Two turkey franks, hold the cheese

In response to “Burgernomics, indeed,” Leta asked me a good question: What’s the difference between eating chicken from a farm in Delaware and fresh broccoli from California’s Central Valley? (We live on the East Coast.) Isn’t trucking all that foliage cross-country less environmentally-friendly? Recent research by Christopher L. Weber and H. Scott Matthews attempts to answer that question. Their results are also discussed in a post by Jane Liaw. In short, Weber and Matthews’ findings are that it comes out the same, but for different reasons.

The Carnegie Mellon researchers looked at the life-cycle impact, from production to retail, in equivalent greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions, for the production of food for consumption in the United States, where food is analyzed as 50 commodities grouped into seven USDA-style categories. They use a methodology, informed by the work of Wassily Leontief, termed input−output life-cycle assessment (IO-LCA). Input-output analysis accounts for the fact that some goods are produced and shipped around only in order to make other goods for final consumption: chickens have to be fed corn that was grown somewhere else, broccoli has to be irrigated with water that has to be piped from somewhere else, and so forth. The approach aggregates across the country, so it’s not going to account for regional differences in production or consumption (compare the work of Colman and Päaster on wine production). Beyond that, I am limited in my ability to critique the methods of the paper.

The first figure that stands out from the paper is 12,000. That’s the number of equivalent ton-kilometers of freight, per household, required to meet food-demand in the U.S. in 1997. You could think of this as a monthly truckload of 1 metric ton of food (and products that went into making the food) travelling 1,000 km (600 miles) around the country, ending up at the supermarket, to feed a “typical family of four.” (The paper omits the “last mile” of transportation from store to home.) But only 25% of that freight mileage is part of the “direct” tier, from farm to retail. The remaining three-fourths is used in intermediate production.

When the numbers are crunched by food category, things get more interesting.

Final delivery (direct t-km) as a proportion of total transportation requirements varied from a low of 9% for red meat to a high of around 50% for fruits/vegetables, reflecting the more extensive supply chains of meat production (i.e., moving feed to animals) compared to human consumption of basic foods such as fruits/vegetables and grains.

But we’ve still got to work out the GHG impact. The researchers assign CO2-equivalences for ten modes of transport, including rail, truck, ocean (by container or bulk), air, and oil and gas pipeline (fertilizer feedstocks gotta get there somehow). Due to transmission losses, natural gas pipelines are only as efficient as trucks.

Once this calculation is made, the relative unimportance of local transport in the total picture begins to emerge.

Total GHG emissions are 8.1 t CO2e/household-yr, meaning delivery accounts for only 4% of total GHG emissions, and transportation as a whole accounts for 11%. Wholesaling and retailing of food account for another 5%, with production of food accounting for the vast majority (83%) of total emissions.

Within food production, which totaled 6.8 t CO2e/household-yr, 3.0 t CO2e (44%) were due to CO2 emissions, with 1.6 t (23%) due to methane, 2.1 t (32%) due to nitrous oxide, and 0.1 t (1%) due to HFCs and other industrial gases. Thus, a majority of food’s climate impact is due to non-CO2 greenhouse gases.

Okay, so what about the chicken-and-broccoli question? The paper presents the relative GHG effect by the seven commodity categories, scaled by weight, retail expenditure, and (most importantly, I believe) calorie content. By any of these measures, red meat comes out with the largest carbon footprint, followed by the milk and cheese category. Scaled by food energy content, the chicken/fish/eggs group matches the fruit and veg group.

The authors’ take-away message is that even a small change in diet can have a significant impact, given some additional reasonable assumptions. Just switching your calories for one day a week out of red meat and dairy and into veggies has the equivalent effect of a completely “localized” consumption habit.

… [but] this is conversely true for households which already exhibit low-GHG eating habits. For these households, freight emissions may be a much higher percentage of the total impacts of food, and especially will be important for fresh produce purchased out of season.

They also consider briefly the upswing in food imports into the U.S. Since ocean transport is relatively efficient (more than ten-to-one better than trucking), they infer that globalization has less of a deleterious effect than some fear.

It’s also worth noting that Weber and Matthews’ work is only concerned with GHG emissions. Other differential impacts on the environment by food category—for instance, land use, water quality, acid rain, noise pollution, and smog—are not part of their analysis.

Burgernomics, indeed

For the current issue of Scientific American, Nathan Fiala summarizes his own work as well as that of Susan Subak concerning the environment impact of producing beef, pork, and chicken—specifically, the contribution of livestock farming to greenhouse gases and hence to climate change. Some of the graphics include gratuitous elements or are poorly conceived, unfortunately something the magazine is becoming known for. But a key chart drives home the point: compared to vegetable production, growing meat makes a much bigger impact. While making a pound of potatoes entails generating 0.13 pound of CO2-equivalent gases, a pound of beef creates 57 times as much, 7.4 pounds of global warming gas. I would have preferred a closer apples-to-apples comparison that matched the various foodstuffs in terms of calories, and one that made it clear whether we’re talking food in the field or cooked, on the plate, but the force of the argument remains.

