But fewer than 2 percent of the American population makes a living in farming or agriculture-related business. At the turn of the last century, it was 40 percent. When Thomas Jefferson extolled the virtue of the yeoman farmer in his Notes on Virginia, it was far higher (though it must be noted that Jefferson's slaves helped boost the rural percentage).
Despite his belief in the strength of a republic of independent farmers, however, even Jefferson foresaw a point where American farmers would produce more than we need. Once farmers started producing a surplus, he suggested the unneeded farmers become sailors or manufacturers. But not merchants.
Although a growing number of innovative farmers, such as Karl Kupers '71, of Harrington (see Washington State Magazine, winter 2004-05, page 10) have abandoned surplus commodities for more innovative marketing, not every farmer is sufficiently entrepreneurial. So the question remains, is the agrarian tradition of any real value to our society? You hear a lot of Jeffersonian pontification about the independent farmer being the core of our democracy. Judging by dominant buying habits, however, a good many Americans seem perfectly content to have "our" farmers living in Mexico, China, and Brazil.
There's also the matter of perspective. "You'll get a very different answer from a historian than an ag economist," says WSU agricultural historian David Coon. "An economist would see this as very much part of the natural process, that fewer farmers isn't necessarily a loss. The ones who remain are much more efficient and up to date in terms of management. Rather than having more people living on the margins in rural areas, it's better to move them off to the towns and work at Boeing.
"Historians will give you a different view. There's a tremendous loss there. It's not just a matter of efficiency, but a matter of culture. By taking people off the land, you're not only reducing the number of rural people, but also hurting the towns and hurting the schools, the community institutions, the churches and social organizations."
"Part of our training," says ag economist Richard Carkner, "is looking at economic efficiency. . . . I spent a good share of my career trying to help farmers adapt to technology and looking at scale impacts, advising them on management schemes that allow them to expand. But in the last three years of my career, I started thinking some of these other values are ultimately more important than economic efficiency."
Carkner underwent something of a conversion during a sabbatical year with the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations in Rome. He was impressed by the markets in Rome and that food was produced locally. But mostly he was impressed by the potential of that local production and its markets for building community.
Carkner believes that economists should start thinking about the impact of scale not on the profit eked out per bushel of wheat as production increases, but on rural communities, families, and churches.
"I should have studied sociology, I guess."
It is early October, and the weather at the Lake City farmers market in Seattle is drizzle interrupting sunbreaks interrupting drizzle. The crowd is light today, says Polly, who is selling organic cheese for Samish Bay Cheese. But the intermittent rain doesn't seem to have any effect on people's enthusiasm for the regional products available here. Perhaps 40 vendors are selling a tantalizing variety of seasonal produce: beets, greens, apples, gourds, and honey.
Cindy (Rappuhn) Roodzant '84 has driven over from Startup, just east of Monroe, with her daughter to sell organic pork, free-range chicken, and beef that they grow on their small farm. Business seems good, but she says her husband Brent '83 still works off-farm 30 hours a week to support the family.
We talk briefly about their hogs, Durocs, a good meaty breed, and the taste of pork from hogs that have been allowed to play and luxuriate in pasture, in contrast to the factory-farm pork in the supermarket. But another customer beckons, so I drift back to talk with Polly and sample her cheese as she extols the seasonal range of flavor in their products.
Polly is trained as a wine steward and formerly worked in the wine section of DeLaurentis at Pike Place Market. She talks with much familiarity about the regionality of wine and cheese, from Tuscany to Washington.
"I'm borderline passionate about organic farming," because of the environmental benefits, she says. "But I'm passionate about the quality of food."
Could this be a key to what people are looking for? Is it really rural culture they want, or just good tasting food, preferably grown nearby?
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