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Who "created" regenerative agriculture - and who is it for? We need to ask these questions.

written by

Michelle Sroka

posted on

March 3, 2022

This post reflects on Episode 3, “What is Organic Farming?” and Episode 4, “Soil Health…What is It, and Why Should I Care?” from Rodale Institute’s “Being a Regenerative Consumer” course.

 

Since you're reading this on the website for a pasture-raised farm, I imagine you already have some knowledge about regenerative agriculture and soil health. Maybe you've learned about the biology of soil organisms. Or maybe you're interested in carbon sequestration. Regardless, this episode makes me think of a popular phrase in the regenerative world: "It's not the cow, it's the how." It's not about the cow, or the methane, or even the crops. It's about how all of those things engage in a relationship with the land.

Were you surprised to hear that, if we continue our current practices of conventional farming, the UN estimates we only have 60 years of soil fertility left? I am. It's an important counterpoint to the argument that conventional farming is necessary because "we need to feed the world". It will be quite difficult to feed the world if we've stripped all the topsoil - and most of the life - from our soils.

In other words, it's not just removing harmful practices that's necessary for soil health. It's adding materials and practices that's essential as well.  

This is something that often gets lost in mainstream discussions of climate change. Nearly all the emphasis is upon removing emissions, and pasture-raised systems are often dismissed as “too small” to do anything worthwhile. Yet simply removing emissions is actually not enough to reduce the world’s temperature rise to something manageable. Rather, we need to do things as well. And this is where regenerative agriculture comes in.

Quite simply, by rotationally grazing livestock, animals both remove carbon from the atmosphere (by keeping it sequestered in the soil) and add the essential minerals and nutrients that are vital to preserving soil health. Likewise, through rotations, bare spots where carbon can escape are prevented. This mimics the practice of cover cropping, in which the soil is always covered.

Yet, despite the good information, there are two problems I had with the videos I'd like to spotlight.

First, regenerative agriculture is often presented as something new that was suddenly created in the late twentieth century. However, many of these practices actually grew out of close observation and study of indigenous agricultural practices and land management. It’s important to note this specifically because white, non-indigenous settlers in this country are largely responsible for ignoring these practices, eliminating their practitioners, and producing devastating consequences to the soil. If we are to work with the soil, it’s important that we recognize that this is a partnership between what we implement on our farms, and what many indigenous cultures have always done. Most importantly, we need to give credit where it is due.

Moreover, the emphasis upon labels distracts from the main point – that you should have a relationship with your farmer, that you should know how your farmer is raising their food, and that you should know how that impacts your community. Labels are prohibitively expensive for small farms like ours, with costs in the thousands annually. Acquiring a label often means that the farmer is operating at a larger scale. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but again, it’s important to ask your farmer questions about how they farm, not just what the label says.

I think it's important to engage actively with these videos - to take the good information, but also to call out or challenge information we might find questionable. We need this kind of conversation if we are to improve our agricultural practices.

What did you think about the information in these episodes? Do you feel empowered as a consumer? How have you started to implement this information into your buying practices?

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Can we care about animals - and still raise them for food?

I probably spend the most time with the pigs on our farm. Part of this is practical: since pigs can’t sweat, we spray them down twice a day to help them wallow in the mud and stay cool.  But part of it is emotional, too. I enjoy being around the pigs. When there’s a lot on my mind, or I’ve spent too much time on the computer and need to get outside, wandering over to that week’s pig paddock is one of the ways I can clear my mind.  Pigs are highly emotive and responsive. When I spray them down with the hose, they like to sit back on their haunches, prick back their ears, and snap playfully at the water as it showers down on them. And then joyfully roll around in the mud afterward, of course.  But they’re responsive to humans in general, too. They are naturally curious and, in the case of our heritage breed Red Wattles, gentle. They’ll come up and sniff you, rub their mud-streaked bellies over you, and let you scratch their ears.  And maybe this is the part where you start to wonder: But aren’t you raising them for food?  Why would you want an emotional connection to an animal that you are raising for food?  I understand where this question is coming from. I was a vegetarian for nearly a decade because I didn’t like the thought of killing animals, especially within the framework of our industrial food system.  But actually, it isn’t a problem or moral quandary for me. Yes, we grow fond of and attached to our animals, including our pigs.  Yes, we still send them to the butcher or process them on our farm for food. And yes, this still makes sense to me.  I would gently suggest that the idea that we shouldn’t have any emotional connection to our food - that we can only eat meat that comes from animals we withhold our emotions or affection from - is a sign of our disconnection to the way food is grown.  That is, after all, one of the premises of industrial agriculture. Designate animals with one sole purpose - “becoming food” - and then shut them away in buildings, cramped quarters, or far away from humans who might interact with them beyond the farmer.  And the farmer, too, should be as disconnected as possible. After all, this is an efficient machine.  The problem, from a regenerative perspective, is that growing food is never just about growing food. Food is the gift you receive at the end of your work, but it’s the work itself - and the consequences of the work beyond the food - that is the point.  The work, on our farm, is caring for the land. That means working alongside animals to nurture native plants, clear forest areas to make existing trees healthier, and create habitats for birds, pollinators, and wildlife.  And that means becoming attentive and thoughtful - to animals and to the land. Watching, learning, and yes, developing bonds with the habitats you’re nurturing and the animals that are helping you do so.  Is it sad to load up animals and take them to the butcher at the end of the season? Yes, it often can be. But I don’t feel guilty about it. I know that we’ve given them the best life possible, and that we’ve partnered with them to leave our farm better than we found it each year.  And if that doesn’t make sense, that’s okay. I’m not saying that everyone has to agree with me. I’d simply like to advocate for a way of farming and consuming meat that includes this experience - one of affection and bonding between animals and humans.  After all, this is one of the many ways we try to do things differently on our farm. We don’t want to just provide you with food that meets your standards - non-GMO, no vaccines, no antibiotics, grass-fed and pasture-raised.  We also want to help you reconnect with that food. And part of that is knowing the animals, hearing stories about them, and yes, maybe even having an emotional connection with them, despite the end goal of providing meat to you.