Julie Greene: Corn and Country: Nebraska, Mexico, and the Global Economy
[Julie Greene is in the history department of the University of Maryland.]
On June 21, residents of Fremont, a small meatpacking town just outside Omaha, Nebraska, voted by 57 percent to deny work and shelter to undocumented immigrants. Why Fremont, Nebraska, and why now? Some observers, not knowing the Fremont measure was cooked up by the same coalition that passed Arizona’s law—Kansas City lawyer Kris Kobach, for example, was involved in both measures—are calling it a homegrown, heartland, good ole Nebraskan approach to solving the immigration problem. The fact is that numerous dynamics have combined to make immigration particularly explosive in Fremont: ambitious politicians across Nebraska and nationwide; widespread economic turmoil combined with fast-paced globalization; and neoliberal policies that limit governments’ abilities, both in Mexico and the United States, to respond to these widespread transformations. Tying all of it together is the global journey of one transformative commodity: corn. Following Nebraska corn as it travels across the United States, to foreign countries like Mexico and back to meatpacking plants in Nebraska, illuminates the forces that made immigration a hot-button issue in Fremont.
Starting with corn comes naturally to me. I grew up surrounded by it, on our family farm about thirty miles southwest of Fremont. Back in 1891, my German great-grandparents acquired the farm, buying the land from the man who had homesteaded it. We occasionally find arrowheads and flint lying around in our fields, left by the Pawnee men and women who called the place home long before the Homestead Act. When I was growing up, my immigrant grandparents could still be heard speaking German—especially if they didn’t want us kids to understand what they were saying.
Like farms across Nebraska, these days, ours grows mostly corn. Corn is the undisputed king—not since the 1930s has the crop so dominated agriculture in the state. Its popularity is partly due to demand for ethanol, but also due to the fabulous market conditions that exist for U.S. corn around the world. Early twentieth century developments in the hybridization of corn, more recent genetic modifications (85 percent of U.S. corn seed is now genetically modified), and the use of fertilizer products made with petro-chemicals have radically increased the productivity of corn farms over the last fifty years. In 1932, Nebraska produced 250 million bushels of corn; by 2009 that figure had risen to 1.5 billion bushels, while the amount of acreage devoted to corn production dipped slightly. Meanwhile, massive government subsidies allow farmers to sell their corn for much less than it costs to produce it. Our farm receives more than $10,000 in direct government subsidies, plus another $15,000 or so for conservation techniques such as planting grass buffers or using GPS technology for maximal efficiency when we spray herbicide across our 450 acres. This $25,000 means that some years as much as one-third of our profit comes from the federal government.
Read entire article at Dissent
On June 21, residents of Fremont, a small meatpacking town just outside Omaha, Nebraska, voted by 57 percent to deny work and shelter to undocumented immigrants. Why Fremont, Nebraska, and why now? Some observers, not knowing the Fremont measure was cooked up by the same coalition that passed Arizona’s law—Kansas City lawyer Kris Kobach, for example, was involved in both measures—are calling it a homegrown, heartland, good ole Nebraskan approach to solving the immigration problem. The fact is that numerous dynamics have combined to make immigration particularly explosive in Fremont: ambitious politicians across Nebraska and nationwide; widespread economic turmoil combined with fast-paced globalization; and neoliberal policies that limit governments’ abilities, both in Mexico and the United States, to respond to these widespread transformations. Tying all of it together is the global journey of one transformative commodity: corn. Following Nebraska corn as it travels across the United States, to foreign countries like Mexico and back to meatpacking plants in Nebraska, illuminates the forces that made immigration a hot-button issue in Fremont.
Starting with corn comes naturally to me. I grew up surrounded by it, on our family farm about thirty miles southwest of Fremont. Back in 1891, my German great-grandparents acquired the farm, buying the land from the man who had homesteaded it. We occasionally find arrowheads and flint lying around in our fields, left by the Pawnee men and women who called the place home long before the Homestead Act. When I was growing up, my immigrant grandparents could still be heard speaking German—especially if they didn’t want us kids to understand what they were saying.
Like farms across Nebraska, these days, ours grows mostly corn. Corn is the undisputed king—not since the 1930s has the crop so dominated agriculture in the state. Its popularity is partly due to demand for ethanol, but also due to the fabulous market conditions that exist for U.S. corn around the world. Early twentieth century developments in the hybridization of corn, more recent genetic modifications (85 percent of U.S. corn seed is now genetically modified), and the use of fertilizer products made with petro-chemicals have radically increased the productivity of corn farms over the last fifty years. In 1932, Nebraska produced 250 million bushels of corn; by 2009 that figure had risen to 1.5 billion bushels, while the amount of acreage devoted to corn production dipped slightly. Meanwhile, massive government subsidies allow farmers to sell their corn for much less than it costs to produce it. Our farm receives more than $10,000 in direct government subsidies, plus another $15,000 or so for conservation techniques such as planting grass buffers or using GPS technology for maximal efficiency when we spray herbicide across our 450 acres. This $25,000 means that some years as much as one-third of our profit comes from the federal government.