Farming Evolved Agriculture Through A different Lens

Transcriber: Thảo Nguyên Nguyễn
Reviewer: Rhonda Jacobs

Thank you all for having me today.

I’d like to introduce you
two very special people to me,

who, through the challenges
they were born with,

have helped me to see
our food system through a different lens.

This is my son, Spencer.

He was born with a rare syndrome
called 49,XXXXY,

which causes cognitive
and physical challenges.

49,XXXXY is not considered heritable.

And Spencer has enriched
our lives in many ways.

But understanding the challenges he faced,

we chose to have genetic testing
before trying for a second child,

and those tests revealed no concerns.

That’s our daughter Tatum,
kissing her older brother on the cheek.

She’s pretty spectacular.

When we found out we were pregnant
with her, we were ecstatic.

Then our obstetrician
gave us the diagnosis

of monoamniotic-monochorionic twins,

something that disrupted
what we hoped would be a normal pregnancy,

instead resulting in the loss of one twin

and Tatum being born

with a life-threatening abdominal wall
birth defect called an omphalocele.

Tatum was just a few hours old
when I took this picture.

I’d just finished meeting
with the medical team

that would soon perform the first of many
surgeries to correct her birth defects.

And during that meeting,
the nurse on the team looked at me

and asked a question I’ll never forget.

“Mr. Watkins, it just doesn’t make sense

that both your children
have these challenges.

But we see you farm for a living.

Where does your family get their water?”

The team’s concern was that
my children’s birth defects

can be caused by endocrine disruption
from exposure to drinking water

polluted with the millions of pounds
of pesticides and synthetic fertilizers

used to grow Iowa’s corn and soybeans.

Nitrogen fertilizer and the herbicide
glyphosate are suspected disrupters.

Six and a half million pounds
of the herbicide atrazine,

a proven endocrine disruptor,

are applied to Iowa’s crops
every single year.

Now, I’m not an organic farmer.

I use some of these products,

and I think It’s important
we learn to farm

without chemicals
and synthetic fertilizer.

But it’s critical we farm in ways
that keep them out of our water.

Fact is,

our water treatment plant operators
are the unsung heroes of this state,

but there’s only so much they can do.

[Atrazine 6.5 million lbs]

I’ll probably never know for sure

if farm chemicals
caused my children’s birth defects.

But I can’t prove they didn’t.

What I can prove is that
Iowa’s farmers can be productive

and keep these poisons out of our water.

Tatum and Spencer’s health challenges
reveal the real problem we must address,

which is a failing food system
that needlessly exploits people

and nature to secure the food we eat.

And sadly, it’s human nature
that drives this problem.

E.O. Wilson’s insight is that our power

to make the most of immediate
opportunities can be institutionalized,

making it very difficult
to change entrenched behavior

when we learn how to do things better.

Technology is important,

but just because we can
doesn’t mean we should.

The technology of synthetic fertilizer

masks the degradation of our soil
while polluting our water.

Technologies such as antibiotics
have allowed us to confine livestock.

These are both short-term solutions
with long-term consequences.

Often it’s our technology
that holds us back

from the sustainable solutions we need
to fix our failing food system,

creating more problems
for others downstream, literally.

Institutions such as slavery

and our government’s genocide
of Native Americans

on behalf of farming settlers

were reinforced by the primitive emotions

that make us accept
the destruction of natural resources

and exploitation of others

as justified in securing
our self-interest.

And we see the senseless influence
of these emotions, institutions

and God-like technology
in our food system today

with the treatment of essential workers
in Iowa’s packing plants.

I feel this influence when my own industry
lobbies to keep atrazine on the market,

telling me to care more
about the corn I raise

than the health of my family.

We see the destruction of resources
essential to the success of our state

with the fact that soil
erosion is happening

at 16 times the rate of soil generation,

leading to sedimentation of our water,
nutrient pollution and habitat loss,

resulting in over a third
of all Iowa species being in decline.

