Growing food in the desert: is this the solution to the world's food crisis?
Philipp
Saumweber is creating a miracle in the barren Australian outback,
growing tonnes of fresh food. So why has he fallen out with the
pioneering environmentalist who invented the revolutionary system?
Desert blooms: Philipp
Saumweber, the founder and CEO of Sundrop, with a tray of his “perfect”
produce. Photograph: Jonathan Margolis for the Observer
The scrubby desert outside Port Augusta, three hours from
Adelaide, is not the kind of countryside you see in Australian tourist
brochures. The backdrop to an area of coal-fired power stations, lead
smelting and mining, the coastal landscape is spiked with saltbush that
can live on a trickle of brackish seawater seeping up through the arid
soil. Poisonous king brown snakes, redback spiders, the odd kangaroo and
emu are seen occasionally, flies constantly. When the local landowners
who graze a few sheep here get a chance to sell some of this crummy real
estate they jump at it, even for bottom dollar, because the only real
natural resource in these parts is sunshine.
Which makes it all
the more remarkable that a group of young brains from Europe, Asia and
north America, led by a 33-year-old German former Goldman Sachs banker
but inspired by a London theatre lighting engineer of 62, have bought a
sizeable lump of this unpromising outback territory and built on it an
experimental greenhouse which holds the seemingly realistic promise of
solving the world's
food problems.
Indeed, the work that
Sundrop Farms, as they call themselves, are doing in South
Australia,
and just starting up in Qatar, is beyond the experimental stage. They
appear to have pulled off the ultimate something-from-nothing
agricultural feat – using the sun to desalinate seawater for irrigation
and to heat and cool greenhouses as required, and thence cheaply grow
high-quality, pesticide-free vegetables year-round in commercial
quantities.
So far, the company has grown tomatoes, peppers and
cucumbers by the tonne, but the same, proven technology is now almost
ready to be extended to magic out, as if from thin air, unlimited
quantities of many more crops – and even protein foods such as fish and
chicken – but still using no fresh
water
and close to zero fossil fuels. Salty seawater, it hardly needs
explaining, is free in every way and abundant – rather too abundant
these days, as our ice caps melt away.
So well has Sundrop's
18-month project worked that investors and supermarket chains have
lately been scurrying down to Port Augusta, making it hard to get a room
in its few motels, or a table at the curry restaurant in the local pub.
Academic agriculturalists, mainstream politicians and green activists
are falling over each other to champion Sundrop. And the company's
scientists, entrepreneurs and investors are about to start building an
£8m, 20-acre greenhouse – 40 times bigger than the current one – which
will produce 2.8m kg of tomatoes and 1.2m kg of peppers a year for
supermarkets now clamouring for an exclusive contract.
It's an
inspiring project, more important, it could be argued, than anything
else going on in the world. Agriculture uses 60-80% of the planet's
scarce fresh water, so food production that uses none at all is nothing
short of miraculous.
Blue-sky thinking: the 75m motorised parabolic mirror follows the
sun all day, using its heat to generate energy for the Sundrop
greenhouses. Photograph: Hat Margolis
Growing food in a desert, especially in a period of sustained
drought, is a pretty counterintuitive idea and Sundrop's horticultural
breakthrough also ignores the principle that the best ideas are the
simplest. Sundrop's computerised growing system is easy to describe, but
was complex to devise and trickier still to make economically viable.
A
75m line of motorised parabolic mirrors that follow the sun all day
focuses its heat on a pipe containing a sealed-in supply of oil. The hot
oil in turn heats nearby tanks of seawater pumped up from a few metres
below ground – the shore is only 100m away. The oil brings the seawater
up to 160C and steam from this drives turbines providing electricity.
Some of the hot water from the process heats the greenhouse through the
cold desert nights, while the rest is fed into a desalination plant that
produces the 10,000 litres of fresh water a day needed to keep the
plants happy. The water the grower gets is pure and ready for the
perfect mix of nutrients to be added. The air in the greenhouse is kept
humid and cool by trickling water over a wall of honeycombed cardboard
evaporative pads through which air is driven by wind and fans. The
system is hi-tech all the way; the greenhouse is in a remote spot, but
the grower, a hyper-enthusiastic 27-year-old Canadian, Dave Pratt, can
rather delightfully control all the growing conditions for his tonnes of
crops from an iPhone app if he's out on the town – or even home in
Ontario.
