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The Invention of Agriculture

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Tuesday, November 19, 2024

Subscribe here: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | YouTube | Overcast | Pocket CastsAfter 200,000 years of hunting and gathering, a history-defining decision was made. Starting roughly 12,000 years ago, at least seven different groups of humans independently began to settle down and begin farming. In so doing, they planted the seeds for modern civilization. This is traditionally told as a straightforward story of human progress. After humans made the switch, population growth increased, spurring innovative and creative endeavors that our ancestors couldn’t even imagine.One counterintuitive strain of thought has treated this decision as “the worst mistake in the history of the human race,” as the popular author Jared Diamond once put it. The argument largely rests on research that shows our nomadic forebears were healthier and had more leisure time than those who chose to farm. Diamond, who wrote this article in 1987, when overpopulation concerns were rampant within the American environmental movement, argued that, “forced to choose between limiting population or trying to increase food production, we chose the latter and ended up with starvation, warfare, and tyranny.”Sometimes unorthodox ideas are unorthodox for a reason. On today’s episode of Good on Paper, I’m joined by Andrea Matranga, an economist whose recent paper “The Ant and the Grasshopper: Seasonality and the Invention of Agriculture” argues that the Neolithic revolution happened as a result of climactic changes that necessitated storing food for the winter. Matranga rejects the idea that the past 12,000 years of human development were a mistake, one that underrates the threats of famine and starvation endemic to nomadic life.“There’s a sense in which theories of the Neolithic tend to mirror the political anxieties and the social anxieties of the time in which people came up with them and in which they found favor,” Matranga tells me. “So, you know, obviously in the ’80s—WWF, environmentalism, Earth Day—people are worried about runaway population growth. So obviously in the Neolithic, they must also have had runaway population growth. There’s this interesting mix of the current events bleeding into history.”The following is a transcript of the episode:[Music]Jerusalem Demsas: One of Aesop’s Fables is called “The Ant and the Grasshopper.” As the story goes, a hungry grasshopper comes up to a group of ants in the wintertime and asks them for some food to eat. They are shocked and ask him why he hasn’t stored anything up before the weather got cold. And he replies that he’d eaten well during the summer and made music while the weather was warm. The moral of the story is pretty straightforward: Save while times are good.But for most of human history, for 200,000 years, humanity was much more like the grasshopper than the ants. As hunter-gatherers, we ate well when resources were plentiful but didn’t save for winter, making us susceptible to starvation and death.But then something changed. Around the world, within a relatively short period of time, a bunch of humans independently began farming—and kept farming. How did this happen?[Music]My name’s Jerusalem Demsas. I’m a staff writer here at The Atlantic, and this is Good on Paper. It’s a policy show that questions what we really know about popular narratives.In a paper called “The Ant and the Grasshopper: Seasonality and the Invention of Agriculture,” economist Andrea Matranga formalizes a theory for how humans went from grasshoppers to ants—for how we went from hunting and gathering to settled farming.Climate seasonality increased, meaning winters got harsher and summers got drier. Hunter-gatherers couldn’t keep up with wildlife that fled for warmer climates. Birds can fly south for winters. Humans can’t. So they realized they needed to start storing food during good times. That meant the end of our nomadic lifestyles because people had to remain near those stores.This paper intervenes in the literature in a couple of important ways I explored with Andrea: First, it helps untangle the mystery of how humans became farmers to begin with. But second, it pushes back against the strangely nostalgic idea that our nomadic existence was somehow better than farming—an idea that holds sway among a surprising number of people.Let’s dive in.[Music] Demsas: Andrea, welcome to the show.Andrea Matranga: Thank you so much. Thank you for having me.Demsas: Yeah. So we’re here to talk about a very fun new paper that you’ve recently published at [The Quarterly Journal of Economics], and it’s about the Neolithic Revolution. We’re trying to go all the way back in time. We’ve done some development episodes, but this is further back than I think we’ve ever, ever gone.I want to start with what the Neolithic Revolution was. Can you set the stage for us?Matranga: Yes, absolutely. Neolithic means “new stone,” and it was first detected as a change in the shape of the stone tools that they were using. And then, eventually, they realized that the reason they changed the shape of the tools was also because they changed the subsistence method, meaning that before that—in the Paleolithic, in the Old Stone Age—everybody was a hunter-gatherer, meaning that they were subsisting on foods that grew wild, which they would collect, process, and consume. And then in the Neolithic, or New Stone Age, they started to grow their own food. So the origins of agriculture is what distinguishes the paleo from the Neolithic.Demsas: And around how long ago are we talking?Matranga: It was about 11,500 years ago in the Middle East. And there were seven of these places, and the two latest ones were in sub-Saharan Africa and in eastern North America, where it was about 4,500 years ago.Demsas: You’ve just laid out the span of a few thousand years here where, in a bunch of different places across the world, people are independently inventing farming and agriculture. You said in sub-Saharan Africa but also in the Middle East, north and south China, the Andes, Mexico, North America. How do we know that these developments were independent? And what sorts of evidence do we have from archaeology or otherwise that signal when farming began?Matranga: Yeah, absolutely. For some, it’s very easy. Obviously, if you look at eastern North America versus sub-Saharan Africa, these are two populations which had not had any cultural mixture, so clearly those two have to be independent.When you go from, let’s say, south China and north China or the Middle East and sub-Saharan Africa, then it becomes a little bit murkier. Usually, the arguments that are made are that there’s no other signs of cultural contact, in the sense that the pottery styles are different; the crops that are being grown are different. Usually, you would expect that if they start doing barley and emmer wheat in the Middle East—if you thought that farmers had arrived with this knowledge of it into the Sahel region of Africa, you’d expect them to try to do some of those crops first, and then maybe they find some other crops that work better. And instead, it’s sort of completely disjoint. And that’s usually the way that they think about it.Now, could it be that the idea that somebody was farming some distance away made their way through it? It’s possible, though one of the things is that there’s so many populations today, or in the recent past, that when they were contacted, they had knowledge of plant biology. So they understood perfectly well that if you plant a seed, a plant would grow. But they still hadn’t started farming. They were still hunting and gatherers. And so just knowing that it’s possible to do it doesn’t mean that you have a coherent sort of structure and a strategy for doing it as a population. So for example, I know that if you plant a seed, something grows, but that doesn’t mean I could sustain myself as a farmer.Demsas: (Laughs.) Yes.Matranga: So it still seems that, at least in the sort of making all the parts fit together, these things definitely happened independently in these places.Demsas: But for most of human history, we’re talking about—I mean, 12,000 years ago is obviously a long time ago—but we’re talking about hundreds of thousands of years before then, where we’re a hunter-gathering and are nomads. And so this question of why we make this switch as a species is really, really interesting.And before we get into your research, I’m hoping that we can talk through how the field was thinking about the advent of the Neolithic Revolution. And what were some of the prevailing theories about why agriculture emerged after the last Ice Age?Matranga: Absolutely. So one of the things that happened was that, obviously, we didn’t have as many excavations done, let’s say, in 1900 as we have today. And we didn’t have as good, for example, DNA—we didn’t have DNA at all—but DNA sequencing and other stuff like that. We have much more tools. So obviously, then the theories have also kept pace with the new information that was uncovered.If you look at the earliest theories—Darwin talks about this a little bit but also, let’s say, Braidwood—there are mainly theories about the Middle East because that one was the one where people knew that there had been a Neolithic transition. It was the first one to be excavated. And so most of the explanations are particular to the Middle East. And so one of the arguments that was made was that there might have been a climate desiccation, so it became drier around those years. And when it became drier, people were forced into these oases where there was still water. Therefore, once they were sort of constrained to these small areas, then it was easier to start farming and also necessary because there was just much less land that was fertile enough for hunting and gathering. And so you start taking better care about the land that you already have.And then as you go forward, then one of the things that appeared in the 1960s was the fact that, actually, very often the hunter-gatherers seemed to live a life that seemed enviable in a certain way compared to farmers. And what I mean by that is that they didn’t work very long hours. They seemed that most of the time they only had to gather for a few hours a day. And, obviously, there’s an issue there, which is, What do you consider work? So is walking around hoping you’ll find something, but you don’t actually hunt—is that work? Or is it only while you’re actually chasing the animal? So that was one of the issues.And then another issue is: When you’re a hunter-gatherer, the real problem you have is that it’s not so much about how much you eat during the average periods of times, but it’s what you do when things are very bad. And so for an anthropologist who happens to be there in a regular year, it looks like everything is great. But every 10 years, maybe, there’s a really bad year, and there’s a famine, and everybody’s starving. Now, if you don’t happen to be there in the year in which they’re having a famine, then you don’t understand why anybody would like to switch. That would be one of the caveats I would put to that hunter-gatherer issue.And then we get to the 1980s. There was this very important book, very important also for my research, that was [by] Cohen and Armelagos. There was an edited volume from a conference in which they called hunter-gatherers the original affluent society, in the sense that what they find from many studies from many places around the world is that the farmers are actually shorter. The first farmers are shorter, much shorter, sometimes up to 10 centimeters shorter than the last hunter-gatherers. And basically, the first farmers, they get short, and they stay as short as subsistence farmers are to this day, while the hunter-gatherers—only in the last 50 to 100 years have a lot of people become as tall as the last hunter-gatherers.Demsas: Mmm.Matranga: And this was obviously very surprising to them. Basically, it was a continuation of this theory that perhaps it was better when we were hunter-gatherers. And then the question was: Why did they start farming if hunting and gathering was so great? And so there is this other article by Jared Diamond, and he called agriculture “the worst mistake in the history of the human race.” What he thought was it was runaway population growth.And basically, what happens is that people think they know how the world works, so they start farming. And because you start farming, you become sedentary. And once you’re sedentary, you can have a lot more kids. Because if you’re nomadic, of course, if you have to carry your kids around, you’re going to naturally have to space out the births. And so once we become sedentary, we start having so many kids that, actually, we end up worse off than the way that we started. And what I think is interesting there is that there’s a sense in which theories of the Neolithic tend to mirror the political anxieties and the social anxieties of the time in which people came up with them and in which they found favor.So, you know, obviously in the ’80s—WWF, environmentalism, Earth Day—people are worried about runaway population growth. So obviously, in the Neolithic, they must also have had runaway population growth. There’s this interesting mix of the current events bleeding into history, which you can also see with the Roman Empire. So everybody used to think it was because they debased the currency in the ’70s, because there was inflation in the U.S.Demsas: And now it’s immigration. (Laughs.)Matranga: Exactly. And now it’s immigration.Demsas: It’s so surprising, all of a sudden.Matranga: Exactly. So I sometimes tell students that there’s no such thing in history. There’s current events in period costume.Demsas: (Laughs.)Matranga: I’m exaggerating.Demsas: It’s also a way in which our time period allows us to reflect on similarities with previous times. The Diamond one, I think, is particularly interesting. I was reading that 1987 paper. I looked it up. He was born in, like, the 1930s, so he’s in his 20s when the environmentalist and population-ethics concerns really take off. And it’s really striking. He writes, “Recent discoveries suggest that the adoption of agriculture, supposedly our most decisive step toward a better life, was in many ways a catastrophe from which we have never recovered. With agriculture came the gross social and sexual inequality, the disease and despotism, the curse of our existence.”It’s one of those things—I think it’s useful to think through the ways that it’s possible that you may have made a very early mistake. Like, you maybe have reached an optimal point on a mountain, but you climbed a shorter mountain, and you have to go all the way back down to find a taller mountain.But can you walk us through some of the evidence for seeing farming as a decline in living standards? Where is that coming from? I know you mentioned the height thing, but I remember reading there’s something also about increase in violence and other sorts of problems.Matranga: Yes, absolutely. First of all, one of the things I want to just say to begin with is that it’s hard, for example, for things such as violence, in the sense that the selection pressure on archaeological remains from nomads is very different from the selection pressure for the remains of sedentary populations, simply because it’s a lot easier that remains from nomads might be very shallowly buried or not elaborately buried, while, instead, once you become settled, perhaps you have slightly more ornate tombs, which are easier to find, and other things that tend to preserve the remains.Demsas: So we might be missing a bunch of information about the hunter-gatherer period.Matranga: Yes, especially with things like child mortality. A lot of nomadic groups seem to not have considered kids fully humans, basically, until they were a few years old, just because the child mortality was so horrendously high, just through diseases and other things, that perhaps we have very different selective pressures.But one of the other things that for sure we have is joint diseases. So it looks that the farmers were working more, because they tended to have more arthritis. And the joints on which they have arthritis are the ones that we would expect them to have if they were doing a lot of general farm work, digging, that sort of thing.And also the grinding—the daily grind, right? It’s sort of an idiomatic expression because once you have these seeds—if I give you just, like, Oh, you’re hungry? Here’s a bag of unpopped popcorn.Demsas: (Laughs.) Yeah.Matranga: It’s like, What are you going to do with them? You have to put them on a rock and just grind them for hours and hours every day.Demsas: I had no idea where the “daily grind” came from. I didn’t know that’s where it came from.Matranga: Well, I didn’t until I said it.Demsas: (Laughs.) So maybe you made it up. Okay.Matranga: So maybe we can get one of the producers to check it. But it just came to me as I was saying it. I was like, Oh, I guess that’s where that’s from.But to process that in an efficient way is also incredibly labor-intensive, and so their joint diseases reflect that, as well. And they also have something called porotic hyperostosis, which is, like—you get spongy bone tissue. And that is connected to anemia. So it looks like they were missing iron. And so these are some of the ways in which people have assumed that, basically, from almost everything that you could find, it looks like the farmers were actually eating less, on average, than the hunter-gatherers that came before them.[Music]Demsas: After the break: how the history of agriculture is actually a story about low construction costs.[Break]Demsas: So it’s in this backdrop that your research kind of comes in, right? People are assuming that it has to be a forced choice, because it’s obviously worse to have been a farmer than to be a hunter-gatherer.But you have a paper that, I think, really explores and lays out a different way of thinking about things. Before you get into the meat of it, can you tell me about the genesis for the idea? What got you looking at seasonality as a predictor of the Neolithic Revolution?Matranga: Absolutely. This is a little bit like that scene in Forrest Gump where he starts running, and he says, Well, I thought I’d run until the end of the street, and then I got to the end of the street, so I thought I’d just run into town. And 10 years later, he’s still running.So the origin of this was that I visited my mom, and my mom was teaching Italian, as it was, at the University of Isfahan in Iran. And we went to see this ziggurat in Chogha Zanbil, which is one of those step pyramids. And I was trying to take a picture of this pyramid, and it was very hard to get a good contrast between the pyramid and the ground. And then what happened was I realized, Oh, of course, it’s hard because it’s made out of mud bricks. It’s made out of literally the same stuff that it’s sitting on. They compress it into bricks and dry them and then stack them, and that’s the pyramid.And so then I was thinking, Well, why would agriculture originate from an area with very low construction costs? And so the idea was, Well, the reason why you would need low construction costs is because, once you farm, you’re going to get all of your food in one room at one point of the year after the harvest.Demsas: And sorry—you’re saying that it was already established that farming had begun in places with low construction costs, or you came across this idea yourself?Matranga: No. So the typical idea is: It starts here because it’s the Fertile Crescent, and it’s so fertile. And the problem with this theory is that the Fertile Crescent is very fertile if you compare it to, you know, the deserts north and south of it. But it’s not very fertile compared to any other place in the world. So it’s not very different in terms of the types of soil and the rainfall patterns than any other place, for example, on the north coast of the Mediterranean.So the idea was: That’s why it started. That’s why it’s called the Fertile Crescent. And then I realized, Well, isn’t it weird that it happens to also be the place in the world with the lowest construction costs? Because it’s on an alluvial plain, so everything is clay that you can make mud bricks out of. And it doesn’t rain, so that means that it’s not gonna erode it, so you don’t have to bake the bricks, which takes a lot of energy. You just need to sun dry them, stack them, and that’s your building.Then the idea was, Well, why would it be connected that you start agriculture, or at least it blossoms, in a place that has low construction cost? And I thought, One possibility is that they needed to defend their grain stores. So once you’ve harvested all this food, you’ve put it all in a room. Well, now that’s very attractive to any would-be thieves that would like to come and perhaps kill you and steal it. And that was my undergraduate thesis.Then fast-forward a couple of years, and I’m doing a master’s, which later morphed into my Ph.D. at Universitat Pompeu Fabra in Barcelona. And I take this course with Hans-Joachim Voth, who later became my advisor, and it’s an Economic History course. And I tell him about what my undergraduate thesis was. And he tells me, It’s interesting, this idea of storage, because there’s this literature that says that hunter-gatherers were actually better off than farmers. And so it could be that maybe you can do some model where there’s some shocks from year to year, and having the granary helps you smooth out the consumption. And so the granary is also important for this reason. See what you can do with it. And I wrote a little paper for the course, and that was that.From there, then the question was if this is just proof of concept that one of the advantages, that it could be when you start farming, is that you’re able to smooth your consumption. And so that’s why you accept a lower average standard of living, but you don’t get killed by famines when they happen every 10 years or so.Demsas: It’s like insurance. You, as a human, are like, Okay, I’ll accept less food now, but I know I won’t starve in some forthcoming year.Matranga: Exactly. And at that point, the story was still about variation from year to year, so I’m worried about famines. And a while after that, I came upon