The post US Importers Sued for ‘Greenwashing’ Mexican Avocados appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Avocados are a regular part of many consumer’s weekly shopping—a key ingredient in guacamole, a slice on the side of a buddha bowl, and a healthy topper for toast—and sales are steadily rising.
But there’s a dark side to this booming market. Nearly all avocados sold in the U.S. are imported, and most of those come from just two western Mexican states—Michoacán and Jalisco—where serious concerns are being raised about their environmental and human impacts.
A 2023 investigation by the NGO Climate Rights International found vast tracts of forest being cleared for avocado plantations, water being diverted to irrigate the thirsty crop, and evidence of the mucky fingerprints of organized crime.
It concluded that virtually all deforestation for avocados in Michoacán and Jalisco over the past two decades was illegal. As a result, the report holds the industry liable for taking a serious toll on local communities, contributing to land grabs and water shortages, degrading the soil, and increasing the risks of lethal landslides and flooding.
A follow-up study the following year with the Mexican NGO Guardián Forestal concluded that little had changed. Now, U.S. avocado growers and consumer groups are accusing major fruit firms of falsely portraying imported fruit as a sustainable option.
The non-profit Organic Consumers Association (OCA) fired the first shots, filing lawsuits in 2024 against four of the biggest avocado importers: Calavo, Mission, West Pak, and Fresh Del Monte. These companies import avocados from Mexico and supply them to major supermarket chains throughout the U.S., including Costco, Walmart, Trader Joe’s, and Whole Foods. OCA claims statements on these companies’ websites and social media that their avocados are sourced responsibly and sustainably are untrue.
Alexis Baden-Mayer, political director of OCA, notes that all imported avocados must be labeled with the country of origin, but that’s often the only truthful statement conveyed to the consumer. “The impact of avocado farming is a carefully guarded secret that the companies conceal with elaborate greenwashing,” she said. “That’s what we took action against.”
In February, Calavo Growers, Mission Produce, and West Pak Avocado pledged not to buy avocados grown on recently cleared land as part of a new Mexican certification scheme.
OCA subsequently dropped its case against West Pak, saying the company had agreed to stop using the “challenged marketing claims and to employ enhanced due diligence mechanisms to identify and stop sourcing from orchards in Mexico identified as existing on land that has been deforested since January 1, 2018.”
But it maintains that the other three companies continue to mislead the public. The lawsuit against Del Monte was allowed to proceed in February after a court denied the company’s attempt to dismiss it, rejecting arguments that the link between OCA and Del Monte was too tenuous to bring a claim. The other two claims, against Calavo and Mission Produce, are still pending.
The Del Monte lawsuit notes that people are becoming increasingly concerned about the impacts of their food. Consumers, says the filing, are motivated to buy produce marketed as “sustainable” and are often willing to pay more for it or to buy more of it. “Corporations that market these products, such as Del Monte, are keenly aware of this consumer willingness,” the filing states.
OCA says it is bringing the claim on behalf of consumers in the District of Columbia and is not seeking monetary damages. Instead, it wants the court to declare Del Monte’s practices false and deceptive and to order it to stop.
In Southern California, a group of companies that own and operate avocado orchards—Kachuck Enterprises, Bantle Avocado Farm, Maskell Family Trust, and Northern Capital—were growing increasingly frustrated about being undercut by importers. They were already reeling from poor domestic harvests, growing utility costs, tougher regulatory requirements, and a shortage of skilled labor, and having to compete with cheaper imports reduced their profitability even further.
Norm Kachuck is CEO of Kachuck Enterprises, and his family and partners have farmed 370 acres of Hass avocados in Valley Center, California, since 1969. He thinks consumers generally realize they’re eating avocados that have travelled from outside the U.S. But they’re “only now becoming aware of the implications of how that sourcing compromises the attractiveness of that imported fruit,” he said.
In February, the California firms jointly filed a lawsuit against Mission, Calavo, and Fresh Del Monte.
The California-based avocado growers say the companies mislead consumers by marketing their avocados as sustainable, even though the fruit comes from orchards where the local environment is being destroyed through deforestation, water shortages, soil degradation, and biodiversity and habitat loss.
They also say dubious sourcing of avocados contributes to climate change through deforestation and the subsequent loss of a natural carbon sink. This, the lawsuit claims, breaches California’s False Advertising and Unfair Competition laws.
Kachuck points to a trade imbalance within the agriculture sector. “Regulatory oversight and validation of good practices are very difficult to document for compliance over the border,” he noted, “They are of course done much better here. And there are validated and official fair market agreements between wholesalers and retailers that require documentation and compliance.”
From the OCA lawsuit against Del Monte: “Based upon Mexican government shipping records, in 2022, Del Monte sourced 49,394 kilograms from orchards in the municipality of Zacapu, Michoacán, shown in the images below. Satellite photography from May 2012 shows native forest covering this land; photography from October 2020 shows the land deforested and replaced with an avocado orchard from which Del Monte sourced avocados.”
The importing companies have filed requests for dismissal. If the court rejects those, the case will rumble on to the discovery phase, where both sides will exchange information pertinent to the trial.
None of the companies subject to lawsuits responded to requests for comment. Reuters was also rebuffed by nine major U.S. supermarkets and food chains it contacted in a report last year about avocado supply chains; only Amazon’s Whole Foods Market responded in that report that it was actively working with its suppliers to “prioritize Fair Trade certified and other responsibly sourced avocados.”
Awareness of the impact of imported avocados is growing. Following concerns raised by Senator Peter Welch (D-Vermont) and others, then U.S. ambassador to Mexico, Ken Salazar, noted the proliferation of orchards on illegally deforested land during a visit to Michoacán last year. He was reported as saying that Mexican avocado exporters “shouldn’t have the opportunity to sell those avocados to the United States market.”
President Joe Biden’s administration subsequently released a policy framework on combatting demand-driven deforestation of all agricultural imports. But OCA’s Baden-Mayer says the Trump administration has not followed through on this. And it has maintained a zero percent tariff on Mexican avocado imports.
Kachuck hopes the lawsuits will raise wider awareness of the impacts of avocado growing in Mexico among the public and consumers, as well as at the government oversight level.
The cases are part of a wider trend of greenwashing litigation, which is increasingly challenging sustainability and carbon-neutrality claims. Earlier this year, one of the U.S.’s biggest sugar firms, Florida Crystals, and its parent company, the Fanjul Corporation, were accused of misleading consumers and endangering public health because they claim to follow environmentally friendly practices, yet undertake pre-harvest burning of crops.
While OCA is gratified that most of the avocado importers it originally sued have pledged to stop contributing to deforestation, Baden-Mayer notes that it is much easier to police false marketing claims than it is to make sure companies follow through on their commitments.
“So far, we’re pleased with the impact and outcome of the cases we’ve brought, but the future for the larger problem of deforestation is uncertain,” she said, recommending that consumers choose California-grown organic and Mexican-grown organic fruit from Equal Exchange when shopping.
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]]>The post Civil Eats Wins a James Beard Award for Coverage of Farmworker Heat Protections appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>On Saturday night, in Chicago, surrounded by peers in the food and journalism worlds, Civil Eats won a 2025 James Beard Foundation Media Award for excellence. Former Staff Reporter Grey Moran’s deeply reported story “Florida Banned Farmworker Heat Protections. A Groundbreaking Partnership Offers a Solution” came in first in the Health and Wellness category.
The Beard awards are widely considered to be the Oscars of the food world. The awards were established more than 30 years ago to honor the country’s top restaurants, chefs, cookbook authors, broadcasters, and journalists, and grew so large that the Media Awards is now a separate event, recognizing cookbooks, television shows, podcasts, print and online media, and more.
Moran’s incisive piece about Florida’s ban of farmworker heat protections explored the Fair Food Program (FFP), a successful grassroots effort to implement alternative protections for Florida farmworkers.
Former Staff Reporter Grey Moran accepts a James Beard Foundation Media Award on Saturday for their win in the Health and Wellness category.
We’ve long reported on the FFP, an initiative of the state’s legendary Coalition of Immokalee Workers, which helps build equity, respect, and transparency into the food supply chain. The farmworkers draft their own workplace safety rules, reflecting the hazards they face in the workplace, and they can report any violations to a third-party council that is available around the clock. Consumers who buy food with the FFP certification can rest assured that those farmworkers have a say in implementing and defending their own rights as the threat of extreme heat deepens.
As Florida’s ban on worker heat protections went into effect, our story helped build momentum for this groundbreaking solution—not just in Florida, but anywhere workers lack legal protections from extreme heat and other hazards.
Following publication of Moran’s piece, a wave of articles extolling the Fair Food Program began to appear, including in Modern Farmer, NPR, an NBC affiliate in Southwest Florida, USA Today, and the national Latino radio network Radio Bilingue. Moran also discussed the story on two radio programs: KALW Public Media and Food Sleuth Radio.
The Civil Eats team was also nominated in the Columns and Newsletters category for The Deep Dish, our members-only newsletter. We create and send one of these mini-magazines every six weeks or so, building each around a single theme, with deeply reported feature stories, follow-ups on previously reported stories, sneak peeks at what our editors and reporters are working on, and more.
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]]>The post Op-ed: Save California’s Crab Culture From Drowning in Regulations appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>It’s 5 a.m. when my alarm goes off. I roll out of bed and put on a long-sleeve shirt, a hoodie, a puffer jacket, and the thickest pants I own—it’s gonna be cold out there. My dad’s waiting for me in the kitchen with a tumbler of coffee, a piece of peanut butter toast, and a big smile on his face.
“Are you ready to bring home some crab?” he asks.
We drive to meet my grandpa on his boat, docked in the Sausalito harbor, 30 minutes north of San Francisco. It’s still dark out, but my grandfather’s energy says otherwise. The motor is already running, and we take off. Streaks of sunrise peek out from the horizon as we pass under the Golden Gate Bridge. The pots have been soaking, sitting on the ocean floor since yesterday morning, and they should be full of Dungeness crabs that fell for our delicious trap of stinky old chicken meat.
My grandpa, Stanley Ross, a self-identifying fisherman living in my hometown of Oakland, has fished these waters for over 40 years. Crabbing is more than a hobby for him, me, and other recreational fishers; it’s a cultural touchstone in the Bay Area, a way we connect to the natural rhythms of the region. Our winters and springs have been marked by celebratory crab dinners, friends and family squeezing around a dining room table covered with butter-stained newspapers.
My grandpa lets me drive the boat, and I feel alive as the ocean sprays my face and salty winds whip my long hair around. I see an eruption of misty white water in front of me and slow down. Suddenly, a dark mass rises from the blue sea, and a barnacle-covered tail gives a wave before it disappears into the waters below. A whale. I am in awe.
Crabbing reminds me that there is so much life beyond the land, and that I am a foreign visitor in the homes of these magnificent creatures. Crabbing also shapes my understanding of what it means to eat locally and sustainably—to close the gap between animal and consumer, to know the source of my food and the people who provide it.
Growing up alongside my grandpa, I have come to appreciate the ways that many recreational crabbers approach the practice, tossing back females and respecting the minimum size limit of 5 ¾ inches and daily catch limit of 10 crabs per person. No one is patrolling usually, but we honor these rules so that the little ones can grow up and reproduce, keeping the fishery healthy and productive.
But the crabbing culture is at risk of disappearing because of environmental regulations enacted to protect whales, and I am concerned that unless we take immediate and urgent action to balance sustainable crabbing with whale protection, we may lose this vital part of Bay Area culture.
It’s a complicated issue to be sure. Each year, a number of humpback whales get entangled in fishing and crabbing gear as they pass through California’s waters to and from tropical breeding grounds—gear from fisheries that put nets, lines, or other equipment into the ocean for long periods.
These unfortunate encounters, which can end with fin amputations, wounds, or painfully slow deaths, are increasing as humpback whales migrate closer to the coast, some even venturing into the Bay.
“It’s already hard as it is, but we are definitely getting choked out by the regulations.”
Intent on protecting this federally endangered species, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife has imposed harsh restrictions on the crab industry—like shortening the season and reducing the number of traps allowed—to minimize the risk of entanglement.
Historically, the Bay Area crabbing season has run from the first Saturday in November for recreational fishers and the second Tuesday in November for commercial, until June 30 for both. But for the sixth year in a row, the commercial season’s opening was delayed several months, and its end has been shortened.
This year, it closed two months early, on May 1, as dozens of humpback whales were spotted and another was found entangled in Monterey Bay. The recreational season still ends on June 30, but the use of crab traps is prohibited after May 15; hoop nets and crab snares, often trickier to use, are still allowed, though.
Before 2014, there were an average of 10 whale entanglements in fishing gear, including crab traps, per year off the U.S. West Coast. That number increased 400 percent to a historic high of 50 in 2015, prompting the creation of the California Dungeness Crab Fishing Gear Working Group.
It remains high. In 2024, for instance, 31 humpback whales were entangled in commercial fishing gear off the west coasts of the U.S., Canada, and Mexico, according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) Fisheries. Eleven of those were entangled in Dungeness crab pots. That number is higher than for any other year since 2018.
It is not well known why entanglements have increased, but there are likely several factors. For one, whale populations have been rebounding since 1986, when the International Whaling Commission adopted a temporary ban on commercial whaling that is still in place in most countries. It’s also likely due to increased public awareness of the issue and improved avenues for reporting, such as the West Coast Marine Mammal Stranding Network.
Climate change is also a factor: The warmer ocean waters near the shore attract krill and small schooling fish, and their 50-foot-long predators follow. This overlaps with Dungeness crab territory, which is within three miles of land.
Unfortunately, the regulations meant to protect whales are threatening to wipe out the livelihoods of small-scale fishers who are committed to crabbing sustainably.
The conflict between protecting endangered species and supporting vital cultures is at play in other places as well. In Alaska, where a plan aims to revive the Chinook salmon population by suspending all fishing activities in the Yukon River until 2030, Native leaders have expressed concern that their communities are disproportionately burdened.
The plan cuts off an essential cultural resource that has sustained Indigenous people in the area for thousands of years, and they were not properly consulted in its development, they say.
For small-scale commercial fishers like Willie Norton of Bolinas, California, the delays in the season start are not just inconvenient, they are financially ruinous.
“Opening later is bad for us,” Norton told me. “The holidays are when a lot of crab is sold, when everybody wants to eat crab. It hurts everybody quite a bit; the market loss is big.”
This season, the commercial fishery didn’t open until January 5, after the critical Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s holiday market had passed. Not only did fishermen have less time to crab, but they also were under a mandatory order to use 50 percent less gear.
A study from Nature estimates $13.6 million in annual losses across the California Dungeness crab fishery due to whale entanglement mitigation and other disturbances in the 2019 and 2020 seasons.
Norton prides himself on only using sustainable fishing practices—“all rod and reel, fishing one local spot,” he said—and selling only the highest quality seafood to the Bay Area.
“[It’s] already hard as it is, but we are definitely getting choked out [by the regulations],” he explained. “It’s a tough way to make a living.” Tough can quickly turn to deadly: The pressure to make every day of the shortened season count compels fishers to venture out even in the most dangerous conditions.
It’s not just the commercial sector that feels the blow. My grandpa laments the way crabbing has changed. “I looked forward to going recreational crabbing,” he said. “[Because of the regulations,] I could not use the traditional pots; I had to use a hoop net. It’s very difficult and it’s not enjoyable.”
Unlike a crab trap, a hoop net cannot be left to soak, must be pulled up every two hours, and relies on the chance that a crab will swim into the net, making the process more labor-intensive and less fruitful.
The Trump administration has pushed for broad deregulation of American fisheries, arguing that loosening restrictions will boost economic growth. But near-total deregulation is not the answer either.
No one, not even the fishers who suffer the greatest regulatory burden, wants to see whales harmed. Each entanglement is a tragedy, not to mention a violation of the federal Endangered Species Act, and regulations are important protections. After all, the commercial whaling moratorium is what allowed the population to rebound after being hunted to near extinction.
A solution is underway, and I would advocate that we need to support small-scale crabbers in being a part of it. Pop-up crab traps, a new technology, eliminate any chance of entanglement—a win-win situation for both fishers and whales.
Unlike traditional crab pots, which are constantly tethered to a buoy by unattended lines, these traps are ropeless and use a remote-controlled, acoustic release system to bring traps from the ocean floor to the surface. This experimental gear is currently being tested locally just south of Pigeon Point in California, supported by the conservation group Oceana.
But because this technology is expensive, without financial support small fishers will be left behind as the “big guys” advance. Norton put it plainly: “If they require the parachute traps [pop-up gear], most local fishermen will be choked out.”
The Center for Biological Diversity is petitioning the federal government to require trap fisheries to convert to ropeless gear by 2026. I would like to expand on that petition: the U.S. Department of Commerce must also provide funding to help small-scale fishers—who have already invested tens of thousands of dollars in their traditional equipment— make this transition to whale-safe gear.
Stanley Ross’s boat, the Slam V, heads back to dock at the Sausalito Yacht Harbor. Why the V? Author Ross says, “It’s named for Stanley, Lloyd (my dad), Amanda (my aunt), and Martha (my grandma). It is a 1972 Betram 38 foot. My grandpa bought it as a salvage in the late ’80s; it was partially submerged and he completely restored it.”
As consumers, we can also change how we shop for crab. If we do not want to see a seafood market dominated by corporations with less accountability and care for the ecosystem, we must buy local, seasonal crab from trusted, small-scale fishers.
And we must support restaurants and markets that prioritize sustainable sourcing. The Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch is a helpful tool for people hoping to be more conscious consumers.
The future of the Bay Area’s crabbing culture depends on our ability to regulate with nuance and balance—recognizing that true ecological stewardship means protecting both marine wildlife and the human communities who live in harmony with them.
After that crab harvest with my grandpa, we sat around the dinner table with my family, cracking into the shells and slurping out every last succulent morsel. The impressive sight of the whale I had seen that morning was still at the forefront of my mind.
I believe that whales and fishers are not enemies. We are all part of an interconnected web that makes the beautiful, bountiful meal we shared possible.
Ross is an undergraduate student in Liz Carlisle’s course, “Food, Agriculture, and the Environment,” offered this spring at the University of California Santa Barbara. Civil Eats partnered with Carlisle on writing and editing guidance for this story.
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]]>The post Farmworker Youth Take to the Streets as Deportations and Displacement Threaten Their Parents appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>This is the second of two articles about the strawberry workers of Santa Maria. Read the first story here. All photos by David Bacon.
Santa Maria’s city center, with its gritty mix of old Western-wear stores and chain mall outlets, is the place where the valley’s farmworker marches always start or end. A grassy knoll in a small park, at the intersection of Broadway and Main, provides a natural stage for people to talk to a crowd stretching into the parking lot and streets beyond.
This March 30, the day before Cesar Chavez’s birthday, a high school student named Cesar Vasquez walked up the rise. He was surrounded by other young protesters, all from Santa Maria farmworker families, 80 percent of whom are undocumented. He turned to face the several hundred marchers who’d paused there, and began reciting a stream of consciousness poem, fierce gestures punctuating his emotion-filled words. The noisy crowd before him grew silent.
“If we don’t work hard, the supervisors say we will be replaced, they will send in the H-2As.”
“We’re meant to work in the fields,” he cried out. “[And told,] ‘Don’t be too loud because then you’re seen as just the angry brown kid ’ . . . The system has pushed us onto our knees into the rows of dirt where the berries lie. We are tired of being called essential workers but not even treated as essential humans . . . We are going to do something about it . . . We can no longer be suffocated. It is our time to breathe, our time to rise, our time to fight!”
Brave words, given that he’d helped organize the day’s march to counter pervasive fear in Santa Maria of immigration raids and detentions and worry over how growers are hiring more and more temporary guest workers from the H-2A visa program.
Concepcion Chavez, who went on strike briefly in 2024, described that impact. “The company always keeps them [the H-2 workers] separate from us. If we don’t work hard, the supervisors say we will be replaced, they will send in the H-2As.”
Top: Cesar Vasquez shouts out his poem to the crowd of marchers on March 30. Center: Two young women listen to Vasquez speak at the march. Bottom: At the march, a boy from a Mixteco (Mexican Indigenous) farmworker family with a hand-drawn portrait of Cesar Chavez.
As Vasquez spoke, the strawberry season was just getting underway—the time of year when people depend on going back to work after months of winter and unemployment. Instead of relief, however, most farmworkers this year have found themselves swinging between fear of being picked up by “la migra” on their way to work and anger that wages haven’t gone up despite the sharp rise in rents and grocery bills.
Normally, that anger would have resulted in work stoppages. Groups of strawberry pickers often withhold their labor at the beginning of the season to negotiate better piece rates with the Santa Maria Valley’s big growers. So far this year, however, there have been no strikes or slowdowns. The number of workers participating in marches like the one on March 30 for Chavez’s birthday, and a second on May Day, has dropped from previous years.
Hazel Davalos, co-executive director of the Central Coast Alliance United for a Sustainable Economy (CAUSE), says her organization has collected reports of about 40 undocumented farmworkers detained in Santa Barbara and Ventura Counties since President Trump took office.
Of any city, “Santa Maria has been hit the hardest,” she says. “Because of our know-your-rights work, it’s hard for ICE [Immigration and Customs Enforcement] agents to catch people at home, so they concentrate enforcement in public spaces.”
After the know-your-rights training, people understood they didn’t have to open their doors to ICE agents, so now the agents wait for people to leave home. “And while they have warrants for specific people, they often go beyond those names,” she said. “In a recent case, when they couldn’t find one man, they took his brother. The impact is a day-to-day fear in the community. Schools report children are afraid to come to class.”
At the beginning of the march, a volunteer passes out “red cards,” part of a know-your-rights campaign to help immigrants facing enforcement agents.
Francisco Lozano, a longtime activist in the community of Mixteco (Indigenous Mexican) farmworkers here, says, “They follow the cars of individuals they’re looking for, but if they don’t find the person, they’ll take some else. They wait outside homes and stop people when they leave to go to work.”
ICE has not responded to requests from Civil Eats for information on detentions in Santa Maria.
According to Fernando Martinez, an organizer for the Mixteco Indigenous Community Organizing Project, as the strawberry picking starts, “Our people are having to risk going to work, to pay their rent and for their basic needs,” he said. “But they go with the fear of not coming back home to their kids.”
“A lot of people have kids and they’ve been here for 15 or 20 years. This is what people consider home.”
That fear can make workers more reluctant to demand higher wages and better conditions. “It especially affects them when employers threaten to call immigration if they start organizing. It’s a big fear,” he said. “No one wants to get sent back to the country they left for a better future. A lot of people have kids and they’ve been here for 15 or 20 years. This is what people consider home.”
One purpose of the marches, therefore, is to push back against panic. This year, the key to their success has been the willingness of children who are documented to protest on behalf of their undocumented parents.
On February 18, Vasquez and his friends organized a walkout of 400 students in three high schools, three middle schools, and the local Hancock Community College to protest the threat of immigration raids. They demanded a two-mile safe zone around every high school, and even teachers participated. “Some kids marched five miles, for over two hours,” he says.
According to Vasquez, over three quarters of the students at Santa Maria High School come from immigrant families, and half have worked in the fields themselves. They were motivated not just by deportation threats, but also by the unrecognized sacrifice of their parents.
“For my whole life my mom and dad would leave home at 3 a.m. and get back at 7 p.m.,” he says. “They’re always working to make ends meet and always stressed out at the end of the month trying to meet the rent.”
A farmworker family at a 2024 march in Santa Maria, demanding a living wage. One sign reads, “Rent very high. Pay very cheap.”
This year, there’s fresh urgency motivating these young protesters: Those long, exhausting workdays are harder to get. “Many of us have no work or only get four or five hours before we’re sent home,” Lozano says. When workers go out to a field to ask a foreman or a labor contractor for a job, he says, they’re often turned away. Increasingly, people fear being displaced from jobs they’ve depended on for years. These longterm, experienced workers are the lifeblood of agriculture in the Santa Maria Valley.
Three farmworkers living in Santa Maria walk out of a field, after having been told by the foreman of a crew picking strawberries that there was no work for them.
At the same time, rents are rising and there are fewer available places to live. Both work and housing pressures, say local labor organizers, can be traced to an important element of the administration’s immigration policy: increasing the numbers of H-2A guest workers.
The number of seasonal workers recruited from Mexico to labor in Santa Maria Valley fields, on temporary H-2A visas, has been growing every year. That increase is part of a national trend. Twenty years ago, the Department of Labor (DOL) issued 48,336 certifications to growers for workers brought to the United States with H-2A work visas.
In 2017, Trump’s first year in office, growers received 200,049 certifications, and in Biden’s last year, 2024, they received 384,900. The total number of farmworkers in the U.S. is about 2 million, and today, almost a fifth are temporary workers on H-2A visas.
H-2A workers, almost all of whom are young men, are often not treated fairly. They must sign contracts for a maximum of 10 months per year, after which they have to return home, usually to Mexico. They can only work for the grower who recruits them, and can be fired for protesting, organizing, or simply working too slowly.
Fired workers lose their visas and must leave the country and then are usually blacklisted by recruiters. This makes them very vulnerable to pressure and illegal conditions.
In some states, the number of H-2A workers now exceeds the number of local workers. In Florida, with its anti-immigrant and anti-farmworker laws, growers’ 47,416 H-2A certifications last year covered over half of the 80,821 people employed on its farms. Georgia’s 43,436 certifications were for over three-quarters of its 55,990 farm laborers.
In Santa Barbara County, where Santa Maria is located, and in neighboring San Luis Obispo County, the total number of farmworkers is close to 25,000. The Employer Data Hub of the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, which verifies employers’ visa applications for H-2A workers, lists 29 growers and labor contractors employing a total of 8,140 workers, or at least a quarter of all the farmworkers in the two-county area. This is the highest concentration of H-2A workers in California.
The threats from the Trump administration of increased immigration enforcement have been accompanied by movements within farm groups—who strongly backed Trump’s election—to make it easier for growers to use the H-2A system, including by lowering wages and softening housing requirements. In 2020, in Trump’s first term in office, then Agriculture Secretary Sonny Perdue emphasized the government’s support for more H-2A workers. “That’s what agriculture needs, and that’s what we want,” he said at the time.
In her nomination hearing, Trump’s current secretary of agriculture, Brooke Rollins, told Congress that she’d modernize the H-2A program to “make sure that none of these farms or dairy producers are put out of business [by immigration enforcement].”
“There is a growing competition between the new migrants (the H-2A) and the old (the settled Mexican families).”
In his last term, Trump froze the wages of H-2A workers for two years, in effect lowering them because federal regulations would have required increasing them annually. The administration estimated that the move saved growers $170 million each year. In addition, Trump allowed growers to access, for H2-A housing, funds that had been earmarked for year-round farmworker housing.
He also allowed growers to use, for H-2A workers, the federal labor camps started in the 1930s for housing farmworker families at affordable rents financed by USDA.
In Santa Maria, the increase in H-2A employment is connected to the growth of the strawberry industry. According to a report by Marcos Lopez, a staff member at the U.C. Davis Community and Labor Center, over half of the H-2A certifications in California come from the five counties that are the heart of the state’s strawberry industry, which produces 84 percent of all strawberries in the country.
“The H-2A program grows where the strawberry industry is growing,” Lopez says. While the H-2A wage is higher than the state’s minimum wage ($19.97 per hour versus $16.50), the productivity of H-2A workers is higher because growers recruit young men and then require them to work at a fast rate in order to keep their jobs. This is particularly important in strawberries because it is a highly labor-intensive crop.
As growers bring in the H-2A workers, Santa Maria farmworkers are feeling the impact–in terms of less work, rising rents, and inadequate wages.
Many local Santa Maria farmworkers, themselves immigrants (the majority undocumented) who have been living and working in the valley for years, say they are often sent home after working only four or five hours, and that they can’t get steady work every day. Since they rely on the strawberry season to save enough to get through the leaner months of winter, the loss of hours can reverberate through the rest of the year.
In a study of the social impact of the H-2A program in Salinas, demographer Rick Mines predicted that “the older settled workers will be getting less work as their younger co-nationals [the H-2A] replace them in the fields.” That is how the H-2A program is likely to play out in Santa Maria as well, according to Martinez and others.
Mines also looked at housing conditions in Salinas. “There is a growing competition between the new migrants [the H-2A] and the old [settled Mexican families]. This competition affects the availability of housing as the older migrants face higher prices and increased crowding in the apartments where most live.”
A strawberry picker, her son, and other members of her family sleep in one room in their Santa Maria apartment.
Similar pressures exist in Santa Maria. Growers are obligated to provide housing to H-2A workers, and in Santa Maria, in addition to housing those workers in complexes, the growers also rent houses in working-class neighborhoods. That has led to steep rises in rents, as growers outbid residents for leases.
“I rent my house for $3,000,” explains Francisco Lozano, “but the grower can pay $4,000 or $5,000 and put four people in each bedroom and the living room.”
In 2019, Santa Maria passed an ordinance requiring growers to obtain permits to house H-2A workers in neighborhoods with single-family homes. According to earlier reporting by the Santa Maria Sun, Jason Sharrett, representing the California Strawberry Commission in a city council meeting, called the ordinance unnecessary and “based on erroneous findings.”
Alexandra Allen, another grower, told the Sun she would have to use two units to house 12 workers instead of one, incurring greater costs. The U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development (under the Trump administration) threatened to sue the city for discrimination, and, according to reporting from the Santa Maria Times, the city withdrew the ordinance.
The rising number of H-2A workers means growers don’t have to raise wages to attract workers. As Martinez points out, “The price they’re paying per box of berries this year is too low—$2.30, the same as last year and the year before. But the cost of living has gone up a lot, so in effect, wages have gone down.”
Last December, according to the Santa Maria Times, MICOP and CAUSE asked Santa Barbara County to consider an ordinance that would set a $26 per hour minimum wage, and increase piece rates per box enough to guarantee that minimum. In response, the Times reported, Claire Wineman, president of Grower-Shipper Association of Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo counties, told supervisors, “The economic realities do not support any local minimum wage increase, much less $26 per hour.”
“Without fair wages, the farmworkers will remain trapped in a cycle of poverty,” farmworker Reynaldo Marino said at the same hearing. “The real solution is an increase of wages.”
Cesar Vasquez sees workers walking and riding bikes from one of the big H-2A housing complexes a near his home. He says they’ve told him that three or four workers sleep in each bedroom, and that the food provided is often bad. “But they’re not going to march or protest with us because they know they can be sent back to Mexico any time,” he says. “I think the companies are just testing how low they can go.”
In 2017, the city of Santa Maria filed suit against a local landlord, Dario Pini, over extreme violations of health and housing codes in hundreds of apartments in eight complexes. One of them was the North Broadway complex. According to Noozhawk, a Santa Barbara County newspaper, city inspectors cited Pini for “deteriorated concrete walkways, accumulated trash, abandoned inoperable vehicles, plumbing leaks, unpermitted construction work, bedbug infestation, cockroach infestation, lack of hot water, faulty and hazardous electrical systems and broken windows, and missing window screens.”
The violations of H-2A workers’ rights continue. One case, State of California vs. Alco Harvest, claims that thousands of workers were not legally paid. Alco is the largest H-2A employer in the two-county area. Alco did not respond to requests for comment.
Corrie Meals, an attorney for California Rural Legal Assistance (CRLA) in Santa Maria, a party to the Alco case, believes that the state’s enforcement of the labor rights of H-2A workers is weak. “We try to avoid the Department of Labor,” she says, describing CRLA’s efforts on behalf of workers, “and there is little effective enforcement from the state housing and employment departments as well.”
The Department of Labor (DOL) is also responsible for enforcing the requirement that growers and contractors try to hire local residents before recruiting H-2A workers, and that they pay local workers at least as much as the imported laborers. However, in 2019, out of 11,472 employers using the H-2A program, the DOL only filed cases of violations against 431 employers, and of them, 26 were barred from recruiting for three years, with an average fine of $109,098.
The state Employment Development Department and DOL are jointly responsible for verifying that employers have made a good-faith effort to recruit local workers, but attorney Meals says they are allowed to simply post jobs on a website.
That lack of enforcement is likely to get worse. Over 2,700 DOL employees, or 20 percent of its workforce, have left the department in the wake of Trump executive orders and job cutting by Elon Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency.
“God only knows how much smaller it will be when the RIFs [reductions in force] are announced,” one anonymous agency worker told The Guardian. DOL’s new chief of staff, Jihum Han, has threatened criminal charges against any department worker who speaks to the press.
Meanwhile, the California Department of Housing and Community Development has only three inspectors for all employer-provided housing in the state, including that for H-2A workers. In 2022, it failed to issue a single citation for illegal conditions and issued permits without making inspections.
In response to an investigation by CalMatters, department spokesperson Pablo Espinoza blamed budget shortfalls for lack of staffing. Nevertheless, he said, “the system seems to be working . . . Nothing is ever perfect.”
Karen Ross, Secretary of the California Department of Food and Agriculture, was the keynote speaker at the Santa Maria Strawberry Industry Recognition Dinner this year, held at the Fairpark in April and sponsored by the Santa Maria Valley Chamber of Commerce. Driscolls, the largest strawberry company in the world, received the Industry Partner of the Year.
Ross expressed concern about federal immigration enforcement policies, and told the grower audience, “We’re very hopeful that there will be bipartisan efforts to really focus on making the H-2A program work better.”
A 2024 march for higher wages passed in front of the Santa Maria Fairpark, where the strawberry festival was organized by growers to celebrate the beginning of the picking season.
In many ways, Santa Maria’s farmworkers, both local and H-2A, seem to be on their own. Yet despite the fear generated by immigration detentions, the labor violations, and, for local workers, the lack of work, Martinez believes that this spring’s marches have had an impact.
“They’re the way to empower our community and make people feel they’re not alone,” he explains. “We have to encourage them, wherever they are, to continue organizing, to take collective action to protect each other and to stand together. That’s how changes are made. It is the only way.”
Vasquez also thinks the community’s young people are ready. “A lot more kids are rising up to the occasion,” he says. “Some never spoke to a politician before, but now they’re losing their fear.”
The post Farmworker Youth Take to the Streets as Deportations and Displacement Threaten Their Parents appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Helping Ramps Flourish Through Forest Farming appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Near the banks of the Delaware River in northeast Pennsylvania, Steven Schwartz, his silver hair tied back beneath his hat, is searching for a seed. It’s ramp season, and finding one of the tiny black pellets is like searching for a needle in an endless green haystack. For a ramp farmer like Schwartz, the seeds are a critical indicator that the population is healthy and multiplying.
At 71, Schwartz has learned plenty about these wild alliums since he moved here in 2006—and he’s eager to share.
In early May, the woods all around him are carpeted with lush green ramp leaves, clumped so tightly together it’s hard to tell one plant from the next. At last, he finds what he’s been looking for and takes a seat on a fallen log. As a woodpecker hammers in the distance, he picks up a dried seed head, left over from last year.
“This,” he said, “is what it’s all about.”
The ramp, a spring ephemeral that has become the most popular of dozens of wild alliums native to North America, grows across the Midwest and Eastern United States, particularly in the Great Lakes region and throughout the Appalachian range. Similar plants can be found in deciduous temperate forests around the world, including in Europe and East Asia, where the victory onion and Siberian onion, respectively, prosper. Other cousins flourish in the western U.S., especially the Pacific Northwest, including Brandegee’s onion and the swamp onion. But none have developed the ramp’s reputation as a beacon of spring.
Within their fleeting window of availability, foragers and consumers prize ramps for pickling, grilling, pesto, or any adventurous way to enjoy their gentle bite. Here in Pennsylvania, their leaves peek out in April, and by late May they have begun to deteriorate, turning yellow and dying back to make way for a flower stalk. In some regions, the season can stretch to June. The early summer blooms develop seeds by the end of the summer, which eventually fall to the ground as one of the plant’s two modes of reproduction, the other being bulb division.
“It’s the test of the hypothesis that you can eat your ramp and plant it, too. And it looks like it’ll work.”
Every spring, dozens of visitors come to Delaware Valley Ramps, Schwartz’s wooded 20-acre property in Equinunk, to pick the glossy, garlicky greens that are the first to emerge after winter’s thaw. Schwartz offers his wisdom on respectful harvesting to visitors who pay $65 to pick ramps for two hours. He asks them to take only those with three leaves, which are more mature than those with one or two, so they all have a chance to reproduce before they’re picked.
He waits until later in the season to allow harvesting, because larger plants require fewer to make a pound, leaving more in the ground to sustain the patch. He also urges visitors to take only one from each clump so that none is overburdened, and he rotates through several patches to keep them all thriving.
It’s the least he can do to protect the population he found in abundance on his property when he bought it, lured by the Delaware River’s revered wild trout fishery. Although his land has no shortage of ramps, their future elsewhere is under pressure.
In the early 1990s, after Martha Stewart first sang their praises and fine-dining chefs began putting ramps on seasonal spring menus, demand soared, especially in urban centers where they often sell for $25 per pound or more. Eager foragers fanned out into the woods, and it wasn’t long before concerns grew about population decline.
The whole plant is delicious, but every bulb removed from the earth is one less to sustain the wild population. For years, conservationists have worried that avid harvesting of bulbs will endanger a plant whose value is as much cultural as it is commercial.
In both Indigenous and Appalachian communities, ramps are celebrated as a sign of spring with medicinal properties that can revive the spirit after a long, hard winter. Horticulturalists and ramp enthusiasts are working to better understand where and why they flourish and how humans can encourage their proliferation before it’s too late.
For more than a decade, Schwartz’s land has been a “living laboratory” for research conducted by Eric Burkhart, an ethnobotany and agroforestry teaching professor at the Penn State College of Agricultural Sciences, where he studies the conservation and management of forest products. His conclusions are in a paper, published last fall in the journal Wild, about the habitats most favorable for ramps: rich, deep soil on north- and east-facing slopes, with an abundance of sugar maple or bitternut hickory nearby to supply calcium and moisture for growth—much like Schwartz’s land along the Delaware River.
Although ramps grow wild, they’re often tended by property owners and harvesters, like Schwartz, who practice forest farming, which Burkhart describes as the cultivation and management of non-timber products under a forest canopy. Ramps and other forest foods are “the crack people can look through to get excited about their forests, rather than just seeing them as a source of timber revenue,” he said. And unlike most forest products, consumers already crave ramps, so expanding their supply can help harvesters meet demand while ensuring the plant population isn’t depleted.
Steven Schwartz takes notes while observing the characteristics of ramps growing in one of six test plots. (Photo credit: Ben Seal)
Schwartz’s land is a suitable place to explore the potential of forest farming, because his methods are clearly working: His land now produces more ramps than ever. He’s seeing new patches flourishing on the property where none had grown before, which means their range is expanding, possibly due to the seeds being dispersed more widely by turkeys and other wildlife.
Today, his property includes a half-dozen 6-by-8-foot plots dedicated to studying whether ramps can be successfully regrown after they’re harvested by replanting the base of their bulbs. The study, designed and run by Schwartz in collaboration with Burkhart and still funded by a Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education producer grant from the U.S. Department of Agriculture, aims to help balance productive yields with long-term conservation.
“It’s the test of the hypothesis that you can eat your ramp and plant it, too,” Schwartz said as he surveyed the ramps in one of the study plots. “And it looks like it’ll work.”
Ramps have long been an important wild food for Indigenous cultures, often consumed therapeutically to treat colds, earaches, and infections. They are welcomed as the first green vegetable in the spring to replenish vitamins and nutrients after a winter of dried and preserved foods.
Karelle Hall, an assistant professor of anthropology at the University of Massachusetts at Boston and a member of the Nanticoke Tribe of Delaware, visited Schwartz’s property this spring as part of a broader effort to relearn ancestral traditions and get more people in her community to engage with ramps and other culturally significant foods, she said. A cousin who joined her that day operates the Native Roots Farm Foundation, focused on reconnecting Indigenous communities with their plant relatives.
Although she’d purchased them before at farmers’ markets, it was Hall’s first time harvesting ramps herself. It felt particularly significant to do so right beside the headwaters of the Delaware River, which supported the Nanticoke and Lenape tribes in pre-colonial times, she said. With her harvest, she made soups and stews, ramp butter to eat with a venison roast, and ramp salt that she’ll share with relatives to strengthen her community’s connection to the plant.
The approach to harvesting that she saw at Delaware Valley Ramps echoes the practices central to Indigenous relationships with the natural world, she said. The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, for example, advocate taking just the leaves so bulbs can continue to propagate.
The gentle manipulation of a landscape can help a plant species feel more at home, encouraging it to grow into the space it’s allowed, Hall explained, as long as one rule is always followed: “Never deplete it to the point that it can’t repopulate itself.”
Jeanine Davis, an associate professor in horticultural science at North Carolina State University, has kept that principle in mind for more than 30 years, ever since a botanist in her state government asked for her help studying ramps as concerns grew about their declining population.
Within a decade, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, straddling North Carolina and Tennessee, made ramp harvesting illegal; three national parks in West Virginia followed suit in 2022. Although studies on the subject are scant, Burkhart said populations have diminished over time, but in Pennsylvania, at least, the issue is not overharvesting but the fact that favorable ramp habitats have been developed for other uses.
“Someday, if we continue doing this, we won’t have ramps. It would be one more piece of the forest that’s gone.”
Back when she started studying ramps, Davis said the general consensus was that they couldn’t be cultivated, but she helped show they can indeed be grown, given the right conditions—including slightly acidic, moist soil and sufficient shade. She’s now researching how different harvest practices—say, the number of leaves or portion of a bulb taken—affect a population.
In addition to her work with the plants themselves, Davis has studied the role they play in the mountain communities that have celebrated ramps for generations. There, she said, they are “like a spring tonic,” rich in nutrients and minerals, including vitamins A and C. A 2000 study, she noted, found that thanks to their naturally high quantities of selenium, ramps have the potential to reduce cancer in humans.
Davis remembers the “mind-boggling” volume of ramps she saw the first time she attended one of many annual festivals in Richwood, West Virginia, about 25 years ago. “Pickup truck after pickup truck full of them,” she recalled. She was impressed by how the festival was truly a community effort, with the entire town seemingly involved in some way.
In time, though, as ramps gained broader popularity, “What we’d always thought of as a food for country people, hunters, and fishermen was suddenly a gourmet item,” she said. Although she’s enjoyed seeing more people appreciate the plant, its success poses a challenge for conservation efforts.
On Schwartz’s property, ramps are part of a spring understory populated by fiddlehead ferns, morel mushrooms, and flowering trilliums and bloodroot—the type of biological diversity that indicates a healthy forest ecosystem, according to James Chamberlain, a retired research scientist with the U.S. Forest Service who studied ramps for 25 years. Given the ramp’s fickle growth habits, its presence in a landscape suggests a stable and supportive tree canopy and healthy soil.
Steve Schwartz considers himself an accidental forager. Eighteen years ago, he bought a property in Equinunk, Pennsylvania, to gain access to the Delaware River’s vaunted wild trout fishing. Then he discovered ramps growing abundantly on his property and has been selling them since 2008. (Photo credit: Ben Seal)
But Chamberlain worries that ramps may soon go the way of ginseng, another plant once abundant in the Appalachians that he said has been “genetically extirpated from the forest” by unsustainable harvest practices.
“Someday, if we continue doing this, we won’t have ramps,” Chamberlain said. “It would be one more piece of the forest that’s gone.”
However, a 2019 paper that Chamberlain co-authored in Biological Conservation suggested wild cultivation and good stewardship practices could reverse that trend in ginseng and other wild-harvested plants like ramps. He believes forest farming can be part of supporting the sustainability of ramps and other wild plants, when done right. But doing so requires careful and respectful management of a patch that allows it to sustain itself.
“We get up in arms about cutting old-growth timber,” Chamberlain said, “but think nothing about harvesting old-growth ramps.”
For his part, Burkhart wants more people to engage with the landscapes around them, particularly through forest farming, which he believes can harness the woods’ “tremendous potential” to support our food systems. In a state like Pennsylvania that’s nearly 60 percent forested, managing a greater share of the land in an intentional way and utilizing its products can create income sources while promoting conservation, Burkhart said. He also studies ginseng as well as goldenseal, used in herbal medicines.
“We have a whole suite of wild species that people either forage or forget about, but they deserve close examination and consideration as new crops,” Burkhart said.
Despite conventional wisdom about how to sustainably harvest ramps—some suggest taking only the leaves, while others limit themselves to one-tenth of a patch—there is still little actual evidence to guide foragers and forest farmers. The study on Schwartz’s land, which began in 2023, aims to deliver that evidence. This was his second season observing the growth of ramps whose bulbs were replanted in the ground after being harvested.
Using variables including the number of leaves at the time of harvest, the point in the season when harvest occurred, and the amount of bulb that was replanted, he’s studying how well they bounce back year over year. So far, the most mature bulbs appear to have the strongest rate of return.
“What’s going to be best for this plant, for the forest, and for all the other beings sharing the ecosystem?”
Once the study is complete, Burkhart wants to expand it to other locations across the state to develop more certainty about the findings and their implications. Schwartz says replanting bulbs in the past has helped him develop new ramp patches, suggesting that further understanding of favorable sites and successful conservation techniques can make a meaningful difference.
For Hall, the Indigenous anthropologist, the vibrant ramp patches in Equinunk hold the promise that more members of her community can engage with the plant and share some of the same excitement she felt. But when it comes to the conservation and management of a food found on the forest floor, she offers a reminder that there are always deeper layers to consider.
Hall’s work focuses on language revitalization, including the conversion of the Nanticoke language into writing. She’s still working on a full translation of the ramp’s name, pumptukwahkii ooleepunak, but she says it conjures the process of a plant popping out of the ground. Like the names of many other plants with a bulb or root system, it’s referred to in Nanticoke as a living being—a who rather than a what. We should remember this as we harvest ramps, she said.
“It’s not just about what’s going to be best for us in this situation,” said Hall. “What’s going to be best for this plant, for the forest, and for all the other beings sharing the ecosystem?”
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]]>The post Warming Waters Cause Invasion of Sea Squirts at Maine Fisheries appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In the summer of 2020, Alicia Gaiero began to realize that sea squirts were putting the success of her new oyster farm in jeopardy. She and her two sisters, Amy and Chelsea, were working together to fulfill their dream of a family aquaculture business, Nauti Sisters Sea Farm, in Yarmouth, Maine.
But the critical work of flipping oyster cages—turning them over to combat biofouling and introduce sunlight and air to the bottom—had become impossible. They couldn’t even lift some of them, even though they were made of hollow plastic mesh.
In large numbers, sea squirts—some as large as a pair of tube socks, some smaller than a pinky ring—are surprisingly heavy, and are impacting lobster, oyster, and other fisheries.
The cages were covered and also filled with the globby bodies of sea squirts, invasive marine invertebrates that thrive in the warming waters of the Gulf of Maine and along the coasts of Alaska and the western United States. In large numbers, sea squirts—some as large as a pair of tube socks, some smaller than a pinky ring—are surprisingly heavy, and are impacting lobster, oyster, and other fisheries.
Gaiero had heard that sea squirts could be challenging, but this was out of control. “I’d never seen anything like it,” she says.
By the next season, she felt overwhelmed. “This was ruining my life.”
There are now over 150 independently owned oyster farms in Maine, in part thanks to investment by the state. Under the glistening, still surface of the water, nearly every line and buoy marking a trap or cage is encased with gooey sea squirts—formally known as tunicates, for the tunic-like sheath of fleshy cellulose that covers their siphons, which suck in and filter sea water. The nickname “sea squirts” comes from the fact that they often squirt water when they’re disturbed.
Tunicates, commonly known as sea squirts, are a problem for commercial shellfish farmers, as they glom onto cages and the shellfish themselves. Here, tunicates cover an oyster cage in Casco Bay in Maine. (Photo credit: Alicia Gaiero/Nauti Sisters Sea Farm)
For more than 500 million years, tunicates have existed as simple creatures clinging to underwater substrates and filter feeding on plankton and bacteria. There are hundreds of subspecies. Some have inhabited the Gulf of Maine since the 1800s, arriving in the ballast waters of ships from distant seas; new subspecies have come from Europe and Asia in oyster seed and on cruise ships.
As tunicates spread across oyster cages, mooring lines, and buoys, they add incredible weight, turning a 5-pound oyster cage into an unmanageable 100-pound obstacle. As they proliferate, they compete with bivalves—oysters, mussels, and scallops—for resources and can eventually choke them out entirely. A bivalve covered in globby tunicates can no longer open its shell to feed, and will eventually starve to death.
They were only a mild nuisance to Maine’s working waterfronts until the past decade, when their populations started to soar.
