Organic farming stands in sharp contrast to most modern farming techniques today. Modern farmers seek to increase food production by interfering with nature; organic farmers seek to raise crops as nature intended, even if that means limiting production. Modern farmers move away from the natural order by artificially modifying plants through genetic alterations or the indiscriminate use of chemicals. Organic farmers, on the other hand, seek a return to the natural order by cultivating biodiversity and shunning chemical treatments. These two spinach plants (facing page) boast robust, well developed roots and vibrant stalks and leaves--all typical of organically grown crops.

"I'm sorry to startle you. It's just me," said Huang, a neighbor who owned and operated a vegetable farm nearby. "My son is coming to visit tomorrow. I'm wondering if I could borrow some vegetables from your organic garden? All of my vegetables are sold to markets in Taipei. My family and I wouldn't dare eat what I grow!"

The generous farmer loaded up his neighbor with organic farm-fresh vegetables. His arms full, Huang said good-bye and joked, "Those consumers in Taipei are really tough; it's a wonder they're not dead yet after gobbling up my vegetables."

Like most other mass production farmers, Huang routinely and heavily sprays pesticides and herbicides on his vegetables, even on the eve of harvest for the market--whatever it takes to send his crops to the market in "top form." It is no wonder he refuses to eat the produce from his own farm.

The Huarong marketplace in Shilin, Taipei, is a crowded place on weekend mornings, as people cluster around vegetable stalls buying groceries for their families. The customers have long stopped asking, "Have these vegetables been sprayed with pesticides?" Instead, they are asking, "How long ago were they last sprayed?" We overheard one shopper ask, "They wouldn't spray daikon radishes, would they?" A fellow customer answered her, "Root foods don't need spraying... Even if they were sprayed, the chemicals wouldn't stick... well, not too much, I hope."

Conversations like these abound around the food stalls. Zhan Cai-ru, an organic farmer for the past 20 years, just laughs, "Each person in Taiwan ingests the equivalent of two bottles of food-borne insecticides a year." Although her claim might not stand up to rigorous scientific scrutiny, it is an unofficially acknowledged fact in Taiwan that there are excessive amounts of residual harmful chemicals on vegetables. Local consumers know about it, but often don't know what to do about it. Without alternatives, they continue going to the market to buy large quantities of contaminated food.

Taiwanese consumers must often weigh their desire for robust-looking produce against the knowledge that such appearance comes at a cost. Take strawberries, for example. Consumers know that, fragile as they are, agricultural strawberries have no chance of surviving without pesticides. They also know that organically grown fruits and vegetables are going to bear natural blemishes. Given the choice, what type of strawberry will they choose? More often than not, consumers will pick out and buy only those strawberries that appear to be flawless on the outside and eat them with their fingers tightly crossed. Lai Yi-qin, a customer at one fruit stall, explained her own approach to preparing strawberries and grapes for eating: "I soak them in water a bit longer and wash them very thoroughly. That makes me feel safer."

[Translator's note: As I walked by a strawberry patch along a popular bikeway in Dongshi, not far from Wu's Little Ladybug Organic Farm, I came across a farmer spraying some insecticides. At his feet was a sign with block characters that read, "Organic Strawberries. You Pick." I had to cover my nose and rush to get away from the foul-smelling spray in the air. When I turned around and walked by this patch again an hour later, the chemical smell was still unmistakably there.]

David Platt Rall, MD, PhD, was a renowned cancer researcher and former director of the U.S. National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences and the National Toxicology Program. More than anyone else, his name is synonymous with "environmental health research." In a report summarizing the findings of a five-year study conducted by the U.S. Department of Agriculture, Dr. Rall revealed something very frightening: in every type of fruit tested, the DOA found the presence of pesticides, even after washing. For example, eight types of pesticides were in apples, seven in peaches, and six in grapes, even though all had been washed and were considered ready to eat.

These disturbing findings on American produce come as no surprise to Dr. Alan Ronald Talbot of Changhua Christian Hospital in Changhua, central Taiwan. He publicly declared that the herbicides and pesticides used by Taiwan's farmers were 20 times more concentrated than levels allowed by international standards. "Chemicals applied at this level of concentration cannot be removed from crops by washing or soaking in water alone," explained Dr. Talbot. The high concentration of chemicals hurts everyone, from the farmer to the consumer. Naturally, it is a serious threat to the health of the consuming public, but it is also a major culprit in the premature onset of dementia and Alzheimer's disease among Taiwan's farmers.

Not only do poisonous pesticides and herbicides stay with the garden products to which they are applied, they also linger in the soil, drift in the air, and leech into streams and municipal water supplies. In this way, the overuse of chemicals severely damages and threatens residents, the land, and the ecosystem in Taiwan.

