An elegy for the loss of family farms to the whims of "market forces" and the wheels of suburban development

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It is an all-too-familiar story: agricultural families throughout the world are losing their precious land and livelihoods to the whims of “market forces.” But whether due to excessive debt, competition from underpriced exports or unpredictable and fluctuating crop prices, the loss of family farms and community-based agri-cultures is not an accidental phenomenon. It is caused by specific, conscious policies enacted by global corporations and the institutions (nation-states, international trade agreements, etc.) that serve them. Their goal? Total for-profit corporate control of the world’s food systems.

Our response to this unconscionable theft of Earth’s gifts must be creative, radical (meaning to the roots!), and joyfully defiant: plant gardens everywhere! Distribute food for free whenever and wherever possible! Refuse, as best you can, to buy their industrial food—support local farmers and farmer’s markets, join a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) program, or get together with neighbors and grow your own! Tear up genetically-modified crops wherever they are planted! Support social movements in your local place and around the world that are working to dismantle the capitalist economy and build alternatives based on social, economic and ecological solidarity!

Simple Dirt
(Ethan Miller & Kate Boverman)

I rise every day before the dawn
And work until the evening’s light is gone
It’s a life of sweat and labor to be sure
But a life I would not trade this whole world for

This ain’t no simple dirt, this is the land of my birth
And here I plant the seeds of all I know
Is this all my life is worth, just some money for this earth?
I offer you the fruit my hands have sown,
All the life these fields have grown

This house was built by skilled and careful hands
Each stone and bean were carved out from this land
Since the year of 1823, this house was home to family
We plant the seeds they brought across the sea

We’ve weathered many storms as they swept across this land
We spent many winter nights around the table holding hands
We wrapped ourselves in quilts that Grandma made from bags of grain
Looked out to the west and prayed for summer rains

But then they told us that the times were changing fast
They told us that our way of life was a relic of the past
So we sold our pigs and cows and took out loans for the machines
Trading life for debt to someone else’s dreams

Where once we planted gardens, we plant corn in endless rows
It’s the market, not the weather now, that strikes the fateful blow
‘Cause the price of corn is made by people far away from here
Folks who never had to fight to make it through another year

The notice from the bank came in the mail
I hung my head and cried for all I’d failed
What was built by generations bow crumbles to the ground
And another farm will vanish from this town

When the fields are paved ad carved up into subdivision lots
Will anyone remember what we’ve lost?
They’ll name their new construction after what they’ve torn apart
And they won’t just break this ground, they’ll break my heart

My ancestors were refugees fleeing from the war
Sowing seeds of safety on this distant shore
And I watch as it slips through my hands, all that they worked for
And now we will be refugees once more