Farmers Are Climate Leaders

I want to start with a scene.

It’s late morning in New Jersey, the furthest south cranberries grow. Secretary Edward Wengryn - yes, a real person with the best farmer-politician name you could ask for - is standing in a bog talking about how the berries are changing. They’ve been breeding heat-resistant cranberries because New Jersey is heating up. Climate change has made the old varieties too fragile. Not only are these new cranberries better equipped for hotter summers, but they’re less acidic, which means less sugar needs to be added in processing. Imagine that: the humble cranberry, suddenly a climate adaptation and a nutrition play rolled into one.

That’s the kind of story that defined my Climate Week this year. While the panels at the big “houses” were full of talking heads and buzzwords, it was the farmers - quietly innovating, always adapting - who showed me what climate leadership actually looks like. Because here’s the thing: keeping farmers on the land is climate action. And it’s not just because they feed us. It’s because they’re building resilience, stewarding soil, experimenting with energy, and rewriting the relationship between nature and business in ways that make sense at ground level.

Let’s get into it.

Farmers Aren’t Waiting

You’ve probably read enough headlines to know that more than half of U.S. farms reported negative net income in 2024. If that were any other industry-tech, airlines, you name it-there would be panic. But farmers? They’re still out there at dawn, making it work.

Traditional federal cost-share programs that used to fund conservation practices were cut earlier this year. But here’s the twist: billions of dollars from the Inflation Reduction Act (IRA) have been redirected into agriculture. States are stepping up, too. Massachusetts, for example, helped 12 of its 95 dairies transition to robotic milking systems. That’s not just innovation-it’s survival. Meanwhile, farmers themselves are shifting into specialty crops - the fruits, vegetables, nuts, and seeds you and I eat every day. These aren’t abstract “green investments.” They’re delicious, familiar foods that double as climate strategies.

The resilience is breathtaking. But what struck me most during Climate Week was how little airtime these stories get compared to shiny corporate pledges or celebrity panels. Farmers are innovating bottom-up, while the conversation in many of the houses felt sanitized, stiff, and surface-level. Which begs the question: why aren’t we listening harder?

Stories We Should Be Telling

Let me get through just a few highlights I scribbled down in my notes:

• In Colorado and Texas, agrovoltaics - the dual use of farmland for solar panels and crops - are showing that food and energy don’t have to compete. They can actually support each other. Farmers plant less water-intensive crops under the shade of solar arrays, saving money on irrigation and selling energy back to the grid. And - critically - they’re bringing the younger farming generation back to the (farm)table.

• In Massachusetts, those robotic milkers aren’t just gadgets. They’re keeping dairies alive. Labor shortages have been crushing, and automation means families can keep farming without burning out.

• In New Jersey, those cranberries I mentioned are a literal adaptation strategy to rising heat. And they have the side effect of improving health outcomes by cutting down on added sugar.

• In California, Chez Panisse’s Alice Waters has now helped convert 5,000 schools into edible outdoor classrooms. Geography lessons are now hummus-making exercises, where kids learn about the Middle East by cooking with chickpeas and drizzling tahini. Food becomes culture, politics, and biology all at once.

These aren’t gimmicks. They’re the future of farming happening right now. And they’re all climate solutions.

Farmers as Artists

One of my favorite lines from the week came from third generation farmer Jay Goldmark, who said: “Farmers are artists. They innovate, adapt, and reimagine.” Think about that. It’s not just about grit and resilience - it’s about creativity. A farmer experimenting with biochar isn’t doing it because it’s trendy. They’re doing it because it’s a bet on healthier soil, lower costs, and maybe a little extra carbon sequestration to boot.

A grower trying Kernza®, a regenerative perennial grain developed by The Land Institute, isn’t just planting seeds. They’re sketching a new picture of what agriculture could look like: deep-rooted grains that rebuild soil year after year instead of strip-mining it. The artistry is everywhere once you start looking. And it’s contagious - schools, retailers, and even energy companies are starting to take cues.

The Policy Backdrop

Here’s the less romantic side: policy cuts are real. Fresh fruit and veg contracts with schools were slashed. USDA engineers-the folks who literally show up on farms to help troubleshoot-have been cut, too. Farmers won’t pay for them out of pocket, which means bipartisan energy is now rallying around how to restore those “boots on the ground.”

At the same time, $14 billion from the IRA is being poured into conservation. It’s a strange split-screen: money flowing in, support systems being pulled out. But what struck me was how much faith farmers still place in government, even when it fails them. Representative Adriano Espaillat spoke about how drought and food insecurity in Central America drive migration, which in turn affects U.S. farm labor. It’s a brutal cycle. And yet, the optimism is there. Farmers keep showing up, keep adapting, keep trusting that some version of support will materialize.

Why Visibility Matters

Caitlin Leibert of Whole Foods Market put it simply: “Climate-smart farming is common sense ag. It’s not fancy, not elitist.” That line hit me. Because for all the complexity of climate modeling and ESG reporting, what we’re really talking about is common sense: take care of the land, and the land takes care of you. But here’s the catch-farmers can’t just do the work; we need to make it visible. Retailers and consumers alike want to know who grew their food. That’s not fluff. That’s value.

Think about it: if you walk into a supermarket and pick up a package of beef, what if you could instantly scan a code and see the rancher who raised it, their story, their land, their practices? Suddenly, sustainability isn’t a corporate pledge. It’s a person you can see and trust. That’s the bridge we need. Visibility translates into trust, which translates into consumer choice, which translates into staying power for farmers.

Technology Meets Tradition

A few people asked me if all this is just tech hype dressed up as farming. I don’t think so. Because the through-line here is that technology is meeting tradition-not replacing it. Robotics are keeping dairies viable. Solar panels are helping wheat fields stay hydrated. AI (yes, IBM was there talking about this) is helping farmers decide when to water and plant. But the technology only works because it’s grounded in traditional farming wisdom: know your land, know your crops, work with the seasons, not against them. The combination is where it gets powerful.

Let’s zoom out. When most people picture climate action, they see wind farms, EVs, maybe someone protesting in front of a coal plant. Those are real. But they’re not the whole story. Farmers are climate leaders. They always have been. Every crop rotation, every soil amendment, every decision to plant or not plant is a climate decision.

The challenge - and the opportunity - is to expand our collective imagination so that when we talk about climate leadership, we don’t just mean CEOs and policymakers. We mean the farmer in New Jersey, the grower in Massachusetts, the rancher in Colorado. Because if we can make those stories front and center, we change the culture. And culture drives policy, which drives investment, which drives resilience.

So What?

Here’s where I land. Farmers are already leading. They’re adapting faster than most corporations. Policy is lagging. Cuts and contradictions abound, but bottom-up innovation is filling the gaps. Visibility is value. The more we highlight who’s behind our food, the stronger the market case for keeping them on the land. Tech is a tool, not a savior. Pairing robotics, AI, and agrovoltaics with traditional practices is where resilience is born. This is climate action at its most human. It’s not abstract. It’s food. It’s livelihoods. It’s survival.

The revolution won’t be televised in corporate keynotes. It’ll be grown in fields, bogs, and orchards.