quechua and some took a deep interest in understanding local knowledge to the native Andeansâ way of life. The rich Quechua language showed that the Incas had deep knowledge of anatomy and medicinal plants.
The Jesuits at missions in Cusco, a city in the Peruvian Andes at about 3400 meters altitude, noticed that after being exposed to dampness and cold the native people drank a powdered bark from the cinchona tree, dissolved in hot water, to stop shivering. Salumbrino, passionate to help the poor in Lima, on the coastal plain, decided to test the bark on a few patients who were suffering from tertian and quartan fever (two types of malaria that cause fever periodically in 48 hour and 72-hour intervals, respectively).
Salumbrinoâs reasoning was a typical example of applying a basic principle to a different context: if the bitter bark stops people in the high Andes from shivering from cold, it may also stop people in the lowlands shivering from fever. As modern science now knows, the active component in the tree bark is quinine, which relaxes muscles and calms the nervous impulse that causes shivering. What Salumbrino could not have predicted, is that the bark not only stopped the shivering, but actually also cured the fever. Double luck.
While Salumbrino devoted his life to supplying quinine to Jesuit missions across the globe, he worked with local people to plant more trees, taught them how to remove the bark in vertical strips, so as not to kill the trees, processed the bark and established local and international distribution lines, one could rightly say that he laid the foundation for the quinine pharmaceutical industry. But it took some other events to have the drug recognised in Europe.
Despite the growing interest in natural history, including botany, the medical profession in 17th century Europe was still deeply conservative, with advances being further hindered by religious frictions between Catholics and Protestants. In England, Protestant physicians and pharmacists, all member of the Royal Society, openly criticised the effectiveness of what had become known as the âJesuit powderâ. They used all possible means, including the printing press, to stop its growing reputation. Yet popular demand remained high; it was hard to beat the news that the bark had successfully cured Englandâs King Charles II, the King of France, Louis XIV, and other royals who all praised its virtues.
Travelers coming from Rome or Belgium, by then the unofficial northern European centre of the Jesuit order, would still be wary of hand carrying or openly selling the bark to the people who needed it in southern England, because of the drugâs Catholic associations. As is often the case when people are desperate and supply cannot keep up with the demand, unscrupulous merchants soon began to adulterate pure quinine with other bitter-tasting barks.
While mainland Europe had a steady supply of Peruvian bark, larger supplies initially arrived in England mainly through pirates who seized Spanish vessels. It was only by the mid-18th century that commercial quantities of bark were shipped from Latin America to Europe. The drug industry flourished while people remained ignorant for centuries of how the disease was contracted. It was only in 1897 that Ronald Ross discovered that malaria parasites were actually transmitted by mosquitos.
While malaria is still prevalent in all tropical countries, few people now know that Europe got rid of malaria only in 1978 after swamps were drained, health infrastructure was greatly improved, and mosquitos were controlled.
Great breakthroughs often happen after people are exposed to ideas from elsewhere and when new scientific insights are gained. While this is true for humankind, most smallholder farmers in developing countries have limited opportunities to learn from their peers across borders, or from scientists. By merging scientific knowledge with local knowledge and presenting a wide range of practical local solutions, the videos hosted on the Access Agriculture video platform aim to overcome these challenges. The videos create opportunities for farmers to learn about the transmission of plant diseases through insect vectors and other topics on which farmers lack knowledge.
Credits
Photo of botanical drawing of quinine tree: copyright Biodiversity Heritage Library
Further reading
Fiammetta Rocco. 2003. Quinine â Malaria and the quest for a cure that changed the world. New York: Harper Perennial, pp. 384
Piperaki, E. T. and Daikos, G. L. 2016. Malaria in Europe: emerging threat or minor nuisance? Clinical Microbiology and Infection, 22:6, pp. 487-493.
Related blogs
Inspiring platforms
Access Agriculture: hosts over 220 training videos in over 90 languages on a diversity of crops and livestock, sustainable soil and water management, basic food processing, etc. Each video describes underlying principles, as such encouraging people to experiment with new ideas.
EcoAgtube: a social media video platform where anyone from across the globe can upload their own videos related to natural farming and circular economy.