this paper by a French anthropologist called Alain Testart, and what this paper was about—it wasn’t really about farming. It was more about hunter-gatherers that become sedentary. And this happens.Usually, we associate hunting and gathering with being nomadic, because you’re chasing the game around, or you’re moving up and down the mountains, depending on the seasons. And he said this isn’t really always the case. There’s many cases around the world of hunter-gatherers who are sedentary and have remained sedentary for centuries and millennia without progressing to agriculture.And a classical example of this are the Native American cultures of the Pacific Northwest. And so there they exploited the salmon run. And so there’s all these millions and millions of salmons that want to reach their breeding grounds in the upland streams. And to do that, they have to pass through these rivers. And the Native Americans, they had these elaborate traps with which they capture the sustainably large, but sustainable—obviously, they wanted to let some through so that they’d reproduce a number of salmon. They’d skin them, and they’d smoke them, and they’d dry them. And that way, they had stores of food that would last them until the next salmon run, which is in the fall.And he said, If you look at these groups, they have very hierarchical societies. They have elaborate material cultures. And so they had almost everything that we would associate with a farming community except the farming itself. Of course, the reason why they didn’t develop farming was because—it’s important, you know. The salmon is just a salmon. It’s gonna lay the eggs where it wants, and then it’s gonna go into the sea and live in the North Pacific for a few years, and then it’s gonna come back. That was an example of nomads which became sedentary and remain sedentary for hundreds and thousands of years without having farming.And he said, And what’s crucial is that there’s food which is abundant and seasonal. And that was, like, my aha moment, because we take this story about sedentary hunter-gatherers, and then we could say, Maybe this is the stepping stone between being a nomadic hunter-gatherer and being a sedentary farmer. Because there’s this chicken-and-egg problem. Because if you’re always moving around, then how can you learn how to farm? And instead, if you don’t know how to farm, then why would you become sedentary? Because all the food is moving away. The game is moving away. You’re exhausting your local area, the plants. Why wouldn’t you just move to some other place where there’s more food?Demsas: And you’d need multiple seasons to figure out how to farm appropriately for your region.Matranga: Exactly. And so the idea was, by taking this Testart paper, I could say they would become sedentary first because they want to store food. And once they are sedentary and they’re storing food, then they’re preadapted for discovering agriculture, because storing food and being sedentary are two things you need to know how to do if you’re going to be a farmer. So at least you figured out that part of it before. And you do this because you’re trying to avoid seasonality, as Testart said. And this is when I switched from, instead of the problem being a famine every 15 years or whatever, then the problem is this periodic, predictable famine, which happens every year, which we call winter.And so in order to avoid all starving in winter, we can just sit in one place, gather all these abundant foods in the places where these exist, store them, and then we can process them and eat them as we go along throughout the year, and then the next year we can do the whole thing again. And it was funny because I found this paper—it was a friend of mine’s birthday, and I had to call her and tell her, I’m sorry, but I can’t come, because I found the paper that sort of unlocks everything for me. And I’m just too excited about it, and I wouldn’t be much company.Demsas: Did she forgive you?Matranga: Yes. I mean, she already knew. It was baked into the pie. You know, we’d known each other a while.And so that’s when he moved from, you know, once-in-a-while famine to predictable scarcity, which is seasonality. And from there, then my next step was, why would it be in—because one of the things that’s been observed is that the Neolithic Revolution happens right after the end of the Ice Age. And so the traditional interpretation by a bunch of people was: The Ice Age ends. Before, it’s just too cold to farm in the Middle East, and so nobody was farming there. And then when the Ice Age ends, then there’s the right climate for farming. And then you can farm.And there’s two issues here, I think. And one of them was that if the climate is really good for farming, then it could also be really good for hunting and gathering. There might also be more wild animals. There might also be more wild plants. So it’s not entirely clear to me that a better climate automatically makes things better for farming. So that would be my first point.And the second point is that if all you needed was a warm climate, then why couldn’t you farm during the Ice Age but, like, a thousand miles south of where you farmed when the Ice Age ended? Because it’s not like it was a snowball Earth. If you went to the equator, you know, it was still warm. And so my idea was: What was missing during the Ice Age were locations that were really good in summer but really bad in winter, because the issue with the equator isn’t that it’s too warm. The problem is that it’s warm the whole year-round—Demsas: Yeah, so you would never start farming.Matranga: —and therefore you don’t need to store. And the important thing is you never become sedentary in order to store, which then leads you to not starting to farm. What happens when the Ice Age ends? Now, there’s places that first it was, let’s say, –20 [degrees] in the winter and –5 in the summer. So there is seasonality, but all of the seasonality is below freezing. So it doesn’t really matter. It’s just a frozen hellscape year-round.Well, now, if you think that moves, you know, sort of parallel, both the summer and the winter become warmer. Now you’re going to have a winter which is like –5, which is really bad. But now in the summer, let’s say it’s plus-15. Sorry—this is Celsius. I should have prefaced that. And so, basically, what happens is that now the summer is quite good, while the winter is abysmal.And the question is: How can we exploit these very good summer conditions without getting stuck here in the winter, or without all dying in the winter? And of course, if you’re a stork, then that’s really not a problem, right? You can fly. You can go to this really warm place in the summer, have your nest there, and then in the winter, you just go back to Africa, and that’s perfect. But if you’re humans, and you’re carrying kids with you, then obviously that’s not going to work.And so you cannot migrate your way out of a Northern Hemisphere winter. So their solution was to store food. And so they say, We can move to these places first. During the summer, we gather all the food, and then we can store it and consume it throughout the long winter. And then the next summer, we do that again. And that was sort of, like, my first idea of why it happens right after the end of the Ice Age.Demsas: Okay, so the theory is, basically: The Ice Age ends. There’s more seasonality, meaning that the difference between summer and winter increases, so you have these kind of highly variable seasons that we’re used to now. Then people are then incentivized to store, so that they can store food for the winter. And as they’re remaining stable, they discover farming in order to supplement their diets.Matranga: Exactly. And so the basic idea is: Once you’re sedentary, then, you know, for sure, like—I mean, what is farming? Farming is you’re expending labor in order to increase the amount of food that the land produces. So farming is really on a spectrum. Because a very simple thing you could do is chase away grazing animals so that they don’t eat the fields that you’re going to need in order to get the seed from it during the harvest season. And so that’s, in a sense, farming because you’re expending labor just chasing away the animals, and perhaps then you fence them. And then the next thing you could do is say, Well, last year, a lot of this area was flooded. So I’m going to dig a drainage ditch. And this way, when it rains, you don’t have standing water. The crops don’t rot. And we’re going to have more food the next harvest season. And then you can start doing all of these little things, which, put together, then amount to farming.But I’ll just go back for a second to the seasonality issue, because what I later found out was that, actually, according to this theory by Serbian physicist called Milanković, it’s actually increases in seasonality which make the Ice Age end. And so what happens is that Earth’s axis is tilted—and famously, this is what causes the seasons—but sometimes it’s more tilted, and sometimes it’s less tilted. And there’s also other variations in Earth’s orbital parameters, and these influence the amount of seasonality that you have in the Northern Hemisphere and in the Southern Hemisphere. And so it’s not really that it was just the end of the Ice Age which caused seasonality to increase, but really there was this big increase in seasonality, which caused the Ice Age to end and also caused the start of agriculture.Demsas: I would expect that there would have been farming that could come in and out of vogue. I’m curious why we don’t see that in your findings.Matranga: I completely think that farming probably happened on some hillside 70,000 years ago and on some other hillside 30,000 years ago and some other place 15,000 years ago. And, you know, what I find really interesting and important about farming isn’t so much the fact that they did it once. It’s the fact that it’s a model which is able of spreading.If it was just something that happened once on one hillside and then stayed there—or perhaps, you know, like the salmon run in the Pacific Northwest—that’s a fantastic accomplishment by the population that does it, but it doesn’t transform the world. Because you cannot take those salmon, bring them to a river in Iowa, and then, you know, just replicate your community in some other place. What’s special about farming is that it does sort of spread, and that it does eventually occupy most of the landmass of the world. And so it’s sort of what I call a franchisable model. It’s not just something that works in one place. You can copy-paste it all over the place.And so I think it probably happened on some hill, but that’s not super interesting. It would be super interesting, of course, from an anthropological aspect, to find that one hillside where it happened 30,000 years ago. But that didn’t change the history of the world, clearly.I think, in order to have that, you have to have a wide area in which there’s a lot of seasonality so that when somebody invents, first, you know, storage and sedentarism and then agriculture, then they’re able to take this packet of seeds, bring it to another place, give it to their kids. Their kids can found a colony. Perhaps they displace the local population. Perhaps they intermarry with it, perhaps not a lot of people. You know, I’m sure all three happened in different places at different times. And then their kids can do it in another place, and so you can colonize other places with this technology, or other people can copy this technology and do it in other places. And in order to have this, I think you need both the seasonality but, also, it needs to be on a wide enough area that it’s instantly appealing to everybody because they think, This is just what we’ve been waiting for, a chance to not all starve every February.Demsas: Hopefully you can unpack why it was such a dominant strategy, right? Because you write in your paper, “Our ancestors traded a risky but abundant lifestyle for a more stable but less prosperous one, driven by risk aversion, particularly among populations near subsistence levels.” And I would imagine that you would expect to see variation based on different populations’ risk tolerance and also desire to kind of smooth their consumption. And also, it seems like there’d be a real free rider problem. Like, nomads could just go around just attacking sedentary populations, taking their food, and moving on. So it’s interesting to me that it ended up being such a dominant strategy to stay put.Matranga: Yeah, so in terms of, obviously, the risk of raids, I think that would go back to my undergraduate thesis of sort of the importance of having some way of defending. So the first places that do this are actually, like, these hillsides—Jarmo, for example, was an early one—that are very steep on all sides. And, you know, the point is that with that, you kind of need a very specific land conformation, where it’s just the right shape of a hill, and there’s water, and there’s fields close to it, and there’s a way to get from the fields to the hill. And, you know, how many hillsides like that can you find? So the convenient thing is: Once you invent fortifications, then you can build a wall, and so build your own quote-unquote hill in the middle of the fertile plain, which is what they do with sort of Mesopotamia.So that’s one aspect to it. The other one is that some people remain nomadic for a very long time, usually because either it’s too cold, the growing season is too short, or otherwise the rainfall is too low, and so they’re not able to farm, and the only way that they can survive in a viable number of people is by constantly moving around. But what they usually do, at that point, is they become pastoralists.One way of seeing this is that it’s not just a matter of risk aversion, because in the end, if your risk aversion, high or low that it is—let’s say that you’re a complete nervous Nellie. You don’t want to take any risk, and you just eat grubs from under a stone, because you never want to leave your immediate area. Well, you’re probably not going to reproduce very fast, which means that either some neighbors that accepted a little bit more risk and have much higher average amount of food have more kids than you, and they can displace you, or even if you somehow intermarry with them, probably they’re not gonna accept your viewpoint on risk aversion. So the risk aversion, in the end, is something which leads you to make some choices, and these choices have some effects on the viability of your group.Demsas: Yeah. I feel like the fertility question is really interesting here because it’s both that once you begin farming, you have to send your kids out to go farm themselves, but it increases the number of children that are born, too, that survive?Matranga: I would say both. When you’re walking, when you’re nomadic, in principle, you cannot have more than one kid per parent, because somebody has to carry them, at least when they are, you know, below 6—because 6-year-olds can walk, but they can’t walk as fast as grown-ups.The second aspect of this is that there’s so many diseases where if you could just stay in a place that’s warm for a couple of weeks, the kid would be fine. But if you’re in the middle of your migration, that’s it.And the other thing is that when you’re constantly breastfeeding and moving around, you’re probably not gonna put on a lot of weight. And it would appear that a lot of hunter-gatherer women would take a few years to even be fertile again. Because they just would not achieve that—I forget if it’s 15 or 18 percent or—whatever the number is of body fat where your body can even conceive.So absolutely, when you become sedentary, you can have more kids. And I think even if you want to remain nomadic, if there’s these farmers which are having way more kids than you survive, then if there’s ever any conflict—maybe now, maybe in two centuries—then very likely, the farmers are going to get their way.Demsas: I’m curious about us returning to what you started this conversation with, which is the question about whether or not it was a good idea for us to move out of the hunter-gatherer stage to the farming stage. Because your paper has something to say, also, about whether we’re over-reading the evidence about humans being worse off nutritionally when they become farmers. So what’s your pushback on this question about, Maybe nutrition was actually improved once you become a farmer?Matranga: Yes, absolutely. It’s interesting because the first concrete evidence of anything that I found in support of my thesis was what I’m about to tell you. And it’s something called “Harris lines.” So Harris was a pathologist. I believe that one of his kids had a pretty severe disease. For some reason, he saw an X-ray of his kid, and he noticed that he had this line in their bones, sort of a transverse line. So, you know, like, not in the direction of the bone—kind of like a tree ring along the growth.And so then he explored this more, and he found out that when there is an episode of growth arrest of a child that is growing normally, then—for example, this could be a disease, or it could be that you’re not eating—and so there’s what’s called a “metabolic insult.” Your metabolism is not producing enough energy to both keep you alive while growing, and so then you have growth arrest.And then when you start eating well again, or the disease passes, then there’s something called catch-up growth. So the body actually grows faster, because it’s trying to get back on the growth curve that it was on originally. And as it’s growing faster, it deposits this different kind of bone, which you can see from X-rays. And so it’s a little bit like a tree ring, but for mammals.And the interesting thing is that from that same Cohen and Armelagos 1984 book, Paleopathology at the Origins of Agriculture, it also looks like the hunter-gatherers had—they were taller, up to 10 centimeters taller, but they also had—way more of these Harris lines, or growth-arrest lines, in their bones, sometimes as many as six per individual, on average, in some populations. And they also appeared to be evenly spaced, just like tree rings. And so to them, this suggested that almost every year, there would be a period of famine.And so it really looks like it was this insurance trade-off that you mentioned before, which is that, you know: The hunter-gatherers, they ate a lot, but for a few months, at least, every year, it looks like they were starving, while the farmers, they ate less, on average, but they always ate. They were able to smooth their consumption from summer to winter, logically.And I think that one of the reasons this had not been proposed before was because as sedentary people with bank accounts and granaries, you know, usually our problems are not about, like, I’m eating a lot this week, but what am I going to eat next week? But if you are a nomad, and you’re not able to store food, then that, I think, would be the dominant concern, and I think that’s why we accepted this trade-off. Like, Sure, we’re just going to be shorter. That’s fine. But, you know, at least we don’t starve for a couple of months every year.Demsas: So you think this is the correct trade-off? You don’t buy the thesis that we made a mistake?Matranga: No, no. I think we did a great trade-off. In fact, I think that part of the problem with, even, development goals—they tend to be phrased in terms of averages. We would like people to make, at least, $5 or $10 a day, on average, throughout the year. And then how can we get them to invest? Or how can we take them to become entrepreneurial and so on? But when you’re this close to starvation, I think that the average, obviously, you think about it, as well. But what you’re really worried about is, What am I going to eat in the worst possible case that could happen to me within the next 30 years?Because the way that they survived as a population through the centuries was by taking the worst case into possibility. If I take a statistic of a country, and I measure their income every year, and for 25 years, it’s quite good, and then they all die in the 26th year, the average income is still very good, but that’s a complete disaster for the population involved.And so if anything, I think that our way of measuring success is, again, predicated on the fact that we do have insurance, and we do have bank accounts, and we do have granaries. And so our worries are more about averages, while if you are a hunter-gatherer, your life is dominated by the worst outcome. And I think it was a correct choice. In fact, it was so correct that we forgot how awful it is to be eating a whole wildebeest that you killed and still be worried about what you’re going to eat next week.Demsas: Well, Andrea, always our final question: What is something that you thought was a good idea at the time but ended up only being good on paper?Matranga: As a personal anecdote, I’d spent a lot of time figuring out a good way to move to the U.S. And I loved my time in the U.S., but then I realized that moving continents is very difficult when you still have family back home. And the things that you like and that you think you’re going to enjoy when you’re 25 and don’t have kids, then once you have a family, you have to move backwards and forwards and all the summer stuff, then it starts to wear on you.So I just realized, after being incredibly internationally minded, I still love traveling and visiting places, but I became much more homeward bound in my aspirations as time went by.Demsas: Yeah. Well, Andrea, thank you so much for coming on the show.Matranga: Absolutely. My absolute pleasure. Anytime.[Music]Demsas: Good on Paper is produced by Jinae West. It was edited by Dave Shaw, fact-checked by Ena Alvarado, and engineered by Erica Huang. Our theme music is composed by Rob Smierciak. Claudine Ebeid is the executive producer of Atlantic audio. Andrea Valdez is our managing editor.And hey, if you like what you’re hearing, please leave us a rating and review on Apple Podcasts.I’m Jerusalem Demsas, and we’ll see you next week.[Music]Matranga: So it was funny, because if you had asked me, What would you say is good on paper? And I was ready to say, Well, for all my office and copier paper needs, I use Dunder Mifflin, the paper supplier. But the setup—Demsas: The setup was too different? You were going to go with Dunder Mifflin? That’s so funny.

