It Was Only A Farm

Dr. Farmer wrote this column during the farm crisis of the mid-80s. Unfortunately, in 1997 there is a need for this message. Recurrent wet weather years in the upper Midwest and tough economic conditions have put considerable pressure on small and mid-size family farm operations. Many farmers and ex-farmers from that era have commented on how this column helped them think clearly about their situation.

A farm woman describes the small foothold her and her family has made in starting again in farming after having lost their farm to chapter seven bankruptcy. They are now renting a tractor and several small parcels of land.

Reflecting on the emotional turmoil surrounding the loss of the farm, she made this comment. "We were guilty of feeling so strongly for our farm. Never again! It is only a business and a piece of property. If it doesn't 'pencil out,' get out."

That family learned a great lesson. To love something that much and then lose it is to endure great pain. In the end, they found that the farm was a means to an end - the generation of income to sustain a loving family and lifestyle - rather than an end in itself.

Irrational attachment to the farm. A firm, like a child or a business, can absorb attention, resources and energy. There is joy in watching it grow, improve and take on beauty.

A farm, especially one that has been in the family for generations, can be the object of great attachment and adoration. It assumes a mythical quality and a life of its own. "The farm must be kept in the family." Too many people have loved it, cared for it and sacrificed for it to allow it to pass on to unhallowed hands.

Some farmers, otherwise practical, rational men, develop an obsession with the farm to the point where they contemplate throwing away their lives as they anticipate its potential loss.

The love of a particular piece of ground or set of buildings is also the basis of father-son partnerships. This "love of the farm" promotes difficult and unnatural dependency relationships between adult males. Both father and son have difficulty sorting out the complexity of their relationship as they struggle to understand their mutual obligations.

The farm can also be the object of intense competition. Between siblings it can be a symbol of ultimate parental love. It can also be a source of power for parents to wield over children who would sacrifice their own integrity to gain possession of it. Off farm heirs can also maintain a passionate interest in the farm and have strong expectations regarding its care and disposition.

Ownership of the farm. Farmers derive status from ownership of land - or the pretense of ownership, as generally someone else holds the mortgage. To be an owner of land is to be somebody. That is greater than possessing wealth in other forms.

Many farmers accept drastic cuts in their standard of living to maintain their status as an owner of their operation. No matter how debt-ridden, they still have status among their peers as long as they retain "ownership."

Where is the mistake in all this? Why is ownership of a farm so seductive? Why does it generate such irrational attachment? The love of a farm may be the highest and most socially acceptable form of a common human tendency - loving objects or activities that have no life.

Some people make their homes the object of their lavish care. Others may be collectors of art, dishes, old ears, corns or guns. Some "love" their gardens, for others it is golf Some may be excessively devoted to their work or to the National Football League. The list is endless.

These things are not necessarily bad unless they become ends in themselves. A little discontent keeps us moving, learning, reaching and producing. But to reach for more and more without real purpose or limit creates a discontent that cannot be satisfied.

Daniel Defoe said it best. "All the good things of the world are no further good to us than they are of use; and of all we may heap up, we enjoy only so much as we can use, and no more.

Serve people, not the farm. The farm is to serve people and not people to serve the farm. People are important. People are worthy of love. We can love people without limit. It is their growth and development that is important. The farm can help in that process.

What good is a farm? What good is a farm if it drains the family of emotional well-being, loving and fun times together, and is the source of worry, anxiety and heartache? What good is a farm if it drives a wedge between marriage partners and causes fights and arguments?

What good is a farm if the farmer devotes all his waking hours and energies to its service and neglects that which truly has life - his wife and children?

A farm is good if it does not become the object of unnatural affection. It has a use. If it stops being useful, of what value is it?

The pain and suffering of farm families financing huge debt problems is compounded by their undue affection for the farm. Perhaps the last and hardest lesson of the farm crisis of the 80s is the one mentioned by the farm woman.

"We were guilty of feeling so strongly for our farm. Never again!"