Many in this field of study rallied around this “hygiene hypothesis,” positing that the immune system is like a muscle and needs periodic exercise to be strong...
Authored by Joel Salatin: Bugs, viruses, and sickness—these maladies creep into countless conversations as people wrestle with the question: How do I strengthen my immune system?
The overriding answer from the conventional pharmaceutical and vaccine industry is that functional wellness comes from a pill, a needle, or some kind of medical treatment. As a farmer with thousands of animals and no vet bills, I can attest that the overriding conventional notion in the livestock industry is that a sick animal is apparently pharmaceutically disadvantaged.
I have a completely opposite paradigm: A sick animal testifies to my own mistakes. Maybe I chose weak seedstock. Over many decades of livestock farming, I’ve had half a dozen economically significant sickness outbreaks across various species. Every single time, the problem was my fault. Hygiene, diet, stress, discomfort, and toxins. An animal can get sick for many reasons, none of which is because it was medically deprived.
That brings me to people.
In his iconic New York Times bestseller “Guns, Germs, and Steel,” Jared Diamond explains the ascendancy of cultures that lived proximate to domestic livestock.
People groups who cultivated close relationships with domestic farm animals developed better immune systems.
Many years ago, British epidemiologist David Strachan observed that children with more older siblings had fewer allergies, suggesting that early exposure to infections offered lasting protection.
Many in this field of study rallied around this “hygiene hypothesis,” positing that the immune system is like a muscle and needs periodic exercise to be strong.
Consistent with Diamond’s overall findings, this theory is best supported by research in Finland.
Beginning a couple of decades ago, researchers in Finland began examining this “immune system as muscle” concept, comparing overall health between closely related children (cousins or siblings) who lived in different environments. The findings added substantial weight to the notion that the immune system has attributes similar to a muscle.
Children who grew up on farms and went to the barn as toddlers—and you know what a toddler does to everything on the fingers—were far more robust than their urban counterparts. A little bit of manure, dirt, and moldy hay or grain stimulated the immune system and reduced vulnerability to colds, flu, and other common childhood maladies.
Now for personal disclosure: Friends who know me know I routinely drink out of cow troughs with the cows. I do it not because I’m thirsty, but because I want a bigger variety of bugs in my microbiome. And I want some exposure to whatever unseen antagonist might be out there. The point is to exercise my immune system so that when something really serious comes along, it’s strong enough to fight it off.
Yes, I could die tomorrow. But for decades, I have gone many years without the common issues that plague most folks. That is not pride; it is humble acknowledgment that we have a fearfully and wonderfully made body that is ready to house health if we give it half a chance.
When I get on an airplane and the flight attendant stands there with a basket of antimicrobial sanitation cloths, I smile, lean over, and graciously say: “No, thank you; I really want your bugs.” That always gets a quizzical look and no doubt attendant conversations in the galley: “Do you see that weirdo over there? He wants my bugs.”
On a recent flight, a couple took seats A and B; I was in C, on the aisle. Wearing masks, they sat down and immediately brought out sanitation wipes. Meal trays, the back of the seat, and armrests—everything received a thorough wipe-down. Then she offered her rags to me, and I said: “No, thank you, ma'am, I really want to breathe in your bugs.” The mask hid what must have been a horrified countenance.
As soon as we were airborne, out came the snacks. Pringles, Twizzlers, Reese’s Pieces, soft drinks—I think they had an entire supermarket snack aisle in their bulky carry-on bag. I watched them chow down on all this junk for an hour. At hour two (it was a three-hour flight), they rang the call button. I wondered what that was all about.
“We’re having sugar issues; can you please bring us some apple juice?”
Are you kidding me?
Sterilizing everything and then consuming sugar and artificials, my overriding thought was: “And these people vote.”
Eating junk and bug paranoia are a recipe for immunological malfunction, but we see this kind of dystopian activity far too often.
Fortunately, the word seems to be getting around that muscle-equivalent immunology is real. New moms taking their toddlers to petting zoos and dirt piles appear to be the new mania in the infant wellness field. This is a healthy change and a trend that could yield many benefits.
If any savvy entrepreneurs have stayed with me in this column this long, here is my suggestion for a million-dollar business: Sell compost-and-dirt-infused permeable mats to urbanites yearning for robust immune function. It could be a subscription service where someone would come every four months and dump out the old compost and dirt and fill the mat with new material. It could be a welcome mat or perhaps even a mat you'd step on when exiting the shower to get all these goodies on your bare feet.
I’m sure someone is smart enough to figure out how to get the country to the city. To be sure, I’m not suggesting we go back to open sewers and no refrigeration. I am suggesting that humanity can become too sterile. Our multi-billion-member microbiome is not sterile, and the No. 1 measure of vibrancy is microbial diversity in the gut. You don’t need to pay me a commission for the idea; just brand it and run with it.
When we eat real food, unprocessed, we receive that microbial variety, and our immune system enjoys some exercise. As a techno-sophisticated society, we have become too sterile, and our immune systems suffer as a result. Let’s get back outside, in our gardens, in the dirt, share some bugs, and enjoy exercising our immune systems. At least go visit a farm. That’s a better approach than holding back our immune system while relying on needles and pills as a crutch to hold up the body’s atrophy, don’t you think?
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