Native Hawaiians have always understood the value of water. In the Hawaiian language, the word for fresh water is “wai”—and the word for wealth is “waiwai.” An essential asset, water was a resource Hawaiians shared, and they made sure to return what they didn’t use back to the stream.

But the 19th-century sugar barons who diverted water to irrigate their plantations did not share those traditions. On Maui, the most important was Alexander & Baldwin, founded in 1870 by the sons of missionaries, which wielded great political and economic power for more than a century. At its height, it sustained its operations by draining plentiful streams of 165 million gallons a day to irrigate its plantation in Maui’s central plain, moving it through 70 miles of tunnels, ditches, flumes, and reservoirs. As stream levels dropped and taro patches dried up, Native Hawaiians, unable to grow their own food, were forced to move.

The network became a subsidiary company—East Maui Irrigation—which still controls this water diversion system. Today, EMI is jointly owned by Alexander & Baldwin and agribusiness company Mahi Pono.

EMI has been the source of long-running legal battles on Maui, as farmers and environmental groups seek to stop it from sucking up fresh water from the island’s streams. “For more than two decades, Native Hawaiians and the environmental community have been using legal avenues to try to restore at least some flow to these streams,” says Sierra Club attorney David Frankel. “At every turn, A&B and [the Board of Land and Natural Resources] have worked hand-in-hand to thwart those efforts.”  

An A&B spokesperson disputes this. “There are laws and statutes in Hawaii that govern the flow of water in streams and these legal processes were followed by the BLNR, A&B, and the Native Hawaiian and environmental communities,” the spokesperson says. “Significant amounts of water have been restored to East Maui streams. A number of priority streams…have been permanently and fully restored and will not be diverted in the future.”

The battle over Maui’s water supply intensified last August, when wildfires tore through the island and devastated the community of Lahaina. Earlier that summer, EMI’s legal opponents had scored a victory when a state court reduced the amount it could suck up from Maui’s streams by a quarter. But a day after the historic town was all but wiped out, the state of Hawaii petitioned its Supreme Court to stop the court order and increase the amount of water diverted, ostensibly for the purpose of fighting fires in Upcountry Maui.

The state’s petition seemed like a backdoor way to reverse the earlier ruling against EMI, especially when it soon became clear there was more than enough water available to fight the Upcountry fires. And it raised local suspicions that the state was doing the bidding of corporations.

Frankel called the effort a “brazen attempt to capitalize on tragedy to subvert the judicial process.” The state Supreme Court ultimately denied the petition. But a year after the Maui fires, the fight at the heart of that case—over who controls the island’s water supply, public or private interests—remains as fierce as ever.

Hawaii’s sugar plantations started closing one by one in the 1950s, as production moved to countries where costs were lower. The last of them, A&B’s Central Maui sugar operation, shut down in 2016. The company is now in the commercial real estate and development business, with a portfolio spanning 39 properties and 3,500 acres across Hawaii.

On Maui, A&B’s legacy remains complicated. For some it is an extractive force that has denied Native farmers their cultural lifestyle. For others, it is a benevolent presence that provided jobs, medical care, housing, and scholarships for students. “A&B was a major employer on Maui for over a century,” says Lucienne de Naie, the chairperson of Sierra Club Maui Group. “There were people who were very grateful to A&B. They gave immigrants a chance to work in the fields.” But cross the company, de Naie says, and “you were blackballed. It was hard to get any kind of job on Maui.”

Because of its history on the island, any issue having to do with A&B, including water, has deeply divided the island community. “While we can’t speak for our predecessors, we are encouraged by the re-emergence of taro cultivation as a cultural practice and important food source in East Maui,” says an A&B spokesperson.

De Naie lives in Huelo, a small town in northeastern Maui, where there is no public water supply. Residents retrieve water from streams or through water catchment. If those sources are dry, they have to purchase water. “We live in an area where our water is taken for other people to use, but we have to buy water from people that come in trucks and deliver it,” de Naie says.

Hawaii’s constitution declares that water is a public trust for the benefit of all citizens, and the state government is the only entity that can administer this resource. But there’s a loophole: Businesses, such as A&B, can control and sell the use of their water diversion systems.

“The operators of the diversion system end up having a significant amount of leverage over who gets how much water,” says Jonathan Scheuer, co-author of the book Water and Power in West Maui. “This is partly because of the amount of information they have available on how the system operates. Other players have to trust them often when they say this is how much water is available.”

