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The slice-of-cake philosophy gives great comfort to one type of state planner. Instead of encouraging initiative toward more production, he says there is only so much—we must strictly control what there is. Any group ruled by this static idea will turn its back on progress and become socially reactionary. The Germans have twice let it lead them into aggressive war, although they, of all people, should have known better. One of their great historic achievements was to "stretch" the sandy acres of the Prussian plain, by good farming. As a result of good farming practices and highly skilled industry, Germany had the highest living standard of Continental Europe. Yet, obsessed by slice-of-cake thinking, it set out to conquer more "biotic potential" by war.
The soil scientists say that it simply is not true that land is static. Virgin soils vary widely in fertility and character, but once under cultivation they are subject to the will of modern man.
Soils are made of mineral particles mixed with organic matter and crawling with living organisms, from bacteria to woodchucks. These living things, especially the plants, have more influence on the character of the soil than does the rock or other material out of which the soil was formed. Generally a soil on which a certain kind of vegetation has been growing for a long time develops characteristics which are specially favorable to that sort of plant.
Plant-Formed Soil. The prize virgin soils of temperate regions are the chernozems.* They develop in dryish regions like Iowa and the Ukraine, where the climate naturally favors the growth of tall grasses. The grasses deposit a great deal of organic material in the soil, forming a dark brown, almost black layer a foot or more deep. This (and the slight rainfall) keeps soluble nutrients from leaching away.
Such soil, formed by grasses, is favorable to grasses. When man plows a chernozem, his wheat or corn thrive mightily. They are grasses, too.
In a cool, temperate region with enough rainfall to support dense forest, an entirely different type of soil develops: a podsol.† Tree roots do not bring enough lime to keep the soil from being acid, and their dead leaves form a layer of loose mold on the surface. Just below is a light-colored, often almost white layer of soil from which most of the soluble minerals have been leached by the heavy rainfall. Such a tree-formed soil is favorable for trees, but when man clears the forest and plants his grasslike wheat or corn, he gets poor crops at first.
Man, the Master of Soil. The good farmer knows what to do. He adds lime and fertilizer and grows grass or clover or alfalfa. Gradually the thin, sour forest soil turns into something like chernozem. The well-kept farms of New York State, Pennsylvania and Ohio are now far more fertile than they were when the pioneers (who so vex Vogt) first felled the forest.
Other kinds of soil can be improved, some easily, others not. Sometimes all that a "sterile" soil needs is a trifle of boron or manganese. Such "trace elements" can make all the difference between big crops and failure.
The soil men laugh at the Neo-Malthusian doctrine that man must adapt himself to soil, and live with it as helplessly as wildlife. Man is not the servant of the soil, they say. He is its master.