Soil Quality and Human Nutrition: It’s Complicated

A growing anxiety among our nation’s eaters centers on the decline of nutrient density in various foods. Claims that vegetables, fruits, grains, and other crops have consistently lower levels of vitamins, minerals, protein, and other essential nutrients compared to foods of decades past pepper headlines and the discourse both online and off. Some list this trend among our civilization’s great challenges. Researcher Alex Jack, for example, opened his report titled America’s Vanishing Nutrients with the following statement:

“It is time to recognize that the threats that nutritional decline pose to homeland security are as real as those we face from international terrorism, global warming, and nuclear war or accident.”

Much of the conversation, particularly among the Food as Medicine, Functional Medicine, and general granola folks, blames the apparent nutrient decline on how we treat our soil. Cheryl Long, as editor of Organic Gardening magazine, penned a letter to the Secretary of Agriculture voicing her concerns about the role of synthetic fertilizer and other farming practices in potentially causing these reductions. The perceived destruction of nutrient-magnifying soils leads some to conclude that soil-building agricultural practices might be a panacea for human health and well-being, and the propagation of those methods is not just for the benefit of ecosystems, but for public health as well.

Given this situation, I wanted to examine mechanisms rooted in the soil that might lead to these declines in nutrient density and to otherwise understand the role of agriculture in this trend.

Data dive

First off, let’s explore the sources that form the foundation of this assertion. Most of these studies, such as Dr. Donald Davis’ Changes in USDA food composition data for 43 garden crops and Dr. Anne-Marie Mayer’s Historical changes in the mineral content of fruits and vegetables, were conducted by comparing food composition tables. Nutritional scientists create these datasets by chemically breaking down a foodstuff into its constituent parts and measuring the volume of every carb, vitamin, and amino acid. This sort of data is essential to constructing nutrition labels and conducting dietary studies.

By comparing composition tables developed decades ago to those from today, we can begin to understand how nutrient contents may have changed over time. Davis, for example, documented declines in various nutrients across 43 different fruits and vegetables in the U.S., including calcium, iron, protein, and vitamin B2 (Davis et al., 2004). Similarly, Mayer showed that British produce displayed significant reductions in assorted minerals, including magnesium and potassium (Mayer, 1997), and she followed this study up to show that declines persisted to 2019 (Mayer et al., 2022). (Curiously, the densities of most assessed nutrients, including copper and magnesium, have actually increased since the publication of the 1997 study, though not all significantly). Critically, these studies do not focus on the actual mechanisms behind these declines, but simply document their existence. They may gesture to possible causes, but they do not prove that agricultural practice or land degradation are at fault.

So, if these studies fail to furnish evidence concrete evidence of an association between soil and produce nutrient declines, do we have any evidence of such a link? To investigate this further, I thought it would be helpful to go nutrient-by-nutrient to understand what their relationship with the soil is and what plausible mechanisms appear for nutrient declines.

Nutrient-by-nutrient analysis

There are two ways soils feed the nutrient contents of plant matter. Nutrients can either be drawn up directly through the roots and utilized by the plant, or various soil-provisioned inputs (such as nitrogen or water) can be manufactured into new nutrients. The latter are how carbs, fats, fiber, protein, amino acids, and vitamins are all synthesized;1 the plant sources nitrogen from fertilizer, hydrogen and oxygen from water, and carbon from photosynthesis (the only non-soil-originated input).

Among plant-synthesized nutrients, those that show some level of decline are primarily vitamins and protein.2

On its face, this is a bit strange. Over the last century or so, nitrogen and water have become very accessible to plants in most developed nations. For this class of nutrients, the only way soil would be involved in their decline is if the soil was unable to move nitrogen and water into the plant. But that’s difficult to square with the fact that we’d see other signs in general plant growth and output. But yields are as high as ever. Additionally, other compounds manufactured from these elements, like carbohydrates, are increasing as a percentage of food biomass. For vitamins and protein, a mechanism rooted in the soil doesn’t make much sense.

