The chicken, the red Rudge and a pair of shoes has been a hard row to hoe. There has not been a post on this blog for awhile because these are thoughts on the economy of scale and are not fully worked out. Wendell Berry has struggled with the same problems throughout his most of his essays. I am, we are, joining good company.
I think, the proper economy of scale is broken or not even considered.
So here’s what about the chicken—ninety percent of the poultry and poultry food products sold in the US come from about 50 very large corporations. The chicken is no longer the product of a farm. It is an industrial product. The same thing is true of most of our pork, much of our beef and is rapidly advancing upon our dairy products.
The regulatory term for industrial livestock production, including chickens, is CAFO—confined animal feeding operation. CAFOs are regulated under waste water discharge permits conforming to US Environmental Protection Agency regulations. They are regulated by the US Food and Drug Administration. It’s an economy that hinges on agricultural subsidies from the US Department of Agriculture. This is the industrial economy, not the family farm or ranch.
The transition of the agrarian economy to an industrial economy over the past sixty years is the fruit of well intentioned policies the insure food surpluses and low consumer costs through agricultural subsidies. These are policies that have run amuck, ruined the economy of the “family” farm and led to slow decline of rural small towns and rural communities across the US. See CAFOs Uncovered - The Untold Costs of Confined Animal Feeding Operations - Poultry Articles from The Poultry Site . We have unintentionally waged war on our agrarian economy.
The trouble with chickens is a problem of economic scale. Chickens are not suited to be a product of the industrial economy. They are more suited to be produced though the agrarian economy. The farm raised, free range bird is about as different from “factory” hen as chickens are from wild pheasant. The free range bird can be roasted, stewed and finally find its way to the stock pot for soup. And at each and every step it’s delicious. It needs no fancy “tarting up” for flavor. Instead we settle for a cheap, tasteless protein, industrial bred and fed from a once noble bird.
The successive economic transformations of the 20th century have left our heads spinning. Collectively we are dizzyingly confused over appropriate scales of economy. We are thrust in a hodgepodge stew of industrial, post-industrial, global economics where the economy of household and community are lost.
In an agrarian society the economy was defined by largely economically independent households in the context of local community. Wealth or well being was determined through an equation involving the fertility of the soil, individual labor and community. That calculus has been lost. It is the calculus that must be relearned.
Before I move on to the economy of a red Rudge, let me close out on the economy of a chicken. Pound for pound a locally raised free range chicken costs about twice as much as factory produced hen. Still the free range bird is most often the better buy. First, when the factory birds are parted out and turned into chicken products, they cost about as much at the cash register as a farm raised bird. Second, the farm raised bird has so much more flavor that a smaller serving is wonderfully satisfying. The bird is not one, but the makings for two or three meals. Now on to the Rudge.
The red Rudge is the bicycle I bought when I was about 14. I rode it a lot until I got my drivers license. I rode it a lot in college. I rode it a lot in my late twenties through my thirties bicycling with my kids and for exercise. It was stolen twice and recovered twice. It spent another 15 years hanging in my garage, rusting and worn out.
Two years ago I found that I needed a bike again. I had a hip replaced and needed reconditioning. Bicycling is pleasant exercise. I went shopping for a new bike. Discount big box stores had them for $100 give or take. These were junk—ride for a year bikes until something breaks. Big box sporting goods stores had decent bikes for around $400 give or take--bikes that would do and in my price range. My local bike shop had the sort of bike I wanted. It was somewhat too pricey, about $900, but really cool.
It was a relatively light weight commuting bike built for comfort. It had upright handlebars, a comfy seat and a sweet shifting internal multispeed hub. It was what I wound up with but at half the price. It was a rebuild of the forty-year-old bike hanging in my garage. It was a bicycle produced by an economy of proper scale.
My old bike, at its time, was a very good one. It was a ten-speed manufactured in the early 1960s with a hand built thin walled, lugged, steal frame. I asked Ed, my local bike shop owner, if it made sense to rebuild my old ten-speed into an urban commuter. Absolutely he said. He put Nick, a college aged young man, in charge of the project.
My old red Rudge was reborn with upright bars, a classy and comfortable leather saddle, new rims and rubber, new chain and bearings and a slick 8-speed internal hub. Here is a sensible example of the proper economies of scale. It wedded my household economy, the stuff at hand, with economy of my local bicycle shop. The $400 give or take that I could afford on a bike (mostly give in this case, but in that range) were dollars spent in my community and largely remained in my community.
There are two other things to note here. Young people and part time retirees work at my local bike shop. They enjoy their work. Ed, the shop owner, collects used children’s bikes, rebuilds them and donates them to be distributed by area boy’s and girl’s clubs. You have jobs that fit and a contribution to the community.
And finally to the shoes. My shoes are made 15 miles from where I live. They are very good ones—Allen Edmonds. I buy the factory seconds, discontinued styles and salesmen samples at deeply discounted prices. Still they are pricey, about two or three times what I would pay for a pair of shoes at a big box store--$80 to $160. Retail they go from $150 on up. What you get is a confortable well made shoe that actually fits. These are shoes that last a long time—easily good for three or four rebuilds. With rebuilds they last eight or ten years or until you tire of them.
These are shoes born from an agrarian economy in a shoe factory in Belgium Wisconsin. Once, Milwaukee tanneries turned out the finest leather in the world. Tanning has largely moved overseas. Leather crafting has moved with it. The result is lousy shoes. Belgium, Wisconsin, is a place of farms, mixing dairy and vegetables. Its local industry was the shoe factory, a cannery, and a foundry. The Belgium economy was a local mix of family farm and industry blended together. The foundry is gone. The shoe factory has moved ten miles south and is owned by a group of out-of-state investors. The canning plant remains.
All of these things: the locally raised chicken; the locally rebuilt bicycle; and the locally made pair of shoes, are from my local economy. It is all the product of household economy in the context of community. It’s not disembodied, not globalized. It’s our true economy and one in need of nurturing: the bonds of soil; of family and household; and of community.
Rough thoughts I know and too long for a blog. The soup is next but this train of thought will continue.
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