Proud and privileged. That’s how I felt as I applauded the finalists and winners at the most recent National Pig Awards ceremony – a night that showcased the amazing talent within our innovative, resilient industry.
This year, I happened to be seated alongside one of the event organisers, and we chatted as the awards were given out. She openly admitted that her only reference point for pig farming was Clarkson’s Farm, which isn’t a bad start, but she was still eager to learn more.
“Is ‘Finisher of the Year’ as seedy as it sounds?” she asked. “No, not exactly,” I replied.
As the night unfolded, I pretty much explained everything there is to know about pig farming, and her face lit up as I did so.
“I had absolutely no idea that’s how we get bacon and sausages in the supermarkets,” she said. “That’s so fascinating. You definitely need to do something on TikTok or Instagram. People would love it.”
“I’m not sure it would go down that well,” I replied.
I went on to explain how a small minority of people in this country are trying to put an end to pig production. They use the very media platforms she mentioned to bring the industry into disrepute.
Despite the UK having some of the highest welfare standards in the world, these individuals believe our farming methods are barbaric, and will stop at nothing to see them ended. “Do they not want to eat? That’s mindless,” she said. “And so sad.”
Conflicted feelings
Her words stayed with me more than I expected, and our conversation fell silent. She was right.
I thought to myself: “Isn’t it sad that, while I am proud of what I do, I’m still finding it hard to sleep at night, fearful that mine could be the next farm on their list to target. Why is it I am I scared to showcase what I do, as she suggested? Why am I hiding?”
I felt at that time – and still feel now – unbearably conflicted. And I doubt I am alone.
Right now, the narrative of our industry is being written by those not involved in it; by those who don’t understand it. Their stories are the ones the public are starting to believe, and once a narrative takes hold, it becomes harder and harder to correct.
Our industry needs defending. Not with weapons – although I’m sure there are many who would love to retaliate in that way – but with education.
Just Farmers
Earlier this year, I was encouraged to speak to an amazing organisation called Just Farmers, a charity that puts farmers like me through a four-day intensive media course, free of charge.
It covers every corner of the media – newspapers, TV, radio, blogs, social media and podcasts – and teaches us how to use them to speak directly to consumers and promote our industries.
The message was simple: by using media, we can bridge the divide between ourselves and the public and, in doing so, boost the farming industry. People in this country are genuinely interested in where their food comes from – and we should be the ones telling that story.
Just Farmers really struggles to get pig producers to apply for the course, reflective of our obvious mistrust of the media. Of the 12 farmers selected, I was the only one remotely involved in pig production.
The sessions were intense, but genuinely enjoyable, and I’ve made friends for life. The course has given me confidence and all the necessary skills to finally tackle the media.
As much as I want to put my training to good use, I am naturally cautious, because using the media in the industry’s current state is fraught with risk.
The public’s understanding of where their pork comes from is not a good one – which is exactly why I feel compelled to do something. And I hope others will do the same.
People need to know what we do and why we do it, because we are not the monsters we are painted out to be.
When the industry gathers again for the next pig awards, I want to be back there: restful and full of celebration.
I want to be championing our winners, safe in the knowledge that UK pig production is stronger than ever. And together, by stepping forward rather than stepping back, I believe we can get there.