UPDATE 02. September 2020: The Carbon Lottery: Europe blind to potentially huge Brazilian beef carbon footprints

Special Report: One Brazilian farmer tried – and failed – to ranch more responsibly in the Amazon

Mauro Lucio Costa rides his horse along his ranch in the city of Tailandia in the state of Para, Brazil - March 17, 2020 REUTERS/Pilar Olivares

By Stephen Eisenhammer - 28. August 2020

TAILANDIA, Brazil (Reuters) - Mauro Lucio Costa wanted to do the right thing for the world’s largest rainforest.

For decades, the third-generation rancher in northern Brazil watched guiltily as his industry, feeding soaring global appetite for beef, razed ever more jungle. So, gradually he experimented with grasses and grazing techniques that today make his ranch one of the most efficient in Brazil. Costa became a model for those who believe beef can be raised profitably and sustainably – even in the Amazon.

As a so-called “finishing farm,” Costa’s ranch is the last stop cattle make in a chain that begins with breeders and often includes stays on a progression of other properties before animals are grown and ready for slaughter.

Eager to do more – and push others in the industry toward sustainability, too – Costa in 2017 decided to buy cattle only from breeders who could prove they weren’t ranching illegally cleared land. He asked a consultant to check suppliers’ farms for deforestation using satellite maps and a government list of embargoed properties.

After only a year, though, his effort failed.

Nearly half his cattle, Costa realized, came from suppliers who either had environmental violations or whose land titles and other paperwork were so questionable that he couldn’t be sure. To see his plan through, he said, he would have been unable to keep his herd populated and produce enough beef to make a profit.

Mauro Lucia Costa in his ranchouse in the city of Tailandia in the state of Para, Brazil - March 17, 2020 REUTERS/Pilar Olivares

“I can’t sabotage my business for something no one else does,” Costa told Reuters, surrounded by pastures framed by towering rainforest. A wide-brimmed Resistol hat, a souvenir from trips to Texas, shielded his face from the tropical sun. His embossed belt buckle, also Texan, shone with his name and that of his ranch – Marupiara, an indigenous term that loosely means “place of happy hunting.”

The admission, from a rancher so “green” he addressed attendees of a United Nations climate gathering last year, illustrates the hurdles to responsible development in the Amazon jungle.

Costa’s effort was entangled by snags that have long hindered order in the vast, unruly region – from lax land registries to weak law enforcement to the opaque workings of Brazil’s beef business, in which cattle, with little or no tracking by government or industry, are reared and fattened on a succession of ranches.

It can be impossible for ranchers like Costa to know for certain where their animals hail from.

In many other major producers, like the United States, cattle move around less, living longer on single ranches and subsisting more on grains and prepared feeds. But Brazil’s cattle remain mostly grass-fed, using more pasture and leading ranches to specialize in particular stages of the animals’ growth.

While Brazilian law in theory makes it a crime to raise beef on illegally cleared woodland, few mechanisms exist to help buyers identify cattle’s origins. Livestock, like money, are often laundered, passing from pastures that violate environmental laws, into the legal supply chain, and on to supermarkets and dinner tables worldwide.

“There is a huge hole in the system,” said Paulo Barreto, one of Brazil’s leading researchers on land use in the Amazon. “No meat processor can say their cattle are deforestation-free.”

The Amazon, a jungle larger than Western Europe, is a crucial natural bulwark against climate change. It’s a major source of the world’s oxygen and fresh water, its vegetation a giant filter for greenhouse gases.

Although more than 80% of the original Amazon still stands, deforestation has accelerated in recent years as loggers, soy farmers and cattle ranchers, spurred by ravenous global demand, hack and burn deeper into the rainforest.

In addition to market forces fueling the devastation, President Jair Bolsonaro, a far-right populist, has reversed policies that prevented deforestation, slashing budgets of agencies that for decades fought unauthorized clearing.

Emboldened by the changes, Brazilians last year felled and burned rainforest equivalent in size to Lebanon, the largest clearing in more than a decade. This year, data suggest deforestation and fires in the Amazon continue apace.

International outrage is mounting.

