Most vertical farms have rigorous sanitation policies because their plants, grown in absolute isolation from other organisms, have little defense against disease. Developing in their computer-optimized environments, plants are radically unprepared for the many threats the world has to throw at them. Within the closed system of industrial production, there is no reason to expect that such threats will materialize. However, the logic that enables the constant production of identical widgets does not necessarily translate to the growth and development of biologically unique organisms. In an era of increasing ecological and geopolitical instability, can we place trust in a food system structured on the assumptions of the 20th century factory?

Agroforestry and permaculture are two alternative agricultural systems that take this lesson to heart, seeing the forest, rather than the factory, as the ideal model for food production. The proponents of these systems are motivated by industrial agriculture’s flawed efforts to regulate and constrain plant potentials, rather than embrace complexity and dynamism as generative forces. Plants that grow in ‘natural’ (read: complex) systems develop very differently, and often more healthily, as the microbiome—the animal, fungal, and bacterial life found around a plant’s roots—offers protection against disease and pests, while also encouraging the uptake of nutrients and water. A helpful illustration: the fungi around a plant’s roots engage in a symbiotic transfer of nutrients at the cellular level. (More precisely, fungal hyphae trap nematodes, protecting their host plants from the pests.) These co-evolved relationships operate at a scale that we can scarcely visualize, let alone participate in. The problem has always been that complexity is, well, complex, and that farms which only mimic natural systems are hard to develop and harder to manage. How can one observe and direct a network built of diverse species of plants, bacteria, and fungi that interact in subtle and often imperceptible ways? Perhaps here’s the place where data science might be of assistance.

Joe Fassler

Returning to the original question: Why do we want our food grown by data scientists? The potential of sensor-based data collection and analysis ought not be limited by the dream of absolute control. If the sensorial potential of VF were to be used in forest settings like those imagined by agroforestry and permaculture, then farmers might be better empowered to observe and comprehend, rather than control, their crops. Using the VF apparatus in this way would not limit the potential of plant-organisms to their bare mechanics. Sensors would instead render perceptible the interactions between organisms such that farmers could design ever more open-ended ecosystems.

If the history of agriculture is that of humans coming to better understand the lives of their food-plants, VF technology offers a radical jump forward. While the farmer of the past could only read the plant’s leaves, the soil, and the rain, the farmers of the future will meld their sensorial knowledge with a mechanical sensing apparatus, ever improving their ability to attend to the needs of plants and the ecosystem. As the machine-sensors empower and extend farmers’ senses, they’ll be continually better-equipped to craft exciting and powerful ecological encounters. In maintaining the idea of food as commodity, VF in its current form fails to engage with the full potential of the plant as an evolving organism. If vertical farms wish to offer a truly utopian vision for the food system of tomorrow, the sensor-driven food forest is the model for a healthier and more resilient future.