It's the kind of thing an enlightened futurologist might
have imagined for the 21st century, and to enter Sundrop's greenhouse
from the desert outside, passing the array of sun-tracking solar
parabolic mirrors that looks like something from a film set, is to feel
you've arrived at a template for tomorrow-world. The warm, humid air
laden with the scent of ripening tomatoes is in such contrast to the
harsh landscape outside, where it tops a parched 40C for much of the
year, that it feels as if the more brutal sides of both nature and
economics are being benignly cheated. You can supply billions with
healthy, cheap food, help save the planet and make a fortune? There has
to be a catch.
Green shoots: Charlie Paton in his East London home. It was his
discovery that led to the use of seawater in agriculture. Photograph:
Hat Margolis
There seems, however, to be only one significant person in the world
who feels there is indeed a catch, and, a little bizarrely, that is the
inventor of the technology, one
Charlie Paton,
the British lighting man mentioned earlier, who is currently to be
found in his own experimental greenhouse, atop a three- storey former
bakery at the London Fields end of Hackney, east London, feeling
proud-ish, but not a little sour, about the way things have worked out
10,000 miles away in the desert between the Flinders mountains and the
Spencer Gulf.
If you are of an ecological bent, Paton's name may
ring a bell. He is the multi-honoured founder of a veritable icon of the
green world, a 21-year established family company called
Seawater Greenhouse,
originators of the idea of growing crops using only sunlight and
seawater. Earlier this month, Paton was given the prestigious title
Royal Designer for Industry by the Royal Society of Arts, and a few
months earlier, Seawater Greenhouse won first prize in the best product
category of the UK's biggest climate-change awards scheme, Climate Week.
If Sundrop Farms takes off worldwide, the charming and idealistic
Charlie Paton could well be in line for a knighthood, even a Nobel
Prize; the potential of his brainchild – the ability to grow infinite
quantities of cheap, wholesome food in
deserts – is that great.
There's
just one problem in all this. Although he and his family built the
South Australia greenhouse with their own hands, Sundrop has abandoned
pretty much every scrap of the ultra-simple Paton technology regarding
it as "too Heath Robinson" and commercially hopeless. Some of the
Patons' home-made solar panels in wooden frames are still connected up
and powering fans, but are falling apart. Nearly all the rest of their
installation has been replaced with hi-tech kit which its spiritual
father views with contempt. He dismisses Sundrop's gleaming new £160,000
tracking mirrors from Germany and the thrumming Swiss desalination
plant and heat-exchanging tanks as "bells and whistles" put in to
impress investors. Sundrop and Seawater have parted company and Paton
accuses them of abandoning sustainability in the interests of commercial
greed. He is particularly distressed by the installation of a backup
gas boiler to keep the crops safe if it's cloudy for a few days.
But
we will return to Charlie Paton later; sadly, perhaps, developments in
the South Australian desert are now overshadowing the doubts and
travails of their original inspiration. And they are quite some
developments. "These guys have been bold and adventurous in having the
audacity to think that they could do it," says the head of Australia's
government-funded desalination research institute, Neil Palmer. "They
are making food without risk, eliminating the problems caused not just
by floods, frost, hail but by lack of water, too, which now becomes a
non-issue. Plus, it stacks up economically and it's infinitely scalable –
there's no shortage of sunshine or seawater here. It's all very
impressive."
On the vine … the blemish-free crop is effectively organic, but it
can't be marketed as such in Australia as it is not grown on soil.
Photograph: Hat Margolis
"The sky really is now the limit," confirms Dutch water engineer
Reinier Wolterbeek, Sundrop's project manager. "For one thing, we are
all young and very ambitious. That's how we select new team members. And
having shown to tough-minded horticulturalists, economists and
supermarket buyers that what we can do works and makes commercial sense,
there's now the possibility of growing protein, too, in these closed,
controlled greenhouse environments. And that means feeding the world, no
less."