Malaria een halt toeroepen in Europa
Paul Van Mele, 15 augustus 2021
Historische doorbraken zijn vaak tot stand gekomen door ideeĂ«n van elders toe te passen. Dat drong weer eens tot me door toen ik het inspirerende boek Quinine â Malaria and the quest for a cure that changed the world van Fiammetta Rocco las. Zonder de koppigheid en het doorzettingsvermogen van een jezuĂŻeten priester in de 17e eeuw zou de bevolking van Europa nog verder gedecimeerd zijn door malaria, waarvan nu alleen bekend is dat het een tropische ziekte is, bovenop de verwoestende pest of zwarte dood, die in die tijd aan minstens 4 miljoen mensen het leven kostte.
Terwijl de koningen van Spanje, Portugal, Frankrijk, Engeland en Nederland zeeslagen uitvochten om de controle over koloniĂ«n te krijgen of te behouden, was moeraskoorts aan de orde van de dag in vele delen van Europa met tijdelijke moerasgebieden. In ItaliĂ« werd de ziekte mal’aria genoemd, een verkorte vorm van mala aria of slechte lucht, omdat men dacht dat de ziekte werd veroorzaakt door het inademen van de ongezonde dampen van moerassen.
De medische wetenschap had sinds de Griekse oudheid nauwelijks vooruitgang geboekt. Koorts werd beschouwd als een ziekte, niet als een symptoom, veroorzaakt door een verstoring van het evenwicht van de vier humusstoffen of basiselementen waaruit het menselijk lichaam zou bestaan: bloed, gele gal, zwarte gal en slijm. Van een patiĂ«nt met koorts werd gezegd dat hij leed aan een gisting van het bloed ten gevolge van een teveel aan gal. Omdat gistend bloed zich gedroeg als kokende melk, waarbij een dik schuim ontstond dat moest worden verwijderd voordat de patiĂ«nt kon herstellen, bestond de voorkeursbehandeling voor koorts uit aderlaten of zuiveren met laxeermiddelen, of beide. Het “geneesmiddel” was vaak erger dan de kwaal.
Lange tijd werd de vooruitgang in de medische wetenschap sterk beĂŻnvloed door de godsdienst. Volgens de filosofie van hun Spaanse stichter, Ignatius van Loyola, mochten de jezuĂŻeten geen artsen worden, maar dienden ze zich te richten op de ziel van de mensen. Toch hadden velen een grote belangstelling voor de menselijke gezondheid, bestudeerden zij de anatomie en speelden zij een belangrijke rol bij het oprichten van apotheken over de hele wereld in de 17e eeuw. Sommigen van hen hebben zelfs de koers van de geneeskunde veranderd.
Broeder Augustinus Salumbrino maakte er, net als veel van de jonge jezuĂŻeten die in Peru waren gestationeerd, een prioriteit van om Quechua te leren en sommigen hadden een grote belangstelling in de lokale kennis en de leefwijze van de inheemse bevolking in het Andes gebergte. De rijke Quechua taal toonde aan dat de Inca’s een diepgaande kennis hadden van anatomie en geneeskrachtige planten.
De jezuïetenmissie in Cusco, een stad in de Peruaanse Andes op ongeveer 3400 meter hoogte, merkten dat de inheemse bevolking na blootstelling aan vocht en kou een poedervormige bast van de kinaboom dronk, opgelost in heet water, om het rillen te stoppen. Salumbrino, gepassioneerd om de armen in Lima, de hoofdstad gelegen aan de kust, te helpen, besloot de schors te testen op enkele patiënten die leden aan tertiaire en quartaire koorts (twee soorten malaria die periodiek koorts veroorzaken met een interval van respectievelijk 48 uur en 72 uur).
Salumbrino’s redenering was een typisch voorbeeld van het toepassen van een basisprincipe op een andere context: als de bittere schors voorkomt dat mensen in de hoge Andes rillen van de kou, kan het ook voorkomen dat mensen in het laagland rillen van de koorts. Zoals de moderne wetenschap nu weet, is het actieve bestanddeel in de boomschors kinine, dat de spieren ontspant en de zenuwimpuls kalmeert die rillingen veroorzaakt. Wat Salumbrino niet had kunnen voorspellen, is dat de schors niet alleen het rillen tegenhield, maar ook de koorts genas. Dubbel geluk.
Terwijl Salumbrino zijn leven wijdde aan het leveren van kinine aan jezuĂŻetenmissies over de hele wereld, werkte hij samen met de plaatselijke bevolking om meer bomen te planten, leerde hij hen hoe ze de schors in verticale stroken konden verwijderen om de bomen niet te doden, verwerkte hij de schors en legde hij lokale en internationale distributielijnen aan. Men zou met recht kunnen zeggen dat hij de basis legde voor de farmaceutische industrie van kinine. Maar er waren nog andere gebeurtenissen nodig om het geneesmiddel in Europa te doen erkennen.
