It’s a tradition to plant potatoes on Good Friday--a habit most observed by an older generation, perhaps, and most applied to family gardens rather than large commercial operations. My grandparents did it. And as I recall, it was timed to the stages of the moon.
Traditions are cultural habits, and like all habits they’re hard to break: The bottom line is that a lot of people will be heading outside today to do what they do every Good Friday.
In the years ahead, they may be able to do this with the best potatoes modern science can offer: GM potatoes that improve nutrition for consumers as well as efficiency for farmers.
Whatever the future holds, the origins of this Good Friday practice have their fascinating roots in the past--and specifically in the Irish past. Today, the people of Ireland are known for their super-sized love of potatoes: Every Irish man, woman, and child eats more than 250 pounds of them each year.
In the 19th century, however, many Irish Protestants refused to eat potatoes on the grounds that they weren’t mentioned in the Bible. There’s a good reason for this: Potato cultivation first occurred in the pre-Columbian Andes Mountains, and it wasn’t until about 1570 that a potato made its first transatlantic crossing. Even then, the plant took a couple of centuries to catch on in Europe.
The Irish were among the earliest adapters, but there remained this little problem with the Bible. So Irish Catholics came up with an ingenious solution: They planted their potatoes on Good Friday and claimed that the plants had been “baptized.” For some reason, this seemed to silence the objections. Although Irish Catholics and Protestants remain divided in fundamental ways, they all seem to enjoy their potatoes.
Lately, Ireland has become ground zero in the fight over biotech potatoes. The issue doesn’t divide people by religion, but by their faith in science: It pits those who understand the importance of scientific research and the ability of modern technology to improve our lives against those who harbor irrational fears based upon anti-biotech superstition.
Several years ago, scientists discovered a species of wild potato in Mexico. It’s not suitable for commercial cultivation, but it contains a genetic trait that commercial cultivators would love to have in their crops: A resistance to blight, the disease that can wreak havoc on potato farmers. As it happens, this disease was the cause of the Irish Potato Famine--a 19th-century incident that cut the Irish population roughly in half, through starvation and emigration.
Scientists have figured out how to transfer this blight resistance from the wild potato and place it in a commercial variety. The hope is that they may now spend several years testing the new plant in the fields of Ireland.
It’s crucial that they be allowed to do so, without suffering from the sabotage that has plagued similar biotech experiments. Biotechnology improves both the quantity and quality of our food. Although Ireland probably never will experience another bout with starvation, the same can’t be said for the developing world--and there are genetically enhanced potatoes in the biotech pipeline that will help poor farmers grow healthier crops. Some may even enrich the potato’s nutritional content--the so-called “protato” contains greater amounts of protein, and allowing it to realize its potential may help result in combating the scourge of childhood malnutrition among the impoverished.
And I’m sure you’ve heard of hot potatoes--but what about glowing ones? Several years ago, Scottish scientists developed a potato that uses jellyfish genes to glow when it needs watering. The glow requires a special device to detect. It’s important to note, if these plants were ever commercialized, they almost certainly would never enter the human food chain. Farmers would plant just a few in each field as “sentinels”.
So I’m happy to report that we’re not on the verge of glow-in-the-dark French fries--though come to think of it, a few of them in a bowl next to the Jack-o-lantern on Halloween might be a tradition that would be fun starting.
Dean Kleckner is an Iowa farmer and past president of the American Farm Bureau. He currently chairs Truth About Trade and Technology.
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It’s a tradition to plant potatoes on Good Friday--a habit most observed by an older generation, perhaps, and most applied to family gardens rather than large commercial operations. My grandparents did it. And as I recall, it was timed to the stages of the moon.