"The land ethic simply enlarges the boundaries of the community to include soils, waters, plants, and animals, or collectively: the land," stated Aldo Leopold (1887-1948). Considered by many to be the father of wildlife management and of the United States' wilderness system, Leopold was a conservationist, forester, philosopher, educator, writer, and outdoor enthusiast. That human beings should coexist in harmony with the land, including the soil, was chief among Leopold's ideals. Using the yardsticks laid out in his The Land Ethic, the fact that Taiwan's soils are exhausted, infertile, and contaminated indicates that the people are not living in harmony with the land.

Organic in this ecology?

A colleague and I were walking on Xinyi Boulevard in Taipei when we saw a woman exit a grocery store carrying some loquats. I stepped toward her to inquire about her purchase. She replied, "I come here because I can buy loquats, not because they have organic loquats." She added, "Can they really grow anything organic in an ecosystem like Taiwan's? I doubt it."

However, according to Hu Mei-chang, the answer to the customer's question is quite affirmative. A member of the Mokichi Okada International Association, Hu has been eating vegetables delivered to his home by organic farmers for the past eight years. In that time, she has seen marked improvements in her own health. Hu also asserts that the natural aroma and taste of organic vegetables "are very addictive."

The Little Ladybug Organic Farm is the first organic farm in Taiwan to receive certification from the MOA headquarters in Japan. The three-acre farm, located in Dongshi, central Taiwan, sits about 400 meters above sea level, surrounded by undeveloped hills and a stream at its feet. The area is frequented by an amazing variety of birds and insects; biodiversity and vitality are evident in this area.

Wu Jian-wang, the owner of the farm, stood under a 350-year old mango tree on a ridge between fields as he talked about his life on the farm. "It's been a voyage of sweat, challenge, and satisfaction. Acting as trailblazers, we've had to face many issues without the benefit of readily available guides and reference materials. We had to grow seedlings, make compost, collect and clean rain run-off. We even designed shields to protect vegetables from heavy downpours."

Experts from the Taiwan Environmental Information Center visited Wu's farm a few days before we did. Among other things, the experts tried to find and record bird songs on the premises. They concluded that the farm's ecological preservation efforts have shown encouraging success and promise.

This has not always been the case, however. The Little Ladybug farm, founded by Wu's great-grandfather and passed down from father to son over the generations, is situated in a century-old area known as Taiwan's "Citrus Capital." It's not surprising that Wu's ancestors grew nothing but oranges. During this time, the broad application of pesticides, fertilizers, and herbicides to maximize the production of oranges was all the rage. The fruits were homogeneous, predictable, insect-and-splotch-free, aesthetically pleasing, juicy, sweet, and perfect in every way. Not so easily visible was the high degree of chemical contamination.

As his father did before him, Wu grew up helping his Dad spray pesticides on the farm. Many neighboring farmers fell sick because of chemical poisoning. Some even suspected that the overuse of chemicals contributed to a widespread outbreak of a mycoplasma-like organism and Tristeza virus, the cancer of oranges. The plagues withstood almost all attacks devised by top botanical experts and destroyed many orange trees in the area. Even so, every farmer in the area seemed to have accepted spraying with chemicals as an unchangeable fact of life.

Although Wu grew up on the farm, he did not follow in his father's footsteps. He became an electronic engineering instructor, and he then owned and operated a successful construction firm. But the pull of the family's orange groves was too strong for Wu. Eventually, he chose to "live the way he dreamed of most" by coming back home to the farm. In 1993, Wu took over the farm from his father.

Attending a seminar on farming that year, Wu was awed to hear for the first time that crops could be raised free of chemicals. This prompted him to seek out information and advice about organic farming. After much learning, thought, discussion, and soul-searching, he and his wife boldly decided to cut down all the orange trees and switch to planting organic vegetables. His life has not been the same since.

At the beginning of this new era, Wu and his wife mostly had to wait and learn: wait for the land to detoxify and revive, and learn from more experts. The couple carefully felt their way forward. They endured many lean seasons. Some years, "there were more weeds than vegetables." Eventually, however, they saw the light at the end of this trying tunnel.

In 2000, Taiwan's Council of Agriculture invited a German expert to visit the Little Ladybug farm. He examined all aspects of the operation. Before leaving, the taciturn visitor finally commented, "Judging from the condition of your soil, I can tell that you are treating the farm with your heart." Mrs. Wu could not hide her smile as she told us about that visitor's compliment. The difficult times were about to be replaced by sweet harvests ahead.

As we talked with Wu, he pulled a sandbur out of the ground to show its plump, long roots. They were almost as long as the stalk itself. He explained, "The soil here is healthy and balanced, rich in potassium and phosphorous. Only vegetables grown in this kind of soil will have the natural flavors and tastes that nature intended. Vegetables grown in soil enriched only with nitrogen, as is common in non-organic, mass-production oriented farms, will have pleasing, picture-perfect appearances but no taste. Fair without, foul within."

