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Fukuoka farming is super-ordinate –beyond both agriculture & hunter-gatherers.

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  • macropneuma
    Fukuoka-sensei inspired farming is super-ordinate †at once beyond (transcending) both, agriculture (western or English definition) and to merely hunt &
    Message 1 of 1 , May 7, 2008
      Fukuoka-sensei inspired farming is super-ordinate â€" at once beyond
      (transcending) both, agriculture (western or English definition) and
      to merely hunt & gather.
      To merely hunt & gather, is the literal, uninitiated person's
      meaning of so called hunter-gatherers. While in anthropology the term
      hunter-gatherers is officially defined as, and hence in most of the
      anthropological evidence is, usually practicing some minority farming
      of nature - now & historically, as far back as many tens of thousands
      of years; but forming a minority part of the diet. For example in
      Australia - Indigenous peoples here, in Amazonia, in Asia, etc..
      Anthropologists do define so called hunter-gatherers (misleadingly for
      the uninitiated public) as including some farming of nature; and often
      define agriculture, as distinct from it, as the diet containing more
      than 50% derived from 'fully' domesticated plant & animal species.
      --- In fukuoka_farming@yahoogroups.com, "macropneuma"
      <macropneuma@...> wrote:
      Jared Diamond is a physiologist and ecologist having worked
      extensively in Papua, especially on avifauna, with so called Hunter
      Gatherers, so while he's not formally an anthropologist, he's still
      renowned as a populariser of anthropological evidence. There's better
      writers than him on anthropology, and specialists in farming
      anthropology and archaeology such as Tim Denham and David R Harris. He
      even does over-simplify history in his popular books, but you can get
      a good introduction to history through anthropology from his books
      "Guns, Germs and Steel", "Collapse" recent in 2006 and he clarified
      "The worst mistake in the history of the human race" with a refinement
      and update in "The Rise and Fall of the Third Chimpanzee".
      (From: -> http://groups.yahoo.com/group/fukuoka_farming/message/7303 )

      This is now quoted here:

      Jared Diamond

      â€" UNIQUELY HUMAN â€"
      (Chapter:) TEN
      -pp. 163 - 172


      Agriculture is conventionally regarded as the human hallmark whose
      adoption made the biggest material contribution to the improvement in
      our lifestyle over that of apes. In fact, recent archaeological
      studies have made it clear that agriculture brought many of the curses
      as well as the blessings of modern civilization.


      To science, we owe dramatic changes in our smug self-image. Astronomy
      taught us that our Earth is not the centre of the universe but merely
      one of nine planets circling one of billions of stars. From biology,
      we learned that humans were not specially created by God but evolved
      along with tens of millions of other species. Now, archaeology is
      demolishing another sacred belief: that human history over the last
      million years has been a long tale of progress.
      In particular, recent discoveries suggest that the adoption of
      agriculture (plus animal husbandry), supposedly our most decisive step
      towards a better life, was actually a milestone for the worse as well
      as for the better. With agriculture came not only greatly increased
      food production and food storage, but also the gross social and sexual
      inequality, the disease and despotism, that curse modern human
      existence. Thus, among the human cultural hallmarks being discussed in
      Part Three of this book, agriculture represents in its mixed blessings
      a halfway station between our noble traits discussed in Chapters Eight
      and Nine (art and language) and our unmitigated vices, discussed in
      many of the remaining chapters (drug abuse, genocide, and
      environmental destructiveness).
      At first, the evidence for progress and against this revisionist
      interpretation will strike twentieth-century Americans and Europeans
      as irrefutable. We are better off in almost every respect than people
      of the Middle Ages, who in turn had it easier than Ice-Age cavemen,
      who were still better off than apes. If you are inclined to be
      cynical, just count our advantages. We enjoy the most abundant and
      varied food, the best tools and material goods, the longest and
      healthiest lives in human history. Most of us are safe from starvation
      and predators. We obtain most of our

