Weather Markets: A Business Case for Environmental History

Originally posted on The Otter ~ La loutre, May 17, 2017

When Monsanto spent $1 billion in 2013 to purchase Climate Corporation, its climate data, and its algorithms for using machine learning to predict weather, everyone from farmers and insurance companies to technologists and The New Yorker concluded that agri-business believed the climate science consensus: climate change is real and its introduces real risks to business. One century earlier, another major Western agri-business (Archer-Daniels-Midland or ADM) produced their own cutting-edge weather and crop forecasts, mainly in an effort to reduce the risk of what it called “weather markets.” By investing in environmental knowledge production, these companies revealed how they understood both local environments and international climate sciences.

Figure 1: Image: Weather factory? ADM Mill in Minneapolis, c1920. Photo: Minnesota Historical Society, MH5.9 MP3.1A
Figure 1: Image: Weather factory? ADM Mill in Minneapolis, c1920. Photo: Minnesota Historical Society, MH5.9 MP3.1A

Business signals its knowledge about the environment at many scales, from local family farms to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. When Reagan-era Secretary of State, George P. Shultz, and Climate Leadership Council president, Ted Halstead, recently advanced what they call The Business Case for the Paris Climate Accord, their message was simple. Since top US businesses support the Paris climate agreement, Donald Trump should reject any claims that climate change is a hoax and he should remain at the table in Paris. They argued that he should use it to advance his global diplomatic priorities, dismantle the Obama administration’s climate regulations, and “help reduce future business risks associated with the changing climate.” Conspicuously absent from this agenda are any of the ethical and other traditional reasons for stopping runaway climate change and mitigating the harmful effects it will have on humans and the non-human environment.

And that is, of course, the point. This New York Times op-ed is part of the journal’s pivot toward legitimizing climate change perspectives from outside the broad consensus of climate scientists. The editorial board now favors conservative voices on climate like the Climate Leadership Council precisely because “it is not made up of the usual environmentalists.” Clearly, progressives support a fair consideration of multiple perspectives, and this should include different political leanings, but one troubling new approach to truth in 2017 seems to argue that scientists and other expert voices should get no more attention than anyone else’s. Unless, that is, they have popular appeal. The Times defended hiring Bret Stephens, a pariah among climatologists, partly because “millions of people … agree with him on a range of issues.”

When a group presents a “business case for [insert environmental issue here],” they are arguing that if business approves of said environmental position then the market approves, and if the market approves then the consumer approves. And the customer is always right, amiright? Joking aside, this remains one of the great questions of our time. What is the role and responsibility of business in sustainability? Some put it in the back seat, and others argue that when the interests of capitalism and environmentalism align there could be no greater consensus. This appears to be the position of the New York Times, which isn’t exactly a populist rag. The chief exception to the anti-expert policy is the chief herself – the CEO. In November 2016, US voters made a CEO the Chief-in-Chief, and now they wait to see what business will do with the Paris accord.[1]

One group that tends to avoid the business case is our own tribe of environmental historians. As a field that cares very much about the environment we are good at talking to business, but we must also learn from organization and contribute meaningful analysis of it. This is essential considering we spend so much of our time describing how human organizations (usually private enterprise) interact with the non-human environment. Conversely, business historians are often guilty of ignoring the non-human environment and human attitudes toward it. However, interdisciplinary bridges (ecotones?) have been developing between these fields, beginning with an article by Christine Meisner Rosen twenty years ago. In 1999, Rosen and Christopher Sellers edited a special issue on the environment in the Business History Review, a journal whose stated interest now includes exploring “the relation of businesses to political regimes and to the environment.”

I think this leaves us with exciting opportunities and with our work cut out for us. Environmental historians seem increasingly interested in the relationships between business and the environment in articles in Environmental History, Environment and History, and other journals. For example, Rosen reiterated her call in Environmental History in 2005, and Sam White’s 2011 excellent study of “Capitalist Pigs” argued that “we need to study the history of pigs themselves as well as the history of capitalism.”[2] Recent books and edited collections have also set out to examine the issue, including the new Histories of Capitalism and the Environment Series, edited by Bart Elmore. In his own monograph, Citizen Coke, Elmore shows how business interacted with natural resources, or in the case of Coca-Cola how they pioneered the outsourcing of those interactions to other companies. In Green Capitalism? Hartmut Berghoff and Adam Rome bring together thirteen essays on twentieth-century business that attempt to answer the question: can capitalism be green – or at least greener?

