By Patricio Segura
It's the classic economies of scale dilemma: the more you produce, the cheaper each unit becomes as fixed costs are spread out. Put simply, of course. It is so simple that it does not consider the limits of nature.
This is what happens with intensive monoculture agriculture. It is developed on dead or diseased soil, which only functions as a useful substrate thanks to the artificialization of life: chemicals in fertilizers, glyphosate for pests. Pests that, it must be said, are more prevalent due to the imbalance caused by treating ecosystems like an endless factory.
“The practice of monoculture and the prolonged use of chemical fertilizers, among other factors, caused the soil to become acidic and poor,” says a recent report by the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) on the current agroecological transformation of certain sectors in Kenya, where sugar cane was previously grown on a massive scale.
More than 60 years ago, Rachel Carson, in her book Silent Spring, denounced how DDT, a pesticide widely used at the time, had long-term effects on ecosystems, contaminating water, soil, and air, and affecting people's health.
The campaign against her was strong, coming from transnational chemical companies such as Dupont and Velsicol, and even from the scientific community. They described her as “an unmarried novelist, uninformed and outside the institutional framework of knowledge production and, therefore, incapable of understanding the ‘fundamental’ role of pesticides in the country's economic development” (a familiar story?), recalls Professor Romy Hecht in the article “Rachel Carson and her attack on verdolatry.”
Despite the counteroffensive, her revelations led to the systematic banning of this pesticide around the world. In 1984, it was Pinochet's Chile's turn: the Ministry of Agriculture published Resolution 639, which banned “the import, manufacture, sale, distribution, and use of the pesticide DDT.”
Some of us still remember the protests in 2012 in Freirina over the foul odors and practices of an Agrosuper pig farm, which affected the quality of life of the surrounding populations. Due to the environmental and social impact, the plant was closed a few months later.
In an era where sustainability is a key theme at events, it is important to question this concept in gastronomy. Even more so when, at this point, people boldly talk about “sustainable mining” or “green hydrogen.” Take the aquaculture industry, for example, with its attempts to greenwash salmon. One thing is clear: this species is not to blame for anything. Least of all for ending up in our rivers and seas from the Northern Hemisphere, where it originates.
But that is not the most complex issue. Because exotic species exist everywhere: lettuce, apple trees, trout, hares, rosehip. Some are more destabilizing to endemic ecosystems than others. They are already established species, so using them as food may even be part of controlling them.
In the specific case of salmon, the complexity lies in their location and scale.
Can we talk about sustainability when nearly one-third of the industry's concessions are in areas of the sea that should be protected? Is it possible to feel proud when ordering a dish of fish farmed in Laguna San Rafael National Park, the Estero de Quitralco Nature Sanctuary, or the Las Guaitecas or Kawésqar national reserves? In an ideal world, the answer would be no. Let's face it: When you eat salmon in Chile, it most likely comes from a national park or reserve.
But that's not all. The industry has generally produced much more than it is authorized to. Hundreds of thousands of tons have been farmed illegally over the years.
It has been proven that salmon overproduction reduces oxygen in the areas where the activity takes place, due to the concentration of organic matter on the seabed from the accumulation of feces, uneaten food, and the decomposition of dead fish. This affects other endemic species that are part of traditional fisheries and require certain levels of oxygen to survive. As a result, barren seabeds are created.
And what can be said about the enormous use of antibiotics? This week it was announced that Russia has banned the entry of products from seven salmon farms operating in Chile due to “the presence of antibiotics in farmed salmon.” These companies are Salmones Blumar, Cermaq Chile, Exportadora Los Fiordos, Crustáceos Sur, Salmones Camanchaca, Pesquera Torres del Paine, and Álvarez y Álvarez, four of which have concessions in protected areas.
Cooke Aquaculture promotes its “organic salmon” from Patagonia, stating that it seeks to deliver “sustainable, high-quality marine products.” Today, it has concessions within Laguna San Rafael National Park.
Chilean company Blumar, meanwhile, launched its “regenerative aquaculture” initiative in 2025, which seeks to “strengthen the resilience of its supply, such as the use of seaweed to regenerate nutrients in its aquaculture farms.” The company has one concession within Isla Magdalena National Park, six in Kawésqar National Reserve, and 27 within Las Guaitecas National Reserve.
And in its production policies, Norway's Mowi says “caring for the welfare of fish” is part of its “ethical responsibility.” In Chile, the corporation has 160 salmon farming concessions, including 35 in the Las Guaitecas National Reserve and others in the Quitralco Nature Sanctuary, where overproduction, which is nothing more than animal overcrowding, has been observed.
All these companies, along with many others, are facing sanctions from the Superintendency of the Environment for environmental violations.
Salmon cuisine may exist. But to call it sustainable, there is still a long way to go.
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