A year ago, on May 1, a row of empty ladders stood in my fields. The trees needed to be thinned, a slow, labor-intensive process of removing by hand the small, thumb-sized fruit so the remaining fruit could grow fat and hopefully profitable. On that day, farm work stopped. It was my day without Mexicans.
If the ladders continued to stand empty for weeks and especially into the harvest season, my farm could not operate. Throughout the nation and especially in parts of the West, empty ladders would result in thousands of fruit and vegetable fields lost. Store shelves would be empty; then restocked, ironically, with imported produce. It would become the public's day without Mexicans.
Without workers, farming in our Valley will grind to a stop. The connection between the undocumented workers and our Valley's food systems can no longer ignored.
Imagine a widespread freeze that shuts down not just the citrus industry but also all Valley agriculture. Workers would be displaced, farmers would lose their lands, farm-related businesses would soon wither.
Like a dust bowl depression, entire communities would be devastated; thousands would migrate in search of work, leaving small communities behind as ghost towns. Larger urban areas might shrink, regional financial institutes and retail centers curtailed and downsized. Or big cities might grow, the poor and displaced gravitating to the city's edges with the hope of assistance.
The Central Valley would become a Third World country. The impact of agriculture, a $22 billion industry, could not be easily replaced.
But the policies of immigration are not part of a natural disaster. This debate is economic and political. Congress is debating immigration reform policies, including the Agjobs legislation, which creates a guest farmworker program when shortages arise. So far there's much talk and positioning. We need action.
In the last few years, especially with specialty crops of fruits and vegetables, a tightening labor supply has affected operations and in many cases led to losses.
Two years ago, raisin farmers couldn't get workers to pick their crop in September. Many waited until October, praying rains wouldn't come to destroy a year's worth of work as the grapes lay in the sun, drying into raisins.
Last year, pear growers in northern California stood helplessly as fields remained silent during harvest. Scattered work crews could only pick a fraction of the crop even as wages were raised. Every year, I'm tense as my peaches ripen, knowing they could easily be lost when workers do not arrive in the morning. I will then grow weary, listening to the sound of my best fruits falling from the tree, smashing on the ground, overripe and lost.
Without labor, agricultural production systems will be forced to change. On my organic and sustainable farm, agricultural practices require many hands to help grow peaches, nectarines and raisins. Working with nature demands constant monitoring, adapting and responding to the rhythms of each season. My operation is labor intensive.
Dismiss and devalue these hands, and I'll be forced to experiment with huge dosages of technology and capital. I'm not sure it will work. It's like substituting margarine instead of butter -- trying to grow a peach that looks the same on the outside, but the process to create it will result in a very different end product. Imagine the flavor of a peach created with minimal human touch?
I want the human character to be part of my fields. I want to grow "face food," fields of produce with the faces of workers and their stories. I hope to keep alive the legacy of good food. Immigration reform acknowledges the value of undocumented workers and their contributions to our food system.
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