VF Corp, the U.S. company that owns apparel brands including Vans, Timberland, and The North Face, said last year it would stop buying Brazilian leather. In May, British supermarkets threatened to boycott Brazilian products. In June, a group of major European investors said it was considering divesting its Brazilian holdings, including government bonds, if Bolsonaro doesn’t change course.

He has paid little heed.

Ricardo Salles, Bolsonaro’s environment minister, in April suggested that Brazil take advantage of the world’s distraction with coronavirus to accelerate deregulation of forestry laws. “We need to make an effort,” he said in a video of a cabinet meeting, “to push everything through, change it all, simplify norms.”

Last year, after a climate conference in Madrid, he tweeted a photo of a large, rare steak, joking that he was offsetting the meeting’s carbon emissions with “a veggie lunch.” When challenged by lawmakers, environmental activists, and Brazilian media about his comments at the cabinet meeting, Salles in a statement said he had always supported deregulation “with good sense” and “within the law.”

The ministry declined a Reuters request for further comment.

Once confined largely to the rolling pastures of Brazil’s temperate south, ranchers have used genetic advances to breed cattle that better weather equatorial heat.

In recent decades, ranchers pushed into the tropics, breeding the world’s largest beef herd, now with some 215 million animals. They also became the top exporters of beef, controlling about 20% of the global export market and selling almost 2 million tons of the meat annually to countries as far afield as China, Russia and Egypt.

A handful of Brazilian multinationals, including JBS SA, Minerva SA, and Marfrig Global Foods SA, ship most of those exports. But those meatpackers, from whom major retailers buy their beef, get the meat from a large and disparate array of suppliers, from small family farms to more sophisticated ranchers like Costa.

The Brazilian industry is recognized globally for strict sanitary policies and high-quality meat, but it has struggled to comply with its own nation’s forestry laws.

In 2009, Brazilian prosecutors threatened to identify and prosecute companies buying beef from illegal pastures. The big meatpackers, in response, started using satellite imagery and data to better track suppliers.

Deforestation slowed.

But the data only showed the land farmed by the immediate seller – not pastures where cattle grazed previously. Because there is no unified system to trace cattle transfers between ranches, going further has proven impossible.

JBS, Minerva and Marfrig, publicly traded companies with operations in dozens of countries, all told Reuters they recognize the problem with so-called “indirect suppliers” and that the industry and regulators must work together to solve it.

Just before Bolsonaro was elected in 2018, Brazil’s government drafted a voluntary agreement with major meatpackers and retailers to develop a tighter monitoring mechanism. The plan, previously unreported and recently reviewed by Reuters, would have used an existing system of livestock transport permits to track cattle movement.

“The Environment Ministry commits to developing a computerized system to verify the origin of cattle and the preservation of native vegetation,” the draft said.

But the Environment Ministry shelved the project after Bolsonaro won, according to three people familiar with the decision. “It could have really made a difference,” said Juliana Simoes, one of the people and a former ministry official who led the effort.

The ministry declined to answer questions from Reuters about the aborted agreement, saying only that it “supports the concept of traceability in agriculture.”

“LAND WITHOUT MEN”

For most of its history, the Amazon was considered a “green hell,” dense and inhospitable for almost anyone besides the indigenous peoples already living there. Save for isolated settlements along the region’s many rivers, colonists and Brazil’s early governments pursued little development.

In the 1970s, Brazil’s military dictatorship decided to build roads and promote migration, through cheap loans for land, to the Amazon. “Land without men,” the government slogan went, “for men without land.”

Costa, now 55 years old, first came when his father, a rancher like Costa’s grandfather, took a government loan for a parcel in the Amazonian state of Para. At first, the family continued living in southern Brazil, traveling occasionally to Para, where a young Costa watched his father clear jungle with hired hands and chainsaws.

Mauro Lucia Costa prepares his horse at his Marupiara ranch near the city of Tailandia in the state of Para, Brazil - March 17, 2020 REUTERS/Pilar Olivares

At 17, Costa moved to Para for good, working for a while on his father’s ranch and later taking jobs at other ranches and a nearby slaughterhouse. Paragominas, the sawmill town nearby, was so violent it came to be known as “Paragobala” – “Paragobullet.” The farm had no electricity, the roads and surrounding woodland dangerous.

