by LEDEGEM, Belgium (AP) – On a farm in northern Belgium, not far from hundreds of tractors that blocked Europe’s second-largest port to demand more respect for farmers, Bart Dochy was switching on his computer , waiting for a government program to be loaded with it. maps of his land next to empty digital boxes demanding to be filled with statistics on fertilizer, pesticides, production and harvesting.
“They also monitor us with satellite imagery and even drones,” Dochy said. His frustrations highlight the surprising gap in trust and understanding that has opened up between Europe’s farmers and what they increasingly see as a nanny state looking into every door and tree of its barn, analyzing how each drop is distributed of liquid manure.
From Greece to Ireland, from the Baltics to Spain, thousands of farmers and their supporters joined protests across Europe in recent weeks. It was enough to put the farmers’ plight on front pages across the continent, setting it up as a key theme for the June 6-9 parliamentary elections in the 27-nation European Union.
Farmers who always lived at the whim of nature. A fickle regulation, however, they cannot accept. “That is what is creating this level of distrust. It’s like living in Russia or China,” he said, instead of the fertile flats of Flanders in northwest Belgium.
Farmers have many complaints – from cheap, insufficiently regulated imports to overburdened environmental rules – but the red tape almost immediately put everyone off. However, it is the EU that sustains them, with around $50 billion (euro) going into a huge network of programs that tackle agriculture in different ways every year.
Instead, farmers must account for their spending — in increasingly serious ways.
At 51, Dochy is far from being a bitter extremist farmer setting hay bales on fire or spraying government buildings with dung. In his office, as essential as a barn in the life of an EU farmer today, is the warning “God Watches – No Cursing Here”. It comes from the farming stock of ancient times, the generations of conservative Christian Democrats who traditionally provided the backbone of European agriculture.
When Dochy finishes dealing with 900 pigs and about 30 hectares (74 acres) of corn or potatoes, he swaps his blue overalls and rubber boots for a three-piece suit. He is also the mayor of this farming community, Ledegem, 120 kilometers (70 miles) west of Brussels, where much of the EU’s disaffected farm bureaucracy comes from.
Over morning coffee, his father, Frans Dochy, 82, remembers how, in his youth, he would harvest beets from the cold, thick earth by hand for hours. But, he says, the 2024 bookkeeper “would have gotten me off the farm a long time ago.”
He sees how his son must register any artificial manure within seven days. “And it has to be done even at the busiest times on the field, of course,” said Bart Dochy. distributed,” he explained, going through some of the thick folders in his office.
“And with the slightest error, there are fines.”
Dochy said that he often heard from dozens of farmers in his town that the fines can amount to hundreds of euros, simply with the wrong click of the mouse. The same stories emerge at every farmer’s protest — be it 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 followed earlier protests at the port, 60 kilometers (40 miles) north of Ledegem, and across the country that cost thousands of euros in transport delays and damaged goods.
What really gets Dochy is when bureaucratic deadlines are imposed on him, for example if certain crops or green fertilizers need to be planted by September 1st.
“If the last week of August is incredibly rainy, you won’t be able to get this right. But it is still your duty to send. Otherwise, you may be fined,” he said.
“A farmer lives in a conflict between the government, which wants to be in control, and nature, which is still in control. And you can’t change anything about nature,” said Dochy.
Because the rules change so quickly, Dochy said, it becomes harder and harder to invest wisely. In northern Belgium similar problems have come together in relation to nitrate pollution from farming and the rules to prevent it.
Years of political gambit and court challenges have left no clear vision of what the future might hold.
EU officials point out, however, that strict regulation is needed after years of lax enforcement. Soil pollution was once widespread due to the dumping of excess manure into gutters and rivers. The stench that hung over parts of the province of Duchy was that some years ago it was called Mest (Dung) instead of West Flanders.
Farms had to be thoroughly checked to make sure they were spending subsidies correctly.
Now, however, the pendulum has swung the other way. After years of adding more complex rules, politicians realize 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 sure to mention “administrative requirements”.
“We hear our farmers – loud and clear. We acknowledge your hardship. And politicians have to do better!” Sefcovic said.
