Feeding the World

written by

Joel Salatin

posted on

October 7, 2025

By far the most common question people ask me is, "Can the Polyface approach feed the world?"  

Yet another big op-ed piece in the New York Times on Sept 28 took this position to marginalize non-chemical agriculture, using the oft-quoted idea that we would need three times as much farmland to produce the food the world needs if we quit using glyphosate and chemical fertilizer.

Let's take a walk into history and see where this kind of "scientific studies show" originated.  

When Mason Carbaugh was Virginia Agriculture Commissioner more than 30 years ago, he issued a "state of the Commonwealth's Agriculture" each year.  I'll never forget opening it and reading his dire predictions about what would happen if we went to organic farming.  Half the world would starve; organic farmers needed to pick which half they wanted to starve.

This was long before the government organic certification program, but the rumblings toward non-chemical approaches were already rattling the establishment narrative.  They had to nip this rebellious notion in the bud.

I didn't cotton to being called a starvation advocate.  

Do you know how it makes you feel to be told your methodology would kill half the planet?  Think on that for a bit.  I began sleuthing the studies the commissioner cited to come to his conclusions.  Here is the pinnacle of scientific modeling at Virginia Tech, Virginia's esteemed land grant university.

They decided to do a comparison of chemical versus organic production.  The college had many test plots for studying things.  These were all fairly small 10 ft. X 12 ft. type plots.  Imagine a couple of football fields partitioned off into little plots to study pesticides, herbicides, various chemical concoctions, seed germination, and plant varieties.

In other words, these plots, for years, received all sorts of chemical cocktails along with tillage, herbicides--you get the picture.  The soil was dead.  The plots were certainly not part of a larger ecologically functional system.  These plots epitomized a linear reductionist segregated mechanistic paradigm toward biology.

Scientists identified a handful of plots to grow conventional chemical corn and an adjacent handful to grow the same hybrid corn organically.  The chemical plots received the full complement of fertilizer, pesticides, and herbicides.  The organic plots received nothing.  No compost.  No foliar fish emulsion.  And the corn was the same hybrids bred for chemical uptake, not open-pollinated varieties known for resilience in low-input systems.

You can imagine the outcome.  

The chemical plots grew beautifully and yielded bumper crop equivalents.  

The organic plots were weedy, poorly formed, and yielded a fraction of the others.  

Based on this "sound science" the university and agriculture writers like our current friend at the New York Times have disparaged non-chemical agriculture with credentialed authority.  

These types of studies were repeated at other land grant universities throughout the 1980s as the nascent organic food movement gained traction.

Anyone who knows a scintilla about non-chemical agriculture understands that biological soil is part of a larger system.  The soil is a living community of some 4.5 billion organisms per handful.  Today, only 10 percent of them are named.  The rest are unnamed and we don't even know what they do.  We're still that ignorant about soil.

Interestingly, in just the last couple of years, agronomists who appreciate this living community have identified something called a quorum.  

Until now, agronomists thought all the microorganisms in the soil competed with each other.  After all, a cursory look at nature seems to validate the notion of competition.  Pigs compete for the trough.  Cows compete for clover.  Chickens compete for grasshoppers.

But what we're now learning is that when the soil comes into balance, the various microscopic beings form a synergistic quorum and begin helping each other.  

They become complementary rather than competitive.  This enables each one, with its distinct advantage, to leverage it for the good of the whole.  The organisms begin helping each other, supplying shortages more easily when each becomes freed to pursue its distinct desire.  We see this in tree groups, fungal communities, and other things.

Even a herd of cows becomes like this when it gets large enough.  The herd protects itself from predators when it's healthy and balanced. Healthy animals seek companionship.

The point is that the grow-plots used for organic growing had no special attention and had been abused by chemicals for decades.  

Nothing could be farther from a healthy biological soil system.  

When Polyface begins managing another property, we generally don't see measurable soil changes until the third year.  It takes that long for the biological soil community to realize there's a new sheriff in town; one that loves them and wants to nurture and not nuke these precious micro-organisms.

The biological clock runs on its own schedule.  It's not a wheel bearing that you replace.  It's not a flat tire you fix.  It's a host of interconnected and amazingly complex relationships that heal one at a time.  

The scientists who concocted these supposedly objective growth studies cared not a fig about soil biology and the mysterious majesty of creation.

As the organic movement began, these were the kinds of studies used by the chemical crowd to demean and disparage the threatening notion that we could feed ourselves without poisons.  Naysayers still use these studies to vilify compost and extol the virtue of chemicals.  

Alas and alack, nothing becomes more believable than a lie repeated often enough and long enough, even though we can now see these studies for what they really are.

The truth is that biological systems--truly balanced, nurtured, and respected--spin circles around chemical systems.  Not just in raw production, but especially in nutrition.  

