WHAT ARE WE REALLY EATING WHEN OUR FOOD IS GROWN WITHOUT SOIL?

For the better part of seven years, I've watched hydroponic growing systems being promoted as some kind of revolutionary solution to food insecurity.

And I've watched organizations being pitched systems that can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars, all under the promise of helping people "grow their own food."

Including right here in Niagara.

And guess who some of these systems are being promoted to?

Food banks.

Think about that.

Organizations whose entire purpose is to help feed people who cannot afford food are being encouraged to invest in expensive technology to produce it.

And I'm supposed to believe this is the future of food security?

I have some questions.

First, what exactly are we growing our food in?

Hydroponics is the practice of growing plants without soil. Instead, their roots receive water containing dissolved "nutrients". Aka synthetic fertilizer.

In some systems, the plants grow under artificial lights, in controlled environments where temperature, humidity, water and nutrient delivery are all managed through equipment.

Instead of sunlight, we can use electric lights.

Instead of living soil, we can use manufactured nutrient solutions.

Instead of rainfall and natural drainage, we can use pumps, reservoirs, filtration systems and carefully managed water chemistry.

Now, plants absolutely can grow this way. Nobody is disputing that.

But just because we can make something grow doesn't mean we've created a better food system.

And I think we've become far too impressed by technology without asking what we're actually replacing.

What happened to the soil?

Healthy soil isn't just dirt.

It's an entire living ecosystem of bacteria, fungi, microorganisms, minerals, organic matter and countless interactions that support plant growth.

Plants growing in soil develop relationships with this ecosystem, including beneficial fungi that help them access nutrients.

Hydroponics bypasses much of that biological relationship by delivering nutrients directly to the roots.

And that's where I start asking questions.

We know plants require certain essential nutrients to grow. Hydroponic growers can provide those nutrients in measured concentrations.

But soil is much more complicated than a list of ingredients.

What about the thousands of biological interactions occurring beneath our feet? What about the compounds plants produce in response to their environment? What about the influence of soil biology on the nutritional qualities of our food?

Are we measuring everything that matters, or just the things we've learned how to measure?

A plant can look healthy, grow quickly and reach harvest without ever touching living soil. But does that mean it contains the same nutritional complexity as a plant grown in a thriving soil ecosystem?

We can manufacture a nutrient solution that keeps a plant growing, but can we honestly claim we've replicated everything that living soil provides?

We've learned how to grow plants without soil. That doesn't mean we've learned how to replace everything soil contributes to our food.

I honestly don't believe we should confuse the ability to grow a healthy-looking plant with proof that we've created the best possible growing environment.

Fake sunlight, manufactured nutrients and the cost of control

Let's talk about what it takes to operate an indoor hydroponic system.

Lighting. Electricity. Pumps. Climate controls. Nutrient solutions. Water testing. Equipment maintenance. Replacement parts. Technical knowledge.

Every one of those things comes at a cost.

And every one of those things introduces another dependency.

If the electricity goes out, how long can the system operate?

If a pump fails, who repairs it?

If the nutrient solution becomes unbalanced, who recognizes the problem?

If the organization can no longer afford the operating costs, what happens to the food production?

I'm not suggesting that LED lights are inherently harmful or that manufactured mineral nutrients are automatically dangerous. Plants can use those nutrients, and artificial lighting can support healthy growth.

But we should be questioning the wisdom of building food security around systems that require continuous purchases, technical support and electricity just to keep producing food.

Especially when we're talking about organizations that already struggle to secure the resources needed to feed people.

And what's in the water?

This is another conversation I rarely hear happening.

Hydroponic nutrient solutions can contain nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, calcium, magnesium, iron and other minerals necessary for plant growth.

Growers must also manage pH, electrical conductivity and water quality. Depending on the system, they may use pH-adjusting chemicals, cleaning products, disinfectants and other treatment methods.

Some systems recirculate their nutrient solutions, which can dramatically reduce water consumption compared with conventional irrigation.

That's a genuine advantage.

But what happens when the water needs to be replaced?

Where does that nutrient-rich solution go?

If it's discharged improperly, the nitrogen and phosphorus can contribute to nutrient pollution in waterways. Cleaning chemicals and other residues may also require appropriate handling.

Responsible operators can manage these risks through recirculation, treatment, reuse and proper disposal.

But those measures require knowledge, equipment and oversight.

If we're going to call something environmentally sustainable, shouldn't we be looking at the entire operation, including where the water and waste go?