“The biggest thing driving this invasion,” explains Jeremy Miller, research associate and coordinator of the System Wide Monitoring Program at Wells Reserve, “is the warming Gulf of Maine. The Gulf of Maine is getting warmer and warmer every year. Ever since about 2012, we have been going in one direction, and we haven’t had an anomalously cool year since 2007.” According to the Gulf of Maine Research Institute, sea surface temperatures in the gulf have been steadily rising at an average of 0.84° F annually, roughly three times that of the world’s oceans.
The Wells Reserve team researches and tracks changes to the environment along the Wells Estuarine Research Reserve, monitoring changes year on year and sharing their findings with the broader scientific community. (Although they are concerned about potential federal cuts to their overall funding, their studies on invasive species receives private foundation money.) The warming waters have had profound impacts on Maine’s fisheries and waterfronts, from the disappearance of Northern shrimp to more frequent flooding events, including so-called “blue sky flooding” in the coastal city of Portland. And those rising temperatures are now driving a sea squirt population boom.
Internal anatomy of a tunicate (Urochordata). Adapted, with permission, from an outline drawing available on BIODIDAC.
Tunicates thrive and spread faster with warmer ocean temperatures. And the rising number of aquaculture farms are providing plentiful structures to which sea squirts can attach themselves and grow.
And there are other factors as well. “The Gulf of Maine, compared to a lot of other parts of the world, is actually fairly low in diversity,” says Larry Harris, Professor Emeritus of Biology Sciences at the University of New Hampshire and co-author of UNH studies on tunicates and warming ocean temperatures. Harris explains that development along the coast of Maine has created the perfect ecosystem for tunicates, with new docks and moorings offering an abundance of substrates for them to attach to in addition to aquaculture farms. Also, tunicates have few true predators in the Gulf of Maine, and overfishing has reduced the number.
Because tunicates are effective filter feeders that grow extremely quickly, they can reproduce alarmingly fast; certain species can double their populations in as little as 8 hours. Some species are considered “colonial,” growing in a super-organism, like coral. Others are called “solitary,” but often appear in clusters and groups because their offspring do not travel far.
And they are not easy to destroy. Cutting a tunicate off a line and throwing it back into the sea doesn’t kill it; a new tunicate will grow from the dismembered piece.
Instead, aquaculture farmers and lobstermen are encouraged to deal with tunicates by desiccation: hauling out traps, lines, and buoys and leaving them in the sun until they fully dry out, which kills the sea squirts. For oyster farmers, combating tunicates means regularly flipping, or “tumbling” the oyster cages to expose the tunicates to the sun.
The Gulf of Maine has a particularly intense tunicate infestation because it’s heating faster than other bodies of water.
The impact of tunicates extends beyond oyster farms. As part of his work at the Wells Reserve, Jeremy Miller manages the Marine Invader Monitoring and Information Collaborative. Traveling to different working waterfronts and Maine islands, he’s found lobstermen complaining about tunicates covering their traps, and hears of mussel farmers whose lines have snapped from the sheer weight of the tunicate blobs. Moreover, the diet of a tunicate—nutrients filtered from seawater—is similar to that of shellfish, reducing resources for native filter feeders.
“People are kind of shocked at the amount of actual biomass of these things,” Miller says. “From a biological standpoint, these are taking nutrients—it takes a lot of stuff to grow that biomass, and it’s all stuff that other things could be using. That creates a big impact on aquaculture.”
The Gulf of Maine has a particularly intense tunicate infestation because it’s heating faster than other bodies of water. But global ocean temperatures are all rising, and tunicates have become a nearly worldwide problem. Three species have appeared in the Puget Sound area of Washington State. Invasive tunicates have even been discovered in the waters off Sitka, Alaska.
A few radical solutions to the tunicate invasion are in the works. A Norwegian company, Pronofa ASA, has perfected a method for turning the meat of the sea squirt genus Ciona, now common in Maine, into mincemeat for human consumption, much like ground beef.
While not all tunicates are edible, many of the varieties currently invading Maine’s coast are, including clubbed tunicate and members of the Ciona species. Tunicate meat is slightly chewy, reminiscent of calamari. Wild tunicate does look unappetizing, however. The fleshy tubes growing in Maine’s waters are brownish, barrel shaped, and flaccid.
A display of sea pineapples (hoya, known as 海鞘 and 老海鼠in Japanese) at a market. These sea creatures are a delicacy in Japanese cuisine, prized for their unique texture and oceanic flavor, and are often served in sashimi or other traditional dishes. (Photo credit: DigiPub, Getty Images)
It can be a struggle to convince consumers to eat these creatures. But in some parts of the world, they’re a welcome food.
“In Asia, they eat the club tunicate,” explains Larry Harris, University of New Hampshire Professor of Biological Science. “They peel off the outer coating. And in Australia they are a pretty standard part of some diets.” In Chile, a rock-like variety called piure is being embraced by fine-dining establishments as a sustainable and local seafood option.
In Norway, the sea squirts for Pronofa’s culinary experiment are farmed, an idea that causes alarm for Maine farmers as it would mean purposefully introducing tunicates to the environment. It remains to be seen whether intrepid chefs may start experimenting with wild-harvested tunicates. In other parts of the world, including Chile, Argentina, and the Mediterranean, sea squirts are part of the local diet. They are easy to harvest and prepare on any waterfront, and recipes for sea squirts abound in these places.
Even if Americans don’t eat them, sea squirts can be transformed into high-protein feed for various animals, from chickens to salmon, and some have begun exploring that possibility.
University of New Hampshire professor Harris began experimenting with tunicates for animal feed decades ago. But he discovered that a Norwegian company, Ocean Bergen, already held a patent for that purpose, which extended to the U.S., so he discontinued his efforts. Ocean Bergen is one of a handful of Norwegian companies working with tunicates as a future food-system solution. Researchers believe that Ciona, which thrives in the freezing waters around Norway, could help clean the water around salmon farms, filtering out the excess nutrients that cause harmful algal blooms.
Two varieties of tunicate that are taking over Maine waters. (Photo courtesy of the Wells Estuarine Reserve)
Scientists are also experimenting with using tunicates for biofuels. Because they produce cellulose to make their outer tunic bodies, tunicates can be broken down to produce ethanol. Since initial studies in 2013, tunicates have been suggested as a potential fuel of the future, but progress with these experiments has been slow and heavily regulated.
Using tunicates for animal food or biofuels would also involve cultivating them for a reliable harvest, which would meet resistance from the aquaculture industry. Since sea squirts are already wreaking havoc on the seafront, a tunicate farm would likely not be welcome near any existing oyster, mussel, or scallop aquaculture operation.
It may be a while before Mainers consider the idea of eating a sea squirt. Meanwhile, the most important step in preventing tunicate spread is effectively stopping their proliferation. As ocean waters continue to warm, and Maine’s aquaculture industry continues to grow, it is likely that the sea squirt will thrive, and aqua-farmers will have to deal with them.
As Larry Harris warns, “Every dock, every net, is a potential population.”
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]]>The post Sean Sherman Expands His Vision for Decolonizing the US Food System appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Sean Sherman walks through an expansive commissary kitchen in South Minneapolis, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He isn’t taking in the kitchen as it is—dormant but well-equipped with an industrial smoker, a walk-in sausage-making area, and plentiful storage space. Instead, he’s seeing the future of his Meals for Native Institutions initiative, when the space is up, running, and realizing a long-term vision to introduce more Indigenous foods into the American food system.
Sherman, an Oglala Lakota tribal member with an unassuming demeanor, a soft smile, and a signature long braid hanging down his back, has endeavored to revitalize Native American food traditions since 2014, when he founded The Sioux Chef, a catering and educational enterprise. His focus is on “decolonized” food—made without Eurocentric ingredients such as beef, pork, chicken, dairy, wheat flour, and cane sugar—most notably at his acclaimed Minneapolis restaurant, Owamni.
“We’re scaling up our efforts almost simultaneously in Minnesota and Montana, and the goal is that we’re developing a model that works anywhere.”
There he’s become known for cedar-braising bison (flavoring meat with sprigs of the coniferous tree), chopping up plant medicines like ramps, morels, and sweet potatoes, and finishing off dishes with seasonings like sumac and sage. His Indigenous Food Lab (IFL), also in Minneapolis, is an incubator and training kitchen where Native chefs and entrepreneurs can access equipment and information from Sherman and other knowledge keepers.
Sherman still cooks at his restaurant, but these days, he has his sights set on a triad of initiatives that bring him closer to the goal of making the U.S. food system more inclusive and indeed more Indigenous. The opening later this year of an Indigenous Food Lab satellite in Bozeman, Montana, is part of that vision. So too is his cookbook Turtle Island (Clarkson Potter), which I coauthored, covering Native foodways across North America.
But in this moment, Sherman is most excited about Meals for Native Institutions, which will provide schools, hospitals, penitentiaries, and community centers with large-format Indigenous foods.
“This model has such immense potential to have a huge impact on the way we eat, especially for kids and elders—and really everyone,” he says about the larger efforts to decolonize institutional food.
This year feels like a full-circle moment for Sherman, who grew up eating government commodity foods—think canned beef and neon-orange blocks of cheese—on South Dakota’s Pine Ridge Reservation. That tribal community has endured some of the most devastating impacts of European colonization and U.S. policies on Indigenous cultures, practices, and foodways, including the government-sanctioned slaughter of the all-important bison.
Sherman cooking at the Indigenous Food Lab incubator and training kitchen in Minneapolis. (Photo credit: Bill Phelps Studio)
Today, Pine Ridge has some of the highest poverty rates in the nation and lowest life expectancies in the world. For Sherman, a TIME 100 honoree and three-time James Beard Award winner, a return to Indigenous foods can address some of those marked inequities.
“Maybe down the road we’ll even be able to get some of these Native food products into the commodity food program, which so many rural Indigenous communities like the Navajo Nation and Pine Ridge still utilize today,” he added.
His mission to revitalize Indigenous foodways began with a yearning to learn more about his people’s food while also curtailing the marked health inequities tribal communities experience, including disproportionate rates of obesity, type 2 diabetes, and heart disease. He’s done this through his nonprofit, North American Traditional Indigenous Food Systems (NATIFS), and through Owamni, and now he’ll have additional ways to move toward these goals.
Meals for Native Institutions will be housed in a newly acquired space that Sherman has named Wóyute Thipi (meaning “food building” in Dakota), situated along what’s known as the American Indian Cultural Corridor on Minneapolis’ Franklin Avenue, a cultural district home to several Indigenous-owned businesses, including a coffee shop and an art gallery.
The building will serve as NATIFS’ headquarters and feature a counter-service Indigenous BBQ restaurant dubbed ŠHOTÁ—the Dakota word for smoke—that’s expected to open later this year. Like Owamni, that public-facing eatery is meant to bring more meaningful attention to his big-picture goal.
“There is a huge need for culturally appropriate foods, especially in schools and programs serving Native people.”
Although the institutional foods initiative is still in the early stages, with Sherman actively fundraising to get it off the ground this summer, he foresees the well-equipped 4,000-square-foot commissary kitchen churning out a plethora of simply prepared, nutritious Indigenous foods. Early recipes include wild rice pilaf with dried berries; baked tepary beans lightly sweetened with maple syrup; and a three sisters soup that brings together nixtamalized pima corn, tepary beans, and delicata squash.
Much like the fare served at Owamni and planned for ŠHOTÁ, the meals created for schools and hospitals will be devoid of ingredients introduced by Europeans during colonization. Sherman’s team is working closely with a nutritionist to ensure recipes will meet established USDA nutritional standards for those settings.
“We know that the menus designed for the American school system aren’t great,” he said. “For example, pizza is somehow considered a perfect food because it covers the meat, grain, dairy, and fruit and vegetable requirements all in one swoop, but we know that pizza isn’t a perfect food for schoolkids. We’re not trying to replace the entire lunch program; we’re trying to create culturally specific components so there are options to build out menus using these recipes with at least one ingredient coming from an Indigenous producer.”
Local Indigenous advocates are cheering Sherman on as he expands his purview to better serve the robust Native community in the Twin Cities, estimated at more than 35,000 individuals. “There is a huge need for culturally appropriate foods, especially in schools and programs serving Native people, and I’m grateful Sean is supporting this with his new business,” said Indigenous Food Network Program Coordinator Kateri Tuttle. “There will always be a need to continue to expand services that provide our families and community with these important foods.”
Sherman wants to introduce more Indigenous foods into the American food system. (Photo credit: Bill Phelps Studio)
As much as this is about feeding people, it’s also about uplifting Native entrepreneurs and businesses. To that end, Sherman estimates that NATIFS currently funnels some $700,000 a year to Indigenous producers and farmers. He only see that growing from here.
“We want to ensure there’s always money going toward Indigenous food production,” he said. “I think we could probably double or triple our current purchasing power with this move into institutional food, where we’ll eventually be creating thousands of servings a day. So we’re not only addressing a need, but we’re also helping create a more sustainable system.”
Muckleshoot nutrition educator and food sovereignty advocate Val Segrest, who has collaborated with Sherman on past initiatives, emphasized the importance of initiatives like this.
“Efforts like this are a powerful reclaiming of space [and] story, and strengthen food sovereignty,” she said in an email. “By establishing Indigenous-owned food hubs in the heart of our communities, we restore pathways for cultural knowledge, health, and economic vitality to thrive. This is more than a building or initiative—it’s a beacon for Indigenous food futures, rooted in our values and nourished by our ancestors’ vision.”
Sherman is also eager to launch the satellite IFL in Bozeman, developed in partnership with Montana State University’s Buffalo Nations Food System Initiative, the Montana Indigenous Food Sovereignty Initiative, and the Human Resource Development Council of Southwest Montana.
Set to open this fall, it will be located in the Human Resources Development Council of Southwest Montana building and feature an incubator kitchen, a classroom, and a large warehouse designed to replicate the model he has developed in Minneapolis. Similar satellite IFLs are in the works in Rapid City, South Dakota, and Anchorage, Alaska—all intended to empower regional Indigenous chefs, entrepreneurs, community members, and organizations with professional equipment, culinary knowledge, and other support as needed.
For Sherman’s collaborators in Montana, it’s a welcome development. “First and foremost, the Indigenous Foods Lab is about revitalizing the kinship economy for the well-being of the people and the land; in the current climate, this work is more important than ever,” said Jill Falcon Ramaker, PhD (Bishkane Mishtadim Ikwe), director of the Buffalo Nations Food System Initiative.
“In the past, our [Native] food system was sustainable for more than 13,000 years because of the networked work of Native people and reliance on the gifts of the land or our older-than-human relatives,” she said. “As we return to the land in a place-based food system, we must rebuild our community amongst Native nations in the region.”
But the impact of the forthcoming IFL goes beyond just the area’s tribal communities, explained KayAnn Miller, co-executive director of the Montana Partnership to End Childhood Hunger. She pointed to alarming state statistics that she hoped the IFL could help curtail: that about two in five Montana residents have two or more chronic diseases, and that about a third of Montana children have at least one chronic disease.
An entree from Owamni, Sean Sherman’s award-winning restaurant, featuring elk. (Photo credit: Scott Streble).
“As we know, chronic diseases often have a dietary component, which means we need to eat a whole lot better in Montana,” said Miller. “Indigenous foods—which tend to be whole and healthy with an emphasis on lean proteins and fruits and vegetables—are right in line with what we all need to eat to reduce health challenges like heart disease and diabetes, which are two of the top 10 causes of death in our state. I see the Indigenous Food Lab as a way for all of us to learn more about these good foods, how to prepare and cook them, and how to grow and eat more of them.”
For Sherman, it’s an opportunity to address the inequities he grew up with back on the Pine Ridge Reservation while also uplifting local Native communities.
“We’re scaling up our efforts almost simultaneously in Minnesota and Montana, and the goal is that we’re developing a model that works anywhere—the Dakotas, Alaska, Hawaii,” he said. “Not only does this give Indigenous communities a platform to talk about the true histories of their cultures and these lands, but it’s also building skills and creating jobs within our communities. This is the kind of food sovereignty we’ve always been working toward.”
The post Sean Sherman Expands His Vision for Decolonizing the US Food System appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post What Deep Cuts to NOAA Mean for U.S. Fisheries appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>On a cold, bright April day, Sarah Schumann and Dean Pesante are painting the bottom of their fishing boat, the 38-foot Oceana, to prevent barnacles and weeds from attaching. They’re almost ready for the spring fishing season at Point Judith, Rhode Island, New England’s second most valuable fishing port.
Schumann and Pesante harvest bluefish, dogfish, scup, and bonito using gillnets that they set daily at the mouth of the Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island Sound.
“Our income and catch have dropped about 30 percent over the last four years,” Pesante told Civil Eats. They’ve caught fewer bluefish in the summer season and found far fewer bluefish during the fall run out of the bay. “We didn’t even reach the quota with what we were landing,” he said.
There are multiple factors that likely contribute to the declining bluefish catch, including rapidly warming ocean waters, which affect fish migration and behavior; dredging to lay cables for offshore wind turbines, which disrupts fish habitat; and a reduced quota for fishers, which explains some but not all of the lowered catch.
“We are looking at an effort to dismantle NOAA as it has functioned for the past few decades.”
For small commercial fishers like Pesante and Schumann, it’s become harder to make a living, and it could get a lot worse. Deep cuts to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA), the sprawling federal agency charged with monitoring and conserving fish stocks, managing coastal waters, and predicting changes in climate, weather, and the oceans—which commercial fishers rely on for day-to-day as well as seasonal forecasts—threaten the long-term viability of America’s $183 billion commercial fishing industry and the 1.6 million jobs it supports.
Schumann, who founded the Fishery Friendly Climate Action Campaign to give fishermen a voice in advocating climate solutions that work for them, spoke at a House Natural Resource Committee hearing in April about the NOAA cuts.
Though initially buoyed by the Trump administration’s pause on new leases for offshore wind, and its call for a more thorough review process that would heed community concerns, Schumann said she quickly became dismayed by the administration’s wrecking-ball approach to NOAA.
“These cuts will bog down the agency’s ability to serve the public and fishermen at a time when we desperately need—because of climate change—faster, more nimble, and more collaborative data collection and decision making,” she said.
NOAA was formalized under President Richard Nixon in 1970, at a time when rampant overfishing, including by foreign fleets, caused fish stocks to plummet and created hardship for fishing communities. Six years later, Congress passed the Magnuson-Stevens Fishery Conservation and Management Act, setting the rules that govern how NOAA manages fisheries.
In a memo leaked in early April, the Trump administration laid out its plan for slashing NOAA’s overall budget by 27 percent and making other draconian changes to the sprawling agency, including cutting 20 percent of its 12,000-employee workforce.
NOAA’s National Marine Fisheries Service (NMFS) staff, who oversee commercial fishing and some recreational fisheries, is set to be slashed by nearly 30 percent. The NMFS assesses and predicts the status of fish stocks, sets catch limits or quotas, and ensures compliance with fisheries regulations, working collaboratively with state environmental agencies, the fishing industry, and other federal agencies. It is vital for ensuring the sustainability of U.S. fisheries.
“We are looking at an effort to dismantle NOAA as it has functioned for the past few decades,” said Derek Brockbank, executive director at the Coastal States Organization, a nonprofit that coordinates the work of state coastal zone management offices.
The Weather Bureau’s first experimental Doppler Radar unit. The Weather Bureau officially began as a part of the Department of Agriculture. In 1970, it was renamed the National Weather Service and moved to the newly created National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA). (Photo credit: NOAA)
NOAA’s National Ocean Service, which houses its Coastal Zone Management (CZM) program, would see a 50 percent cut if the administration’s plan is implemented. Such a deep cut, said Brockbank, means losing protections for coastal restoration and habitat conservation, which could have a long-term impact on fisheries.
These proposed budget cuts and layoffs follow resignations or layoffs of 1,300 NOAA employees in March, hobbling the agency’s ability to carry out its mandate. Though hundreds of NOAA employees were subsequently reinstated, the attrition continues. The Northeast Fisheries Science Center, for example, reported in early May that it has lost more than one-quarter of its staff.
The President’s May 2 proposed “Skinny Budget” for fiscal year 2026 calls for the same $1.3 billion cut to NOAA, but provides scant details on specific programs to cut. “The details are so confused, but the underlying thread is that they’re slashing these scientific agencies that provide critical services to the American people, and they don’t care what the impact is,” Andrew Rosenberg, a former deputy director of NOAA’s National Marine Fisheries Service, told Civil Eats.
Budget negotiations are ongoing between Congress and the President, and however they resolve them, the administration’s April 17 executive order entitled “Restoring American Seafood Competitiveness” confirms its clear desire to upend the fishery management system that has not only kept American fisheries relatively healthy for decades, but has served as a model for fisheries management globally.
“The hard-won progress over the last 30 years to rebuild most of our fisheries—from in many cases severe depletion—could very quickly be reversed if we’re not going to enforce the rules or manage the fishery,” said Rosenberg.
When asked how NOAA will ensure the long-term sustainability of U.S. fisheries with a diminished staff, a spokesperson for the agency, James Miller, responded, “Per long-standing practice, we are not discussing internal personnel and management matters, nor do we do speculative interviews. NOAA remains dedicated to its mission, providing timely information, research, and resources that serve the American public and ensure our nation’s environmental and economic resilience.”
“The hard-won progress over the last 30 years to rebuild most of our fisheries—from in many cases severe depletion—could very quickly be reversed if we’re not going to enforce the rules or manage the fishery.”
Many in the industry were hoping for a more measured approach to reforming the lengthy process for setting fishing rules. “Everybody would agree, a lot of key reforms are needed within NOAA, but it’s a place to go with scalpel and intent,” said Ben Martens, executive director at Maine Coast Fisherman’s Association.
And while fishing groups generally support the president’s executive order, which seeks to increase domestic seafood production and “unburden our commercial fishermen from costly and inefficient regulation,” they say that any loosening of the rules must be done carefully to prevent a return to the Wild West days of overfishing.
“The devil is in the details, and that’s why it’s really important to have a funded and functioning NOAA and regional fishery management council system in place to implement the president’s vision,” said Eric Brazer, executive director of Gulf of America Reef Fish Shareholders’ Alliance, adding that fishermen must also be at the decision-making table.
The president’s budget proposals also call for eliminating NOAA’s Oceanic and Atmospheric Research (OAR) division, which collects vital, long-term temperature, carbon, and other data on our oceans and atmosphere, and abolishing all funding for climate-change-related data collection and research. Both of these functions are critical for understanding the health of the ecosystems that support U.S. fisheries.
Meanwhile, there’s greater need for research than ever, as warming ocean temperatures, driven by climate change, are shifting fish migration patterns and spawning behaviors. Warmer waters are also causing more violent and unpredictable weather that makes fishing riskier and damages critical coastal infrastructure such as wharves and piers.
Altogether, the staff firings, likely elimination of climate research, and NOAA’s compromised ability to forecast weather will fall especially hard on fishermen and coastal communities whose economies and cultural heritage are tied to healthy fisheries. Already, the impacts are beginning to play out.
Staff layoffs and retirements from NOAA’s fisheries division in March, plus a 60-day regulatory freeze, led to overfishing, slowed its ability to open fishing grounds this spring or keep them open, and sowed chaos.
Bluefin tuna was overfished by 125 percent in the mid-Atlantic region, because staff were unable to close the fishery in January when fishermen reached their catch limits.
For many fisheries to open for the season, NOAA’s NMFS must issue a rule with catch limits based on a “stock assessment,” an evaluation of the fishery’s health. A stock assessment can take one to three years to complete. NOAA fish biologists run surveys and models, collaborating closely with regional fishery management councils, state environmental agencies, other federal agencies, and sometimes international entities to conduct the assessments, a complex, data-driven system.
Sarah Schumann aboard Oceana. She and Dean Pesante fish out of Point Judith’s Port of Galilee in Rhode Island. (Photo credit: Dean Pesante)
John Hare, science and research director at NOAA’s Northeast Fisheries Science Center (NFSC), which covers North Carolina through Maine, acknowledged at an April regional council meeting that staff losses were impeding their ability to complete all 23 of its stock assessments scheduled for 2025. “It’s clear that we’re not going to be able to complete all of those,” he said, adding that his office intends to work with its partners “to come up with something that works for everybody.”
Indeed, New England’s lucrative scallop fishery—valued at $360 million in 2023—shut down midseason for a few weeks because NOAA wasn’t able to approve the rule proposed for 2025 on time. New England’s groundfish fishery (cod, haddock, and other species), valued at $42 million in 2023, was opened by an emergency action on May 1 while staff continued to finalize the rule.
