Tom Philpott

Coca-Cola to World: Don't Stop Swilling Sugary Drinks, Just Exercise!

| Mon Aug. 10, 2015 5:32 PM EDT

Stunningly, one-third of American adults have a condition called metabolic syndrome, defined as "a cluster of major cardiovascular risk factors related to overweight/obesity and insulin resistance." People with metabolic syndrome are twice as likely to develop heart disease as people without it, and five times as likely to develop full-blown type II diabetes. Meanwhile, a growing body of research links insulin resistance with Alzheimer's and other forms of cognitive decline.

There's a solid consensus that two things need to happen to reverse this budding calamity: People need to eat better—less hyperprocessed, sugar-laden fare—and exercise more.

Now, if you were in the business of selling sweet beverages—ones that contain about nine teaspoons of sugar per 12-ounce serving—you'd have an interest in suggesting that maybe diet's not that big of an issue, after all. Instead of cutting down on soda, why not just take an extra walk around the block?

According to this New York Times exposé, Coca-Cola, the globe's biggest purveyor of sugary drinks, invested $1.5 million last year to launch the Global Energy Balance Network, which, the Times reports, "promotes the argument that weight-conscious Americans are overly fixated on how much they eat and drink while not paying enough attention to exercise."

The beverage maker has also invested "close to $4 million in funding for various projects spearheaded by two prominent US health academics who serve on GEBN's executive committee, the Times adds. One of them, University of South Carolina health professor Steven Blair, is featured in the above video insisting that "most of the focus in the popular media and in the scientific press is, 'Oh they're eating too much, eating too much, eating too much'—blaming fast food, blaming sugary drinks, and so on [for rising obesity rates]… And there's really virtually no compelling evidence that that, in fact, is the cause."

Meanwhile, the World Health Organization recommends holding added sugar consumption to about 25 grams (six teaspoons) per day—meaning a single Coke (nine teaspoons of sugar) will take you 50 percent over its daily recommendation. My colleague Maddie Oatman has a great piece on just how easy it is to catapult over the six-teaspoon limit in the sugar-happy US food environment.

Now, Coke's high-dollar drumbeating about how sugary drinks don't matter much may be nefarious, but it’s also sort of desperate. People are wising up—soda sales have fallen for 10 straight years.

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The Big-Ag-Fueled Algae Bloom That Won't Leave Toledo's Water Supply Alone

| Wed Aug. 5, 2015 5:05 AM EDT
A vast Lake Erie algae bloom returns, captured by a NASA satelite on July 28.

The citizens of Toledo, Ohio, have embarked upon their new summer ritual: stocking up on bottled water. For the second straight year, an enormous algae bloom has settled upon Lake Erie, generating nasty toxins right where the city of 400,000 draws its tap water.

It's a kind of throwback to Toledo's postwar heyday, when the Rust Belt's booming factories deposited phosphorus-laced wastewater into streams that made their way into Lake Erie, feeding algae growths that rival today's in size. But after the decline of heavy industry and the advent of the Clean Water Act, there's a new main source of algae-feeding phosphorus into the beleaguered lake: fertilizer runoff from industrial-scale corn and soybean farms. (Background here.) 

A Federal Judge Just Struck Down Idaho’s Law Against Secretly Videotaping Animal Abuse on Farms

| Tue Aug. 4, 2015 5:34 PM EDT

Captured by undercover investigators and released in 2012, the above video depicts a disturbing scene inside a large Idaho dairy facility. We see workers committing various acts of violence against cows: kicking and punching them, beating them with rods, twisting their tails, and, most graphically, wrapping a chain around the neck of a downed cow and dragging it with a tractor. The exposed dairy promptly fired five workers in the aftermath, but behind the scenes, Idaho's $6.6 billion dairy industry quietly began working with its friends in the state legislature on a different response, according to US District Court Judge B. Lynn Winmill.

