Who Will Pick Our Crops? The Fragile Excuse of Exploitation
The True Price of Exploited Farmworkers
Every so often, when the conversation veers toward the societal costs of illegal immigration, one can almost predict the emergence of a tired refrain, delivered with all the sincerity of a child rehearsing lines for a school play. “Who will pick our crops?” they ask, as though this plaintive wail were some profound economic insight rather than the rhetorical equivalent of a fig leaf hastily employed to cover up moral abdication. It’s a question designed not to spark a discussion on the issue, as you’ll often find they can’t discuss much further than that line. It’s brought up as a rhetorical device, not to initiate a discussion on illegal immigration, but to silence it, cloaked in the garb of economic pragmatism while quietly reeking of complacency. This is the anthem of those who defend a system built on frailty, fear, and the exploitation of the vulnerable—all while pretending it’s the unshakable bedrock of our prosperity.
You see, the “Who will pick our crops?” argument is as much an economic analysis as claiming that duct tape is a cure-all for a crumbling building. It’s the plaintive cry of those who see fragility and confuse it with resilience—who believe that patching a failing system is somehow equivalent to reforming it. Like a chorus that repeats despite its discordant notes, the 'Who will pick our crops?' refrain resurfaces in every discussion on illegal immigration. It’s less an inquiry than an incantation—a talisman against the specter of reform. After all, genuine reform might require actual work—difficult choices, ethical consideration, and—dare I say—a bit of courage. Instead, we are left with hand-wringing over the fate of our fruit bowls, which is as persuasive as a foghorn in a string quartet.
So let’s have a look on this topic that so many raise and so few actually explore and at least for those reading this, retire this excuse and expose it for the unserious drivel that it is.A Convenient Excuse for Exploitation
The appeal to “Who will pick our crops?” rests on the laughably thin premise that undocumented workers must remain trapped in a cycle of underpayment and exploitation, lest the rest of us face the unthinkable calamity of marginally higher grocery bills. It is an argument so devoid of moral or economic seriousness that one wonders how it has managed to persist in any forum where rational thought is expected. Far from being a defense of economic necessity, it is a convenient justification for preserving a system reliant on voiceless, disposable labor.
And let’s not ignore the obvious parallels. My critiques here apply equally to the H-1B visa system, where corporate interests dress up exploitation as benevolent necessity. The same voices advocating for undocumented farm labor often sing a similar tune in defense of H-1B workers, championing systems designed to suppress wages and strip power from workers—all to line corporate coffers. While the mechanics may differ, the outcome is eerily similar: a preservation of comfort for a select few at the expense of justice for many.
For now, let us focus on agriculture, where the argument for exploitation takes on its most cartoonishly thin veneer of economic pragmatism. Let’s examine the actual numbers behind this charade. In farm labor, wages typically account for less than 10% of the retail cost of food. That’s right—if your apple costs a dollar, the labor required to pick it amounts to a mere dime. Now imagine doubling the wages of farmworkers, allowing them to earn a living wage. What happens? That apple now costs $1.10. Ten cents. A rounding error in a world where retail markups, fuel costs, and global trade disruptions wield far greater influence on prices.
The argument that increasing farmworker wages would somehow collapse the agricultural industry is not just fragile—it’s transparently absurd. It’s akin to building a house of cards and claiming it’s an architectural marvel. The only thing propping up this delusion is a collective willingness to ignore its glaring vulnerabilities. In reality, this defense is so thin that a light breeze of scrutiny sends it tumbling into irrelevance.
But of course, that’s the point, isn’t it? The “Who will pick our crops?” refrain isn’t about seeking solutions—it’s about stifling conversation. It’s an argument employed not to address the issue but to deflect from it, to avoid the uncomfortable truth that a system predicated on the exploitation of the vulnerable is neither sustainable nor just. And as with the H-1B system as I’ve covered before (here, here, here, here, here and podcasted here) the real winners are not the workers or even the consumers, but the corporations that profit from the status quo while cloaking their greed in the language of necessity and even humanitarianism.
The question, then, isn’t whether we can afford to pay farmworkers fairly. It’s whether we can afford to continue pretending that we can’t.
Fragility Masquerading as Strength
Historically speaking systems that are dependent on artificially suppressed costs, or reliant on the exploitation of a vulnerable class, are inherently fragile. They appear stable only until they encounter the slightest disruption—a labor shortage, a legal change, or even a virus that halts global movement.
