The Empathy Gap: Why Bootstraps Won’t Fix a Broken System

It’s time to stop pretending that "hard work" is the only variable for success in American agriculture.

There is a disconnect in agriculture right now that is tearing the industry apart. It plays out in coffee shops, on Twitter (X), and in the private, agonizing conversations happening at kitchen tables across the country. On one side, you have established, multi-generational operations sitting on paid-for land. On the other, you have beginning farmers and ranchers drowning in debt, trying to build a business in an economic environment that is mathematically hostile to new entrants.

The problem isn’t just the economics. It is the narrative.

"The thing that we are looking at right now is an empathy gap in American agriculture," says Jonathon Haralson, host of the “Your Ag Empire” podcast. "The most dangerous lie in agriculture right now isn't about soil health or regenerative practices. It's the lie that the current system rewards competence equally regardless of starting position."

The "Bootstrap" Myth

We love the story of the self-made producer. The idea that if you just work harder, wake up earlier, and grind longer, you will succeed. It is the American Dream packaged for the farm. But in 2026, this narrative has become a weapon used to bludgeon those who are struggling.

"I want to talk about this whole 'pull yourself up by your bootstraps' mentality," Haralson says, arguing that hard work is the baseline in agriculture, not the differentiator. Success often comes down to luck and chance, not just who claims to be the "greatest farmer."

The difference often boils down to timing. Previous generations benefited from structural advantages that no longer exist. The Homestead Act gave away millions of acres. Rural electrification built infrastructure on the public dime. Farm credit systems were established to stabilize the industry.

"Previous generations had a lot of infrastructure and things that helped create that wealth piece," Haralson notes. "They bought land at low prices... So yes, there is a massive appreciation in those assets. So when we're looking at that and trying to dictate, 'Okay, well what worked for my family in 1915 for us to build this six-generation farm'... and then you go look at a new beginning farmer that's trying to start the same way? It just doesn't work. The math doesn't math."

The Competence Trap

When a sixth-generation farmer looks at a struggling first-generation farmer and offers advice based on their own success, it often misses the mark. It is not that the advice is bad; it is that the context is radically different.

Managing an operation with zero debt on land valued at $40 million requires a different skillset than managing an operation carrying $3 million in high-interest loans. When we ignore this context, we fall into the "competence trap"—assuming financial stability is proof of superior management, and financial struggle is proof of incompetence.

"The sixth-generation farmer, he didn't necessarily make better decisions," Haralson argues. "He inherited better decisions, better circumstances. And the struggling beginning farmer didn't necessarily make worse decisions. They're kind of playing in a rigged game."

This lack of empathy has real-world consequences. It contributes to the mental health crisis plaguing rural America. Suicide rates are rising. Families are fracturing under the pressure of succession plans that can’t reconcile the need for retirement income with the reality of farm profitability.

"That's why we're having these families getting divorces and splitting up," says Haralson. "The 'just work harder' narrative isn't actually a solution."

The Economic Reality Check

Let’s look at the numbers. Land prices have skyrocketed, driven not just by farm profitability, but by outside interests—data centers, wind turbines, solar farms, and investment firms. This separates the asset value of the land from its productive value. You cannot pay for $20,000-per-acre land by growing corn on it, especially when commodity prices have remained largely flat for 40 years while input costs have tracked or exceeded inflation.

"The capital requirement gap has fundamentally shifted," Haralson points out. "Interest rates were higher back in the seventies... but how much have we gone up in value? It's probably been a 10x easily."

For the 1,500 to 3,000-acre farm—the new "small farm" in America—this squeeze is existential. They are too big to be a hobby, but often too small to get the bulk discounts on seed and chemical that the mega-operations enjoy. When interest rates jumped from 3% to 10% or 12%, the rules of the game changed overnight.

"This isn't poor planning. This is the rules changed mid-game," Haralson says. "If you weren't paying attention to the moves that were happening... that's when it came back to bite us."

Bridging the Gap

So, how do we fix it? It starts with checking the ego at the door.

For established operators, this means acknowledging your success is real, but it stands on a foundation you didn’t pour yourself. Your advice is valuable, but only if you admit that starting position matters.

"Stop using that survivor bias as wisdom," Haralson urges. "The people who made it often had advantages that should be built into that somewhere."

For the industry as a whole, it means demanding structural changes rather than just better budgeting. We need land access programs that actually move the needle. We need credit programs designed for the current interest rate environment. We need to address corporate consolidation in inputs and processing.

"I'm not advocating for handouts," Haralson clarifies. "I'm advocating for an honest diagnosis here. Stop gaslighting struggling farmers. Stop it. The problem isn't primarily their management. It's the structure."

Until we are honest about the playing field, we will keep losing good operators who believe they failed, when actually, the system failed them. We need a unified front. We need to realize that whether you are a beginning farmer or a multi-generational legacy, the shrinking number of producers weakens everyone's political and social standing.

"We stay around, we are stronger together than we are divided," Haralson concludes. "So guys, with that... be good or be good at it."