In a decision released Monday, Winmill wrote that the Idaho Dairymen's Association "responded to the negative publicity by drafting and sponsoring" a bill that criminalizes the "types of undercover investigations that exposed the [violent] activities." Known as ag gag legislation—check out Ted Genoways' must-read Mother Jones piece on the phenomenon—it sailed through the Idaho Legislature and became a law in 2014.

Winmill declared the law unconstitutional in his decision, stating that its only purpose is to "limit and punish those who speak out on topics relating to the agricultural industry, striking at the heart of important First Amendment values." Moreover, the judge ruled, the law violates the Equal Protection Clause of the 14th Amendment, "as well as preemption claims under three different federal statutes." Ouch.

According to Food Safety News, seven other states have similar ag gag laws on the books. "This ruling is so clear, so definitive, so sweeping," Leslie Brueckner, senior attorney for Public Justice (co-counsel for the plaintiffs in the case), told ThinkProgress. "We couldn't ask for a better building block in terms of striking these laws down in other states."

Fumes From Iowa Hog-Manure Pit Kill Father and Son

| Thu Jul. 30, 2015 5:56 PM EDT
Hogs in a concentrated animal feeding operation (CAFO). Note the slatted floor.

Here's another reason why Americans should think twice about how the United States is emerging as the globe's hog farm: concentrating thousands of hogs in one place means concentrating huge amounts of their shit, too; and that shit puts off gases that are so noxious that they can kill people who work near them. Think I'm exaggerating? Get this, from the Des Moines Register:

A father and his son who were so close that they were “like glue” were killed Saturday by noxious fumes from a northwest Iowa hog manure pit—the second father and son in the Midwest to die of poisonous manure pit gases this month.

These large, indoor facilities confine hogs above their own waste on a slatted floor—the waste falls through the slats and collects in a pit below. An incredibly putrid aroma—I've smelled it—shrouds these facilities. The air contains hydrogen sulfide, methane, ammonia, carbon dioxide, and volatile organic compounds. Hogs can live above these poison-gas cesspools because giant fans keep the air moving. But when something goes wrong beneath the slats, workers have to venture into places where there is no effective ventilation. And that's what happened on this Iowa hog farm, to heartbreaking effect.

The two were repairing a pump at a hog confinement when a piece of equipment they were using fell into the manure pit, Wempen [a relative] said. Austin Opheim went into the pit first to retrieve the equipment, and his father followed him after realizing his son had been overcome by gases, Wempen said. ...  “(Gene) was carrying Austin on his back and bringing him up and he got almost to the top and he got overcome, and down they went,” she said.

An eerily similar father-son tragedy occurred in Wisconsin earlier in July.

Such disasters can usually be averted by donning proper breathing equipment when venturing beneath the slats. But in recent years, Midwestern hog facilities have been beset by a mysterious foam that settles at the surface of manure pits, which creates a buildup of volatile gases that that has caused many explosions. Back in June, two workers at a Minnesota hog farm died in a fire that erupted after they had been cleaning the slats of an empty hog facility—apparently the result of "power-washing activities bursting the foam bubbles in the manure pit" below. And last year, reports the trade journal Pork Network, a "similar fire in Iowa severely burned Leon Sheets, a past president of the Iowa Pork Producers Association, as he power-washed one of his hog barns."

Watch What It's Like to Live Amidst Industrial Hog Farms

| Wed Jul. 29, 2015 12:33 PM EDT

As I showed recently, the United States is emerging as the world's hog farm—the country where massive foreign meat companies like Brazil's JBS and China's WH Group (formerly Shuanghui) alight when they want to take advantage of rising global demand for pork. (If JBS's recent deal to buy Cargill's US hog operations goes through, JBS and WH Group together will slaughter 45 percent of hogs grown in the United States.)