Canadians will note that most of these explicit connections between business and nature have been made in the context of urban environmental history, although some examples in northern forestry, mining, and hydroelectricity bring the business approach beyond the metropolis and into the farm and resource frontiers.[3] Recent pioneering work on mining includes Liza Piper’s work on hard rock mining in Canada’s Northwestern lakes and Jessica van Horssen’s work on Asbestos, Quebec.[4] More non-urban approaches are appearing in a new special issue of Business History edited by Andrew Smith and Kirsten Greer.[5] Canadian historians will be interested in the recently published articles on environmental knowledge in the Hudson’s Bay Company records, the Ontario cheese industry, and Alcan in Greenland. All of these studies consider ways that organizations tried to understand and manage the natural world.

The business case for environmental history argues that nature looks differently when we examine it with company records and within the context of the firm. My study of the economy of knowledge in agri-business, focuses on Archer-Daniels-Midland Linseed Company (ADM), a notoriously secretive company that started in Minneapolis and has since become one of the big five multinational firms in the agrifood sector.

The history of ADM’s response to price volatility, supply chain problems, and trade policies tells us about the way businesses understand climatology and develop environmental knowledge. Like Monsanto and the Climate Leadership Council, they were predominantly concerned with risk mitigation. But where there was risk there was profit, and the linseed oil business included some of the leading names in the chemical sector, including Lyman Brothers in Montreal, the Rockefellars’ American Linseed Oil, Sherwin Williams, and Spencer Kellogg and Sons.

As a relative newcomer, ADM found a niche by providing crop and other environmental information to the trade (Figure 2). Linseed oil companies bought flax seed and flax seed futures in a massive grassland frontier (the Northern Great Plains, the Canadian Prairies, and the Argentine Pampas) with limited knowledge of those regions’ agroecosystems and even less about their climates. Crop knowledge was extensive and growing in the late nineteenth century, but climate knowledge was limited and retreating, because of underfunding and spurious theories about solar radiation. Meteorological forecasts were only good for 48 hours, and although Farmer’s Almanacs were very popular, their forecasting methods were secretive and studies have shown that they were really no more accurate than a coin toss.

Figure 2: Archer-Daniels-Midland circulars presenting crop data (percent of extant circulars)
Figure 2: Archer-Daniels-Midland circulars presenting crop data (percent of extant circulars)

ADM realized that in the period between sowing and harvesting, the price of flax was “a weather market.” But their records show that businesses in the grain and oilseed sector created extensive knowledge networks to gather crop and some climate information in almost real time. Unlike the meteorological offices or the almanacs, ADM, was aiming for the respect of a much smaller business circle, and they therefore maximized data and minimized predictions. They mentioned US weather in about half of their circulars (less for other countries) and they predicted weather in very few of those cases (Figure 3). They were more bullish with crop forecasts, but the circulars show that they rarely reported weather forecasts. The weather that they did report was current conditions, and it was mainly in regards to the Northern Great Plains crop during the critical maturing and harvest months (June–September).

Figure 3: Archer-Daniels-Midland circulars presenting climate data (percent of extant circulars)
Figure 3: Archer-Daniels-Midland circulars presenting climate data (percent of extant circulars)

As my longer article on ADM’s response to “weather markets” outlines, the company was deeply invested in place and its business decisions were shaped in part by its longer commitment to the Northern Great Plains. Its larger role in the knowledge economy was influenced by its position on crop and climate science; the company distrusted government crop forecasts and disregarded meteorological forecasts. ADM’s respectability depended on accuracy, but as the almanacs (and recent politicians) show, you don’t need to be accurate to be popular.

[1] At the time of writing, some important signs from the US Secretary of State Rex Tillerson suggest that US intends to support the Paris agreement. Mike Blanchfield, “Freeland praises Tillerson’s work on Arctic Council climate change statement,” CBC News, May 12, 2017 <accessed May 16, 2017>

[2] Christine Meisner Rosen, “The Business-Environment Connection,” Environmental History 10 no. 1 (2005): 77-79; Sam White, “From globalized pig breeds to capitalist pigs: a study in animal cultures and evolutionary history,” Environmental History 16, no. 1 (2011): 94-120, 112.