Fiala references the 2006 report from the UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO): Livestock’s Long Shadow. Going beyond livestock’s climate change effects, the report documents meat’s huge environmental footprint:

  • Livestock farming covers 30% of the planet’s landmass.
  • It is responsible for 18% of worldwide carbon dioxide-equivalent gas emissions, more than that of the transportation sector.
  • 8% of global water use goes into beef, chicken, and pork agriculture.

So it’s not surprising that the authors write in the Executive Summary:

The livestock sector emerges as one of the top two or three most significant contributors to the most serious environmental problems, at every scale from local to global. The findings of this report suggest that it should be a major policy focus when dealing with problems of land degradation, climate change and air pollution, water shortage and water pollution and loss of biodiversity.

Livestock’s contribution to environmental problems is on a massive scale and its potential contribution to their solution is equally large. The impact is so significant that it needs to be addressed with urgency. Major reductions in impact could be achieved at reasonable cost.

A green line

I got a chance to read Tyler Colman and Pablo Päaster’s white paper, “Red, White, and ‘Green’: The Cost of Carbon in the Global Wine Trade,” which is summarized in Colman’s post.

The authors perform a detailed analysis of the carbon footprint (in terms of greenhouse gas emissions) of the production and distribution of a bottle of wine for consumption in the United States. The independent variable in their computations is the location where the wine is produced—Australia, France, Argentina, or California. Although they also analyze the effects of different agricultural practices (organic farming as might be typical in the various regions) and other links in the chain (such as CO2 released by fermentation), it turns out that the predominant carbon contributor is the means of shipping the finished, bottled wine and the distance that it must be shipped. For instance, for delivery to Chicago, a hypothetical 750ml bottle of wine from the Napa Valley produces almost 4.5kg of carbon dioxide; 3kg is accounted for by truck shipment from California. By contrast, wine from France, which is shipped by relatively efficient container ship, produces 2.0kg; and even here, shipping accounts for more than half of the total. The other significant components include the production of bottles, land use, and consumption of oak for in-barrel aging.

The results enable the researchers to draw a “green line” across the Midwest and South: to the east of this line, it’s more emissions-efficient to consume wine shipped from France than trucked from California (or Washington, presumably). Of course, if you’re fortunate enough to live in a state that produces its own drinkable wine (like I do, in Virginia), an even better choice would be the local tipple. Buying by the 1.5l magnum also helps: as they say, “shipping wine is often really about shipping glass with some wine in it.”

Two other asides: First, a footnote gives the nod to the general sustainability of cork as a bottle closure. Second, the writers note that growing grapes requires a lot of water for what you harvest: 1.2 to 2.5 megaliters per hectare, or 550 kiloliters per ton of grapes. This is partly due to the fact that grapes don’t yield a lot of mass per hectare, compared to a crop like corn.

Arctic Symposium 2007

As a sort of chaser to Thursday’s post, I want to applaud the ecumenical convocation of world-wide religious leaders at the foot of a melting glacier in Greenland, as reported by ABC News and Reuters. Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, Christians of several stripes, and indigenous people united in a silent “prayer for the planet” as part of an effort to withstand global climate change. The event was part of a weeklong symposium sponsored by Religion, Science, and the Environment, an NGO based in Greece.

Market signals

Katherine Ellison looks at today’s carbon offset market. The upshot: offsets are helpful (though there are skeptics when it comes to forestry offsets), but you may not be getting what you pay for.

I returned to Stanford’s Schneider to ask what kinds of offsets he might buy. “It’s legitimate to put windmills in if you displace fossil-fuel power,” he said. “It’s legitimate to put coal emissions underground if you could figure out how to make that permanent. Financing a gas plant in India if they were going to put in coal would also be good.” The key with all of these is they reduce carbon emissions at their source.

No one is neutral

Andrew C. Revkin explains why I feel uneasy about the current carbon-offset market:

As long as the use of fossil fuels keeps climbing—which is happening relentlessly around the world—the emission of greenhouse gases will keep rising. The average American, by several estimates, generates more than 20 tons of carbon dioxide or related gases a year; the average resident of the planet about 4.5 tons.

At this rate, environmentalists say, buying someone else’s squelched emissions is all but insignificant.

The worst of the carbon-offset programs resemble the Catholic Church’s sale of indulgences back before the Reformation,” said Denis Hayes, the president of the Bullitt Foundation, an environmental grant-making group. “Instead of reducing their carbon footprints, people take private jets and stretch limos, and then think they can buy an indulgence to forgive their sins.”

“This whole game is badly in need of a modern Martin Luther,” Mr. Hayes added.