Ondanks de groeiende belangstelling voor natuurlijke historie, met inbegrip van plantkunde, was het medische beroep in het 17e eeuwse Europa nog steeds zeer conservatief, waarbij vooruitgang verder werd belemmerd door religieuze wrijvingen tussen katholieken en protestanten. In Engeland bekritiseerden protestantse artsen en apothekers, allen lid van de Royal Society, openlijk de doeltreffendheid van wat bekend was geworden als het “jezuĂŻetenpoeder”. Zij gebruikten alle mogelijke middelen, waaronder de drukpers, om een halt toe te roepen aan de groeiende reputatie ervan. Toch bleef de vraag groot; het nieuws dat de bast met succes de Engelse koning Charles II, de koning van Frankrijk, Lodewijk XIV, en andere vorsten had genezen, was moeilijk te verslaan en prees de deugden ervan.
Reizigers die uit Rome of België kwamen, tegen die tijd het officieuze Noord-Europese centrum van de jezuïetenorde, waren nog steeds op hun hoede voor het vervoeren of openlijk verkopen van de bast aan de mensen die het nodig hadden in Zuid-Engeland, vanwege de katholieke associaties van het geneesmiddel. Zoals vaak het geval is wanneer mensen wanhopig zijn en het aanbod de vraag niet kan bijhouden, begonnen handelaars zonder scrupules al snel zuivere kinine te versnijden met andere bittere schorsoorten.
Terwijl het vasteland van Europa over een gestage aanvoer van Peruviaanse bast beschikte, arriveerden in Engeland aanvankelijk grotere voorraden voornamelijk via piraten die Spaanse schepen in beslag namen. Pas tegen het midden van de 18e eeuw werden commerciële hoeveelheden schors van Latijns-Amerika naar Europa verscheept. De geneesmiddelenindustrie floreerde terwijl de mensen eeuwenlang onwetend bleven over de wijze waarop de ziekte werd opgelopen. Pas in 1897 ontdekte Ronald Ross dat malaria-parasieten in feite door muggen werden overgebracht.
Hoewel malaria nog steeds in alle tropische landen voorkomt, weten maar weinig mensen nu dat Europa pas in 1978 van malaria af is gekomen nadat moerassen waren drooggelegd, de gezondheidsinfrastructuur sterk was verbeterd en muggen onder controle waren gebracht.
Grote doorbraken vinden vaak plaats nadat mensen zijn blootgesteld aan ideeĂ«n van elders en wanneer nieuwe wetenschappelijke inzichten zijn verkregen. Hoewel dit waar is voor de mensheid, hebben de meeste kleine boeren in ontwikkelingslanden beperkte mogelijkheden om te leren van hun collega’s over de grenzen heen, of van wetenschappers. Door wetenschappelijke kennis te combineren met lokale kennis en door een breed scala aan praktische lokale oplossingen te presenteren, proberen de video’s op het Access Agriculture videoplatform deze uitdagingen te overwinnen. De video’s bieden boeren de kans om meer te leren over de overdracht van plantenziekten door insectenvectoren en andere onderwerpen waarover boeren onvoldoende kennis hebben.
Credit
Photo of botanical drawing of quinine tree: copyright Biodiversity Heritage Library
Meer lezen
Fiammetta Rocco. 2003. Quinine â Malaria and the quest for a cure that changed the world. New York: Harper Perennial, pp. 384
Piperaki, E. T. and Daikos, G. L. 2016. Malaria in Europe: emerging threat or minor nuisance? Clinical Microbiology and Infection, 22:6, pp. 487-493.
Gerelateerde blogs van Agro-Insight
Inspirerende video platformen
Access Agriculture: bevat meer dan 220 trainingsvideo’s in meer dan 90 talen over een verscheidenheid aan gewassen en vee, duurzaam bodem- en waterbeheer, basisvoedselverwerking, enz. Elke video beschrijft de onderliggende principes en moedigt mensen zo aan om met nieuwe ideeĂ«n te experimenteren.
EcoAgtube: een nieuw social media platform waar iedereen van over de hele wereld zijn eigen video’s kan uploaden die gerelateerd zijn aan natuurlijke landbouw en circulaire economie.