In France, a new favorite word has appeared: “food sovereignty.” It sounds like independence, self-determination, and national strength. Who could be against that? Who would want to import food from across the ocean if it can grow right on their own doorstep?
The government’s answer is extremely simple: if farmers protest, the rules are relaxed. If farmers can protest again — the rules are relaxed even more. And if, in the process, wetlands disappear, rivers dry up, or animals lose their last habitats — well, nature doesn’t block highways or dump garbage in front of ministries.
The real tragedy of this new agricultural law is not in the individual paragraphs. It lies in its message. Suddenly France acts as if it must make a choice: either agriculture or the environment. Either food or biodiversity. Either the farmer or the beaver.
What an absurd choice.
Because nature is not the enemy of agriculture. It is its condition. Without water, there is no harvest. Without pollinating insects, there will be no orchard trees. Without healthy soils, there is no food sovereignty. Whoever cuts the branch they are sitting on should not be surprised if they eventually fall.
The political speed of this turnaround is particularly noticeable. For years, citizens were told that climate change is the greatest challenge of our time. Protecting biodiversity is indispensable. Water will become the most valuable resource of the century.
Then a few months of farmers’ protests—and suddenly politicians discover that environmental requirements were apparently rather meaningless decoration.
Nature has a structural problem: it has no lobby with rows of tractors. Frogs do not march in Paris. Wetlands do not block prefectures. Bees do not organize general strikes. They simply disappear. Quietly. Forever.
Unfortunately, this is its political weakness.
Thus, a law that was supposed to support agriculture becomes a document of political capitulation. Not to the farmers — their concerns are often justified. But to the idea that short-term conflicts can be resolved by aggravating long-term problems.
France today celebrates agriculture. And that’s understandable. But eventually the bill will come. And then it may turn out that food sovereignty on a dried-up field is as convincing a concept as sailing without water.
Nature does not make demands. It does not write petitions. It does not vote.
It simply reacts. And its verdicts are final.