“I cried nearly every day,” he recalls.

Soon enough, he met a fellow rancher’s daughter. They fell in love, married and started a family.

Millions more Brazilians migrated to the Amazon. Wildcatters and squatters seized land without titles, forging deeds and other permits that still make the region a bramble of land conflicts and legal uncertainty. By the late 1980s, Amazon deforestation had become a signature issue of the modern-day environmentalist movement.

All around, Costa saw waste.

After loggers fell valuable timber, ranchers follow, plant grass and put cattle to pasture. Without the native flora, the once-rich soil dries quickly and loses nutrients. So ranchers move on.

“People just cut down more trees,” Costa said, driving past abandoned pastures near Paragominas. Deeper into the forest, he pulled near a large truck, with no license plate, stacked high with freshly cut hardwood. “All illegal,” he said.

At present, about 70% of the deforested land in the Amazon is used for cattle, according to estimates by Daniel Nepstad, a veteran ecologist of the region. The nine states that form the Brazilian Amazon account for 40% of the country’s herd. Para, a state larger than Texas and California combined, by itself accounts for about 10% of Brazil’s cattle.

Costa’s zeal for conservation came not from a love of nature, but of numbers. He keeps a large Casio calculator in his ranch office and punctuates his conversation with clicks on its keys.

In 1997, he struck out on his own, determined to find methods to avoid the wastefulness of slash-and-burn ranching. For about $190,000, he and a partner bought the land he currently ranches, near the Para town of Tailandia. A previous owner had cleared about 7% of the total plot of about 4,300 hectares, but it lay idle.

Costa planted new grasses. He fertilized the pastures and rotated cattle on a grazing schedule to optimize feeding times and grass growth. “Even a few hours can make a difference,” he said.

He currently farms about 500 hectares, roughly the size of 700 professional soccer fields. Because of a perverse irony of Amazon real estate, Costa actually leaves money on the table by not clearing the remaining 80% of his land.

Despite the ecological wealth that woodland represents, cleared land sells for multiples what virgin rainforest does because farmers find it more useful. The dynamic discourages conservation, incentivizing destruction even if fields aren’t ranched.

“Even my father-in-law thought I should cut more trees,” Costa said. “Forest doesn’t create value.”

When leftist Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva became president in 2003, he sought to tackle deforestation. His government created nature reserves, better tracked logging and forest fires, and eventually blocked financing for farmers and ranchers caught working illegally cleared land. By the time Lula finished his second term, the annual rate of deforestation had plummeted almost 75%.

Mauro Lucia Costa rides his horse acoss improved grazing grounds on his Marupiara ranch near the city of Tailandia in the state of Para, Brazil - March 17, 2020 REUTERS/Pilar Olivares

Costa, meanwhile, further improved his grazing practices. He took soil samples, analyzed land chemistry and increased the number of cattle that could graze each hectare he ranches. He also received threats, he said, from people scorning his decision to leave so much forest intact.

“I suffered a lot of bullying,” he said. “If you don’t use it, someone else will,” anonymous callers warned, a threat not easily dismissed in a region rife with squatters and murderous land disputes.

Still, his methods paid off.

Costa now ranches nearly four times as many head per hectare than the average in Brazil, according to government statistics. By that metric, if other ranchers in the Amazon became as efficient, an area the size of France could be reforested on land today grazed by cattle.

Seeking the secrets of his success, such as the seven different grasses he now grows, fellow ranchers visit Costa often, eager for a peek in the neat black ledger he carries. “He’s the best there is,” said Jordan Timo, a fellow rancher and the consultant Costa asked to help him track suppliers.

“PREACHING IN THE DESERT”

Brazil’s gains against deforestation early this century were shortlived.

A global commodities boom a decade ago fueled greater demand for beef and soy. Former President Dilma Rousseff, Lula’s successor, sought to leverage the commodities bonanza to revive big infrastructure projects in the region. She relaxed regulations on nature reserves and pursued major hydroelectric projects on Amazon tributaries.