Mineral contents, however, have a more direct relationship with the soil. Elements like zinc or iron are directly drawn up by plant roots, not constructed from other elements. Fertilization efforts often don’t include micronutrients unless a specific deficiency is identified by an farmer or agronomist.3 So, if there’s a class of nutrients where density decline is related to soil processes, it would be minerals.

Minerals are quite embedded in the soil biosphere as well. Bacteria and fungi mediate the uptake of multiple nutrients by collecting and delivering nutrients to plant roots and by breaking down nutrients locked in soil particles and making them accessible for plants (Singh et al., 2022). So, agricultural practices that degrade microbial diversity and community structure (Bissett et al., 2011) could potentially undermine plant nutrient density by disrupting these processes; but the actual relationships between microbial communities and soil functions are unclear, and further research is needed to untangle these dynamics.

There is also some indication that general soil health can drive improved mineral assimilation. Higher rates of organic matter are associated with improved uptake of manganese and iron, but also with deficiencies in zinc (Galić et al., 2025). One pilot study comparing mineral density in wheat produced by conventional and regenerative means showed higher densities of magnesium, zinc, and molybdenum in the regeneratively grown wheat (Montgomery et al., 2022). However, other nutrients, like iron and copper, showed no difference, and nickel was more concentrated in the conventionally grown wheat. It should also be noted that there was no randomization or field-level replication with this experiment.

To summarize, minerals are the only nutrient class with a plausible soil-based mechanism for their decline. Agriculturally driven declines in organic matter and the soil biological activity, and agricultural practices like fertilizer use and monocropping, could be tied to human health and the degradation of our food’s nutritional contents.

Taking a step back

But let’s hold on for a second. While there is a logic behind this mechanism, it’s worth assessing what other culprits might be driving this trend.

The first alternate explanation is known as the dilution effect. Basically, when a plant has abundant volumes of inputs, be it more nitrogen from fertilizers, more water from irrigation, or more carbon from the burning of fossil fuel emissions, an outsized portion of this abundance gets directed towards the production of “dry matter,” such as starches, sugar, and fiber. This results in the dilution of micronutrient contents of plant tissues, even if uptake or synthesis rates remain stable (Marles, 2017). In fact, well-fertilized, conventionally raised plants sometimes take up more total micronutrients, but because of greater dry matter production, still report lower densities of minerals, as has been documented in raspberries (Hughes et al., 1979).

Causes for the dilution effect come down to two categories: agronomic practice and climate change. Concerning agronomic practice, more consistent access to nitrogen and water from fertilizer and irrigation results in greater resources to build dry matter. Greenhouse gas emissions, meanwhile, increase the concentrations of atmospheric carbon, allowing plants to produce more photosynthates and similarly build more carbohydrate-rich tissues.

The dilution effect also accounts for the fact that both vitamins and minerals are declining in concentrations, despite being obtained in different ways. If plants are investing excess resources into starchy compounds, all other substances would be subject to dilution, regardless of how they are acquired.

This process of dilution goes beyond agricultural practice and extends into crop genetics. There’s a strong association between modern, high-yielding crop varieties (that can take maximal advantage of inputs) and reduced nutrient concentrations. Genetics defines how various substances are acquired and synthesized, and often these increased resources are dedicated to carbohydrate production in high-yielding varieties (Marles, 2017). This is great for production, but does dampen nutritional quality.

Genetics as a source of nutrient decline has some robust evidence behind it. Instead of relying on nutrient composition tables, a pair of studies led by Dr. Ming-Sheng Fan drew from the Rothamsted Experimental Station, which has been conducting farm trials since 1843 and retains historic soil and wheat samples. They found that mineral concentrations within wheat remained stable from 1845 until the 1960s, when new high-yielding cultivars were introduced. Subsequently, mineral contents declined. Soil samples show that mineral contents remained stable or even increased during this period, and various statistical analyses found close associations between mineral declines and grain yield (Fan et al., 2008b; a). Crucially, fertilization had been practiced in England for decades before the introduction of these high-yielding varieties, but nutrient declines emerged only after the change in genetics.