The state leases water rights to EMI and other companies. For decades, EMI has received one-year revocable permits from BLNR to divert water from Maui’s streams. In exchange for the use of water for its own purposes, EMI must deliver water to rural residents in Upcountry Maui, for which it is paid 6 cents per thousand gallons by the Maui Department of Water Supply.

In 2018, the newly incorporated company Mahi Pono bought 41,000 acres of former plantation lands from A&B for $262 million, making it Maui’s largest landowner. The deal also included a 50 percent interest in EMI for $2.7 million.

The company currently employs 350 Maui residents. By the end of 2024, it projects it will complete planting 14,830 acres with a variety of crops, including citrus, coffee, macadamia nut, watermelon, and onions.

Though Mahi Pono’s name is Hawaiian—it means “to grow responsibly”—the company is not. It is majority owned by Canada’s Public Sector Pension Investment Board (PSP), which manages approximately $200 billion in assets and has been buying up water rights worldwide as long-term investments.

“It makes perfect sense for them to invest in water,” says Shay Chan Hodges. She served as vice chair of the Maui County Board of Water Supply from 2018 to 2019, and chair from 2019 to 2021. “Obviously there’s value to 40,000 acres of land, but the real value is the water attached to that land.”

That’s something A&B and Mahi Pono evidently agree on, too. Per their sales contract, if A&B is unable to secure water leases with the state of at least 30 million gallons per day or if it’s unable to secure a long-term water lease of 30 years, it must pay Mahi Pono rebates of up to $62 million. Indeed, Mahi Pono’s allocation had been cut below that contractual threshold shortly before the state and A&B petitioned to increase the water usage of the East Maui Irrigation System last August in the wake of the Lahaina blaze.

“If Mahi Pono can obtain a 30-year lease from the state allowing for tens of millions of gallons a day (upwards of 90 mgd), the lease itself is an asset that can be monetized and potentially transferred or sold. This adds significant value to Mahi Pono’s holdings,” says Hodges.

After the Mahi Pono deal, A&B moved quickly to pursue a 30-year lease to divert up to 92 million gallons per day from Maui’s streams, with 85 mgd earmarked for Mahi Pono’s agricultural holdings. As part of its lease application, EMI filed an environmental impact statement that made plain the Faustian bargain at the heart of Maui’s water system. If it was not granted water rights, its water deliveries “would terminate,” a prospect that would leave tens of thousands of Maui residents without access to fresh water.

This language predictably caused local alarm, and the Maui County Board Department of Water Supply created a Temporary Investigative Group in 2019 to research the feasibility of purchasing and maintaining the EMI system.

“The Temporary Investigative Group believed that public ownership of the system was necessary for protecting the public health,” says Hodges, who was part of the group. “Because why are we being held hostage? The basic message was, ‘if you don’t do what we say, you won’t get any water.’”

Hodges and her colleagues recommended either purchasing or condemning the EMI system, or for the mayor to step in to acquire the long-term leases and give control back to the government, but nothing came of it.

For years, A&B and Mahi Pono have sought to influence local politics. “These corporations’ executives have held a number of influential positions in both the state and county governments,” says Keani Rawlins-Fernandez, a member of the Maui County Council. “A&B and Mahi Pono have long donated tremendous amounts to elected officials’ campaigns.”

Hannibal Tavares, one of Maui’s former mayors, was a veteran of the sugar industry and an employee of A&B prior to winning office in 1979. The current vice president of A&B also served on the state’s Commission on Water Resource Management (the arm that decides how much water companies can divert) from 2002 to 2005 while working for A&B. Another sugar industry leader twice served on the commission.

Since 2006, A&B and its top executives have given hundreds of thousands of dollars to state and county politicians. They’ve donated more than $10,000 to Gov. Josh Green in the past two years. Mahi Pono’s executives began donating to political campaigns in 2020. Thousands of those contributions flowed to Green, too.

“This is a case of our elected leaders choosing to be beholden to a private entity,” Hodges says.

Even before last year’s wildfires reinvigorated the fight over Maui’s water supply, activists had begun to gain some ground in their effort to wrest control from A&B and Mahi Pono.