A recent piece by Lily Kuo in Quartz (companion video above) documents what our status as the world's source of cheap pork means for the people who live in industrial-hog country. It focuses on Duplin County in eastern North Carolina, which houses "about 530 hog operations with capacity for over 2 million pigs ….one of the highest concentrations of large, tightly-controlled indoor hog operations, also known as CAFOs (concentrated animal feeding operations) in the world." In Duplin, "hogs outnumber humans almost 32 to 1," Kuo reports. And that means living amid lots and lots of pig shit—the county's hog facilities generate twice the annual waste of the entire population of New York City.

As I've shown before, the hog industry doesn't build wealth in the communities where it operates—the opposite, in fact. "Almost a quarter of the population lives below the poverty line, making Duplin County one of the poorest counties in North Carolina," Kuo writes. "It is also disproportionately black and Hispanic compared to the rest of the state."

Scientists Say Supposedly Miraculous Ingredients in Weed Killers Don't Actually Work

| Wed Jul. 29, 2015 5:00 AM EDT

Before pesticides go from the laboratory to the farm field, they have to first be vetted by the Environmental Protection Agency. But they're commonly mixed—sometimes by the pesticide manufacturers, sometimes by the farmers themselves—with substances called adjuvants that boost their effectiveness (to spread more evenly on a plant's leaf in the case of insecticides, or to penetrate a plant's outer layer, allowing herbicides to effectively kill weeds). Despite their ubiquity, adjuvants aren't vetted by the EPA at all; they're considered "inert" ingredients.

Despite their ubiquity, adjuvants aren't vetted by the EPA at all; they're considered "inert" ingredients.

I first wrote about them last year, when adjuvants mixed with fungicides came under suspicion of triggering a large bee die-off during California's almond bloom. Recently, an eye-popping article by Purdue weed scientists in the trade journal Ag Professional brought them to my attention again. The piece illustrates the unregulated, Wild West nature of these additives.

In the article, the authors note that two companies are hotly promoting adjuvant products as a kind of miracle cure for the ever-increasing scourge of herbicide-resistant weeds. That's a bold claim, given that resistant weeds now plague more than 60 million acres of farmland.

Odder still, both companies attribute their products' effectiveness to nanotechnology, a controversial, lightly regulated engineering tool that leverages the fact that when you break common substances into tiny particles, they behave in radically different ways than they do at normal sizes. Nanoparticles are so tiny, their size is measured in nanometers—a billionth of a meter. (A human hair is about 80,000 nanometers thick; nanoparticles typically measure in at less than 100 nanometers.)

An adjuvant called ChemXcel, from a Minnesota-based company called C&R Enterprises, claims to "kill herbicide-resistant weeds" when mixed with common herbicides like glyphosate. It works its magic through "patented, proprietary nano-drivers" that "alter the glyphosate chemistry" by "coating the individual DNA gene-sequencing molecules internally," the company claims.

Then there's NanoRevolution 2.0, marketed by a company called Max Systems. When goosed with a bit of NanoRevolution 2.0, the company states, "the herbicide 'piggybacks' onto the nano particles as they penetrate the leaf structure, carrying the herbicide directly to the root system for a faster enhanced plant absorption of herbicides even on hard-to-control weeds."

Taken aback by the claims and the use of nanotech, I contacted the EPA to see what, if anything, the agency had to say. "While we are not familiar with those particular products, EPA has jurisdiction over substances that meet the definition of pesticides, that is, claims are made for them that they kill, repel, prevent, or otherwise control pests," an Environmental Protection Agency spokesperson wrote in an email. "As long as pesticide adjuvant products don’t make pesticidal claims, they are not pesticides and the components of adjuvants are therefore not pesticide ingredients (either active or inert)"—and thus not subject to EPA vetting. Manufacturers aren't even required to list ingredients in adjuvants.

Here, for example, is Max Systems describes the ingredients of NanoRevolution 2.0:

Purdue weed scientist Bill Johnson, who co-authored the Ag Professional piece, says he and his team found that neither of these "nano" products work as advertised. "I began getting calls about reports that these things were being pushed in northern Indiana, and I thought, we need to prove or disprove the claims."