Supporting Fan’s work, a study of various wheat varieties released between 1873 and the 1990s, all grown on the same soils with the same levels of fertilizer and irrigation, showed lower nutrient contents in newer varieties than older ones (Garvin et al., 2006). A similar evaluation of 56 historic varieties, all grown under the same soil conditions, similarly showed that higher yields were associated with lower densities (Murphy et al., 2008). These studies provide ground-truthed evidence that primary determinant of nutrient concentrations is cultivar choice.

There are small environmental factors that can modify vitamin formation pathways. Vitamin C synthesis is triggered or enhanced by environmental stress, like drought or high heat (Li et al., 2021). Agronomic practices that reduce stress, like irrigation, could thus lower the production of vitamins, though size of this effect seems fairly minor.

The preponderance of evidence indicates that more abundant access to nitrogen, water, and carbon, combined with cultivars that favor carbohydrate production and minimize protein and vitamin synthesis and mineral uptake, is producing grains and vegetables that display lower nutrient densities. The primary role of soil in this mechanism is as the medium through which some of these diluting inputs are delivered. At most, microbial processes improve the delivery of some minerals, making it the primary fulcrum where soil-building agricultural practices might be used to enhance nutrient contents.

Agricultural practices are implicated in these nutrient declines, but largely not because of their impact on soil health. The use of fertilizer and irrigation, and how this production model interacts with the physiology of high-yielding plants, results in dilution. Soil nutrient contents and delivery, by and large, are not the issue.

Interlude: Are nutrient densities even declining?

Of course, all this research is predicated on the idea that these nutritional declines are a well-evidenced issue, and there are some prescient critiques of food composition table comparisons. Not so much because the actual methods of analysis were inferior, but because of changes in sampling. Dr. Robin Marles (2017), a scientist for Health Canada, writes:

“Their data represent snapshots of nutrient content for foods available on the market at a particular time. There are changes in the genetic varieties of crops on the market over time, large ranges of variation in content of different nutrients from variety to variety of the same crop, and differences in geographic origin, season, degree of ripeness, sample sizes, sampling methods, analytical methods, statistical methods, etc.”

Food is very different between the past and present. We eat much less seasonally, and more food is imported, which influences nutritional composition. The lack of standardized historical data introduces an assortment of confounding elements that add a lot of noise to whatever patterns emerge. Studies, including non-composition table studies, point in similar directions, so there’s probably something there, but it is necessary to absorb this information in context. We have a very grainy picture of how nutrient densities change over time, and responses should acknowledge that fact. I’m confident of the trendline, but less so of any individual number.

Where do we go from here?

Having documented the proximal causes of possible declines in food nutrient density, we can now better understand what sorts of interventions are best suited to restoring historic levels of nutrient densities. (I’m not necessarily endorsing historic data as an important benchmark for the reasons outlined above, but the rest of the article will maintain that assumption for the sake of the exercise.)

First off, soil health would not be a central feature of such a program. Nutrient declines are downstream of plant physiology. Thus, plant breeding should be foregrounded as the best strategy to address this issue.

Genetically driven declines in nutrients are heavily correlated with greater yields, suggesting that, as breeders selected for more wheat seed, bigger broccoli heads, or jumbo tomatoes, plants responded by juicing the production of starchy material. Because selective pressures favored sheer output and lacked any incentive for maintaining past concentrations, nutritive contents plateaued or grew at a slower rate than carbohydrates, resulting in dilution. Crops haven’t lost the ability to take up or synthesize important nutrients, but instead lack the evolutionary pressure to maintain the machinery necessary to sustain nutrient density alongside yield increases.

Evidence suggests that we could breed high-yielding AND nutrient-dense cultivars if we dedicated the resources. An evaluation of 63 wheat varieties from the Pacific Northwest identified multiple lines that maintained contemporary yields alongside historic nutrient contents (Murphy et al., 2008),4 suggesting that these traits are not in opposition. But their repeated coexistence in several lines of wheat suggests that, if breeding programs began to track and emphasize nutrition alongside yields, we could marry the yields of today with the nutrient contents of yesteryear. This particular study was conducted by Washington State’s famous BreadLab and likely informs their focus on plant breeding as a central strategy for improving grain nutritional and flavor profiles.

As far as agricultural practices go, there are approaches we could potentially restore nutrient density in produce, but with significantly more trade-offs compared to the breeding option. Reducing applications of fertilizer and water and introducing more stress to crop fields would drive greater densities of protein and vitamins (depending on the situation), but at the expense of direct yield reductions. But, this would make fruits and vegetables more expensive and land-intensive to produce, likely increasing the costs of food. So, while we could increase the nutrient density of produce by cutting yields, the reduction in accessibility of these foods would result in a net-reduction in actual consumption among consumers.

For boosting mineral uptake, improving microbiome functioning and soil carbon contents could marginally improve mineral cycling and uptake. But even here, plant breeding approaches are likely to have a higher return on investment.

However, increasing mineral density can be as simple as including more trace elements in fertilizers, a concept known as agronomic fortification. Finland launched a pioneering program in the 1980s to boost selenium consumption by mandating that fertilizers include sodium selenate in their formulations, tripling dietary intake in just a few years (Alfthan et al., 2015). Curiously, since the mandate couldn’t be applied to manure, compost, or other natural alternatives, organic food now has much lower selenium levels than conventional foodstuffs.5 The success of this agronomic fortification, which lacked any interventions surrounding soil health, indicates that addressing mineral deficiencies may be as simple as testing for trace elements and artificially applying amendments as needed.

While these interventions could help enhance the nutritional density of food, there is one area where density loss cannot be reversed. A large force driving the dilution of crop minerals is carbon emissions, which are giving plants more photosynthates with which to produce carbohydrates that drown out minerals and vitamins in food. Unfortunately, crop improvement and fertilization cannot reverse physical changes in the atmosphere, and, short of some miraculous advancements in carbon removal technologies, it seems that we are locked in for a certain amount of dilution. We can make headway by reversing past causes of density declines, but the theoretically maximal nutrient densities of today are simply going to be lower than what was possible decades ago.

Micronutrient declines in context

Understanding the causes and intensity of these trends can be scary, especially when some writers compare them to nuclear war. Adding to the fact that some declines are functionally irreversible, it can feel like an existential threat. But placing this narrative within the wider picture of micronutrients in American diets provides good reason to lower our blood pressure.

The first is that, even though nutrient densities have declined, actual rates of documented micronutrient deficiencies in the developed world are still low, and rates of actual disease borne from low nutrient intake are even lower. Virtually no one in the U.S. gets scurvy or goes blind from lack of vitamin A.

The real issue, however, comes with micronutrient inadequacies, which are quite common in the U.S. Vitamin D, calcium, potassium, vitamin C, and iron shortfalls are especially widespread (Drake, 2018). But it’s important to understand that these inadequacies are not a death sentence or an acute crisis, but moderately increase an individuals chances of contracting various chronic illnesses, like osteoporosis or heart disease. It’s one of those “getting half of your Vitamin K increases your risk of Coronary Artery Disease by 12% (a made up number for illustrative purposes). Yes, these inadequacies degrade health and lifespans and is an important issue to address. We should invest money in research and prevention. But as it stands, it’s not a crisis, it’s a manageable problem

Additionally, numerous micronutrient deficiencies are simply not associated with diet. Iron deficiency, for instance, is often caused by heavy menstruation or pregnancy (Sholzberg et al., 2025). These causes of iron loss can’t always be remedied by dietary interventions, as rates of loss can outpace what the digestive system can absorb (Aird, 2025). Improving the iron densities of kale will not fix these issues.

