Farming of the Future

            My favorite of the TED talks I watched is probably Joe Salatin’s talk about the essence of farming. I’ve always brushed off the complaints of animal rights activists about how horribly the animals are treated before they get turned into hamburgers and chicken nuggets. I never really cared—the way I saw it, my personal participation in the market system is too negligible to affect what happens to the animals while they’re still alive, and since the one here on my plate is already dead, I may as well put it to good use and eat it. They were never going to convince me to become a vegetarian with their arguments about the welfare of the animals. Meat simply tastes too good for any consideration to be able to induce me to give it up, so I’ve dismissed the quality of life of the animals as not my concern. However, Salatin illustrated how this exact factor can benefit the hungry carnivore such as myself at the same time as it benefits the animals. By letting chickens live to the fullest potential of “essence of chicken,” they produced better eggs! How much better would cow’s milk taste if the cows were provided with everything they needed to discover the “essence of cow”? How much better would meat taste if it only came as the conclusion of a fulfilling animal life? These are all fascinating questions worth considering, and they might just steer me towards the organic foods aisle the next time I go to the grocery store.

            In three of the other TED talks I watched (by Mohamed Hage, Dickson Despommier, and Stephen Ritz), I could see a clear theme that farming is the key, not just to solving current and future food shortage problems, but to revitalizing our cities. Rooftop gardens and vertical farming can be an energy efficient and space efficient source of fresh food, fresh air, and employment in cities. “Edible walls” are a fantastic way to connect people (especially underprivileged kids) to each other, the earth, their community, and future career possibilities. All of these videos do away with the age-old idea that farming must be done in the open fields. It can be on top of buildings, inside them, and it can even turn sideways and run up our very walls.

 
It needn’t be done only by the stereotypical farmer—anyone can get involved, and they won’t necessarily end up covered in dirt and sweat. Better food can result, because we can control the very elements (as in atoms, not earth, air, fire, water) in which the plants grow. There is no need for pesticides or other harsh chemicals. The weather does not control the crop yields. Ultimately, urban farming is the bright, exciting future of food.

Farming: the Existential Crisis

            The readings for this course began with a feeling of optimism and idealism. Jefferson’s yeoman farmer is the perfect American citizen. Things darkened somewhat with Willa Cather, but at least remained nostalgic. She portrays farming as backbreaking, yes, but still meaningful and a source of as many joys as heartaches. Some more cynicism followed when we looked at the hilariously false advertising of Idaho, luring unsuspecting farmers into a land that did not want to be farmed. From there, we tumbled steeply downhill with Steinbeck. Unlike Ántonia’s family, the Joads don’t own the land they work; they are only allowed the means of scraping a living by the mercy of businessmen and bankers they’ve never even met before.

            We next studied Tomás Rivera, and got a glimpse at a side of farming just as depressing as Steinbeck’s. Unlike the Okies, Rivera’s migrant farmers had plenty of work to do, but the pay was barely enough to survive on, the conditions were appalling, and the bosses were suspicious, greedy tyrants. There seemed to be no justice for the child dying of heat stroke after working a ten-hour day in the fields, in Texas, in the middle of summer. Or for the child shot in the head for the crime of trying to quench his desperate thirst in the cows’ water trough. Ownership, then, seems to be the key to deriving fulfillment from working the earth. If the farmer doesn’t own the land he works, then he is nothing but a cog in a machine. Indistinctive, interchangeable, expendable. Still, even at that point, I thought “Well, the things Rivera wrote about happened decades ago. It isn’t like that anymore, right?” If only.

            According to a recent article on Cracked.com (which is mainly known for its humor articles, but has recently expanded to include a series of exposés about various sides of life the average middle class American has no knowledge of), the situation for migrant farmers has seen little (if any) improvement since Rivera’s childhood. Even now, in 2014, they still live in chicken coops, for which they must sometimes pay rent (Evans). The children are expected to start working at ages as young as six. They have to live wherever the work is, so education becomes fragmented and inconsistent. It’s one of the most dangerous jobs out there, and it’s still perfectly legal for children to do it.

            I feel so helpless about all of this, not only because I have no idea how I could personally help the situation, but because I can’t see how positive change could even be implemented on a larger scale. We like our food cheap and readily available, most of us don’t like growing or raising it ourselves, and we rarely think about how it made it to the grocery store. Until I read Rivera and this article, I had no idea there was such a thing as a migrant worker, let alone what it means to be one.