On May 9, the NFSC and its partners announced that five fish stocks would not have full assessments this year as planned, and that it would pause research on two species, including winter flounder, which has been declining in New England partially due to warming waters.
“We’ve got fishing businesses that are relying on the passing of regulations, and if we don’t have the manpower to make those things happen, that can be really problematic,” said Martens.
Similarly in Alaska this spring, Linda Behnken, a fisherman and executive director of the Alaska Longline Fishermen’s Association, said “it was a huge scramble to get the fishery opened on time, with people not getting their permits until the day before, and the permits being issued wrong three times and having to be reissued.”
Senator Murkowski had to weigh in repeatedly with the secretaries of Commerce and State, according to Behnken, who added, “Things that used to just work are a mess.”
And in the Gulf region, Brazer said that his members are starting to see the impacts of a diminished NOAA. “Permit renewals are starting to take a lot longer,” Brazer said. “People aren’t there to pick up the phone when you call for support. We’ve seen our council meeting get rescheduled and shortened.”
The disappearance of seasoned scientists will likely affect the agency for years to come. Behnken worries what the loss of “really top people” from NOAA’s Alaska’s Fisheries Science Center means for the long-term health of Alaska fisheries, which produce most of the nation’s fish. Fewer staff to conduct stock assessments could erode NOAA’s ability to make sound management decisions around fish stocks.
“I’ve always believed that earning the title of commercial fishermen means more than just fishing. It also means standing up for the ecosystems that support our fisheries and the communities who depend on them.”
Robert Foy, Alaska Fisheries Science Center director, said at a regional fisheries meeting in April that while his staff were making “heroic efforts” to fill the gaps from lost staff and reprioritize work, “extreme changes and differences in the science that we are going to be able to provide” were looming.
Moreover, the center is operating under “a heck of a lot of uncertainty,” Foy said, as it tries to forecast its 2025 budget. The stock assessment and research projects currently planned may look very different when the group meets next in June.
Brazer, from the Gulf Coast fishery group, worries that the consequences of cutting or reducing surveys, dockside monitoring, and other data collection activities today won’t show up for years to come—and by then it may be too late to prevent a fishery from crashing.
Conversely, data gaps can also “lead to precautionary measures, which equals lower quotas,” said Steve Scheiblauer, a consultant to California’s Alliance of Communities for Sustainable Fisheries, a retired Harbor Master, and former member of the Pacific Fisheries Management Council. “That’s the chain reaction that folks are worried about,” he said.
Across the country, the worry is the same. “If there’s more uncertainty in the stock assessment process, regulators add a buffer,” agreed Thomas Frazer, professor and dean of the College of Marine Science at the University of South Florida and former chair of the Gulf Coast Fishery Management Council. “We don’t want to jeopardize the sustainability of the resource.”
Rosenberg, who helped rebuild New England’s scallop and groundfish fisheries in the 1990s, fears that the system may break down under such severe budget cuts. Rule setting will become slower and less comprehensive with fewer science staff, he said. A fishery may fail to open. Ultimately more fishermen may return to the old days of overfishing, especially if enforcement goes away.
“It’s not because [fishermen] are bad people,” he said. “They’re as profit motivated as anyone else. You could either fish hard or let somebody else fish hard. That’s why the rules are in place.”
Fishing is already one of the most dangerous professions. Fishermen are especially worried about cutbacks to NOAA’s National Weather Service, Martens said. “We rely on Weather for safety issues, and storms seem to be stronger,” he said, recalling the recent tragic loss at sea of a friend and board member of Maine Coast Fisherman’s Association.
Hurricane Sandy’s huge cloud extent of up to 2,000 miles churns off the coast of Florida as a line of clouds associated with a powerful cold front approaches the U.S. east coast on October 26, 2012 in the Atlantic Ocean. (Photo courtesy of NOAA via Getty Images)
Since 2021, nine federal disasters from severe storms and flooding have been declared in Maine. Rainfall events in the northeast have also intensified by 60 percent over the last 60 years, bringing flash flooding to coastal communities.
Staff firings are already harming the National Weather Service’s ability to forecast. Thirty of its offices are now without a chief meteorologist, which has current and former agency meteorologists warning that life-saving advisories may not be issued in time for this hurricane season.
But the administration’s proposal would go even further: It would terminate NOAA’s role in producing weather forecasts for the public. Weather forecasting would be privatized, and fishers and the public would have to pay for a service that is now free. Worse, weather forecasting in areas not deemed profitable may cease to exist, Rosenberg said.
Weakening the National Weather Service also threatens coastal infrastructure, said Hugh Cowperwaithe, senior program director of fisheries and aquaculture at Maine’s Coastal Enterprise Inc. He cited massive, back-to-back storms that hammered dozens of Maine’s waterfronts coast a year and half ago and caused $90 million in damages.
“With people knowing it was coming, they were able to, somewhat, prepare,” he said. “But if these forecasters aren’t in place, and the predictions aren’t as good, I think we’re in for some real destruction.”
Similarly in Rhode Island, where Schumann and Pesante fish, Point Judith’s Port of Galilee is vulnerable to rising sea level and storm surges from ever stronger hurricanes.
“We’re a major port. We have shipping channels,” said Caitlin Chaffee, chief of Narragansett Bay National Estuarine Research Reserve, at the RI Department of Environmental Management. “That [weather] information all contributes to our port safety and helping those systems to run.”
Ocean temperature, salinity, carbon and ocean acidification data collected by NOAA’s Oceanic and Atmospheric Research (OAR) division feed into stock assessments to paint a holistic picture of the health of a fishery and its ecosystem.
NOAA’s OAR, however, is slated for elimination. Cooperative research institutions that help OAR collect climate and weather data, such as the Ocean Exploration Cooperative Institute in Narragansett, could also be shuttered. Removing climate data from stock assessments would hamstring scientists’ ability to understand and predict fish population dynamics as the ocean warms.
A fishing boat crashing through the ocean off the coast of South Carolina. (Photo credit: campbellphotostudio, Getty Images)
“Fish are highly responsive to thermal conditions. Everything that their physiology does is impacted by temperature and other environmental conditions,” said Halley Froehlich, associate professor of aquaculture and fishery sciences at the University of California at Santa Barbara. “If we don’t include those things, we’re not effectively managing [fishery] systems.”
Shutting down OAR’s collection of climate and weather data would make it harder to ascertain which factors most affect bluefish population dynamics in Rhode Island Sound, including warmer ocean temperatures, dredging to lay transmission cables for offshore wind turbines, water quality, and competition from other species.
It would also make it harder to model the dynamics of other species, such as lobster, fluke, summer flounder, and black sea bass, which are migrating north toward colder waters along the east coast, confounding fishery management decisions.
More broadly, OAR’s research is vital for understanding the many ways that climate change impacts both ocean and freshwater ecosystems. The division’s researchers, for instance, collect data that inform how warmer ocean temperatures and reduced snowmelt are shrinking the cold-water habitats that Pacific salmon need to thrive.
Their data sheds light on how warmer temperatures weaken the upwelling of nutrients deep in the ocean, reducing the abundance of the microscopic algae, or phytoplankton, that form the base of the marine food chain. And they trace how carbon dioxide, absorbed from the atmosphere, is acidifying the ocean, dissolving the shells of crabs and mollusks and decreasing the growth and overall health of juvenile salmon.
Schumann worries that NOAA may no longer be able to protect the ocean’s fisheries and the communities that rely on them. She has reason to worry. The president’s leaked April memo declares that the National Marine Fisheries Service, the division that issues fishermen their catch limits, should prioritize issuing permits to “unleash American energy,” such as oil and gas.
NOAA’s ship, the Thomas Jefferson, in New York Harbor. The ship is a hydrographic survey ship that maps the ocean to aid maritime commerce, improve coastal resilience, and understand the marine environment. (Photo credit: NOAA).
Also, Trump’s April 17 executive order calls for opening up the Pacific Islands Heritage Marine National Monument, the world’s largest ocean reserve and home to endangered sea turtles and whales, to commercial fishing. President George W. Bush established the monument, which lies 750 miles west of Hawaii, in 2009. President Barack Obama expanded it in 2014.
Without a strong NOAA, “you’re going to see a situation where the biggest money, the biggest power, talks,” said Brockbank of the Coastal States Organization. Similarly, for onshore development, with no funding or staff to support coastal zone management, “you’re going to allow for large industrial projects that have billion-dollar investments to be pushed through without local fishermen having an ability to influence that,” he said.
Moreover, he continued, “If you don’t have the funding to support . . . coastal zone management, you will lose some of the protections and some of the advances in restoration and habitat conservation, which could have longer-term impact on fisheries.” Coastal estuaries provide nurseries for fish and shellfish and habitat for other animals, while also filtering out water pollutants and buffering communities from storm surges and floods.
For coastal Rhode Island, the threat looms large. “It’s our tourism and recreation, our fisheries, our aquaculture. All these multi-million-dollar industries depend on a healthy estuary—and things that folks may not appreciate, like water-quality monitoring. [That data] helps us decide when it’s safe to eat shellfish,” said Chaffee, whose budget—for now—is 70 percent NOAA-funded.
While some may think that a weaker NOAA is better for fishermen, that’s not how Schumann sees it.
“I’ve always believed that earning the title of commercial fishermen means more than just fishing. It also means standing up for the ecosystems that support our fisheries and the communities who depend on them.”
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]]>The post Protests Mount Against ICE Detentions of Immigrant Farmworkers appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In response to federal immigration enforcement targeting farmworkers and their communities around the country, the United Farm Workers union (UFW) organized a demonstration in New York today, challenging Trump administration immigration policies and calling for the release and a halt to the deportation of farmworkers already detained.
The union has been organizing demonstrations all week, following the arrests of 14 farmworkers in western New York last Friday. They are organizing at an ICE detention center in Batavia, New York, today to “demand the release of detained farmworker leaders,” according to calls to action from the UFW.
The UFW demonstrations come on the heels of another protest, this one in Washington state yesterday morning, where civil rights groups are also demanding the release of detained farmworkers, including a union organizer.
“We in the labor movement know all too well: an attack on the rights of any worker is an attack on the rights of every worker.”
In both cases, unions say workers appear to have been targeted by agents for their organizing.
Across the country, federal agents for U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) and Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) have detained farmworkers and union organizers amid a wider immigration sweep, in line with President Donald Trump’s policy agenda. Nearly 50,000 were being held in CBP and ICE detention in April. It is unclear exactly how many are farmworkers or labor organizers, but such arrests have been confirmed in California, New York, Vermont, Washington.
In California, Border Patrol agents made 78 arrests in Kern County, targeting a Home Depot, a convenience store frequented by farmworkers on their way to work, and drivers on roads running between farms, CalMatters reported.
In Vermont, at least three dairy workers have already been deported to Mexico after nine arrests there in April. Migrant Justice, a Vermont-based human rights organization, says thousands of people marched against ICE detentions last week.
“ICE has deported three farmworkers without due process, in clear violation of their rights,” Brett Stokes, a professor at Vermont Law who leads the legal team representing eight of the farmworkers, said in a statement. “We will fight for justice for those unjustly deported and will continue to move for the release of those still in detention.”
Arbey Lopez-Lopez, who was detained separately from the other eight, has a hearing scheduled with an immigration judge May 15. “The remaining farmworkers in detention have yet to receive a hearing date,” Migrant Justice said.
In New York, on the morning of May 2, federal agents pulled over a bus full of farmworkers in Albion, west of Rochester, detaining 14 employees of Lynn-Ette & Sons Farms. The UFW says the agents had a list of names, including union leaders who had been organizing at the farm. Those were the workers detained, the union said.
“Our top priority right now is to get these workers out. We are doing everything we can think of to accomplish that,” UFW Secretary Treasurer Armando Elenes said. “In this case, some of the workers who were detained were actively involved in organizing their workplace. We still have more questions than answers on how they came to be targeted . . . but if any workers at any company are ever targeted for immigration enforcement because of their involvement in union organizing, that would be a violation of our Constitution’s first amendment: the right to freedom of association, including with your union.”
In Washington state this week, organizers are calling for the release of Alfredo “Lelo” Juarez, a farmworker and organizer for Familias Unidas Por La Justicia (FUJ), who is being held at a detention center in Tacoma. Family members say Juarez was violently detained by ICE agents, who smashed his car window prior to arresting him.
Edgar Franks, an organizer at FUJ, told Truthout that the union believes Juarez’s detention was “politically motivated.”
“We believe he was targeted,” Franks said. “The way that ICE detained him was meant to intimidate. They hardly gave him any chance to defend himself or explain. He wasn’t resisting, and he just asked to see the warrant. They asked to see his ID, and right when he was reaching for it, they broke his car window. The ICE agents escalated really fast.”
The manner of the arrest was not unique, Franks said. “In past years, we’ve seen people getting pulled over and asked for their documents, but now it’s becoming more aggressive. ICE is harassing and intimidating people and not even showing warrants. It’s free rein for ICE to do whatever they want.”
An ICE spokesperson told Civil Eats Juarez had been ordered removed to his home country by an immigration judge in 2018. “U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement conducted a joint federal law enforcement arrest of Juarez in Sedro Woolley, Washington, March 25, where he refused to comply with lawful commands to exit the vehicle he was occupying at the time of the arrest.” Juarez will remain in ICE custody “pending removal proceedings,” the spokesperson said.
All of these arrests and protests come amid ongoing scrutiny of Trump’s immigration policies and widespread concern for farmworkers in agriculture.
Agricultural Secretary Brooke Rollins faced questions from the Senate Appropriations Committee on Wednesday, including questions about farmworkers and immigration crackdowns. Rollins told lawmakers she had had lengthy conversations with President Donald Trump about the issue and that the president understands the importance of immigrant farmworkers. “The larger effort to reform our immigration system to better serve our farmers and our ranchers is a priority,” Rollins said.
Labor organizers say the immigration crackdown is making their work harder—and more necessary. The New York arrests, for example, show “why workers who may be facing this more hostile anti-immigrant climate nationally can really benefit from having a union that’s able and willing to go to bat for them,” Elenes at UFW said. “We in the labor movement know all too well: an attack on the rights of any worker is an attack on the rights of every worker.”
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]]>The post The Pork Industry Asks Congress to Overturn Prop. 12, a Divisive Animal Welfare Law, Yet Again appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In May 2023, nearly eight months after hearing a case brought by the National Pork Producers Council (NPPC), the Supreme Court upheld a California law that banned the sale of pork from systems that confine mother pigs in small crates.
Soon after, Gary Malenke’s phone started ringing. “There were a lot of customers looking for product and a lot of concern about, ‘Hey, where’s my supply gonna come from? Are my shelves gonna be empty?’” he said.
As senior vice president of pork operations for Perdue Premium Meat Company, Malenke oversees a mid-size pork processing plant in Iowa. The pork processed there—for brands including Niman Ranch and Coleman Natural Foods—already meets Prop. 12’s requirements, since gestation crates are not used in their systems. So, he was a logical contact for buyers suddenly concerned about finding pork to sell.
But, Malenke said, after about six months, the calls mostly stopped. On the ground, he’s heard little talk about the law, and from his vantage point, the market has met the moment. “California seems to have aligned with their suppliers in a way where the balance between what’s coming in the pipeline for Prop. 12 product seems to be aligning relatively well with what the demand is,” he said.
That’s not how the NPPC sees it.
The week of April 7, NPPC members, who represent the country’s biggest pork companies, arrived in Washington, D.C. to try once again to convince Congress to overturn Prop. 12. They started the week with an advertising takeover of Politico’s influential Weekly Agriculture newsletter, in which ads pleaded with lawmakers to correct Prop. 12’s “damaging consequences nationwide for both farmers and consumers.”
A screenshot of one of four advertisements from the National Pork Producers Council in the April 7 Weekly Agriculture email newsletter from Politico.
On April 8, Iowa’s Republican U.S. Senators, Joni Ernst and Chuck Grassley, and Senator Roger Marshall (R-Kansas), introduced the Food Security and Farm Protection Act, which, if incorporated into an upcoming farm bill, would overturn Prop. 12 and prevent other similar bills in the future.
The new act is essentially a renamed version of the Ending Agricultural Trade Suppression (EATS) Act, which was first introduced in 2023. The NPPC praised the senators’ “efforts to avert [a] pork industry crisis.”
While the battle over Prop. 12 has been raging for nearly a decade, this is the first time it’s possible to look at the impacts the law has had on farmers and the market for pork. The law’s requirements were phased in starting in July 2023, and were fully implemented in January 2024, a little over one year ago.
Looking for Signs of Crisis
More time is needed for price and farm data to catch up, so analysis is still limited. But based on Civil Eats’ reporting and research, it’s hard to find signs of the crisis NPPC describes, and some available evidence points the other way.
Experts say the premiums being paid to farmers who changed their systems more than cover the cost of the upgrades required. Brands like Niman Ranch, which supports a network of independent small farms, have increased their sales. Many of the country’s biggest corporations, which experts say shouldered more of the costs associated with the transition, increased the performance of their pork segments in 2024 compared to 2023.
Price data is harder to parse: the price of the pork covered by the law has increased in California, but economists say more and better data is needed to definitively say how much of the jump is attributable to the law (versus other factors that impact prices) and whether the initial disruption is starting to ease.
Many people also say the scrambled political landscape that exists around Prop. 12 seems to have shifted more toward support for keeping the law in place. While the Biden administration, Trump’s past and current U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA), and many farm-state lawmakers have all sided with the NPPC in favor of overturning Prop. 12, groups from across the political spectrum are dedicated to preserving it.
One coalition working to stop legislation that would nullify Prop. 12 includes diverse organizations concerned about a broad range of issues, from animal welfare and the environmental impacts of meat production to corporate consolidation and state’s rights.
“I think we have done a really good job making the case against the [former] EATS Act on so many different levels. We’ve got very far-right members of our coalition and we’ve got left members of our coalition,” said Christian Lovell, the senior director of programs at Farm Action Fund, a nonprofit focused on anti-monopoly policies and a leader of the effort to protect Prop. 12. “There’s also a lot of market opportunity for producers that do want to meet these standards. That to me is just incongruent with what the industry is describing.”
However, House Agriculture Committee staff said in an email to Civil Eats that they have heard from “over 900 federal, state, and county agricultural stakeholders” asking lawmakers to overturn Prop 12.
“There’s also a lot of market opportunity for producers that do want to meet these standards. That to me is just incongruent with what the industry is describing.”
As a result, Committee Chair G.T. Thompson (R-Pennsylvania) plans to again include language that does so in the next draft of the farm bill, as he did in 2024. Thompson’s provision is narrower than the language in both the former EATS Act as well as the new bill introduced in April, and only applies to livestock (as opposed to nullifying state laws that regulate the production of all agricultural products).
“The threat to producers goes way beyond NPPC and the pork industry,” Thompson said in a statement provided to Civil Eats. “States like California must be held accountable. They cannot be allowed to enact mandates that dictate production standards to producers outside of their borders.”
The NPPC declined a request for an interview, and the organization’s spokesperson did not respond to detailed questions that Civil Eats sent asking for their perspective on multiple points laid out in this story.
One of the messages the NPPC is featuring most prominently is how much more Californians are now paying for pork. Back in 2021, the industry created the “Food Equity Alliance” to push the message that the animal welfare law would hurt low-income Californians due to price increases. Then, they commissioned and publicized an analysis that said bacon prices would rise 60 percent in Los Angeles due to a 50 percent reduction in supply. That didn’t happen. (Longtime opponents of animal rights groups are also behind another new campaign Politico reported on yesterday that includes a website filled with misinformation on price increases in both pork and eggs.)
On its current website dedicated to the issue and in some of its ad campaigns, the NPPC has emphasized that Prop. 12 caused a 41 percent “surge in certain pork prices” and a 20 percent average increase.
Those numbers come from an analysis conducted by USDA economists and published by the Giannini Foundation of Agricultural Economics at the University of California. Using proprietary retail data, researchers attributed a 20 percent average price increase in pork covered by the law in California to the implementation of Prop. 12. (Pork products covered by the law include fresh cuts and bacon; ground pork and cooked products like sausages and hot dogs are not covered. It’s unclear why the law was written to only cover certain products.) Price increases ranged depending on the cut, with pork loin (a category that is mostly pork chops) increasing the most, by that 41 percent. Those increases significantly outpaced average price increases across the country.
However, the analysis comes with many limitations. The data only applied to a seven-month period—the first six months of the law as it was being phased in, plus just one month where it was fully in effect.
It also was not a peer-reviewed study, and Daniel Sumner, a professor of agricultural and resource economics at U.C. Davis and the director of the Giannini Foundation, said that the data acted in a strange way that warranted additional scrutiny. He published it, he said, primarily “because it was the only data available.”
If the average 20 percent jump is accurate, the price disruption would also likely be higher at the start, since costs to upgrade housing for pigs, for instance, occur once at the beginning of the process and markets need time to adjust, said David Ortega, a professor of food economics and policy at Michigan State University. “You would expect the immediate shock and then a bit of a decay as things adjust and you spread costs over more product,” he explained.
But researchers have not yet analyzed more recent data on what has happened in the year and a half since Prop. 12’s full implementation. In response to an inquiry from Civil Eats, USDA Chief Economist Seth Meyer, who was involved in the original analysis, said there was no public data he could provide but that his team had since looked at “subsequent periods” and “the story remained consistent with the initial findings.”
Other numbers provided to Civil Eats that relied on the same source of retail price data between January 2024 (when the law went fully into effect) and December 2024 showed an average price increase for covered pork that would be closer to 10 percent higher than the rest of the country. But the data is limited in a way that doesn’t allow for a one-to-one comparison or more significant, definitive conclusions. It’s also hard to isolate Prop. 12’s effect from other factors, since California’s pork consumption is not identical to other states.
The retail data Sumner works with is on a two-year delay. “I’m anxious to see what actually happened,” he said.
As of the end of April, 387 companies have chosen to distribute Prop. 12-compliant pork products in California, according to the California Department of Agriculture. Those include food-service distributors, like Sysco, and the country’s biggest pork processors, like Cargill.
One of the things Sumner emphasizes is that debates on Prop. 12 always focus on the cost of upgrading the barns that house mother pigs to comply with the law. However, he said, it turns out that the cost of separating Prop. 12-compliant pork from the other pork being produced accounts for much more of the price increases than those upgrades. “Most of it has to be traceability, because the costs at the farm level aren’t that high,” he said. “Everybody agrees on that.”
The bulk of the extra costs, then, fall on the pork processing and distribution companies, Sumner said.
Since the law went into effect, Smithfield, Tyson, and Seaboard, the three biggest public corporations that produce American pork and therefore provide detailed financial accounting, reported increasing profits in their pork segments. (Of course, there are many other pork companies that do not share financial data, and those could show different impacts.)
Since the law went into effect, Smithfield, Tyson, and Seaboard, the three biggest public corporations that produce American pork and therefore provide detailed financial accounting, reported increasing profits in their pork segments.
Tyson reported “significant improvement in profitability” across the company in 2024 compared to 2023. While its pork segment operated at a loss, it reduced its loss by about $100 million last year. Smithfield reported about a billion dollars in operating profits in 2024, nearly four times its 2023 profit.
“This strong rebound reflects our resilient business model, led by another year of record profits in our Packaged Meats segment, our third consecutive year of profit growth in our Fresh Pork segment and a more than $600 million increase in Hog Production segment profitability,” President and CEO Shane Smith said in a statement.
Some of those improvements could be attributed to the fact that the company had a very bad 2023, shuttering dozens of hog operations in Missouri and Utah. But the company attributed the closures to oversupply, not Prop 12. In one of its 2024 financial filings, the company mentioned being an “early industry mover” on Prop. 12-compliant pork.
Neither Tyson nor Smithfield responded to requests for interviews.
That aligns with Malenke’s observation that companies seemed to be catching up and even benefiting from the transition. “As you’ve seen some people convert facilities and supply and demand start falling into place, I’d say there’s not as much of a unified voice against [Prop. 12] maybe as there was two years ago,” he said. “It’s a little more mixed today, because there are people that have made investments, and they’re capitalizing on the market opportunity as well.”
In 2023, Seaboard said it would shift its sales away from California so it wouldn’t have to make changes to its housing for mother pigs. However, the company is now on the list of certified distributors. It reported an increase in operating income in 2024 attributable to “higher margins on pork products and market hogs sold, primarily due to higher sale prices and lower hog production costs.”