By 2015, the boom fizzled, draining government revenues. Rousseff and her successor, Michel Temer, cut financing and stripped powers from Ibama, Brazil’s environmental agency. State and municipal authorities, squeezed by budget shortfalls of their own, struggled to fund law enforcement vital for monitoring destruction locally.

Deforestation rebounded.

After early success tracking supply, the 2009 agreement with meatpackers to better monitor ranches yielded less progress than hoped for. JBS, Minerva and Marfrig say they continue to monitor the land of their immediate suppliers. But they remain unable to track where those vendors get the animals. Smaller meatpackers, meanwhile, never signed the agreement.

Prosecutors in charge of environmental enforcement say any further crackdown, tracing beef throughout the industry, would in essence halt Brazil’s cattle business. “You would destroy the meatpacking industry,” said Ricardo Negrini, a federal prosecutor in Belem, Para’s capital. “It has to be done gradually.”

Holly Gibbs, a geographer at the University of Wisconsin who has investigated land use by Brazil’s beef industry, said only about 3% of cattle in Para and nearby states spend life on just one farm.

Ranchers have all manner of tricks to get around controls, like splitting their tracts into separate titles, enabling them to graze cattle on illegally cleared pastures but then sell those animals from seemingly legitimate land.

The industry is so opaque that even ranchers sanctioned for deforestation sell their cattle easily. Moises Berta, who ranches near the frontier town of Novo Progresso, was fined by Ibama in 2016 for illegally cleared land. He admits he cleared the tract, but said he had no other choice to make a living.

A herd of beef-cattle at the Marupiara ranch near the city of Tailandia in the state of Para, Brazil - March 17, 2020 REUTERS/Pilar Olivares

The fine means his farm shows up on lists used by major meatpackers to block vendors. Berta said he has no trouble, however, getting his beef to market via middlemen or smaller slaughterhouses. On the downside, he said, these buyers pay about 20% less than the majors. “It’s a difficult situation,” the 61-year-old told Reuters.

There are over 37,000 parcels in Amazon states that have been sanctioned by Ibama for environmental crimes. Fines are meant to blacklist areas for commercial use until owners replant cleared forest. In practice they do little more than force ranchers like Berta underground.

For the methodical Costa, the preponderance of illegal ranching thwarted his effort to ensure a clean supply.

About a third of his cattle, he calculated, came from land that has been sanctioned. Another 15% came from ranches with deeds and other paperwork that don’t jibe with public registries, making it impossible for Costa to check their land against embargo lists.

The math in his black ledger spoke clearly.

To recoup his investments in priming his pastures, Costa needs to boost his herd count from about 1,700 to 2,500 cattle each year just as the rainy season begins, usually in mid-December. The timing matters because that’s when cattle can take advantage of the sudden acceleration in grass growth brought by the rain.

If the herd is too small, some of the grass goes to waste. If he misses the window, Costa must spend yet more to buy feed. If Costa blocked cattle suppliers he knew or suspected had illegally cleared land, he realized, his herd wouldn’t reach the critical mass necessary for “as aguas,” as the rains are called.

Instead of his usual profit of roughly $85 per animal, Costa would have suffered a loss of about $50 per head. “It just wasn’t going to work,” he explained.

He abandoned the effort.

As a result, Costa himself plays an indirect role in perpetuating at least some of the illegality. He feels tethered, he said, with few options to change a system that keeps him from ranching the way he believes he should. “I feel like I’m preaching in the desert.”

Editing by Paulo Prada

Our Standards: The Thomson Reuters Trust Principles.

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The Carbon Lottery:

Europe blind to potentially huge Brazilian beef carbon footprints

By Earthsight - 02. September 2020

Credit: Toni Giddings for Earthsight

Europe’s overreliance on beef from Mato Grosso state in particular, and an absence of due diligence by both meat producers and traders, leaves Europe not only blindly complicit in Brazil’s increasing deforestation crisis but also exposed to significant levels of emissions embedded in imports.