Work Cited

Evans, Robert. “5 Awful Things I Learned as a Child Laborer (in the USA).” Cracked.             Cracked.com, 29 Sept. 2014. Web. 16 October 2014.

One Hour of FarmVille

So I have now played FarmVille for an hour. Behold the fruits of my labor:

What's that, you say? You don't see the aforementioned fruits?

Well that would be because it takes FOUR MORE HOURS before I can harvest anything. You see the little farmer me there on the side? Even her tiny, low-resolution features seem to reflect my boredom and disdain. Don't believe me? Take a closer look:

That is the face of a woman who has given up on trying to find meaning in anything.

Now, I've had gaming problems before. When I was in grade school, I enjoyed endless (meaning that there is no clear storyline or ultimate goal) games like World of Warcraft to a certain point, but my addiction was Pharaoh, a simple but awesome ancient Egyptian city-builder. I could easily sink many hours of every day into that game, to the point that I forgot to be hungry when mealtimes came around. And more recently, the games like Candy Crush were my poison. Knowing that FarmVille was a lot like a city builder and that I am quite capable of getting addicted to games, I was very anxious about playing this game.

I needn't have feared. The interface is clumsy, buggy, and confusing. You don't see results from your labor for far too long for it to feel exciting, and when I couldn't even find a red barn to build on my land, I stopped caring entirely.

Mother Hubbard

Ma was heavy, but not fat.
Strong, broad, bare feet moved quickly and deftly

Sparse, steel-gray hair gathered in a wispy knot

Strong, freckled arms, hands delicate and girlish

Hazel eyes have experienced all possible tragedy

Steps into a high calm—

The citadel that could not be taken.

Healer, arbiter, goddess.

__________

I scrapped together this found poem from the only bit of The Grapes of Wrath that I actually enjoyed: the introduction of Ma Joad in chapter eight. By that point, I'd grown to expect unflattering, uncouth descriptions of characters, so Ma Joad was incredibly refreshing, and her reunion with her ex-convict son Tom was heartwarming and touching. It was one of the least cynical passages of the entire novel, giving this hard-working, selfless mother the reverence due her and allowing her this tender moment with her boy. It lasts barely a page and a half, but by the end of it, I was in tears.

Superman: Origins

 

I’ve always felt that Superman was boring because he’s basically invincible, and the only weakness he has is one he can never overcome. It doesn’t seem like the best formula for producing stunning character arcs (which was exactly the problem that drove me away from Smallville after a few seasons). Fans of Superman have informed me that I’m missing the point; he’s not supposed to be the flawed anti-hero like Tony Stark—he’s supposed to be an uncorrupted symbol of hope. No matter how bad the world gets, there’s one almost perfect man who will never turn his back on humanity. And that’s kind of beautiful (not to mention allegorical).

As I was thinking that over, it occurred to me that Superman's origins are highly significant to the kind of person he is. Now, when I say "origins," I'm not talking about Krypton. I'm talking about the Kent family farm, where he grew up. One of the best known, most beloved superheroes of comic book history is a humble farm boy from Kansas. But is the farm where he fights the bad guys? No, because the Kent farm and the town of Smallville are home, and no evil dwells there. The farm is wholesome and idyllic, a quaint paradise, and it’s the reason Superman is a wholesome, ideal individual. The evil springs up from and resides in the big city, Metropolis. Essentially, the big, corrupt city needs the good, honest, hard-working farm boy to swoop in and save it.

Clark Kent’s farm upbringing says a lot about farm culture in the U.S. The Kent farm is exactly the stereotypical image of a Great Plains family farm: red barn, slightly rusted grain silo, comfortable and inviting farmhouse, tractors, and livestock, all surrounded by acres and acres of tall, green rows of corn. And the people are just as idyllic as the farm itself. Jonathan and Martha Kent are kind, wise, sincere, and loving, and they encourage their adopted son to reach his full potential. Growing up on a farm did not turn the last son of Krypton into an uneducated bumpkin; it molded him into the kind of man who would devote his life to helping others.

Perhaps this was accidental. Perhaps the creators of the original comics weren’t trying to make a statement about the character of farmers in general when they crafted Superman’s backstory. But if it was an accident, then it seems all the more telling about how Americans perceive the farm. It’s not about being complex and clever; it’s about being a constant, simple standard of goodness.