That supports Farm Action Fund’s Lovell’s argument around any industry-led effort to blame high food prices on a factor like Prop. 12. “Time and time again, these big corporations really take the opportunity, whenever there’s a ‘supply chain disruption’—whether that’s a change like Prop. 12 or that’s avian flu where yeah, prices go up a little bit—to tack on their own premium,” he said.
Seaboard did not respond to a request for an interview.
Aside from the prices Californians pay for bacon at the grocery store, the pork industry’s other main argument for overturning Prop. 12 is that “small family farmers will be crushed” by the law. On the website, NPPC displays a statistic: 5,000 hog farms lost in the U.S. from 2017 to 2022.
Those numbers are from the USDA Agricultural Census and show the tail end of a trend that started in the 1990s. At the same time the pork industry was shifting to a Concentrated Animal Feeding Operation (CAFO) model and the companies raising and buying animals became more consolidated, farms began disappearing and the ones that remained got bigger to survive. Since the implementation of Prop. 12 began in July 2023, after the end of the available stats, it’s unclear what the numbers from 2017 to 2022 are intended to show.
Farm Action credits the industrialization and consolidation of industries like pork for much of the decline in farms and sees Prop. 12 as an opportunity for farmers that work within that system to get a higher price for their animals. “We’ve seen farmers either changing their operation or just flat-out getting into a new type of system where they’re raising pork that meets the standards.”
After Prop. 12 went into effect, the USDA began tracking the premium paid to farmers. It’s hovered around $5 per 100 pounds of pig, which Sumner says is enough to make the transition worth it. In October of 2023, a group of Missouri and Illinois farmers sent a letter to House and Senate agriculture leadership asking them to reject overturning Prop 12.
Sows at the Willis Free Range Pig Farm in Thornton, Iowa, which was operated by Paul Willis, founder and manager of the Niman Ranch network of 500 farmers. Gestation options for sows in the network include hoop barns, larger open-sided barns, and pastures with huts. (Photo courtesy of Niman Ranch).
“We have invested in substantial and profitable adjustments to our operations—from modifying our production methods, to expanding our supply chain reach, and spending resources to inform consumers about our product compliance,” they wrote. “As independent farmers, product differentiation is a crucial avenue for maintaining our ability to compete and remain in the marketplace against powerful multinational corporations that control the majority of the market.”
Companies like Niman Ranch, which buys from a network of about 500 family farmers that already raise pigs according to higher welfare standards, have also benefited. A spokesperson told Civil Eats the company landed a few big accounts due to Prop. 12, and thanks to increased demand from California (and elsewhere), the company increased its hog numbers 15 percent in 2024 and expects another 10-15 percent increase in pigs in 2025.
These are exactly the kind of small family farms the NPPC claims to care about, Lovell said.
“We know small farms are the most likely to be diversified. We know that small farms are the most likely to have high welfare standards, and we know that small farms are really the most likely to use more sustainable regenerative practices, right? So, I would take issue with the premise of Prop. 12 being incongruent with supporting small farmers,” he said.
Of the pork industry’s big push on Capitol Hill, he continued, “We think their policy is wrong. We think their tactics are wrong. We think that on the merits and on the data they’re wrong. Whether or not they changed the bill name, whatever they want to call it, our coalition will be there to oppose it.”
An earlier version of this article misspelled the name of Iowa Senator Joni Ernst.
The post The Pork Industry Asks Congress to Overturn Prop. 12, a Divisive Animal Welfare Law, Yet Again appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post USDA’s Regional Food Business Centers Caught in Federal Funding Freeze appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>For the past five years, Patra and David Wise have been growing their farm business, Native Wise, to sell vegetables, wild rice, and honey to their local community in Northeastern Minnesota. In 2021, they added a herd of bison on family land they had acquired within the Fond du Lac Reservation, a step they were particularly excited about since it represented the first time bison were returned to the tribal lands in about 150 years.
However, processing the animals in order to sell the meat locally has been a challenge: The couple currently has to haul the animals to a slaughter facility about four hours away, which is both time-consuming and hard on the bison. So, they’ve been working toward setting up their own local processing.
Last year, they got a boost when the North Central USDA Regional Food Business Center awarded them a $50,000 Business Builder Grant to pay for crucial pieces of equipment. So far, they’ve purchased an industrial cooler-freezer combo that will allow them to store meat for customers until they come to the farm to pick it up.
“We wouldn’t be able to do the farm-to-consumer processing without that type of a freezer,” said Patra Wise, adding that it would have been nearly impossible for them to afford such an expensive piece of equipment without the grant.
“You sign a contract and then you’re trusting the government that they’re going to honor their end.”
Wise was about to purchase a few smaller pieces of equipment with the remaining grant funds, which farmers and entrepreneurs receive by requesting reimbursements, when she heard, at the end of January, that all payments were on hold. She was shocked, she said, because the grant had already been awarded.
“You sign a contract and then you’re trusting the government that they’re going to honor their end,” she said. “For a small farm, that’s life or death, basically, for the business.”
Like many other U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) programs that support local and regional farms, the Regional Food Business Centers have been put on ice since the Trump administration took office.
In May 2023, the USDA awarded grant funding to local organizations like nonprofits and universities to run the business centers. The centers use that funding to support the local food economy, including by issuing smaller sub-grants to farmers and food businesses like Native Wise.
With $360 million awarded, the Regional Food Business Centers program represents a small slice of USDA spending, so has attracted less attention than bigger projects like the Partnerships for Climate-Smart Commodities. (USDA canceled that program this week, but is allowing some projects to continue if they meet new criteria.)
However, the 12 centers have a wide reach, since they were set up to be hubs of business development activity within rural communities across the country. With funding paused, partnerships they’ve formed to provide technical assistance to farms and food businesses have been disrupted, as have grant dollars promised to local farmers and food businesses like Native Wise.
Because the projects were intentionally crafted to build the connective tissue that local supply chains rely on, a break in the chain has larger ripple effects. For example, one of the North Central Regional Food Business Center’s other grants went to a kitchen facility in Fargo, North Dakota. Until payments were paused, the facility was using its grant funding to expand its kitchen space, which would have enabled more farms and small food businesses to cook and process there to bring products to market.
“So, it’s not just about the awardee, it’s about everyone around them, too,” said Candice Zimmerman, a regional development planner at Region Five Development Commission, an economic development organization that runs the North Central Center, which serves Minnesota, North Dakota, and South Dakota.
Last week, nine of the 12 organizations running the centers sent a letter to members of Congress highlighting the impact of the work they’re doing, explaining that they are not getting reimbursed for money already spent based on their USDA contracts, and pleading for help. The letter was shared with Civil Eats.
“If there ever is a program that really deserves bipartisan support across the spectrum, it’s this program,” Paul Freedman, the director of the Appalachia Regional Food Business Center, which supports food producers across seven states from Pennsylvania to Tennessee, told Civil Eats. “Our middle name is business. Our goal here is to help businesses bring food to market so that it’s available at a fair price and so that producers, processors, and farmers can actually make a living doing this.”
In response to increasing food-system consolidation and the supply chain shocks of the COVID-19 pandemic, President Biden’s USDA created a suite of new programs with the intention of building back what policy wonks call the “mid-tier” of the food system. It’s the landscape of farms and food businesses that support regional wealth and that have been the most hollowed out over the past several decades as corporate consolidation has pushed for a “get big or get out” farm economy.
“If there ever is a program that really deserves bipartisan support across the spectrum, it’s this program.”
Biden’s USDA wanted to put some of the work of building back those regional markets onto local organizations that might better understand each region’s unique needs. A former USDA official who worked on the program—who did not want to be identified because of current policy work she is engaged with—used an analogy: Just like the local agents of USDA’s Natural Resources Conservation Service helped growers understand their particular soil profiles, the Regional Food Business Centers would help farmers understand, access, and build local markets.
The USDA tasked the centers with coordinating regional food efforts, offering comprehensive technical support, and providing small financial grants to further build local food capacity. “Success will be if we’re able to create additional market opportunities so that mid- and small-sized operators still have a chance of staying in the business,” former Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack told Civil Eats at the time.
Five-year grant agreements to 12 centers were finalized in 2023. In an October 2024 progress report, the USDA reported that as a result, 2,800 individuals received technical assistance, 1,500 new partnerships were formed, and 287 businesses reported increased revenue.
In the letter to lawmakers, the Northwest and Rocky Mountain Regional Food Business Center—which serves Colorado, Wyoming, Montana, Washington, Idaho, and Oregon—reported that in its first year, its technical assistance programs helped establish 30 new companies, and 50 farms and businesses that worked with the center reported increased sales. The center cited its support of the development of Wyoming’s Food Freedom Markets, which one dairy farm reported enabled it to increase sales four-fold.
Because the Northwest Center is run by Colorado State University, it is continuing its work and honoring contract payments despite the current lack of USDA reimbursement, with staff hoping funding will resume soon.
When the Trump administration took office, the USDA stopped paying Regional Food Business Center grantees for any work done after January 20. For the North Central Center, the freeze has been devastating.
“We’re not getting paid, and we’re not being told when that review will be done,” said Cheryal Lee Hills, executive director of the Region Five Development Commission.
In addition to not being able to reimburse grantees like Native Wise for work done under already-signed grant contracts, Hills had to cancel 31 subcontracts to organizations working with the center to provide technical assistance across Minnesota, South Dakota, and North Dakota. That assistance might look like helping farmers market their foods, meet food safety requirements, or access capital to grow.
Some of those organizations have had to lay off staff as a result, Hills said. Now, with more than three years left on their contract, the organization is essentially treading water and isn’t getting any information from the USDA as to what might happen.
The USDA did not respond to questions about the freeze, its impacts, or whether the Regional Food Business Center program might be cancelled.
“I don’t have a good answer of how long we can hold out,” Hills said. “I’m hoping that they just either pay us . . . or terminate the thing so that we can all move on with our lives, because right now, it’s like we’ve been cut by a knife, and we don’t know how bad we’re going to bleed or for how long.”
One of the explicit aims of the project was also for the USDA to reach farmers and food businesses that historically had trouble accessing its programs and services. That could mean small, diversified farms that don’t fit the commodity mold, or Black farmers who faced past discrimination. With the pause and confusion, Hills said, many of those who are new to working with USDA grants are now demoralized, and even for those who have long accessed USDA’s services, confidence in the agency is plummeting.
When the Trump administration took office, the USDA stopped paying Regional Food Business Center grantees for any work done after January 20.
“I don’t think I’m ever going to apply for another USDA grant,” she said.
The Appalachia Center was not as far along in its work. Last fall, it closed the first round of its Business Builder Grants, selected 62 as awardees, and then sent the list to the USDA early this year for approval. Among those on the list are grain farmers who want to sell more of their grains directly to their communities and a food business working to more effectively process pawpaws. Now, they’re all in limbo.
Since the grants hadn’t been finalized, none of the farmers have spent money yet, so are not waiting for payments. Still, Appalachia Center Director Paul Freedman said the grants are time sensitive. Many of the applications included detailed cost estimates that depend on equipment pricing that changes over time. And the farmers are starting the season without knowing, now, if they’ll be expected, later, to start the projects and honor the contracts. Freedman has also paused a second round of Business Builder Grant applications and has stopped paying the Center’s 17 partner organizations for technical assistance.
“The longer it goes, at some point, more and more staff and more and more [of those] partners fall off,” he said. In other words, the longer his center is unable to get reimbursed for its work, the harder it is to keep supporting local farms and food businesses—who may have to call it quits on working with the center. Freedman said that moment feels imminent.
It’s a shame, he said, because one of things he thinks makes the Regional Food Business Centers effective is that each region is able to come up with its own “unique solutions to unique problems.”
In Ohio, that might mean helping an orchard get into cider production to boost revenue. On tribal lands in Minnesota, it might mean building the infrastructure to process bison.
What the centers have in common, said Freedman, is that they’re all working to counter the extractive forces like corporate consolidation that have long pushed farmers to hang up their hoes. “[The Regional Food Business Centers help] to overcome that and make small farms viable, and by doing so you’re getting more local food, which makes us more resilient, whether there’s a natural disaster, another recession, another—heaven forbid—a pandemic. It isn’t a blue or red issue.”
April 17, 2025 Update: This story has been updated to include the status of the Northwest and Rocky Mountain Regional Food Business Center’s work.
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]]>The post Bayer’s Effort to Block Roundup Lawsuits Kicks Into High Gear appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>April 28, 2025 Update: North Dakota’s governor signed the first bill protecting pesticide companies from liability into law last week. In Georgia, the bill is still with the governor.
On March 21, a jury in a Georgia courtroom awarded John Barnes $2.1 billion in damages, affirming his claim that using Roundup caused his non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and that the company that made the product should have warned him of the risk.
It was one of about 177,000 lawsuits to date filed against Bayer, which acquired Monsanto, the maker of the world’s most widely used weedkiller, in 2018. The company has set aside $16 billion to handle the litigation, and this case looked like another major loss.
On the contrary, it may be the last Roundup litigation case in the state.
The week prior, Georgia’s state lawmakers passed a bill that would protect pesticide manufacturers from the same kind of legal liability in the future. It is now awaiting Republican Governor Brian Kemp’s signature.
If the bill becomes law, it will mark a turning point in Bayer’s long search to find the right strategy to beat back the lawsuits claiming that Roundup causes cancer. Bayer maintains that Roundup and its active ingredient, glyphosate, are safe when used as directed, and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) has repeatedly found it is not likely to cause cancer.
“The fact these chemical companies want immunity from the harm that their pesticides may have on an individual or many individuals, it’s just not fair.”
International health agencies and multiple juries, presented with scientific research and documents that show Monsanto worked to hide evidence of harm, have reached different conclusions, affirming its connection to non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
In addition to many other approaches to mitigate the cost of litigation, the agrichemical giant first began writing and lobbying for the passage of “pesticide immunity” laws in a handful of states last year.
The laws eliminate individuals’ ability to bring “failure-to-warn” claims, which most Roundup litigation has been based on to date. Essentially, these laws declare that if the EPA has approved a chemical as safe, companies cannot be held liable for failing to warn users of risks. Opponents point out that the EPA’s approvals do not always keep up with emerging risks. Chlorpyrifos and atrazine, for example, have remained in use with EPA approval despite known risks.
Last year, Bayer lobbied lawmakers in Iowa, Idaho, and Missouri to push immunity bills, but the bills failed to pass. The company then ramped up its campaign heading into 2025. It created the Modern Ag Alliance to promote farmer support for the bills and began a cross-country ad blitz. Since the beginning of this year, lawmakers have introduced similar immunity bills in about a dozen states. Bills were defeated in Montana, Mississippi, and Wyoming and are still pending in Idaho, Oklahoma, North Dakota, Missouri, Florida, Tennessee, and Iowa.
“People who know about the bill are opposed to the bill and really don’t want their rights curtailed. We don’t need to have the Iowa legislature making this decision on behalf of Bayer,” said Jennifer Breon, an organizer at advocacy group Food & Water Watch who has been coordinating opposition to the Iowa bill. “If they feel that their cancer or whatever illness has been caused by using a pesticide, people should have a chance to make that case in court.”
While action continues in the states, Bayer is actively supporting two current pathways to federal law changes that could achieve a similar result: The first is a petition submitted by the attorneys general of 11 Republican-led states asking the EPA to initiate a rulemaking process that would further affirm the EPA’s authority on pesticide labeling. The second, a piece of legislation called the Agricultural Labeling Uniformity Act, could be attached to a future farm bill.
There is also a wild-card factor in the mix: While Republicans have mostly supported Bayer’s efforts in the past, Secretary of Health and Human Services Robert F. Kennedy Jr. was one of the lawyers who won the first verdict against Monsanto (now Bayer) based on claims Roundup caused Dewayne “Lee” Johnson’s cancer. And some of Kennedy’s Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) followers have been speaking out against the bills.
Bayer did not respond to questions from Civil Eats by press time.*
On April 1, Iowans stood in front of their state capitol building in Des Moines holding letters that spelled out, “NO CANCER GAG ACT.” State Representative Megan Srinivas, a Democrat, who has been leading opposition to the bill in the legislature, stepped up to the podium.
“This bill only gives corporate profits a boost,” she said. “It tells Iowans, ‘Your lives don’t matter.’ ”
The bill, SF 394, passed in the Senate, although all Democrats and six Republicans voted against it. House lawmakers had an April 4 deadline to take it up in their chamber or it would be dead for the session, and the press conference at the state capitol was organized in support of that outcome. A coalition of 31 advocacy groups also sent a letter to House lawmakers, urging them to oppose the bill.
At the rally, Srinivas brought up Iowa’s high and rising cancer rates, a rallying cry from last year’s battle. Srinivas linked those rates to widespread use of agricultural chemicals in the state.
In 2024, farmers sprayed glyphosate on an estimated 15.5 million acres of corn and soybeans fields across Iowa. That’s not including its use in fields sown with other crops like wheat and oats, or across lawns, golf courses, and gardens.
“There’s just more exposure in Iowa,” said Dani Replogle, an attorney with Food & Water Watch.
However, health agencies disagree on the carcinogenic effects of glyphosate, and cancer is a complicated disease with many causes. It’s difficult to tease out how much of an impact agricultural chemical use has on cancer rates overall or to distinguish the impacts of one chemical from another when so many are used across the landscape.
Roundup is less toxic compared to many other approved pesticides but is used at a scale that is exponentially greater than other chemicals, so its association with non-Hodgkins’ lymphoma risk has had a much broader impact. In 2019, for example, U.S. farmers used about 275 million pounds of glyphosate. Atrazine was the second most widely used herbicide, at 75 million pounds.
Roundup is also more widely used by individuals outside of agriculture, including landscapers and gardeners. (Bayer is now in the process of taking glyphosate out of home use Roundup products as another prong in the plan to end lawsuits.) However, advocates say it’s important to note that the pesticide immunity bills won’t just apply to Roundup, they’ll apply to any pesticide.
In support of the pesticide immunity bill, Bayer sent four lobbyists to the Iowa state house and forged alliances with powerful agricultural groups. The Agribusiness Association of Iowa, Iowa Soybean Association, and Iowa Corn Growers Association are all partners in the Modern Ag Alliance and registered lobbyists to support the bill.
In an effort to pass state bills, the company has focused on a public messaging campaign that included ads on television, news sites, and social media. In the first three months of the year, the Modern Ag Alliance spent about $171,000 on Meta ads alone, $21,800 of that targeted to Iowa.
Some of the ads go directly to a page on the Modern Ag Alliance website where one can click on a state and send a pre-written letter to lawmakers supporting a specific bill. In Iowa, the website reports that more than 600 individuals have done so. Meta only requires companies to report spending on political ads, so the $171,000 does not include spending on a deluge of Bayer ads on glyphosate that have been flooding this reporter’s Facebook, Instagram, and LinkedIn feeds, for example, ever since reporting began for this story.
The political ads cover a range of messages: Some draw unsubstantiated connections between glyphosate litigation and food prices, set up Roundup lawsuits as a battle between trial lawyers and farmers, and claim the research that links Roundup to cancer is from a “discredited foreign study.” But many of Bayer’s larger set of ads simply hammer away at a simple message: Glyphosate is safe, farmers need it, and if these bills don’t pass, it might not be available anymore.
The agrichemical giant first began writing and lobbying for the passage of “pesticide immunity” laws in a handful of states last year.
“They’re promoting this idea that farmers need access to glyphosate to grow corn and soybeans in Iowa, and that’s, of course, not what the bill’s about,” Food & Water Watch’s Breon said. “Glyphosate is not going anywhere. This is just about their bottom line and their profits that they’re protecting.”
Civil Eats sent questions to Bayer asking specifically about whether the company would stop making glyphosate but the company’s representative did not send answers by press time.
Farmers, Breon noted, are among those most often exposed to agricultural chemicals, who might want to retain their right to sue in case at some point they are diagnosed with an illness and find that chemical companies knew about undisclosed risks.
While the Iowa Farm Bureau lobbied for the bill, the Iowa Farmers Union lobbied against it, declaring in a statement that farmers should be able to seek relief if they’re harmed by a chemical and that “Iowa law should protect our farmers and our communities instead of pesticide companies.”
In Idaho, Jonathan Oppenheimer, the government relations director for the Idaho Conservation League, which led opposition to Idaho’s pesticide immunity bill, said the one message he saw building support for the bills was the idea that Bayer would stop making Roundup if states did not grant them immunity and litigation continued. In his state, the Modern Ag Alliance spent more than $20,000 on targeted Meta ads and close to 700 people filled out its legislative action form. The bill died in the legislature without getting a hearing.
And in February, the Idaho Conservation League released the results of a survey commissioned by advocacy groups to gauge support of pesticide bills among residents in Idaho, Iowa, and Missouri, where pesticide immunity bills were introduced in 2024. The pollsters found 90 percent of Idahoans surveyed opposed the bills. “It was overwhelming to the point that the polling firm said they had never seen numbers this high,” Oppenheimer said.
Given the fact that very few of the state bills have passed so far, he said, the sentiment may extend beyond those states. “It surprises me that Bayer pushed so hard and spent so much money this year with relatively—except for Georgia—no success,” he said. “They’ve succeeded in one state and one state alone.”
In Iowa, on April 3, Republican House Speaker Pat Grassley announced that the bill did not have enough support to pass.
While Bayer’s state-level efforts appear to be stalled in most places, the company could still succeed in Washington, D.C. In January, Bayer hired Ballard Partners, the lobbying firm with the closest ties to the Trump administration. At the same time, their ad campaigns began targeting spaces where federal lawmakers and other Beltway insiders with influence on agricultural policy gather and get their news.
For example, in late March, Bayer’s Modern Ag Alliance ran full-page ads in The Washington Post and The New York Times with the headline “Relentless Litigation Threatens Future of American Agriculture.” The ads warned farmers can’t achieve high yields and keep costs low without glyphosate. “This is a real crisis but we have the power to fix it,” it read. “We urge elected officials to stand with farmers over the litigation industry and anti-ag activists.”
In February, the company sponsored Politico’s Morning Ag newsletter. One ad read, “Farming brings $1.5 trillion to America. Bayer is proud to partner with the country’s farmers to help make that possible.” The ad linked to the company’s “glyphosate guide” with information attributing lower food prices, environmental gains, and economic growth to glyphosate use.
And on March 13, the company sponsored a Politico Live event focused on agriculture policy. Bayer’s CEO, Bill Anderson, appeared on stage right after interviews with senators Deb Fischer (R-Nebraska) Tina Smith (D-Minnesota), and Amy Klobuchar (D-Minnesota), the top Democrat on the Senate Agriculture Committee.
At the event, Anderson started by framing Bayer as a company that helps farmers meet pressing challenges. Early in his remarks, he said one of the biggest challenges growers face today is “regulatory ambiguity” around glyphosate. “If a manufacturer can do 50 years of safety studies and be endorsed as safe by every regulatory agency on Earth but still end up with billions of dollars of litigation, that’s really hard, frankly, on the future of innovation,” he said. “So, that’s something that we think is pretty important, and I’ve talked to many farmers. There are a lot of farm groups in Washington, obviously, and they see it the same way. This is essential.”
In support of the pesticide immunity bill, Bayer sent four lobbyists to the Iowa state house and forged alliances with powerful agricultural groups.
When the moderator asked about the upcoming farm bill, Anderson spoke about the Agricultural Labeling Uniformity Act. “One thing that is absolutely essential is we need clarity in pesticide labeling,” he said, explaining that what he sees as a current lack of clarity has powered “frivolous” lawsuits. “So, we have an opportunity in the next farm bill to provide clarity around that. That’s clarity for farmers. That’s clarity for the American public. We think that’s essential.”
The Agricultural Labeling Uniformity Act would codify the fact that the EPA is the single authority on pesticide labels and warnings, making failure-to-warn claims harder to bring in court. It would also ban states from adding their own labels to pesticides. California, for example, previously added a cancer warning to glyphosate products based on the findings of the International Agency for Research on Cancer, which has linked glyphosate exposure to cancer.
Representatives Dusty Johnson (R-South Dakota) and Jim Costa (D-California) introduced the uniform labeling bill in 2023; it has not yet been re-introduced in this Congress. Generally, this kind of legislation would get attached to a farm bill, but since there has been little movement on passing a new farm bill, lawmakers could try to pass it in another way.