An unexpected bonus of the Sundrop system is that the
vegetables produced, while cropping year-round and satisfying the
supermarkets' demand for blemish-free aesthetic perfection, can also be
effectively organic. It can't be called organic (in Australia at least)
because it's grown "hydroponically" – not in soil – but it is wholly
pesticide-free, a selling point the Australian supermarkets are seizing
on, and apparently fed only benign nutrients. Sundrop is already being
sold in local greengrocers in Port Augusta as an ethically and
environmentally friendly high-end brand.
Because there's no
shortage of desert in which to site it, a Sundrop greenhouse can be
built in isolation from others and be less prone to roving pests. Those
that sneak in can be eliminated naturally. In this closeted micro-world,
Dave Pratt with his trusty iPhone app is free to play God. Not only
does Dave have a flight of in-house bees to do their stuff in the
greenhouse (who also live a charmed life as they enjoy a perfect, Dave-
controlled climate with no predators) but he also has at his command a
platoon of "beneficial insects" called Orius, or pirate bugs. These kill
crop-destroying pests called thrips, and do so – weirdly in nature –
not for food but for, well, fun. So unless you feel for thrips, or
believe food should only be grown in God's own soil and subject to God's
own pestilences, Sundrop produce seems to be pure and ethical enough to
satisfy all but the most eco-fussy.
Sundrop's founder and CEO, on
the other hand, is not at first glance an ecowarrior poster child.
True, there are plenty of posh boys dabbling in ethical and organic
farming, but on paper, Philipp Saumweber could be a comedy all-purpose
hate figure. He is a wealthy, Gordonstoun-educated German with a Harvard
MBA, immaculate manners, an American accent, Teutonic efficiency and a
career that's taken him from hedge-fund management to Goldman Sachs to
joining his family's Munich-based agricultural investment business. But,
in the typical way stereotypes can let you down, apart from being a
thoroughly nice, softly spoken and clearly visionary man, Saumweber has
also made a brilliant but ailing idea work, turning a charmingly
British, Amstrad-like technology into the horticultural equivalent of
Apple.
Soon after becoming immersed in agriculture as a business,
he says, he realised that it essentially involved "turning diesel into
food and adding water". Whether you were a tree-hugger or a number
cruncher, Saumweber reasoned, this was not good. "So I began to get
interested in the idea of saline agriculture. Fresh water is so scarce,
yet we're almost drowning in seawater. I spent a lot of time in
libraries researching it, Charlie Paton's name kept coming up, and
that's what started things. He'd been working on the technology since
1991, was smart and although his approach was obviously home-grown and
none of his pilot projects had really worked – in fact they'd all been
scrapped – he had something too promising to ignore."
Despite
having given Paton a large, undisclosed ex- gratia settlement when
Sundrop and Seawater divorced in February – a sum Paton still says he
was very happy with – Saumweber continues to be gracious about his
former business partner, and says he wishes he was still on board, as he
is a better propagandist and salesman for this ultimate sustainable
technology than anyone else he's met.
"What we liked about
Charlie's idea, as did the engineers we got in to assess Seawater
Greenhouse, is that it addressed the water issue doubly by proposing a
greenhouse which made water in an elegant way and linked this to a
system to use seawater to cool the greenhouse," Saumweber recounts.
"What
we didn't realise at the start, and I don't think Charlie ever adjusted
to fully, was that even in arid regions, you get cold days and a
greenhouse will need heating – hence the gas boiler, which cuts in to
produce heat and electricity when it gets cold or cloudy, but which
upset Charlie so much because it meant we weren't 100% zero-energy any
longer. What Charlie overlooked is that you can grow anything without
heat and cooling, but it will be blemished and misshapen and will be
rejected by the supermarkets. If you don't match their standards, you're
not paid. It would be ideal if that weren't the case, but we can't take
on the challenge of changing human behaviour.
"So in the end, we
had very different views on where the business should go. He'd found the
perfect platform to keep tinkering and experimenting, while we just
wanted to get into production. He's a very nice man and I share a lot of
his eco views, but it wasn't possible to stay together."
