This study rounds out what anthropologists have been telling us for years: when humans first incorporated grains into our diets, we experienced an explosion of tooth decay, tooth loss and tooth abscesses.20 We now know that grains, from einkorn and barley to maize and millet, were responsible for this marked shift in dental health, because they caused disturbances in oral microorganisms.
Insights into oral flora do not necessarily tell us what happened to bowel flora, though there is some overlap. Even though we all begin our lives with sterile gastrointestinal tracts ripe to be populated with organisms provided at birth from the vaginal canals of our mothers, many events occur during our development that lead to divergences between the organisms in our mouths and those in our bowels – such as the appearance of teeth, stomach acidification, the hormonal surge of puberty and antibiotics. Nonetheless, we can still take some lessons about human diet and bowel flora by studying . . .
The Science of Scatology
In addition to knowing that the oral flora of humans changed once we chose to consume grains, we also know that primitive humans had different bowel flora than modern humans. The ancient remains of human faeces, or coprolites, have been recovered from caves and other locations where humans congregated, ate, slept, died and, of course, moved their bowels.
Though we have to make allowances for the inevitable degeneration of faecal material over time, we can make observations on the varieties of bacterial species present in coprolites and thereby primitive human intestinal tracts. We know, for instance, that some Treponema, a species of bacteria important for digestion of fibrous foods and anti-inflammatory effects, are widely present in coprolites of pre-grain cultures but are nearly absent from modern humans.21
These observations are important because we know that abnormal conditions of the gastrointestinal tract, such as irritable bowel syndrome, peptic ulcers and ulcerative colitis, are associated with changes in bowel flora composition.22 We may uncover a connection between these changes in flora and autoimmune diseases, weight control, cancer and other conditions.
We don’t know how many of these changes are due to diet and how many are due to the diseases themselves, but we do know with certainty that the composition of human oral and bowel flora underwent changes over time. And the facts are clear: when humans began to consume the seeds of grasses, the microorganisms cohabiting our bodies changed, and they changed in ways that affect our health.
Let’s now discuss each non-wheat grain individually and explain why, like wheat, they do your health no favours.
Maybe We’ll Chew a Cud: Adaptations to Consuming the Seeds of Grasses
It would be wrong to argue that no human adaptations have evolved over the several thousand years we’ve consumed the seeds of grasses. There have indeed been several changes in the human genetic code that have developed in grain-consuming societies and that are thereby notably absent in non-agricultural native North and South American, South Pacific and Australian populations.
• Genes for increased expression of the salivary enzyme amylase, determined by the AMY1 gene, allow increased digestion of the amylopectin starches of grains.23
• The gene for haemochromatosis, a condition of excessive iron storage that increases the number of red blood cells in the bloodstream, is believed to be an adaptation to iron deficiency that developed in grain-consuming humans. Because it is a relatively recent mutation, genes for enhanced iron absorption are carried by less than 10 per cent of people of northern European descent.
• Variations in genes that determine diabetes susceptibility are believed to have evolved with the consumption of the seeds of grasses, with recent variants providing partial protection from the disease.24 Judging by the worldwide explosion of diabetes, though, these attempts at genetic adaptation are inadequate.
Yes, as a species, we are trying to adapt to a diet dominated by the seeds of grasses and their adverse health effects, but such adaptations are not enough. We haven’t had sufficient time to adapt to the many effects of prolamin proteins, lectins, and changes in oral and bowel flora, or the mental, emotional or autoimmune effects of grain consumption (all of which I discuss in later chapters). These continue at a high level across all populations that enthusiastically consume the seeds of grasses. Perhaps, in another few hundred thousand years, we will fully adapt and thrive without disease while consuming the seeds of grasses. The Homo sapiens of a grain-dominated future may chew a cud, grow some extra stomach compartments and add ‘moo’ to the dictionary.
50 Shades of Grain
This man, whom I once thought of as a romantic hero, a brave shining white knight – or the dark knight, as he said. He’s not a hero; he’s a man with serious, deep emotional flaws, and he’s dragging me into the dark.
E. L. James, Fifty Shades of Grey
All of the grains that fill the modern diet to bursting are grasses. Ground, baked, roasted, toasted and popped, they come in an astounding variety of forms, colours and flavours, as they are among the most popular ingredients in modern processed food. Who would have guessed that popcorn and pretzels are closely related, or that tortillas and Danish pastries are kissing cousins? Beneath those comforting smells and flavours, however, are buried dark secrets, undisclosed confidences and demons ready to engulf you in their embrace, enfolding your mind and body in their effects. As wheat is a grass, its bewitching effects are shared to various degrees by the seeds of other grasses.
The problems posed by the tortured relationship between wheat and humans are largely shared by other wheat-derived grains, including triticale (a cross between wheat and rye), bulgur and traditional strains of wheat such as spelt and kamut. When discussing ‘wheat’, I therefore am referring to all the closely related grains in the wheat family. Let’s consider several of the most popular non-wheat grains in all their lurid glory.
Rye
The history of rye consumption dates back to the early days of wheat consumption, when humans first experimented with consuming einkorn. Rye, another grass, grew as a weed in fields of wheat, an example of Vavilovian mimicry, or the ability of a weed to mimic a cultivated plant. This weed came to be recognized by humans as yet another seed of a grass that could be consumed, and farmers often harvested both wheat and rye with the same sickle or thresher without bothering to separate them.
Rye has gained some blessings in nutritional circles because compared with wheat, it has less potential to trigger insulin, despite identical potential for raising blood sugar.25 (To be fair, just about anything compared with Triticum aestivum, our favourite grain to bash, comes up smelling like roses.)
Rye and wheat share a high content of gliadin protein, with all its potentially toxic effects. (Rye gliadin is called secalin, although the structures are