Since the former and present mayor didn’t step in, in 2022, voters approved the creation of the East Maui Community Board water authority, which gives the people the power to negotiate water leases with the state. Hodges says she was surprised there was no pushback from corporations when it was put on the ballot, but there was some controversy with the appointment of its 11-member board. After the deadline to apply had closed, the county council received requests to open the process up again.

When the county did so, new applicants included a former Mahi Pono executive and former Mayor Alan Arakawa, who had opposed the water authority and said it would “kill Mahi Pono.” (When the 11-member board was eventually approved, it included Arakawa, taro farmers and several water resource experts, including Scheuer, who became the chair.)

Delayed by the fire, the water board began holding bimonthly meetings in February, and the director seat will soon be filled. But whether the community water authority and board successfully take East Maui water leases out of the hands of A&B and Mahi Pono, or if more challenges emerge, remains to be seen. If successful, it would be the first time in more than 100 years that the people of East Maui, and not a private corporation, will determine how its water is divided and shared. It could prove to be a model for the rest of the island, where other corporations hold its own separate systems.

Currently, EMI has a one-year lease from the state covering 2024, allowing 31.25 million gallons per day to be diverted from East Maui’s streams to Mahi Pono’s land—and the Sierra Club Maui is keeping a sharp eye as its legal battles continue. It’s fighting to stop the issuance of one-year leases, which avoids the rigorous review afforded to long-term leases.

De Naie says these court battles will make a difference for the future. “Eventually…we will see a standard set for trusteeship of public resources that should have been in place in the first place.”

Sen. JD Vance (R-Ohio) said a lot of wild things during his Sunday morning media blitz. But one of his comments has received far less attention than the others: Vance described a federal program that has distributed nearly $2 billion to mostly Black farmers who experienced discrimination as “disgraceful,” suggesting that it is racist against white people.

And now, the head of the largest group of Black farmers across the country is condemning Vance’s assertions.

“He owes us an apology,” John Boyd, Jr., founder and president of the National Black Farmers Association, told me. The remarks, Boyd added, were “disgraceful, deplorable, dumb, degrading, and disrespectful to the nation’s Black farmers, the oldest occupation in history for Black people.”

A spokesperson for Vance also did not respond to questions from Mother Jones beyond requesting that we include the senator’s full remarks, which came during an appearance on CBS’s Face the Nation, during which Vance was asked about the racist attacks against his wife, Usha Vance. After condemning them, he added:

I frankly think that unfortunately, a lot of people on the left have leaned into this by trying to categorize people by skin color and then give special benefits or special amounts of discrimination. The Harris Administration, for example, handed out farm benefits to people based on skin color. I think that’s disgraceful. I don’t think we should say, you get farm benefits if you’re a Black farmer, you don’t get farm benefits if you’re a white farmer. All farmers, we want to thrive, and that’s certainly the President Trump and JD Vance view of the situation.

But Vance’s assertions here are an inaccurate portrayal of the Discrimination Financial Assistance Program, the federal program established through the Inflation Reduction Act. Contrary to Vance’s claim, applicants were not limited to Black farmers; Any farmer who had experienced discrimination by the US Department of Agriculture—including based on sexual orientation or gender identity, religion, age, or disability—was eligible to apply. Last month, the USDA announced it had distributed payments to more than 43,000 people in all 50 states through the program, which Congress allocated $2.2 billion for.

While the USDA has not released data on the racial breakdown of farmers who received money through DFAP, Boyd said 85 percent of the funds went to Black farmers “because it’s obvious we were treated the worst.” The history of the government’s discrimination against Black farmers specifically is well-documented, including in Mother Jones‘ recent award-winning investigation, “40 Acres and a Lie“—done in collaboration with the Center for Public Integrity and Reveal—which documents how the federal government stole land it gave to Black farmers following the Civil War. Black farmers also faced barriers to receiving loans, credit, and support compared to white farmers.

Still, that hasn’t stopped some white people—including Vance and Sen. Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.)—from trying to claim federal aid to Black farmers perpetuates “reverse racism.” White farmers have also filed lawsuits against promised debt relief for Black farmers that Congress approved in 2021, claiming it discriminated against them.

Supporting the Trump-Vance ticket was now “off the table,” Boyd said in response to Vance’s remarks. Though he called Vice President Kamala Harris a “breath of fresh air,” Boyd called on Harris to commit support to Black farmers before the election—specifically, through debt relief for Black farmers. The Harris campaign did not respond to requests for comment.