Carbon nanotubes  are one of the most controversial nanoparticles—often compared to asbestos for their ability to lodge into the lungs and cause trouble when they're breathed in.

So he and colleagues tested the products on a weed patch known to be glyphosate resistant, mixing them with glyphosate at levels recommended by the manufactures. The results, published in the trade journal Ag Professional, were underwhelming. On its own, Roundup (Monsanto's version of the glyphosate herbicide) killed just 13.8 percent of weeds. Mixed with ChemXcel, it killed 15 percent of weeds, while the called NanoRevolution 2.0/Roundup mix killed 18 percent of weeds.

Johnson explained that herbicides are always mixed with adjuvants—they're typically needed to help the herbicide penetrate a weed's outer layer. But these particular ones perform no better or worse than conventional adjuvants on the market. But they don't come anywhere near to solving the herbicide-resistance problem, as the companies claim to do.

C.J. Mannenga, co owner of C&R Enterprises, pushed back strongly on Johnson's assessment and challenged his results. "We know our product works," he said. "We've shown it in Georgia, we've shown in Ohio, we've shown it in Missouri, we've shown it in Iowa," he said. When we spoke Tuesday afternoon, Mannenga told me that he was in Osborne, Kansas, about to "meet with a major [agrichemical] distributor" who is "extremely interested in the product ... I'm going to do a demonstration to show them indeed it does work."

While the product's information sheet doesn't list its active ingredients, he readily revealed it to me: "it's just carbon nanotubes."

Carbon nanotubes  are one of the most controversial nanoparticles—often compared to asbestos for their ability to lodge into the lungs and cause trouble when they're breathed in. This 2014 assessment by researchers at the University of Massachusetts at Lowell is hardly comforting:

Though ecosystem impacts remain understudied across the CNT [carbon nanotube] lifecycle, evidence suggests that some aquatic organisms may be at risk. While there have been significant advances in the regulation of CNTs in recent years, the lack of attention to the potential carcinogenic effects of these nanomaterials means that current efforts may provide a false sense of security.

Meanwhile, no one employed by NanoRevolution 2.0 maker Max Systems returned my request for comment.

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Enjoy Your Romaine—While It Lasts

| Wed Jul. 22, 2015 5:00 AM EDT

The mighty Central Valley hogs the headlines, but California's Salinas Valley is an agricultural behemoth, too. A rifle-shaped slice of land jutting between two mountain ranges just south of Monterey Bay off the state's central coast, it's home to farms that churn out nearly two-thirds of the salad greens and half of the broccoli grown in the United States. Its leafy-green dominance has earned it the nickname "the salad bowl of the world." And while the Central Valley's farm economy reels under the strain of drought—it's expected to sustain close to $2.7 billion worth of drought-related losses—Salinas farms are operating on all cylinders, reports the San Jose Mercury News.

As the Salinas Valley's freshwater vanishes and dips below sea level, seawater from the coast seeps in to take its place—which isn't good news for crops.

What gives? It all comes down to water sources. In normal years, Central Valley farmers draw more than half of their water from the vast, publicly funded irrigation projects that carry snow melt from the Sierra Nevada mountain range, with underground aquifers providing the rest. With the Sierra Nevada water essentially gone—snows have been minuscule the past four winters—the region's farmers have been scrambling to tap as much underground water as possible. But they can't make up for the massive shortfall, so they're fallowing large tracts of land (not almonds and pistachios, though—they keep expanding) and laying off thousands of farm workers.

Meanwhile, farmers in the Salinas Valley rely nearly 100 percent on underground aquifers, drought or no. And that means "the drought's a marvelous time to grow stuff, if you have the water under full control, because you can take advantage of predictable weather and strong prices," Richard Howitt, ag economist at UC Davis, tells the Mercury News. (Prices are strong because drought-stricken farms in the Central Valley have cut back on production of non-permanent crops, reducing supply.)

