One of the most precious things anyone can own is a plot of land. Precious not only for what it can provide — a place to call home, sustenance from the ground, space to roam free — but precious also because of its own inherent worth as a unique masterpiece of creation. Owning such a precious gift is an immense privilege. And an immense responsibility. “Every field knows its owner, the earth is indignant at every crime committed on its face.”1 thus the old peasant wisdom proclaims. A truth such as this is worth etching on to the forefront of our collective consciousness. We would denounce the man who destroyed or allowed to decay a painting by a Master that he owned. Likewise, should we protest against the Bad Farmer who abuses and neglects his most precious charge — his land.
Throughout the ages, peasants and smallholders have been among the most wise and skilful farmers. Perhaps it is a law that the less one has, the more one takes care of it. Certainly, being acutely aware that your very survival depends upon the health of the limited acres one owns puts an urgent imperative on proper care. But perhaps the prime reason that smallholders’ land is better cared for is related to limitations: the limited spatial scale of what is under their care matches the limited abilities and energies of a fundamentally limited human steward. Working within these limits and farming at the appropriate scale, the land and their stewards can mutually flourish.
Furthermore, living day in day out on their land allows for close and consistent observation over the course of the seasons. This in turn enables the smallholder to intimately know the needs of his land and to readily perceive its limitations. He (or she)2 knows what is best — and will labour strenuously to provide it. With rich, well-matured, and place-based agroecological wisdom that has accumulated over a multitude of seasons, the smallholder tends his crops, defends against pests, leads his livestock to pastures new, and obeys the Doctrine of Return. Scrupulously. These faithful activities, coupled with the necessary blessing of the Creator who causes all things to grow, will lead to many abundant harvests and a blessed, well-cared for land — the chief ends of the Good Farmer.
The Doctrine of Return3 is the one of the most important activities on a farm — second only to the act of harvest. Multitudes of wise agrarians down the ages have each formulated their own version of this doctrine. It is a lore that traditional farmers such as the Hunza4 have been practicing for millennia and is a doctrine all Good Farmers are at pains to obey. It forms the bedrock of all agricultural wisdom — an integral, fundamental tenant of the Canon of Good and Sound Farming.5 Simply put, the doctrine states that every time you take from your land —nutrients, crops, livestock — you must in equal measure (or preferably in greater measure) return nutrients and goodness to it.
Whenever crops or livestock leave the farm, they take away with them nutrients from the soil which are now enclosed within their seeds, leaves, or muscles. If this flow continues unabated the well will eventually run dry. Poor yields inevitably follow, threatening the farmers’ very existence. Despite what many think (including, it seems, many Big-Ag CEOs) the soil is not an unlimited resource we can liberally and continuously take from; it is fundamentally limited in space, and practically limited over time, forming, as it does, at a rate that makes a glacier look fast. Thus, each and every time a farmer exports an abundant harvest off his farm, he is drawing down a debt — a debt that will one day turn to bite and ruin him. That is, unless he obeys the Doctrine of Return. If he faithfully obeys it, he will see his land flourish and will have fulfilled one of his greatest responsibilities — for the maintenance of healthy soil is the ultimate mark of his “goodness” in farming.
The Doctrine of Return is also consistent with one of the foremost principles of Good Farming: that agriculture should be as cyclical as possible and not primarily a flow. Cycles abound in the natural world. Life on this earth itself could even be considered as one gigantic cycle. We see it in the carbon cycle, the water cycle, and the cycle of life and death. Cycles are renewable, mutually reinforcing, and can build up ecological wealth, health, and resilience with each successive turn of the cycle. This accumulation of beneficial attributes occurs as the elements that constitute the cycle (such as individual species or soil) develop and mature over time or build upon the successes of their now deceased forebears. Additionally, any excesses produced by the cycle can reinvested in the system or used to further strengthen individual elements.