In the meantime, Boyd is still waiting for an apology from Vance—but he’s not holding his breath. “We got the money,” Boyd said. DFAP, he added, was “a huge victory for Black farmers.”

Last week, the Environmental Protection Agency announced it was permanently suspending its approval of the widely used pesticide, Dacthal, amid a barrage of evidence of damaging, lasting effects on reproductive and fetal health—most notably among pregnant farmworkers. It is the most significant action the agency has taken on a pesticide in decades. 

Dacthal, the trade name of dimethyl tetrachloroterephthalate (DCPA), is used to prevent weeds from growing and has been used on a variety of crops like strawberries, spinach, celery, and garlic since the late 1950s. 

The historic action comes after years of delays, mostly on the part of its manufacturer, the agricultural conglomerate AMVAC, which took 11 years to submit full data on its product—forcing the EPA to delay its decision on the chemical. The agency classified the chemical as a potential carcinogen in 1995; it has been banned in the European Union since 2009. 

“We’ve known for quite a long time that [Dachtal] is really precarious in terms of exposure to mothers during pregnancy or in the preconception period,” said Carmen Messerlian, a reproductive health scientist at Harvard University’s T.H. Chan School of Public Health. “The data is pretty conclusive, showing significant risk to unborn fetuses, specific outcomes related to neurodevelopmental problems, as well as low birth weight and IQ.” 

“We’re happy that they’re going to suspend it. That’s a really big step, because I think it’s been 40 years since EPA has taken a step like that to suspend a pesticide,” said Jeannie Economos, coordinator of the Pesticide Safety and Environmental Health Program of the Farmworker Association of Florida. 

“We know that the bureaucratic process is long, we know that EPA does have to negotiate with [AMVAC], so we take that all into consideration, and we’re grateful for all the work that went into it,” said Economos. “But at the same time, it is terrifying that these pesticides are allowed in the market in the first place.”

Another harmful aspect of DCPA is how long it lingers on and around crops and fields treated with the pesticide. Its manufacturer claims that fields treated with Dachtal are safe to enter after 12 hours—but the EPA said it had evidence that fields retained unsafe levels of the pesticide for up to 25 days. 

It also tends to travel beyond the crops it’s intended to work on. This concept, called pesticide drift, also means that workers and adjacent communities are at risk because of the toxicity of DCPA—especially given that its labeling downplays that risk.

Pesticides like DCPA remain on the market even as scientific evidence increasingly confirmed carcinogenic and other detrimental health impacts in part because such products, by default, are treated as safe unless shown otherwise. The onus is on agencies like the EPA and FDA to gather direct scientific evidence that products do harm, not on the manufacturers to prove they don’t. 

That dynamic doesn’t exist in much of Europe, or in Canada; under those systems, any evidence-based concerns about the safety of industrial products, like pesticides, necessitate that manufacturers prove the product is safe before exposing the public to it. 

“I think DCPA is a really good case study about how the pesticide regulatory system is really broken,” said Alexis Temkin, a senior toxicologist at the Environmental Working Group, an advocacy organization that works to protect human and environmental health from toxic chemicals.”It’s supposed to be that the most vulnerable are protected—that’s the most highly exposed, like farmworkers and the most sensitive, like pregnant people and children time and time again, we’ve seen it play out that that’s not necessarily the case.” 

Temkin has been studying DCPA since 2018, when she analyzed USDA data which eventually showed how prevalent it was in kale. She was concerned that people attempting to eat healthier might be exposed to more of a toxic chemical than they realized. 

“About 60 percent of those kale samples” contained DCPA, Temkin said. “As soon as I started investigating what the health effects were, we started to see: it had impacts on the thyroid, as well as the liver and lungs.” 

Messerlian points out that despite regulatory inaction, responsibility for DCPA’s continued harm to the public lies with its manufacturer. AMVAC “failed to do due diligence to protect the public,” she said. “Thousands of babies have been exposed. Mothers have been exposed, fetuses have been exposed, and the cost of that is human life, human suffering, at the benefit of companies that continue to profit off agricultural workers.”

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

Urban ducks and crows might offer us a connection to nature, but scientists have found wild birds that live near humans are more likely to harbor bacteria resistant to important antibiotics.

