Farmers are not the only people whose businesses have ups and downs; there is no reason why they should get special treatment. The new law shifts away from direct payments, by which farmers received cheques for doing nothing very much, towards an insurance model, where farmers get paid if crops fail or prices fall too far. This sounds reasonable, but the insurance schemes lock in high prices when farming is profitable, as it is at the moment: since 2008 the value of farm assets has increased by half, says the Congressional Research Service.Crop insurance is a very strange program, indeed. I have no idea why the government pays insurance companies to handle administration. They take almost no risk, and they rake in tons of money. One good argument against crop insurance I saw this week that I hadn't previously seen was that the reduced risk provided by the subsidized insurance allowed the biggest farms to get even bigger. In the end, the Farm Bill is a very large pork program, with food assistance for the poor buying enough votes to subsidize the richest folks in rural areas.
Crop insurance has two other defects. The first is that while the risk of crop failure or low prices is largely underwritten by taxpayers, the policies are provided by insurance companies, so, in effect, they enjoy a subsidy too. Calculations by Vincent Smith of Montana State University found that between 2005 and 2009 for every dollar in crop insurance that went to farmers, $1.44 went to insurance companies. The second problem is that crop-insurance payments are skewed towards wealthier farmers. The Environmental Working Group, which campaigns against wasteful farm spending, calculates that more than 10,000 policyholders received over $100,000 from crop-insurance subsidies in 2011. The new bill tries to cap the amount that any one farmer can receive; but if the weather is bad, it could lead to higher payouts than planned.
One thing from this article is clear, though, and that is that The Economist really doesn't understand how farmers see themselves, and how most other folks in rural areas see farmers. Farmers, like CEOs and Wall Street bankers, really get their panties in a wad if people aren't kissing their asses and telling them that they are what makes America great. I saw an editorial posted on Facebook yesterday (by a really good friend) written by a Missouri Farm Bureau hack and it made me laugh. It was titled "Farming deserves more respect," which in itself is ridiculous, but it showed just how thin-skinned Big Ag is:
This spring will be the 65th time my dad has planted corn on the field, where I learned to plow. Dad remembers everything; two thirds of a century of experience has equipped him with farming knowledge that is broad, deep and rare. But nothing has prepared us, or any other farmer, for the challenges we’re facing as an industry.Just a tip: if you want to hold the moral high ground against your critics, you might want to reconsider Ag Gag laws. If you don't want to have your way of life considered a crime against nature, you might not want to spread so much manure that you turn the local lake into an algae-choked toxic shit hole. I'm not making the case that Dr. Oz, Oprah and Mark Bittman (not exactly Stalin, Mao and Pol Pot there) are correct in all of their criticisms of Big Ag, but I expect a statewide spokesman for agriculture to come up with a better argument than, "just trust us":
Farms, like any other business, involve a succession of worries. Our crop prices have dropped, and we desperately need moisture, but agriculture means we are at the mercy of weather and markets (unlike small business operators, who don't have any challenges to the potential success of their businesses).
No, what concerns farmers is the growing consensus that the way we farm is nothing less than a crime against nature, nutrition, and all that is good and true. Our critics are convinced that technology applied to personal communications devices and medicine is a net good, but science applied to growing things is freakish, unnatural and dangerous. They are bi-coastal experts on agriculture, armed with a touching nostalgia for a life they never lived.
Consumers have every right to be curious about how we raise their food (so I take it that video filmed in livestock operations is ok), and I’m more than glad to spend the next year talking about why we do the things we do (and one of the main reasons is that it is easier).
But those of us out here in the agricultural hinterlands are ill-prepared to joust with eloquent journalism professors, celebrity chefs, and multimillion-dollar propaganda campaigns from franchised burrito stands (yes, because agriculture has no political influence or financial backing to put together their own lobbying and propaganda campaigns). Seed corn gimme caps, blue jeans and a stubborn refusal to darken the door of the gym are inadequate tools when your industry is in the cross hairs of Dr. Oz, Oprah, and Mark Bittman, food writer and farming critic for The New York Times (damn liberal media).
Farming is the most conservative of industries.If you are in it for the long haul, you might not want to ignore the pointy-headed professors when they tell you that conventional tillage leads to massive soil erosion. You might not want to ignore them when they tell you that continuously using the same herbicides year after year will lead to the development of herbicide-resistant weeds. You might not want to plant corn-after-corn using the same genetic pest-control traits every year. In other words, if you plan on winning over a skeptical audience, you shouldn't expect them to believe the hype that has been spoon-fed to you by ass-kissing politicians and marketing hacks about how much better you are than everybody else, especially when there is a lot of evidence to suggest that you shouldn't be trusted to do what is wisest just because it would be in your long-term interest. Knowing that, you might want to construct an argument without strawmen, and with examples of how your actions are actually in your customers' best interests.
Someone once defined political conservatism as the granting of the vote to those who have gone before (and restricting the vote to brown folks [oh wait, that's my definition]). On most of our farms, the people who went before trained us, spent years riding along on the tractor fender hollering advice, and if we’re lucky, are still here on the farm imparting wisdom and experience (you know, because all old people are up on the latest technology and are ready to change how things are done when the old ways are obviously wrong [if they are, they are different than my grandpa, at least now. He used to be much more open to new ideas, now if we say we are doing something even slightly different than what he did, we are stupid and wrong.]).
We adopt change very, very slowly (not always, see Roundup Ready beans and triple-stack corn), and don’t invest in new ideas or new technologies without plenty of proof that they make sense (see previous point, or vertical tillage). Our commitment to the place where we live is strengthened by the presumed tenure of our residence here (see algae-choked toxic shit hole above).
Every year, the extension service in Missouri recognizes dozens of farms that have been in a family for a century. (I’m pretty sure dad is planning on receiving his award in person. [that is the author's note, and not mine])
Know this about me, and most other farmers: We’re in this for the long haul. If I’m using a new method or a new technology, I’m convinced that it’s not only the right thing for me, but for my grandkids as well (see examples of extremely short-term thinking above).
No comments:
Post a Comment