LEDEGEM, Belgium (AP) — On a farm in northern Belgium, near hundreds of tractors closing Europe’s second-largest port to demand more respect for farmers, Bart Dochy was turning on his computer and waiting for a government program to load. maps of his land next to empty digital boxes begging to be filled with fertilizer, pesticides, production and harvest statistics.
“They are also monitoring us with satellite images and even drones,” Dochy said. The disappointment underscores the yawning gulf in trust and understanding that has opened up between European farmers and what they increasingly see as a nanny state peering into every nook and cranny of their barns and analyzing how every drop of liquid manure is spread.
From Greece to Ireland, from the Baltics to Spain, tens of thousands of farmers and their supporters have joined protests across Europe in recent weeks. It was enough to put the farmers’ plight on front pages across the continent and make it the central theme of the June 6-9 parliamentary elections in the 27-nation European Union.
Farmers have always lived at the whim of nature. But they cannot accept the unstable regulation. “That’s what creates this level of distrust. “It’s like living in Russia or China instead of the fertile plains of Flanders in northwestern Belgium,” he said.
Farmers have many complaints, from cheap imports that are poorly regulated to onerous environmental rules, but a lot of red tape almost immediately moves everyone into action. But the EU is also their feeding hand, pumping around $50 billion (euro) each year into a vast network of programs that touch on agriculture in a variety of ways.
In return, farmers have to account for their expenses; in ways they find increasingly burdensome.
Dochy, 51, is far from an angry, extremist farmer who sets fire to hay bales or sprays manure on government buildings. In his office, which is as important as a barn in the life of a modern-day EU farmer, hangs the notice: “God is Watching – No Curses Here.” He comes from the old farming lineage of generations of conservative Christian Democrats who traditionally formed the backbone of European agriculture.
After finishing tending 900 pigs and about 30 hectares (74 acres) of corn or potatoes, Dochy swaps his blue overalls and rubber boots for a three-piece suit. He is also the mayor of Ledegem, a farming community 120 kilometers (70 miles) west of Brussels where much of the EU’s hated agricultural bureaucracy comes from.
While drinking his morning coffee, his 82-year-old father, Frans Dochy, remembers how in his youth he would spend hours picking beets by hand from the cold, thick soil. But he says the 2024 accounting “will take me off the farm a long time ago.”
He sees how his son must register the arrival of any artificial fertilizer within seven days. “And of course it needs to be done even at the busiest times on the field,” said Bart Dochy. “And then it needs to be recorded exactly how it’s spread across each little piece of land – how many kilos it’s distributed and how it’s distributed,” he explained, flipping through some thick folders in his office.
“And even the smallest mistake has punishment.”
Dochy said he often hears from dozens of farmers in his town that fines can run into hundreds of euros for one wrong click of the mouse. The same stories come up in every farmers’ protest, whether Italian, French, Dutch or Spanish.
On Tuesday, farmers blocked roads around the Belgian port of Antwerp, Europe’s second-largest, for most of the day. The disruption follows earlier protests at the port 60 kilometers (40 miles) north of Ledegem and across the country, which cost tens of millions of euros in shipping delays and spoilage of goods.
What really upsets Dochy is that bureaucratic deadlines are imposed on him, for example whether certain crops or green manures need to be planted by September 1.
“If the last week of August is incredibly rainy, you cannot plant this plant properly. But you still have to plant. “Otherwise, you may face a fine,” he said.
“The farmer actually lives in a conflict between the government, which wants to be in control, and nature, which is still in control. And you can’t actually change anything about nature,” Dochy said.
Dochy said that it is becoming increasingly difficult to invest wisely because the rules change so quickly. In northern Belgium such issues coalesced around nitrate pollution from farming and rules to control it.
Years of political wrangling and court challenges have left no clear view of what the future might hold.
But EU officials point to the need for tighter regulation after decades of lax enforcement. Soil pollution was once common due to excess fertilizer being dumped into gutters and rivers. There was such a stench in parts of the Dochy province that a few decades ago the region was popularly renamed Mest Flanders instead of West Flanders.
Farms had to be thoroughly checked to ensure they were spending subsidies correctly.
But now the pendulum has swung in the other direction. After years of increasingly complex rules piling up, politicians are realizing they may have gone too far.
“Our farmers continue to face huge challenges,” EU Commission Vice President Maros Sefcovic told EU parliamentarians this week, making a point of mentioning “administrative requirements”.
“We hear our farmers loud and clear. We accept your challenges. And politicians need to do better!” Sefcovic said: