Opinion: Farmers deliver ‘multi-layered’ benefits
© Djomas/Adobe Stock “Sheep farmers just manage sheep”.
That’s what I heard during a recent visit to a nature reserve, which highlights how it cares about the landscape and the consequences of management decisions.
The implication was that sheep farmers don’t. Wearing fleece-lined blinkers, their land is dominated by ovine occupants. In contrast, the reserve is Eden.
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This reserve has its own livestock, but for conservation grazing rather than business. And it’s true that the reserve does more than manage sheep.
It sequesters carbon through natural regeneration areas. It regulates hydrology through peatland restoration schemes.
It’s beautiful, especially in autumn colours of russet, ochre and bronze from patches of bracken, old heather and native woodland.
It provides recreation opportunities for hikers, outdoor education for children, and its picnic tables are busy in the summer. Habitats range from meadows to montane scrub, hosting rare species.
Having no industry, its green lungs produce clean air for visiting humans. So far, so worthy.
The thing is, I know a few of this reserve’s neighbours – hill farms and estates who make a living on some of the toughest ground in the country. And they do all of the above, too.
They don’t just manage for sheep or cattle, although they’re important business enterprises.
But as well as contributing clean water and air, healthy soils, biodiversity, carbon sequestration, recreation, education and food, they also directly employ local folk, house families, welcome holidaymakers in cottages and lodges, and underpin the local business ecosystem – mechanics, hoteliers, grocers, retailers, butchers, trades, and cleaners.
This may seem an obvious statement. Even the Scottish government has recognised that farms and estates are multi-layered, delivering significant public benefits.
So why do we still hear comments like the one that greeted me at that nature reserve, implying that farmers are one-dimensional dinosaurs?
We live in combative times. The truth used to be clear and objective, but now we’re dealing with beliefs that are presented as truths.
The result is conflict, because dogma is a dangerous thing that tolerates no dissent.
I’ve met people who really believe that farmers are the enemy. I’ve attended meetings with civil servants, where provocative opinions have masqueraded as facts.
But opinions aren’t facts. We’ve all encountered people who’ve built their identity around an opinion, so treat any challenge to that opinion as a personal attack. That makes finding agreement impossible.
And, when a negative opinion about farming is presented as a fact and goes unchallenged, it’s another brick in the dividing wall between us and the public, who don’t have the time, knowledge or interest to interrogate what they’re being told.
Without British farmers, ordinary life for the public would be challenging. At Christmas, tables across the country will groan under the weight of home-grown produce.
People who believe farmers are bad will nevertheless be enjoying the results of our labour.
I’m not a religious person, but it’s an appropriate time to consider a teaching from the birthday boy himself: “Therefore, laying aside falsehood, speak truth each one of you with his neighbour, for we are members of one another.”
With power comes responsibility. It’s wrong for influential voices – wherever they are heard – to use their positions to sow division.
Livestock farms are the beating heart of our communities. In 2024, let’s ensure that truth is finally heard.