Should we be jealous of our hunter-gatherer ancestors?

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After 200,000 years of hunting and gathering, a history-defining decision was made. Starting roughly 12,000 years ago, at least seven different groups of humans independently began to settle down and begin farming. In so doing, they planted the seeds for modern civilization. This is traditionally told as a straightforward story of human progress. After humans made the switch, population growth increased, spurring innovative and creative endeavors that our ancestors couldn’t even imagine.

One counterintuitive strain of thought has treated this decision as “the worst mistake in the history of the human race,” as the popular author Jared Diamond once put it. The argument largely rests on research that shows our nomadic forebears were healthier and had more leisure time than those who chose to farm. Diamond, who wrote this article in 1987, when overpopulation concerns were rampant within the American environmental movement, argued that, “forced to choose between limiting population or trying to increase food production, we chose the latter and ended up with starvation, warfare, and tyranny.”

Sometimes unorthodox ideas are unorthodox for a reason. On today’s episode of Good on Paper, I’m joined by Andrea Matranga, an economist whose recent paper “The Ant and the Grasshopper: Seasonality and the Invention of Agriculture” argues that the Neolithic revolution happened as a result of climactic changes that necessitated storing food for the winter. Matranga rejects the idea that the past 12,000 years of human development were a mistake, one that underrates the threats of famine and starvation endemic to nomadic life.

“There’s a sense in which theories of the Neolithic tend to mirror the political anxieties and the social anxieties of the time in which people came up with them and in which they found favor,” Matranga tells me. “So, you know, obviously in the ’80s—WWF, environmentalism, Earth Day—people are worried about runaway population growth. So obviously in the Neolithic, they must also have had runaway population growth. There’s this interesting mix of the current events bleeding into history.”


The following is a transcript of the episode:

[Music]

Jerusalem Demsas: One of Aesop’s Fables is called “The Ant and the Grasshopper.” As the story goes, a hungry grasshopper comes up to a group of ants in the wintertime and asks them for some food to eat. They are shocked and ask him why he hasn’t stored anything up before the weather got cold. And he replies that he’d eaten well during the summer and made music while the weather was warm. The moral of the story is pretty straightforward: Save while times are good.

But for most of human history, for 200,000 years, humanity was much more like the grasshopper than the ants. As hunter-gatherers, we ate well when resources were plentiful but didn’t save for winter, making us susceptible to starvation and death.

But then something changed. Around the world, within a relatively short period of time, a bunch of humans independently began farming—and kept farming. How did this happen?

[Music]

My name’s Jerusalem Demsas. I’m a staff writer here at The Atlantic, and this is Good on Paper. It’s a policy show that questions what we really know about popular narratives.