[3] Magnus Lindmark and Ann Kristin Bergquist, “Expansion for Pollution Reduction? Environmental Adaptation of a Swedish and a Canadian Metal Smelter, 1960–2005,” Business History 50 no. 4 (2008): 530-546; Christopher Armstrong, Matthew Evenden, and Henry Vivian Nelles, The River Returns: An Environmental History of the Bow (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s Press, 2009). Business History Review’s 2016 special issue on agribusiness also contains many significant rural contributions.

[4] Liza Piper, “Subterranean Bodies: Mining the Large Lakes of North-west Canada, 1921-1960,” Environment and History (2007): 155-186; Jessica van Horssen, A Town Called Asbestos: Environmental Contamination, Health, and Resilience in a Resource Community (UBC Press, 2016).

[5] The special issue stemmed out of a 2014 meeting that enjoyed support from NiCHE and some very helpful commentary by Christine Meisner Rosen and others.

Mapping the Rural Industrial Landscape: Flax Mills in Ontario

Most people who visit small towns in Ontario tend to think of them as sleepy villages comprised of a few nice restaurants, B&Bs, and people who live there because they enjoy the sense of community and family roots. We know that these settlements exist because they were the location of a mill seat or they were situated roughly a day’s journey by horse & wagon from the nearest urban centre. These were service towns for the farming and resource communities of Ontario before motor vehicles and paved roads made it easier to access more distant cities. The mills and taverns are now replaced by upscale restaurants and boutiques; necessary infrastructure for a growing group of “rurban” residents who want to live, or spend weekends, within a couple of hours drive from their places of work.

Contestoga, Ontario, showing village buildings and flax mill and pond.
Contestoga, Ontario, c. 1900 showing village buildings and flax mill and pond. Source: Woolwich Heritage Foundation, Waterloo Historical Society.

c. 1900, photographer Oscar Stroh stood behind the Schweitzer Hotel on King Street (now Sawmill Road), Conestogo and faced northwest to take this picture of the flax mill on Glasgow Street North.  The mill is gone but the Ebel home remains. (Waterloo Region Generations)

It might seem from these preconceptions of rural and small town Ontario that they were relatively stable and static places. Sure, some services declined and local businesses could no longer satisfy all the shoppers from the surrounding area, but generally these towns changed very slowly and the streetscape remains similar to the way it was perhaps a century ago.

Actually the shape and structure of life in these towns was far from static, and in my PhD dissertation I used the case of a relatively obscure plant to demonstrate how. Flax was used for both its fibre and seed, and in Ontario where the fibre was processed by a network of small two-room flax mills it coloured the landscape with its blue flowers and brought hundreds and even thousands of labourers to the fields and mill yards to harvest and process the crop each August. But this post is about organizing historical data for small towns where change over time should be easy to track, but isn’t.

Some time ago I tried organizing my research on the industry in these towns and compiling the owners’ names and locations in a simple database. Again, I thought it should have been easy. Flax was a small industry, it was usually dominated by a single family with multiple mills, and thanks to censuses, directories, and rural newspapers there was a pretty good run of data on the owners and outputs.  But this was much more difficult than I expected.

There was a lot of hype around Canadian flax during the American Civil War, and both the production and the number of mills grew from almost zero to dozens in a few years. But every time I found a new list of growers or millers, it was significantly different from earlier lists. Both the names of owners and the location of the mills had changed. And so I attempted to map some of these changes in a historical Geographical Information System (GIS). GIS was a lot of work to learn and although it helped demonstrate where, I needed other sources to explain why there and why then?

It turns out Ontario farmers hated the risk and labour associated with growing this plant, and so millers themselves had to produce much of their own raw material in a system that was sometimes called flax factorship. I explain that in other writings, but here I want to show that it might seem like millers hated growing flax, too. The location of mills in the late 1860s was in roughly the same part of southern Ontario as it was thirty or forty years later, and aggregate census data would tell you it was, but comparing the following two maps of detailed mill locations suggests that it wasn’t.

Ontario Flax Mills 1865-1871

Ontario Flax Mills 1897-1911

Just by uploading six different databases into this Google Maps Engine Lite app (see instructions at The Geospatial Historian) we can see that the central concentration of mills was moving westward across Ontario every year between 1865 and 1911.  This was partly about the access to raw material – flax – but also about the suitability of small town business communities for incorporating flax production into the gamut of primary and secondary industries.