Nearly two decades ago, Polyface participated in a pastured egg study; our eggs averaged 1,038 micrograms of folic acid per egg; the USDA nutrition label says 48.  This is not the same food. Nutritional differences are in multiples. 

All you need to know is this:  500 years ago, North America produced more food than it does today.  

To be sure, it wasn't all eaten by humans.  Some 2 million wolves ate 20 pounds of meat a day.  Some 200 million beavers ate more vegetation (vegetables) than all the people today.  Flocks of birds (especially passenger pigeons) blocked out the sun for 48 hours.  And a herd of 100 million bison roamed the prairies. 

If we really want to feed the planet, we'd better be studying these ancient patterns and figuring out how to duplicate them on our domestic commercial farms.  

Decomposing carbon builds soil, not 10-10-10 chemical fertilizer.  

Grass and forbs build soil faster than trees.  Ponds provide the key to landscape hydration.  

Polyface is devoted to these protocols from nature; thank you for being a part of the restoration.

Joel

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Duplication

  "How does this scale?"  Whenever someone asks me that question, the underlying assumption is that production volume requires consolidation, concentration, and centralization.           In other words, the only way to feed the world is to make bigger chicken houses in one place, bigger canneries in one place, bigger machines and bigger warehouses.  I remember well being vilified by a Smithsonian historian at a food conference where he and I were both on a panel.                     When I dared to suggest bigger is not always better, he interrupted me and ranted for 10 minutes on why bigger is always better.  "A bigger fort was always bigger than a smaller one.  A bigger gun was always better than a smaller one."  He went on and on about how historical accuracy and authenticity demands addiction to bigger.                   But biology is not forts and guns.  It's not mechanical.  Critters have an optimal size.  As animal behaviorist guru Temple Grandin says, living things demand energy for three things:  reproduction, growth, and immunological function.  All three must be in balance.  When anyone selects for only one of those traits, the other two suffer.  That's why American dairy cows only have two lactations on average.  When they milk as heavily as our one-trait genetic selection asks, they don't breed and have all sorts of sickness problems.                   Nature does not scale through concentration; it scales with duplication.  If nature wants more oak, it doesn't make one big tree; it makes acorns.  If nature wants more milk, it doesn't make a great big cow; it makes calves.  If nature wants more tomatoes, it doesn't make a monster tomato plant; it makes a bunch of seeds that make more tomato plants.  Nature scales with duplication.                   At Polyface, rather than having a chicken house big enough for 15,000 chickens, we have 170 little 120 square foot portable shelters holding 75 birds apiece and giving us cumulative capacity for 15,000.  But they're spread out in modules, duplicated, to give us the production volume.                   We run pigs in groupings of 35-50.  A Smithfield confinement facility might house 5,000 hogs in a bigger-than-football-field-sized facility.  The stench is unbearable.  By spreading these pigs out across the landscape in small groups we get the same scale without any of the ecological, immunological, or animal welfare dysfunction.                   This could even be said of farming in general.  People see the massive corn, soybean, and alfalfa farms in the mid-west and wonder how we would possibly survive without those massive, single-species outfits.  The fact is they aren't even producing food.  Half the soybeans are exported to other countries; those markets are drying up rapidly with competition from other countries like Uruguay, Paraguay, Argentina, and Brazil.  Nearly half the corn goes to taxpayer-subsidized ethanol.  The alfalfa goes to Japan and Saudi Arabia to feed racehorses.  By and large, all that production isn't even food.                   The fact is we don't need to produce all those commodities and even if we needed it all for food, we could do it in a more spread out, diversified platform.  America has 35 million acres in lawns.  We have 36 million acres housing and feeding recreational horses.  All of this could be turned into duplicative production, like acorns for oak trees.                   My point is this:  scale as commonly understood in modern American lexicon is completely anti-ecological.  The real mechanism for scale is duplication.  A more democratized production creating volume through multiplicative nodes is the way nature works.  This is why farms like Polyface, with spread out infrastructure in repeated modules offers multiple advantages.                   Polyface can't feed the world by itself, and we have no desire to build an empire trying to.  But thousands of Polyfaces can feed the world.  Indeed, they're the only way to do it for the next 500 years.  This is one reason why we invest heavily in germinating new young farmers. Our stewardship and apprenticeship programs are all about this kind of duplication.                   In fact, Aug. 21-22 we're hosting the Stockman Grass Farmer's Launching Young Farmers conference where we'll feature 8 of our graduates who were 20 years old, no money, no land, and at 40 are full-time farming without government subsidies.  If you ever dreamed of bootstrapping a farming career, you should come.  We still have room.  It will be the most profound agricultural conference in America this year.  Information is on our website on the education tab.                   For most of you, the fact that you keep us in business to duplicate production and the farmers who will carry these principles forward, indicates your heart investing in an authentic food and farming model.  Thank you for making it all possible.