Antimicrobial resistance is largely caused by the overuse of drugs such as antibiotics among humans and livestock. The issue is of serious concern: According to data for 2019, almost 5 million deaths globally were associated with bacterial AMR, including 1.3 million directly caused by such resistance.

Researchers say species of wild birds that tend to turn up in urban settings are reservoirs for bacteria with the hallmarks of resistance to a host of drugs. “Basically what we’re seeing are genes that confer resistance to antimicrobials that would be used to treat human infections,” said Samuel Sheppard, co-author of the research from the Ineos Oxford Institute for antimicrobial research.

The team say their findings are important, as wild birds have the capacity to travel over considerable distances. Sheppard said a key concern was that these birds could pass antimicrobial-resistant bacteria to captive birds destined to be eaten by humans—such as those kept in poultry farms.

“Increasing contact between urban birds and poultry raises significant concerns about indirect transmission through the food chain.”

Writing in the journal Current Biology, Sheppard and colleagues report how they analyzed the genomes of bacteria found in 700 samples of bird poo from 30 wild bird species in Canada, Finland, Italy, Lithuania, Japan, Sweden, the UK and the United States.

The team looked specifically at the presence of different strains of Campylobacter jejuni—a type of bacteria that are ubiquitous in birds as a natural part of their gut microbiome. Such bacteria are a leading cause of human gastroenteritis, although antibiotics are generally only used in severe cases.

Sheppard added that, in general, each wild bird would be expected to harbor a single strain of C. jejuni, specific to that species. However, the team found wild birds that turn up in urban settings contain many more strains of C. jejuni than those that live away from humans.

What’s more, the strains found in urban-dwelling species contained about three times as many genes known to result in antimicrobial resistance, with these genes also associated with resistance to a broader range of antimicrobials.

The authors suggest that wild birds may pick up antimicrobial-resistant bacteria in a number of ways: gulls and crows, for example, are known to lurk at landfill sites, while ducks and geese may pick them up in rivers and lakes that are contaminated with human wastewater.

Dr Thomas Van Boeckel, anexpert in antimicrobial resistance at ETH Zürich who was not involved in the work, said the research was unusual as it focused on the impact of antimicrobial use by humans on animals. “What are the consequences of that for the birds? We don’t really know but it seems like we humans are responsible for this change,” he said.

Danna Gifford from the University of Manchester added the findings could have implications for human health. “While alarming, the risk of direct transmission of resistance from urban birds to humans is unclear. Poultry-to-human transmission, however, is well documented,” she said. “With urban development encroaching on agricultural land, increasing contact between urban birds and poultry raises significant concerns about indirect transmission through the food chain.”

Andrew Singer, of the UK Centre for Ecology & Hydrology, said more samples were needed to ensure the results stood up, but that precautions could be taken.

“The most obvious place to start is to ensure birds do not congregate in our landfills, wastewater treatment plants and animal muck piles, where both pathogens and AMR are abundant,” he said. “Moreover, we must also eliminate the discharge of untreated sewage into our rivers, which exposes all river-using wildlife—and humans—to human-associated pathogens and AMR.”

As this year’s temperatures continue to break records, farmworkers who toil in the heat remain one of the groups most vulnerable to heat-related illnesses. But another element of their jobs is making extreme heat even more dangerous: pesticide drift.

When it is hotter outside, pesticides tend to evaporate faster, explains Nicole Deziel, an environmental health scientist at the Yale School of Public Health. This, in turn, impacts how much of the pesticide actually reaches the crop. Any that doesn’t usually sticks around in the air—and can travel miles offsite. Pesticide drift means that the toxic chemicals spread further than ever intended, affecting farmworkers and adjacent communities.

Once airborne, those pesticides can linger in surrounding air for as long as five days, according to reports authored by the Pesticide Action Network, an advocacy coalition that opposes their pervasive use in industrial agriculture. Pesticide drift is a common problem that affects nearly every farming community in the US—whether crops are sprayed by hand, through fumigation, or via planes.

Now, the federal government is finally trying to tackle the issue. In mid-July, the Environmental Protection Agency announced rules that would incorporate pesticide drift into its guidelines for approving new products and active ingredients: it plans to assess drift-related health risks “earlier in the agency’s review process,” the EPA said in a press release. While the release didn’t directly mention climate change or extreme heat, the agency did tell Mother Jones that environmental justice was a key factor in the guideline change.

