Essays From West of 98: Feed Our Neighbors

Re-examining what's in my hand and what's in store for the future to come

If you have not read my letter to new Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins, it will be relevant to the essay that follows. If you are new to my Substack, read more about it here. Every month, I summarize my writing and a few good reads and recommendations here.

The first asparagus of the season that popped up in our garden

It came to me during church a few weeks ago.

This was not one of those scenes in church that Jayber Crow talked about:

“In general, I weathered even the worst sermons pretty well. They had the great virtue of causing my mind to wander. Some of the best things I have ever thought of I have thought of during bad sermons.”

I’ve thought some good things during bad sermons over the years myself (don’t be alarmed, not recently). This was not that. We had a guest speaker, the great Sam Nichols of Abilene, Texas. Sam is something of an icon in the Abilene television market. He has been a television meteorologist for decades and for a large portion of his career, he did double-duty giving weather forecasts while also coaching women’s basketball at McMurry University in Abilene. He retired from his storied coaching career several years back and launched “Basketball Smiles,” a nonprofit camp that coaches at-risk schoolchildren in The Bahamas on basketball and life. It’s an extraordinary organization, the largest free basketball camp in the Caribbean, and I encourage you to check them out. Sam has a unique gift of basketball knowledge and a passion to use his gift to change lives in the service of the Lord.

Sam set my mind to work in all the best ways. He made a great reference to the fourth chapter of Exodus, when Moses is engaged in self-doubt about his ability to convince the Israelites to follow him:

Then the Lord said to him, “What is that in your hand?”

Sam challenged the congregation similarly: “what’s in your hand?” Moses had a staff that turned to a serpent and would be used as a great sign to his people. David had a rock in his hand and he would use it to fell a giant. But what about us? What could (or should) we be doing for our own people? Sam Nichols found what was in his hand, a lifetime of basketball knowledge and a gift at coaching young people that could be used long after he retired from his “career.”

After church, that thought continued to weigh on me. I pulled up my Twitter app to see if anything interesting was happening (probably a bit compulsively, if I’m honest) and there it was. My friend Jeff Murphy, a farmer in Girard, Kansas, had written this:

“Don’t feed the world. Feed your neighbors.”

It might as well have been a sign displayed to me in the largest font with bright flashing lights.

Jeff is doing just what he wrote. He’s feeding his neighbors and sharing his story and ideas on social media, where many of us discuss these topics. He grazes his cattle on forage mixes that are both timeless and revolutionary. He farms wheat, but he’s not buying the newest varieties from cutting-edge plant breeding programs. He’s growing Turkey Red, an Old World variety of wheat that fell out of favor in large-scale farming years ago only to find a resurgence amongst home bakers who appreciate its unique flavor. Jeff sells fresh beef and fresh flour to his local community and online. Instead of being fully captive to commodity markets and the global food system, he’s finding opportunities to feed his neighbors with nutritious food that he grows very well.

The timing of all of it was uncanny. Three days before Sam Nichols gave his inspiring talk, I listened to another friend, Tim Hammerich, interview yet another social media friend, Steve Strasheim, on Tim’s widely-heard “Future of Agriculture” podcast. Tim often interviews guests about robotics, autonomous farm equipment, and advanced technology in agriculture, but Steve shared a different story. Steve left his previous career several years ago to embark on a full-time path as a vegetable farmer. In Iowa. On less than five acres. In a town (Mitchell) that makes Stamford look very cosmopolitan. He sells his produce at farmers markets, at a farm store, with seasonal subscriptions, and to restaurants. For Steve, the future of agriculture is a return to the past, much like Jeff. He’s making local agriculture and local food economies great again. He’s feeding his neighbors and proving that a vegetable farmer need not live adjacent to a large metropolitan area to succeed. He’s also creating a rewarding life as a full-time farmer without a lot of land, capital, or any of the other requirements for commodity-style farming that make life as a farmer so unreachable to so many people.

These stories and experiences all lined up in the span of a few days for a reason.

