Taking time to talk about our food

The holiday season once meant thick newspapers. Advertisements aplenty, pages of Christmas sales, followed by post-Christmas sales, and, then, a few of everything else is on sale.

Newspaper content is often far less compelling. We readers are treated to top-10 stories, sometimes written in list form or occasionally as a narrative. I supposed it would be fine if the rearview-mirror stories were only occasional glances back. But all too often they seem to be one after another in too many newspapers.

This year, there's something different in holiday newspapers. It's called "news."

This is a holiday season full of events that are immediate, consequential and developing. There's war, the prospect of a new terrorist act on our soil, a mad cow case from our state, scandals in business and athletic departments and more headlines than can fill the running ticker on the bottom of a television.

Not only is the news cycle 24/7, but the events also seem to rush past us faster than before. That's what I wonder about. How does this frenetic river of information change our national discourse?

One consequence of so many things going on is that it's not as easy to have a conversation about the serious issues of the day. Instead of a full, deep debate over public policy, we can simply move on to the next immediate story.

Yesterday we talked about the war. Today it's mad cow. Tomorrow, who knows?

Then, perhaps, it's never easy to talk about some things.

Nearly two centuries ago, Elias Boudinot, the editor of The Cherokee Phoenix, raised such a question with his readers. His readers in the Cherokee Nation were facing catastrophe: forced removal from their homeland in Georgia. Yet the leaders of the Cherokee Nation weren't keen on diversified views that explored all the options possible.

Boudinot wrote: "It is the duty of every citizen to reflect upon the dangers with which we are surrounded; to view the darkness which seems to lie before our people -- our prospects, and the evils with which we are threatened; to talk over all these matters, and, if possible, come to some definite and satisfactory conclusion."

And, if possible, reach a satisfactory conclusion.

Just rip one headline from today's news and consider our prospects.

One thread in the mad cow story -- at least so far -- might be how the system is working. The U.S. Department of Agriculture warned the public. There's a good chance the government will be extra cautious, recalling some beef and even killing animals that aren't suspected of the disease (this is what's happened in other countries). We consumers are probably safe.

Yet the economic and psychological effects will be huge. It will take a long time for consumers here and elsewhere in the world to eat beef the way they did a few days ago.

So what are we not talking about here? The very way we raise cows (and other animals).

A few years ago, Europe had a major episode of bovine spongiform encephalopathy. In December 2000, the European Union banned the use of animal-derived feed and ordered the slaughter of thousands of cows (as well as a comprehensive screening program). More government resources were also directed at the science.

Then the markets changed.

While most European beef sales declined (recovering somewhat two years later), the twist was increased sales of organic meat, fruit and vegetables. Countries such as Denmark made it government policy to increase organic farming of all kinds, paying some farmers to convert their crops and stock. Denmark is now an exporter of organic crops.

This latest mad cow story probably will increase demand for even more organics.

But it's the conversation that's important. Not necessarily the conclusion. In many countries, agriculture is now a topic; people are debating all sorts of agriculture policies ranging from subsidies to how land is used.

That would be one good outcome of a mad cow scare. We could talk more about some broad -- and important -- agricultural policy.

In the end, it could be that we Americans will reach the conclusion that the risk of eating beef is small -- and that it's fine to continue with our course. But first, we need time to talk over all these matters. And, if possible, come to some definite and satisfactory conclusion. Before the subject disappears from our headlines again.

Mark Trahant is editor of the editorial page. E-mail: marktrahant@seattlepi.com

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