Agriculture is a business that has been up to its bib overalls

"Agriculture is a business that has been up to its bib overalls in politics since the first Thanksgiving dinner kickback to the Indians for subsidizing Pilgrim maize production with fish head fertilizer grants." With his sharp wit and biting irony, P. J. O’Rourke uncovers a truth wrapped in humor: that agriculture has never been separate from politics, and that even the most sacred of national myths—the First Thanksgiving—was entangled with negotiations, dependencies, and power. His words remind us that the food on our tables is not only the fruit of soil and toil, but also of alliances, bargains, and, too often, exploitation.

The origin of this satire rests in history itself. The Pilgrims, arriving in a strange land, were saved from starvation by the guidance of the Wampanoag, who taught them to plant maize and enrich the soil with fish heads as fertilizer. Without this knowledge, the settlers may not have survived the harsh winters. The shared feast that became the mythic Thanksgiving was, in truth, not only a moment of gratitude but also an expression of political alliance, a fragile pact between peoples. O’Rourke’s words exaggerate this into the language of subsidies and grants, making visible the political dimensions that were always there, hidden beneath the romanticized tale.

Throughout history, the bond between farming and politics has been undeniable. From the Roman Empire, where grain doles fed the populace and secured the loyalty of citizens, to medieval Europe, where feudal lords controlled harvests as instruments of power, agriculture has always been the foundation of political life. Even in America’s founding, disputes over land, tariffs, and subsidies for farmers shaped the growth of the republic. O’Rourke, with humor, unmasks this reality: the plow and the vote have always been yoked together.

Yet satire always carries a double edge. O’Rourke’s playful reference to "fish head fertilizer grants" points not only to history but also to the modern entanglement of government subsidies, farm policies, and global trade. The farmer’s overalls, simple and sturdy, are never free of political stains. Behind the apparent simplicity of planting and harvesting lies a vast web of regulation, support, and negotiation. What looks like the most honest labor—the tilling of soil—is never divorced from the maneuvers of power.

And yet, there is something heroic here. For agriculture is not only a political bargaining chip; it is also the sacred labor upon which civilization rests. The first thanksgiving feast, however politicized, was still a moment of survival, of cooperation, of shared sustenance. O’Rourke’s satire does not destroy this truth; it challenges us to recognize that gratitude at the table must not blind us to the forces that shape who eats and who does not. Agriculture is the root of nations, and thus it will always be bound to politics, for he who controls the harvest controls the future.

The lesson for future generations is this: do not romanticize the past to the point of blindness, nor despise the present with cynicism. Instead, understand that the politics of food are as ancient as civilization itself, and to ignore them is folly. When you give thanks at the table, remember the hands that grew the food, the systems that enabled it, and the justice—or injustice—that determined its distribution. Thanksgiving must not only be a feast of gratitude but also a call to equity and stewardship.

Practical action flows from this insight. Learn where your food comes from. Support farmers with fairness, not just subsidies that enrich a few. Seek policies that sustain the soil and respect the dignity of those who labor upon it. Teach children that the story of maize and fish heads is not only a tale of survival, but also a parable of interdependence, politics, and responsibility. For to eat is to be bound to the earth, and to the structures of power that govern it.

Thus, O’Rourke’s words, though spoken in jest, resound as a warning wrapped in laughter: agriculture has always been political, and Thanksgiving itself was born in the crucible of that truth. To eat in ignorance is to remain blind; to eat with awareness is to honor both the blessing and the burden of the harvest. And in this awareness, we discover the true spirit of thanksgiving—not only to receive, but to understand, to act, and to ensure that the blessings of the earth are shared with justice.