
31 May 2026
Farming · 31 May 2026 · Parish Larder Editorial
British farmers face rising costs, falling prices, and growing competition from imports. What we buy — and where — determines whether the next generation of British farmers exists at all.

There is a statistic about British farming that, once you have heard it, is hard to forget.
The average British farmer is 59 years old.
Not average in the sense of the middle of a wide age distribution. Average in the sense that more than half the people farming the UK today are within a decade of retirement age, and the pipeline of people ready to take their place is shrinking year on year.
This matters because farming is not the kind of skill that can be learned from a manual or replicated overnight. It is accumulated knowledge — of soils, of seasons, of animals, of microclimates, of what grows well where and why — that takes years or decades to develop and, once lost from a family or a community, is very hard to rebuild.
We are at a critical juncture. The choices made over the next decade about how we produce and consume food will determine whether a viable, productive British farming sector exists for the generation after next.
British farmers are caught in a vice. On one side, input costs — feed, fertiliser, fuel, labour, machinery — have risen sharply over the past five years, driven by global commodity prices, the energy crisis and post-Brexit disruption to labour supply. On the other side, the prices they receive for their produce have, in many sectors, remained flat or declined.
The power imbalance in the UK food supply chain is well documented. The UK's major supermarkets, which control around 80% of UK grocery retail, exercise enormous buyer power. Farmers who want access to that market — and most have no alternative — must accept the prices they are offered or find their product unlisted.
The consequences show up in the data. Farm incomes in the UK, measured in real terms, declined significantly over the 2010s. The number of farms in the UK has been falling consistently for decades. Small family farms — those of fewer than 50 hectares — continue to disappear, absorbed by larger operations that can achieve the scale required to remain viable at supermarket prices.
And here is the cruel irony: the food those farmers produce becomes cheaper to consumers in the short term, while the structural cost — paid in the slow degradation of British farming capacity — is deferred to the future.
The phrase "buying British" has accumulated a certain amount of baggage over the years. Set that baggage aside, because the argument for buying from British farmers and food producers is not primarily nationalistic. It is structural and practical.
When you buy food grown or produced in the UK, you pay the regulatory premium. British farmers operate under some of the most stringent environmental, animal welfare and food safety regulations in the world. When you buy British, you are paying for that compliance — and signalling that you value it. When you buy imported food produced to lower standards, you are undermining the competitive position of every British farmer who has invested in meeting those standards.
You support the knowledge base. Every British farmer who remains in business represents an accumulation of local agricultural knowledge that is irreplaceable. The soil profile of their fields. The micro-drainage patterns of their land. The varieties and breeds that work in their specific conditions. This knowledge is not stored in a database — it is held in the farmer's experience and passed down through practice.
You keep the land in production. Farmland that is actively farmed can feed people. Farmland that is economically unviable gets sold, developed, rewilded or abandoned. The net effect of continued farm closure is a reduction in the UK's food-producing capacity that is very difficult to reverse.
You invest in a living countryside. British farmers are the custodians of 70% of the UK's land surface. The landscapes, habitats, footpaths and water systems that make up the British countryside are maintained — often without direct payment — by the farming families who live and work within them.
There is one dimension of the farming crisis that receives far less attention than the economics. Farming has one of the highest suicide rates of any profession in the UK.
The isolation of rural life, compounded by financial stress, poor weather, livestock losses, the weight of inherited debt and the sense of fighting alone against forces beyond individual control — these factors combine in ways that are genuinely lethal. Charities including Farm Support and the Royal Agricultural Benevolent Institution document the scale of the problem year on year.
This is a human crisis embedded within an economic one. When we talk about supporting British farmers, we are also talking about the mental health of rural communities, about the sustainability of a way of life, and about whether the people who feed the country can afford, in all senses of the word, to keep doing it.
Government policy matters. Trade deals matter. Supermarket practices matter.
But none of those things happen immediately. All require sustained political pressure and long legislative processes.
What happens immediately — this week, today — is where you spend your money and whose produce you choose to buy.
Direct, local purchasing is the most efficient transfer of value from consumer to producer. It bypasses the intermediary margin. It gives the farmer a price that reflects the real value of what they have grown. It connects your household to the specific people and places that feed it.
It is not the only thing needed to support British farming. But it is the thing most directly within your control. And it starts, as it always has, in your own parish.
By Parish Larder Editorial
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