In a paper called “The Ant and the Grasshopper: Seasonality and the Invention of Agriculture,” economist Andrea Matranga formalizes a theory for how humans went from grasshoppers to ants—for how we went from hunting and gathering to settled farming.

Climate seasonality increased, meaning winters got harsher and summers got drier. Hunter-gatherers couldn’t keep up with wildlife that fled for warmer climates. Birds can fly south for winters. Humans can’t. So they realized they needed to start storing food during good times. That meant the end of our nomadic lifestyles because people had to remain near those stores.

This paper intervenes in the literature in a couple of important ways I explored with Andrea: First, it helps untangle the mystery of how humans became farmers to begin with. But second, it pushes back against the strangely nostalgic idea that our nomadic existence was somehow better than farming—an idea that holds sway among a surprising number of people.

Let’s dive in.

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Demsas: Andrea, welcome to the show.

Andrea Matranga: Thank you so much. Thank you for having me.

Demsas: Yeah. So we’re here to talk about a very fun new paper that you’ve recently published at [The Quarterly Journal of Economics], and it’s about the Neolithic Revolution. We’re trying to go all the way back in time. We’ve done some development episodes, but this is further back than I think we’ve ever, ever gone.

I want to start with what the Neolithic Revolution was. Can you set the stage for us?

Matranga: Yes, absolutely. Neolithic means “new stone,” and it was first detected as a change in the shape of the stone tools that they were using. And then, eventually, they realized that the reason they changed the shape of the tools was also because they changed the subsistence method, meaning that before that—in the Paleolithic, in the Old Stone Age—everybody was a hunter-gatherer, meaning that they were subsisting on foods that grew wild, which they would collect, process, and consume. And then in the Neolithic, or New Stone Age, they started to grow their own food. So the origins of agriculture is what distinguishes the paleo from the Neolithic.

Demsas: And around how long ago are we talking?

Matranga: It was about 11,500 years ago in the Middle East. And there were seven of these places, and the two latest ones were in sub-Saharan Africa and in eastern North America, where it was about 4,500 years ago.

Demsas: You’ve just laid out the span of a few thousand years here where, in a bunch of different places across the world, people are independently inventing farming and agriculture. You said in sub-Saharan Africa but also in the Middle East, north and south China, the Andes, Mexico, North America. How do we know that these developments were independent? And what sorts of evidence do we have from archaeology or otherwise that signal when farming began?

Matranga: Yeah, absolutely. For some, it’s very easy. Obviously, if you look at eastern North America versus sub-Saharan Africa, these are two populations which had not had any cultural mixture, so clearly those two have to be independent.

When you go from, let’s say, south China and north China or the Middle East and sub-Saharan Africa, then it becomes a little bit murkier. Usually, the arguments that are made are that there’s no other signs of cultural contact, in the sense that the pottery styles are different; the crops that are being grown are different. Usually, you would expect that if they start doing barley and emmer wheat in the Middle East—if you thought that farmers had arrived with this knowledge of it into the Sahel region of Africa, you’d expect them to try to do some of those crops first, and then maybe they find some other crops that work better. And instead, it’s sort of completely disjoint. And that’s usually the way that they think about it.

Now, could it be that the idea that somebody was farming some distance away made their way through it? It’s possible, though one of the things is that there’s so many populations today, or in the recent past, that when they were contacted, they had knowledge of plant biology. So they understood perfectly well that if you plant a seed, a plant would grow. But they still hadn’t started farming. They were still hunting and gatherers. And so just knowing that it’s possible to do it doesn’t mean that you have a coherent sort of structure and a strategy for doing it as a population. So for example, I know that if you plant a seed, something grows, but that doesn’t mean I could sustain myself as a farmer.

Demsas: (Laughs.) Yes.

Matranga: So it still seems that, at least in the sort of making all the parts fit together, these things definitely happened independently in these places.

Demsas: But for most of human history, we’re talking about—I mean, 12,000 years ago is obviously a long time ago—but we’re talking about hundreds of thousands of years before then, where we’re a hunter-gathering and are nomads. And so this question of why we make this switch as a species is really, really interesting.

And before we get into your research, I’m hoping that we can talk through how the field was thinking about the advent of the Neolithic Revolution. And what were some of the prevailing theories about why agriculture emerged after the last Ice Age?

Matranga: Absolutely. So one of the things that happened was that, obviously, we didn’t have as many excavations done, let’s say, in 1900 as we have today. And we didn’t have as good, for example, DNA—we didn’t have DNA at all—but DNA sequencing and other stuff like that. We have much more tools. So obviously, then the theories have also kept pace with the new information that was uncovered.

If you look at the earliest theories—Darwin talks about this a little bit but also, let’s say, Braidwood—there are mainly theories about the Middle East because that one was the one where people knew that there had been a Neolithic transition. It was the first one to be excavated. And so most of the explanations are particular to the Middle East. And so one of the arguments that was made was that there might have been a climate desiccation, so it became drier around those years. And when it became drier, people were forced into these oases where there was still water. Therefore, once they were sort of constrained to these small areas, then it was easier to start farming and also necessary because there was just much less land that was fertile enough for hunting and gathering. And so you start taking better care about the land that you already have.

And then as you go forward, then one of the things that appeared in the 1960s was the fact that, actually, very often the hunter-gatherers seemed to live a life that seemed enviable in a certain way compared to farmers. And what I mean by that is that they didn’t work very long hours. They seemed that most of the time they only had to gather for a few hours a day. And, obviously, there’s an issue there, which is, What do you consider work? So is walking around hoping you’ll find something, but you don’t actually hunt—is that work? Or is it only while you’re actually chasing the animal? So that was one of the issues.

And then another issue is: When you’re a hunter-gatherer, the real problem you have is that it’s not so much about how much you eat during the average periods of times, but it’s what you do when things are very bad. And so for an anthropologist who happens to be there in a regular year, it looks like everything is great. But every 10 years, maybe, there’s a really bad year, and there’s a famine, and everybody’s starving. Now, if you don’t happen to be there in the year in which they’re having a famine, then you don’t understand why anybody would like to switch. That would be one of the caveats I would put to that hunter-gatherer issue.

And then we get to the 1980s. There was this very important book, very important also for my research, that was [by] Cohen and Armelagos. There was an edited volume from a conference in which they called hunter-gatherers the original affluent society, in the sense that what they find from many studies from many places around the world is that the farmers are actually shorter. The first farmers are shorter, much shorter, sometimes up to 10 centimeters shorter than the last hunter-gatherers. And basically, the first farmers, they get short, and they stay as short as subsistence farmers are to this day, while the hunter-gatherers—only in the last 50 to 100 years have a lot of people become as tall as the last hunter-gatherers.

Demsas: Mmm.

Matranga: And this was obviously very surprising to them. Basically, it was a continuation of this theory that perhaps it was better when we were hunter-gatherers. And then the question was: Why did they start farming if hunting and gathering was so great? And so there is this other article by Jared Diamond, and he called agriculture “the worst mistake in the history of the human race.” What he thought was it was runaway population growth.

And basically, what happens is that people think they know how the world works, so they start farming. And because you start farming, you become sedentary. And once you’re sedentary, you can have a lot more kids. Because if you’re nomadic, of course, if you have to carry your kids around, you’re going to naturally have to space out the births. And so once we become sedentary, we start having so many kids that, actually, we end up worse off than the way that we started. And what I think is interesting there is that there’s a sense in which theories of the Neolithic tend to mirror the political anxieties and the social anxieties of the time in which people came up with them and in which they found favor.

So, you know, obviously in the ’80s—WWF, environmentalism, Earth Day—people are worried about runaway population growth. So obviously, in the Neolithic, they must also have had runaway population growth. There’s this interesting mix of the current events bleeding into history, which you can also see with the Roman Empire. So everybody used to think it was because they debased the currency in the ’70s, because there was inflation in the U.S.

Demsas: And now it’s immigration. (Laughs.)

Matranga: Exactly. And now it’s immigration.

Demsas: It’s so surprising, all of a sudden.

Matranga: Exactly. So I sometimes tell students that there’s no such thing in history. There’s current events in period costume.

Demsas: (Laughs.)

Matranga: I’m exaggerating.

Demsas: It’s also a way in which our time period allows us to reflect on similarities with previous times. The Diamond one, I think, is particularly interesting. I was reading that 1987 paper. I looked it up. He was born in, like, the 1930s, so he’s in his 20s when the environmentalist and population-ethics concerns really take off. And it’s really striking. He writes, “Recent discoveries suggest that the adoption of agriculture, supposedly our most decisive step toward a better life, was in many ways a catastrophe from which we have never recovered. With agriculture came the gross social and sexual inequality, the disease and despotism, the curse of our existence.”

It’s one of those things—I think it’s useful to think through the ways that it’s possible that you may have made a very early mistake. Like, you maybe have reached an optimal point on a mountain, but you climbed a shorter mountain, and you have to go all the way back down to find a taller mountain.

But can you walk us through some of the evidence for seeing farming as a decline in living standards? Where is that coming from? I know you mentioned the height thing, but I remember reading there’s something also about increase in violence and other sorts of problems.

Matranga: Yes, absolutely. First of all, one of the things I want to just say to begin with is that it’s hard, for example, for things such as violence, in the sense that the selection pressure on archaeological remains from nomads is very different from the selection pressure for the remains of sedentary populations, simply because it’s a lot easier that remains from nomads might be very shallowly buried or not elaborately buried, while, instead, once you become settled, perhaps you have slightly more ornate tombs, which are easier to find, and other things that tend to preserve the remains.

Demsas: So we might be missing a bunch of information about the hunter-gatherer period.

Matranga: Yes, especially with things like child mortality. A lot of nomadic groups seem to not have considered kids fully humans, basically, until they were a few years old, just because the child mortality was so horrendously high, just through diseases and other things, that perhaps we have very different selective pressures.

But one of the other things that for sure we have is joint diseases. So it looks that the farmers were working more, because they tended to have more arthritis. And the joints on which they have arthritis are the ones that we would expect them to have if they were doing a lot of general farm work, digging, that sort of thing.

And also the grinding—the daily grind, right? It’s sort of an idiomatic expression because once you have these seeds—if I give you just, like, Oh, you’re hungry? Here’s a bag of unpopped popcorn.

Demsas: (Laughs.) Yeah.

Matranga: It’s like, What are you going to do with them? You have to put them on a rock and just grind them for hours and hours every day.

Demsas: I had no idea where the “daily grind” came from. I didn’t know that’s where it came from.

Matranga: Well, I didn’t until I said it.

Demsas: (Laughs.) So maybe you made it up. Okay.

Matranga: So maybe we can get one of the producers to check it. But it just came to me as I was saying it. I was like, Oh, I guess that’s where that’s from.

But to process that in an efficient way is also incredibly labor-intensive, and so their joint diseases reflect that, as well. And they also have something called porotic hyperostosis, which is, like—you get spongy bone tissue. And that is connected to anemia. So it looks like they were missing iron. And so these are some of the ways in which people have assumed that, basically, from almost everything that you could find, it looks like the farmers were actually eating less, on average, than the hunter-gatherers that came before them.

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Demsas: After the break: how the history of agriculture is actually a story about low construction costs.

[Break]

Demsas: So it’s in this backdrop that your research kind of comes in, right? People are assuming that it has to be a forced choice, because it’s obviously worse to have been a farmer than to be a hunter-gatherer.

But you have a paper that, I think, really explores and lays out a different way of thinking about things. Before you get into the meat of it, can you tell me about the genesis for the idea? What got you looking at seasonality as a predictor of the Neolithic Revolution?

Matranga: Absolutely. This is a little bit like that scene in Forrest Gump where he starts running, and he says, Well, I thought I’d run until the end of the street, and then I got to the end of the street, so I thought I’d just run into town. And 10 years later, he’s still running.

So the origin of this was that I visited my mom, and my mom was teaching Italian, as it was, at the University of Isfahan in Iran. And we went to see this ziggurat in Chogha Zanbil, which is one of those step pyramids. And I was trying to take a picture of this pyramid, and it was very hard to get a good contrast between the pyramid and the ground. And then what happened was I realized, Oh, of course, it’s hard because it’s made out of mud bricks. It’s made out of literally the same stuff that it’s sitting on. They compress it into bricks and dry them and then stack them, and that’s the pyramid.

And so then I was thinking, Well, why would agriculture originate from an area with very low construction costs? And so the idea was, Well, the reason why you would need low construction costs is because, once you farm, you’re going to get all of your food in one room at one point of the year after the harvest.

