Feeding a vision — Part 2 of 2
Author’s Note: This is the second part of a two-part column, in which I discus what’s needed if Maine is to become the food basket of New England — a vision which is clearly possible, but far from inevitable. I began the first column by talking about my close association with the late Russell Libby, the long-time executive director of the Maine Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association (MOFGA) who also served as a founder and board member of Maine Farmland Trust. Since Libby and I began to work together 20 years ago, public attitudes about farming in Maine have fundamentally changed — from thinking that farming was dead, to seeing its great promise. Yet the future of farming here remains far from certain.
Some people say that local food costs too much. A fairer statement may be that a lot of the food brought here “from away” costs too little. Consider, for instance, how fruits and vegetables grown in California rely on water systems — and come East via transportation systems — built and maintained with government funds. Consider, also, how the transporters pay less for fuel than its true cost.
At present, some fruits and vegetables grown in Maine are cost-competitive with food from away and some are not. (It depends on the crop and time of year.) But more Maine food would become cost-competitive if more of the true cost of producing and transporting food were incorporated into its price.
Other price distortions result directly from federal farm policies. For example, the federal government sets the price paid to any dairy farmer who sells to a conventional processor like Oakhurst or Hood, and that price is often below the farmer’s cost of production. (The situation changes somewhat for organic dairy farmers and the handful of dairy farmers who sell direct retail; but even here, federal pricing constrains what’s possible.) Meanwhile, federal subsidies hold down the price of commodity crops that are principally grown out West (like corn, wheat and soy), which drives up the relative cost of products well suited to the Northeast (like grass-fed meat). Ultimately, these federal policies help neither farmers nor consumers. (Even for low-income consumers, the best approach is not to hold costs artificially down; it’s far smarter to improve these consumers’ buying power.)
As food costs rise — and they will — it’s likely that the cost of food from away will rise more than the cost of food from Maine. If the relative cost of Maine food drops enough, consumer demand will soar. Maine could then see millions of acres of former farmland produce food once again.
We can take steps to reduce the relative cost of Maine farm products by helping smaller farms scale up. In the last decade, we’ve seen rapid growth in small, diversified farms that sell directly through farmers markets, farm stands, and CSAs. Some of these farms now want to expand modestly, to increase efficiency and be able to sell at least some products wholesale.
That’s good news if we are serious about getting more Mainers to eat locally, because the majority of consumers are going to get most of their food from supermarkets and institutions (entities that principally buy wholesale), not from direct retail venues like farmers markets. Many small farms are now exploring various ways to enter wholesale markets, including participating in “food hubs” that pool products from multiple farms. These hubs — which come in many forms — begin to re-create the community-scale infrastructure that once existed throughout Maine, back when small canneries, creameries and slaughterhouses were common.
Maine farms will also become more competitive with changes to federal policy. With a new farm bill just passed, major reform is not coming soon; but reform will come, because the public will demand it. Awareness has now grown to a point where it will not be suppressed, spread as it has on so many levels — from author Michael Pollan to the local farmer who interacts with attentive customers.
Beyond what may happen in Maine or Washington, D.C., we are witnessing larger forces at work in this direction. The relative cost of food from away is slowly but methodically rising, driven ever upwards by numerous factors, including increasing fuel costs, more frequent droughts and crop-damaging storms, and the alarming depletion of the Ogallala Aquifer (which supplies 30 percent of the groundwater used for irrigation in the United States).
There’s no question that the economic realities in place a generation from now will bolster the competitive position of Maine farms and support the kind of robust local food system advanced by A New England Food Vision. But what happens between now and then? What happens in the interim, when the most profitable use of a 10-acre parcel with prime farm soils is to drop a new house in the middle of it, with no regard for that land’s potential to feed us? What happens when current market forces do not reward farmers adequately? What happens when new farmers cannot afford to buy transitioning farmland?
If — during this critical time — we lose much more land to shortsighted development, or if we lose farming know-how because we aren’t helping existing farmers remain in business or new farmers get started, then farming here will never realize its promise.
For close to 20 years, I’ve been an unabashed supporter of farming in Maine, talking up the future whenever I can. I’m still doing that. But now — amid all the excitement about farming — I make a point of stressing that not all economic forces lead in the right direction. The future we want will only be realized if we take deliberate steps to protect more farmland and provide key services to farmers — and only if we do so now, while we still have the opportunity.
When Russell Libby passed away in late 2012, many of us lost a dear friend and colleague upon whom we relied for so much. In my case, I also lost someone I could talk to about the numbers. Numbers are important — they frame what’s possible. In the 1880s, Maine farmed 6.5 million acres. Today, the figure is about 700,000. Of the remaining 5.8 million acres, only about a million acres have been lost to development. Much of what’s left has grown up in alder and pasture pine. With the right steps, that land could transform farming in Maine.
In winter 2009, Libby and I attended a gathering of farmers and researchers at Spannocchia, a farm in Tuscany, where my roommate was Brian Donahue and where I — as always — talked up Maine. At first, Donahue was skeptical that Maine had the potential to feed so much of New England. But that changed the more he spoke with Libby, who held in his head all the numbers needed to make the case. “Let’s look at this closer,” they said — and A New England Food Vision was conceived.
NOTE: As described in my first column, Donahue led a team of researchers in producing A New England Food Vision, a recent study that shows how the region could, by 2060, produce half to two-thirds of all its food — with Maine leading the way.
Yet numbers never capture the whole story — far from it. Libby, also a poet, knew that well. In this excerpt from his poem, “At Spannocchia,” he conveys both promise and urgency:
"After seeing the terraces of the gardens, level imposed on steepness below, steps connecting each level at each end, realizing this represents a thousand years of continuity, of a shared understanding of what is to be done, passed through time and changed through situation, the most important step for any of us may simply be to place the first stone."
Yes, Maine could once again feed itself and more. But just because this could happen, doesn’t mean that it will. The future of farming here hinges on what we do now. It’s time for the people of Maine to build an expansive and enduring terrace, a foundation worthy of who we are, and then upon it, tend a bountiful garden.
John Piotti of Unity runs Maine Farmland Trust. His column “Cedar and Pearl” appears every other week.