      - 163-


      energy from oil and machines, not just from our sweat. What
      neo-Luddite among us would really trade the life of today for that of
      a medieval peasant, caveman, or ape?
      For most of our history, all humans had to practise a primitive
      lifestyle termed ‘hunting and gathering’: they hunted wild animals and
      gathered wild plant food. That hunter-gatherer lifestyle is often
      characterized by anthropologists as ‘nasty, brutish, and short’. Since
      no food is grown and little is stored, there is (according to this
      view) no respite from the time-consuming struggle that starts anew
      each day to find wild foods and avoid starving. Our escape from this
      misery was launched only after the end of the last Ice Age, when
      people began independently in different parts of the world to
      domesticate plants and animals (see Chapter Fourteen). The
      agricultural revolution gradually spread until today it is nearly
      universal and few tribes of hunter-gatherers survive.
      From the progressivist perspective on which I was brought up, the
      question ‘Why did almost all our hunter-gatherer ancestors adopt
      agriculture?’ is silly. Of course they adopted it because agriculture
      is an efficient way to get more food for less work. Our planted crops
      yield far more tons per acre than do wild roots and berries. Just
      imagine savage hunters, exhausted from searching for nuts and chasing
      wild animals, suddenly gazing for the first time at a fruit-laden
      orchard or a pasture full of sheep. How many milliseconds do you think
      it took those hunters to appreciate the advantages of agriculture?
      The progressivist party line goes further and credits agriculture with
      giving rise to art, the noblest flowering of the human spirit. Since
      crops can be stored, and since it takes less time to grow food in
      gardens than to find it in the jungle, agriculture gave us free time
      that hunter-gatherers never had. But free time is essential for
      creating art and enjoying it. Ultimately it was agriculture that, as
      its greatest gift, enabled us to build the Parthenon and compose the B
      Minor Mass.


      Among our major cultural hallmarks, agriculture is especially recent,
      having begun to emerge only 10,000 years ago. None of our primate
      relatives practises anything remotely resembling agriculture. For the
      most similar animal precedents, we must turn to ants, which invented
      not only plant domestication but also animal domestication.
      Plant domestication is practised by a group of several dozen related
      species of New World ants. All those ants cultivate specialized
      species of yeasts or fungi in gardens within the ants' nest. Rather
      then relying on natural soil, each gardener ant species gathers its
      own particular type of

      - 164-


      compost: some ants grow their crop on caterpillar faeces, others on
      insect corpses or dead plant material, and still others (the so-called
      leaf-cutter ants) on fresh leaves, stems, and flowers. For example,
      leaf-cutter ants clip off leaves, slice them into pieces, scrape off
      foreign fungi and bacteria, and take the pieces into underground
      nests. There the leaf fragments are crushed into moist pellets of a
      paste-like consistency, manured with ant saliva and faeces, and seeded
      with the ants' preferred species of fungus, which serves as the ants'
      main or sole food. In an operation the equivalent of weeding a garden,
      the ants continually remove any spores or threads of other fungus
      species that they may find growing on their leaf paste. When a queen
      ant goes off to found a new colony, she carries with her a starting
      culture of the precious fungus, just as human pioneers bring along
      seeds to plant.
      As for animal domestication, ants obtain a concentrated sugary
      secretion termed honeydew from diverse insects, ranging from aphids,
      caterpillars, and mealybugs to scale insects, treehoppers, and spittle
      insects. In return for the honeydew, the ants protect their ‘cows’
      from predators and parasites. Some aphids have evolved into virtually
      the insect equivalent of domestic cattle: they lack offensive
      structures of their own, excrete honeydew from their anus, and have a
      specialized anal anatomy designed to hold the droplet in place while
      an ant drinks it. To milk their cow and stimulate honeydew flow, ants
      stroke the aphid with their antennae. Some ants care for their aphids
      in the ants' nest during the cold winter, then in the spring carry the
      aphids at the correct stage of development to the correct part of the
      correct food plant. When aphids eventually develop wings and disperse
      in search of a new habitat, some lucky ones are discovered by ants and
      Obviously, we did not inherit plant and animal domestication directly
      from ants but reinvented it. Actually, ‘re-evolved’ is a better term
      than ‘reinvented’, since our early steps towards agriculture did not
      consist of conscious experimentation towards an articulated goal.
      Instead, agriculture grew from human behaviours, and from responses or
      changes in plants and animals, leading unforeseen towards
      domestication. For example, animal domestication arose partly from
      people keeping captive wild animals as pets, partly from wild animals
      learning to profit from the proximity of people (such as wolves
      following human hunters to catch crippled prey). Similarly, early
      stages of plant domestication included people harvesting wild plants
      and discarding seeds, which were thereby accidentally ‘planted’. The
      inevitable result was unconscious selection of those plant and animal
      species and individuals most useful to humans. Eventually, conscious
      selection and care followed.




