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IS LANARK A MODEL FOR FARMERS?

People who know Lanark, with its many magnificent rows of mature trees, its wetlands, its bushland reserves and its big plantations of commercial timber, have been generous enough to say that I have succeeded in producing a sustainable rural property that farmers all over Australia should use as a model. The New Zealand agroforester Jeff Tombleson had this to say about Lanark: ‘This is one of the most important properties in Australia, since it will lead the change from primary wool production to a diversified farm economy through farm forestry.’ In other words, I was showing other farmers the way ahead to sustainability. It was a flattering suggestion, but I am not sure I agree with it. Let me state my position.

First, it cannot be disputed that the 100 000 or more trees I planted over a period of almost 50 years have made Lanark a far more productive and financially secure property than it would be now if I had not planted the trees. I have already explained why this is so. As long as they are planted in the right place and in the right configuration, trees protect farm animals in winter; they foster growth in the paddocks in summer by blocking wind and so reducing evaporation; they enhance the fertility of the land by creating organic matter that eventually enriches the soil; they attract birds and insects which are good for the environment and therefore good for the health of the land; they improve the capital value of the property; and, if the right species have been planted to be harvested for timber, they provide the farmer with an ongoing source of income in the longer term.

All in all, I am convinced that planting trees on farms, any farm, is virtually guaranteed to make that farm more productive and sustainable. So why am I reluctant to say that my way of managing the land and conserving the environment is the best way? Why am I reluctant to recommend to other farmers that they undertake a tree-planting program on the same scale as mine? Or set aside a sizeable proportion of their land as a wildlife habitat? Or create a wetland where bird life can flourish?

The reason has all to do with time and money. Doing the kind of environmental work I have just outlined is an extremely time-consuming and expensive operation. Frankly, I believe that only a tiny proportion of farmers—specifically, those with substantial off-farm incomes—can afford to do it comfortably. Farmers who rely for a living largely or entirely on their farms would risk running themselves ragged, both financially and emotionally, if they tried.

As I admitted before, I came close to going under myself. In retrospect, I can now say that, although the work that I did at Lanark was enormously beneficial for the environment, it was work that, as a farmer, I could not justify on a cost-benefit basis. I admit now I got the balance wrong—that is, the balance between my obligation to protect and improve the environment and my obligation to my family to run a profitable farm. My son David has done a lot to restore the balance since taking over the property. In particular, he has mastered the technique of producing high-quality fat lambs from a self-replacing flock. I had always concentrated on growing wool. Now, wool is a superb natural product that is better than the synthetic product it competes against in just about every way; that is beyond dispute. But there is not much point in growing wool if people do not want to buy it. Unfortunately, we farmers are price-takers, not price-makers.

Of course, things would be different if, in return for taking care of the environment, farmers were paid a stewardship fee, a concept I will discuss in the next chapter. Then, every farmer could afford to do as much conservation work as needs to be done. Otherwise, I frankly do not believe Lanark can be presented as a model that farmers should aim to reproduce. In most cases, reproducing what I have done at Lanark would be beyond them, both time-wise and money-wise. Still, something needs to be done, and I believe a scaled-down version of the Lanark model would be within the capacity and budget of most farmers.

Nowadays, I think everyone accepts that, taken as a whole, Australia’s farming land is degraded and in need of rehabilitation. Unfortunately, the job of rehabilitating a working farm, which really means a farm of 1500 acres (600 hectares) or more, is just too big, in a practical sense, to be completed in the lifetime of the farmer. True, I managed to do it. Lanark was bare and waterless—an environmental wasteland—when I set about rehabilitating it. It took me 50 years, but I succeeded in turning it into an environmentally healthy, economically sustainable rural property, complete with wetlands and other wildlife habitats. I have to say, though, that I was an exception. I had a passion for the environmental work that I undertook. Some of my friends, I know, regarded it as an obsession, and they may well be right. Without that passion, obsession—call it what you will—there is no way I could have persevered with the work over half a century, for it certainly took its toll, physically, financially and emotionally.

Still, people who visit Lanark invariably go away impressed. They gaze with surprise and admiration at the row upon row of maturing trees that stretch into the distance, and they marvel at the wetlands and the wildlife reserves. I could not count the number of visitors who have said to me, ‘Every farm ought to look like this.’ That is probably true. The problem is not every farmer is capable of making it happen.