And we justify this soil loss
and nutrient pollution

because the chemicals and synthetic
fertilizers that were used

are necessary to drive high yields.

Yet these yields cannot be environmentally
or economically sustained.

In my lifetime,
there have only been nine years

where the price of corn
actually exceeded the cost of production,

with Farm Bill entitlements,
supported by your tax dollars,

making up the difference.

Iowa’s farmers once raised
157 different crops

and received no subsidies.

Today, we raise predominantly two crops:

corn and soy,

and receive over a billion
dollars a year in entitlements.

I’m a farmer, and I receive
these subsidies.

But you deserve clean water and healthy
soil for your investment in me.

Fixing our failing food system

has to start with prioritizing
both stewardship and social equity.

These issues are intertwined

and we can’t successfully
address one without the other.

Without stewardship we’ll continue
to erode our state’s natural resources,

creating a future
of scarcity and conflict.

These conditions will never
allow for social equity.

Yet when we ignore the inequality

and exploitation inherent
in our food system,

we create a vicious cycle
that’s only made possible by rationalizing

that what we’re doing is acceptable.

I’m a fourth generation
white, male landowner.

I’ve never been excluded from USDA loans
or programs for the color of my skin.

I’ve never been forced to work
in a covid-infected environment

to sustain a failing food system.

The injustice of our food system
is on people who don’t own land.

It’s on people who are
essential but invisible,

working in our packing plants, dairies

and picking our fruits
and vegetables for poverty wages.

And it’s on families
who can’t afford nutritious food,

because we subsidize the wrong things.

When it comes to social equity,
my role is to listen,

learn and support a system
where all people can thrive.

Farm stewardship is something
I do understand.

The reason I’m standing here today

is 23 years ago
in the middle of a blizzard,

I finally decided to trust my gut

and start focusing on stewardship
instead of production.

Until that fateful blizzard,

my farming practices were inspired

by the embodiment
of manifest destiny himself.

Secretary of Agriculture Earl Butz, who
in 1971 when I was just two years old,

told farmers to get big or get out.

His directive was to use the modern
technological package of chemicals,

equipment and synthetic fertilizer to
maximize our production of commodities.

Yield above all else.

Until that blizzard, I did my best
to follow Mr. Butz’s advice.

Farming with a total focus on production.

My attitude was modern technology
and determination

could conquer anything
Mother Nature threw my way.

Oh, I saw things that concerned me:

muddy streams,

fewer birds,

wildflowers on our landscape.

Practice that always concerned me

was having my cows calve
in February and early March.

Industry wisdom was that
by getting calving out of the way early,

I could dedicate my labor
to planting corn in April

and have bigger calves
to sell in the fall,

which, to an ag economist,
probably looked good on paper.

But seeing a shivering, muddy baby calf

on a cold, wet, miserable, snowy March day

never looked good to me.

But when your industry experts are telling
you to maximize your production

to feed a hungry world,

it’s hard to trust your gut,

even when you see things that concern you.

Then on March 11, 1998,

the blizzard struck
in the middle of calving season.

Within hours, the temperature fell
from 60 to below zero,

15 inches of snow,
sustained 40 mile per hour winds.

I worked around the clock
sheltering cows in chaos.

This miserable experience was
the inspiration I needed to trust my gut

and ask the most important
question of my career.

“Why am I working against Mother Nature?”

What I really wanted was clean water,
healthy soil and happy cows.

And this meant switching my focus
from production to stewardship.

If the experts right and I went broke
with this new approach, so be it.

I’d had enough.

And I just wanted to do right
by the cows and the land.

I started by moving
my calving season to April.

The warmer April weather reduced my costs,

and this small change
made wonderful things happen.

The warmer April weather reduced
my costs for fuel, equipment and feed,

and allowing the cows to express
their natural instincts

by calving on warm green pastures
instead of cold, muddy lots,

reduced their stress
and increased their productivity.