      Now let’s return to the progressivist view of this agricultural
      revolution of ours. As I explained at the outset of this chapter, we
      are accustomed to assuming that the transition from the
      hunter-gatherer lifestyle to agriculture brought us health, longevity,
      security, leisure, and great art. While the case for this view seems
      overwhelming, it is hard to prove. How do you actually show that lives
      of people 10,000 years ago got better when they abandoned hunting for
      farming? Until recently, archaeologists could not test this question
      directly. Instead, they had to resort to indirect tests, whose results
      (surprisingly) failed to support the view of agriculture as an unmixed
      Here is one example of such an indirect test. If agriculture had been
      visibly such a great idea, you would expect it to have spread quickly,
      once it arose in some source area. In fact, the archaeological record
      shows that agriculture advanced across Europe at literally a snail’s
      pace: barely 1,000 yards per year! From its origins in the Near East
      around 8000 BC, agriculture crept north-westwards to reach Greece
      around 6000 BC and Britain and Scandinavia only 2,500 years later.
      That is hardly what you can call a wave of enthusiasm. As recently as
      the Nineteenth Century, all the Indians of California, now the
      fruit-basket of America, remained hunter-gatherers, even though they
      knew of agriculture through trade with farming Indians in Arizona.
      Were California Indians really blind to their self-interest? Or, could
      it instead be that they were smart enough to see, hidden beyond
      agriculture’s glittering facade, the drawbacks that ensnared the rest
      of us?
      Another indirect test of the progressivist view is to study whether
      surviving twentieth-century hunter-gatherers really are worse off than
      farmers. Scattered throughout the world, mainly in areas unsuitable
      for agriculture, several dozen groups of so-called ‘primitive people’,
      like the Kalahari Desert Bushmen, continued to live as
      hunter-gatherers in recent years. Astonishingly, it turns out that
      these hunters generally have leisure time, sleep a lot, and work no
      harder than their farming neighbours. For instance, the average time
      devoted each week to obtaining food has been reported to be only
      twelve to nineteen hours for Bushmen; how many readers of this book
      can boast of such a short working week? As one Bushman replied when
      asked why he had not emulated neighbouring tribes by adopting
      agriculture, ‘Why should we plant, when there are so many mongongo
      nuts in the world?’
      Of course, one’s belly is not filled only by finding food; the food
      also has to be processed for eating, and that can take a lot of time
      for things like mongongo nuts. It would be a mistake to swing to the
      opposite extreme from the progressivist view and to regard
      hunter-gatherers as living a life

      - 166-


      of leisure, as some anthropologists have done. However, it would also
      be a mistake to view them as working much harder than farmers.
      Compared to my physician and lawyer friends today, and to my
      shopkeeper grandparents in the early Twentieth Century,
      hunter-gatherers really do have more free time.
      While farmers concentrate on high-carbohydrate crops like rice and
      potatoes, the mixture of wild plants and animals in the diets of
      surviving hunters provides more protein and a better balance of other
      nutrients. The Bushmen’s average daily food intake is 2,140 calories
      and 93 grams of protein, considerably greater than the US RDA
      (Recommended Daily Allowance) for people of their small size but
      vigorous activity. Hunters are healthy, suffer from little disease,
      enjoy a very diverse diet, and do not experience the periodic famines
      that befall farmers dependent on few crops. It is almost inconceivable
      for Bushmen, who utilize eighty-five edible wild plants, to die of
      starvation, as did about a million Irish farmers and their families
      during the 1840s when a blight attacked potatoes, their staple crop.
      Thus, the lives of at least the surviving modern hunter-gatherers are
      not ‘nasty, brutish, and short’, even though farmers have pushed them
      into the world’s worst real-estate. Hunters of the past, who still
      occupied fertile lands, could hardly have been worse off than modern
      hunters. However, all those modern hunter societies have been affected
      by farming societies for thousands of years and do not tell us about
      the condition of hunters before the agricultural revolution. The
      progressivist view is really making a claim about the distant past:
      that the lives of people in each part of the world got better when
      they switched from hunting to farming. Archaeologists can date that
      switch by distinguishing remains of wild plants and animals from
      remains of domestic ones in prehistoric rubbish dumps. How can one
      deduce the health of the prehistoric rubbish makers, and thereby test
      directly for agriculture’s supposed blessings?