Flax mills were notoriously flammable, which contributed to the risk of operating a mill and the turnover in ownership over

Burning of a Zurich flax barn, 1901. From the Collection of the Huron County Museum & Historic Gaol.
Burning of a Zurich flax barn, 1901. From the Collection of the Huron County Museum & Historic Gaol.

the years.  It also contributed to their prominent place in Charles Goad’s and other Fire Insurance Plans and in another post I will show how mapping these sources helps us reconstruct the surprisingly busy and dynamic texture of small town streetscapes.

These maps show how a variety of sources may be used for determining the location of a flax mill in any given year.  For 1865 and 1869 I used business directories, but 1871 was from the industrial schedules of the manuscript census (provided by Kris Inwood at the University of Guelph) and 1897 was from the business accounts of the largest flax miller at that time, James Livingston (available at Sir Adam Beck Archives in Baden, ON). Of course, using a variety of routinely generated sources helps identify errors and anomalies in other data. The different variables inside these datasets also help show the nuances and spatial trends within an industry like flax milling. Not only was it limited to this part of Canada and shifting slightly each year, but the blue markers show concentrations within the concentration by differentiating mills with more outputs. In 1897, the Dominion Linseed Oil mill was importing almost all of the flax seed in Ontario to make oil, paint, and varnish, but clearly the mills closest to Baden were much larger flax seed producers than the new mills in Huron County (The same kinds of trends can be presented by size of workforce or other variables.)

Flax seed from Ontario mills, 1897

Not only would the aggregate census be unhelpful for the precise location of these mills, the variation between census years was often significant. Even within two or three years there was a great deal of variation in mill location. Turning off one or two layers on each map shows the places where new mills were popping up and disappearing even between census years. The 1897 map (above) suggests one reason for this. Even though there were many small new mills opening each year in Western Ontario, there were also many small mills closing. It was an extremely competitive industry. And finally, the economic infrastructure and industrial landscape of Western Ontario was well suited to emerging new businesses like flax mills, even if they were risky ventures and prone to fire and financial disasters. Mills abounded in these towns and many mills and their sources of motive power and labour could be converted into a flax mill relatively easily. Lumber mills were particularly easy to convert to flax mills, and often proprietors of one were involved in the other.

The Future of Object-ivity

This website has been dormant since the summer of 2008, due to some sudden family expansion, but now it’s time to revive historical object-ivity with updates from my travels and recent work in the flax-paint commodity chain.  A good prompt was a recent comment recieved here from a woman who found a “mastere oljeslagaren” in her family history.  Sounds mysterious, but the occupation was named something similar in North America: linseed oil crusher.  I also kept quite busy last year with conferences around Guelph and abroad, and this semester kicks off a new series of the rural history roundtable.

The roundtable is a florescent discussion of historical objects and rural history at the University of Guelph.  In the first talk of 2009, Dr. Catharine Wilson introduced the plow as an object valued for its function more than its fashioning; its main role might have been turning sod for commodity production, but it was also used to create and perpetuate rural masculinity.  Plowing matches became a celebration of a man’s physical strength and agricultural skill, and a way to teach boys what Wilson calls a gendered art form.

The series in 2007-2008 included talks by Guelph professors Dr. Doug McCalla and Dr. Susan Nance, visiting scholar and PhD candidate Claiton de Silva, and professors of history Dr. Ruth Sandwell (OISE/Toronto), Dr. Joy Parr (UWO), Dr. Royden Loewen (U Winnipeg), and finall Dr. Marvin McInnis (Queens). Continue reading “The Future of Object-ivity”

What is a flaxwife?

Yesterday I received an interesting question from someone in New York City. She came across a reference to a “flaxwife” in The Magna Carta Manifesto by Peter Linebaugh (2008), and asked if I knew what it meant.

The word is pretty rare, and I hadn’t come across it before now.  It’s not in the OED, but I notice that Words, Names, and History by Cecily Clark (1995, 66) includes it in a list of medieval English surnames based on female trades. Perhaps Linebaugh’s reference is to a rather fun Elizabethan story of community vigilantism, where a “flaxwife” and sixteen of her female friends cudgel a cozening collier (see Alexander Smith, Key Writings on Subcultures, 1535-1727, 2002, pp. 146-148).

Presumably a flaxwife was any woman who was skilled in linen making, i.e. scutching, hackling, and spinning flax, and who did it for a living. The word likely took other meanings, and may even have been connected to the word “flaxen” which meant blond or white. Thanks for the question, and I would be happy to get any suggestions for additional meanings or references.  Feel free to add a comment to this post or send me an email.