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Lab grown meat

Quartz.com just ran a piece taken from one of the chapters of Unnaturally Delicious on lab grown meat.  Here's the start:

On Aug. 5, 2013, Mark Post went out to grab a hamburger. This was no drive-through Big Mac. Rather, Post bit into his $325,000 burger in front of an invitation-only crowd of journalists, chefs, and food enthusiasts in the heart of London.

The strangest part wasn’t the cost or the crowd but the meat. Post, a professor of vascular physiology at Maastricht University in the Netherlands, grew the burger himself. Not from a cow on his farm, mind you, but from a bovine stem-cell in a petri dish in his lab. Post’s research, partially funded by Sergey Brin, one of Google’s co-founders, has the potential to upend conventional wisdom on the environmental, animal welfare, and health impacts of meat eating.

Ironically enough, I first met Post at a meeting of some of the world’s largest hog producers.

The Quartz editors left out what I think is one of the most important points made in the chapter about relative inefficiencies of meat eating.  So, for sake of completeness, here's the segment they left out (long time readers will recognize that I've touch one this theme in previous blog posts).

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More broadly, this line of argument – that meat production (inside the lab or out) is “wasteful” because it requires feed inputs that humans might use – is misplaced.  To see this, it is useful to consider a thought experiment – an imaginary story that might help us get to the bottom of things. 

Imagine a biologist on an excursion to the Amazon looking for new plant species.  She comes across a new grass she’s never before seen, and brings it back home to her lab.  She finds that the grass grows exceedingly well in greenhouses with the right fertilizer and soil, and she immediately moves to field trials.  She also notices that the grass produces a seed that is durable, storable, and extraordinarily calorie dense.  The scientist immediately recognizes the potential for the newly discovered plant to meet the dietary demands of a growing world population.

But, there is a problem.  Lab analysis reveals that the seeds are, alas, toxic to humans.  Despite the set-back, the scientist doesn’t give up.  She toils away year after year until she creates a machine that can convert the seeds into a food that is not only safe for humans to consume but that is incredibly delicious to eat.  There are a few downsides.  For every five calories that go into the machine, only one comes out.  Plus, the machine uses water, runs on electricity, burns fossil fuels, and creates carbon emissions. 

Should the scientist be condemned for her work?  Or, hailed as an ingenious hero for finding a plant that can inexpensively produce calories, and then creating a machine that can turn those calories into something people really want to eat?  Maybe another way to think about it is to ask whether the scientist’s new food can - despite its inefficiencies (which will make the price higher than it otherwise would be) - compete against other foods in the marketplace?  Are consumers willing to pay the higher price for this new food? 

Now, let’s call the new grass corn and the new machine cow. 

            This thought experiment is useful in thinking about the argument that corn is “wasted” in the process of feeding animals (or growing lab grown meat).  Yet, the idea that animal food is “wasted” is a common view.  For example, one set of authors in the journal Science wrote,

“Although crops used for animal feed ultimately produce human food in the form of meat and dairy products, they do so with a substantial loss of caloric efficiency. If current crop production used for animal feed and other nonfood uses (including biofuels) were targeted for direct consumption, ~70% more calories would become available, potentially providing enough calories to meet the basic needs of an additional 4 billion people. The human-edible crop calories that do not end up in the food system are referred to as the ‘diet gap.’”

The argument isn’t as convincing as it might first appear.  Few people really want to eat the calories that directly come from corn or other common animal feeds like soybeans.  Unlike my hypothetical example, corn is not toxic to humans (although some of the grasses cows eat really are inedible to humans), but most people don’t want to field corn.    

So if we don’t want to directly eat the stuff, why do we grow so much corn and soy?  They are incredibly efficient producers of calories and protein.  Stated differently, these crops (or grasses if you will) allow us to produce an inexpensive, bountiful supply of calories in a form that is storable and easily transported. 

