Is Farming Broken? Why the Future of Agriculture Is a Diversified Land-Based Business
There’s a version of farming that people like to believe in—the one where you leave your job, buy a piece of land, and build a simple, honest life from the soil. It’s a compelling idea, amplified in recent years by the rise of “sustainable” and “regenerative” agriculture. But when you step into the work itself, the economics tell a different story.
That tension is at the heart of Eric Suquet’s recent essay on Substack. After a decade in small-scale agriculture, he argues that farming—especially ethical, sustainable farming—is not just difficult, but fundamentally economically broken. Even well-run farms struggle to turn a real profit. Costs are high, risks are constant, and many operations that appear successful rely on outside income, grants, or existing wealth. At the same time, society romanticizes the farmer while failing to materially support the work. The result, he suggests, is a paradox: the kind of agriculture we need most is often the least financially sustainable.
There is a lot in that assessment that rings true.
But it is also shaped by where he farms—the Hudson River Valley of New York—a region defined by high land costs, expensive labor, and intense competition for premium markets. I farm in Appalachian Ohio. The constraints are different, but the underlying problem is the same: how do you generate enough revenue from the land to sustain a business and a life?
Where I agree with him most strongly is in his rejection of the romantic narrative surrounding modern agriculture. Too often, this movement is presented as an escape hatch—quit your job, buy land, and live the dream. But that vision collapses quickly under real conditions. Farming requires capital, reliable labor, and the ability to operate within extremely tight margins. That’s not unique to New York—it’s just as true here.
The example of Joel Salatin is often cited as proof that small-scale, regenerative farming can work. And it can—but only within a specific context. His operation in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia benefits from proximity to markets like Charlottesville and the broader Washington, D.C. corridor. Try to replicate that model without those conditions, and the results can be very different.
That’s the first hard truth: farming is local economics, not ideology. Every operation must be built around its specific environment—land cost, labor availability, competition, and access to markets.
In the Hudson Valley, demand is strong but costs are crushing. In Appalachian Ohio, costs are lower, but markets are thinner and more fragmented. For me, viable customers are not just down the road—they are in places like Columbus, New Albany, or Athens. Different constraints, same equation.
Suquet is right about several things. Small-scale, food-only farming is fragile. Sustainable production alone rarely cash flows well. Risk—weather, disease, equipment failure—is constant, not occasional. These are not edge cases; they are the baseline conditions of the work.
But where his argument stops short is in how it defines the farm itself.
The viable farm today is not a farm. It is a diversified land-based business system.
If you define a farm strictly as a place that produces food for sale, then his conclusion follows. The model is economically fragile, even in affluent regions. But that definition is outdated.
A working farm today must do more than produce commodities or even premium food. It must stack enterprises. It must control costs. It must leverage the full capacity of the land—not just for production, but for income generation across multiple channels.
That means integrating livestock, crops, and timber where appropriate. It means adding direct-to-consumer sales where markets allow. It means incorporating non-agricultural income streams—whether agritourism, leasing, or value-added services. And it means structuring the operation so that no single failure collapses the entire system.
This is where regions like Appalachian Ohio actually hold an advantage. Lower land costs and more flexible overhead make it possible to build these layered models. The tradeoff is weaker market access—but that can be addressed through targeted outreach and selective positioning. You don’t need everyone as a customer. You need the right customers.
Another piece that deserves more attention is cooperation. Individual farms are often too small to efficiently handle production, processing, marketing, and sales on their own. A well-functioning cooperative can allow people to specialize—some focused on production, others on sales and logistics. In theory, this strengthens the entire system.
In practice, cooperation is difficult. It requires trust, shared values, and a willingness to align around a common direction—things that are often in short supply. Where cooperative models do work, it is usually because there is a strong cultural or community foundation holding them together.
Finally, there is the question of scale. Small farms have strengths—they can reduce household costs and produce niche, high-value goods—but they are limited in their ability to meet broader demand. At the other extreme, large industrial operations dominate through efficiency and regulatory advantage, often at significant environmental cost.
Between those two poles lies what I believe is the most promising path forward: the mid-sized farm. These operations can generate real revenue, support paid labor, and scale to serve regional markets—supplying food into places like Columbus while still maintaining a connection to the land.
But even here, the system is constrained. Current policy tends to favor large operations, reinforcing consolidation. Meanwhile, meaningful reform—whether limiting harmful inputs, addressing waste concentration, or encouraging more distributed production—lacks political momentum.
So we are left in a tension. We know the current system has problems. We know smaller, more localized systems face economic challenges. And yet, the path forward is not clearly supported at a structural level.
So what should we make of Eric’s article?
It is worth reading—especially for anyone who still believes that small-scale farming is simply a matter of effort and intention. He’s right to challenge the mythology and expose the economic realities that many prefer to ignore.
But his conclusion—that farming itself is fundamentally broken—goes too far.
What his experience really shows is that a narrow definition of farming no longer works.
If we expand that definition—if we treat the farm as a diversified, land-based business system—then the path forward becomes not only possible, but practical.
The problem isn’t the farmer.
It’s the model.
And the sooner we adjust that model, the sooner we can begin building farms that actually work.
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