But all isn't well under those fields teeming with ripe vegetables and hustling farm workers. For one thing, decades of heavy nitrogen-fertilizer use has left underground water widely contaminated with high levels of nitrate, which isn't good for the people who rely on it for drinking water, because nitrate can reduce the blood's ability to carry oxygen and has been linked to elevated rates of birth defects and cancers of the ovaries and thyroid. A US Geological Survey spreadsheet (pdf version)—part of a recent USGS study of California's water quality I wrote about here—shows that 20 percent of the region's wells (see row "SCR-Salinas") have over-the-legal–limit nitrate levels.

Worse, the region's aquifers, the lifeblood of its $8.2 billion ag economy and sole source of drinking water, are in a "state of long-term overdraft," a 2014 assessment from the California Water Foundation found. The paper notes that when the California Department of Water Resources released its ranking of the state's aquifers based on those that are under the most stress, all eight of the Salinas Valley's aquifers made the list of most-stressed basins. And the state's number-one most-stressed aquifer of all doesn't lie under some vast, arid pistachio grove in the southern Central Valley; rather, it's the Salinas' East Side Aquifer.

The problem isn't just that the area's farms—which account for 90 percent of its water use—are sucking out billions of gallons more water from aquifers every year than is naturally replenished, as this 2014 report prepared for Monterey County found. It's also that as the freshwater vanishes and dips below sea level, seawater from the coast seeps in to take its place—not good, because crops don't grow well in salty water.

So, while the drought has so far caused few immediate problems for Salinas Valley farmers, they're standing over a ticking time bomb—and so are the consumers who rely on them for salad greens and other fruits and veggies: that is to say, Americans. "The irony is that in the short run, the Central Coast farmers are better off," UC-Davis ag economist Howitt told the Mercury News. "But in the long run they've got to get their [water] credit card under control."

California Drinking Water: Not Just Vanishing, But Also Widely Contaminated

| Mon Jul. 20, 2015 5:00 AM EDT

In normal years, California residents get about 30 percent of their drinking water from underground aquifers. And in droughts like the current one—with sources like snowmelt from the Sierra Nevada mountains virtually non-existent—groundwater supplies two-thirds of our most populous state's water needs. So it's sobering news that about 20 percent of the groundwater that Californians rely on to keep their taps flowing carries high concentrations of contaminants like arsenic, uranium, and nitrate.

When farms sprouted up, they mobilized the once-stable uranium naturally present in the soil, and the toxic element leached into groundwater.

That's the conclusion of a ten-year US Geological Survey study of 11,000 public-water wells across the state. The researchers tested the wells for a variety of contaminants, looking for levels above thresholds set by the Environmental Protection Agency and/or the California State Water Resources Board.

Interestingly, naturally occurring trace elements like arsenic, manganese, and uranium turned up at high levels much more commonly than did agriculture-related chemicals like nitrate.

In the ag-heavy San Joaquin Valley (the Central Valley's Southern half), for example, you might expect plenty of nitrate in the water, because of heavy reliance on nitrogen fertilizers. Over the limit of 10 parts per million in water, nitrate can impede the blood's ability to carry oxygen and has been linked to elevated rates of birth defects and cancers of the ovaries and thyroid. But while 4.9 percent of wells in the San Joaquin turned up over legal nitrate thresholds, arsenic (over legal limits in 11.2 percent of wells) and uranium (7.4 percent)—neither of which are used in farming—were more common.

But in the case of uranium—which heightens the risk of kidney trouble and cancer when consumed in water over long periods—agriculture isn't off the hook. Kenneth Belitz, the study's lead author and chief of the USGS's National Water Quality Assessment Program, explains that before irrigation, the arid San Joaquin landscape supported very little vegetation, and the naturally occurring uranium in the landscape was relatively stable. But as farms sprouted up, irrigation water reacted with carbon dioxide from now-abundant plant roots to "mobilize" the uranium, pushing it downward at the rate of 5 to ten feet per year and eventually into the water table.

