"To look at [McDonald's fries] is to appreciate that these aren't just french fries: they're Platonic ideals of french fries, the image and the food rolled into one, and available anywhere in the world for around a dollar a bag.
I wanted and fully expected to find precisely the same Platonic french fry here in Nowhere, Idaho, that I'd had countless times at home and could expect to find anytime I wanted to in Tokyo, Paris, Beijing, Moscow, even Azerbaijan or the Isle of Man. What is that, if not a control thing? — and not just on the part of McDonald's. But whatever is behind it, this expectation can't be fulfilled unless McDonald's has seen to it that millions of acres of [Russet Burbank potatoes] are planted all over the world. The global desire can't be gratified without the global monoculture, and the global monoculture now depends on technologies like genetic engineering. It just may be that we can't have the one without the other.
This alignment of global desire and technology has been a great boon for the Russet Burbank, at least in terms of sheer numbers. Has there ever been a more successful potato in the history of the world? Yet its success is a precarious thing, for this particular set of potato genes (or rather now, potato genes plus one Bt gene and one antibiotic-resistance gene, courtesy of Monsanto) has also never been more vulnerable to the vicissitudes of nature or the fecklessness of a single species: us. Whether in evolutionary terms a monoculture really represents long-term success for a species is an open question. The Lumper, Ireland's favorite potato before the famine, was once nearly as dominant as the Russet Burbank; today, its genes are as hard to find as the dodo's.
Part of the pleasure those fries gave me was how perfectly they conformed to my image and expectation of them — to the Idea of Fries in my head, that is, an idea that McDonald's has successfully planted in the heads of a few billion other people around the world. Here, then, is a whole other meaning of the word monoculture. Like the agricultural practice that goes by that name, this one too — the monoculture of global taste — is about uniformity and control. Indeed, the monocultures of the field and the monocultures of our global economy nourish each other in crucial ways. The two are complexly intertwined expressions of the same Apollonian desire, our impulse, I mean, to elevate the universal over the particular or local, the abstract over the concrete, the ideal over the real, the made over the natural. The spirit of Apollo celebrates 'the One,' Plutarch wrote, 'denying the many and abjuring multiplicity.' Against Dionysus's 'variability' and 'wantonness' he poses the power of 'uniformity [and] orderliness.' Apollo is the god, then, of monoculture, whether of plants or of people. And though Apollo has surely had many more exalted manifestations than this one, he is here, too, in every bag of McDonald's french fries."
—Michael Pollan, The Botany of Desire










