Michael Ableman and My Inner Peasant

Michael Ableman is a small-farm advocate, spreading the word about land stewardship and the importance of a regional food system. He market-farms on Saltspring Island, on a heritage homestead called Foxglove Farm, which also operates as a hub for forward-thinking folk interested in planning for the future of food. He fled to his Canadian outpost after years of farming California acreages that were constantly in peril from encroaching development.

He is continuing to speak out for those who can't speak for themselves: stoic, hard-working, long-suffering farmers who finally give up the fight, sell their land to developers, and move to a condo in Miami--or Victoria. He writes books of poetic prose about small farmers tending their land for past and present and future generations, and reads excerpts while showing slides of early morning misty potato fields.

I went to see Michael Ableman's presentation last week at the Centennial Theatre, mainly because I wanted to hear what someone who has made farm advocacy his full-time job had to say about the state of things. He is basically bearing witness to every small successful farmer he can find, and generating dialogue to support every food-growing enterprise in and outside the city. He advocates a list of recommendations society would follow if we actually valued agricultural production and wanted to make it a viable, profitable pursuit for up-and-comers. One suggestion is long-term land leases for willing hard-workers. He also frequently points out that "the farm is only as good as the farmer" and how important it is to pass on agricultural wisdom to the next generation. In the discussion afterwards, someone pointed out how land has become the latest "investment vehicle" rather than, again, being valued and stewarded for its fundamental food-producing capacity!

In all, I'm glad there's a community of smart people out there who are thinking about these things, coming up with "to do" lists and farming. Here on the West Coast, where milk and honey still (seem to) drip from trees, we exist in a bubble of abundance (perpetuated by the IOC) that relegates what is essentially a matter of survival (farming) to a quaint addition to our garden design schemes, or perhaps that lovely bohemian Saturday morning activity of shopping the local farmer's market with cappuccino in hand (I think I've just described my perfect day).

It's all good--it's just not enough. You know you're approaching self-reliance when you can't stand the sight of another bean or tomato or carrot or beet. We're still at the cappuccino level of food-production: it's our little treat for ourselves.

Meanwhile, the farmland we're really going to need when we really need it (?) is rapidly being big-boxed and condo-fied.

Alas, I am sooo guilty of loving the idea of farming. I attribute this to my inner indignant peasant, who finally transitioned to the merchant class, only to discover the urbane folk think peasantry is "in." I will not be duped back into the countryside to hoe the row! I spent my childhood peeling and pitting and canning and sweating and finally threw aside the mason jars for the delirium of flower-gardening. Imagine that: people who just want to grow flowers. Art takes precedence at last. Food? Bah! Let them eat cake.

This is a very bad attitude Ms. Antoinette, although I do eat a lot of cake (muffins, cookies, etc.). I do think I am making progress, however, because I do promote food gardening to some degree--however quaint--in my gardens. I think I like the "cottage-garden" idea, or perhaps the manor "kitchen-garden" concept, because it feels very urbane and swish to pluck morsels from one's garden to garnish one's life. Hmm. I think I may be on the verge of a functional shift.

Nevertheless, functional shifts are daunting. While attending talks given by charismatic mini-farmers such as Michael Ableman provide some sense of accomplishment (awareness is the first step!) actually doing something about our ravaged food system is...daunting.

Of course, we have the 100-Mile Diet movement. And Community Supported Agriculture (CSAs). And my greatest reassurance regarding the resilience of human beings: Cuba, a country that made the switch to self-sustenance in a remarkably short period of time, following the fall of the Soviet Union and the cutoff of agricultural subsidies and supplies. If they could do it, I believe, deep down, that Vancouverites will snare and eat the bunnies on Jericho Beach if we really really have to. I hear that, braised, bunny is very nice on a bed of kale.

Before I impale myself on my pen (vegetarian at heart) I should also note that the whole "have our cake and eat it too" attitude is something that naturally weathers away in the face of true adversity. For example, I have recently become aware of the "Slow Money" movement, springing (or should I say, plodding forth) from the Slow Food movement. In essence, we shall invest in food-producers with a lower rate of return than the conventional stock market buuuut with the satisfaction of knowing that our money is helping grow something real that will feed us in the event that Google goes down and plunges us into peasantry. Again.