As much as 20.8 million tonnes of Greenhouse Gasses (GHG) could have been emitted in Brazil to produce beef imported into just five European countries in 2019, equivalent to the annual climate footprint of 2.4 million EU citizens – twice the population of Brussels.

Even more conservative estimates suggest emissions could have reached as high as 2.6 to 4.9 million tonnes of CO2e (tCO2e), equivalent to the annual footprint of up to 465,000 Europeans.

The findings form part of a new Earthsight analysis, The Carbon Lottery: Estimating carbon footprints embedded in European imports of Brazilian beef, and highlight how importers must take concrete steps to source beef not linked to the highest contributing factor in the carbon intensity of beef production – deforestation.

While global GHG emissions are predicted to drop this year due to slowed economic activity following the Covid-19 pandemic, Brazil is set to contradict this trend and see a rise of between 10 and 20 per cent, mostly because of rising levels of deforestation.

Brazilian Amazon deforestation has increased every year since 2017, and by 30 per cent in 2019.  Clearances in the first six months of 2020 rose by 24 per cent compared to the same period in 2019, reaching 2,544sq km, the second largest amount in any semester since 2010. 2020 has seen the worst start of Brazil’s fire season in a decade, with burning in the Amazon biome in danger of exceeding those in 2019, which were up 85 per cent on 2018.

Deforestation accounts for nearly half of Brazil’s total GHG emissions, with agriculture and cattle ranching, activities closely linked to forest loss, accounting for a further quarter. In 2018 cattle ranching was responsible for nearly a fifth of all emissions in Brazil – if deforestation for ranching is taken into account this share rises to 45 per cent.

100,000 - 1,300,000 t (Please hover with your curser over the graph to get details.)

Calculating the carbon

Quantifying the true scale of carbon emissions tied to European imports of Brazilian beef is a major challenge. There is little evidence that producers or importers consistently verify if the beef they trade comes from cattle linked to deforestation or high-emitting, degraded pastures, while the involvement of unknown indirect suppliers remains unfettered across Brazil’s meatpacking industry.

In calculating the range of possible emissions, the research illustrates the lack of transparency in the industry and the risks importers are taking in sourcing beef from Mato Grosso and other states with high levels of deforestation.

Although Trase, a supply chain transparency platform, and past studies have estimated the carbon footprint embedded in Europe’s Brazilian beef imports, Earthsight’s analysis provides estimates on more recent trade using different methods. Earthsight’s estimates are not limited to emissions from deforestation but also includes Greenhouse Gas (GHG) emissions from the entire beef production cycle, including land use change, farm inputs, cattle ranching, herd and soil emissions, slaughtering and transportation to point of export.

The analysis builds on a recent study from Instituto Escolhas that calculated average emissions footprints for beef produced in each Brazilian state over a decade, including for different types of representative herd management systems and pasture qualities.

Instituto Escolhas estimated the national average carbon footprint of beef production, between 2008 and 2017, ranged from 25kg to 78kg CO2e (carbon emissions equivalent) per kilo of beef, depending on whether deforestation was involved. In contrast, the average CO2e per kilo of beef produced in the EU has been estimated to be around 22kg.

Earthsight’s analysis largely employed Instituto Escolhas’ state-level estimates across a range of herd management and pasture types, including state averages, and both degraded and stable pastures.

Combining the state-level average emissions estimates produced by Instituto Escolhas and Brazilian export data enabled calculations on carbon footprints embedded in shipments received by the selected countries and their importing companies.

European imports of Brazilian beef are exposed to huge deforestation and carbon emissions risk from cattle ranching. Credit: Shutterstock

Europe’s big five importing countries

Nearly all (96 per cent) beef shipped to Europe came from facilities in just five states: Mato Grosso, São Paulo, Rio Grande do Sul, Goiás, and Mato Grosso do Sul.

Mato Grosso was the largest single state supplier to the five countries, accounting for 33 per cent of the total.

The top five destination countries for beef from these five states – Italy (29,650 tonnes), UK (28,030 tonnes), Netherlands (22,084 tonnes), Spain (9,466 tonnes), and Germany (8,060 tonnes) – do not rank in the same order when assessing the carbon emissions these imports may have produced.