Demsas: And sorry—you’re saying that it was already established that farming had begun in places with low construction costs, or you came across this idea yourself?

Matranga: No. So the typical idea is: It starts here because it’s the Fertile Crescent, and it’s so fertile. And the problem with this theory is that the Fertile Crescent is very fertile if you compare it to, you know, the deserts north and south of it. But it’s not very fertile compared to any other place in the world. So it’s not very different in terms of the types of soil and the rainfall patterns than any other place, for example, on the north coast of the Mediterranean.

So the idea was: That’s why it started. That’s why it’s called the Fertile Crescent. And then I realized, Well, isn’t it weird that it happens to also be the place in the world with the lowest construction costs? Because it’s on an alluvial plain, so everything is clay that you can make mud bricks out of. And it doesn’t rain, so that means that it’s not gonna erode it, so you don’t have to bake the bricks, which takes a lot of energy. You just need to sun dry them, stack them, and that’s your building.

Then the idea was, Well, why would it be connected that you start agriculture, or at least it blossoms, in a place that has low construction cost? And I thought, One possibility is that they needed to defend their grain stores. So once you’ve harvested all this food, you’ve put it all in a room. Well, now that’s very attractive to any would-be thieves that would like to come and perhaps kill you and steal it. And that was my undergraduate thesis.

Then fast-forward a couple of years, and I’m doing a master’s, which later morphed into my Ph.D. at Universitat Pompeu Fabra in Barcelona. And I take this course with Hans-Joachim Voth, who later became my advisor, and it’s an Economic History course. And I tell him about what my undergraduate thesis was. And he tells me, It’s interesting, this idea of storage, because there’s this literature that says that hunter-gatherers were actually better off than farmers. And so it could be that maybe you can do some model where there’s some shocks from year to year, and having the granary helps you smooth out the consumption. And so the granary is also important for this reason. See what you can do with it. And I wrote a little paper for the course, and that was that.

From there, then the question was if this is just proof of concept that one of the advantages, that it could be when you start farming, is that you’re able to smooth your consumption. And so that’s why you accept a lower average standard of living, but you don’t get killed by famines when they happen every 10 years or so.

Demsas: It’s like insurance. You, as a human, are like, Okay, I’ll accept less food now, but I know I won’t starve in some forthcoming year.

Matranga: Exactly. And at that point, the story was still about variation from year to year, so I’m worried about famines. And a while after that, I came upon this paper by a French anthropologist called Alain Testart, and what this paper was about—it wasn’t really about farming. It was more about hunter-gatherers that become sedentary. And this happens.

Usually, we associate hunting and gathering with being nomadic, because you’re chasing the game around, or you’re moving up and down the mountains, depending on the seasons. And he said this isn’t really always the case. There’s many cases around the world of hunter-gatherers who are sedentary and have remained sedentary for centuries and millennia without progressing to agriculture.

And a classical example of this are the Native American cultures of the Pacific Northwest. And so there they exploited the salmon run. And so there’s all these millions and millions of salmons that want to reach their breeding grounds in the upland streams. And to do that, they have to pass through these rivers. And the Native Americans, they had these elaborate traps with which they capture the sustainably large, but sustainable—obviously, they wanted to let some through so that they’d reproduce a number of salmon. They’d skin them, and they’d smoke them, and they’d dry them. And that way, they had stores of food that would last them until the next salmon run, which is in the fall.

And he said, If you look at these groups, they have very hierarchical societies. They have elaborate material cultures. And so they had almost everything that we would associate with a farming community except the farming itself. Of course, the reason why they didn’t develop farming was because—it’s important, you know. The salmon is just a salmon. It’s gonna lay the eggs where it wants, and then it’s gonna go into the sea and live in the North Pacific for a few years, and then it’s gonna come back. That was an example of nomads which became sedentary and remain sedentary for hundreds and thousands of years without having farming.

And he said, And what’s crucial is that there’s food which is abundant and seasonal. And that was, like, my aha moment, because we take this story about sedentary hunter-gatherers, and then we could say, Maybe this is the stepping stone between being a nomadic hunter-gatherer and being a sedentary farmer. Because there’s this chicken-and-egg problem. Because if you’re always moving around, then how can you learn how to farm? And instead, if you don’t know how to farm, then why would you become sedentary? Because all the food is moving away. The game is moving away. You’re exhausting your local area, the plants. Why wouldn’t you just move to some other place where there’s more food?

Demsas: And you’d need multiple seasons to figure out how to farm appropriately for your region.

Matranga: Exactly. And so the idea was, by taking this Testart paper, I could say they would become sedentary first because they want to store food. And once they are sedentary and they’re storing food, then they’re preadapted for discovering agriculture, because storing food and being sedentary are two things you need to know how to do if you’re going to be a farmer. So at least you figured out that part of it before. And you do this because you’re trying to avoid seasonality, as Testart said. And this is when I switched from, instead of the problem being a famine every 15 years or whatever, then the problem is this periodic, predictable famine, which happens every year, which we call winter.

And so in order to avoid all starving in winter, we can just sit in one place, gather all these abundant foods in the places where these exist, store them, and then we can process them and eat them as we go along throughout the year, and then the next year we can do the whole thing again. And it was funny because I found this paper—it was a friend of mine’s birthday, and I had to call her and tell her, I’m sorry, but I can’t come, because I found the paper that sort of unlocks everything for me. And I’m just too excited about it, and I wouldn’t be much company.

Demsas: Did she forgive you?

Matranga: Yes. I mean, she already knew. It was baked into the pie. You know, we’d known each other a while.

And so that’s when he moved from, you know, once-in-a-while famine to predictable scarcity, which is seasonality. And from there, then my next step was, why would it be in—because one of the things that’s been observed is that the Neolithic Revolution happens right after the end of the Ice Age. And so the traditional interpretation by a bunch of people was: The Ice Age ends. Before, it’s just too cold to farm in the Middle East, and so nobody was farming there. And then when the Ice Age ends, then there’s the right climate for farming. And then you can farm.

And there’s two issues here, I think. And one of them was that if the climate is really good for farming, then it could also be really good for hunting and gathering. There might also be more wild animals. There might also be more wild plants. So it’s not entirely clear to me that a better climate automatically makes things better for farming. So that would be my first point.

And the second point is that if all you needed was a warm climate, then why couldn’t you farm during the Ice Age but, like, a thousand miles south of where you farmed when the Ice Age ended? Because it’s not like it was a snowball Earth. If you went to the equator, you know, it was still warm. And so my idea was: What was missing during the Ice Age were locations that were really good in summer but really bad in winter, because the issue with the equator isn’t that it’s too warm. The problem is that it’s warm the whole year-round—

Demsas: Yeah, so you would never start farming.

Matranga: —and therefore you don’t need to store. And the important thing is you never become sedentary in order to store, which then leads you to not starting to farm. What happens when the Ice Age ends? Now, there’s places that first it was, let’s say, –20 [degrees] in the winter and –5 in the summer. So there is seasonality, but all of the seasonality is below freezing. So it doesn’t really matter. It’s just a frozen hellscape year-round.

Well, now, if you think that moves, you know, sort of parallel, both the summer and the winter become warmer. Now you’re going to have a winter which is like –5, which is really bad. But now in the summer, let’s say it’s plus-15. Sorry—this is Celsius. I should have prefaced that. And so, basically, what happens is that now the summer is quite good, while the winter is abysmal.

And the question is: How can we exploit these very good summer conditions without getting stuck here in the winter, or without all dying in the winter? And of course, if you’re a stork, then that’s really not a problem, right? You can fly. You can go to this really warm place in the summer, have your nest there, and then in the winter, you just go back to Africa, and that’s perfect. But if you’re humans, and you’re carrying kids with you, then obviously that’s not going to work.

And so you cannot migrate your way out of a Northern Hemisphere winter. So their solution was to store food. And so they say, We can move to these places first. During the summer, we gather all the food, and then we can store it and consume it throughout the long winter. And then the next summer, we do that again. And that was sort of, like, my first idea of why it happens right after the end of the Ice Age.

Demsas: Okay, so the theory is, basically: The Ice Age ends. There’s more seasonality, meaning that the difference between summer and winter increases, so you have these kind of highly variable seasons that we’re used to now. Then people are then incentivized to store, so that they can store food for the winter. And as they’re remaining stable, they discover farming in order to supplement their diets.

Matranga: Exactly. And so the basic idea is: Once you’re sedentary, then, you know, for sure, like—I mean, what is farming? Farming is you’re expending labor in order to increase the amount of food that the land produces. So farming is really on a spectrum. Because a very simple thing you could do is chase away grazing animals so that they don’t eat the fields that you’re going to need in order to get the seed from it during the harvest season. And so that’s, in a sense, farming because you’re expending labor just chasing away the animals, and perhaps then you fence them. And then the next thing you could do is say, Well, last year, a lot of this area was flooded. So I’m going to dig a drainage ditch. And this way, when it rains, you don’t have standing water. The crops don’t rot. And we’re going to have more food the next harvest season. And then you can start doing all of these little things, which, put together, then amount to farming.

But I’ll just go back for a second to the seasonality issue, because what I later found out was that, actually, according to this theory by Serbian physicist called Milanković, it’s actually increases in seasonality which make the Ice Age end. And so what happens is that Earth’s axis is tilted—and famously, this is what causes the seasons—but sometimes it’s more tilted, and sometimes it’s less tilted. And there’s also other variations in Earth’s orbital parameters, and these influence the amount of seasonality that you have in the Northern Hemisphere and in the Southern Hemisphere. And so it’s not really that it was just the end of the Ice Age which caused seasonality to increase, but really there was this big increase in seasonality, which caused the Ice Age to end and also caused the start of agriculture.

Demsas: I would expect that there would have been farming that could come in and out of vogue. I’m curious why we don’t see that in your findings.

Matranga: I completely think that farming probably happened on some hillside 70,000 years ago and on some other hillside 30,000 years ago and some other place 15,000 years ago. And, you know, what I find really interesting and important about farming isn’t so much the fact that they did it once. It’s the fact that it’s a model which is able of spreading.

If it was just something that happened once on one hillside and then stayed there—or perhaps, you know, like the salmon run in the Pacific Northwest—that’s a fantastic accomplishment by the population that does it, but it doesn’t transform the world. Because you cannot take those salmon, bring them to a river in Iowa, and then, you know, just replicate your community in some other place. What’s special about farming is that it does sort of spread, and that it does eventually occupy most of the landmass of the world. And so it’s sort of what I call a franchisable model. It’s not just something that works in one place. You can copy-paste it all over the place.

And so I think it probably happened on some hill, but that’s not super interesting. It would be super interesting, of course, from an anthropological aspect, to find that one hillside where it happened 30,000 years ago. But that didn’t change the history of the world, clearly.

I think, in order to have that, you have to have a wide area in which there’s a lot of seasonality so that when somebody invents, first, you know, storage and sedentarism and then agriculture, then they’re able to take this packet of seeds, bring it to another place, give it to their kids. Their kids can found a colony. Perhaps they displace the local population. Perhaps they intermarry with it, perhaps not a lot of people. You know, I’m sure all three happened in different places at different times. And then their kids can do it in another place, and so you can colonize other places with this technology, or other people can copy this technology and do it in other places. And in order to have this, I think you need both the seasonality but, also, it needs to be on a wide enough area that it’s instantly appealing to everybody because they think, This is just what we’ve been waiting for, a chance to not all starve every February.

Demsas: Hopefully you can unpack why it was such a dominant strategy, right? Because you write in your paper, “Our ancestors traded a risky but abundant lifestyle for a more stable but less prosperous one, driven by risk aversion, particularly among populations near subsistence levels.” And I would imagine that you would expect to see variation based on different populations’ risk tolerance and also desire to kind of smooth their consumption. And also, it seems like there’d be a real free rider problem. Like, nomads could just go around just attacking sedentary populations, taking their food, and moving on. So it’s interesting to me that it ended up being such a dominant strategy to stay put.

Matranga: Yeah, so in terms of, obviously, the risk of raids, I think that would go back to my undergraduate thesis of sort of the importance of having some way of defending. So the first places that do this are actually, like, these hillsides—Jarmo, for example, was an early one—that are very steep on all sides. And, you know, the point is that with that, you kind of need a very specific land conformation, where it’s just the right shape of a hill, and there’s water, and there’s fields close to it, and there’s a way to get from the fields to the hill. And, you know, how many hillsides like that can you find? So the convenient thing is: Once you invent fortifications, then you can build a wall, and so build your own quote-unquote hill in the middle of the fertile plain, which is what they do with sort of Mesopotamia.