I plucked some string beans off their vines and put them right into my mouth. I chewed slowly to savor the experience: from tender, snappy and crisp to lightly sweet and flavorful. It stimulated my taste buds so much that I was reluctant to swallow the delightful mouthful.

Price vs. value

Some experts are predicting a dichotomy in the near future where the poor will be limited to non-organic and genetically altered foods while the rich eat higher-priced organic foods.

In the produce section of a grocery store, we watched as housewife Lin Yi-min looked at the organic signs on her left and then turned toward the right to pick up a bunch of spinach from the heap without the organic signs. She explained, "These are only half the price of the organic ones! Organic foods will have to wait until I get rich. Besides, a balanced diet and regular exercise is more important than eating organic foods."

But not everyone holds the same opinion. Some people who have suffered with and recovered from chronic diseases equate organic to healthy, regardless of the price. For them, organically raised food is just as important as a balanced diet and exercise in maintaining one's health. Ye Ci-fen is a prime example. She eats raw vegetables and fruits as part of her therapy and is certain of the importance of organic foods in regaining the health that she had once lost. She does not hesitate to pay more for organic foods.

Ms. Ye thinks of buying organic foods as an investment in her own health. It is a simple matter of choice. Some people choose to squander their money on brand name merchandise or gourmet foods; she chooses to pay more for organic foods. "I would rather save money on other material things and pay attention to my health," she explains. She pointed out to us that there are bogus products being sold that are shamelessly labeled and marketed as organic. Therefore, she does not put her trust in labels or advertisements. She usually goes by word-of-mouth when choosing stores in which to purchase her organic foods.

Zhuang Zi-lin, also a housewife, has another approach to organic produce. She eats all of her organic foods raw. "There is no doubt that organic vegetables are more costly, but I save money on fuel and seasonings by not cooking them. I improve my health at the same time."

Professor Tung Shih-jui of the Graduate Institute of Agricultural Extension Education at National Chung Hsing University in Taichung points out a problem facing those who farm organically for a living: "There is a disconnect between the suppliers of organic produce and the people that are buying it. It is not even clear to the growers where their consumers are. Similarly, consumers cannot easily find suppliers of organically grown produce." Dr. Tung further contends that without a larger consumer base, the cost of production will remain high.

As with any business, an organic farm needs to earn a reasonable profit to sustain itself. Dr. Tung believes that, aside from profits, the organic farming industry has a moral responsibility to offer the general public healthful products and leave a healthier ecosystem to following generations. He suggests that organic farmers should teach consumers that the higher prices for organic foods directly help preserve natural ecosystems. Dr. Tung believes that this approach may increase consumers' willingness to pay more for organic foods.

Dr. Ruan Chun-fa is a professor in the Department of Agricultural Economics, National Taiwan University. In his study, Organic Farming: A Survey and Analysis of Managerial Strategies, he concluded that the preferred sales channel for local organic farmers is when consumers visit and purchase produce from farms. Apparently, organic farmers are interested in more than profitability. They want to establish an interactive and mutually beneficial relationship with their consumers based on honesty and trust. Professor Ruan calls this "the marketing model of organic farming."

At the Little Ladybug Organic Farm, Wu has chosen to sell his produce to consumers by offering them "memberships" to his farm. He currently has more than 200 stable members, and he ships or delivers vegetables to each of them twice a week. Every member gets the same quantity of vegetables as every other member. This simplifies the shipping process tremendously. Wu decides what type of vegetables to send based on the actual harvest. He personally delivers to the metropolitan Taichung area, about 15 miles from his farm. The rest of the shipments, from Keelung in the north to Pingdong in the south, are shipped via commercial delivery services. Members pay for the produce when it is delivered to them.

Wu jokingly says that as each box of vegetables leaves the farm, he feels as though he is marrying his own daughter off, hoping that she will be treated well in her new home. With this attitude towards his produce, it is easy to see why Wu insists that a prospective member visit his farm before joining. Visitors are invited to see, listen, touch, and smell the land, the compost, the earthworms, and the vegetables. They talk extensively with Hu and his wife. There is even a white wooden guesthouse on his farm where visitors can stay overnight. He helps each visitor gain a thorough knowledge of, and develop a solid trust in, his entire farming operation. He wants to foster a mutual understanding that is so essential to a lasting relationship. An added benefit is that he gets to know his future members too.

Tagging along with Wu as he delivered vegetables in Taichung, photographer Hsiao Yiu-hwa observed that Wu entered and exited members' houses as if they were his own. Wu said, "Buying from me for three years makes you a customer. Buying from me for five years makes you a friend." His approach has shortened the distance, literally and figuratively, between his farm and his customer base. In turn, people are willing to pay more for the quality of the products, the knowledge they acquire, and the special relationship that Wu fosters.