Imports into Italy had the highest average embedded carbon footprint – without or with deforestation – ranging from 244,440 to 1.1 million tCO2e when using state-based average emissions estimates. Italy was followed by the Netherlands (162,407 to 633,124 tCO2e), Spain (94,208 to 451,298 tCO2e), Germany (63,364 to 224,623 tCO2e) and the UK (50,031 to 152,294 tCO2e).

The combined 2.6 million tCO2e higher-estimate is equivalent to the 2018 carbon emissions of 298,148 Europeans. Exports from Mato Grosso, home to swathes of Amazon and Cerrado land and the most deforested state dominating trade to Europe, alone account for 2.2 million tCO2e, or 85 per cent.

Italy’s pole position is not only due to its large import volumes but also – and crucially – its reliance on beef from Mato Grosso, which has considerably higher average emissions estimates per kilo of beef than the other four states supplying European imports.  Nearly half of all Italian imports (14,279 tonnes) come from the state.

If all beef imported into Europe was derived solely from stable pastures (low-productivity pastures with no capacity to remove carbon from the atmosphere) in each state, the total upper-average embedded emissions (when deforestation is involved) rise to 4.9 million tCO2e – nearly double that when applying state-level averages. This is the climate footprint of 465,000 Europeans.

However, if 35 per cent of beef from Mato Grosso slaughterhouses came from cattle reared on degraded pastures (high-emitting pastures due to soil degradation and which are more closely associated with recently deforested areas) and the remainder from Mato Grosso and the other four states were estimated using the state-level averages, the total carbon footprint embedded in European imports of Brazilian beef could be as high as 20.8 million tCO2e. This is equivalent to the annual climate footprint of 2.4 million EU citizens.

This dramatic increase arises because one kilo of beef produced in Mato Grosso from cattle reared in degraded pastures associated with deforestation generates a staggering 1,695kg CO2e.

The findings show that trade volume rarely determines carbon footprints but that the origin of cattle, links to deforestation and the types of pasture are the most important factors. Importers with lower trade volumes may have disproportionately high carbon footprints because of their sourcing practices.

Company carbon footprints

As with the country level analysis, Europe’s estimated embedded emissions are dramatically concentrated in the imports of relatively few companies.

When considering estimates based on state-level averages, just two firms (Silca and JBS) account for nearly a quarter of estimated emissions, eight firms are responsible for over half, and 27 account for 80 per cent.

Some European firms have higher embedded carbon footprints than some recipient countries.

When calculated using state-level upper-average emissions, Italian firm Silca has a higher footprint (375,000 tCO2e) than Germany (224,623 tCO2e) or the UK (152,294 tCO2e). The Brazilian group JBS (221,538 tCO2e), German food conglomerate Tonnies (199,411 tCO2e), and Italian company Bervini Primo (181,660 tCO2e) also have higher embedded emissions than the UK.

Graph 2

When calculated based on all imported beef originating from cattle reared on stable pastures linked to deforestation, the estimated carbon footprints of individual companies rise considerably. By this measure, JBS’s embedded carbon emissions nearly treble, taking the firm above Silca as the importer with the highest embedded footprint.

Similarly, if JBS’s Mato Grosso imports were also all derived from degraded pasture linked to deforestation, its imports into Europe would embody emissions 22 times larger (5 million tCO2e) than under a state-level upper-average across all five states.

Some of the largest importers by weight are out of the top 10 average carbon footprints ranking. The most striking examples are Marfrig (the second largest importer by weight and among the top three meatpackers in Brazil overall), Princes (UK), and Bolton Group (Italy). These firms, while major importers, can rank lower in embedded carbon emissions because almost all of their beef is sourced from São Paulo and Rio Grande do Sul slaughterhouses.

These states have significantly lower levels of deforestation – and, therefore, lower carbon emissions from forest loss – compared to Mato Grosso, and the Cerrado states of Goiás and Mato Grosso do Sul.

However, beef shipped from southern states is unlikely free from deforestation, as part of this cattle may come from states in the Cerrado or Amazon biome.

