By Mika Kooistra, 2022 Called to Climate Action Student Leader
There are no shortages of stereotypes, experiences and pithy comments attributed to self-identified “farm kids.” We claim to have been taught firsthand about the circle of life, know the meaning of hard work, and have lived lives dictated by the cycles of calving, planting and harvest that are intrinsic to every farm’s operation. I grew up experiencing all of these things (and more), but in recent years, other aspects of farm life have risen to the forefront of my relationship with agriculture. As an Environmental Science student, I have learned about things like salinization, loss of topsoil, and other ways that current agricultural practice negatively affects the very land it depends upon. It can be disheartening for me to realize that the farm I grew up on is part of a bigger problem driving degradation and contributing to climate change.
Since starting university in 2018, I have felt the tension between pursuing environmental justice and being a farm kid. As an environmentalist, I’d like to see cover crops and reductions in tillage, more saturated buffers and prairie strips for water filtration and carbon sequestration, and a lot less corn. As a farm kid, I’ve learned that healthy farms should always be maintained with the next generation in mind. These two perspectives seem more compatible than many realize.
If this vision for agriculture is possible, why does it still seem like there is a divide between these two communities? Firstly, it’s easy to paint farmers as bad guys in regards to the climate crisis. After all, large agricultural operations are common culprits for high methane emissions, water pollution and loss of diversity. Yet acknowledging this can alienate the very people who have the greatest potential to make change. I’ve observed deep pride in the identity of being producers. How can we shift focus so that the agricultural community sees themselves as sustainers too? Encouraging farmers to make changes without putting them on the defensive is something I continue to struggle with, but see as important for bridging the gap between these communities.
When I look at my own family farm, I see the ways that a “get big or get out” worldview has shifted our farming practice away from a more sustainable model. Corn and beef cattle are the primary sources of income for our farm because they have the most market value. All across Iowa, a similar focus on increasing the yields of a few crops keeps the agricultural industry at odds with what would be ecologically sustainable. Large field sizes make manual labor unreasonable, and high equipment costs make it difficult to farm multiple different crops using technology. These barriers, along with low market prices, disincentivizes farmers from pursuing more diverse crops. The factor of risk that is inherent to farming seems to hold the industry back from taking any additional risk in changing the methods they’re used to. Environmentalists like myself need to advocate for farmers to diversify, while also pushing for change in the markets and policies that make polyculture seem like a risk in the first place.
To truly pursue climate justice, this industry needs to be challenged and changed. My personal relationship with agriculture incentivizes and hinders my critique of current farming practice. It’s hard to be critical of a community that you belong to, and yet, I want to see it become better. I hope that climate conscious agricultural practices will soon become mainstream. But for this to happen, choices prioritizing sustainability need to be made now, with the next generation of farm kids in mind.