“With this change, the agency is furthering protections to bystanders wherever pesticide spray drift may occur, and thereby strengthening protections associated with the use of pesticide products,” said EPA spokesperson Tim Carroll.

The EPA’s new rules are intended to protect people from the effects of drift. But Jeannie Economos, a pesticide health and safety officer for the Farmworker Association of Florida, is skeptical that they will be effective, particularly because the guidelines only outline drift as a concern for mostly new products. The only existing products to get reviewed will be pesticides that manufacturers are trying to apply for a purpose not previously approved. (The EPA does periodically review pesticides that it has already approved, and on Tuesday banned one, Dacthal, because of the reproductive health risks it posed to pregnant people.)

The tendency of pesticides to evaporate under heat is so well documented that multiple agricultural agencies and university departments have put out specific guidelines asking farmers and growers to be mindful of the temperature in order to reduce potential drift. A study published last year in the journal Nature found that hotter and more humid conditions brought about specifically by climate change made pesticides evaporate more quickly.

But one important part of understanding pesticide drift on a hotter planet is that we don’t know exactly how every pesticide will react to extreme heat—information that could be vital to understanding how long they’ll stick around post-application, and how far they’ll travel, according to Emily Marquez, senior scientist at the Pesticide Action Network. “Now that it’s getting hotter, there’s maybe more potential for things to change, or be less predictable,” says Marquez.

That makes farm work more dangerous in a number of ways, says Yale’s Deziel. “If it is hot, workers may be less likely to wear full, personal protective equipment—they may have more skin exposed,” she says.  

Even if workers do wear personal protective equipment, like gloves, heat can actually increase the amount of pesticides that penetrate safety gear, according to research published in the International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health in 2019.

Deziel, who has been studying pesticides for more than a decade, points out that the health risks are not negligible: everything from nausea, skin irritation, or headaches in after short-term exposure to problems to cancer, reproductive problems, and neurological effects after long-term exposure.

Economos has been working on the issue for decades, and has worked with the EPA and other agencies to try to ensure that proposed rules or guidelines put farmworkers first. Often, she says, even after rules change, there’s more work to be done.

“We fought for 20 years and we won in 2015 to get better protections for workers [from pesticides],” she said. “So it took only 20 years to do that. But then you have the problem of compliance and enforcement.”

Another complicating factor, she says, is that a huge portion of farmworkers endangered by pesticide drift are immigrants. Most US farmworkers are foreign-born, and many take part in a seasonal immigration program, the H-2A visa, which means they are authorized to come into the country to assist growers with different aspects of the growing season, particularly harvesting, and must then return to their country of origin. In 2022, over 350,000 people came into the US through the H-2A program. 

A large, temporary, nonresident workforce means that for any exposures that happen, a large portion of people won’t be in the US long enough for longer-term or chronic illnesses from pesticide exposure to appear, according to Economos. An untold number of workers cycle in and out of the program, she says—and might never return, because people with health conditions are often not accepted in following years. If a short-term illness arises, workers are disincentivized from complaining, since their employer controls access to their immigration status and housing.

The EPA did not respond in time to questions about farmworkers’ employment or immigration conditions being used to suppress reports of pesticide exposure.

A 2024 Univision investigation found that after a worker in North Carolina, José Soria, was exposed to an herbicide based on the toxic compound paraquat, in 2020, his employer discouraged him from seeking medical care for painful blisters that developed on the left side of his body. He eventually required surgery to reconstruct the skin that was exposed. 

In Economos’ eyes, simply regulating pesticides is too small a step given the scale of harm they cause—instead, she says, we should be thinking about ways of farming that reduce or eliminate pesticide use.

“If they really wanted to protect farmworkers, then they wouldn’t be approving these horrible formulations,” she says.

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

A hundred years ago, the plant scientist Arthur Watkins launched a remarkable project. He began collecting samples of wheat from all over the globe, nagging consuls and business agents across the British empire and beyond to supply him with grain from local markets.

His persistence was exceptional and, a century later, it is about to reap dramatic results. A UK-Chinese collaboration has sequenced the DNA of all the 827 kinds of wheat, assembled by Watkins, that have been nurtured at the John Innes Centre near Norwich for most of the past century.

In doing so, scientists have created a genetic goldmine by pinpointing previously unknown genes that are now being used to create hardy varieties with improved yields that could help feed Earth’s swelling population.

