One hand tied behind your back
No earthly power can change the immutable fact that where farming is concerned North is North. Finnish farmers seek stability from larger farm size, forestry and contracting work outside the short growing season.
The road from Helsinki to Sysmä passes striking vistas of the lovely Lake Päijänne, as well as views of the rolling fields of this agricultural region of Southern Finland.The municipality of Sysmä has 4,500 inhabitants and as many as 245 working farms, whose fields have a total area of almost 8,000 hectares. Out standing in his field is the farmer, sometimes whistling cheerfully, but occasionally cursing his luck, struggling to cope with unstable grain prices, rising costs, the shifting seasons and long distances to the markets.
Many farmers have decided that enough is enough. People are moving out of the Finnish countryside, and the remaining farmers have no choice but to try to maximise the areas they cultivate to achieve economies of scale.
One Sysmä farmer actively expanding his business is Matti Kantola, who in 1994 took over lands that have been in his family since 1721. Kantola, 43, mainly runs the farm by himself today, with occasional help from his wife, his 74-year-old father, and his brothers. The farm grows about 30 tonnes of cereals a year, including oats, barley and wheat, as well as 30 tonnes of timothy grass and 15−20 tonnes of caraway.
One man and his 180 hectares
“I feel very strong ties with these fields. I also think I’ve managed better than a normal farmer,” says Kantola.
When Kantola took over the reins of the farm, Finland was in deep recession and on the threshold of joining the EU. The place then had just under forty hectares of fields – about average for a Finnish farm. A kilo of grain would sell for some 80 pennies, or 13 cents in today’s terms.
Now Kantola’s farm has 180 hectares under cultivation, with grain prices hovering around 12 cents a kilo. There is little scope for further expansion, as the family members have no more time to put into the farm. Outside help is hard to find, as paid work can only be offered for short periods. The growing season is short in Finland, lasting from April to November in the south, or May to September further north. Grain farmers have to work all hours during the all too short summer.
New loads of grain have to be repeatedly fed into continually operating dryers, even during the night. Otherwise the threshing would be delayed. The work done by farmers in more southerly lands over the whole year must all be done by Finnish farmers in just a few months. This pushes up energy costs, while the short growing season means that yields per hectare are low by European standards. Finland’s long distances additionally increase transport costs.
Determinedly hanging on
Kantola has purposefully built up his farm knowing that this represents his only chance to keep his head above water. Returns per hectare on cereal crops have declined steadily, so farmers have to keep expanding even to maintain the same income level.
Kantola has also made other brave decisions. In 1999 he became the first farmer in Sysmä to start growing caraway. While farmers elsewhere in Europe were abandoning caraway production a few years back, due to a collapse in prices, Kantola did exactly the opposite. His far-sightedness has now borne fruit, with caraway prices expected to rise as high as a euro per kilo.
Forestry is another useful sideline for Kantola, who has built up the farm’s forest holdings to around 200 hectares, as a safeguard in case the future for farming becomes even more uncertain.
“Agricultural policies should be more consistent. We’re living in a time of constant change, and in fear of more changes, since we don’t know what lies in store,” says Kantola.
In spite of all the uncertainty, Kantola is still able to smile and keep his faith in the future. He stresses that someone has to keep working, so there’s no use just complaining, especially since he ultimately plans to enjoy his retirement in sunny Spain.
“There are hard challenges ahead. We’ve often wondered whether there’s any sense in going on. Last year gave us hope again, due to rising grain prices. Though the situation’s worsened again now, I still somehow believe we’re through the worst,” he says.
“When you know that your ancestors held on and survived here even through the famine years of the 19th century, then you think there’s no reason why I shouldn’t also be able to get by.”
By Tiia Lappalainen
Photos Seppo Samuli