The assumption seems to either be that the “diet gap” will be solved by convincing people to eat the calories in corn and soy directly, or that there are other tasty crops that can be widely grown instead of corn and soy which can produce calories as efficiently as corn and soy.  Aside from maybe rice or wheat (which also require some processing to become edible), the second assumption is almost certainly false.  Looking at current consumption patterns, we should also be skeptical that large swaths of people will want to voluntarily consume substantial calories directly from corn or soy.

What we typically do is take our relatively un-tasty corn and soy, and plug them into our machine (the cow or pig or chicken, or in Post’s case the Petri dish) to get a form of food we want to eat.  Yes, it seems inefficient on the surface of it, but the key is to realize that the original calories from corn and soy were not in a form most humans find desirable.  As far as the human pallet is concerned, not all calories are created equal; we care a great deal about the form in which the calories are delivered to us.

The grass-machine analogy also helps make clear that it is probably a mistake to compare the calorie and carbon footprint of corn directly with the cow.  Only a small fraction of the world’s caloric consumption comes from directly consuming the raw corn or soybean seeds.  It takes energy to convert these seeds into an edible form – either through food processing or through animal feeding.  So, what we want to compare is beef with other processed foods.  Otherwise we’re comparing apples and oranges (or in this case, corn and beef).

 The more relevant question in this case is whether lab grown meat uses more or less corn, and creates more or less environmental problems, than does animal grown meat.  

Innovations in Hen Housing

With the release of Unnaturally Delicious today, I thought I'd initiate a series of posts on the book over the next week or two.  

One of the main purposes of the posts is to share some pictures associated with the chapter contents. Originally the publishers planned to include the photos in the book, but decided to pull them at the last minute.  The upside is that I have clearance to reproduce a variety of interesting pictures associated with the book content, and I plan to do that here on the blog.  

The second chapter of the book talks about some innovative housing systems for egg laying hens.  What can be done to improve the welfare of laying hens which typically live in a crowded wire cage.  Why not just go cage free? 

Typical cage-free systems (often called barn or aviary systems) provide hens with much more space than do the cage systems. The barns allow the birds to exhibit natural behaviors like scratching and dust bathing, and they provide nesting areas for laying eggs. But they are far from the paradise many people envision. As Silva put it, “Cage-free isn’t what most people think it is.”

No hen housing system is superior to another in all respects, and there are tradeoffs and costs with each.  A really nice illustration of this is via the results of the research project that goes by the name Coalition for Sustainable Egg Supply.  I highly recommend their visuals that compare how different systems rate along dimensions related to food safety, animal welfare, environment, etc.   

In any event, one relatively new system in the U.S. is the so-called enriched colony cage system that attempt to provide some of the benefits of cage free without some of the downsides. I write:

Unlike the barren environment in the battery cages, the enriched colony cages have the mat area that allows the hens to exercise their natural urge to scratch. Also available are perches that allow the hens to get up off the wire floor. In addition to the nests, the perches are a popular sleeping area for the hens. Running underneath the colony cage is a conveyor belt that removes the manure and keeps it away from the birds. The enriched colony cages aren’t perfect, and some animal advocacy groups think they don’t go far enough. But they’re an innovative compromise.

Here's a picture of the housing system from the cage manufacturer Big Dutchman.

Of course, we can go even further still.  One group of Dutch researchers has been working to create a system—the Roundel (the eggs are sold in a circular, biodegradable carton under the name Rondeel).  As I write:

The Roundel is the Ritz Carlton of hen living. Hens have virtually all the freedoms and amenities they’d want from the wild but with ample feed and without any of the dangers from predators or hardships from adverse weather. The Roundel also comes with a luxury hotel price.

Here's a cool image of the Roundel system from the Wageningen UR Livestock Research group.  

The chapter also discusses some animal welfare trading schemes that might also offer innovative ways to improve farm animal living conditions at a price we're willing to pay. To find out more, you'll have to see the book.

Effective Altruism and the Meat Eater Problem

A few days ago I received an email from Scott Weathers who pointed me to a post he wrote on the Effective Altruism Form.  He brought my attention to a debate in the effective altruist community.  In particular, what are the full consequences of various human development projects on the well-being of people AND animals?  

