Chapter 8: Settling the Dries By Building Heavy Agriculture, or How We Outcompete the Capitalists: Part II

Inside those greenhouses, food forestry means taking the principle of the three sisters, and putting it on steroids. The ancient Mesoamericans grew corn, beans, and squash in the same fields. The beanstalks would grow up the cornstalks and add nitrogen to the soil for the other two, and the broad leaves of the squash would shade out weeds from growing at their base. Three healthy crops would be obtained at once in one plot of soil, and the soil could be sown in like manner year after year without exhaustion.

There will certainly be the three sisters growing in these greenhouses. They will be watered by artificial streams in which fish will swim and ducks and turkeys will eat bugs, growing in the shade of fruit trees with their own vining plants growing on them, with light-agnostic mushrooms growing under them, and all of it will be lit by sunlight reinforced by artificial light powered by renewable energy, so that winter won't stop the crop rotation.

The agricultural collective will start with housing and growing crops, because food and shelter are the most urgent of human needs. By providing them for ourselves, we break capitalism's grip over us, allowing us to put our full efforts towards building socialism. Once we are providing ourselves with a subsistence lifestyle, however, the collective must make money.

The most immediate way to make money will be by selling surplus food. There are farmers' markets where this is possible, but we will ultimately get the best price if the collective starts a little cafe, maybe even a full-blown truck stop, by the interstate and sells it as a meal. Additionally, such vertical integration would allow both the farm and restaurant aspects of the operation to work more cheaply and efficiently than they would separately, and grow more quickly.

Agricultural production also creates byproducts that have commercial value. We will probably not sell cannabis as that is highly regulated in this state, but just by growing it for ourselves, we will have lots of hemp left over as a byproduct. This can make ropes. This can make paper and paper can make books and books can make a publishing house. This can make thread, and thread can make cloth, and cloth can make clothes. All these industries will slowly arise in the collective out of a byproduct of some comrades' personal habits.

Similarly, a leatherworking industry could emerge out of butchering the animals we raise for food on plant and kitchen waste, like, say, rabbits. Animals we grow for wool could be the basis of a textile industry. The more money we earn from trading with the capitalist world, the more money we can invest in the means of production necessary to spin off more industries from our leftovers and employ more people in the collective.

Capital makes its profits not just by controlling production, but by controlling distribution. So as the collective grows its productive capacity, it must grow its distributive capacity as well. We must establish our own general stores to accompany our cafes in our truck stops. And having given the matter some thought, I do believe I mean to say truck stops. With the coronavirus currently wreaking its havoc, the importance of the trucking industry to the provisioning of America has become evident. Therefore, provisioning the provisioners is just as important. America can survive the collapse of Bear Stearns; it cannot survive the collapse of Flying J. It seems only natural that a socialist collective seek to dominate this oft-neglected industry, especialy since it represents a natural monopoly: because there are only so many places a semi can park at night, professional truckers can only buy their necessary goods at truck stops, who charge preposterous markups as a result. We could easily dominate this industry just by selling our food and goods for fair prices.

Furthermore, every American travels; it seems like one of our last remaining birthrights to roam the open highway. Truck stops are modern-day caravanserais for the working class traveller; a place to park one's car for the night and catch some rest if the rest areas are full. If travelling workers can hear about socialism from a collective enterprise that treats them fairly and takes care of any among them with immediate needs (it shouldn't be beyond the means of this collective to offer free simple but nutritious meals to the starving, or a couple hours of work to people who need gas money), they will come to embrace it as well as providing us with a ready market to supply goods to.

Continue reading Part III