A system doesn't become environmentally responsible simply because it uses less water.

We have to consider the electricity, the equipment, the materials, the nutrients and the waste generated throughout its life.

Now let's talk about the food banks

This is where my concern becomes much bigger than hydroponics itself.

For years, I've watched money and resources directed toward programs intended to address food insecurity.

And yet food insecurity continues to grow.

Now we're promoting expensive indoor growing systems to organizations whose clients cannot afford groceries.

Let's imagine an organization has access to several hundred thousand dollars to establish a hydroponic growing operation.

What exactly are we trying to accomplish?

Are we trying to produce the greatest amount of nutritious food for the lowest sustainable cost?

Are we trying to teach people how to become more independent?

Are we trying to support farmers who already know how to grow food?

Or are we trying to demonstrate an impressive piece of technology?

Because those are very different objectives.

A hydroponic system might produce lettuce and herbs throughout the year.

But how many families are we feeding with lettuce?

Where are the potatoes? The carrots? The squash? The beans? The eggs? The meat? The ingredients that actually allow families to prepare complete, nourishing meals?

A food bank needs a dependable supply of diverse, affordable food.

And if we're going to invest hundreds of thousands of dollars in food production, I think we have an obligation to ask whether that investment could accomplish more by supporting existing farms, shared storage, food preservation, transportation and distribution.

Why are we trying to turn food banks into high-tech farms when we already have farmers who need customers?

That's the question I keep coming back to.

What if we invested in the food system instead?

Imagine using those same resources to help several small farms expand production.

Or establishing cold storage that allows us to preserve more of our harvest.

Or creating shared equipment, affordable distribution routes and reliable purchasing agreements that allow farmers to plan their production around actual demand.

Imagine teaching families how to grow food in soil, extend their growing seasons, preserve their harvests and develop skills they can use without purchasing an expensive proprietary system.

And imagine food banks participating as reliable purchasers and distribution partners rather than being expected to become specialized agricultural operators themselves.

Now we're not just growing lettuce.

We're creating customers for farmers, supporting employment, strengthening production and building infrastructure that can serve an entire community.

And those investments can continue circulating through the economy.

This is exactly why I've spent years developing Small Scale Farms and Red Maple Farm School.

Because I don't believe food security is simply about producing more food.

It's about creating the relationships, knowledge and infrastructure that allow people to produce, access and afford food without becoming dependent on increasingly complicated systems.

Who actually benefits?

I think this is the question we should be asking whenever a new solution is presented to an organization serving vulnerable people.

Who sells the equipment?

Who installs it?

Who supplies the nutrients, replacement parts and ongoing technical services?

Who receives the money upfront?

Who carries the operating costs afterward?

And most importantly, how much food actually reaches the people who need it?

I'm not suggesting that every hydroponic company is taking advantage of food banks or that every project is unsuccessful.

But I am saying that we need to stop treating expensive technology as an achievement in itself.

If a project is being presented as a solution to food insecurity, then show us the numbers.

Show us the total cost of installation and operation.

Show us the amount of food produced, the nutritional value of that food, the cost per edible pound and the number of meaningful meals it provides.

Show us the environmental costs and what happens when equipment needs replacing.

And then compare those results with what the same investment could accomplish through existing farmers and community food infrastructure.

Because the measure of success should never be how impressive the growing system looks. It should be how effectively it feeds people.

We need to rethink what resilience actually means

To me, resilience means developing the ability to meet more of our own needs using the resources, knowledge and relationships available to us.

It means understanding the seasons.

Knowing how to grow food.

Building healthy soil.

Learning how to preserve what we harvest.

Supporting farmers who are already producing.

And creating communities that can continue functioning when the systems we depend on become disrupted.

Hydroponics has applications. It can be useful in places with limited land, difficult growing conditions or specialized production needs.

But I don't believe that makes it the answer to food insecurity in an agricultural region like Niagara.

Not when we have farmland, farmers, agricultural knowledge and an opportunity to strengthen the infrastructure connecting all of them.

We don't need to teach food banks how to operate expensive artificial growing environments before we've figured out how to support the farmers growing food all around us.

And perhaps the question we should be asking isn't whether we can grow food without soil.

It's why we're so willing to invest enormous amounts of money in replacing something nature already provides, while struggling to invest in the people who know how to work with it.

Because if the goal is to feed people, then let's build a food system that feeds people, not another expensive system that needs to be fed.