DISCUSS: The fraternity of farmers’ changing Code

FIRST: Just like an old cop show, all the names in this article are made up. Any likeness to real people, places, etc. is purely coincidental.

Remember August’s discussion topic about cheapskate renters under-compensating rural landowners? It stemmed from an extended conversation with an active, regular Farm Bureau member who I visited on his farm early this year. He had a lot on his mind and our talk covered a lot of ground. One of its many compelling tangents brings us to this month’s topic: another look at farmer-to-farmer relations, but from a different angle. 

Standing outside Frank Olcott’s home that breezy spring day, he shared with me how Old Lady Wenzel very intentionally sold him — Frank — her widely coveted farm for less than what others were offering, simply because she knew him and respected his deep roots in the area. The sale got the farm off Old Lady Wenzel’s hands, but the sweetheart deal didn’t endear Frank to some of his neighbors. 

Then Frank turned on his heel and waved an arm toward a shiny new grain setup a ways down the road, across the section line in the opposite direction, gleaming in the early sun. 

“Newcomers,” he said. “Moved here from over in Hatch County a few years ago and bought that place lock, stock and barrel — used to be the old Brooks place — paid top dollar. Leveled all the buildings and put in that new grain setup. Not sure where they actually live.”

Newcomers… 

The nerve!

That was the seed for this topic, but I needed more to go on than just the drama from Frank’s neighborhood. And it’s touchy, right? One must tread lightly and match just the right tool (meaning the right people) to the job at hand to avoid fumbling around in the dark. And when it comes to touchy subjects, you go with experience, so I contacted one of our most experienced field staffers — a real seasoned vet.

I described the topic as best I could and his deep experience gleamed immediately: He knew exactly what I was talking about, and exactly who to visit. 

A couple weeks later he drove us out to Larry Somerset’s place, a tidy farm with deep roots in the bumpy glacial till of southern Wilson County. The three of us sat out on the porch and, again, I tried describing the sticky farmer-vs-farmer phenomenon I was there to learn more about.

Now Larry’s a legacy operator who’s seen a thing or two over the years. And from his authoritative, seasoned perspective, he not only understood exactly what I was struggling to describe, he had the perfect word for it:

“I know what you mean,” he said, nodding. “The Code.”

YES: The Code. 

Perfect.

“That Code has changed,” he said. “The Code has always been changing and always will change. We were always proud here in Wilson County, where all the big guys got along.”

Among other habits between friendly competitors, ‘getting along’ there has meant a lot of equitable land trading among neighbors and peers — this field for that field from one season to the next, as needs and circumstances cycled.

The Code — as in code of conduct between mutually respectful peers — has eroded over time as competition has fiercened, and as the values of Larry’s generation have begun to yield to those of a new generation that’s less… less… Less what? Less respectful?

Not exactly.

Younger farmers are less tied to earlier Codes — in part — because (a) there are fewer of them and (b) they rely less on face-to-face contact than their predecessors did. That means less neighborliness, fewer handshake agreements, and overall less community than before. And so the familiar “fraternity of farmers” fractures and disperses.

“Co-ops used to be huge. Now there are three,” Larry said. “I’m the only farmer at church,” he added, pointing to the indisputable truth that the farmer population has dwindled as agriculture itself has become increasingly mechanized, and increasingly specialized.

I asked if he pictured The Code as a one-way road headed for the horizon, or as a swinging pendulum that may reverse course after reaching a certain limit.

“Some of both, I think.”

Some county Farm Bureaus are revisiting the long-dormant notion of organizing rural-urban events to help bridge the gap between rural farmers and consumers in town. 

At the same time, the Community Farm Bureaus that once comprised the organization’s deepest grass roots continue to decline. You know them as Community Action Groups — groups like yours, patient reader.

“We need to relate to people on a more organic level than a professional one,” Larry finished. “Farm Bureau will remain relevant as long as our policies remain general enough to apply to all.”

Questions:

1. Assuming there’s an unwritten code of conduct among farmers, what are some actions or behaviors that code would frown upon or forbid?
2. To the best of your knowledge, how does the Farmers’ Code in your area differ from that in other parts of the state? 
3. How might a newcomer to your area best avoid running afoul of the local Farmers’ Code?
4. Farm Bureau doesn’t work if its diverse membership can’t achieve consensus. If new generations of farmers aren’t bound by an understood Code, what does that mean for our organization?
5. How might Farm Bureau play a role in improving farmer-to-farmer relations?

Include your name & CAG affiliation with your responses:

• EMAIL: [email protected]
• MAIL: MFB CAG Responses, ATTN: Ashley Frazee, 7373 W. Saginaw Hwy, Lansing, MI 48917