There never seems to be an end to the work required on the farm. Employees remove harmful insects by hand. Vegetables prosper in the fertile ground, but so do weeds. Pulling them, as opposed to spraying them, is yet another never-ceasing, back-breaking task. Detoxification of the soils, after so many years of chemical treatments, also took a lot of time. Nothing could rush the process, nor could anyone have hurried nature along. Add occasional operating losses into the picture and it is easy to appreciate why Wu and other organic growers cherish every single vegetable that leaves their gardens.

Upholding an ideal takes its toll

Unfortunately, not every organic farmer in Taiwan has experienced the same success that Wu and his Little Ladybug farm has enjoyed. Some farmers have not been able to stay afloat. Ye Bo-qing, owner of The Green Abundance Environmental Protection Farm in Miaoli County, central Taiwan, is one such casualty. In order to get his organic farm off the ground, Ye sold all he had to raise money. When his business was facing tough times, he even had to borrow from others. The unbearable pressures of everyday living and keeping the farm solvent caused his wife to suffer severe depression.

After nine years of hard work, Ye's organic farm business finally began to go smoother. Even so, he decided to close down the farm indefinitely in 2005. He currently owns and operates a restaurant. The small quantity of organic vegetables he still grows are for his own family's consumption. He laments that as much as he loved to farm organically as a career, he had a family to support. Because the task had been so tough on him and his family, he finally decided to quit. When I interviewed him, his agony and ambivalence about making that decision were plainly perceptible on his face and in his voice.

The making of organic and poison-less farming

Residents of Mount Zion, the spiritual center of the New Testament Church in southern Taiwan, have been farming without pesticides or chemical fertilizers since 1964. Li Ming-wei, a follower of the faith, has lived there with over 200 others for more than 20 years. He showed us around. Passing the "Staff Only" sign, we reached Mount Zion's renowned compost-making facility, which produces high quality organic fertilizer from the excrement of earthworms. The process is painstakingly slow, and even a little fertilizer requires a long time. Li joked, "Earthworms are small enough, not to mention their feces." The result, however, is worth the time required, as many consider it the best organic fertilizer available.

Next, Li showed us rows of cattle droppings heaped on the ground under a simple tarpaulin shelter. Not particularly stinky to begin with, the fermented manure is now virtually odorless. Taking a closer look, we can see that the manure teems with life, in some places literally wiggling with activity. Li explains that thousands upon thousands of earthworms live and feed within. The droppings from grass-grazing cattle are the absolute favorite food for earthworms. The earthworm's excrement in turn becomes the preferred fertilizer for vegetables. It is just this simple: everything in nature needs something from, and gives something to, others.

Lai Wei-jie, chief of staff at the Taiwan Green Citizens Action Federation, quoted a friend of his: "You see more lightning bugs flying around lately. It may be because more land is being laid fallow and less pesticide is being sprayed." Since joining the World Trade Organization in 2002, Taiwan's industries have measured everything only in terms of market values and market competitiveness. However, Lai contends that there are other less visible but perhaps more significant factors to consider as well. For example, he argues that we should also consider the interactions and interdependencies among the diverse inhabitants of nature, the food chain, biodiversity, and the sentiment toward the land that many of us naturally feel. Lai asks, "Don't these factors have value as well? Can you attach a 'market value' to these considerations?"

Up until very recently, hunger was a major threat to our existence. (Unfortunately, too many still face this daunting threat today.) Our ancestors depended on the heavens (climatic factors like temperature and rainfall) and the land for their livelihood and survival. Therefore, they cherished the land for themselves and for their descendents. Has that reverence dissipated now?

The destiny of human beings cannot be separated from that of the Earth. As a "member organism" of the earth, human beings should treat and respect the earth as a sacred source--as a mother--not just as a resource for endless consumption.

In the name of profitability, agricultural technologies usher in unnatural things like chemicals, heavy metals, nitrates, and irradiated fruits and vegetables. Agriculture and land use have been turned inside out and changed beyond recognition, taking a heavy toll on Mother Earth. Polluted and overworked soils are burdensome and costly to restore to their natural state before organic farming can take place. This is a deterrent for people contemplating organic farming as a business.

Soon after the United States put the first astronaut on the moon, a reporter in New York state went to a Native American reservation to ask an elder for his opinion of the celestial event. The elder wanted to make sure to give a wise answer, so he gathered his people to discuss and formulate a response. Based upon what humans had already done to this world, they carefully extrapolated what might happen to the moon after seven generations. Then the elder told the reporter, "We will answer your question with another question--How can we warn the moon?"

The Native Americans sought guidance for their behavior by looking forward to the welfare of the next seven generations. Even looking a mere two generations ahead would still seem a worthwhile goal for all the current and prospective organic farmers out there to strive for--a goal to help them hang in there and, with luck, to prosper.