The View from Down Under: Global Ag Perspectives with Pete Debus
In the vast, sun-bleached expanse of Western New South Wales, the earth is flat, the rain is scarce, and the stakes are impossibly high. It is a landscape that would feel eerily familiar to a West Texas cotton grower, save for the accent of the man navigating it.
Pete Debus, Director of PrincipleFocus, doesn't just count beans for the farmers of Australia; he acts as their navigator. Sitting down with Empire Ag’s Jonathon Haralson in Auckland, New Zealand, for a recent episode of the “Your Ag Empire” podcast, Debus offered a masterclass in agricultural resilience that transcends borders.
"We’re flying with no net," Debus says, his voice carrying the calm authority of someone who has seen the numbers in the best of times and the worst. "We experience a lot of droughts and flooding rains."
Unlike their American counterparts, Australian producers operate without the safety net of government subsidies. When the market crashes or the sky dries up, there is no check in the mail. This harsh reality has forged a steel-spined efficiency in the Australian agricultural sector—a survival instinct that American producers, currently staring down tight margins and volatile inputs, would do well to study.
The 5% Holy Grail
Debus, a self-described "military brat" who lived in 27 houses by the age of 25, brings a disciplined, strategic eye to the chaotic business of farming. He doesn't believe in running a farm; he believes in running a professional business that happens to produce food and fiber.
The metric he chases is exacting. "The average Australian farmer is making between one-and-a-half and 2% return on assets," Debus explains. "We want him to get to five."
That shift—from 2% to 5%—is not just a number on a spreadsheet. It is the difference between survival and empire-building. "That’s the holy grail," he says. "There's no point in getting a 5% return if we burn the people and the land... It's gotta be a holistic thing to make it work."
To achieve this, Debus advocates for a radical shift in perspective. Too many producers, he argues, drive through life looking in the rearview mirror. "80% of accountants are like a statistician at the end of a car rally race. They'll tell you how many kilometers you travel, your average speed, and your fuel. At the end of the race."
Debus prefers the passenger seat. "The other 20% of accountants are sitting in the seat next to you while you're driving. And they're navigators. They're looking at the windscreen instead of just looking in the rear view mirror... I can't change a single number that happened in the past. I just want to change the numbers going forward."
The Talent Imperative
Perhaps the most striking insight Debus offers concerns the human element of agriculture. In an industry that often prides itself on solitary stoicism, Debus argues that the "lone ranger" mentality is a liability. The farm of the future requires a team, and finding that team requires a willingness to invest before the revenue arrives.
"If someone with talent walks [past the gate], I bring him in," Debus says. "It doesn't matter. Bring 'em in. 'Cause I'll go find revenue to pay their wage."
Haralson, whose own clients often hesitate to hire due to budget constraints, presses the point: "What if you can't afford them?"
"Good talent doesn't walk past the front gate very often," Debus counters. He recounts seeing farmers who are "busted, tired, overworked, and not making good decisions" because they refuse to delegate. The moment they hire help—whether it’s a bookkeeper or a farm hand—the headspace clears. "All of a sudden, they start making all the right decisions. 'Cause they've got time to think about the business."
The Succession Standoff
The conversation inevitably turns to the elephant in the barn: succession. It is a universal struggle, playing out in feedlots in Texas and sheep stations in New South Wales alike. Debus notes that Australian farmers are world-class at "lingering on," often handing over the business on paper while refusing to relinquish control in practice.
"Transferring land is actually quite simple," Debus notes. "Transferring a business is like teaching someone to drive."
He warns against the inertia that sets in with age. Citing a professor from the Kellogg School of Family Business, Debus says, "If people haven't made their minds up by 70, they won't make them up after that age. They just won't make a decision."
To avoid the family wars depicted in shows like “Yellowstone,” which Debus watches with great empathy, he advises starting early and building wealth off-farm. "If you want the next generation to come through, you gotta get out of the way," he says. By using the farm's equity to invest in commercial property or other assets, the older generation can secure a retirement income that doesn't bleed the operation dry, allowing the "learner drivers" to take the wheel.
Have a Crack
Despite the challenges—soaring land values, the "tyranny of the operation," and the complexities of global trade—Debus remains an optimist. He sees a world population that needs feeding and an industry ripe for innovation, from robots spot-spraying weeds to cotton bales stamped with chemical trackers.
His parting advice to American producers is borrowed from the Australian vernacular: "Have a crack."
"You gotta take risks in business to make it work," Debus says. In a year where caution feels like the safest bet, his message is a reminder that fortune favors the bold. Whether it’s hiring that expensive employee, pivoting from cotton to cattle, or finally having the hard conversation with Dad, the only wrong move is standing still.
"We're flying with no net," he reminds us. But for those willing to look through the windshield rather than the rearview mirror, the view is spectacular.