For background, it might be useful to first define effective altruism, which according to Wikipedia, is: 

a philosophy and social movement that applies evidence and reason to determine the most effective ways to improve the world. Effective altruists aim to consider all causes and actions, and then act in the way that brings about the greatest positive impact

So, effective altruists aren't content to simply engage in activities that make them feel good - they want to look at the actual consequences.

Here's the issue.  Altruists aim to increase the well-being of people in developing countries.  But, development economist have long known that when poor people in developing countries begin to earn a bit more money, they tend to increase consumption of meat and other animal products.  Increasing demand for animal products leads to more animals.  Is it possible that the net effect of increasing the poors' wellbeing on total "happiness" (animals and human) is negative?  Scott put the "meat eater problem" as follows:  

Many GiveWell charity recommendations, particularly the Against Malaria Foundation, could be affected by this consideration – if saving human lives means increasing suffering for a large number of animals killed for meat consumption, should we support human health interventions at all?

Scott makes a number of good counter arguments to this concern in his post.  I too have a hard time getting overly worried about this "meat eater" problem.  Here are some of the first things that come to mind.

  • The impact isn't anywhere close to 1 to 1.  Even in a heavy meat eating country like the US, per-capita consumption of beef and pork are around 55 and 50 lbs/person/year.  One US steer is yields around 500-600 lbs of edible meat; one hog yields about 125 lbs of edible muscle.  So, if a person goes from zero beef and pork consumption to the (high) US average, they're only eating about 55/550=0.10 cows a year and 50/125=0.4 pigs a year. It would take (550/55)=10 years for this person to eat the equivalent of a whole steer and (125/20) = 2.5 years for the person to eat the equivalent of one whole hog.  Stated differently, are you ok helping 10 desperately poor people improve their lot in life (and eat a bit better too) even if it meant the suffering of 1 cow?  
  • Even the 10:1 ratio (or 2.5:1 ratio for hogs) dramatically overstates the problem. This is because consumption in the developing world isn't likely to increase anywhere close to that in the US.  Per-capita consumption of beef in sub-Saharan Africa is only about 6.82 lbs/person/year.   Thus, 1 US cow can feed 550/6.82=80.6 Africans for a year.  One review of the literature suggests that a 1% increase in the income of consumers in low income countries increases quantity demanded for meat and dairy by about 0.8% (i.e., the income elasticity of demand for meat is 0.8).  If per-capita GDP in sub-Saharan African were able to miraculously double (from $1,638/person to $3,276) for a 100% increase, we'd increase meat demand by 80%.  So, per-capita consumption would increase from 6.82lbs/person/year to 6.82*1.8=12.276 lbs/person/year.  Now 1 US cow would only feed 550/12.27=44.8 Africans for a year.  Each African goes from consuming 0.0124  to 0.0222 cows/year.  Pulling it all together, DOUBLING the per-capita income of the 973 million people who live in Sub-Saharan Africa, would require (by these back of the envelope calculations, which you can check for homework) about 9.65 million more cows.  So, what we want to compare is the extra happiness of 973 million Africans who have doubled their income and who are now eating 80% more meat to the welfare of an extra 9.65 million cows (the ratio of cows affected to humans affected is 0.01 to 1).  
  • One might say: well an African cow (or pig or sheep) doesn't provide as much meat as a US cow (or pig or sheep), so the ratios above are way off.  Fair enough.  But, what's the implication?  I say, it means we should invest in research (or donate to research organizations) that increase the productivity of animals in Africa.  Indeed, one counter-intuitive insight is that intensive animal agriculture, because it is so much more efficient, may be more "ethical" because it requires many fewer animals to meet consumer demand.
  • We don't want to compare numbers of people affected to numbers of animals affected, we want to compare units of "happiness" or "suffering".  Economists have long been uncomfortable with making such inter-personal utility comparisons, but presumably an effective altruist has to make such calculations in some form or fashion.  Even if we buy the arguments by philosophers like Peter Singer that all units of suffering should receive equal consideration regardless of the source (cow or human), we have to keep in mind that "suffering" relates not just to the ability to feel pain but the ability to contemplate pain, infer intention and meaning from the pain, anticipate future pain, etc., and thus my assessment is that it would take a lot more to create an equivalent "unit" of suffering from a cow than a human.
  • Why the presumption of suffering?  Are all animals better off dead than alive?  I highly doubt it.  In fact, if increased demand for meat brings more animals into the world that are better off alive than dead, then total happiness increases.  As we've argued elsewhere, there are good reasons to believe most US beef cows lead relatively high quality lives.  See here for my armchair philosophizing on the ethics of eating meat.
  • As I discuss in a chapter of my forthcoming book, Unnaturally Delicious, it is now possible to grow meat in a lab.  Lab grown meat doesn't suffer because it isn't connected to a brain. 
  • If you're concerned that giving to human charity adversely affects animals, then one possible solution is a market (like the one I've proposed) where you can buy "animal well being unit" offsets.  