So that’s one aspect to it. The other one is that some people remain nomadic for a very long time, usually because either it’s too cold, the growing season is too short, or otherwise the rainfall is too low, and so they’re not able to farm, and the only way that they can survive in a viable number of people is by constantly moving around. But what they usually do, at that point, is they become pastoralists.

One way of seeing this is that it’s not just a matter of risk aversion, because in the end, if your risk aversion, high or low that it is—let’s say that you’re a complete nervous Nellie. You don’t want to take any risk, and you just eat grubs from under a stone, because you never want to leave your immediate area. Well, you’re probably not going to reproduce very fast, which means that either some neighbors that accepted a little bit more risk and have much higher average amount of food have more kids than you, and they can displace you, or even if you somehow intermarry with them, probably they’re not gonna accept your viewpoint on risk aversion. So the risk aversion, in the end, is something which leads you to make some choices, and these choices have some effects on the viability of your group.

Demsas: Yeah. I feel like the fertility question is really interesting here because it’s both that once you begin farming, you have to send your kids out to go farm themselves, but it increases the number of children that are born, too, that survive?

Matranga: I would say both. When you’re walking, when you’re nomadic, in principle, you cannot have more than one kid per parent, because somebody has to carry them, at least when they are, you know, below 6—because 6-year-olds can walk, but they can’t walk as fast as grown-ups.

The second aspect of this is that there’s so many diseases where if you could just stay in a place that’s warm for a couple of weeks, the kid would be fine. But if you’re in the middle of your migration, that’s it.

And the other thing is that when you’re constantly breastfeeding and moving around, you’re probably not gonna put on a lot of weight. And it would appear that a lot of hunter-gatherer women would take a few years to even be fertile again. Because they just would not achieve that—I forget if it’s 15 or 18 percent or—whatever the number is of body fat where your body can even conceive.

So absolutely, when you become sedentary, you can have more kids. And I think even if you want to remain nomadic, if there’s these farmers which are having way more kids than you survive, then if there’s ever any conflict—maybe now, maybe in two centuries—then very likely, the farmers are going to get their way.

Demsas: I’m curious about us returning to what you started this conversation with, which is the question about whether or not it was a good idea for us to move out of the hunter-gatherer stage to the farming stage. Because your paper has something to say, also, about whether we’re over-reading the evidence about humans being worse off nutritionally when they become farmers. So what’s your pushback on this question about, Maybe nutrition was actually improved once you become a farmer?

Matranga: Yes, absolutely. It’s interesting because the first concrete evidence of anything that I found in support of my thesis was what I’m about to tell you. And it’s something called “Harris lines.” So Harris was a pathologist. I believe that one of his kids had a pretty severe disease. For some reason, he saw an X-ray of his kid, and he noticed that he had this line in their bones, sort of a transverse line. So, you know, like, not in the direction of the bone—kind of like a tree ring along the growth.

And so then he explored this more, and he found out that when there is an episode of growth arrest of a child that is growing normally, then—for example, this could be a disease, or it could be that you’re not eating—and so there’s what’s called a “metabolic insult.” Your metabolism is not producing enough energy to both keep you alive while growing, and so then you have growth arrest.

And then when you start eating well again, or the disease passes, then there’s something called catch-up growth. So the body actually grows faster, because it’s trying to get back on the growth curve that it was on originally. And as it’s growing faster, it deposits this different kind of bone, which you can see from X-rays. And so it’s a little bit like a tree ring, but for mammals.

And the interesting thing is that from that same Cohen and Armelagos 1984 book, Paleopathology at the Origins of Agriculture, it also looks like the hunter-gatherers had—they were taller, up to 10 centimeters taller, but they also had—way more of these Harris lines, or growth-arrest lines, in their bones, sometimes as many as six per individual, on average, in some populations. And they also appeared to be evenly spaced, just like tree rings. And so to them, this suggested that almost every year, there would be a period of famine.

And so it really looks like it was this insurance trade-off that you mentioned before, which is that, you know: The hunter-gatherers, they ate a lot, but for a few months, at least, every year, it looks like they were starving, while the farmers, they ate less, on average, but they always ate. They were able to smooth their consumption from summer to winter, logically.

And I think that one of the reasons this had not been proposed before was because as sedentary people with bank accounts and granaries, you know, usually our problems are not about, like, I’m eating a lot this week, but what am I going to eat next week? But if you are a nomad, and you’re not able to store food, then that, I think, would be the dominant concern, and I think that’s why we accepted this trade-off. Like, Sure, we’re just going to be shorter. That’s fine. But, you know, at least we don’t starve for a couple of months every year.

Demsas: So you think this is the correct trade-off? You don’t buy the thesis that we made a mistake?

Matranga: No, no. I think we did a great trade-off. In fact, I think that part of the problem with, even, development goals—they tend to be phrased in terms of averages. We would like people to make, at least, $5 or $10 a day, on average, throughout the year. And then how can we get them to invest? Or how can we take them to become entrepreneurial and so on? But when you’re this close to starvation, I think that the average, obviously, you think about it, as well. But what you’re really worried about is, What am I going to eat in the worst possible case that could happen to me within the next 30 years?

Because the way that they survived as a population through the centuries was by taking the worst case into possibility. If I take a statistic of a country, and I measure their income every year, and for 25 years, it’s quite good, and then they all die in the 26th year, the average income is still very good, but that’s a complete disaster for the population involved.

And so if anything, I think that our way of measuring success is, again, predicated on the fact that we do have insurance, and we do have bank accounts, and we do have granaries. And so our worries are more about averages, while if you are a hunter-gatherer, your life is dominated by the worst outcome. And I think it was a correct choice. In fact, it was so correct that we forgot how awful it is to be eating a whole wildebeest that you killed and still be worried about what you’re going to eat next week.

Demsas: Well, Andrea, always our final question: What is something that you thought was a good idea at the time but ended up only being good on paper?

Matranga: As a personal anecdote, I’d spent a lot of time figuring out a good way to move to the U.S. And I loved my time in the U.S., but then I realized that moving continents is very difficult when you still have family back home. And the things that you like and that you think you’re going to enjoy when you’re 25 and don’t have kids, then once you have a family, you have to move backwards and forwards and all the summer stuff, then it starts to wear on you.

So I just realized, after being incredibly internationally minded, I still love traveling and visiting places, but I became much more homeward bound in my aspirations as time went by.

Demsas: Yeah. Well, Andrea, thank you so much for coming on the show.

Matranga: Absolutely. My absolute pleasure. Anytime.

[Music]

Demsas: Good on Paper is produced by Jinae West. It was edited by Dave Shaw, fact-checked by Ena Alvarado, and engineered by Erica Huang. Our theme music is composed by Rob Smierciak. Claudine Ebeid is the executive producer of Atlantic audio. Andrea Valdez is our managing editor.

And hey, if you like what you’re hearing, please leave us a rating and review on Apple Podcasts.

I’m Jerusalem Demsas, and we’ll see you next week.

[Music]

Matranga: So it was funny, because if you had asked me, What would you say is good on paper? And I was ready to say, Well, for all my office and copier paper needs, I use Dunder Mifflin, the paper supplier. But the setup—

Demsas: The setup was too different? You were going to go with Dunder Mifflin? That’s so funny.

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Chesapeake Bay’s oysters make a steady comeback

The Maryland mollusks have survived decades of overharvesting, disease and drought.

For the fifth year in a row, the oyster population in the Chesapeake Bay is doing well after decades of combating drought, disease, loss of habitat and overharvesting.The Maryland Department of Natural Resources said in March that its annual fall oyster survey showed that the “spatfall intensity index” — a measure of how well oysters reproduced and their potential population growth — again hit above a 40-year median.“We seem to be making some headway,” said Lynn Waller Fegley, director of fishing and boating services for the Maryland Department of Natural Resources. “With the work we’ve done to help restore oysters, and combined with the fact that we’ve been gifted with some really favorable environmental conditions, we’ve seen the oyster population trend upward.”Oyster-processing companies, oystermen, conservation groups and local fish and wildlife departments in the region have spent years trying to boost the population of oysters, which serve an important role as “filter feeders,” sifting sediment and pollutants such as nitrogen out of the water.The cleaner water in turn spurs underwater grasses to grow, while oyster reefs create habitats for fish, crabs and dozens of other species. Adult oysters can filter up to two gallons of water per hour, making them the bay’s “most effective water filtration system,” according to experts at the Chesapeake Bay Foundation, a nonprofit organization that advocates for the health of the bay.Oysters thrive in brackish water — a mix of saltwater and freshwater. They attach and grow on hard surfaces such as rocks, piers or old shells. Too much rain lowers the salinity, while drought makes water too salty. Both situations can create conditions in which oysters can become vulnerable to disease or unable to reproduce as well.Before the 1880s, the oyster population was so healthy it could filter in a week a volume of water equal to that of the entire bay — about 19 trillion gallons — according to the bay foundation. But now it would take the vastly smaller oyster population more than a year to do the same amount.This fall, biologists in Maryland collected more than 300 oyster samples from the bay and tributaries, including the Potomac River, for their annual survey. The results were promising, experts said, given that 2023 was an unusual year for oysters because drought conditions raised the salinity in the bay.There are several other encouraging signs, experts said. The mortality rate of oysters has stabilized, their “biomass index,” which shows how oyster populations are doing over time, has been increasing for the past 14 years, and an analysis of their habitat showed continued improvements.“They’ve been hit by a pretty severe drought, then got pretty decimated by disease,” Fegley said. “They’ve been cycling back, and we’re now in a state of grace.”Another sign oysters are doing better is their “spat sets” — the process of the tiny larvae (spat) attaching to a hard surface so they can grow into mature oysters. A high number of spat equals successful reproduction. A low number means there are fewer young oysters that will grow into adults.Fegley said last year, the bay’s oysters had “epic, generational spat sets.”“Not only were there a lot of young oysters, which is a good sign of health, but they were distributed through the bay in a way that we had not seen in many years where they were farther up tributaries,” Fegley said. “We’ve had years where the conditions in the bay were just right — with a good balance of salinity levels, no disease and good reproduction.”The success of oysters is also due in part to Maryland and Virginia working over the past few years to build more oyster reefs along the bottom of the bay so oysters could grow successfully, according to Allison Colden, executive director of Maryland for the Chesapeake Bay Foundation. In recent years, she said, more than 1,300 acres of oyster reefs have been replenished in both states.In the past decade, Virginia has also tried to boost its oyster population with aquaculture farms that raise oysters in cages and return their spat to natural waters. The commonwealth increased its number of oyster farms to more than 130 in 2018, up from 60 in 2013, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture.Last season, Virginia harvested 700,000 bushels of oysters, one of the highest annual harvests since the late 1980s, according to Adam Kenyon, chief of the shellfish management division at the Virginia Marine Resources Commission.Those efforts, plus Mother Nature, have helped create the delicate combination oysters need to survive.“In the last five years, we’ve seen a rebound,” Colden said. “Reproduction has been higher than the long-term average, and we’re seeing more consistency in how they’re doing year-to-year, and that’s a positive sign.”For Jeff Harrison, a fifth-generation waterman who serves as president of the Talbot County Watermen Association, the changes have been like a roller coaster over the 47 years he has made a living off the bay. He’s seen diseases hit, oyster-harvesting seasons shortened, prices fluctuate and many other watermen leave the business because they couldn’t turn a profit.“I’ve seen some of the worst seasons in oystering,” he said. “We’d always have ups and downs. Now we’re seeing a steady up, and we’re hoping we have turned the corner.”

These communities are unaware they’ve lived near toxic gas for decades. Why has no action been taken?

Five facilities near schools and houses in LA County fumigate produce shipped from overseas with methyl bromide. But the air agency doesn’t plan to monitor the air or take any immediate steps to protect people from the gas, which can damage lungs and cause neurological effects.