In the meantime, Bayer and its allies have been commenting on the petition asking the EPA to introduce a rule that would take similar action to mandate EPA’s authority on labeling and ban additional warnings on its own, without waiting for Congress. When the Trump administration took office, the EPA extended the deadline for comments. Now, the petitioners are awaiting the agency’s review of the comments and, ultimately, a decision.
Advocates in states around the country could turn their attention to those federal efforts.
In Iowa, Diane Rosenberg got her group, Jefferson County Farmers and Neighbors (JFAN), involved in opposing pesticide immunity bills even though it wasn’t their typical fight: JFAN has been opposing the expansion of concentrated animal feeding operations (CAFOs) across Iowa for years.
But Bayer’s attempt to gain immunity from Roundup lawsuits, she said, is similar in the way that big agricultural corporations want to call the shots in rural America.
“Everybody—the neighbor, the farmer, everybody—is basically under the thumb of these corporations,” she said. “The fact these chemical companies want immunity from the harm that their pesticides may have on an individual or many individuals, it’s just not fair. To me, it feels morally bankrupt.”
An earlier edition of this article misstated Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s role as the lead lawyer in the Monsanto lawsuit; he was one of several leading the case.
April 8, 2025 update: After we published this article, a Bayer spokesperson emailed a statement to Civil Eats that reads, in part:
“Proposed legislation at the federal and state level—such as bills being considered in a number of states—would simply help ensure that any pesticide registered with the EPA—and sold under a label consistent with the EPA’s own determinations—is sufficient to satisfy requirements for health and safety warnings.
These bills are important because they reinforce the authority of the EPA’s rigorous, science-backed labeling decisions, so that when the EPA determines what a crop protection label should say, that decision is consistent and reliable for everyone.
The notion of these bills being a blanket immunity shield is a false narrative positioned by the Litigation Industry as a distortion of the truth. No company should be afforded blanket immunity. Plaintiffs regularly allege various causes of action/claims including negligence, Breach of Warranty and others. These are different than failure to warn.”
May 9, 2025 update: In May, Bayer stepped up its federal policy efforts with a promotional installation in the center of Washington, D.C.’s Union Station, steps from Capitol Hill. The installation links glyphosate to lower food prices and includes staff who relay that message to passersby:
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]]>The post Op-ed: How Trump’s Tariffs Could Impact Your Local Restaurant appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Independent restaurants—establishments owned and operated by an individual, family, or small group rather than a larger chain or franchise—are more than places to eat. They’re cultural and economic pillars of our communities, employing 3 percent of the U.S. workforce, generating $75 billion in wages, and contributing over $209 billion in revenue each year.
In recent years these community anchors, which rely on the entire food supply chain, have faced compounding challenges—including the pandemic, climate change, and rising costs. Independent restaurants are no strangers to volatility, but today they face a new, unnecessary hurdle: a trade environment disrupted by tariffs.
When diners sit down for a meal, they often don’t see the complex and vulnerable supply chain that dictates the cost and availability of ingredients. For chefs and restaurant owners, these real-time, existential challenges are as plain as day, threatening not only restaurant viability, but also the local economies and food producers that supports.
“Restaurant owners know a cost increase is coming; they just won’t know when it will happen, what the cost increase will be on which products, or for how long.”
Much attention has been focused on this administration’s tariffs, which will impact food imports and have wide-ranging effects across the food supply chain—not just for restaurants, but also for farmers and for regular folks just trying to afford groceries, let alone a meal at their favorite local eatery.
For restaurants and chefs, tariffs create two major problems. First, there’s the unpredictability. What ingredients will be available next month? Which will suddenly become prohibitively expensive? What will the retaliation look like from global trade partners seeking to protect their own economies?
This uncertainty makes it extremely challenging for restaurants to plan menus, pricing, and procurement strategies—crucial elements of staying afloat in an already challenging business. Furthermore, as the administration threatens tariffs, then pulls back or selectively protects certain industries, it creates further volatility in the market that restaurants must grapple with.
Second, there’s the impact when tariffs actually go into effect. While larger chains and franchises may be better able to protect themselves from the impact, for independent restaurants, which operate on razor-thin margins, the rise in costs could be devastating. Tariffs on imports may drive up prices on everything from wine and cheese to seafood, produce, and grains.
Fruit and produce items that are a key part of many lunch and dinner plates in restaurants across the country—such as avocados, asparagus, and cucumbers—would likely be impacted. Meanwhile, retaliatory tariffs from global trading partners could put additional strain on American farmers or suppliers, making it more expensive to buy domestic products as well.
A trade war could increase input costs for farmers through tariffs on imported goods vital to their business, like fertilizer and machinery, leading to higher food costs. Gas prices could also go up as a result of new tariffs, leading to higher costs for transporting ingredients. Increasing pressures from a trade war and the market volatility that would follow would make it even harder to support farmers, who are the backbone of the restaurant industry.
Restaurants cannot receive an exemption or waiver—they purchase from a range of different suppliers and are impacted in multiple ways. Restaurant owners know a cost increase is coming; they just won’t know when it will happen, what the cost increase will be on which products, or for how long.
“Tariffs on imports may drive up prices on everything from wine and cheese to seafood, produce, and grains.”
Take Gregory Leon, owner and chef of Amilinda, based in Milwaukee. Leon sources wine and sherry from Portugal and Spain and, depending on the time of year, vegetables from Mexico. Tariffs on goods from Europe or our neighbor to the south will have a direct effect on his bottom line and the quality and cost of the product he puts on his customers’ tables. Tariffs on the Canadian fertilizer that the state’s farmers rely on could further increase prices from local sources.
According to The James Beard Foundation 2025 Independent Restaurant Industry Report, after a promising rebound in 2023, there was cautious optimism heading into 2024. But that optimism quickly gave way to a cascade of pressures: rising labor costs, economic uncertainty, and unpredictable external forces. For years, the industry had pointed to the pandemic as the primary disruptor.
But in 2024, there was no single crisis—just a steady accumulation of challenges from every direction. Now, with the added weight of tariffs, the pressure may become unsustainable. For independent restaurants that already operate on single-digit margins, tariffs aren’t just one more hurdle; they’re a potential tipping point for an industry already stretched to its limits.
When it comes to tariffs, we can’t just talk tough. We must use common sense. While some industries have successfully sought carve-outs and exemptions, what happens to an industry like restaurants that has no such escape hatch? When the costs of a range of ingredients and beverages all spike at once, without warning or relief, restaurant owners face impossible choices: raise prices, cut quality, lay off staff, or close their doors. And it leaves the entire food chain without a reliable partner to sell to.
We must stop treating restaurants as afterthoughts in trade policy. Tariffs aren’t just issues for economists or politicians—they’re disrupting what ends up on your plate, who prepares it, and whether that restaurant you love will still be there next month.
It’s time to bring independent restaurants to the policy table. They support our farmers, feed our communities, fuel our economies, and reflect our cultural identity. Independent restaurant owners and the dining public should make clear to their elected officials in Washington—by calling, writing, and meeting with them—that ignoring the realities restaurants are facing is a recipe we simply can’t follow.
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]]>The post Farmworker Unions on the Rise in New York, Joined by the United Farm Workers appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>On January 30, President Trump’s announcement that his administration would begin deporting immigrants to Guantánamo Bay prison made big news.
Meanwhile, at an apple orchard in upstate New York, immigrant farmworkers signed the first United Farm Workers (UFW) union contract in the state, joining the legendary California-based union founded in 1962 by Cesar Chavez and Dolores Huerta. Most of the orchard workers were Jamaicans who are granted entry to the country through the government’s H-2A visa program for just a few months each year during harvest season. But going forward, the new contract will offer protections for all of the orchard’s approximately 150 workers, regardless of where they come from or what their legal status might be.
“There is a lot of fear. There is a lot of worry. There are also conversations happening around, ‘How do we build solidarity?’”
“It doesn’t matter if they crossed through the desert or if they came through a [guestworker] program,” said UFW organizer Gabriella Szpunt, who helped organize the workers. “At the end of the day, they’re all looking for the same thing: something better for their families.”
UFW leaders say the contract is significant for several reasons. First, during the process, farm groups in New York filed a lawsuit challenging the right of guestworkers to unionize. But the court affirmed that right, creating a precedent at a time when the number of workers coming to farms on H-2A visas has grown exponentially. While the Farm Labor Organizing Committee (FLOC) first organized H-2A workers in North Carolina in the 1990s, very few guestworkers to date have union protection.
It also marks the historic farmworker union’s first of many steps toward expanding its reach beyond its headquarters in California: UFW already has eight additional New York contracts in the pipeline.
And it’s part of a broader organizing push that involves other unions and worker groups, still moving forward in the face of an aggressively anti-immigrant administration in Washington, D.C. For instance, Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem recently launched a multimillion-dollar ad campaign in which she tells immigrants, “We will hunt you down.” Last week, Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) arrested and detained farmworker and activist Alfredo Juarez Zeferino, who helped create an independent farmworker union in Washington state about 10 years ago.
“There is a lot of fear. There is a lot of worry,” said Fabiola Ortiz Valdez, the director of organizing at Food Chain Workers Alliance, a coalition of labor groups across the food system. Valdez said that while she doesn’t want to minimize the impact the immigration crackdown is having on food and farmworkers, moments of crisis can also provide opportunities. “There are also conversations happening around, ‘How do we build solidarity?’” she said.
The Rise, Decline, and Return of Farmworker Unions
Today, to mark Cesar Chavez Day, more than 5,000 UFW workers, allies, and supporters will march in Delano, California to call attention to the role immigrants play in putting food on American tables. They’ll end at the UFW union hall at 40 Acres, where grape growers gathered in 1970 to sign their first UFW contracts.
In those early days, UFW founders Chavez, Huerta, and Larry Itliong built a movement that at its peak saw 60,000 unionized farmworkers planting and harvesting across California’s abundant fields and orchards.
Over the last several decades, their numbers have dwindled, alongside a much larger decline in unionization across all industries. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, in 1983, the first year similar data was available, the union membership rate in the U.S. was 20 percent. By 2024, it had been cut in half to less than 10 percent. Compared to other industries, agriculture had one of the lowest rates of all, at 1.4 percent.
Immigration status is one reason farmworkers have lagged behind other workers in organizing unions. The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) estimates that about half of farmworkers lack legal authorization to work in the U.S, while temporary H-2A workers depend on their employers for legal status. Fear of deportation, or of not being called back the following year, is a constant.
In addition, federal laws that prohibit employers from firing or retaliating against workers for joining a union exclude farmworkers. Since 1975, California has extended those protections to farmworkers.
New York has only recently followed suit. In May 2019, farmworkers backed by the Workers’ Center of Central New York (WCCNY) and the Worker Justice Center of New York (WJCNY) won a court case in which they argued that New York’s state constitution guarantees farmworkers the right to organize. Two months later, former Governor Andrew Cuomo signed a bill into law that prohibited employers from firing or retaliating against farmworkers who organize; the bill also granted farmworkers overtime pay, one day of rest each week, and other protections.
That prompted a surge in organizing, although the pandemic initially created a delay. In September 2021, Local 338 RWDSU/UFCW, a union that represents workers in grocery stores and other industries, certified the first union contract for New York farmworkers. Twelve workers at Pindar Vineyards on Long Island were the first, and Local 338 has since organized workers at two additional Long Island vineyards.
Organizing in New York’s Apple Orchards
Armando Elenes, the secretary treasurer of UFW, told Civil Eats that when the union began looking at New York, the team decided to focus on the western part of the state because of the density of larger farms, primarily apple orchards. After the pandemic delay, they began reaching out to hundreds of workers and educating them about the protections the new state law afforded them.
In spring of 2022, Szpunt, the UFW organizer, started meeting with workers at Cahoon Farms, an apple orchard that also does its own processing to sell, fresh, frozen, and dried apples in addition to apple juice. “When I first related this possibility to these workers, they were just in shock that anybody cared and that anybody had a mechanism for them to advocate for themselves,” she said. That changed quickly once they understood the opportunity, she said.
“I was excited, because it’s a chance for us to get some fair treatment.”
Martin Griffiths is from Jamaica and started coming to the U.S. in 2018, as he puts it, “bottom line, to make things better for yourself.” Griffiths ended up at Cahoon through the H-2A program, where he climbed ladders of various heights with a picking bag to harvest apples. Depending on whether the apples would be sold fresh or processed, he said, he’d have to work carefully, to avoid bruising, or faster, to prioritize volume.
Management counted the bins of apples filled at the end of a shift to make sure workers met productivity standards. He said the hours were long, usually 7 a.m. until 5 p.m., and the work was hard. Primarily, he said, he felt like he and his fellow workers had a hard time standing up for themselves with management. When UFW showed up and proposed organizing a union, “I was excited, because it’s a chance for us to get some fair treatment,” he said.
The process of organizing was slow, partially because workers like Griffiths go home to Jamaica in the off-season, so meetings had to be arranged remotely, over WhatsApp and Zoom. Then, organizers hit another snag, when Cahoon, a few other allied farms, and the New York State Vegetable Growers Association filed a lawsuit that claimed the new union protections should not apply to guestworkers.
“We weren’t expecting them to challenge the right of H-2A workers to organize, but they did,” Elenes said. The farmers’ lawsuit put a freeze on the efforts for about six months, but the state ultimately prevailed with its argument that the law applies to guestworkers as well.
“That was important, because we believe that every worker, no matter what your status is, should have the right to organize,” Elenes said. “We don’t want to be in the game of playing undocumented workers against citizens or undocumented workers against H-2A workers.”
When the UFW contract was finally officially certified in January of this year, it included wage increases and bonuses, a retirement plan, nine paid holidays, and several other provisions. One provision that is especially important to Griffiths requires Cahoon to recall guestworkers each year based on seniority, so they can return season after season, which will provide some job security he and others previously lacked. Also, receiving 401(k) benefits is key, Elenes said, since guestworkers are not eligible to receive Social Security benefits when they retire.
But Griffiths kept coming back to something less tangible the union gave him: a sense of empowerment. “Now, since the contract, we feel a little more safe,” he said. “It’s never been about the money. It’s about respect.”
Cahoon Farms did not respond to a request for comment.
The Future of Farmworker Organizing
With that momentum, Elenes and Szpunt are now organizing farmworkers at eight other New York farms, primarily apple orchards, but also vegetable farms. Things have certainly gotten harder since Trump’s election, Szpunt said. “Just a simple act of visiting a worker at their home: They’re more afraid to even just open a door,” she said.
But UFW also points to recent successes in California, including a new contract at a sweet-potato farm in Merced that covers 1,200 workers. Today’s march in Delano also signals a network of support for the union.
Valdez, at Food Chain Workers Alliance, said that while the new legal protection from retaliation is critical, immigrant farmworkers in New York have been organizing in other ways for many years. In early 2019, for example, a coalition was able to get a law passed allowing undocumented workers to get drivers’ licenses, giving more agency to farmworkers who were once isolated on farms. Farmworkers have also organized for their rights through worker centers and committees and tribunals.
“Unions are such a key part of the labor movement, but they’re not the only piece,” Valdez said.
“I think the best thing is for farmworkers to decide what model and what structure works for them.”
Griffiths, who will return to Cahoon to start the apple harvest in August, feels confident about his decision to become a member of the UFW. “It was definitely worth it,” he said, even though during the organizing process, he lost out on work before the union was able to prove he was retaliated against for organizing.
“Basically, I say the contract is definitely a good thing, and I would encourage any worker not to be afraid to do it,” he said.
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]]>The post Will Local Food Survive Trump’s USDA? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In November, after months of finishing complicated paperwork, developing infrastructure, and building relationships, the pieces were finally in place for Emma Jagoz to start fulfilling a new contract to sell fresh fruits and vegetables to Maryland schools.
It was terrible timing. Jagoz, owner of Moon Valley Farm, grows organic vegetables on 70 acres near Frederick, Maryland, while also acting as an aggregator of produce from about 50 other small farms in the region. By November, the bulk of the Mid-Atlantic harvest had been sold. Despite that, in the months since, she managed to move more than 300,000 pounds of apples and pears, about 10,000 heads of lettuce, and more than 30,000 pounds of broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, and squash into hundreds of schools in 12 Maryland counties.
“What this means from a bigger picture is that people are not going to have access to as much local food, and our farmers are already going into debt.”
All of it was enabled by a U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) initiative called the Local Food for Schools Cooperative Agreement Program, which had active contracts in 43 states and was meant to make it easier for schools to serve students fresh food from small farms. The USDA had also funded a related initiative set up to move local farm harvests into food banks, called the Local Food Purchase Assistance Cooperative Agreement Program. The agency had invested more than $1 billion in the two programs since 2020 and was queued up to spend another $1 billion.
Last week, President Trump’s Secretary of Agriculture, Brooke Rollins, canceled both.
The day after the announcement, Jagoz, who has other USDA grant contracts that are also paused, told Civil Eats she couldn’t get a straight answer as to whether she’d be able to finish out the current contract through May, and she was devastated that renewal was off the table.
“I’m heartbroken about this because a lot of these students that we’re serving, this is their only meal in a day,” she said, and she believed replacing the often-processed school meals with fresh food grown nearby undoubtedly provided a nutrient boost. “I care less about the financial hit. I care about it, I’m a business owner, but I’m also a mother,” she said.
Five years ago, when COVID-19 scrambled the world’s supply chains, leaving grocery shelves bare, Americans turned to small farms in their communities as a more reliable source of nourishment. Those farms had already been expanding due to a movement toward local food as a way to produce healthier, regenerative foods while paying farmers more for their crops and therefore rebuilding a rural America hollowed out by consolidation.
In that moment of crisis, the resilience and adaptability those farms, ranches, markets, and food hubs demonstrated sparked new policies and investments in local and regional food systems. Under President Biden, the USDA became a primary funder, expanding a suite of programs that support regional food systems from seed to processing to plate.
Students at a Washington, D.C. public school gather around a salad bar. Last week, the USDA cut an initiative called the Local Food for Schools Cooperative Agreement Program, which helped schools receive fresh ingredients from small farms. (Photo credit: Paul Sale/USDA)
Just two months into the Trump administration, that steadily growing ecosystem of producers, processors, and distributors is being bulldozed.
USDA’s cancellation of the Local Food for Schools and Local Food Purchase Assistance programs has garnered headlines, but they are just two of more than a dozen programs supporting small farms and regional food infrastructure that have been impacted.
The agency has also canceled individual contracts—within programs including the Farmers Market Promotion Program and the Local Food Promotion Program—with groups that train young farmers, provide technical assistance to small farms, and help connect small farms to markets in their local communities, based on words like “equitable” appearing in their contracts.
Payments to grantees in the $3.1 billion Partnership for Climate-Smart Commodities Program are paused, and a private contract canceled by DOGE threatens some grantees’ ability to continue. Within some programs—including Organic Market Development Grants, the Resilient Food Systems Infrastructure Program, and the Environmental Quality Incentives Program—payments have started up again for some farmers and groups but not for others. Farmers and farm groups are also waiting to find out if new contracts they spent months working on will be thrown out.
The impacts of pauses and cancellations are widespread, affecting a livestock feed-processing facility in Montana, tribes working on Native food sovereignty in Kansas, a community-supported fishery project in Maine, and many more.
At the same time, the agency has worked quickly to distribute “economic relief” funding authorized by Congress last December for commodity farmers. Farmers who grow corn, soybeans, oilseeds, and other row crops will be able to apply for direct payments starting today.
“Let’s not forget that canned food is also wholesome. . . . So that’s always an option as well.”
Some of the grant payments may be unfrozen as USDA continues its review of contracts. Legal challenges have already begun, and others are being considered. But sources told Civil Eats that regardless of what happens next, there will be long-term impacts, especially because all of this is happening at a critical time of year for many farmers and the organizations that support them—a period when crop planning and field prep must be completed to get plants in the ground on time.
“What this means from a bigger picture is that people are not going to have access to as much local food, and our farmers are already going into debt,” said Sadie Willis, the network coordinator for Wisconsin’s Fairshare CSA Coalition.
Democrats in the House and the Senate are pushing back. At a recent Politico event, Senator Tina Smith (D-Minnesota), a member of the Senate Agriculture Committee, condemned the cuts. “Over the last 10 years or so, we have done so much good work at the federal level and at the state level to build connections between local producers and schools in their communities so that kids can have healthy foods and local producers can have markets for the food that they’re producing. This has been highly successful,” she said. “So, I think what they’re doing [now] is completely wrong.”
In response to a similar question about cuts to the program that allows food banks to purchase more local produce, Senator Deb Fischer (R-Nebraska) said that while she supports food banks having fresh food available, “Let’s not forget that canned food is also wholesome. . . . So that’s always an option as well.”
Secretary Rollins has defended the cuts and publicly touted grant cancellations on her Instagram as examples of waste now being eliminated. (A particular grant she pointed to was an award to Agroecology Commons, an organization that trains and provides resources to beginning farmers in the Bay Area.)
Some contract cancellation letters reviewed by Civil Eats state that a given award “no longer effectuates USDA priorities, which are to maximize and promote American agriculture; ensure a safe, nutritious, and secure food supply; enhance rural prosperity; and protect our National Forests.” But advocates for local food say these investments are exactly what is needed to support American health, farm resilience, and rural communities.
“The proof is in the numbers,” said Theresa McCormick, executive director of The Good Acre, a food hub that works with farms in Minnesota, northern Iowa, and western Wisconsin. “What we know from the USDA is that for every $1 that’s moving through The Good Acre, it’s a direct $1.72 benefit to the community,” she said. “Because this type of work has so many stacked and layered benefits, small investments have a big, big, big payoff. When we look at health, when we look at rural economies, when we look at American agriculture and making sure that our small farmers can be competitive and our local farmers can feed our local families, the numbers are there.”
The USDA did not respond to a request for comment or to questions about the status of specific grant programs.
A push to aggregate food from small farms in order to get it into institutions including hospitals, universities, and schools has been in the works for decades, with successes and failures along the way. While Democrats have been the primary champions of policies that support the work over the past decade, some programs, like those that move local food into schools, have had bipartisan support.
USDA grants are meant to help producers and others in the supply chain overcome initial challenges to making it work, like higher costs and complicated logistics that prevent regional growers from being able to compete with the large global companies that dominate a consolidated food system.
One of the biggest hurdles for Moon Valley, Jagoz said, was creating a system that worked for farms and the schools she wanted to sell to. “School menus are written out months in advance, and schools have a massive variability in equipment and staff,” she said. One might not have the kitchen equipment needed to peel and cook and store raw carrots, for example.
Grant funding through the Local Food for Schools program was meant to help defer some of those initial costs so that the local farmers could compete with the easier, low-cost route schools often have to take by ordering packaged, ready-to-heat foods that are often highly processed.
“So, it’s not just the money,” she said. “We’ve built a system that allows farmers to reach schools, using our software and using the contacts we’ve developed.” Some schools may be able to continue to make purchases on their own, but others likely won’t have the budget, she said.
“If this administration truly wants to make America healthy, cutting programs that create reliable markets for U.S. farmers and ranchers and that increase access to fresh produce for children is not the answer,” said Joelle Johnson, MPH, deputy director at the food and health watchdog organization the Center for Science in the Public Interest, speaking to the cancellation of the Local Food for Schools program.
In Minnesota, The Good Acre food hub works with about 150 farms, McCormick said. In 2024, their sales were $3 million, a number that’s doubled since 2021. As the business has grown, the team has been able to leverage federal grants that allow them to sell into food banks and schools to significantly expand their sales to private businesses including restaurants, co-ops, and other retailers. About half of the farmers who started growing for The Good Acre’s farm-to-hunger relief program have also gone on to access larger wholesale market contracts, she said.
“This is truly economic development for our rural communities,” McCormick said.
When Trump came into office, The Good Acre’s current contracts with USDA were frozen, but the agency has since restarted payments to them. At the same time, McCormick is hearing from many farmers and other institutions in the food hub’s network who are still waiting for funds or have had contracts cancelled.
“We’ve heard from so many foundations about, ‘How in the world do you start to plug all the holes?’” she said. Food hubs are going to have to plan differently, she said, “to make sure that we’re not losing so much that we gained from the last crisis we were responding to.”
In Madison, Wisconsin, the Fairshare CSA Coalition looks forward to National CSA Week every February.
It’s the nonprofit’s biggest week of the year, said Willis, when small farms all over the country use Fairshare’s resources to mobilize members of their communities to sign up for community supported agriculture shares for the coming season. “We estimate about 2.5 million consumers are reached through CSA Week efforts and could get connected with local farms,” she said.