Why aren't all chickens cage free?

Jennifer Chaussee has a piece at Wired on hen housing.  She attempts to answer some questions that I get frequently asked: why isn't the egg industry converting faster to cage free?  Isn't that the trend?  Why aren't we all cage free yet?

She writes

As it turns out, going cage-free requires much more planning, money, and logistical engineering than the seemingly simple notion of setting some hens free would suggest. Ironically, this massive supply chain overhaul stems from consumer demand to return to the egg-producing practices of our pre-industrial past, but without undoing all the positive benefits of scale, affordability, and safety that were achieved through industrialization. It actually took farmers a really long time to figure out how to put the bird in the cage—and it’s going to take a while to figure out how to get it back out.

Overall, it's a pretty good piece, and recounts many of the issues we've written about in other places.

Possible Impacts of Massachusetts Ballot Question on Animal Welfare

Joshua Miler of the Boston Globe has a piece on a ballot initiative in Massachusetts.  He writes:

The proposed Massachusetts ballot initiative, backed by a coalition called Citizens for Farm Animal Protection, has met the first and most arduous signature-gathering hurdle to make the ballot and is expected to clear the other obstacles that remain to make the November ballot.

It would ban the production and sale in the state of eggs from hens and meat from pigs and calves kept in tight enclosures starting in January 2022. For selling of shell eggs in Massachusetts, each hen would have to have access to at least 1.5 square feet of usable floor space.

What are the possible cost implications?  

On the one hand:

a consulting firm being paid by advocates to conduct an economic analysis of the ballot question’s impact, said the price increase would be modest. He predicted something on the order of 1 or 2 cents per egg, 12 to 24 cents a dozen

On the other hand:

[a top executive at Sauder’s Eggs, a big producer in Pennsylvania which ships many eggs to Massachusetts] estimates that the Massachusetts ballot question would raise the price by 70 or 80 cents per dozen, maybe more.

Here was my take, as cited in the story:

Some experts in the field say the best place to look to compare prices is California, where the sale of eggs from hens kept in small “battery cages” became illegal at the start of last year.

In a recent paper, Jayson L. Lusk, a professor of agricultural economics at Oklahoma State University, and another researcher used grocery store scanner data from California and other states to estimate how California’s animal welfare law changed the price of eggs. Per a dozen eggs, they found it raised prices by around 75 cents on average, a 22 percent increase over what the price of eggs would have been had the laws not gone into effect.

Lusk acknowledged that there are several confounding variables in extrapolating that data to Massachusetts, from last year’s avian influenza outbreak to Massachusetts importing more of its eggs than California (which could make the increase bigger) to the growth of the cage-free industry by 2022 (which could make the increase smaller).

But the overarching conclusion was clear.

“Egg prices are going to increase in Massachusetts” if the ballot measure passes, he said, “I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. The question really is ‘how much?’ ”

The cited research papers are discussed in this post.