Ethnomicrobiology: How Cultures Use the Magic of Microbes in Food, Healing, and Agriculture

When I launched IN THE CENTER LANE in July of last year, my aim was to bring to light and promote critical thinking about issues and developments in the worlds of politics, the arts, and science that ought to be top-of-mind but are too often overlooked by the media.

In my exploration of such topics, I recently discovered ethnomicrobiology. The field is a blend of microbiology, anthropology, and related scientific disciplines. It focuses on how different cultures around the world have interacted with and used microorganisms ~ like bacteria, fungi, and yeast ~ in everyday life, whether through food, traditional medicine, or farming techniques. It focuses on understanding age-old practices that could offer new answers to today’s challenges, like sustainable agriculture and antibiotic resistance. It emphasizes the critical role that traditional communities have played in conserving food, agriculture, and health systems and how that knowledge might inform how we address modern socioecological challenges.

As I learned more, it felt like discovering a hidden layer of life that’s been right under our noses and sometimes in our food. So, dear reader, let me share what I have learned in the hope that you find it as intriguing and meaningful as I have.

Fermented foods: Where science meets culture

When we think about fermented foods, we might have an American-centric notion of yogurt, beer, and pickles. But, that’s pretty limiting as different cultures have their own unique fermented foods. While people in the past didn’t know about probiotics or gut health, they understood that these foods had special qualities.

Take kimchi, for example. This spicy, fermented cabbage dish from Korea is a culinary staple and a source of pride. While families pass down their unique recipes, behind the scenes, a community of lactic acid bacteria works its magic. These “good” bacteria not only give kimchi its tangy flavor but also aid digestion and boost the immune system. While people may not have known the scientific reasons, they understood that kimchi made them feel better.

Then there’s injera, the spongy flatbread at the heart of Ethiopian cuisine. Made from fermented teff flour, it has a slightly sour taste and a unique texture perfect for scooping savory stews. The fermentation process, involving wild yeast and lactic acid bacteria, breaks down the flour and enhances its nutritional value. It’s the product of generations of culinary tradition and microbial activity.

In Japan, natto is a traditional dish made from fermented soybeans. It has a sticky texture and strong flavor, which can be an acquired taste. The fermentation process involves the bacterium Bacillus subtilis, which breaks down the soybeans, making them easier to digest and increasing their nutritional value. Natto is particularly known for its high levels of vitamin K2 and beneficial enzymes that support digestive and cardiovascular health. It has been a staple in Japanese cuisine for centuries, valued for both its flavor and health benefits.

Sauerkraut, which means "sour cabbage" in German, is a fermented cabbage dish that originated in Central and Eastern Europe. The process involves natural lactic acid fermentation, where the sugars in the cabbage are converted into lactic acid by lactic acid bacteria. This not only preserves the cabbage but also enhances its nutritional value by providing probiotics that support gut health. Sauerkraut has been a traditional food for centuries, valued for its long shelf life and its ability to boost the immune system during the winter months.

Microbes in traditional medicine: Ancient wisdom meets modern science

I’ve learned as well that the magic isn’t reserved only for food. In many cultures, microorganisms play crucial roles in traditional healing practices.

Take ayurveda, the ancient system of medicine from India. One lesser-known practice involves using “old ghee,” clarified butter fermented for years.

Ayurvedic practitioners believe aging enhances its healing properties, and today, researchers have discovered that fermentation changes ghee’s chemical composition and gives it unique medicinal qualities.

In South America, indigenous people in the Amazon, including the Yanomami and Quechua, utilize clay for its healing and detoxifying properties, particularly during pregnancy and periods of illness. This may sound strange, but some clays contain natural antibiotic properties that reveal the beneficial interactions between microbes and minerals in the clay.

In Central Asian cultures, fermented mare’s milk, known as kumis, has long been used for its medicinal properties. The fermentation process introduces beneficial lactic acid bacteria that are believed to aid digestion, strengthen the immune system, and improve overall health. People in regions like Mongolia and Kazakhstan have traditionally consumed kumis to recover from illness, and modern research supports its probiotic benefits, which may help in balancing gut microbiota.

Tempeh, a traditional Indonesian fermented soybean product, isn’t just a protein source; it also has roots in traditional medicine. The fermentation process, involving the fungus Rhizopus oligosporus, enriches the soybeans with beneficial nutrients and makes them easier to digest. In some regions, tempeh has been used in folk medicine as a remedy for digestive issues and for boosting energy, suggesting an awareness of the health-promoting properties of fermented foods long before the concept of probiotics became mainstream.

Farming with microbes

Ethnomicrobiology extends beyond food and medicine; it also speaks to how people work with the land.

Take the milpa system in Mesoamerica, where farmers grow corn, beans, and squash together. This system creates a natural balance in the soil’s microbial community, enriching it without synthetic fertilizers. Essentially, it’s nature’s original soil microbiome management system. In other words, it’s not just dirt!

Or consider the Sámi people of Northern Europe, who have been feeding reindeer with lichen during harsh winters. This lichen isn’t just any plant; it harbors microorganisms that help break down complex carbohydrates, making it easier for reindeer to digest. While the Sámi may not have had tools to observe these microbes directly, they understood the benefits through the health of their herds.

In traditional Japanese rice farming, a small aquatic fern called Azolla has been used for centuries as a natural fertilizer. Azolla has a symbiotic relationship with a nitrogen-fixing cyanobacterium called Anabaena. This partnership allows the plant to enrich the soil with nitrogen, benefiting the rice crop. Farmers have long recognized that growing Azolla in rice paddies improves the yield without the need for synthetic fertilizers. The practice highlights a deep understanding of soil and water microbiology passed down through generations.