Farmers tour Choy Division, a CSA farm in Chester, NY, with the CSA Innovation Network. (Photo credit: Sadie Willis/FairShare CSA Coalition)
This year, CSA Week started on February 16. Two days before, Fairshare received a letter from the USDA notifying the team that one of their grant contracts was terminated.
While Fairshare was created by a group of growers to support small-scale local vegetable farms more than 30 years ago, Farmers’ Market Promotion Program grants from the USDA had allowed them to expand their reach nationally in recent years. In 2015, they created the National CSA Innovation Network to act as a public resource for farmers across the country, with marketing materials, webinars, and other tools.
The USDA awarded the most recent grant for $500,000 to the network in October. Fairshare planned to use it to pay for research to inform new marketing materials farmers could use to attract CSA customers and to pay farmers to be part of a committee that would share skills and resources.
Willis said they had only spent 3.5 percent of the grant funds to date. After CSA Week wrapped up, they put all the work on hold. The USDA said the grant was canceled because it was flagged as “diversity, equity, and inclusion programs and activities.” Its title was “CSA for All: Strategic Marketing for Equitable CSA Expansion.”
“It was a really valuable investment of funding to expand the amount of local foods that people across the U.S. would have access to while bolstering the ability for farmers to successfully reach those consumers and have pathways to sell their food through this CSA model,” Willis said.
While Fairshare has not had to lay off staff yet, further east in Pennsylvania, Pasa Sustainable Agriculture recently announced it will furlough most of its staff, about 60 people, on April 2.
Pasa had scaled up its staff over the past two years as the lead partner of a $59 million Partnerships for Climate Smart Commodities project to deliver payments to farmers to implement conservation practices in 15 states. Since Trump took office, payments to grantees in the larger program across the country have been frozen; his Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) also canceled a private contract that enabled some of the work to get done.
While the Biden-era grant program was primarily focused on climate action, the regenerative practices it paid farmers for are the same ones that build soil health and therefore farm resilience on other fronts, including helping farmers hold water on their land during drought and preventing erosion during storms and extreme flooding. The ongoing pause is already having cascading effects on small farms selling into local markets and will ripple out even farther if the program is canceled, sources told Civil Eats.
Pasa, for example, is the premier provider of technical support for small farms in the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic, and its ability to continue to provide that support is threatened. At the same time, Future Harvest, another Mid-Atlantic farm organization with reach that extends further south, won’t be able to pick up the slack, said Executive Director Grace Leatherman.
Future Harvest has multiple USDA grants. Some payments have been delayed but are still being made, while other grants have been paused. “We’re still waiting for some significant reimbursements for work that we did in quarter four,” Leatherman said. In the meantime, she worries they will have to lay staff off if the situation doesn’t improve.
While the organization’s flagship Beginning Farmer Training Program is safe because it’s being funded by American University this year, she said, other farmer support is at risk.
“If nothing changes, we’re going to have to dramatically limit technical and financial assistance to farmers in terms of soil health and conservation, and we’re really worried about that,” she said, noting that not only will Pasa be providing less help, but the USDA is also cutting staff in local Natural Resources Conservation Service (NRCS) offices.
NRCS employees are USDA’s boots on the ground; they help farmers implement conservation practices and connect them to financial assistance. “Farmers are really going to be looking at a lot less support in the coming year, Leatherman said.”
Up on the coast of Maine, Togue Brawn, a fisheries manager by training, was a stranger to USDA grant programs before the agency undertook a recent push to extend support to aquaculture growers and other local seafood efforts.
After discovering that local scallop fishermen were losing out by having to sell their premium products into commercial supply chains, Brawn created Downeast Dayboat to get those fishermen better prices for their products. The company started by buying scallops directly from the dock and shipping them to customers within 24 hours.
“The typical distribution network for seafood does not lend itself to providing high-quality, transparently sourced seafood,” she explained. “My program offers less-expensive, super high-quality domestic seafood, but I also pay fishermen better prices.”
Brawn had always wanted to find a way to sell more of Maine’s local seafood within the region, and in the last few years was inspired by community supported fishery models. In 2023, the USDA awarded her a $350,000 Local Food Promotion Program (LFPP) grant to get her own project off the ground. With that start-up capital in hand, she thought she could build a self-sufficient business that moved more local seafood into communities by the end of the grant contract in October 2025.
“I hired a program director. I set up the website. I have the software. I’ve arranged with some community partners,” she said. In January, the first orders went out and it was time for her to kick promotion of the new sales channel into high gear. Then, payments stopped and her contact at the USDA said they would only be able to reimburse her for money spent before January 20.
Now, she’s in limbo. “I don’t know if I’m going to be compensated for the money that I’ve outlaid. I’ve had to borrow money from my mother,” she said. “Think of the loss in productivity. I’m spending all my time trying to figure out how to fund my business and whether I should lay off my project director. This is not an efficient way to run a business.”
Back in her Maryland fields, Jagoz is thinking similar thoughts. She is in the thick of planning for a busy season ahead and would rather be thinking about transplants and deliveries than whether she’ll have to adjust her crop plan or find new markets for vegetables intended for elementary school students nearby.
“These programs support the health and education of our children, and it’s domestic production for domestic consumption,” she said. Of the new administration’s approach so far, she said, “I don’t really understand it, unless their stated goals are not their actual goals.”
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]]>The post A New Path for Small Farmers in the Southeast? appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In 2016, Willis Nelson and his three brothers—third-generation Black farmers—started a farming venture with 40 acres in rural Sondheimer, Louisiana. Located on the western bank of the Mississippi River, the family farm now spans roughly 4,000 acres and produces corn, cotton, soybeans, wheat, and milo.
Getting to this current size wasn’t easy, however. In their first attempt to scale up and acquire 640 acres, the brothers turned to the Farm Service Agency (FSA), a loan-making entity of the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA).
“When we got to the FSA, it was just bad,” says Nelson. “It seemed like they were looking for any reason not to give us a loan.” Nelson and his brothers were repeatedly told that the farm’s paperwork was incorrect and asked to produce what they say was an unnecessary amount of financial documentation.
Despite having a signed contract with the USDA and an agreed-upon work plan, the bank’s launch is now on pause alongside many other USDA programs as they each await review.
“We couldn’t even get a guaranteed loan from other banks, because they kept saying we didn’t have enough cash flow,” says Nelson. This continued for four years until Nelson and his brothers were approached by First Southern Bank after their farm got a writeup in The Christian Science Monitor. The community-oriented bank gave the Nelson brothers their first loan to fully fund their farming venture.
A new effort seeks to jumpstart and sustain small farmers and other agricultural-based businesses in the southeastern United States. The Southern Farmers Financial Association (SFFA) is a cooperative, mission-driven bank designed to lower the barriers to accessing credit for small farmers, especially those in high-poverty and low-resource areas. Historically, limited-resource farmers, often Black farmers and farmers of color, have faced systemic barriers and discriminatory practices when seeking financial support from traditional lending institutions, including governmental agencies.
“This [bank] is about making sure that agriculture works for all and that our rural communities survive,” says Cornelius Blanding, executive director of the Federation of Southern Cooperatives/Land Assistance Fund, a nonprofit organization that supports Black farmers, landowners, and cooperatives with various land retention and advocacy efforts across the South. As the leading partner of the SFFA, the Federation will help the new bank build upon its existing infrastructure across the region and support it with its outreach, education, and technical assistance.
The Biden-Harris Administration’s Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) provided the SFFA effort with $20 million in initial funding to be dispersed through the USDA—and the bank has had plans to open its doors towards the end of the first quarter of 2025. However, with the Trump administration’s sweeping executive orders and recent crackdown on alleged “radical and wasteful programs,” as well as programs related to diversity, equity, inclusion, and accessibility (DEIA) and climate change, things are now uncertain.
“While we hadn’t used that language around the bank and don’t consider it to be DEIA, we’re in jeopardy for being labeled as such because of their way of looking at this,” Blanding says. Despite having a signed contract with the USDA and an agreed-upon work plan, the bank’s launch is now on pause alongside many other USDA programs as they each await review.
After review, the SFFA will either be modified to fit new guidelines or completely terminated.
“We’re hoping for the best case and that it will be some kind of modification,” says Blanding.
Farmers of color have long encountered discrimination at the hands of the USDA. They have been consistently denied small loans and access to grant programs, subsidy payments, and other assistance the agency would typically guarantee, resulting in substantial economic losses. The Pigford v. Glickman class-action lawsuit, filed by Black farmer Timothy Pigford against the USDA in 1999, was the culmination of years of discrimination.
SFFA leaders gather for the press conference launch of the green bank in late October of 2024. (Photo credit: Federation for Southern Cooperatives/Land Assistance Fund Archives)
The concept of a mission-driven—or green—bank started over a decade ago after an informal convening of farmers in Atlanta, Georgia. “Many of the folks who were a part of that convening had been working on the Black farmer lawsuit since 1999, and it was the center of those conversations,” Blanding says.
Those involved in the convening realized that access to credit—which provides the startup capital that most farmers seek to purchase supplies, seeds, and technology—continued to be one of the most significant barriers to low-resource farmers in the region. As a result, they formed committees and dedicated working groups where, eventually, the idea of a cooperative green bank took root.
“When you look at the data, the majority of Black farmers, the majority of low-resource farmers, [and] a majority of farmers of color are located in the Southeast,” Blanding says. This disparity was a significant factor in the decision to base the SFFA in the Southeast region. Headquartered in Atlanta, Georgia, the bank will serve Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, and Texas with virtual hubs.
What sets this bank—intended for farmers, landowners, and agriculture-based businesses—apart from a standard bank is its strict focus on agriculture and strengthening rural communities. In the eyes of many traditional lending institutions, a low-resource farm may not be bankable. The SFFA will have a different approach to collateral.
“It’s not about tying up the assets of a farmer or landowner to the point where they can’t survive or don’t have other options,” says Blanding. “It’s about getting to ‘yes’ and working with folks from where they are.”
In partnership with community-based organizations, the SFFA is designed to figure out alternative ways to get those who own land, farm, or run other ag-based enterprises to the point where they are financially viable. The bank is intended to serve as a revolving loan fund that offers reasonable interest rates—and will ideally grow to have assets, enabling it to continue providing financial resources to a farm long after its initial disbursement.
While it is not a grant-making institution, Blanding sees the cooperative green bank as having multiple arms that can have grant-type resources and provide gap financing—a short-term loan or credit line that covers the difference needed for an immediate financial obligation.
To help ensure it remains aligned with the needs and priorities of the farming communities it serves, the SFFA also plans to have various classes of membership for its borrowers. As in a traditional cooperative, members will get a share of earnings and will receive dividends.
Class A membership will give member-owners the highest voting power and the ability to invest more significant sums of money in the cooperative, explains Ben Burkett, longtime farm advocate and the Federation’s Mississippi state coordinator, who, alongside Blanding, was a part of the initial conversations that conceptualized the SFFA. Class B and C cooperative members can invest some capital but have limited to no voting rights.
For low-resource farmers and others in the Southeast, the SFFA would be a safety net that has never existed before. “There are many community-based organizations doing a lot of work with Black farmers and socially disadvantaged farmers,” Blanding says. “This [green bank] is not intended to replicate any of that, but to step in the middle and provide things there weren’t available until now.”
Though its future is uncertain, Blanding believes that the SFFA would be another step in the right direction for justice.
The Pigford lawsuit eventually led to the most robust civil rights settlement in U.S. history, totaling just over $1 billion. However, payouts did not begin for another 15 years, and were only partial. In 2023, the USDA launched the Discrimination Financial Assistance Program and a year later issued payouts to farmers, ranchers, and landowners who had experienced discrimination. “It doesn’t repair what happened historically, but it acknowledges it,” Blanding says.
“When you look at the data, the majority of Black farmers, the majority of low-resource farmers, [and] a majority of farmers of color are located in the Southeast.”
Despite this progress, discrimination remains. Even as recently as 2022, Black farmers had the highest USDA loan rejection rate of any demographic group: 36 percent of Black farmers who applied were approved for direct loans, compared to 72 percent of white farmers, according to an analysis by National Public Radio.
And while Burkett has been a successful farmer for decades, he still experiences the bias that lending institutions hold toward Black farmers. Last year, for example, Burkett financed a tractor with a cooperative credit institution that Burkett has been a member of for over 30 years.
“They took that tractor for collateral, and then they took another one of my tractors and a piece of my equipment,” Burkett says.
The SFFA aims to address the patterns of injustice by, most importantly, acknowledging the historic hurdles low-resource farmers and farmers of color have faced. “No farmer would be discriminated against at this bank, no matter the situation he or she is coming from,” says Blanding. Secondly, farmers have faced injustices simply based on their lack of access to credit. That is the specific problem that the bank is trying to solve.
“We think we can reverse those patterns by addressing those two issues,” says Blanding.
Nelson, whose farm is in the northeast corner of Louisiana, sees a desperate need for the SFFA’s reinvestment in smaller operations. Small farmers near him have faced many problems in recent years, such as climate-change impacts, land loss, and being denied financial assistance.
Willis Nelson and son Wil’laddyn Nelson standing in a soybean field on the Nelson & Sons Farm. (Photo credit: Willis Nelson)
“I’ve been seeing with all the farmers that there is difficulty in making their cash flow,” says Nelson, who is also a current member of the Federation and a board member of the National Black Growers Council. “It’s been a rough four years for the Southeast.”
Considering the high cost of starting and scaling farming operations, many farmers never see investment returns, says Blanding. And farms that are smaller in acreage are more vulnerable to a number of issues that can quickly become financially burdensome.
Climate change—specifically extreme drought and floods—causes many issues for small farmers in particular. With the more intense heat, drought, and storms brought on by the changing climate, “It’s not the original growing seasons that we’re used to,” Nelson says. His farm has been working to keep its yields up and keep up with inflation.
Lenders often want to see the farm’s profitability alongside other factors such as income, credit score, and business plan. Because of the extreme weather, farmers with smaller operations suffer more substantial losses than larger farmers—making it more challenging to get the capital they need to stay afloat.
Alongside climate change, the changing demographics of the farming community creates another challenge. “Some of us [farmers of color] are still losing land,” Nelson says. Additionally, most land in the area is passed down through succession, from one generation to the next, but the youth no longer have as much interest in farming or they lack the resources to start. In many places, people have sold their land or private entities have taken it over. “It’s not family farming anymore,” Nelson says.
“Agriculture is a huge and important part of what this country is. The more people who are part of it and succeeding in it, the better off we are as a nation.”
Burkett also sees medium-size farming operations, or those with gross sales between $100,000 and $400,000 annually, facing outsize problems. “Mid-size farmers—what I call true family farms—are totally being squeezed out” as many farms in the area have had to cease operations or downsize, he says. Farms can either get really big or stay small, says Burkett.
“It just costs so much to do business now with the cost of equipment, labor, industry requirements, safety, rules and regulations,” Burkett says. “You’ve got to have a full-time man or woman just to keep up with those targets.”
Nelson believes a cooperative green bank could help family farmers navigate challenges like these. On his farm, a bank loan would help him carry out certain upgrades, such as installing underground irrigation to prepare for drought.
In the absence of a bank like the SFFA, Nelson had to go through the USDA’s cost share program, known as the Environmental Quality Incentives Program (EQIP), to get the equipment he needed to drain the water from his land after a recent flood. The program covered 70 percent of the cost, but Nelson still had to put up 30 percent, impacting other farm needs. And while programs like EQIP are helpful, the funding is limited, not guaranteed, and can require a lengthy wait.
Additionally, some EQIP funding has been paused since the start of the new administration while the USDA conducts a review of grant contracts to determine if they align with President Trump’s executive orders rolling back climate projects and work that prioritizes equity or diversity. While a court ordered the funds to be unfrozen, the agency has only released small batches of that money.
EQIP was one of several programs that got a bump in funding from the Biden-era Inflation Reduction Act for farm projects that prioritized climate goals, so some farmers’ contracts may also be at risk of cancellation. As funding through EQIP and the vast suite of farm programs the USDA runs becomes more uncertain, SFFA could become an even more vital resource—assuming it continues.
Nelson sees the SFFA as a key to rebuilding the farming community from the ground up. With backing from the green bank, reinvestment can look like community-led gardens and agricultural programs that lower the entry point for new farmers. This could mean enabling new or existing small farms to acquire small amounts of acreage, helping them become financially viable and putting them in a position to scale up.
“We [farmers in the area] don’t have to have 1,000 acres to start [farming]—we can get back to the 40- or 100- acre farms, and the rest will follow,” Nelson says.
Nelson believes a localized lending institution like the SFFA would be an enormous first step in rebuilding the assets of farming communities like his across the Southeast. Alongside the lending, Nelson wants to see the cooperative green bank offer financial workshops to teach farmers how to fill out balance sheets, create basic budgets, and manage profit and loss—all skills critical to their survival.
“I’m willing to give my time because we have to make something out of this,” Nelson says.
Late last year, the first portion of the IRA funds were released—just over a million dollars. These funds have already been used to hire a permanent CEO and set up the bank’s infrastructure. Now, the bank founders are waiting to hear from the USDA to learn if and when they will receive the rest of the funding needed to move forward and whether the program will be modified—or, worst case, terminated.
In the meantime, they have been in conversation with aligned organizations like the Native American Financial Services and entities that work with low-resource farmers, such as the Farm Credit System, to spread the word across the Southeast to make sure that farm-adjacent people fully understand what the cooperative green bank offers, and that they can trust it.
The response to the forthcoming cooperative green bank has been overwhelmingly positive. The main question that Blanding and SFFA leadership have heard over the past few months is, “When will it open?”
Since the SFFA’s initial conceptualization, the Federation for Southern Cooperatives has kept its membership abreast and in touch with people inside and outside their farming community.
“Agriculture is a huge and important part of what this country is,” Blanding says. “The more people who are part of it and succeeding in it, the better off we are as a nation.”
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]]>The post As Tariffs Slam Maple Syrup, Sugarmakers Branch Out appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>You can tell a sugarhouse is making syrup when steam starts billowing across the rooftops, whether from a small shack in the woods or a brick building downtown. That’s the sign of thousands of gallons of maple sap being processed and bottled into a golden pour, delectably described by the poet Elaine Equi as a “high-pitched sweetness, so piercing only a dog can hear it.”
While steam rises from the houses, spring snow settles among the groves. It is this forested serenity that Steve Wheeler, a fifth-generation sugarmaker, loves best. Wheeler runs the family’s certified organic maple farm, where, at the age of six, he first started helping his father and grandfather make syrup. Back then, they collected sap in galvanized buckets and hauled them back through the snowy woods. “I’ve spent 50 years making maple syrup,” Wheeler says, “and you’re still excited about next sugar season.”
A stiff tariff from the Trump administration on Canadian goods, including the equipment used to make syrup, has unsettled the industry.
Wheeler operates his sugarbush with his wife and two sons in the small agriculture-rich town of Derby, Vermont. He hopes to continue running the farm and shop well into the future, passing it on to his descendants if he can. But things have not been so clear cut for sugarmakers lately. A stiff tariff from the Trump administration on Canadian goods, including the equipment used to make syrup, has unsettled the industry and could drive up the price of U.S. syrup. This has coincided with a slow syrup run in February. Such short-term woes are combining with longer-term concerns, as a changing climate alters both production and the business model.
So the Wheelers and other sugarmakers are expanding into other tree syrups, to fortify their businesses in the face of changing weather (political and actual) and in hopes of keeping forests healthy. Researchers and farmers alike are investigating species like beech, sycamore, walnut, and even other species of maple.
“When all of a sudden you can tap a birch tree too, it’s almost magic to me,” Wheeler says. “It’s like one more thing I can do.”
Maple syrups producers, or sugarmakers, are dependent on a single product harvested in a window of just a few weeks every spring. Mark Isselhardt, a maple specialist for the University of Vermont Extension, says that means the biggest challenge to producers is the weather.
“You’re really talking about a relatively small number of actual days that contribute the vast majority of sap for your whole crop,” Isselhardt says. “If it’s all condensed into this few number of days, if anything goes wrong, mechanically or climate-wise or weather-wise, that can have an impact on production.”
Maple syrup also depends on a freeze-thaw cycle: When temperatures are below freezing at night but above it in the day, the difference in air pressure helps push sap through the tree and out through the taps. The increase in unpredictability from both climate change and other risks, like invasive species and disease, present challenges to producers, creating uncertainty for the future.
Bigger swings in temperature, for instance, mean a much more variable tapping window than decades past. The Wheelers are now tapping maples about two months earlier, for example. Abnormally high temperatures could cause maples to bud too soon, impacting the grade of the syrup. On the other hand, warmer weather can also make the sap flow better in areas that have historically been too cold. Either way, sugarmakers foresee more adaptation ahead.
The tapping of trees for sap or syrup is an age-old practice. Birch sap, like maple, has long been harvested by Indigenous people living in northern forests. In Canada, for instance, Cree First Nations people have strong traditions of tapping the papery trees to drink the sap directly or boil it down into syrup.
The Sami people—Indigenous to northern Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Russia—tap birch trees, as do the Indigenous peoples of Alaska, where birch is abundant and winters are harsh. The addition of birch sap into diets in the spring has been an important infusion of nutrients after long, hard winters.
Today, researchers are looking to these different trees and their saps to help build both climate resilience and business strength.
Mike Farrell, co-founder of Forest Farmers, a syrup business based in Vermont and New York, says the impact of climate change on maple syrup has so far been a net positive, particularly as producers have been able to adapt with better technology and long-term forest management. Farrell has been studying and producing maple and other syrups since the early 2000s. Over the past decade, there’s been a marked uptick of interest in alternative syrups, he says.
At Forest Farmers, Farrell focuses on forest stewardship and sustainable food production. His business is one of the few food brands to have earned a gold level for Regenerative Organic Certification, the highest standard for organic food. Forest Farmers produces a line of certified organic tree syrups, currently sold wholesale, including birch, beech, and walnut syrups, in addition to maple.
Prior to founding Forest Farmers, Farrell was the director of Cornell University’s Uihlein Maple Research Forest, a living laboratory of more than 350 acres, aimed primarily at helping farmers manage their forests and businesses with research-proven practices. Though Uihlein historically focused on maple syrup, its purview now includes other species. The forest also offers a protective habitat for several songbirds whose numbers are in decline, and syrups produced there are certified as bird-friendly. Work at the forest taught Farrell the benefits of diversity.
“You need to have a resilient, sustainable forest to have a resilient, sustainable business,” Farrell says. “It’s all based on a healthy forest. If your forest is not healthy, your business will not be either.”
“You need to have a resilient, sustainable forest to have a resilient, sustainable business.”
This biodiversity is better for business, too. Young beech trees, which can compete with sugar maples, are often culled. If beech trees became a financial asset, though, sugarmakers could keep them along with the maples. As one of the few commercial producers of several different syrups, including birch, beech, and a walnut-maple blend, Forest Farmers provides a real-life case study. Per gallon, the researchers estimate, beech could sell for upward of $500, compared to $50 for maple and between $100-$170 for birch.
Different trees are also better suited to specific areas; birches like more light than maple, and sycamores grow near water. Maples wouldn’t necessarily grow in those areas, anyway. Why not use the trees that are already there?
The Wheelers first became interested in birch syrup after talking to other birch syrup producers, including some in Alaska, who taught them how to tap birch without harming the tree.
They had already put effort into diversifying their business beyond a single maple product by also selling condiments, maple sweets, and locally produced pancake mix. With birch syrup, they could go even further. The same equipment could be used for both maple and birch. And they were curious: Could a new kind of syrup business be tapped on their land?
To make syrup, water is removed from the sap with reverse osmosis and heat, leaving the sugar behind. For all the energy it takes to reduce maple sap into syrup, it takes even more to produce alternative syrups, which require longer periods of heating because they contain different sugars than maple. Alternative syrups also require more sap: It takes about 40 gallons of sugar maple sap to make one gallon of syrup, but it takes nearly 100 gallons of birch, beech, or sycamore sap to produce the same.
That means alternative syrups inherently cost more to make, and the resulting syrup has to be priced to match. The market size of non-maple syrups is still quite small, partly because the flavors are still novel: alternative syrups are usually more acidic than maple. Birch leads the way after maple, with well-established markets in Canada and Alaska and a few new sellers in the northeast.
“Maple is always going to be dominant,” Farrell says. “All these things are always going to be small niches. They don’t compete with maple.”
