Sometimes great matters depend upon… vegetables. Ancient civilization
was founded on the simple discovery that grasses could become grains,
reliable and storable, allowing the emergence of fixed Fertile Crescent
cities with rulers and philosophers. But vegetables can also yield
disaster. The failure of the Irish potato crop in the mid-1840s not only
brought terrible suffering to that island but has blighted Anglo-Irish
relations ever since. Few other episodes have left such a toxic
aftertaste, with over 100 memorials around the world and countless
cultural references.
Canadian historian Padraic X. Scanlan has Irish antecedents, and
generally left-of-center views. Still, he writes a careful analysis of
an episode that is far from England’s finest hour. He has steeped
himself not only in the cultivation, mythology, and natural history of
the potato, but also in the cultural, economic, industrial, mercantile,
and political currents which together heaped horrors on the Irish. He
shows that what is often portrayed as a medieval-style catastrophe was
in fact a modern one, a predictable product of the dynamic 19th
century—and, furthermore, offers insights for our world regarding
economic insecurities, environmental destruction, and ever-evolving
pathogens.
Sometime in 1844 or 1845, a cargo of seed potatoes from America was
offloaded somewhere in Europe. Unfortunately, that cargo contained an
unobtrusive mold called Phytophthora infestans, which launched
itself onto the Old World with alacrity. Potato crops from Spain to
Sweden were affected, causing dearth and deaths, but the direst effects
were felt in Ireland, where the population was uniquely dependent on the
potato. In 1841, there were some 8.2 million people in Ireland; by
1851, that number decreased to 6.5 million, through death by starvation
or disease, or forced emigration. Such was the culture shock that for
almost a century afterwards the population of Ireland would continue to
decline. The Irish government still issues annual warnings to farmers about the likelihood of blight.
Although Ireland had much fertile land and was famous for dairy and
meat products, millions had been perilously reliant on the potato as
early as the 1730s. There had been crop failures before; in 1740–41, the
harvest was ruined by weather,
and 300,000 died, a proportionally higher number than would die during
the famine. Since its arrival in Tudor times, the potato had proved its
worth as a cheap, easily cultivated, and highly nutritious staple. Grown
and eaten close to home, the potato was largely insulated from market
vagaries that were just becoming important with the rise of industry and
commodity capitalism. Landlords encouraged it because it could feed
more workers on less land, leaving acreages open to more lucrative grain
or livestock. (Read more.)