Within agriculture, treating the system as a cycle means (amongst other things) that as much biomass as possible is retained and reinvested in the soil, some food from the farm is consumed on the farm and eventually returned to the farm as manures and seeds are saved and replanted. Over multiple generational cycles, the crops from these seeds become specifically adapted to the unique particularities of the land the farm is situated on. Livestock, too, develop traits and characteristics that are adapted to place and the ancestors of the lambs now in the field had names that the farmer knew and can remember.
Modern industrial agriculture, on the other hand, treats agriculture as a flow. Agrochemicals such as artificial fertilisers are continuously imported into the system and soil fertility is exported out when crops and livestock are harvested and shipped off to distant markets. Instead of excesses being reinvested, they mostly flow out as wastes. The way that manures are often washed into rivers from livestock sheds is a case in point. Whereas for the smallholder, manures are an immensely valuable resource, for the industrial farm they are a nuisance — the disposal of which turns what is valuable into a toxic waste. Surely this paradox of value becoming waste is one of the most supreme fallacies of our modern age6. The fallacy becomes absurd when the soil itself — that most precious of resources — becomes a toxic waste when it is eroded away en masse by industrial agricultural practices. Separated from its home on terra firma, the fertiliser-laden soil silts up rivers and produces toxic algal blooms. Two habitats are destroyed for the price of one. Stupidity in concentration.7
Artificial fertilisers form the basis of the agriculture-as-flow mechanism. Though it would be amiss to overlook the stunning, somewhat stratospheric increases in productivity artificial fertilisers have brought about over the last 80 or so years; and though in limited and precise use they can be of great benefit to farmers (especially those with naturally nutrient poor soils), humanity has generally been grossly profligate in the use of them.8 And we have become addicted.
Artificial fertilisers can be likened to a drug. A drug that artificially enhances in the short term the productivity of the land (thus masking ongoing underlying problems that are harming the soil and causing poor yields such as nutrient mining, soil erosion, and the loss of organic matter) and locks the farmer into a dependency. Continuous high yields are now what is expected, demanded even, by the modern food system. To meet contract stipulations, farmers must produce at this level. To the farmer locked into artificial fertiliser use, ever increasing use seems to be the only way of doing so.
A fertiliser dependent farmer is constantly pumping medicine into the soil without addressing the underlying causes of nutrient loss and soil degradation. A man full of and reliant on medicine is not a healthy man. Likewise, a soil laden with, and reliant on, chemicals is not healthy by any stretch of the imagination. And neither is the farmer. Being reliant on expensive artificial fertilisers, whose energy intensive production exposes them to volatile energy price swings, lowers farmer autonomy, independence and resilience. He becomes reliant on stability in distant and volatile energy markets rather than reliant on his own soil’s regenerative capacity in partnership with his own skill and management. The majority of farmers are already severely cash strapped. One more energy crisis may be their ruin. The future looks bleak.
Like most powerful drugs, artificial fertilisers also have side effects.9 They detrimentally impact soil microbiota and soil structure. Are more likely to be washed off the land into rivers. Rely on energy intensive production which contributes to all the ills associated with carbon emissions. Contribute to global phosphorous depletion. Trap poor farmers in debt from loans taken out to afford costly application machinery and also to afford fertilisers when the energy market inflates their prices. The list goes on. Chiefly, reliance on these stimulants demonstrates something is fundamentally wrong in our agricultural practice and economy. Cycles are being broken, abused, and ignored. Soil fertility is not being built up or even maintained. Earthworm abundance is declining. Soil structure is degrading. Farmers are losing the skills, knowledge and wisdom of proper soil and land care.
The land is suffering.
If one’s soil is healthy, rich, and in balance there should be no need to depend upon artificial fertilisers. The restoration of balance and soil health must, therefore, be the goal all farmers slowly and steadily work towards, gradually reducing their dependence on fertilisers to the point where they hopefully can be dispensed with. This can be achieved through the use of legume cover crops and rotations, sensitive use of manures and composts, and restoring soil structure, function and organic matter content. These practices come, though, with a cost: initial and ongoing financial costs, labour and time burdens, and potential opportunity costs. But the investment is worth it. The long term and reliable dividends from the land will more than make up for it.
