Would we even notice a farmers’ strike?

You might think that, as a country, we have had our fair share of food security wobbles over the last few years: first with pre-Brexit panic, and the hoarding that went along with it, and then the empty supermarket shelves that few of us will forget during the height of the pandemic. But this time, the call is coming from inside the house: British farmers are threatening to stop supplying supermarkets in protest against the government’s plans to apply inheritance tax to family farms.

What does that mean for the average person doing the weekly shop? Are we returning to the days of rationed eggs and powdered milk? Not quite. The way we eat has changed: globalisation is great for the consumer – how wonderful it is to live in an age where we live in the United Kingdom but can buy beautiful mangoes in the supermarket, or know what yuzu tastes like? – but it has skewed how we think about food. We’re more disconnected from what is actually grown in our own country, and we’ve lost any expectation of eating seasonally.

It’s not so good for the farmers, either, as these cheaper imports drive down the price that British producers can demand for their food. Even before the outcry against the family farm tax, farmers were protesting against supermarkets’ ‘farm-washing’, a branding practice which makes consumers believe they are buying British produce when they aren’t.

The importation of produce makes sense from a food security point of view; diversifying where we find our food means that should one source fail, we have other options. It’s not perfect – as we felt when the war in Ukraine meant that the price of cooking oil sky-rocketed – but for the most part it gives us a safety net. But it does rather undermine the drama of a local supply chain strike. We import beef from Ireland, and potatoes from the Netherlands, and even much of our cheddar comes from abroad; we may not feel the hit as profoundly as the farmers would like.

While there would no doubt be some disruption – an abrupt absence of certain products and lines is going to have a noticeable effect on the sheer quantity of expected stock on shelves in the short term – we no longer rely as heavily on homegrown or homebred produce as we once did or, arguably, should.

Perhaps that’s why there have been threats of attempting to prevent imports: one anonymous farmer told the Telegraph that farmers would go even further than stop their own supply, and block ports, airports and rail lines. Similar actions happened in ports in Belgium, Germany and France last year, with farmers using their tractors to barricade the ports to protest tax changes. If that were to happen here, we would likely feel the effects in a far more profound way.

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The National Farmers’ Union, however, has refused to support these supply strikes, so it’s anyone’s guess as to how this will play out. What we might be able to cook in a few weeks is as expansive as ‘almost anything’ or as limited as ‘almost nothing.’

Some people have been getting ready for this all their lives. There are people across the world, whole communities of them, preparing for the unthinkable. These preppers have been dehydrating vegetables, canning everything from apple sauce to chicken, and stockpiling bottled water – all to shore them up for uncertain times, from temporary water or electricity shortages, to world war three, climate change and out-and-out apocalypses. Hopefully we’re not looking at any of the latter scenarios.

But assuming you are not a prepper, and you don’t have a stock of homemade jerky to draw on, what are you going to do if the supply chain suddenly shudders to a halt? Whether or not you support the farmers’ plight, you’re still likely to feel a little Old-Mother-Hubbard-y staring down a limited array of ingredients. In those circumstances, fresh produce – meat, dairy, fruit and veg – will be the first items that we feel the loss of, with their shorter shelf life meaning that they will disappear faster if food distribution is compromised. That means that we will need to turn to longer-life items and pantry staples.

But we’re good at that, you know? The British have form in times of austerity for turning leftovers, pantry ingredients, and humble beginnings into beautiful dishes. We have a fondness for suet (which, although originally from cows, is both shelf-stable and also available in a vegetarian version), a dozen different ways with breadcrumbs, and we love dried fruit so much it could feature on our national flag. We make gorgeous pies from corned beef and cakes from lard. We have endured shortages before, and surely will again – but that doesn’t make the farmers’ threat hollow.

We know that, irrespective of the inheritance tax decision, a huge number of British farmers struggle to turn a profit. A decision to withhold British produce from the British public may well do more than hurt the government. It may do what farmers have been trying to do for some time: show the average and well-meaning consumer how little of the produce they buy actually comes from home turf. We’re a nation that purports to hold dear our farming heritage, and the breeds, grain, landscape and skills that go along with this – and if we want it to survive, we have to be prepared to put out money where our mouth is, and pay a proper price for British farmed produce.