I have written repeatedly and at length about my frustration with the phrase “American farmers feed the world.” Many people use it with good intentions. I did just that for many years. It holds the vision of the hard-working American farmer doing something noble with his life’s work, making the world a better place and saving vulnerable people from starvation. To be clear, feeding people IS good. It is very good. It is what we should be doing. But as I get older, as I study the history underlying the phrase and as I examine the realities in rural America, I have developed a different perspective. American politicians saw “American farmers feed the world” as an opportunity to sell cheap commodities to the developing world before the Soviets could get to them. Agriculture was a geopolitical tool to limit the spread of communism. Prior to this shift, the focus of American agriculture policy was…wait for it…rural prosperity. Shocking, right? The intended goal of a policy was to benefit the people most impacted by the policy. This is why farm programs before the 1950s were centered around the idea of parity pricing, to ensure that the farmers received a fair price for their crop. When farm policy favored cheap commodities in lieu of fair prices, well, the last 70 years of rural decline happened. Good, hard-working folks are working even today to reverse that trend, but decades of farm policy are hard to change in an ever-more dysfunctional government.

Before the 1950s, American farmers WERE feeding the world. They were feeding their world, their friends, neighbors, family, and community. One of the icons of our local food movement is Will Harris of Bluffton, Georgia. He is a fourth-generation cattleman who now has the fifth and six generations assisting him on his ranch, White Oak Pastures. I have heard many of Mr. Harris’s speeches and interviews. When he took over the ranch, they employed only a handful of people in a conventional cattle ranching model. Today, he raises ten species of livestock: cattle, hogs, sheep, goats, rabbits, chickens, turkeys, geese, guinea, and ducks. He sells produce from all of them. He employs over 180 people and is the largest employer in his county. Once-dying Bluffton has been revitalized to serve his employees and all the commerce that results from White Oak Pastures. It is economic development-by-production agriculture, something that is unfathomable to much of the army of economic developers in our country.

In “The Art of Loading Brush,” Wendell Berry wrote that any community, region, or nation should provide as much of its own food, clothing, and shelter as possible. He described this as the “fundamental economic provision,” which, as foreign as it sounds to a global supply chain, was the norm for most of human history. I read his description of the “fundamental economic provision” about three years ago and I have not been able to shake it ever since. One of the core reasons that I modified my business life and sold my title company at the end of 2024 was to give more of my limited energy to the things I truly care about most of all. Rebuilding our local economy is essential to that goal in life. I don’t mean that I intend to spend all my time and energy trying to attract a single large employer to our community. That would put the cart before the horse. I have my focus on rebuilding our ability to feed, clothe, and shelter ourselves in the most affordable manner possible. If we do that, then the rest will follow.

This is not a new idea. When Stamford (and communities like it) prospered in their era of great growth, they were focused on the fundamental economic provision. Their economy supported their community, and businesses grew from that. A community that feeds, clothes, and shelters itself can then support a wide variety of retailers, manufacturers, and other businesses catering to the people who live and work in that community. I was reminded a few weeks ago by Sam Nichols, when he asked what was in our hand. This is what’s in my hand: the knowledge and passion to help feed my neighbors and encourage others to do the same. It’s in the hands of people like Jeff Murphy, Steve Strasheim, Will Harris, and so many others revolutionizing the local farm economy all across America by feeding their own neighbors and, by extension, feeding the world.

It sounds simple, but it runs contrary to every trend in the world and the roots of our farm policy. But it only runs contrary until it doesn’t.

I don’t know what is in YOUR hand, but I hope you will think about how to make it count too. And if you feel the call to join the movement to feed your neighbors, well, stay tuned.

James Decker is the Mayor of Stamford, Texas and the creator of the West of 98 website and the “Rural Church and State” and “West of 98” podcasts. Contact James and subscribe to these essays at westof98.substack.com and subscribe to him wherever podcasts are found. Check out the West of 98 Bookstore with book lists for essential reads here.