In summary Five facilities near schools and houses in LA County fumigate produce shipped from overseas with methyl bromide. But the air agency doesn’t plan to monitor the air or take any immediate steps to protect people from the gas, which can damage lungs and cause neurological effects. In a quiet Compton neighborhood near the 710 freeway, children on a recent afternoon chased each other at Kelly Park after school. Parents watched their kids play, unaware of a potential threat to their health.  On the other side of the freeway, just blocks from the park and Kelly Elementary School, a fumigation company uses a highly toxic pesticide to spray fruits and vegetables.  The facility, Global Pest Management, has been emitting methyl bromide, which can cause lung damage and neurological health effects, into the air near the neighborhood for several decades.  Earlier this year, the South Coast Air Quality Management District asked the company — along with four other fumigation facilities in San Pedro and Long Beach — to provide data on their methyl bromide usage. But the air quality agency does not plan to install monitors in the communities that would tell residents exactly what is in their air, or hold community meetings to notify them of potential risks. Instead, the South Coast district has launched a preliminary screening of the five facilities to determine if a full assessment of health risks in the neighborhoods is necessary. But even if that analysis is conducted, the agency won’t require the companies to reduce emissions unless they reach concentrations three times higher than the amounts deemed a health risk under state guidelines, said Scott Epstein, the district’s planning and rules manager. Piedad Delgado, a mother picking up her daughter from the Compton school, said she “didn’t even know” that the hazardous chemical was being used nearby. When a CalMatters reporter told her about the fumigation plant, Delgado wondered if it was causing her daughter’s recent, mysterious bouts of headaches and nausea. “It’s concerning. We may be getting sick but we don’t know why,” she said. For about the past 30 years, the companies have sprayed methyl bromide on imported produce arriving at the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach to kill harmful pests. Adults and children are shown after school at Kelly Elementary School in Compton, which is near a facility that uses a highly toxic fumigant, methyl bromide. Photo by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters Methyl bromide, which was widely used to treat soil on farm fields, has been banned worldwide for most uses since 2005 under a United Nations treaty that protects the Earth’s ozone layer. Exemptions are granted for fumigation of produce shipped from overseas. While little to no residue remains on the food, the gas is vented into the air where it is sprayed. State health officials have classified methyl bromide as a reproductive toxicant, which means it can harm babies exposed in the womb. With acute exposure, high levels can cause headaches, dizziness, nausea and difficulty breathing, while chronic exposure over a year or longer could cause more serious neurological effects, such as learning and memory problems, according to the California Air Resources Board. “It’s concerning. We may be getting sick but we don’t know why.”Piedad Delgado, Compton Resident State and local air quality officials are responsible for enforcing laws and regulations that protect communities from toxic air contaminants such as methyl bromide, while the Los Angeles County Agricultural Commissioner issues the permits to the fumigation companies. After CalMatters reported about the facilities last month, members of Congress representing the communities demanded “greater monitoring, transparency and oversight surrounding these fumigation facilities and their toxic emissions.” “We have serious concerns about the prevalent use of methyl bromide, a toxic pesticide, by container fumigation facilities in Los Angeles County,” U.S. Reps. Nanette Barragán, Maxine Waters and Robert Garcia wrote in an April 11 letter to state and local air regulators and county and federal agricultural officials.  “Several of these fumigation facilities are located close to homes, schools, parks, and other public spaces. Our communities deserve a greater understanding of the levels of toxic emissions from these facilities, the health risks from exposure to such emissions, and the oversight processes in place to ensure all protocols are maintained at these sites,” they wrote. “Our communities deserve a greater understanding of the levels of toxic emissions from these facilities, the health risks from exposure to such emissions, and the oversight processes in place.”U.S. Reps. Nanette Barragán, Maxine Waters and Robert Garcia Even though the San Pedro facility at the Port of Los Angeles and the Compton plant use the largest volumes of methyl bromide — a combined 52,000 pounds a year — the air in nearby communities has never been tested.  The two Long Beach facilities use much less, yet state tests in 2023 and 2024 detected potentially dangerous levels in a neighborhood near an elementary school. South Coast district officials said although certain levels of methyl bromide in the air could cause health effects, it doesn’t necessarily mean immediate action is necessary.  “We don’t want to go out and unnecessarily concern folks if there isn’t (a health concern), but we are actively investigating this right now,” said Sarah Rees, the South Coast district’s deputy executive office for planning, rule development and implementation.   Global Pest Management, which fumigates in Compton and Terminal Island, did not return calls from CalMatters. An employee at the facility declined to comment. A general manager at SPF Terminals in Long Beach also declined to comment.  Greg Augustine, owner of Harbor Fumigation in San Pedro, said his company has been permitted for more than 30 years and complies with all requirements. “To protect the health of our community, the air district establishes permit conditions and we comply with all of those permit conditions,” he said. “Those are vetted by the air district…and they’re all designed to protect the health of our community.”  “To protect the health of our community, the air district establishes permit conditions and we comply with all of those permit conditions.” Greg Augustine, owner of Harbor Fumigation in San Pedro Daniel McCarrel, an attorney representing AG-Fume Services, which fumigates at facilities in Long Beach and San Pedro, did not respond to questions but previously told CalMatters last month that the company is adhering to all of its permit conditions.  High levels found in Long Beach  Back in 2019, during regionwide testing, South Coast district officials detected methyl bromide in the air near the two West Long Beach facilities close to concentrations that could cause long-term health effects. The South Coast district took no action at the time — other than to publish a large study online of all toxic air contaminants throughout the four-county LA basin. Then, several years later, the state Air Resources Board found that the two facilities — SPF Terminals and AG-Fume Services — spewed high concentrations of methyl bromide at various times throughout the year. The state’s air monitor near Hudson Elementary School in West Long Beach — which is just about 1,000 feet from the two facilities — detected an average of 2.1 parts per billion in 2023 through part of 2024. Exposure to as little as 1 ppb for a year or more can cause serious nervous system effects as well as developmental effects on fetuses, according to state health guidelines. Spikes of methyl bromide were as high as 983 and 966 ppb in February and March of 2024. Short-term exposure to 1,000 ppb can cause acute health effects such as nausea, headaches and dizziness.  But state and district air-quality officials didn’t inform nearby residents about any of the monitoring data for longer than a year — not until three months ago, in a community meeting held in Long Beach.  First: Edvin Hernandez, right, waits to pick up his son at Kelly Elementary School in Compton, which is near a fumigation plant. Last: SPF Terminals in Long Beach uses methyl bromide. High levels of the gas were found near an elementary school in West Long Beach. Photos by Joel Angel Juarez and J.W. Hendricks for CalMatters Upon learning of the test results, the Los Angeles County Agricultural Commissioner a few months ago added new permit conditions for SPF Terminals and AG-Fume Services, including shutting doors, installing taller smokestacks and prohibiting fumigation during school hours, according to permits obtained by CalMatters. But the county permits for the three San Pedro and Compton facilities, which use much larger volumes of methyl bromide, remain unchanged, with none of the protections added to the Long Beach permits. And officials still have not held any community meetings there. The agricultural commissioner’s office declined to comment on the facilities. A complex web of ‘hot spots’ rules for methyl bromide About 38% of the methyl bromide used in California for commodity fumigation is in LA County, according to Department of Pesticide Regulation data for 2022. After many Long Beach residents expressed concerns, the South Coast district assessed all nine facilities permitted to use the chemical in the region and determined that five could pose a risk to residents.  Now the agency is going through a complex process outlined under the state’s Air Toxics “Hot Spots” law, enacted in 1987. Usage data, weather patterns and proximity to neighborhoods will be used to calculate a “priority score” for each of the five facilities. If a facility’s score is high enough, then the company will be required to conduct a full health risk assessment to examine the dangers to the community. None of the scores have been released yet. Risk assessments under the air district’s rules are a complicated, multi-step process likely to take many months. Smokestacks are shown at a facility that fumigates imported produce at the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. AG-Fume Services and Harbor Fumigation operate at this facility. Photo by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters And these health assessments may not trigger any changes at the facilities. It all depends on whether certain thresholds for hazards are crossed. The state Office of Environmental Health Hazard Assessment has set guidelines, called reference exposure levels, for concentrations of methyl bromide that could cause the long-term or short-term health effects, such as respiratory and neurological damage, nausea and fetal effects, based on human and animal studies. But South Coast district officials said action isn’t triggered if methyl bromide exceeds these reference levels. Instead, the district uses a state-created “hazard index” based on them. If a facility’s hazard index reaches one — which means concentrations outside the facility have reached the reference dose and could cause harm — the company must notify the public, under a South Coast district regulation. However, the facilities will only be required to take steps to reduce emissions if the hazard index reaches three — three times the reference level that indicates potential harm, according to that regulation. Expedited action is required under the rule if the index is five times higher.   “Just because it’s above the (reference level), it doesn’t mean it’s going to cause health impacts,” said Ian MacMillan, assistant deputy executive officer at the South Coast air district. He said the reference level indicates “there’s a possibility that there could be health impacts.”  The series of escalating thresholds is designed as a balancing act between regulating facilities and protecting the public, officials said. MacMillan also said methyl bromide emissions must be considered in the context of overall air quality in the region — the entire LA basin has an average hazard index of 5.5 when considering all sources of toxic air pollutants from industries and vehicles, he said. When told about the fumigation plants and lack of air testing and risk assessments, residents contacted by CalMatters were outraged. “There’s no interest from the government to protect our health,” said Edvin Hernandez, a father picking up his 9-year-old son from Kelly Elementary School in Compton. “We’re surviving by the hand of God.” The members of Congress — Barragán, Waters and Garcia — asked air regulators to install monitors near all Los Angeles County fumigation facilities, compile inspection records, conduct health assessments in the communities and provide all of the results on a public website.  “It is egregious that communities in California are still being impacted by this harmful and unnecessary chemical,” said Alison Hahm, a staff attorney with the Natural Resources Defense Council, which is working with community members. “In addition to stopping this ongoing public health threat in West Long Beach and Los Angeles, residents are demanding accountability and remedies for the harm endured.” The methyl bromide facilities in L.A. County are subjected to a different permitting process than elsewhere in California.  That’s because in 1996, the South Coast air district and the Los Angeles County Agricultural Commissioner agreed to share responsibility for regulating fumigating facilities. The agricultural office is tasked with issuing permits and the air agency is in charge of setting emissions limits and enforcing them.   In the Bay Area, the local air district has a similar agreement with agricultural departments that originated in 1997. However, the district decided that agreement is out of date so it is now issuing permits, too. One facility in the Bay Area uses the pesticide, Impact Transportation of Oakland. In 2019, the air district assessed the health risks of that facility and modeled how the fumes spread.   In the San Joaquin Valley, new facilities or those changing their methyl bromide use are subject to a health risk evaluation before a permit is issued. Facilities permitted before the air district was established in 1992 are subject to a review like the one that the South Coast district is now launching in San Pedro and Compton. The Los Angeles Agriculture Commissioner’s office, when asked whether it conducts a risk assessment before issuing permits, declined to answer any questions. CalMatters filed a public records request seeking risk assessments, but they said they had no records matching the request.   South Coast air regulators said they and the commissioner are now considering if any changes to their agreement should be made.  Allowed to use up to a half-ton of methyl bromide a day  Fumigation of produce using methyl bromide occurs within an enclosed facility, and the produce is covered by a tarp when sprayed. The fumes are then released into the atmosphere through tall smokestacks, a process called aeration. CalMatters filed a public records request with the county agricultural office and received the five facilities’ permits for 2023 through 2025. The permits show that the two Long Beach companies are now required to take an array of new precautions to limit fumes emitted into communities that the three Compton and San Pedro families are not — even though the Long Beach ones use much smaller volumes of methyl bromide. The San Pedro and Compton plants are allowed to use up to 1,000 pounds of methyl bromide in a 24-hour period. In contrast, the Long Beach plants can use up to 200 pounds in 24 hours, and in Oakland, Impact Transportation’s permit allows only 108 pounds.  First: Pallets of produce are piled up at the outer berths at the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro. Last: A tarped area holds a tank that contains a hazardous gas, most likely methyl bromide. A fan and roof vents ventilated the area while garage doors were left open on April 8, 2025. AG-Fume Services and Harbor Fumigation operate at this location. Photos by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters The San Pedro and Compton facilities release fumes into the atmosphere during the daytime, except when they use an exhaust stack meeting certain height requirements, according to their permits. The two Long Beach facilities, SPF Terminals and AG Fume Services, have new, additional requirements this year: Fumigation can’t occur between 8:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m. when a school is within 1,000 feet. And by the end of this month, they must replace their smokestacks with taller ones that are at least 55 feet tall, which disperse the fumes better. All doors must be closed during fumigation and aeration and fans must be used in the aeration process.  ‘We don’t have a choice’ At a ballpark on a recent day in San Pedro, Eastview Little League players took the field.  When a 13-year-old boy on the Pirates team was up to bat, his mom, Amy Shannon, cheered him on.  “Let’s go D! Deep breath boy, you got it!” she shouted.  Then she paused. Maybe she shouldn’t be encouraging her son to take a deep breath, she said. Shannon had just learned from CalMatters about the fumigation facility across the street from the baseball field. Amy Shannon, left, and Roxanne Gasparo, right, attend their children’s Little League game at Bloch Field near the Port of Los Angeles in San Pedro on April 8, 2025. Both women were unaware that a fumigation facility nearby has been using a toxic gas for about 30 years. Photo by Joel Angel Juarez for CalMatters At the facility where AG Fume and Harbor Fumigation operate, located at 2200 Miner Street, it was business as usual that day. A ship was docked on one side of the Los Angeles Port berth. On the other side, hundreds of stacks of fruits and vegetables were visible through several large garage doors.  Some of the stacks were covered with plastic. A tank containing a fumigant — labeled with a hazard sign depicting a skull — was hooked up outside. Yellow smokestacks protruded from the facility.  An AG-Fume Services truck was parked near one of the garage doors. Workers wearing yellow vests and sun-protective hats closed the garage doors, but left them slightly open at the bottom.  At the baseball field, Shannon watched the game with a friend, Roxanne Gasparo. Both women grew up in San Pedro. Gasparo said she wasn’t at all surprised to learn that a dangerous gas could be in their air.   “Because it’s a port town, unfortunately, we’re used to pollution. We have the port, obviously, and all the refineries next to us,” Gasparo said. “There’s really no way to get out of it unless you leave the city, and because most of the families here are blue collar families that rely on the unions, we kind of don’t have a choice,” she added. “We just deal with it and raise our kids the best we can.” More about air pollution in port communities ‘We should be in crisis mode’: Toxic fumigant could be seeping into these communities March 21, 2025March 26, 2025 Polluted communities hold their breath as companies struggle with California’s diesel truck ban December 10, 2024December 10, 2024