Also, comparatively little research has been done on non-maple syrups. Making syrup from sap involves breaking the tree’s protective layer of bark. While the tapping of maple trees has been studied extensively, including an ongoing 11-year study into the effects of harvesting sap at the University of Vermont, researchers don’t know as much about the long-term impact of tapping non-maples. There also isn’t as much research on these syrups and human health, including the effects of heavy metals in the sap.
Then there’s the relative lack of regulation for alternative syrups. Maple syrup is classified according to specific grades standardized by the USDA; when consumers buy a certain grade, like amber, they know what they’re getting. But there is no such system with the newer syrups. Consumers could get two drastically different products from two different producers. Future regulation for alternative syrups, including both quality and methodology, will make these alternative syrups much easier to market.
The future of any alternative syrup, birch or otherwise, will be at least in part due to research that reveals what will make sugarmaking sustainable while keeping a diversity of trees in the forest. Adam Wild, co-director of the Cornell Maple Program and the director of maple research at Uihlein forest, says the ultimate goal is always to try and close the gap between the research and the practice of tapping trees in any forest.
“Being a research forest, we’re trying to do this for landowners to be able to picture it, too, within their forest, so they cannot just rely on one individual species—and so that if there were some kind of event that would disrupt maple sap flow, or an invasive insect that would harm the maples, there’s more species out there as that kind of backup option,” Wild says.
Maples have been included in research grants under the Acer Access and Development Program (maples fall under the genus Acer), authorized by the 2018 Farm Bill and funded through annual appropriations. Through these grants, universities (including Cornell) have been able to provide vital research and development for maple syrup. With government funding getting slashed, the future of the farm bill—and the research it funds—remains to be seen.
For Wheeler, resources provided by northeastern universities have been pivotal for increasing yields and taking care of the forest. Even small tweaks to their methods, like replacing spouts and tap depth, have increased the outflow of sap dramatically.
“I’m very thankful that we have all of those research centers, and I am indebted to them all,” Wheeler says. “We are learning, and we are becoming bigger, better, faster, smarter in how we do things, and it’s vital to the future.”
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]]>The post Alien Land Laws, Created to Protect US Farmland, May Be Harming Asian Americans appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Alien land laws date to the early 20th century, when thousands of Japanese immigrants came to California to build a better life. They used their agricultural knowledge do to so, eventually producing most of the state’s strawberries, snap beans, and celery in addition to nearly half its onions, tomatoes, and green peas.
White farmers and landowners identified an economic threat. In 1913, California passed the Alien Land Law, prohibiting ownership of agricultural land by people ineligible for citizenship. Given that Asian immigrants weren’t permitted to naturalize then, it was effectively the country’s first anti-Asian land law, says Robert Chang, a professor at the University of California, Irvine School of Law, executive director of the Fred T. Korematsu Center for Law and Equality, and the Sylvia Mendez Presidential Chair for Civil Rights.
The law was infrequently used by prosecutors until World War II and the bombing of Pearl Harbor, when a raft of cases targeted people of Japanese ancestry. Still, coupled with a surge in anti-Japanese activism, the law drastically reduced Japanese-owned acreage, which peaked at nearly 75,000 acres in 1920 before declining. In 1948, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down portions of California’s law as it pertained to citizens, and it was repealed in 1956. The court didn’t rule on how the law applied to noncitizens.
In 1913, California passed the Alien Land Law, prohibiting ownership of agricultural land by people ineligible for citizenship.
Today, however, at least two dozen states—most recently Florida, Georgia, and Texas—restrict or forbid individuals, entities, and immigrants from “foreign countries of concern” from owning agricultural land, emphasizing national security. Brooke L. Rollins, the new U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) secretary, said in a recent interview that the Trump administration is interested in federal policies that would block “the Chinese purchase of our farmland.”
Many laws emerged as U.S.-China tensions flared after a suspected Chinese spy balloon was spotted over Montana in February 2023 and following claims that Chinese investors were buying farmland near U.S. military installations. The laws often mention a list of countries that include Russia, North Korea, and Iran, but their political backers have explicitly targeted Chinese nationals. Governor Ron DeSantis, for example, said Florida was taking a stand against the Chinese Communist Party.
Foreign ownership of U.S. farmland has expanded in recent years, passing 45 million acres in 2023 and accounting for about 3 percent of all farmland. That has led some farm groups to support restrictions on foreign ownership to protect domestic farmers. But, as Chang points out, that pressure is coming primarily from Canada.
A USDA report on foreign holdings of U.S. agricultural land states that Canadian investors represent 33 percent of foreign-owned land, followed by the Netherlands (11 percent), Italy (6 percent), and the United Kingdom (6 percent). Chinese entities own 277,000 acres of U.S. agricultural land, according to the USDA, accounting for less than 1 percent of all foreign-owned land. Mexico’s share of the total is also less than 1 percent, roughly on par with Japan.
Rather than being legitimate attempts to protect U.S. farmers, Chang argues that alien land laws are “entry points for further discrimination” against Asians and Asian Americans, in keeping with their history. Chang is co-counsel in a federal lawsuit challenging a law in Arkansas, where his client, a naturalized U.S. citizen, was flagged by the state’s secretary of agriculture because his company, which operates a digital data center on agricultural land, “may have significant ties to China.”
As alien land laws spread, and with the legal future still to be determined, Civil Eats spoke with Chang about the nativist origins of alien land laws, why they are ineffective in protecting U.S. farmers, and what’s at stake for immigrants, farmers, and the food system, as they proliferate.
What is the history of the recent spate of alien land laws?
There’s a long history regarding the power of either a nation or a state to restrict land ownership to citizens, with the idea that land ownership was tied to the security of a kingdom. When the United States inherited this tradition, some of the early Western territories began with a strict law that covered all aliens.
But when tensions arose as immigration from China increased—and then immigration from Japan after Chinese exclusion was put into place in 1882—a number of politicians and landowners thought the security of the state was possibly being endangered if farmland could be held by Asian immigrants. And so, in 1913, California passed what is regarded as the first [specifically] anti-Asian alien land law.
Why are these laws resurfacing now?
Robert Chang is a professor at the University of California, Irvine School of Law, executive director of the Fred T. Korematsu Center for Law and Equality, and the Sylvia Mendez Presidential Chair for Civil Rights.
My quick answer is dog-whistle politics. We can go back and recast the reasons put forward when the U.S. Supreme Court said, in 1923, that these anti-Asian alien land laws were OK in the case Terrace v. Thompson, which challenged Washington State’s alien land law.
The court said the state had a legitimate concern that all of the farmland in Washington might come into the hands and control of aliens who had not declared in good faith their intention to become citizens. That becomes really critical in understanding how it’s articulated today. [Washington’s anti-Asian laws were eventually repealed in 1966.]
In terms of the Arkansas law specifically targeting ownership of agricultural land, there’s this idea that if some foreign entity gets control of the food supply, they might manipulate it in a way that harms people in Arkansas and all the markets that Arkansas farmland serves. There’s this stated notion of threat.
And you’re saying this is all a dog whistle—an effort to appeal to voters and stoke racial division?
That’s my opinion. If the concern really is about national and state security, how real is that concern versus being able to say that as a politician I’m taking a strong stance to protect you?
Why is agricultural land often a specific target?
“If we restrict pathways to belonging—to becoming full members of our society—based on connection to a so-called country of concern, I think that undercuts the great mission of our country of allowing people from different groups to become full members.”
The choice of agricultural land is strategic. You can imagine that if somebody really had the means and the will to disrupt our nation’s food supply, the impact of that is tremendous. It gets at our very survival. Agriculture lends itself very easily to this concern. If we accept that it’s plausible that an entity could purposely insert itself within our agricultural system and at some point manipulate it for their own advantage, the question is whether a blanket law like we’re seeing now is the best approach.
Who and what is at risk if these laws hold up in court?
The people who are at risk are non-U.S. citizens of Asian ancestry. But then, because of the imprecision and lack of knowledge that parties in commercial transactions might have, that can also include U.S. citizens of Asian ancestry.
The other concern I have is that the alien land laws were only the start of a lot of state and local discrimination against people of Asian ancestry in the early 1900s. States realized that the arguments they put forward were accepted. So, they began with the alien land laws, but then they also restricted access to certain occupations, including becoming a member of the bar [to practice law]. Once discrimination in one sphere is legitimated, history teaches us that it goes to other areas.
Land access is a major obstacle for beginning farmers and farmers of color, including Black and Latino farmers. How concerned are you about what the movement to pass these laws could mean for land access and rights in the coming years?
If we restrict pathways to belonging—to becoming full members of our society—based on your connection to a so-called country of concern, I think that undercuts the great mission of our country of allowing people from different groups to become full members. It also can impede economic pathways for the affected individuals.
There’s also a real problem when the danger is cast as China, or people who might be controlled by China. That gets extended then to Chinese Americans or people who might be thought to be Chinese American. You can see how, when you have a law like this, it can lead to broader discrimination.
Some groups that represent farmers and work for a fairer agricultural system in the U.S. are in favor of laws that restrict foreign investment and ownership of farmland. They say the laws can prevent land from being bought up by foreign investors, thereby keeping land more affordable and available for new and beginning farmers. Could these laws actually support land access for a wider range of farmers?
“The other concern I have is that the alien land laws were only the start of a lot of state and local discrimination against people of Asian ancestry in the early 1900s.”
If the problem is that agricultural land is being bought up by foreign investors and global corporations, which makes it harder for new and beginning farmers to purchase land, then it would seem that a more general law targeting foreign investment and ownership would be more effective than the kind of laws that have passed in numerous states, where often the target appears to be companies and individuals who may be associated with the People’s Republic of China.
The largest foreign investors come from Canada, the United Kingdom, and Europe. To the extent that foreign ownership is the problem, the new laws don’t address the countries that own the most agricultural land in the U.S.
Generally, lawmakers don’t present these laws as intending to prevent Asian Americans from owning land, but with the aim of stopping foreign governments and corporations from controlling farmland. Are these laws preventing citizens and their families from owning land and farming here?
Part of the problem with some of these laws is the way they define the banned category of owners. For example, the Florida law forbids ownership of certain lands by “foreign principals” from a “foreign country of concern.”
The majority of Asian American citizens in the U.S. are foreign-born. If a seller receives multiple offers for the purchase of land, and one of them appears to be of Asian ancestry and may not speak English fluently, that seller may choose not to sell to that person because of fear of becoming entangled in Florida’s alien land law. In instances where a seller doesn’t meet the person, the seller may make decisions based on Asian surnames.
Are farmers, landowners, and the other people who contribute to our food system unwittingly being used by the proponents of alien land laws to foster discrimination?
They might be. If those in the agricultural industry don’t believe that these are legitimate concerns, it would be great if people started saying so. That might help counter the use of this idea of a threat to agriculture and the food system.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
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]]>The post Our Best Climate Reporting of 2024 appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>Droughts, heatwaves, wildfires, hurricanes, and flooding brought on by climate change all have a massive impact on the food system. Farmers are having to adjust what they grow and how they grow it, and people all along the food chain—from the workers who harvest the crops to the consumers who eat them—feel the effects. At the same time, agriculture is a major contributor to the climate crisis, producing one-third of global greenhouse gas emissions.
Civil Eats has long been committed to covering the intersection of the food system and climate change. In addition to looking at the greenhouse gas impacts of growing, harvesting, transporting, processing, packaging, and distributing food, we also examine the ways food-system players are addressing climate change with strategies that sequester carbon, cut emissions, save water, and establish new markets.
This year, for example, we looked at the meat industry’s influence on climate research and the presidential candidates’ stances on climate change. We also reported on farmers experimenting with the wild seed relatives of domestic crops, which may be better able to withstand extreme weather, and the underground fungal networks that trap carbon and support healthy plant life.
Additionally, we published a four-part series examining the challenges and potential of kelp as a regenerative crop, a four-part series on the power and impact of the pesticide industry, and a five-part series looking at how the climate crisis is affecting restaurants, asking ourselves: What is a climate-conscious restaurant, if that even exists?
Here are our best climate stories of 2024.
As Saltwater Encroaches on Farms, Solutions Emerge From the Marshes
In the Mid-Atlantic, sea level rise due to climate change is already altering what farmers can grow.
The USDA Updated Its Gardening Map, But Downplays Connection to Climate Change
The USDA Plant Hardiness Zone Map has been updated after more than a decade. It confirms what anyone who’s planted seeds recently already knows.
Micro Solar Leases: A New Income Stream for Black Farmers in the South? EnerWealth Solutions wants to bring the benefits of renewable energy to Black farmers and landowners in the Carolinas.
New Research Shows How the Meat Industry Infiltrated Universities to Obstruct Climate Policy
We look at how Big Meat seeks to influence climate understanding, climate-friendly farming practices, and more.
Fungi Are Helping Farmers Unlock the Secrets of Soil Carbon
By tapping into underground fungal networks, farmers are learning how to build lush, spongy soil that supports healthy plants and stores carbon underground.
Seeds From Wild Crop Relatives Could Help Agriculture Weather Climate Change
The hardy wild cousins of domesticated crops can teach us how to adapt to a hotter, more unpredictable future.
Climate Solutions for the Future of Coffee
In the face of severe climate change, farmers, researchers, and coffee devotees are refocusing on agroforestry and developing hardier varieties and high-tech beanless brews to save our morning cup of Joe.
Kelp’s Tangled Lines: Charting the Future of Seaweed in the Face of Climate Change
This in-depth four-part series, produced in partnership with the Pulitzer Center, looks at kelp as a valuable regenerative crop for both U.S. coasts, tracing the rise of the industry and the challenges it faces in fulfilling its potential.
Chemical Capture: The Power and Impact of the Pesticide Industry
In this investigative series, we examine whether consolidated corporate power may be contributing to the ubiquitous use of pesticides and other chemicals, and whether the influence that chemical companies wield in the halls of power make it difficult to sort facts from marketing or engage in rigorous cost-benefit analyses.
The Pawpaw, a Beloved Native Fruit, Could Seed a More Sustainable Future for Small Farms
As festivals celebrate the pawpaw for its tropical flavor and custardy texture, researchers explore its potential as a low-input, high-value crop that’s easy to grow organically.
Why Are US Agricultural Emissions Dropping?
The EPA’s annual emissions report points to declines in cattle numbers and fertilizer use, data that could inform major climate events this fall.
Climate on the Menu
In this five-part series, produced in partnership with Eater, we examine how climate change is driving a shift in farm relationships, supply chains, labor, waste disposal, and service, aiming to better understand the ongoing climate realities that restaurants face—and we ask ourselves: What is a climate-conscious restaurant, if it even exists?
Where Do the Presidential Candidates Stand on Climate Change?
We examined their track records and party platforms to explore the approaches each might take if elected, and how those might impact food and agriculture.
Colorado’s Groundwater Experiment
Farmers in the San Luis Valley mount an all-hands effort to restore the shrinking aquifers that make agriculture possible here. Their tactic: groundwater conservation easements.
Utah Tries a New Water Strategy
Amid drought and demand, this state is trying to circumvent one of the oldest water rules of the West: ‘Use It or Lose It.’
Farm Runoff May Be Tied to Respiratory Illness Near the Salton Sea
New research on California’s largest landlocked lake suggests agricultural runoff in the water is feeding ‘extreme microbes’ that can emit harmful compounds into the air.
Southern Black Farmers Sow Rice and Reconciliation
Jubilee Justice grows rice regeneratively while reclaiming the past.
The post Our Best Climate Reporting of 2024 appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>The post Fighting the Corporate CAFO ‘Takeover’ of Rural America appeared first on Civil Eats.
]]>In 2014, Lowell and Evelyn Trom learned that a farmer wanted to build a concentrated animal feeding operation (CAFO) across the road from their family farm in Blooming Prairie, Minnesota. By then, there were already 10 CAFOs within a 3-mile radius of their 760-acre farm, so they knew the stench the facility would bring.
The proposed CAFO would hold 2,400 pigs and produce as much manure equivalent as a town of nearly 7,000 people. “Enough,” Lowell said, “is enough.” The couple sued, assisted by their daughter, Sonja Trom Eayrs, a Minneapolis family law attorney who felt a deep sense of responsibility to help her elderly parents. Their legal battle took three years, and by the time they lost, nothing had changed—except a county ordinance had been created that made it easier to greenlight even more CAFOs. The CAFO they fought was built and is still operating across the road from their farm today.
The battle inspired Trom Eayrs to become a rural activist and help other communities fight what she calls a CAFO “takeover” of the Midwest. And it prompted her to write a book about her late parents’ experiences: Dodge County, Incorporated: Big Ag and the Undoing of Rural America, published on November 1.
“It tears at the fabric that traditionally tied people together. The days of being a good neighbor and helping one another are gone. The factory farm fights have been so divisive, pitting neighbor against neighbor.”
In the book, Trom Eayrs argues that rural America is transforming into a corporate entity, one CAFO at a time. Since 1990, the number of U.S. hog farms has shrunk by more than 70 percent while individual farms have gotten bigger.
Trom Eayrs writes about the “Big Pig Pyramid,” a three-tiered, vertical integration model in which multinational meatpacking conglomerates sit at the top, followed by “integrators” in the middle tier that own the hogs and provide feed and veterinary services. At the bottom are the contract growers—a mix of fellow farmers or farmers from out of state—who raise the pigs in CAFOs, sometimes with the help of immigrant workers.
Besides causing air and water pollution, CAFOS can harm communities in other ways, Trom Eayres says. If you’re near a CAFO, being outside can be risky: Once, when her dad was harvesting the last of the corn, the CAFO across the road spread its manure on fields surrounding the Trom farm, and she says her dad became so dizzy he had to get off the combine to vomit.
Neighbors end up with an eroded quality of life, trapped inside their houses by the stench and dangerous emissions, she writes. And she describes how battles over CAFOs have led to what she characterizes as intimidation and suspicion, stifling those who would speak out against the feeding operations and creating a chilling effect in towns where mutual respect was once the norm.
Using her hometown and family as the backdrop, Trom Eayrs details the influence of corporate interests and the Farm Bureau at all levels of government. For example, she describes how the agricultural industry backed state Right to Farm laws that limit residents’ ability to file nuisance actions against CAFOs once they’re up and running. The Farm Bureau and allied industrial agriculture interests wield incredible influence in Washington, D.C., regardless of who is in power. Trump is now vowing to eliminate corporate influence within federal food and agriculture agencies, but during his last administration, that influence increased significantly.
Civil Eats recently spoke to Trom Eayrs about her family’s battle against CAFOs, the ways these facilities hurt rural areas, and how communities are fighting back.
Could you describe the social impacts that communities face once these operations arrive?
I don’t think people realize how destructive the CAFO system is to rural communities. It tears at the fabric that traditionally tied people together. The days of being a good neighbor and helping one another are gone. The factory farm fights have been so divisive, pitting neighbor against neighbor. Eventually, we will learn that we need one another.
My family has faced harassment and intimidation for years. I’ve had to file several complaints with the Dodge County sheriff’s office and ask for extra patrols near our farm. Constant garbage [being dumped on our property], harassing telephone calls to my father in the middle of the night. One day, my brother and I were pulling weeds from the bean field, and a couple hours later, the stop sign maybe 100 to 200 feet away was sprayed with bullets.
I’m in a unique position because I don’t live in my home community. I don’t go to church there, and my children never went to school there, so I don’t have to see these people on a daily or weekly basis. But people [who live] in these small rural communities feel this tension.
For me, [the harassment] is confirmation to keep going. Don’t let them intimidate you. Keep digging for information. I know their playbook.
How would you describe the CAFO industry playbook?
It follows the classic teachings of Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, which is included in the curriculum in many business schools.
The corporate state has had its eyes on rural areas for years, adopting Right to Farm laws—which I frequently refer to as “Right to Harm” laws—placing the [agricultural] industry in a power position over farm families who have lived on the land for generations.
In repeated CAFO fights, the industry employs the classic sneak attack, laying plans weeks, months, and years ahead of construction. The multi-step process of siting, permitting, and construction occurs in secret, and neighbors are alerted at the last possible moment.
The industry sugarcoats the true impact of CAFOs on the environment, neighbors, and community. They dismiss the seriousness of the dangerous air emissions and often refer to it as the smell of money. Then why was my father vomiting?
This CAFO, located across the road from the Trom family farm, sparked multiple lawsuits. (Photo credit: Laurie Schneider)
It has created propaganda and indoctrination materials, including children’s coloring books. For example, I picked up a coloring book at the Minnesota State Fair that was produced by the National Pork Board and the Minnesota Pork Board. It’s another effort by the industry to polish its image.
Industry insiders repeatedly use harassment and intimidation tactics to silence opposition, including menacing phone calls threatening local businesses that oppose their plans. I also know of residents whose livelihoods were threatened when they showed support for laws that would limit the construction of CAFOs.
Although you wrote that “defeat was all but certain,” your family still decided to fight the CAFO across the road. Why?
My dad was a warrior. He would always say, “All we did was fight that goddamn Farm Bureau.” He was repeatedly asked to join the Farm Bureau, but he always declined. Other people wouldn’t take up the fight. They just allowed the big boys to roll right over them. My dad was sharp as a tack: He understood the seriousness of what was going on, and he could see the big picture.
Toward the end of his life, it started to take a toll on him, and I recall him saying, “I’m tired of being the goat.” In other words, he was tired of being the object of ridicule in the local community. I purposely went to church with my dad. I could see that he was essentially persona non grata in my home community. People wouldn’t speak to him.
These large industrial operations [still] impact my family and the daily use and enjoyment of our farm. The choking stench coats your nose and throat, and you have to immediately retreat indoors. I have a large family, and our farm has served as the central gathering destination for many gatherings over the years. [Now, there are] no more family reunions. No more picnics. No more weddings and wedding receptions.
What are the most effective tools rural residents can use to fight CAFOs in their communities?
Number one, education. People need to understand the big picture, that rural America is slowly, methodically, being corporatized, and that the industry is very good at operating under the radar. The corporations derive their strength in two ways. They’ve got market control, and they use their political ties and connections to force their corporate agenda onto the American public. They have a combination of market power and political power, and they will do anything to stay in power.
Number two, organization. Go door to door, talk to your neighbors. Reach out to state or national organizations for assistance. At the end of the day, it’s really a fight between community and corporations, which is why I call the book Dodge County, Incorporated: I want to drive home the fact that corporate governance has found its way into local governance. That’s happening at every level—at the township level, the county level, the state level, and the national level.
Dodge County citizens, joined by the Land Stewardship Project, are shown protesting the proposed Ripley Dairy on the county road bordering the Trom family farm. (Photo courtesy of the Land Stewardship Project)
In my book, I talk about the [successful] battle against the Ripley Dairy, which was going to be three or four miles north of our farm over 20 years ago. That fight, a citizen’s effort that included members of my family, went on for three or four years. That was successful because the neighbors worked cooperatively and with the assistance of the Land Stewardship Project, which had experience in these fights. They were a critical partner. It was an effective and organized protest.
There’s a group in western Wisconsin that has done phenomenal work. They had a bipartisan group in six towns and were able to adopt planning and zoning at the local level to limit the proliferation of CAFOs.
You write in the book that “this journey of heartache and sadness has turned to hope and determination to fight for Big Ag reform.” What did you mean by that?
When factory farm sites come up [in their towns], people feel very isolated. They don’t know where to turn for help. They don’t understand the enormity of the issue.
But for me, in the last 10 years, I started making connections with folks all over the Midwest and a number of different organizations like Farm Action and Food & Water Watch and realized that we were not alone. That’s empowering.
What do you hope your book will achieve?
People in these rural communities have a trail of abandoned schools and abandoned churches, and they are going to realize that they’ve been played, they’ve been rolled over by the big multinationals. I think [this book] is going to be eye-opening for some of these folks.
I’m hoping that the book will provide some historical context and a deeper level of understanding, and then help people understand what they can do in their own communities to move forward.
Not everyone lives near a CAFO. What can they do to help fight the “CAFO takeover”?
People need to be mindful of what they’re eating. What’s the source? Did this come from a corporate factory farm, or is it from a local, independent farmer who lovingly raised this animal?
Also, it’s not enough for people to sign a petition to fight a CAFO. We need to educate politicians. We need to roll back these Right to Farm laws that are designed to benefit corporations. And that’s going to take [effort from] everyone.
This interview, conducted via phone and email, was edited for length and clarity. This article has been updated to clarify CAFO ownership and workforce structures.
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