Study shows that the health benefits of organic produce are negligible

A tomato by any other name would taste exactly the same.

It is a scientific fact that people who buy organic food are smugger than your average fertilizer-guzzling pleb. Anecdotal case-in-point: I once knew a guy who was reluctant to eat anything at my house because it was from Tesco’s (shakes fist at soulless corporate bastards) and non-organic. Obviously, I was unfortunate enough to cross paths with the wretched 0.001 per cent everyone talks about - you know, the kind that is rude enough to look down on perfectly fine food because it’s non-organic. Consequently, I am a worse, more bitter person for it, so please take the following blog post with a pinch of fleur de sel.

And so, although the organic food debate has been done to death since about 2005, I’ll take recent research evidence from Stanford (a meta-analysis of 237 studies written in English) as an opportunity to smugly point out that organic food may very well be the most effective marketing ploy of recent times. As the New York Times highlights:

They concluded that fruits and vegetables labeled organic were, on average, no more nutritious than their conventional counterparts, which tend to be far less expensive. Nor were they any less likely to be contaminated by dangerous bacteria like E. coli.

The researchers also found no obvious health advantages to organic meats.

Conventional fruits and vegetables did have more pesticide residue, but the levels were almost always under the allowed safety limits, the scientists said. The Environmental Protection Agency sets the limits at levels that it says do not harm humans.

As noted by Businessinsider, the main finding in favour of the organic food cause was that organic produce is 30 per cent less likely to contain traces of pesticides. The researchers note that small levels of pesticides don’t hurt anyone, but also point to various studies have shown that children who consumed fewer pesticides had higher IQs later in life. (I haven’t actually read these studies, but am, on the outset, skeptical of accepting causality – the types of parents who actively worry about feeding their kids fertilizers are probably as concerned in other spheres as well). Of course, for the sake of fairness, it is worth pointing out that the US ‘certified organic’ label is a bit of a fraud anyway, and may have distorted the study.

Still, most people don’t pay a 10 to 40 per cent premium for the added nutritional value. Many cite environmental concerns as their main reason for doing so. But the environmental benefits of forgoing potentially ecosystem-disrupting pesticides in favour of less efficient, more resource-intensive crops are at best contentious.

Not to mention the fact that were it not for the Green Revolution, we’d probably be eating each other in an apocalyptic Malthusian nightmare. (But at least we’d be eating pesticide-free thumbsticks).

But this isn’t about rehashing the pro/cons of organic eating. It’s about the fact that there is a new Organic Café on Kingsland Road, a few shops away from the Organic Supermarket. What does that even mean? A café “of, relating to, or deriving from living matter”? The organic label has made hitherto undifferentiated commodities into bastions of socially acceptable snobbery, artificially (rather than organically) distinguishing “luxury” or premium goods from normal - or in some people’s eyes - inferior, products (cf. opening anecdote - not at all resentful). The fact that there are no appreciable benefits to organic produce can only mean that an organic tomato has become a Veblen good for which demand increases with price. It is not a Gucci bag, but the principle is more or less the same; in this case, consumption is slightly less conspicuous in the sense that it points to a certain lifestyle rather than serving as an explicit demonstration of wealth (which would be crude). 

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Who "speaks for England" - and for that matter, what is "England"?

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones.

The Hollywood producer Sam Gold­wyn once demanded, “Let’s have some new clichés.” The Daily Mail, however, is always happiest with the old ones. It trotted out Leo Amery’s House of Commons call from September 1939, “Speak for England”, for the headline on a deranged leader that filled a picture-free front page on David Cameron’s “deal” to keep Britain in the EU.

Demands that somebody or other speak for England have followed thick and fast ever since Amery addressed his call to Labour’s Arthur Greenwood when Neville Chamberlain was still dithering over war with Hitler. Tory MPs shouted, “Speak for England!” when Michael Foot, the then Labour leader, rose in the Commons in 1982 after Argentina’s invasion of the Falklands. The Mail columnist Andrew Alexander called on Clare Short to “speak for England” over the Iraq War in 2003. “Can [Ed] Miliband speak for England?” Anthony Barnett asked in this very magazine in 2013. (Judging by the 2015 election result, one would say not.) “I speak for England,” claimed John Redwood last year. “Labour must speak for England,” countered Frank Field soon afterwards.

