Farming: more than just business?
Mine is probably no different from many such practices, apart from the surgeon being a German, Dirk Huntenburg — a good vet with a passion for history and a love of the Irish farming way of life.
Born in a village outside Hamburg in northern Germany in 1962, and qualified from the University of Hanover, Dirk arrived in Ireland in 1993 on a working holiday.
In time, he would become a full partner in the local veterinary business, and he would inevitably end up in my yard, just like last Saturday for the reading of my TB test.
In nearly 19 years, we have had many conversations, often a learning experience for me, as he shows his veterinary expertise, or explains how some drug new to the market works better than its predecessors.
Our mutual interest in World War II has seen us argue over the technical superiority of the German Tiger tank over any US equivalent; with only the Russian T34 earning his praise for innovation of design.
Last Saturday, after two hours of careful examination of my cattle, he declares, “All clear, Martin.”
We guide the last 19 animals back into the shed, and I pull the bolt on the pen closed. It’s a nice feeling when you get to pass the TB test.
“Tea or coffee?” I enquired. “How are things out there in the farming community, Dirk?”
He replies that things appear good, but he has reservations about the drive to make farming all profit-orientated. “I thought that was the idea of business,” I reply.
“Yes,” he says, “but that’s not exactly what I mean. Irish farming and farming families are about more than just a business.”
In the next hour, I get the perspective of my German vet on farming and rural living in Ireland. Basically, my friend accepts totally the importance of making ends meet, but he has fears, having seen what happened Irish society during the Celtic Tiger years.
Fears that the drive for profit, and only profit, in agriculture could see the diminution of what he calls, “that unique group that are farmers within society, the group that creates the best of people”.
He explains that he sees Irish farming as a separate social entity, a part of a rural system whose values have helped develop a “togetherness” of community.
The Celtic Tiger saw people make money and profit their gods. “And what have they now? As a nation, you lost something, maybe it was an innocence,” Dirk said. “Farming survived as the only part of your society with the important values intact. In Germany or England, you see beautiful villages, yes, but how many of the houses are now weekend holiday homes owned by wealthy city business men? They have lost the essence of what rural communities are all about.”
“Go to any Irish country pub even as a stranger, and in five minutes, you’re in conversation. Take the Irish thing of slagging, it’s a wonderful spoken art form. Ye score points off one another with a twist of a question or a word. If you did the same in Poland or Germany, the locals would have a knife at your throat, because they’d think you were insulting them.
“Ireland is an unbelievable chatterbox of a nation, by comparison,” he says.
I can see where he is coming from, but the reality is that bills have to be paid and children educated, and to that end, we employ ourselves as best we can.
The essence of what he says is valid. There is an invisible glue that binds farming and rural society together.
“Why would those who emigrated to Australia with its good wages and warm sunshine want to return to rural Ireland with its crappy roads and rain? Because Australia or anywhere else doesn’t feel the same as Ireland,” says Dirk.