Moreover, the possibility of future declines in nutrient density seem unlikely. Fertilizer applications have plateaued in both grain and produce crops, and the adoption of yield-maximizing varieties hit its ceiling decades ago (Mikkelsen and Bruulsema, 2005; Pardey and Alston, 2020; Monaco et al., 2025).6 The driving forces behind dilution, except for greenhouse gas emissions, were largely a 20th-century phenomenon, meaning the potential for future dilution would be far lower. This is evidenced by the fact that, between 2003 and 2018, micronutrient intake rates remained flat even as fruit and vegetable consumption went largely unchanged (Freedman et al., 2024), indicating that levels in food are fairly stable. I’ll also allude again to Mayer’s (2022) re-evaluation of food composition tables, which found that nutrient density changes in the early 21st century were fairly negligible compared to those seen in the mid-20th century, lending credence to the idea that the agricultural causes of these declines have largely stabilized.

It’s also essential to emphasize that, if you eat the recommended volumes of fruits, vegetables, and whole grains, barring some extenuating circumstances, you will receive adequate levels of nutrients. Despite declines in nutrient density, it is still perfectly possible to live a healthy life eating normal produce you purchase at the supermarket, be it fresh or frozen. Declines are concerning, yes, and the situation needs to be monitored. But there is no need to be concerned about one’s individual health. Follow the MyPlate guidelines and you should be good.

Finally, the most effective public health responses to micronutrient deficiencies do not lie in the soil or the field, but on our dinner plates. That fact that nobody is eating whole grains or vegetable is by far a greater driver of undernutrition than marginal changes in crop nutrient densities. A 20% drop in spinach’s magnesium is a paltry difference compared to someone not eating spinach at all. It’s perfectly possible to have a healthful diet with today’s produce; the core issue is that people are not eating nutrient-dense foods at the necessary rates. No agricultural intervention, no matter how effective, will remedy that issue, and any resources dedicated to improving the nutritional intakes of our nation’s eaters are best spent changing consumption patterns, be it through better spending on nutritional access or policy changes that better regulate the food environment.

One last note

Before I go, I wanted to finish with a note on the Food as Medicine movement more broadly.

It’s great that we are looking towards ways to improve our health baselines, and that the public is gaining a greater understanding of the importance of fiber, micronutrients, and gut health. There are some wonderful opportunities for this energy to build a food system that better nourishes society.

But we should also be cautious as we go down this road. Historically, the ideas and rhetoric of Food as Medicine have been fertile ground for grifters throughout history, from Belle Gibson, who faked a cancer diagnosis and recovery to build a brand as a lifestyle influencer, to the makers of Laetrile, a “natural” cancer cure derived from apricot pits that failed to shrink tumors but came with cyanide poisoning as a side effect. We shouldn’t abandon the idea that improved nutrition and a better food environment won’t improve one’s health, but that the movement’s ideas can easily be co-opted by dangerous people looking to enrich themselves. Food as Medicine should always be a complement to medical treatment, not a replacement, and should be piloted by scientific inquiry and strong regulations.

The dialogue around soil and nutrition is a testament to this danger. The research has indicated since 2004 that variety choice is likely the core cause of these trends, and that case has only gotten stronger in recent decades. But those facts are overlooked in many lifestyles and granola spaces, which instead promote folks trying to sell a different solution. Grifters, like the not-a-doctor-but-ancestral-nutritionist (???) Chris Kresser, speculate7 about the evil agro-industrial complex that supposedly is stealing your nutrients, and it very happy to sell you a better diet through books and consulting packages.8 There are lots of great reasons, health-related and otherwise, to eat seasonally, garden at home, buy from farmers you know, build back up our soils, and reform agricultural practices. But fearmongering around nutrient declines is not a solution. It’s marketing for their books, overpriced blueberries, supplements, or “personalized” consultations. We know the solutions, and we know the scale of the problem. This is an area where the average individual doesn’t really need to put much thought, except to maybe vote to fund public plant breeding programs. There’s no need to shop for nutrient density.

What I’m Reading, Watching, and Listening to

The American suburbs are better than you think: Yeah, as much as I hate to admit it, this makes some good points.

References

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Andrade, J.F., J. Man, J.P. Monzon, J.I. Rattalino Edreira, S. Yuan, et al. 2026. Maintenance breeding and breeding for yield potential both contribute to genetic improvement in wheat yield. Nat Commun 17(1): 2078. doi: 10.1038/s41467-026-69936-6.

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