In the 1870s, towns in eastern Germany had a problem. Farmers in the hills around them practiced what was called brandkultur, which depended on burning wild vegetation to fertilize the soil with the resultant ash. It also filled towns in the valleys below with smoke. The national government, aiming to modernize German agriculture, stepped in. They outlawed brandkultur, requiring that farmers instead use artificial fertilizers. But the farmers were not so keen on switching to a whole new system of farming. Brandkultur persisted.

Biochar—a form of solid carbon which can be spread on fields to sequester carbon dioxide—also depends on getting farmers to change their practices. Certainly, there are good reasons for farmers to embrace biochar. It helps soil resist compaction and retain more moisture, and it might nurture beneficial microbes. But as with fertilizer in 19th century Germany, uptake among farmers remains slow, due to supply issues, high costs, lack of strong financial incentives, and perhaps farmers' natural (and well-justified) risk-aversion.

Studying the history of biomass products and soil amendments can shed some light on how biochar might be upscaled in the future. We can look at how big changes have happened in these sectors, and how they might happen again in relation to biochar.

The story of Brazilian and American ethanol fuel is a useful case study in the politics of major new markets for surplus agricultural products. Both the United States and Brazil have at times had a problem with overproduction of staple crops (corn and sugar, respectively), which drives down prices for politically-influential farming communities. Ethanol is thus not only a way to kill two birds (agricultural overproduction and energy independence) with one stone; it also has very strong political backing. This political backing was crucial to ensure markets for ethanol and to drive government investment into the industry—both of which are things that biochar will also need. How can a biochar system build the political capital to ensure this happens?

Another useful historical analogue is compost. The modern compost industry emerged in the 1930s, but was marginalized for most of the twentieth century. Organic waste was collected in trucks along with all other kinds of waste, resulting in a compacted mix that was useless for composting. Solving these problems cost money, which made compost an expensive luxury for farmers. It took both an organic food movement and new waste management regulations prompted by a shortage of landfill space, to finally make a compost industry viable. A viable biochar system, likewise, might require changes both in how people buy food and in how industries dispose of waste products.

Surveying all three of these case studies suggests a few specific takeaways that are relevant to biochar:

• A surplus of feedstock is essential. Both ethanol and compost did not only solve farming problems; they also provided an outlet for waste or surplus materials. Biochar's feedstocks, such as farm or forestry waste, do not currently pose a waste management crisis in need of a solution.
• A reliable and established market is necessary to ensure the growth of production. This is easier said than done. Fertilizer was not widely adopted by farmers until they were pushed to adopt it by agricultural or financial crises. The compost industry industry languished for decades without a clear buyer for its product. And ethanol fuel depends on subsidies and mandatory blending standards. Ensuring a reliable market for biochar will be a challenge.
• Agricultural change tends to come all at once. Fertilizer was not adopted by farmers all by itself. It came along with tractors, pesticides, genetically modified seeds, farm consolidation, specialization, and a whole host of other changes that transformed traditional agriculture into modern agriculture. A steady market for industrial compost depended on another, smaller-scale agricultural transition to organic food. It might be difficult to simply insert biochar into existing farming practices unless it comes as part of a larger package of changes.

These histories show that popularizing a complex new system like biochar is not a simple as setting the right economic incentives and watching people respond to them. Systems of farming, waste management, and farm input production all face lock-ins, roadblocks, and feedback loops. Change is messy and contingent.

Fortunately, there are ways to deal with this. Perhaps one day, a new carbon-negative farming standard akin to organic food will lead some farmers to radically change their methods once again, incorporating biochar along with other low-carbon innovations and passing on the costs to climate-conscious consumers who are willing to pay them. At the same time, we might restrict the burning of organic waste, to provide an essential biomass feedstock to make more biochar.

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