A fierce denunciation of corporate agriculture by a working farmer and attorney.
“Corporate agriculture has not only destroyed the rural spirit and harmony of living as one with the land but of living with one another as well.” So writes Trom Eayrs toward the end of her book, equal parts manifesto and memoir. A constant presence is her father, the grandson of a Norwegian immigrant who made a hard living in the red-barn country of southern Minnesota, where farmers learned that the longevity of their fields hinged on taking care of them—and taking care of the surrounding community as well. Now that land ownership, as Trom Eayrs notes, has been unlinked from the bonds of family, some good has resulted, “giving women access to land ownership and property rights, allowing racial and ethnic minorities to become landowners, and creating more avenues for upward social and economic mobility.” Yet, she adds, it has also opened the door for corporate ownership, either outright or via leasing farms whose owners become employees. In this regard, she observes, a leased farm just a mile from her family farm in Dodge County earned what on paper appeared to be a sizable source of income, but once expenses were deducted, the net monthly profit was only $41. Those “razor-thin margins” explain why growers use the cheapest possible immigrant labor, cram as much livestock into “concentrated animal feeding operations” as possible, and take no care of the land; the result is meat laced with antibiotics, polluted rivers, and a depopulated countryside. All this will continue, Trom Eayrs concludes, until the federal government stops subsidizing Big Ag and abetting “corporate lawlessness.” A smart, militant update to Wes Jackson’s and Wendell Berry’s writings on smallholder farming, her book demands immediate reforms.
An indignant, righteously wrathful defense of the family farm in the face of corporate voracity.