Costa Rica Ghost Net Cleanup Saves Marine Life in Puntarenas

For the Oceans Foundation successfully completed the first stage of its ghost net rescue campaign in Costa de Pájaros, Puntarenas, removing approximately 15 tons of abandoned fishing nets from the seabed, enough to nearly fill a 20-ton truck, according to social media reports and foundation statements. The initiative aims to eliminate these silent killers that […] The post Costa Rica Ghost Net Cleanup Saves Marine Life in Puntarenas appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

For the Oceans Foundation successfully completed the first stage of its ghost net rescue campaign in Costa de Pájaros, Puntarenas, removing approximately 15 tons of abandoned fishing nets from the seabed, enough to nearly fill a 20-ton truck, according to social media reports and foundation statements. The initiative aims to eliminate these silent killers that harm marine life and promote sustainable fishing practices in Costa Rica’s coastal communities, a critical step toward preserving ourcountry’s rich biodiversity. Ghost nets are abandoned, lost, or discarded fishing gear that continue to trap marine life, such as fish, sea turtles, dolphins, and sharks, while damaging coral reefs and seagrass beds. Globally, an estimated 640,000 tons of ghost gear pollute the oceans, contributing to 10% of oceanic litter, according to the Food and Agriculture Organization. In Costa Rica, these nets threaten iconic species like the hawksbill turtle and disrupt artisanal fishing livelihoods, exacerbating ocean pollution and habitat loss. The cleanup effort united 20 artisanal fishing families, professional rescue divers, and more than 60 volunteers, showcasing community-driven conservation. The operation was led by Captain Gabriel Ramírez of UDIVE 506, with eight fishing boats navigating the Gulf of Nicoya’s challenging currents. Reportedly, organizations including the Parlamento Cívico Ambiental, ACEPESA, Coast Guard, Red Cross, IPSA, REX Cargo, and Cervecería y Bebidas San Roque provided logistical support, transportation, hydration, and assistance with sorting and processing the recovered nets. Marine Biology students from the National University (UNA) played a key role by preparing the nets for recycling, ensuring minimal environmental impact. “Each of us can contribute to the environment. This is not for me or for you—it’s for Costa Rica, for the planet, and for marine life,” said Jorge Serendero, Director of Fundación For the Oceans. This cleanup builds on Costa Rica’s leadership in marine conservation, with over 30% of its territorial waters protected as of 2021, a global benchmark. The foundation reported a tense moment when a diver became entangled in a drifting net due to strong currents. Thanks to the quick action of his colleagues, he was freed unharmed, underscoring the risks of such operations. This campaign highlights the power of collective action in protecting marine ecosystems, a priority for Costa Rica as it expands marine protected areas like Cocos Island. Fundación For the Oceans plans additional cleanups in 2025 to address ghost nets across Costa Rica’s Pacific coast. Interested individuals can contact For the Oceans Foundation at info@fortheoceansfoundation.org or +506 8875-9393 to volunteer, donate, or learn about upcoming initiatives to safeguard the oceans. The post Costa Rica Ghost Net Cleanup Saves Marine Life in Puntarenas appeared first on The Tico Times | Costa Rica News | Travel | Real Estate.

Commercial salmon season is shut down — again. Will California’s iconic fish ever recover?

While it’s an unprecedented third year in a row for no commercially caught salmon, brief windows will be allowed for sportsfishing in California.

In summary While it’s an unprecedented third year in a row for no commercially caught salmon, brief windows will be allowed for sportsfishing in California. Facing the continued collapse of Chinook salmon, officials today shut down California’s commercial salmon fishing season for an unprecedented third year in a row.  Under the decision by an interstate fisheries agency, recreational salmon fishing will be allowed in California for only brief windows of time this spring. This will be the first year that any sportfishing of Chinook has been allowed since 2022. Today’s decision by the Pacific Fishery Management Council means that no salmon caught off California can be sold to retail consumers and restaurants for at least another year. In Oregon and Washington, commercial salmon fishing will remain open, although limited. “From a salmon standpoint, it’s an environmental disaster. For the fishing industry, it’s a human tragedy, and it’s also an economic disaster,” said Scott Artis, executive director of the Golden State Salmon Association, an industry organization that has lobbied for river restoration and improved hatchery programs.  The decline of California’s salmon follows decades of deteriorating conditions in the waterways where the fish spawn each year, including the Sacramento and Klamath rivers. California’s salmon are an ecological icon and a valued source of food for Native American tribes. The shutdown also has an economic toll: It has already put hundreds of commercial fishers and sportfishing boat operators out of work and affected thousands of people in communities and industries reliant on processing, selling and serving locally caught salmon.  California’s commercial fishery has never been closed for three years in a row before.  Some experts fear the conditions in California have been so poor for so long that Chinook may never rebound to fishable levels. Others remain hopeful for major recovery if the amounts of water diverted to farms and cities are reduced and wetlands kept dry by flood-control levees are restored.  This year’s recreational season includes several brief windows for fishing, including a weekend in June and another in July, or a quota of 7,000 fish.   Jared Davis, owner and operator of the Salty Lady in Sausalito, one of dozens of party boats that take paying customers fishing, thinks it’s likely that this quota will be met on the first open weekend for recreational fishing, scheduled for June 7-8.   “Obviously, the pressure is going to be intense, so everybody and their mother is going to be out on the water on those days,” he said. “When they hit that quota, it’s done.” One member of the fishery council, Corey Ridings, voted against the proposed regulations after saying she was concerned that the first weekend would overshoot the 7,000-fish quota. Davis said such a miniscule recreational season won’t help boat owners like him recover from past closures, though it will carry symbolic meaning. “It might give California anglers a glimmer of hope and keep them from selling all their rods and buying golf clubs,” he said.  “It continues to be devastating. Salmon has been the cornerstone of many of our ports for a long time.”Sarah Bates, commercial fisher based in San Francisco Sarah Bates, a commercial fisher based at San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf, said the ongoing closure has stripped many boat owners of most of their income.  “It continues to be devastating,” she said. “Salmon has been the cornerstone of many of our ports for a long time.” She said the shutdown also has trickle-down effects on a range of businesses that support the salmon fishery, such as fuel services, grocery stores and dockside ice machines. “We’re also seeing a sort of a third wave … the general seafood market for local products has tanked,” such as rockfish and halibut. She said that many buyers are turning to farmed and wild salmon delivered from other regions instead. Davis noted that federal emergency relief funds promised for the 2023 closure still have not arrived. “Nobody has seen a dime,” he said.  Fewer returning salmon Before the Gold Rush, several million Chinook spawned annually in the river systems of the Central Valley and the state’s northern coast. Through much of the 20th century, California’s salmon fishery formed the economic backbone of coastal fishing ports, with fishers using hook and line pulling in millions of pounds in good years.  But in 2024, just 99,274 fall-run Chinook — the most commercially viable of the Central Valley’s four subpopulations — returned to the Sacramento River and its tributaries, substantially lower than the numbers in 2023. In 2022, fewer than 70,000 returned, one of the lowest estimates ever. About 40,000 returned to the San Joaquin River. Fewer than 30,000 Chinook reached their spawning grounds in the Klamath River system, where the Hoopa, Yurok and Karuk tribes rely on the fish in years of abundance.  The decline of California’s salmon stems from nearly two centuries of damage inflicted on the rivers where salmon spend the first and final stages of their lives. Gold mining, logging and dam construction devastated watersheds. Levees constrained rivers, turning them into relatively sterile channels of fast-moving water while converting floodplains and wetlands into irrigated farmland.  Today, many of these impacts persist, along with water diversions, reduced flows and elevated river temperatures that frequently spell death for fertilized eggs and juvenile fish. The future of California salmon is murky Peter Moyle, a UC Davis fish biologist and professor emeritus, said recovery of self-sustaining populations may be possible in some tributaries of the Sacramento River.  “There are some opportunities for at least keeping runs going in parts of the Central Valley, but getting naturally spawning fish back in large numbers, I just can’t see it happening,” he said. Jacob Katz, a biologist with the group California Trout, holds out hope for a future of flourishing Sacramento River Chinook. “We could have vibrant fall-run populations in a decade,” he said.  That will require major habitat restoration involving dam removals, reconstruction of levee systems to revive wetlands and floodplains, and reduced water diversions for agriculture — all measures fraught with cost, regulatory constraints, and controversy.  “There are some opportunities for at least keeping (salmon) runs going in parts of the Central Valley, but getting naturally spawning fish back in large numbers, I just can’t see it happening.”Peter moyle, uc davis fish biologist State officials, recognizing the risk of extinction, have promoted salmon recovery as a policy goal for years. In early 2024, the Newsom administration released its California Salmon Strategy for a Hotter, Drier Future, a 37-page catalogue of proposed actions to mitigate environmental impacts and restore flows and habitat, all in the face of a warming environment.  Artis of Golden State Salmon Association said the state’s salmon strategy includes some important items but leaves out equally critical ones, like protecting minimum required flows for fish — what Artis said are threatened by proposed water projects endorsed by the Newsom administration. “It fails to include some of the upcoming salmon-killing projects that the governor is pushing like Sites Reservoir and the Delta tunnel, and it ignores the fact that the Voluntary Agreements are designed to allow massive diversions of water,” he said. Experts agree that an important key to rebuilding salmon runs is increasing the frequency and duration of shallow flooding in riverside riparian areas, or even fallow rice paddies — a program Katz has helped develop through his career.  On such seasonal floodplains, a shallow layer of water can help trigger an explosion of photosynthesis and food production, ultimately providing nutrition for juvenile salmon as they migrate out of the river system each spring.  Through meetings with farmers, urban water agencies and government officials, Rene Henery, California science director with Trout Unlimited, has helped draft an ambitious salmon recovery plan dubbed “Reorienting to Recovery.” Featuring habitat restoration, carefully managed harvests and generously enhanced river flows — especially in dry years — this framework, Henery said, could rebuild diminished Central Valley Chinook runs to more than 1.6 million adult fish per year over a 20-year period.  He said adversaries — often farmers and environmentalists — must shift from traditional feuds over water to more collaborative programs of restoring productive watersheds while maintaining productive agriculture. As the recovery needle for Chinook moves in the wrong direction, Katz said deliberate action is urgent.  “We’re balanced on the edge of losing these populations,” he said. “We have to go big now. We have no other option.” more about salmon ‘No way, not possible’: California has a plan for new water rules. Will it save salmon from extinction? by Alastair Bland December 16, 2024December 16, 2024 A third straight year with no California salmon fishing?  Early fish counts suggest it could happen by Alastair Bland October 30, 2024October 30, 2024

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