Thus, instead of spending on exhaustible and damaging artificial fertilisers, farmers should commit to investing in their own land, building up their Bank of Fertility as G. A. Squires memorably put it10. This is especially so for smallholders. By very nature of their little land and limited capital, smallholders are never going to be rich. Their bank balances will almost certainly remain miserly. But that is no great loss. For most of them, a job well done, the independence enabled by self-sufficiency, and a life lived within the Community of Creation surrounded everyday by abundant beauty are rewards enough. The “joys” of mass consumerism are not what brings them joy. They are content with what they have, knowing that a healthy land is one of the most precious things a man can own. The limited surpluses they do obtain from the produce and profits of their land can be reinvested back into it: ploughing crop residues back in, investing in quality composts, and restoring on-farm habitats and soil structure. This builds up a richness of immense value that cannot be stolen, which can see them through lean times, and which persists for future generations.
When all is said and done, passing one’s land on to the next generation in a better, richer, healthier condition than when one inherited it is the chief end of the farmer. It is the mark of stewardship faithfully accomplished and the reward for the long, faithful obedience of the Doctrine of Return. Investing his surpluses in the soil, building up its health for the benefit of the myriad of creatures he shares his land with and for future generations means he will be remembered in local history as a good and faithful steward of the land, the fruits of whose labour continue to be enjoyed.
He will be a Good Farmer indeed.
This essay is free, but any tips given (or paid subscriptions) support my work, help me to write more pieces, and are greatly received by this young writer.
A reminder that the 50% off a paid subscription offer is still available, which will give access to my essay archive (some of which were hyperlinked in this essay).
Thomas & Znaniecki, The Polish Peasant in Europe and America. p.220
It is imperative to mention she as the majority of land workers round the world are women.
Adapting Wendell Berry’s term the ‘economy of return’ from the essay The Agrarian Standard
From James C. Scott, Seeing Like A State.
See C. Howard Jones for more on the Canon of Farming in his essay Is Modern Farming Unsound?
Indeed, Lord Northbourne states as much in his essay Health and Fertility in The Natural Order, Ed. Massingham.
Wendell Berry’s term.
So do, it must be said, manures when they are inappropriately applied.
G.A Squires, The Small Farmer on The Land. In The Small Farmer, ed. Massingham. I am indebted to Squires for the content and main ideas of this paragraph.
I appreciate getting to read on a subject I'm quite ignorant of, from the perspective of one who is so invested in it. Your words about artificial fertilizers as a drug are especially interesting to me. A subject I'm much more well-versed in is the use of technology in our personal lives, particularly smartphones, and how it has, through its utter ubiquity, actually done great harm to us. There seems to be a clear parallel here -- humans do seem to have the tendency, when handed a good thing, to make it the ultimate thing, and thereby blind themselves to the harm that can come from overuse.
Stupidity in concentration indeed! Here in the USA, we have not only screwed up some of the richest soils on the planet, the land that was covered in native prairie grasses, but have drained the largest natural aquifer under those beautiful soils to overproduce grain for cattle feed. And the overuse of chemical fertilizers and poor farming practices have further depleted the land and now we are paying the price. American big Ag is a joke and all the money in the world isn’t going to fix the problems. There are many areas in this country that were extremely productive which are now so depleted or polluted that they have been abandoned. And all for of the acquisition of power and money. Our planet and soils are not inexhaustible. Care must be taken in how we live today to help heal the land. Personally, I’ve changed my diet so as not to contribute to these greed mongers. I grow my own produce as much as possible or shop locally to support local small businesses that provide excellent food items. I may be only one individual but if we each do what we can, it adds up. And we can make a difference.