In a lot of ways, the hopes and dreams for agriculture have been placed on certifications and sustainability. Whether it be sustainable, organic, fair trade, regenerative, carbon neutral, or whatever comes next, many throughout the agricultural and food web have invested in the promise of these categorizations and certifications of how food is grown. While the intentions may have been somewhat in the right direction, a focus on sustainability and certifications are inherently flawed and inadequate mechanisms for building the agriculture of the future.

Sustainable agriculture and variations on it have been a hot topic for years, in many cases without substantially transforming production systems or incentives. But while interest (as proxied by internet searches) in sustainable agriculture and organic farms have decreased over the last two decades, interest in local farms and regenerative farms have increased (chart below).

(Google Trends source, and more information on these searches worldwide here.)

Certifications in agriculture are abundant in the United States and globally. This blog by the Food Alliance highlights 10 food certifications. In some cases, consumers may reach information overload, or alternatively, stop short of gathering the information most relevant to their own decision. I’ve written in more detail previously about some of how we end up in an ongoing cycle of fads in local, organic, regenerative, and other certifications, and what we could do instead. But before diving deeply into that, we can think about some of the underlying functionality of sustainability and certifications. 

Why do sustainability and certifications continue to flourish? Because what the alternative demands has been deemed (inferring by the action of consumers) still too costly or inaccessible, not only financially, but in terms of the degree of change in our lives it would demand. These labels all let us as consumers FEEL like we’re doing something good, even for our own body, our family, or our environment. We believe buying something with a certification  exempts us from the complexity of getting to know a food grower, the local seasons, and how food is grown. Because to actually know a farmer and to eat the food they produce, for many it requires drastic changes in lifestyle, time allocation, and spending habits.

Why not sustainability? 

The Sustainable Agriculture Research & Education Program at UC Davis defines sustainable agriculture as “meet[ing] society’s food and textile needs in the present without compromising the ability of future generations to meet their own needs.” In effect, sustainable agriculture is targeted at sustaining society’s current ways of consumption into the future. But, is this what we want to sustain? And, fundamentally, is society the only portion of the agricultural web that has needs? To me, it’s clear that neither is the case. 

In a way, sustainability as a premise is like Maximum Production Light. Yes, it is different and has less calories. But, light beer still gets you drunk if you drink enough of it. And, it being “light” might lull you to sleep in a way, into thinking it won’t have the fundamental impact. We’re all adults here, so choose to imbibe whatever flavor you like, and, at the same time, there’s an invitation to stay aware of the functionality of what’s happening.  

Why not certifications? 

Similarly to sustainability, we can get at the root of what certifications are about at the most fundamental level. Certifications are a way of substituting a monetary premium for a relational connection. A certification de-contextualizes and oversimplifies dynamic biologic and relational cycles of planting, growth, harvest, and renewal.

Further, certifications often become like a black box that increases the distance between understanding the way food is grown and those who consume it. That often transfers some of the benefit of improving production to the certifier, instead of benefiting the farmer or being invested in the land. In some cases, that distance created by certification leads to fundamental misconceptions about what the certification even means; for example, a 2024 survey suggests that nearly half (47%) of Americans believe organic agriculture does not use pesticides, and another (27%) being unsure whether that is true. 

Consumers want to feel good about what they eat. But certifications will not achieve that in a meaningful and deep way. Because certifications are not a long term substitute for being in relationship with those who grow food and how they grow it.

From the producer perspective, some may argue that the economic incentives created by certifications help reward and incentivize production in more environmentally supportive ways. Perhaps that is true in the short term in some cases. But as we’ve seen in organic carrots, these financial incentives are subject to some of the same market premises that erode premiums over time as conventional agricultural markets. 

Another concern with certifications is shifting the burden of marketing trends onto farmers. A farmer who invests the years of time and effort into meeting certification requirements, for example, for organic certification, may or may not be implementing the practices that are best suited for that particular land. In some cases, those practices could make the farm and what grows there more fragile in many ways. They could also subject the farm economically to greater variability in income, particularly if the winds of the market move on and the next certification trend becomes popular. This is not preferred for any farm, and it’s particularly problematic in countries where most farms are subsistence farms or are already without much of a safety net. 

Coming at it from another angle, one of the tricky parts of certifications is seeing them as the ends, rather than transitional and imperfect means. If we think, for example, that carbon-based payments to farmers via certification schemes will fundamentally neutralize our global use of oil and other non-renewable energy, we’ve gotten a little turned around on cause and effect. Coming back into harmony with the planet we are a part of requires more than that. It might have its own unique flavors and expressions around the world, but it requires transformation at the root of how we relate to the Earth. 

What instead? 

As I’ve just pointed to, there is another way available. 

Still, most of us are choosing to be consumers, and most of us are choosing the cheap calories. And not cheap as in not nutritionally dense or economically affordable even, but cheap as in not relationally dense. 

But, at some point, cheap calories leave us malnourished. And, the hunger for connectedness and reciprocal relationships to be an expressed part of how we eat (and by extension, who we are) will continue until we actually satisfy what is at the root of the hunger. 

I want to emphasize that none of this is to say that nothing good has come from sustainability or certifications. There are situations where sustainable agriculture and various certifications have allowed a transition to ways of farming that genuinely have their benefits. Is some improvement better than no action at all? In many cases it is.  

And at the same time, instead of a focus on sustainability or certifications, what is it that could be more fruitful? What could be more fruitful is actually changing our relationship with the fruits of the land, and the land itself. The land has much to offer, and we have much to offer in our stewardship of land. 

A focus on shifts in the ways we relate to land and growing food will insist on significant changes. It doesn’t mean those changes all have to come at once. But it does mean that we get to remember what we’re actually desiring at the root.