Instead of going broke, making a happy cow
made my farm profitable,

kick-starting a beautiful relationship
with Mother Nature.

And over time I’ve worked
to build a system

that reduces my reliance
on finite resources

by enhancing the biodiversity
and natural resources

that truly sustain my farm.

Five pieces of this system
with the greatest impact so far

include no-till.

This is placed in seed directly
in the ground without tillage,

which reduces soil erosion
as well as fuel and equipment costs.

Second,

by diversifying my corn-soy rotation
to include oats, clover and alfalfa,

I’ve enriched my soil
and enhanced biodiversity.

Iowa State University research shows
multi-species crop rotations

greatly reduce my chemical needs,
nitrogen fertilizer needs, soil erosion

and fossil fuel needs,

improving my bottom line
by working with nature.

Yet our farm bill subsidizes
the production of commodities,

not the regeneration
of the resources we depend upon,

sending a very confusing message
to farmers wanting to apply this research

and do the right thing.

The third piece of my system
is cover crops.

Prior to harvest, I use a helicopter
to fly rye into standing corn.

This will regenerate my soil’s
organic matter in the winter

with a blanket of living plants,

actively pulling carbon
from the atmosphere

while keeping nutrients
on my farm and out of our water.

I mean, come on,
farming with a helicopter,

regenerating our soil
and protecting our water?

I’ve got the greatest job ever!

(Laughter)

The fourth piece of my system
and my favorite

is farming with nature
to enhance wild species.

Prairie strips are a perfect example.

By strategically restoring
prairie to my fields,

I have been able to improve
my return on investment.

And bring birds, wildflowers
and pollinators back to our landscape,

while the deep prairie roots
restore my soil and protect our water.

And finally, I integrate the cows
back into my cropping system in the winter

to graze the cover crops, recycling
the nutrients my next crop will require.

It’s the golden rule of agronomy.

If you take something off the land,
you must replace it.

A cow is perfect for this.

(Laughter)

High-quality forage in the front,
high-quality nutrients out the back.

I think you get the picture.

Stewardship has made my farm
sustainable for three reasons.

First, it’s profitable,

and there is no sustainability
without profit.

Second, it makes
my farm ecologically sound.

Farms are living systems.

Living systems are sustained
by natural resources:

soil, sunlight, rainfall
and the knowledge they all work together.

Our farms can’t be sustained
by finite resources:

fossil fuel, chemicals, equipment.

Because over time
the cost of these resources

will exceed the cost
of the products I raise.

A better way of saying this is that
my role as a farmer is not to produce.

My role is to care for the land.

And when I do this properly,
the land can provide for us all.

And third, stewardship
makes my farm socially responsible.

We all deserve clean, safe water.

Farming with nature

regenerates and protects
the natural resources we all depend upon,

ensuring that the water
that leaves my farm is safe.

Creating a bright future for Tatum
and Spencer means everything to me.

I can’t undo the past.

But together we can address
the failures in our food system

and give all of our children
the bright future they deserve.

But the reality is, as it stands today,

our food system,
which we’re all a part of,

continues to needlessly
exploit people and nature

in ways that are harmful
to our communities,

our families and our environment
for the sake of yield.

That’s me sitting on
my grandmother’s Shambaugh’s lap.

Her legacy in founding
what would become 4-H

reassures me that we can fix
our failing food system.

Her work proved that
when we strive to make our best better,

agriculture can be a force for good.

Exploiting and excluding others,
treating people as less than

does not make our best better.

Destroying our natural resources
does not make our best better.

Embracing social equity and diversity
makes our best better.

Regenerating and protecting
our natural resources

makes our best better.

When we focus on stewardship
and social equity,

we build better farms.

When we build better farms,
we build better communities.

And when we build better communities,
we build a better future.

This is a legacy we can all be proud of,

and this is the legacy
our children deserve.

(Applause) (Cheers)