Conversely, some of the regions with highest nitrate levels are former ag areas that are now suburban, Belitz says: northern California's Livermore Valley and southern California's Santa Ana basin. That's because nitrates, too, move through the soil strata at a rate of five to ten feet per year, and take years to accumulate in underground aquifers.

And that means that today's ag-centric areas, including the San Joaquin Valley, could be slowly building up nitrate levels year by year that could lead to much higher nitrate levels in well water in coming decades, Belitz says.

For California residents and policymakers, the reports adds another distressing data point to the current water crisis. The fossil record and climate models suggest that precipitation levels will likely drop significantly compared to 20th century norms going forward, according to UC Berkeley paleoclimatologist B. Lynn Ingram—meaning an ever-growing reliance on groundwater for both farms and residents. Meanwhile, NASA research shows that this increasingly important resource is being drawn down at a much faster pace than it's being replenished. And this latest USGS study suggests that the state's precious, vanishing groundwater supply is widely contaminated. It's enough to make you want to open a bottle of the state's famous wine.

Sorry, Foodies: We're About to Ruin Kale

| Wed Jul. 15, 2015 5:00 AM EDT
If eating kale is good for me, then eating a whole lot it must be even better. Right?

How hipster is kale? For $28, Urban Outfitters will sell you a kale t-shirt. To prep for a big blizzard in early 2015, residents of a trendy Brooklyn section cleaned out the kale bins of their neighborhood Whole Foods. And what would the juicing craze be without it?

Kale is really good at taking up thallium—a toxic heavy metal—from the soil.

But today's kale-fixated juice-heads may doing themselves a disservice.

That's a possibility raised by an article in Craftsmanship magazine by Todd Oppenheimer. The piece doesn't establish a definitive link between heavy kale consumption and any health problem, but it does raise the question of whether too much of even a highly nutritious food like kale can have unhappy side effects.

The article focuses on an alt-medicine researcher and molecular biologist named Ernie Hubbard, who began to notice an odd trend among some of his clinic's clients in California's Marin County, a place known for its organic farms, health-food stores, and yoga studios. Extremely health-conscious people were coming into to complain of "persistent but elusive problems": "Chronic fatigue. Skin and hair issues. Arrhythmias and other neurological disorders. Foggy thinking. Gluten sensitivity and other digestive troubles. Sometimes even the possibility of Lyme Disease."

Hubbard began to find detectable levels of a toxic heavy metal called thallium in patients' blood samples—at higher-than-normal leves—as well as in kale leaves from the region. Meanwhile, "over and over," he found that patients complaining of symptoms associated with low-level thallium poisoning—fatigue, brain fog, etc.—would also be heavy eaters of kale and related vegetables, like cabbage.

And he found, in the form of this 2006 peer-reviewed paper by Czech researchers, evidence that kale is really good at taking up thallium from soil. The paper concluded that kale's ability to accumulate soil-borne thallium is "very high and can be a serious danger for food chains." And here's a peer-reviewed 2013 paper from Chinese researchers finding similar results with green cabbage; a 2015 Chinese study finding green cabbage is so good at extracting thallium from soil that it can be used for "phytoremediation"—i.e., purifying soil of a toxin—and a 2001 one from a New Zealand team finding formidable thallium-scrounging powers in three other members of the brassica family: watercress, radishes, and turnips.

Now, just because kale and other brassicas can effectively take up thallium from soil doesn't mean that they always contain thallium. The metal has to find its way into soil first. It exists at low levels in the Earth's crust, and the main way it gets concentrated at high enough levels to cause worry is through "nearby cement plants, oil drilling, smelting, and, most of all, in the ash that results from coal burning," Oppenheimer reports. The researcher he profiled, Hubbard, has so far not succeeded in nailing down the source of the thallium that he found in his kale samples.