Strains are now being developed that include wheat which is able to grow in salty soil, while researchers at Punjab Agricultural University are working to improve disease resistance from seeds that they received from the John Innes Centre. Other strains include those that would reduce the need for nitrogen fertilisers, the manufacture of which is a major source of carbon emissions.

The collection includes lost varieties that “will be invaluable in creating wheat that can provide healthy yields in the harsh conditions that now threaten agriculture.”

“Essentially we have uncovered a goldmine,” said Simon Griffiths, a geneticist at the John Innes Centre and one of the project’s leaders. “This is going to make an enormous difference to our ability to feed the world as it gets hotter and agriculture comes under increasing climatic strain.”

Today, one in five calories consumed by humans come from wheat, and every year the crop is eaten by more and more people as the world’s population continues to grow.

“Wheat has been a cornerstone of human civilization,” added Griffiths. “In regions such as Europe, north Africa, large parts of Asia, and subsequently North America, its cultivation fed great empires, from ancient Egypt’s to the growth of modern Britain.”

This wheat was derived from wild varieties that were originally domesticated and cultivated in the Fertile Crescent in the Middle East, 10,000 years ago. Many of these varieties and their genes have disappeared over the millennia, a process that was accelerated about a century ago as the science of plant breeding became increasingly sophisticated and varieties with properties that were then considered of no value were discarded.

“That is why the Watkins collection is so important,” said Griffiths. “It contains varieties that had been lost but which will be invaluable in creating wheat that can provide healthy yields in the harsh conditions that now threaten agriculture.”

The project’s other leader, Shifeng Cheng, a professor with the Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences, said: “We can retrace the novel, functional and beneficial diversity that were lost in modern wheats after the ‘green revolution’ in the 20th century, and have the opportunity to add them back into breeding programmes.”

Watkins realized that “genes that were then thought to be of little use and which were being deleted from strains might still have future value.”

Scientists had wanted to pinpoint and study the wheat genes in the Watkins collection after the development of large-scale DNA sequencing more than a decade ago, but faced an unusual problem. The genome of wheat is huge: it is made up of 17 billion units of DNA, compared with the 3 billion base pairs that make up the human genome.

“The wheat genome is full of ­little retro elements and that has made it more difficult and, crucially, more expensive to sequence,” said Griffiths. “However, thanks to our Chinese colleagues who carried out the detailed sequencing work, we have overcome that problem.”

Griffiths and his colleagues sent samples from the Watkins collection to Cheng and were rewarded three months later with the arrival of a suitcase crammed with hard drives. These contained a petabyte—1 million gigabytes—of data that had been decoded by the Chinese group using the Watkins collection.

Astonishingly, this data revealed that modern wheat varieties only make use of 40 percent of the genetic diversity found in the collection.

“We have found that the Watkins collection is packed full of useful variation which is simply absent in modern wheat,” said Griffiths.

These lost traits are now being tested by plant breeders with the aim of creating a host of new varieties that would have been forgotten if it had not been for the efforts of Arthur Watkins.

Arthur Watkins’ introduction to agriculture was unusual. At the age of 19, he was sent to fight in the trenches in the first world war. He survived, and for several months after the armistice he was ordered to remain in France to act as an assistant agricultural officer, tasked with helping local farmers feed the troops who were still waiting to be shipped home.

The post triggered his interest in agriculture and he applied to study it at Cambridge when he returned to Britain, said Simon Griffiths of the John Innes Centre. After graduating, Watkins—a shy, reserved academic—joined the university’s department of agriculture, where he began his life’s work: collecting wheat samples from across the planet.

“Crucially, Watkins had realized that, as we began breeding new wheat varieties, genes that were then thought to be of little use and which were being deleted from strains might still have future value,” said Griffiths.

“His thinking was incredibly ahead of its time. He realised that genetic diversity—in this case, of wheat—was being eroded and that we badly needed to halt that.

“Very few scientists were thinking of this issue in those days. Watkins was clearly thinking well ahead of his time, and we have much to be grateful for that.”

This story was originally published by the Guardian and is reproduced here as part of the Climate Desk collaboration.

A hundred years ago, the plant scientist Arthur Watkins launched a remarkable project. He began collecting samples of wheat from all over the globe, nagging consuls and business agents across the British empire and beyond to supply him with grain from local markets.