      That question has become answerable only in recent years, through the
      newly emerging science of ‘paleopathology’: looking for signs of
      disease (the science of pathology) in remains of ancient peoples (from
      the Greek word paleo meaning ‘ancient’, as in paleontology). In some
      lucky situations, the paleopathologist has almost as much material to
      study as does a pathologist. For example, archaeologists in the
      deserts of Chile found well-preserved mummies whose medical condition
      at time of death could be determined by an autopsy, just as one would
      do on a fresh corpse in a hospital today. Faeces of long-dead Indians
      who lived in dry

      - 167-


      caves in Nevada remained sufficiently well-preserved to examine for
      hookworm and other parasites.
      Usually, though, the only human remains available for
      paleo-pathologists to study are skeletons, but they still permit a
      surprising number of deductions about health. To begin with, a
      skeleton identifies its owner’s sex, and his/her weight and
      approximate age at time of death. Thus, with enough skeletons, one can
      construct mortality tables like those used by life insurance companies
      to calculate expected lifespan and risk of death at any given age.
      Paleopathologists can also calculate growth rates by measuring bones
      of people of different ages, can examine teeth for cavities (signs of
      a high-carbohydrate diet) or enamel defects (signs of a poor diet in
      childhood), and can recognize scars that many diseases such as
      anaemia, tuberculosis, leprosy, and osteoarthritis leave on bones.
      One straightforward example of what paleopathologists have learned
      from skeletons concerns historical changes in height. Many modern
      cases illustrate how improved childhood nutrition leads to taller
      adults: for instance, we stoop to pass through doorways of medieval
      castles built for a shorter, malnourished population.
      Paleopathologists studying ancient skeletons from Greece and Turkey
      found a striking parallel. The average height of hunter-gatherers in
      that region towards the end of the Ice Age was a generous 5 foot 10
      inches for men, 5 foot 6 inches for women. With the adoption of
      agriculture, height crashed, reaching by 4000 BC a low value of only 5
      foot 3 inches for men, 5 foot 1 inch for women. By classical times,
      heights were very slowly on the rise again, but modern Greeks and
      Turks have still not regained the heights of their healthy
      hunter-gatherer ancestors.
      Another example of paleopathologists at work is the study of thousands
      of American Indian skeletons excavated from burial mounds in the
      Illinois and Ohio River valleys. Corn, first domesticated in Central
      America thousands of years ago, became the basis of intensive farming
      in those valleys around 1000 AD. Until then, Indian hunter-gatherers
      had skeletons ‘so healthy it is somewhat discouraging to work with
      them’, as one paleopathologist complained. With the arrival of corn,
      Indian skeletons suddenly became interesting to study. The number of
      cavities in an average adult’s mouth jumped from less than one to
      nearly seven, and tooth loss and abscesses became rampant. Enamel
      defects in children’s milk teeth imply that pregnant and nursing
      mothers were severely undernourished. Anaemia quadrupled in frequency;
      tuberculosis became established as an epidemic disease; half the
      population suffered from yaws or syphilis; and two-thirds suffered
      from osteoarthritis and other degenerative diseases. Mortality rates
      at every age increased, with the result that only one per cent of the
      population survived past the age of fifty, as compared to five per
      cent in the golden



