“Indeed in 2016 US farm production accounted for 0.7% of the country’s GDP (BEA2018) – but the economist argument is as illogical as it is infuriating. My suggestion: just let them live off output (whatever it might be) of the most important sector, which now accounts for more than 20% of GDP, the category labelled by the Bureau of Economic Analysis as ‘finance, insurance, real estate, rental and leasing’. Bon appétit.”
Vaclav Smil, Grand Transitions
That quote stopped me in my tracks when I first read it.
Food security is a phrase we hear repeatedly from government, politicians and industry leaders. It has become a regular feature of speeches, strategy documents and policy announcements. Yet standing in a field, looking at crops that have endured months of drought, repeated heatwaves and spring frosts, it is hard not to wonder whether we are confusing talking about food security with actually supporting it.
From the farm gate, the disconnect can feel stark.
While policymakers debate the future of farming, those of us on the ground continue with the practical reality of producing food. Crops still need drilling. Cattle still need feeding. Agronomic decisions still need making. The farming calendar continues, regardless of whether government policy keeps pace.
This year has been a perfect example.
On our arable and beef farm, the season never quite followed the script. Between 1 March and the first day of combining in July, we received roughly a third of our normal rainfall. Every weather forecast became an exercise in hope rather than prediction. Rain appeared on apps only to disappear again 24 hours later. Field walks became less about disease risk and more about assessing how crops were coping with the lack of moisture.
As the spring progressed, dry conditions tightened their grip. Crops hung on remarkably well in places, largely thanks to rooting built during previous seasons and what little moisture remained deeper in the profile, but there was a growing sense that everything was operating on borrowed time.
Adding to the challenge were three distinct heatwaves. Each brought fresh concerns. Would grain-fill suffer? Would spring crops continue to develop? How much further would grass growth slow? The colour seemed to disappear from fields almost overnight, and crop potential felt increasingly fragile.
Yet perhaps the most frustrating weather event came earlier in the season. After drilling spring crops into what appeared to be dry but favourable conditions, May delivered sub-zero temperatures just as many crops were emerging. Young plants that should have been pushing away confidently instead found themselves facing frost. As with so many challenges in farming, there was little to do except wait, assess and hope that the growing point had escaped serious damage.
In many ways, that felt like a metaphor for farming itself in 2026. We plan, prepare and make the best decisions possible with the information available at the time, only to find circumstances beyond our control rewriting the plan entirely.
Farming doesn’t pause for politics
Alongside the weather challenges sits another layer of uncertainty: policy.
The past few years have brought wave after wave of change. Support schemes have evolved, disappeared or been replaced. Environmental ambitions continue to grow, yet many farmers are still searching for clarity on how productive agriculture fits into the long-term vision.
Food security is discussed frequently, but meaningful actions that inspire confidence at farm level often feel harder to identify. Long-term investment decisions are difficult when the landscape around you appears to change every few months.
The challenge is that farming operates on timescales very different from politics. A policy announcement can be made in an afternoon. A rotation can take five or six years to play out. Decisions made today may not reveal their full consequences until several harvests from now.
While those debates continue, the day-to-day work carries on regardless.
Seed is ordered. Crops are monitored. Machinery is maintained. Cattle are checked daily. The practical business of producing food never stops to wait for certainty.
The background noise gets louder
What feels different today is not uncertainty itself. Farming has always involved uncertainty. Weather, markets, pests and diseases have challenged farmers for generations.
What feels different is the volume.
Questions seem to be arriving faster than answers. What will future support look like? How will environmental objectives be balanced with food production? What level of domestic production does the country ultimately want?
Those questions form a constant background noise. Some days they are easy to ignore. Other days they are harder to tune out.
The year that never went to plan
Looking back, it is difficult to identify many parts of this season that unfolded exactly as expected.
The weather challenged crops from emergence to harvest. Plans changed repeatedly. Assumptions made in March looked very different by July.
Yet conversations with other farmers reveal a reassuring truth: very few farming businesses experienced the season they anticipated.
Perhaps adaptability is becoming one of the most valuable skills in modern agriculture. Success increasingly depends not on executing a perfect plan but on responding effectively when the original plan becomes impossible.
The quiet resilience of farming
Despite everything, there remains something remarkably resilient about British farming.
Every seed planted represents optimism. Every investment in soil, machinery, livestock or infrastructure represents confidence in the future. Every harvest, regardless of its challenges, creates an opportunity to start again.
That resilience is rarely recognised outside the industry, but it is visible every day on farms across the country.
Looking beyond the noise
This season has been shaped by drought, heat, frost and uncertainty. Yet combines still rolled. Cattle still thrived. Harvest was completed. Plans for next year are already underway.
That is the reality of farming.
We do not get the luxury of waiting for certainty before making decisions. The crop has to go in. The cattle have to be fed. Whatever political debates are taking place in the background, the rhythm of farming continues.
Vaclav Smil’s words resonate because they remind us of a simple truth: food production may account for a relatively small proportion of economic statistics, but it remains the foundation upon which every other sector ultimately depends.
After a year like this one, that feels worth remembering.