Farms, Food, and the Power of Story
By Mary Silfven
Earlier this summer, a viral social media post from a well-loved Portland area farm took off, and many of us saw the emotional plea on social media to “save Oregon’s small farms.” It was urgent, persuasive, and deeply unsettling for people who love local food. It claimed that new rules from the Oregon Department of Land Conservation and Development (DLCD) would devastate agritourism, shut down beloved events, and threaten the survival of small farms across the state.
The problem? It wasn’t true.
The proposed rules weren’t a ban on u-picks, hayrides, or farm dinners. They weren’t retroactive, so no existing business would have been shut down. They were clarifications, an attempt to untangle confusing regulations around farm stand permits so counties could apply them more consistently and fairly. But the viral message was so powerful, so emotionally charged, that it swept up thousands of people who shared and reposted it without stopping to ask questions.
In other words, we just witnessed a misinformation campaign that worked. And it worked against the very farmers and farmland it claimed to defend.
Why This Matters
As a public health professional who works directly with farmers across Oregon to support a thriving small farm economy, I care deeply about the policies that shape whether small farms can survive. Through my work with the Pacific Northwest CSA Coalition, I see every day how access to land and fair processes determine whether families can continue farming. In fact, I care so much about how land use can impact our food system that I jumped on a chance to learn more by completing a course with 1000 Friends of Oregon called Land Use Leadership Initiative. This training program brings community leaders together to learn about Oregon’s land use planning system and how it shapes issues like housing, transportation, and farmland preservation. It has become clear to me how important a functional and democratic land use system is for a fair and beautiful Oregon. As a member of Slow Food Portland, I carry with me the belief that food should be good, clean, and fair, a vision that depends on thriving small farms, equitable access to land, and systems that prioritize community over unchecked development. For me, this isn’t just a policy debate; it’s about creating an equitable system that is fair to all types of farmers.
Oregon’s land use planning system is one of the strongest in the country. It’s the reason we still have small farms just minutes outside our cities instead of subdivisions, strip malls, or data centers. It helps keep farmland affordable, protects it from speculation, and ensures that agriculture, not real estate, remains the central purpose of farmland.
This system doesn’t exist to punish farmers. It exists to protect them. And many farmers themselves recognize this balance. Aaron Nichols from Stoneboat Farm, who has fought hard to keep farmland in Hillsboro from being swallowed by tech development, told me that while agritourism can be a wonderful way to connect people to farms, it has to coexist with neighbors who are farming for food. “Most farmers don’t do agritourism,” he explained. “And that’s fine—I think it’s a helpful, good thing for people to be able to go out and see farms and u-pick. But if someone were to put in a large u-pick or a large concert venue next to me, I would want them to have to get a permit. I would want them to go through the process that makes sure their new business isn’t harming my existing business, where I’m growing food. Asking for a permit and asking them to do a good neighbor test seems very reasonable.”
His perspective reminds us that permits aren’t about shutting farms down; they’re about making sure one farm’s expansion doesn’t jeopardize another farm’s survival.
And yet, not all farmers experience the system equally. The truth is that racism and inequity still shape who gets to farm and who is supported in the process. For farmers who are already marginalized, unclear rules aren’t just frustrating; they can be weaponized against them. Michelle Week, an Indigenous farmer who owns Good Rain Farm, put it plainly: “As a woman, as an Indigenous woman, like yeah rules, when left to be ambiguous, are subjectively interpreted and inequitably applied.” Her experience is not an exception but a reminder of how unevenly power is distributed in our food system. Clarity in rules isn’t bureaucracy for its own sake it is one of the tools that can prevent bias from dictating outcomes. And if we are serious about a just and resilient food system, then farmers of Color, queer farmers, women farmers, and other marginalized communities must not only be included but have real power and voice within it.
Michelle also spoke to the deeper problem with the viral campaign itself: it wasn’t about engaging in the hard work of policy; it was about stoking emotions. “When you look up the definition of misinformation,” she said, “it’s using heightened emotions to feed people lies with a little nibble of truth. And they run with it—it spreads like wildfire. I’ve watched as people dug their heels into knee-jerk reactions and refused to grow or learn from any other point.”
Her words should stop us in our tracks. The very farmers who live closest to these rules, the ones feeding their communities day in and day out, are telling us that clarity matters, that misinformation is harmful, and that social media outrage is not the path forward. But what was most concerning to me was watching farm after farm repeat the same incorrect information, the very same claims that the Oregon Property Owners Association (OPOA) was making about the proposed rule change. It’s worth pausing to ask why. OPOA has a long history of opposing Oregon’s land use protections. Their true goals might not be about supporting small farmers as they claim. They appear to be about loosening land use laws so that farmland can be treated like any other real estate commodity ripe for development, speculation, and profit.
And part of how this campaign gained traction was by attacking organizations that have long defended Oregon’s farmland protections. 1000 Friends of Oregon, one of Slow Food’s trusted partners, became a target of the misinformation campaign. That should give us pause. Why would those behind the campaign want to undermine trust in an organization that has fought for decades to keep farmland in farming?
That’s why this misinformation campaign was so troubling. It wasn’t just a misunderstanding about agritourism; it was a coordinated effort that aligned with the interests of those who would benefit from weakening protections for farmland. And when farms repeat those talking points without questioning them, they unintentionally lend credibility to an agenda that ultimately threatens their own survival.
The Lesson We Need to Take
The agritourism debate should never have become a viral firestorm. There were real concerns to discuss about how rules are enforced differently across counties, or how farmers can diversify without being buried in red tape. But instead of a collaborative process, fear and misinformation took over.
And this is where the real danger lies. When people jump on a social media bandwagon without pausing to ask hard questions, the result can be the erosion of trust in the very systems that keep small farms viable. Aaron put it simply: “If there’s anything in the rules that are really devastating or have unintended consequences, then Topaz farms, or any other farm, should absolutely go to the rule-making process. Explain the problem, bring the facts, and expect to have the rules changed. And if that doesn’t happen, then, yeah, they should consider going in other directions. But first, you know, bring facts to the actual committee making the rules. And Instagram is not maybe the best place to do that.”
That advice cuts to the heart of it. Facts belong in the process, not in viral panic posts. And if we care about preserving democracy, we need to think critically and engage correctly in the democratic process. Equitable rules are a key function in a healthy and thriving society.
Moving Forward Together
As a member of Slow Food, I believe deeply in the power of story. But stories carry responsibility. They can nourish us, bring us together, and spark action. Or, as we’ve just seen, they can confuse, divide, and erode the very foundations of community food systems.
The farm stand rulemaking process has been paused for now. That gives us time to reflect and to remember why Oregon still has such a strong small farm community in the first place. It’s not just luck. It’s because of decades of policies, processes, and advocacy that have kept farmland in farming.
If we want to keep farming alive in Oregon, let’s treat this moment as a lesson. Let’s commit to asking questions, reading carefully, and thinking critically before we share. And let’s keep telling stories that strengthen the systems and values we care about: good food, fair access, biodiversity, and community, so that Oregon remains a place where small farms can thrive for generations to come.
Photos by: Sarah Yeoman