His persistence was exceptional and, a century later, it is about to reap dramatic results. A UK-Chinese collaboration has sequenced the DNA of all the 827 kinds of wheat, assembled by Watkins, that have been nurtured at the John Innes Centre near Norwich for most of the past century.

In doing so, scientists have created a genetic goldmine by pinpointing previously unknown genes that are now being used to create hardy varieties with improved yields that could help feed Earth’s swelling population.

Strains are now being developed that include wheat which is able to grow in salty soil, while researchers at Punjab Agricultural University are working to improve disease resistance from seeds that they received from the John Innes Centre. Other strains include those that would reduce the need for nitrogen fertilisers, the manufacture of which is a major source of carbon emissions.

The collection includes lost varieties that “will be invaluable in creating wheat that can provide healthy yields in the harsh conditions that now threaten agriculture.”

“Essentially we have uncovered a goldmine,” said Simon Griffiths, a geneticist at the John Innes Centre and one of the project’s leaders. “This is going to make an enormous difference to our ability to feed the world as it gets hotter and agriculture comes under increasing climatic strain.”

Today, one in five calories consumed by humans come from wheat, and every year the crop is eaten by more and more people as the world’s population continues to grow.

“Wheat has been a cornerstone of human civilization,” added Griffiths. “In regions such as Europe, north Africa, large parts of Asia, and subsequently North America, its cultivation fed great empires, from ancient Egypt’s to the growth of modern Britain.”

This wheat was derived from wild varieties that were originally domesticated and cultivated in the Fertile Crescent in the Middle East, 10,000 years ago. Many of these varieties and their genes have disappeared over the millennia, a process that was accelerated about a century ago as the science of plant breeding became increasingly sophisticated and varieties with properties that were then considered of no value were discarded.

“That is why the Watkins collection is so important,” said Griffiths. “It contains varieties that had been lost but which will be invaluable in creating wheat that can provide healthy yields in the harsh conditions that now threaten agriculture.”

The project’s other leader, Shifeng Cheng, a professor with the Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences, said: “We can retrace the novel, functional and beneficial diversity that were lost in modern wheats after the ‘green revolution’ in the 20th century, and have the opportunity to add them back into breeding programmes.”

Watkins realized that “genes that were then thought to be of little use and which were being deleted from strains might still have future value.”

Scientists had wanted to pinpoint and study the wheat genes in the Watkins collection after the development of large-scale DNA sequencing more than a decade ago, but faced an unusual problem. The genome of wheat is huge: it is made up of 17 billion units of DNA, compared with the 3 billion base pairs that make up the human genome.

“The wheat genome is full of ­little retro elements and that has made it more difficult and, crucially, more expensive to sequence,” said Griffiths. “However, thanks to our Chinese colleagues who carried out the detailed sequencing work, we have overcome that problem.”

Griffiths and his colleagues sent samples from the Watkins collection to Cheng and were rewarded three months later with the arrival of a suitcase crammed with hard drives. These contained a petabyte—1 million gigabytes—of data that had been decoded by the Chinese group using the Watkins collection.

Astonishingly, this data revealed that modern wheat varieties only make use of 40 percent of the genetic diversity found in the collection.

“We have found that the Watkins collection is packed full of useful variation which is simply absent in modern wheat,” said Griffiths.

These lost traits are now being tested by plant breeders with the aim of creating a host of new varieties that would have been forgotten if it had not been for the efforts of Arthur Watkins.

Arthur Watkins’ introduction to agriculture was unusual. At the age of 19, he was sent to fight in the trenches in the first world war. He survived, and for several months after the armistice he was ordered to remain in France to act as an assistant agricultural officer, tasked with helping local farmers feed the troops who were still waiting to be shipped home.

The post triggered his interest in agriculture and he applied to study it at Cambridge when he returned to Britain, said Simon Griffiths of the John Innes Centre. After graduating, Watkins—a shy, reserved academic—joined the university’s department of agriculture, where he began his life’s work: collecting wheat samples from across the planet.

“Crucially, Watkins had realized that, as we began breeding new wheat varieties, genes that were then thought to be of little use and which were being deleted from strains might still have future value,” said Griffiths.

“His thinking was incredibly ahead of its time. He realised that genetic diversity—in this case, of wheat—was being eroded and that we badly needed to halt that.

“Very few scientists were thinking of this issue in those days. Watkins was clearly thinking well ahead of his time, and we have much to be grateful for that.”

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