Furthermore, Princes and Bolton are large buyers of corned beef and other types of canned meat. Exporting facilities in the south likely source part of the fresh beef they transform into these highly processed products from slaughterhouses further north that are more closely linked to ranches in the Amazon or Cerrado.

Graph 3

In addition, while companies importing exclusively or predominantly from São Paulo and Rio Grande do Sul can appear to be exposed to lower embedded emissions, if stable pastures linked to deforestation play a major role in their supply chains their emissions can dramatically rise. This is exactly what is observed with Marfrig, Princes and Bolton.

Brazil’s meatpacking giants

The strong link between deforestation and the amount of carbon embedded in beef production is worrying not only because of its environmental consequences, but also because of the levels of illegality that are likely contaminating beef supply chains. A report published earlier this year by MapBiomas showed that 99 per cent of all deforestation that took place in Brazil in 2019 was illegal.

The same Brazilian firms that slaughter cattle and export beef are also some of the top importers in Europe. This could make compliance with due diligence laws easier, since these firms would already have related data, but it could also raise questions about the reliability of such systems if firms police their own practices, especially considering these companies’ histories in Brazil.

JBS, Minerva and Marfrig, the three largest exporters and among the main importers in Europe, have been linked to illegal deforestation in the Amazon and elsewhere for years and have repeatedly come under fire for their inability to monitor their indirect suppliers.

Earthsight asked the 10 companies importing the highest volumes of beef into Europe, and several others of note, to detail the findings of carbon emissions monitoring they undertake. Only Marfrig responded. The firm provided an estimated carbon footprint for its beef ranging from 48 to 99kg CO2e/kg beef. Applying these estimates against Marfrig’s 2019 imports (10,145 tonnes) reveals a range of embedded carbon footprints significantly higher than the estimates calculated for the company using Instituto Escolhas’ values.

Marfrig said it “seeks to strengthen the relationship between producers and Marfrig by encouraging the adoption of good livestock practices, which contributes to the sustainable development of the farms and ensures safer production with less environmental impact.” The firm added that it monitors the carbon footprint of its beef production based on internationally recognised methods.

A Mafrig slaughterhouse in Mato Grosso, Brazil. Credit: Alamy

Will Europe act?

Around 25 per cent of the carbon emissions embedded in products consumed in Europe are emitted abroad. As the EU embarks on its Green New Deal and seeks to finalise the Mercosur-EU trade agreement that will dramatically increase trade with Brazil, ensuring emissions associated with European consumption are not outsourced to other countries will be critical.

To date there are no requirements on companies placing Brazilian beef (or any agricultural product from any country) on European markets to conduct due diligence into the deforestation or wider environmental impacts of those products, let alone to stop sourcing them where the impacts and risks involved are understood and deemed unacceptable.

As long as European buyers do not have appropriate due diligence systems in place they risk buying from firms linked to deforestation that generate huge climate emissions.

The EU is making positive sounds about introducing mandatory due diligence to de-link deforestation from agri-commodity consumption and moving away from the flawed voluntary corporate pledges currently in play. 

Any law must be robust enough to ensure transparency and accountability in the industry.

The UK has also recently announced its intention to pass laws requiring companies to exercise due diligence on the deforestation footprint of agricultural products used and traded in the UK, including beef. However, the model proposed appears woefully inadequate as it would apply to only illegal deforestation, would not apply to all companies importing forest risk commodities used in the UK, and weakens existing initiatives and government commitments already in place. 

Traceability systems and relevant land use data already exist in Brazil that could provide for comprehensive due diligence, but a mix of regulatory barriers and a lack of incentives have prevented them being used to full effect to de-link beef supply chains from environmental destruction.

No market signal – either within or outside of Brazil – currently exists to incentivise the joining up of existing traceability systems and capacities in Brazil. Until it does, it seems the carbon and deforestation lottery embedded in Europe’s imports of Brazilian beef will persist unabated.

For the full research findings see the pdf report

For exact figures of Graph 2 and 3 - see here: (Please point you curser on the specific dot)