Corn Power

My introduction to lobbying — and why it isn’t surprising that the MAHA Commission isn’t getting much done

When I saw how the MAHA Commission’s strategy report from last August got hijacked by the pesticide lobby to actually promote pesticide use instead of challenging it, I was a little disappointed — but not surprised.

The agricultural lobbies are powerful. I learned this in college — although not in class. I learned it when I went on a lobbyist-sponsored field trip and experienced their persuasive tactics firsthand.

It was the fall of 2014, and I had just finished writing a paper for my persuasive communication class about why ethanol was not good for the environment. When I found out that the American Farm Bureau Federation-sponsored student organization was going on a field trip that included a tour of an ethanol plant, I immediately signed up. It was free, and I figured it would be a cool educational trip to learn more about ethanol production. And it was educational — but not in the way I was expecting.

We started out our tour at the office of the corn trade lobbying organization that sponsored the tour. As a college student, I’d been in lots of faculty offices, and they all looked similar — functional, utilitarian, with aging furniture. So it was a bit of a surprise when the lobbyists greeted us enthusiastically and ushered us into a swanky wood-paneled conference room with a beautiful marble-topped table, plushy leather chairs, and corn-themed stained glass and other artwork tastefully arranged on the walls.

Neatly arranged in front of each chair was a selection of brightly colored pamphlets promoting ethanol, corn and family farms, along with pens, pads of paper, flashlights and other trinkets emblazoned with the lobbying group’s logo. When we got ready to leave the building, they kindly provided matching plastic bags to hold the huge pile of loot.

Corn car — Lobbyists roll in style

The friendly lobbyists — oh, they were so nice and friendly! — greeted us warmly like we were long-lost friends. They provided us with lots of information about the corn industry, which of course they were experts on because, hey, that was their job. Ethanol was the best thing that ever happened to corn farmers, they reassured us. If all the corn that goes into ethanol production was piled up, the heap would be taller than the Empire State Building! Instead, it’s producing clean, renewable energy and replacing toxic gasoline additives like xylene. Good for the environment, good for farmers, good for everybody.

After our initial briefing, one of the lobbyists took us out to the parking lot, where we embarked in the CORN CAR for our field trip. Yep, that’s right — not only was the vehicle emblazoned with a massive ear of corn and the words, “Corn — It’s the Future” — it was also powered by E-85.

As we drove on corn power to the ethanol plant, our lobbyist buddy wanted to get to know us better, so he asked all the usual questions — our majors, where we were from, etc. Usually, when I told someone from Ohio that I was from Michigan, their response was, “Well, we won’t hold that against you.” But when I told Mr. Lobbyist my home state, he broke out into a big grin. “Michigan! That means your senator is Debbie Stabenow. We love Debbie! We stop by her office every time we’re in Washington.” (Stabenow is now retired, but at the time she was the chair of the Senate ag committee).

I told him that I wanted to learn as much as I could about both organic and conventional agriculture so that I could make an informed decision about what was best. He got even friendlier after that, giving me lots of reassuring facts about why conventional farming was better and why pesticides were safe. GMOs like Roundup-ready corn are the best thing that ever happened to agriculture. But hey, if some misinformed people are mistakenly worried about them, they can buy organic food. There’s room for everybody.

The ethanol plant was new, shiny and smelled pleasantly like fermenting corn. After getting outfitted with the requisite PPE — hard hats, safety glasses and earplugs — we walked through the spotlessly clean facility, looking at lots of shiny pipes and vats. The mountains of yellow dried distiller’s grains were a superior cattle feed, our guide told us. And just in case any of us college students were thinking about sneaking a nip of the 200-proof alcohol, they made sure to tell us that it’s denatured with 1 percent gasoline before leaving the property so they don’t have to pay liquor taxes.

Our next stop was at a large co-op elevator. When we walked into the office building, two men greeted us and said, “Just four of you? We were expecting a bus!” They’d bought enough box lunches for everyone on it, too. We each helped ourselves to one sandwich out of the towering pile and learned more about the logistics of the international grain trade. They were worried about the deteriorating condition of the nation’s canal network, which is essential for cheaply moving surplus grain to port cities for export.

My lobbying buddy had a special surprise for me at the last stop, which was a farm where the farmer was harvesting soybeans (the corn wasn’t ripe yet). “Have you been in a big rig before?” he asked me, meaning a combine. When I told him I hadn’t, he asked the farmer to give me a ride around the field.

Ethanol plant — A modern ethanol plant, smelling pleasantly of fermented corn

I hopped up on the little jump seat in the combine cab, next to the farmer. His GPS self-guiding system wasn’t working that day, so he was a bit disgruntled because he had to steer the machine manually. But that didn’t really slow it down any. We zipped through the field comfortably in the air-conditioned, soundproof cab, mowing down a huge swath of soybeans at each pass with as little effort as driving a car.

Then it was back to the corn car for the ride back to headquarters, where the lobbyists encouraged us all to join their organization with a free student membership. One of the perks was an all-expenses-paid weeklong trip to Washington, D.C., to help with lobbying. I turned down the offer, though looking back now, maybe I should have taken them up on it just for the sake of another educational experience.

Happy and glowing from an exhilarating day, I returned to my apartment. And then I remembered the persuasive paper I had just written criticizing ethanol. I’d been pretty harsh on it, hadn’t I? Maybe that wasn’t really fair. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe ethanol really was a good thing. How could such nice and informed people be misguided? But I’d already submitted the paper, so I couldn’t change it.

Two days later, I woke up. It hit me like a shock of cold water. I suddenly realized that the lobbyists had turned their persuasive powers on me ! I looked back at all the peer-reviewed journal articles I had cited for my paper and, yes, I still felt like I had come to the right conclusion. But the only reason I had second-guessed what the lobbyists said was because I had taken the time to do so much research on my own — and the fact that I was also taking a persuasive communication class helped me recognize their methods.

Now I understand why lobbying is so powerful. Our senators and representatives don’t have time to do in-depth research on the myriads of topics they have to vote on. So, when these nice, knowledgeable people swing by their office, greet them by name, ask how the kids are doing, give them reams of statistics and expert advice on a topic, and assure them that they’re representing farmers — no wonder it works.

That’s why I didn’t have high hopes that the MAHA strategy report would actually criticize pesticides or anything else in conventional agriculture. I figured the lobbyists would work hard to maintain the status quo. And, unfortunately, it looks like I was right.

Anneliese Abbott is a contributing editor with Acres U.S.A. She is the author of Malabar Farm: Louis Bromfield, Friends of the Land, and the Rise of Sustainable Agriculture , and she runs the site historyoforganic.com . She has a master’s degree in agroecology from the University of Wisconsin-Madison and farms with her family in Otsego, Michigan.