From 1862 until 1923, US senators and members of Congress provided vast numbers of seeds to constituents. At its peak, the congressional seed distribution program delivered over 60m seed packets directly to farmers and market gardeners every year, helping introduce new varieties of everything from wheat and corn to oats, soybeans, flowers and vegetables. A century later, far fewer Americans till the soil for a living, but seeds remain central to our lives.
To understand the importance of seeds, try to imagine a morning without them. It would begin naked on a bare mattress, with no cozy sheets or pajamas, and there would be no fluffy towel to wrap up in after your shower. All of those things come from the seeds of the cotton plant. Stumbling wet into the kitchen, you would find no coffee, and no toast or bagel to go with it. There would be no eggs, no bacon, no cereal, no milk. All of those staples come from seeds or from livestock raised on seed crops. And if you thought you might console yourself with a chocolate bar, you can forget it. Cocoa powder, and the cocoa butter that makes it melt in your mouth, are both derived from seeds.
Maintaining the seed diversity and abundance we rely on requires constant development of new varieties to combat disease, increase production and adapt to changing conditions. Seed advances are particularly urgent now, as farmers confront the fickle weather of a warming planet while working to meet a projected 50-60% rise in global food demand by 2050. Although elected officials no longer send out seeds through the mail, federal support for these efforts remains vital.
In the era of Doge, that support has been flipped on its head.
The US Department of Agriculture employs many plant breeders directly and funds many more through grants and partnerships, but the crown jewel of its seed program resides in a bunker-like building in Fort Collins, Colorado. The national seed bank houses more than 2bn carefully preserved specimens in a facility designed to withstand floods, fires, earthquakes, power outages and tornadoes. With over 620,000 varieties from nearly 17,000 different species, it is one of the world’s largest seed collections and a major supplier to the global seed vault in Svalbard, Norway.
It is also at risk.
While words like “vault” and “bank” imply simply turning the key and walking away, managing a seed collection demands constant activity. Even in cold storage, the specimens steadily degrade and must be tested regularly to make sure they’re still viable. When germination rates drop for any particular sample, those seeds must be planted and grown to maturity – in the right conditions – to produce a fresh supply. That activity takes place at over 20 research stations in locations (and climates) as diverse as North Dakota, Texas, California, Hawaii and Puerto Rico.
Known officially as the US National Plant Germplasm System, the seed bank and its network of regional facilities recently lost 10% of their workforce in the Doge firings, including farm managers, research scientists, lab technicians, IT specialists, orchardists and more. Some have since been rehired, at least temporarily, but the program remains in turmoil. Projects interrupted or suspended range from germination trials to seed regeneration, research lending and many longterm breeding programs, weakening the entire enterprise.
Plants don’t wait on politics. Any seed varieties lost now will simply be unavailable to improve crops and address challenges in the future. The importance of a robust and diverse seed bank cannot be overstated. To combat the invasive Russian wheat aphid, for example, plant breeders screened over 54,000 wheat and barley samples to find a handful of precious strains with natural resistance.
It’s time for Congress to return to the seed business. Without its intervention, backed by the courts, additional firings appear imminent. Undermining the nation’s seed security undermines its food security and embodies the definition of reckless: “utterly unconcerned about consequences”.
For those in the seed world, that attitude is hard to fathom. After all, planting a seed is always about what comes next, a conscious act of forethought and optimism. In other words, an act of hope.