And there's also the question of quantity. One of Hubbard's patients with heightened thallium levels in her urine and mild symptoms of thallium poisoning ate so much cabbage over the years that  she called herself the "cabbage queen." When she "cut way back" on her favorite vegetable, she tells Oppenheimer, her thallium levels dropped, and her symptoms improved. 

Where does all of this evidence, anecdotal and otherwise, leave us—beyond the need of much more research on US-grown kale? There's nothing here that makes me want to stop eating brassicas, probably my favorite vegetable genus and one undeniably loaded with many valuable nutrients.

But it does make me wary of downing brassicas daily at great quantities over extended periods, the way some people may be doing as part of the juice craze. This recipe for "mean green juice," for example, calls for six to eight kale leaves in a single serving—much more than most of us would consume in a side dish of sautéed kale. In all great things—wine, butter, ice cream, even kale—moderation makes sense.

Bacon Is About to Get More Expensive

| Wed Jul. 8, 2015 5:00 AM EDT

While Americans celebrated Independence Day last weekend, the meat industry was partaking of another time-tested tradition: concentration. That's the economists' term for when one big company buys another, resulting in an industry dominated by just a handful of players. And that's what happened when Brazilian meat giant JBS plunked down $1.45 billion to buy the US pork interests of global agribusiness behemoth Cargill.

Sure, the US pork market was already pretty top-heavy before that deal, which won't be consummated until US antitrust authorities approve it. As things stand now, even before the proposed merger, the big four pork packers (including JBS, through its Swift subsidiary) control a hefty 64 percent of the US pork market.

If the deal goes through, the combined JBS/Cargill operation will push out Tyson for the number two slot, Hormel will slide into fourth place, and the new Big Four will slaughter 71.5 percent of the hogs raised in the US. That's a significant concentration of an already-concentrated market.

Phil Howard, a Michigan State University researcher who studies corporate control of the food system, says the deal is "bad news," because "JBS will have even more power to drive down the prices it pays to farmers, and drive up the prices it charges to consumers." He notes that just two companies, Smithfield and JBS, would together own 45.5 percent of the pork market, "moving closer to the Coke/Pepsi model of domination by just two giant firms."

He also notes that Smithfield and JBS are both foreign-owned—JBS, the globe's largest meat company, is based in Brazil, while Smithfield has been owned by the Chinese meat conglomerate Shuanghui since 2013. So why are outside firms muscling into the US pork market? After all, US demand for "the other white meat" isn't exactly cooking. The opposite, in fact.

So, rather than making a play for the domestic pork market, these foreign players are likely aiming to cash in on a rising trend: exports of US-grown pork.

Now, you may note that exports soared through the 2000s and have leveled off more recently. That's why the National Pork Producers Council, the industry's trade group, has been promoting the Trans-Pacific Partnership, the vast proposed trade pact that President Obama and his GOP congressional allies have been hustling to pass. In a post last year, I laid out why the US meat industry loves the TPP: Namely, it would open the floodgates to lucrative markets in Japan, Vietnam, and Malaysia, all of which limit imports of US meat to protect domestic farmers. "A good TPP agreement…would result in exponential growth in US pork exports," the Pork Producers Council declared in a June press release. It is perhaps not a coincidence that JBS made its lunge for Cargill's pork operations just two weeks after the TPP process took a major leap forward, when Congress voted to give Obama "fast track" authority to negotiate trade deals.

So, why shouldn't US farm country emerge as the globe's pork-export powerhouse? As the Pork Producers Council puts it, the US is "one of the lowest cost producers of pork in the world." Indeed, a 2012 USDA report found that it's cheaper to produce pork here than it is in China. But we should remember what it means to be the low-cost producer of a commodity like pork—as muckraking books like Ted Genoways' The Chain and Barry Estabrook's Pig Tales show, the industry abuses labor, fouls the air and waterways, and hollows out rural towns as a matter of course. "Exponential growth in US exports" would be great for our ever-growing pork behemoths; but it's hard to see what's in it for the rest of us.