      days before corn. Almost one-fifth of the whole population died
      between the ages of one and four, probably because weaned toddlers
      succumbed to malnutrition and infectious diseases. Thus, corn, usually
      considered among the New World’s blessings, actually proved to be a
      public health disaster. Similar conclusions about the transition from
      hunting to farming emerge from studies of skeletons elsewhere in the
      There are at least three sets of reasons to explain these findings
      that agriculture was bad for health. Firstly, hunter-gatherers enjoyed
      a varied diet with adequate amounts of protein, vitamins, and
      minerals, while farmers obtained most of their food from starchy
      crops. In effect, the farmers gained cheap calories at the cost of
      poor nutrition. Today just three high-carbohydrate plants â€" wheat,
      rice, and corn â€" provide more than fifty per cent of the calories
      consumed by the human species.
      Secondly, because of that dependence on one or a few crops, farmers
      ran a greater risk of starvation if one food crop failed than did
      hunters. The Irish potato famine is merely one of many examples.
      Finally, most of today’s leading infectious diseases and parasites of
      mankind could not become established until after the transition to
      agriculture. These killers persist only in societies of crowded,
      malnourished, sedentary people constantly reinfected by each other and
      by their own sewage. The cholera bacterium, for example, does not
      survive for long outside the human body. It spreads from one victim to
      the next through contamination of drinking water with faeces of
      cholera patients. Measles dies out in small populations once it has
      either killed or immunized most potential hosts; only in populations
      numbering at least a few hundred thousand people can it maintain
      itself indefinitely. Such crowd epidemics could not persist in small,
      scattered bands of hunters who often shifted camp. Tuberculosis,
      leprosy, and cholera had to await the rise of farming, while smallpox,
      bubonic plague, and measles appeared only in the past few thousand
      years with the rise of cities.


      Besides malnutrition, starvation, and epidemic diseases, farming
      brought another curse to humanity - class divisions. Hunter-gatherers
      have little or no stored food, and no concentrated food sources such
      as an orchard or herd of cows. Instead, they live off the wild plants
      and animals that they obtain each day. Everybody except for infants,
      the sick, and the old joins in the search for food. Thus, there can be
      no kings, no full-time professionals, no class of social parasites who
      grow fat on food seized from others.
      Only in a farming population could contrasts between the disease-



      ridden masses and a healthy, non-producing, elite develop. Skeletons
      from Greek tombs at Mycenae around 1500 BC suggest that royals enjoyed
      a better diet than commoners, since the royal skeletons were two or
      three inches taller and had better teeth (on the average, one instead
      of six cavities or missing teeth). Among mummies from Chilean
      cemeteries around 1000 AD, the elite were distinguished not only by
      ornaments and gold hairclips, but also by a four-fold lower rate of
      bone lesions stemming from infectious diseases.
      These signs, of health differentials within local communities of
      farmers in the past appear on a global scale in the modern world. To
      most American and European readers, the argument that humanity could
      on the average be better off as hunter-gatherers than we are today
      sounds ridiculous, because most people in industrial societies today
      enjoy better health than most hunter-gatherers. However, Americans and
      Europeans are an elite in today’s world, dependent on oil and other
      materials imported from countries with large peasant populations and
      much lower health standards. If you could choose between being a
      middle-class American, a Bushman hunter, and a peasant farmer in
      Ethiopia, the first choice would undoubtedly be the healthiest one,
      but the third choice might be the least healthy.
      While giving rise to class divisions for the first time, farming may
      also have exacerbated sexual inequality already in existence. With the
      advent of agriculture, women often became beasts of burden, were
      drained by more frequent pregnancies (see below), and thus suffered
      poorer health. For example, among the Chilean mummies from 1000 AD,
      women exceeded men in osteoarthritis and in bone lesions from
      infectious diseases. In New Guinea farming communities today I often
      see women staggering under a load of vegetables and firewood while the
      men walk empty-handed. In one case I offered to pay some villagers to
      carry supplies from an airstrip to my mountain camp, and a group of
      men, women, and children volunteered. The heaviest item was a
      110-pound bag of rice, which I lashed to a pole and assigned to a team
      of four men to shoulder the pole together. When I eventually caught up
      with the villagers, the men were carrying light loads, while one small
      woman weighing less than the bag of rice was bent under it, supporting
      its weight by a cord across her temples.
      As for the claim that agriculture laid the foundations of art by
      providing us with leisure time, modern hunter-gatherers have on the
      average at least as much free time as do farmers. I grant that some
      people in industrial and farming societies enjoy more leisure than
      hunter-gatherers, at the expense of many others who support them and
      have far less leisure. Farming undoubtedly made it possible to sustain
      full-time craftsmen and artists, without whom we would not have such