Indigenous people of the Amazon developed a technique to create extremely fertile soils known as "terra preta" by adding biochar, a type of charcoal produced by burning organic matter under low oxygen conditions. This process not only enriches the soil with nutrients but also encourages a thriving community of beneficial microorganisms. The microbial interactions with biochar enhance soil fertility and create long-lasting, nutrient-rich agricultural land. This traditional knowledge reflects a sophisticated approach to managing soil microbiomes for sustainable farming.

The underground connection: Fungi, plants, and cultural wisdom

When we think of microorganisms, we often picture bacteria or yeast. But fungi also play a crucial role, especially underground, where they form mycorrhizal networks. These fungal networks connect the roots of plants and trees, allowing them to share nutrients, water, and chemical signals—much like an underground internet. If you’ve ever watched the documentary Fantastic Fungi about the medicinal world of mycelium, you know what I’m talking about. The film is a fascinating time-lapse journey into the vast underground network of cells that has shared nutrients and formed connections for billions of years, breaking down decaying matter and transforming it into living soil.

This phenomenon has a fascinating overlap with ethnomicrobiology. Some indigenous communities have long recognized the importance of fungi in sustaining healthy ecosystems. For example, certain cultures in the Pacific Northwest practice traditional forestry methods that minimize soil disruption, allowing natural fungal networks to thrive. While these practices may not use the term "mycorrhizal networks," the underlying cultural wisdom aligns with what modern science has uncovered.

In other regions, traditional agricultural practices enhance beneficial fungi in the soil. For instance, in parts of Central and South America, indigenous farming methods create conditions for mycorrhizal fungi to thrive, boosting nutrient exchange between plants. These practices demonstrate a sophisticated understanding of microbial ecology that ethnomicrobiology seeks to highlight.

Clearly, the intersection between disciplines reveals how traditional cultural practices and modern science can complement each other. While mycology studies these networks scientifically, ethnomicrobiology highlights the cultural insights that have recognized and utilized fungi’s power in natural systems for generations.

Why Should We Care About This?

Okay, so you might be thinking, “Cool, but why does any of this matter to me?”

Well, my sense is that, by understanding how different cultures have interacted with microorganisms, we’re not just taking a history lesson; we’re opening the door to new ways of thinking about modern problems.

For example, remember how I referred to people using clays with natural antibiotic properties? In an age of antibiotic resistance, traditional knowledge could guide us toward alternative treatments. We might find the next big natural remedy from age-old practices that have quietly done their job for centuries

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When it comes to food security, we come to understand that fermented foods are more than just trendy; they’re a natural way to preserve food without artificial preservatives. Plus, the probiotics in fermented foods link to better gut health, influencing everything from digestion to mood.

Ethnomicrobiology reveals opportunities that can enhance sustainable agriculture. Consider that modern farming often disrupts the natural balance of soil microbes, leading to soil degradation and reduced crop yields. Practices like the milpa system show us how to farm in harmony with the soil’s microbial community.

Ethnomicrobiology also reminds us that traditional knowledge has value. It’s easy to dismiss ancient practices as outdated, but they have stood the test of time for a reason. There’s something exciting about the idea that the next big scientific breakthrough could emerge from learning about centuries-old traditions.

Key proponents of ethnomicrobiology

As I delved into this fascinating intersection of culture and microorganisms, I learned about several scholars who have significantly contributed to the field of ethnomicrobiology. These figures illuminate how different cultures interact with microorganisms in various contexts, from food production to traditional healing practices.

Gary Paul Nabhan is a Tucson-based ethnobotanist and agroecologist who explores the relationship between culture, ecology, and traditional knowledge. His studies highlight how communities utilize microbial processes through traditional farming and fermentation. His works, such as Where Our Food Comes From and Chile, Clove, and Cardamom, remind us that indigenous knowledge about plants often encompasses an understanding of the microbes that support them.

Lynn Margulis, in her book Symbiosis in Cell Evolution, made significant contributions to our understanding of symbiotic relationships in nature, particularly through her research on endosymbiosis. Her insights provide a biological foundation for understanding the intricate connections between microorganisms and other life forms.

Anna Tsing, an anthropologist, explores the cultural and ecological significance of fungi in The Mushroom at the End of the World. Tsing highlights the interconnectedness of human and non-human lives, emphasizing the role fungi play in these relationships.

Robin Wall Kimmerer, a botanist and member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, combines scientific understanding with traditional ecological knowledge in Braiding Sweetgrass. Her work addresses the role of fungi and microorganisms in indigenous knowledge systems, showing how these relationships inform sustainable practices.

Paul Stamets, primarily a mycologist, explores the cultural uses of fungi in traditional medicine and agriculture. His research in Mycelium Running aligns closely with ethnomicrobiology, especially regarding the ecological roles fungi play.

Each of these scholars provides valuable insights into how cultural practices surrounding microorganisms can inform modern science and sustainable practices. By understanding the intersections of traditional knowledge and microbial life, we can better appreciate how different cultures harness the power of microbes in their everyday lives.

The bottom line: The invisible world we’re starting to see

So, there you have it!

Ethnomicrobiology is much more than a complicated word.

It’s a new way of understanding something that’s been part of human life for millennia. It connects the past with the future, showing us that ancient wisdom isn’t just something to admire; it can guide us forward. Whether we’re talking about the foods we eat, the medicines we use, or the ways we care for our land, microbes have played their part all along.

The next time you enjoy yogurt or a glass of kombucha, remember you’re part of a much bigger story ~ one that has been unfolding across cultures for thousands of years, thanks to the invisible but powerful world of microorganisms. And now, with ethnomicrobiology, we’re finally starting to understand just how significant these tiny life forms have been in shaping human history.