Down with the Flow Hive
A quick breakdown of a $2 million project
Originally published in Orbis: Advocates for the Earth in Spring 2016.
Buzzing in anticipation, a human reaches out with their cup to catch the steady stream of gold trickling out of the spout. No, we’re not talking about a tipsy frat boy taking seconds at a keg. A new apiary has been designed and it’s got one objective in mind: collect that honey. They call it the Flow Hive. Although, “honey keg” really isn’t a half-bad nickname for this contraption. It promotes a type of beekeeping estranged from actually interacting with bees. My first venture onto the Flow Hive website felt like reading an elaborate advertisement, and I closed the browser with a bad taste in my mouth. Do these people know how to keep bees? Why does this strike me as corrupt? Upon further investigation, I’m convinced their sales pitch is deceiving, it’s potentially harmful to bees, and is objectifying the species.
Flow Hive is convenient, sure. People who fear bees can now fill their jars with honey, burnt-out keepers can kick up their feet, and thus the world may be blessed with an increase of hives.
The most common hive for nearly two centuries has been the Langstroth hive. Names after its inventor, Lorenzo Lorraine Langstroth, this hive has easily movable frames in which the bees build their comb. It was revolutionary for its practicality because it opened from the top and the movable frames solved the issue of bees cementing combs to adjacent frames or the hive walls.
But the Flow Hive is the antithesis of the natural bee experience. The Flow Hive contains a plastic comb that the bees complete with their wax and then fill with honey. It’s presented as a low-stress solution to extraction because there is no “invasive” opening of hives and pulling out frames covered in agitated bees. However, there is no reason to think that the Flow Hive devices are better for the inhabitants than today’s standard Langstroth hive. Once ripe for collection, the combs of the Flow Hive are cracked in half vertically, the twinkling mass of honey pours out, and the comb is returned for the bees to finish again.
First off, the complex relationship between a bee colony and its comb has earned them the name “superorganism” by bee experts, like author of The Buzz About Bees, Jurgen Tautz. Superorganism means it is inaccurate to see two things as independent from one another, because they together make up one organism. Tautz argues for the classification of bee and comb as superorganism because the comb has been subject to evolutionary forces in the same way other organs and characteristics of the bee have. The Flow Hive claims to provide the foundations of the comb, but bees have been observed to build on plastic with great reluctance. And for good reason: it is the equivalent of transplanting an organ to a human body — one only resorts to it if necessary.
Second, the comb is truly an extension of the bee: the wax is secreted directly from the body of the insect. Once formed, the comb then plays a vital role in bee communication. This is known as the waggle dance: bees move when vibrating the comb to interact with one another. It has been argued that interference by materials (like plastic) may disrupt communication. Hindering the transmission of messages hurts colonies’ ability to effectively respond to pathogens. Flow Hive makes their apiary sound like simple beekeeping, and they are likely going to draw customers who are unprepared and perhaps unwilling to take proper care of their bees.
Third, the concern about plastic is whether or not it leaches chemicals with estrogenic activity. Studies consistently show that plastic containers contaminate the content, like baby bottles in microwaves. With plastic combs enduring the heat of summer, some keepers wonder whether toxins could reach the bees or the honey.
Fourth, natural combs are built with different parts designed for different purposes. this could be honey storage, nurseries, or pollen reserves. Depending on what parts are being used and the size of the comb cells, the well-being of the bees and the region can be monitored like a living history book. The fixed-frame design of the Flow Hive, and the Langstroth for that matter, don’t allow bees to design their hive in such a way. This is a point in favor of top-bar hives in natural beekeeping. The removable bars merely provide a structure for bees to hang their combs from.
“The Flow Hive is an emblem of the exploitative tendencies of humanity.”
My main concern with the Flow Hive is the way it turns the bee into nothing more than a machine for a product. The emphasis is on human reward and not actual consideration for nature. The Flow Hive seems like a prelude to new problems for bees — as if Colony Collapse Disorder and parasites like tracheal and varroa mites aren’t threatening the species enough.
I came across a powerful analogy that reminded readers of the days when a chicken was considered healthy if it was laying eggs. A chicken in battery cages will still lay eggs, because even traumatized birds will produce. The Flow Hive seems like a recipe for a similar revelation. That is, producing honey is not an indication of hive health. There is much to be done in bee research, and I can’t help but wonder if it would have been better if some of the $2.2 million in crowdfunding had gone to learning about bees instead of creating the Flow Hive business.
Capitalism and anthropocentrism have set the stage for trouble. This product minimizes the need for a connection with the living bees and maximizes material reward. This is part of a larger trend in society putting humans out of sync with our natural surroundings. When forced to interact with the bees, keepers have to care about how they feel because dissatisfied bees tend to sting.