      art projects as the Sistine Chapel and Cologne Cathedral. However, the
      whole emphasis on leisure time as a critical factor in explaining
      artistic differences among human societies seems to me misguided. It
      is not lack of time that prevents us today from surpassing the beauty
      of the Parthenon. While post-agricultural technological advances did
      make new art forms possible and art preservation easier, great
      paintings and sculptures on a smaller scale than that of Cologne
      Cathedral were already being produced by Cro-Magnon hunter-gatherers
      15,000 years ago. Great art was still being produced in modern times
      by hunter-gatherers such as Eskimos and Pacific Northwest Indians. In
      addition, when we count up the specialists whom society became able to
      support after the advent of agriculture, we should recall not only
      Michelangelo and Shakespeare but also standing armies of professional


      Thus, with the advent of agriculture an elite became healthier, but
      many people became worse off. Instead of the progressivist party line
      that we chose agriculture because it was good for us, a cynic might
      ask how we got trapped by agriculture despite its being such a mixed
      The answer boils down to the adage, ‘Might makes right.’ Farming could
      support far more people than hunting, whether or not it also brought
      on the average more food per mouth. (Population densities of
      hunter-gatherers are typically one person or less per square mile,
      while densities of farmers average at least ten times higher.) Partly,
      this is because an acre of field planted entirely in edible crops
      produces far more tons of food, and allows one to feed far more
      mouths, than an acre of forest with scattered edible wild plants.
      Partly, too, it is because nomadic hunter-gatherers have to keep their
      children spaced at four-year intervals by infanticide and other means,
      since a mother must carry her toddler until it is old enough to keep
      up with the adults. Because sedentary farmers do not have that
      problem, they can and do have a child every two years. Perhaps the
      main reason we find it so hard to shake off the traditional view that
      farming was unequivocally good for us is that there is no doubt that
      it meant more tons of food per acre. We forget that it also meant more
      mouths to feed, and that health and quality of life depend on the
      amount of food per mouth.
      As population densities of hunter-gatherers slowly rose at the end of
      the Ice Age, bands had to ‘choose’, whether consciously or
      unconsciously, between feeding more mouths by taking the first steps
      towards agriculture, or else finding ways to limit growth. Some bands
      adopted the former solution, unable to anticipate the evils of
      farming, and seduced

      -171 -


      by the transient abundance they enjoyed until population growth caught
      up with increased food production. Such bands outbred and then drove
      off or killed the bands that chose to remain hunter-gatherers, because
      ten malnourished farmers can still outfight one healthy hunter. It is
      not that hunter-gatherers abandoned their lifestyle, but that those
      sensible enough not to abandon it were forced out of all areas except
      ones that farmers did not want. Modern hunter-gatherers persisted only
      in scattered areas useless for agriculture, such as the Arctic,
      deserts, and some rainforests.
      At this point it is ironic to recall the common complaint that
      archaeology is an expensive luxury, concerned with the remote past,
      and offering no lessons of present relevance. Archaeologists studying
      the rise of farming have reconstructed for us a stage where we made
      one of the most crucial decisions in human history. Forced to choose
      between limiting population growth or trying to increase food
      production, we opted for the latter and ended up with starvation,
      warfare, and tyranny. The same choice faces us today, with the
      difference that we now can learn from the past.


      Hunter-gatherers practised the most successful and long-persistent
      lifestyle in the career of our species. In contrast, we are still
      struggling with the problems into which we descended with agriculture,
      and it is unclear whether we can solve them. Suppose that an
      archaeologist who had visited us from outer space were trying to
      explain human history to his fellow spacelings. The visitor might
      illustrate the results of his digs by a twenty-four-hour clock on
      which one hour of clock-time represents 100,000 years of real past
      time. If the history of the human race began at midnight, then we
      would now be almost at the end of our first day. We lived as
      hunter-gatherers for nearly the whole of that day, from midnight
      through dawn, noon, and sunset. Finally, at 11:54 pm we adopted
      agriculture. In retrospect, the decision was inevitable, and there is
      now no question of turning back. But as our second midnight
      approaches, will the present plight of African peasants gradually
      spread to engulf all of us? Or, will we somehow achieve those
      seductive blessings that we imagine behind agriculture’s glittering
      facade, and that have so far eluded us except in mixed form?

