Vertical farms nailed tiny salads, now need to feed the world

Vertical farms nailed tiny salads, now need to feed the world

Vertical farming is finally growing up. But can it move from salad garnishes for the wealthy to sustainable produce for the masses?

Credit: Ériver Hijano

Gartenfeld Island, in Berlin's western suburb of Spandau, was once the bellows of Germany's industrial revolution. It hosted Europe's first high-rise factory and, until World War II, helped make Berlin, behind London and New York, the third-largest city on Earth.

Today's Berlin is still a shell of its former self (there are over a hundred cities more populous), and the browbeaten brick buildings that now occupy Gartenfeld Island offer little in the way of grandeur. Flapping in the gloom of a grey November morning in 2020 is a sign which reads, in German, "The Last Days of Humanity".

Yet inside one of these buildings is a company perched at agriculture's avant-garde, part of the startup scene dragging Berlin back to its pioneering roots. In under eight years, Infarm has become a leader in vertical farming, an industry proponents say could help feed the world and address some of the environmental issues associated with traditional agriculture. Its staff wear not the plaid or twill of the field but the black, baggy uniform of the city's hipsters.

Infarm crop science director, Pavlos Kalaitzoglou, in his Berlin lab

Ériver Hijano

Gartenfeld Island, however, is home to something more spectacular. Here, in a former Siemens washing machine factory, stand four white, 18-metre-high "grow chambers", controlled by software and served by robots. These are the company's next generation of vertical farms: fully-automated, modular high-rises it hopes will scale the business to the next level. According to Infarm, each one of these new units uses 95 per cent less water, 99 per cent less space and 75 per cent less fertilizer than conventional land-based farming. This means higher yields, fresher produce and a smaller carbon footprint.

Agriculture is a Ł6 trillion global industry that has altered the face and lungs of the Earth for 12,000 years. But, unless we change our food systems, we'll be in trouble. By 2050, the global population will be 9.7 billion, two billion more than today. Fifty-six per cent of us live in cities; by 2050 it will be 70 per cent. If the prosperity of megastates like India and China continues to soar, and our diets remain the same, we will need to double food production without razing the Amazon to do it. That sign on Gartenfeld Island might not be so alarmist.

 Vertical farmers believe they are a part of the solution. Connected, precision systems have grown crops at hundreds of times the efficiency of soil-based agriculture. Located in or close to urban centres, they slash farm-to-table time and eliminate logistics. New tech is allowing growers to tamper with light spectra and manipulate plant biology. Critics, however, question the role of vertical farms in our food future. They are towering lunchboxes for late capitalism, they argue - producing garnishes for the rich when it is the plates of the poor we must fill. Vertical farms already make money, and heavyweights including Amazon and SoftBank are investing in various companies in the hopes of cornering a market expected to be worth almost Ł10 billion in the next five to ten years. Infarm is leading that race in Europe. It has partnered with European retailers including Aldi, Carrefour and Marks & Spencer. In 2019 it penned a deal with Kroger, America's largest supermarket chain. Venture capitalists have handed the firm a total of Ł228 million.

Not bad for a hare-brained experiment that started in a Berlin apartment.

An Infarm employee tends to a batch of seedlings in a special incubator

Ériver Hijano

In 2011, a year before he moved to Berlin, Erez Galonska went off-grid. He grew up in a village in his native Israel, but the young nation was growing too, and farms made way for buildings. Soon the village was a town, and its inhabitants ever more disconnected from their natural surroundings.

Galonska's father had studied agriculture, and the son had dreamed of recovering a connection with nature he felt he had lost. The search took him to the mountains of the Canary Islands, where he found a plot of land and got to work. He drank water from springs, drew energy from solar panels and spent long hours farming produce he then sold or bartered at local markets.

When he met his now-wife Osnat Michaeli, "I traded it for love," he says. "Love is stronger than anything." In 2012, the couple, alongside Galonska's brother Guy, who had studied Chinese medicine, moved to Berlin to work on a friend's social media project. But the hunger for self-sufficiency remained. It was "a personal quest," Michaeli says. "How we can be self-sufficient, live off the grid. Food is a big part of that journey."

We meet at a Jewish restaurant in Berlin's historic Gropius Bau art museum. It is mid-morning, and Covid-19 has cleared the tables. But a row of Infarm units whirs away quietly along one wall, producing basil, mint, wasabi rocket (a type of rocket leaf with the punchy flavour of wasabi) and other, more exotic herbs. Such produce was a pipedream for the three Infarm co-founders eight years ago. Growing crops when living on a tropical island was one thing. Doing it in a small apartment, located in the tumbledown Berlin neighbourhood of Neukölln, was quite another. Soon after moving from the Canaries, Erez Galonska typed "can you grow without soil" into Google.

Japan had taken to indoor farming in the 1970s, and this bore some helpful information on its techniques. The same was true of illegal cannabis growers, who swapped tips about hydroponics - growing with nutrient-packed water rather than soil - across subreddits.
Several trips to a DIY store later, the trio had what resembled a hydroponic farm. It was a big, chaotic Rube Goldberg machine, and it leaked everywhere. Growing wasn't simply a case of switching on the lights and waiting. Brightness, nutrients, humidity, temperature - every tweaked metric resulted in an entirely different plant. One experiment yielded a lettuce so fibrous it was like eating plastic. "We failed thousands of times," Erez Galonska says.

Two of Infarm's co-founders, Osnat Michaeli and Erez Galonska

Ériver Hijano

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Source: WIRED

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