The Mail’s invocation of Amery was misconceived for two reasons. First, Amery wanted us to wage war in Europe in support of Hitler’s victims in Poland and elsewhere and in alliance with France, not to isolate ourselves from the continent. Second, “speak for England” in recent years has been used in support of “English votes for English laws”, following proposals for further devolution to Scotland. As the Mail was among the most adamant in demanding that Scots keep their noses out of English affairs, it’s a bit rich of it now to state “of course, by ‘England’. . . we mean the whole of the United Kingdom”.

 

EU immemorial

The Mail is also wrong in arguing that “we are at a crossroads in our island history”. The suggestion that the choice is between “submitting to a statist, unelected bureaucracy in Brussels” and reclaiming our ancient island liberties is pure nonsense. In the long run, withdrawing from the EU will make little difference. Levels of immigration will be determined, as they always have been, mainly by employers’ demands for labour and the difficulties of policing the borders of a country that has become a leading international transport hub. The terms on which we continue to trade with EU members will be determined largely by unelected bureaucrats in Brussels after discussions with unelected bureaucrats in London.

The British are bored by the EU and the interminable Westminster arguments. If voters support Brexit, it will probably be because they then expect to hear no more on the subject. They will be sadly mistaken. The withdrawal negotiations will take years, with the Farages and Duncan Smiths still foaming at the mouth, Cameron still claiming phoney victories and Angela Merkel, François Hollande and the dreaded Jean-Claude Juncker playing a bigger part in our lives than ever.

 

An empty cabinet

Meanwhile, one wonders what has become of Jeremy Corbyn or, indeed, the rest of the shadow cabinet. The Mail’s “speak for England” leader excoriated him for not mentioning “the Number One subject of the hour” at PM’s Questions but instead asking about a shortage of therapeutic radiographers in the NHS. In fact, the NHS’s problems – almost wholly caused by Tory “reforms” and spending cuts – would concern more people than does our future in the EU. But radiographers are hardly headline news, and Corbyn and his team seem unable to get anything into the nation’s “any other business”, never mind to the top of its agenda.

Public services deteriorate by the day, George Osborne’s fiscal plans look increasingly awry, and attempts to wring tax receipts out of big corporations appear hopelessly inadequate. Yet since Christmas I have hardly seen a shadow minister featured in the papers or spotted one on TV, except to say something about Trident, another subject that most voters don’t care about.

 

Incurable prose

According to the Guardian’s admirable but (let’s be honest) rather tedious series celeb­rating the NHS, a US health-care firm has advised investors that “privatisation of the UK marketplace . . . should create organic and de novo opportunities”. I have no idea what this means, though it sounds ominous. But I am quite certain I don’t want my local hospital or GP practice run by people who write prose like that.

 

Fashionable Foxes

My home-town football team, Leicester City, are normally so unfashionable that they’re not even fashionable in Leicester, where the smart set mostly watch the rugby union team Leicester Tigers. Even when they installed themselves near the top of the Premier League before Christmas, newspapers scarcely noticed them.

Now, with the Foxes five points clear at the top and 7-4 favourites for their first title, that mistake is corrected and the sports pages are running out of superlatives, a comparison with Barcelona being the most improbable. Even I, not a football enthusiast, have watched a few matches. If more football were played as Leicester play it – moving at speed towards their opponents’ goal rather than aimlessly weaving pretty patterns in midfield – I would watch the game more.

Nevertheless, I recall 1963, when Leicester headed the old First Division with five games to play. They picked up only one more point and finished fourth, nine points adrift of the league winners, Everton.

 

Gum unstuck

No, I don’t chew toothpaste to stop me smoking, as the last week’s column strangely suggested. I chew Nicorette gum, a reference written at some stage but somehow lost (probably by me) before it reached print.

Editor: The chief sub apologises for this mistake, which was hers

Peter Wilby was editor of the Independent on Sunday from 1995 to 1996 and of the New Statesman from 1998 to 2005. He writes the weekly First Thoughts column for the NS.

This article first appeared in the 11 February 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The legacy of Europe's worst battle