      - 172 -

      Some minority of anthopologists & archaeologists term this "Low-level
      Food Production", as led by Smith (2001), but this seems not widely
      accepted as a term, perhaps as it is not appreciative of the great
      skill and intellectual complexity involved in eating a diet from about
      250+ (ranging from about 80-500) species of plants, and many animal
      (Bruce D. Smith (2001) Low-Level Food Production. Journal of
      Archaeological Research. Volume 9, Number 1
      see -> http://www.springerlink.com/content/q771053874q82u57/ )
      Really going beyond, or transcending, this dichotomy, is available
      also in particular anthropological definitions that are becoming more
      & more widely accepted and current nowadays.
      For some examples:
      "Domesticated Landscapes: The Subsistence Ecology of Plant and
      Animal Domestication"
      John Edward Terrell(1), John P. Hart, Sibel Barut, Nicoletta
      Cellinese, Antonio Curet, Tim Denham, Chapurukha M. Kusimba, Kyle
      Latinis, Rahul Oka, Joel Palka, Mary E. D. Pohl, Kevin O. Pope,
      Patrick Ryan Williams, Helen Haines and John E. Staller

      (1) Department of Anthropology, The Field Museum, Chicago, Illinois

      Abstract: Harvesting different species as foods or raw materials
      calls for differing skills depending on the species being harvested
      and the circumstances under which they are being taken. In some
      situations and for some species, the tactics used are mainly
      behavioralâ€"that is, people adjust, or adapt, their own actions to fit
      the behavior and circumstances of the species they are taking. Under
      other circumstances and for other species, the skills and tactics used
      may call for greater environmental preparation or manipulation.
      Therefore, instead of trying to distinguish people today and in the
      past as either foragers or farmers, it makes sense to define human
      subsistence behavior as an interactive matrix of species and
      harvesting tactics, that is, as a provisions spreadsheet.

      See -> http://www.springerlink.com/content/q764r7x265062354/

      Journal: Journal of Archaeological Method and Theory
      Publisher: Springer Netherlands
      ISSN: 1072-5369 (Print) 1573-7764 (Online)
      Issue: Volume 10, Number 4 / December, 2003
      DOI: 10.1023/B:JARM.0000005510.54214.57
      Pages: 323-368

      Professor Timothy Ingold

      Chair in Social Anthropology

      BA, PhD
      Address: Department of Anthropology
      School of Social Science
      University of Aberdeen
      Aberdeen AB24 3QY
      Scotland, UK

      "The perception of the environment: essays on livelihood, dwelling and
      skill" (London : Routledge, 2000).
      (from -> http://www.abdn.ac.uk/~wap001/staff/details.php?id=tim.ingold )

      Title: FOOD for THOUGHT.
      Author: Denham, Tim
      Source: Nature Australia;
      Autumn 2005,
      Vol. 28 Issue 4,
      p50, 6p, 6c

      Abstract: Discusses the origins of agriculture in New Guinea.
      Evidences suggesting early agriculture in the country; Reasons
      behind the distinctive long-term history of New Guinea compared with
      other regions of the world where early agriculture developed
      independently; Factors that can be accounted for the primitive nature
      of New Guinean societies in comparison with other agricultural lands.

      i quoted this article in full elsewhere at:
      -> http://anthropik.com/2006/04/going-paleo-week-4/#comment-11778

      Dr. Tim Denham

      "The emergence of agriculture: a global view One World Archaeology
      2007 (recently published)
      edited by Denham, T.P. and J.P. White,
      London: Routledge.

      "Rethinking agriculture: archaeological and ethnoarchaeological
      2008 (published very recently)
      edited by Denham, T.P., J. Iriarte and L. Vrydaghs,
      London: UCL Press.


      These last two are leading, very up-to-date books, with solutions to
      these dichotomy problems from evidence from around the globe. (I'm
      reading them both atm).
      This reading will hopefully catalyse some more learning, updated
      thinking and discussion, amongst us here on this group, at this time
      when it is so quiet here in Yahoo! Fukuoka_farming.

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