When
you visit the agreeable Paton family in Hackney it becomes clear the
gas-boiler incident out in the desert was far from the whole reason for
the fallout with Sundrop. There was also a serious clash of styles.
Saumweber is a banker by training and lives in prosperous west London,
while the Patons are artistic and live part of the time in a forest
clearing in Sussex in a wooden house without electricity. Charlie, an
amateur and a tinkerer at heart, a highly knowledgeable polymath rather
than a scientist, is also a proud man, whose intense blue eyes burn when
he discusses how his invention has, in his view, been debased by the
ambitious young men and women who moved it on to the next level.
The
difference was essentially political, an idealist/ pragmatist schism
not unlike an old Labour/New Labour split. The Patons – Charlie, his
wife, jeweller and art school teacher Marlene McKibbin, son Adam, 25, a
design engineer and daughter Alice, 26, a fine art graduate – are a
tight, highly principled bunch who gather almost every day for a family
lunch, like a wholemeal and Palestinian organic olive oil version of
the Ewings of Southfork Ranch.
The
Seawater Greenhouse method,
which they are still promoting actively, involves no desalination
plant, no gleaming solar mirrors and little by way of anything
electronic. Everything in the Seawater Greenhouse vision is low-tech,
cheap to start up and reliant on the subtle, gentle interaction of
evaporation and condensation of seawater with wind, both natural and
artificial, blown by fans powered by solar panels. If things go wrong
and production is disrupted by a glitch in this model, you just persuade
people to eat perfectly good but odd-looking produce – or harvest less
and stand firm by your sustainable principles.
Although the
concept is attractive and the philosophy will chime with many a green
consumer, the Seawater Greenhouse installation is less elegant. Dave
Pratt, fresh to the team from growing tomatoes in Canada, almost went
straight back when he saw the kit Adam and Alice Paton had painstakingly
put together. "It was like a construction by the Beverly Hillbillies,"
Pratt says. "They had these 15,000 hand-made plastic pipes meant to work
as heat exchangers, but they just dripped seawater on the plants, which
was disastrous."
Paton's perspective on things is, naturally, a
little different. "I did have a falling-out with Philipp," he says. "It
was a joint venture, but we disagreed on a number of things. Being a
cautious investor, he called in consultants and horticulturalists, and
one said if you don't put in a gas boiler you're going to lose money and
get poor produce. I was persuaded about the need for some heating, but
it could have been supplied by solar panels. It wasn't such a big deal,
perhaps, but it was a syndrome that ran through everything we did.
Philipp is the king of the spreadsheet, and trying to make the numbers
go black meant he just rushed everything. I'm all for the thing being
profitable, but there are levels of greed I found a bit, well, not quite
right. I wish him well, though, and if it's fabulously successful, then
fine."
What next for the Patons, then? "Well, the settlement we
got was enough to carry on fiddling about for some time. We're excited
about getting a new project going in Cape Verde [the island republic in
the mid-Atlantic], where they produce no food at all and they seem
interested. And we have talked about a project in Somaliland [the
unofficial breakaway part of Somalia], but that would be difficult as
there's not even a hotel to stay in."
Charlie Paton, although the
acknowledged founder of the idea of growing unlimited food in impossible
conditions, seems almost destined to join a British tradition of
hobbyist geniuses who change the world working from garden sheds and
workshops, but, because they aren't commercial, and perhaps rather
eschew professionalism, miss out on the final mile and the big payday.
"We
will absolutely keep on at this in our own way," he says, "but I don't
really feel that proprietary about it. The heart of the technology is
actually a bit of soggy cardboard. You can't patent or protect the idea
of evaporative cooling. The idea of using seawater to do that absolutely
was a major breakthrough, but again, you can't patent it. The main
thing is that it's us that's still picking up the plaudits, and I think
that makes Philipp really angry."
sundropfarms.com; seawatergreenhouse.com
Em: http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2012/nov/24/growing-food-in-the-desert-crisis?INTCMP=SRCH
This post was written by:
Jim Lawrence - who has written 14 posts on BirdLife Community.Jim Lawrence is Development Manager of the BirdLife Preventing Extinctions Programme.