The U.S. agricultural sector is a textbook example of fragility masquerading as strength. Its dependence on underpaid, undocumented labor is not a sign of resilience but of brittleness. Instead of building a system capable of adapting to change, we've crafted one that’s vulnerable to the slightest upheaval. This is the very definition of fragility—a system that breaks under pressure rather than one that bends and adapts. By defending the status quo, the “Who will pick our crops?” crowd isn’t championing agriculture; they’re championing cowardice.
The Rule of Law vs. the Illusion of Compassion
What’s particularly grating about this argument is how it cloaks itself in a facade of compassion. We're told that undocumented workers are “doing the jobs Americans won’t do,” as if the mere fact of performing an unpleasant task absolves society of ensuring fair treatment and decent wages. But if we interrogate this assumption we find it breaks under scrutiny. Why won’t Americans do these jobs? Could it be that the conditions are so poor, the wages so low, and the protections so minimal that only the most desperate are willing to accept them?
The defenders of the status quo would have you believe that they are safeguarding these workers' livelihoods. In truth, they’re merely safeguarding their own comfort. Other physically demanding, often dangerous jobs—construction, waste management, or truck driving—offer higher wages, benefits, and legal protections. The work is hard, but it pays fairly. So why doesn’t agriculture do the same? Could it be that the cost of a fair wage is just too high for those who’ve grown accustomed to cutting corners on the backs of the most vulnerable?
A Market Out of Balance
The crux of the issue is that agriculture has, for far too long, relied on a model that is incompatible with modern economic realities. Unlike construction, oil drilling, or even waste management, the agricultural sector has largely eschewed innovation in favor of maintaining the status quo. Automation? Too expensive, they say. Competitive wages? Well, that would just make everything costlier for the consumer. Better working conditions? Sure, but let’s not get carried away.
Here lies the problem: when labor is artificially cheap, businesses have no incentive to innovate. They have every reason to perpetuate a system that is neither sustainable nor just. Other industries—fishing, mining, forestry—have modernized, offering wages and conditions that reflect the demands of the job. Why should agriculture be the exception?
The “Who will pick our crops?” defense would have you believe that agriculture is a special case, as if crops, unlike any other industry, are inherently dependent on exploitation. This isn’t an argument; it’s an excuse.
The Alternatives: Fairness, Automation, and Innovation
If we’re serious about reform, then let’s be serious. We need a multi-faceted approach:
Automation and Innovation: The reluctance to automate is purely a matter of cost. As long as labor is cheap, why invest in machines? But machines don’t get sick, don’t sue, and don’t need healthcare. Over the long term, automation would make agriculture more efficient and less dependent on a precarious labor pool.
Immigration Reform: A rational immigration policy would ensure a steady flow of legal labor, free from the shadow of exploitation. Guest worker programs could fill seasonal gaps, but without trapping individuals in a system that denies them basic rights.
Restoring Competition in Agribusiness to Solve Labor and Immigration Issues: The consolidation of agriculture into the hands of a few massive corporations perpetuates the immigration issue by creating a system that relies on cheap, exploitable labor. These agribusiness monopolies have the resources to lobby politicians on both sides of the aisle, ensuring that meaningful immigration reform is perpetually sidelined. By reducing consolidation and empowering smaller, competitive enterprises, we can break this cycle, encouraging fair labor practices and removing the perverse incentives that keep the immigration issue unresolved.
Tax incentives for automation could spark innovation in agriculture, while robust yet minimal guest worker protections could ensure a legal labor pool without exploiting the vulnerable.
Strengthen Enforcement of Existing Workforce Immigration Policies: Ensure that current immigration laws are consistently enforced to prevent the exploitation of undocumented workers and reduce the incentive for employers to hire them at unfair wages. This includes increasing funding for inspections, penalties for non-compliance, and resources for agencies tasked with monitoring workforce practices.
Fragility and Cowardice
Behind every box of strawberries or bushel of apples lies the silent suffering of an undocumented workforce—individuals denied the dignity of fair wages, forced to accept invisibility as the cost of survival. Behind this are those who are exploited further by cartels, international gangs and other bad actors that trap involve those seeking these American jobs as a pull to what they believe is a better life. These exploiters trap them in drug trafficking, human trafficking and criminal activity.
At its heart, the “Who will pick our crops?” question is not just an economic argument; it’s it’s empty moral core. It asks us to accept this system built on exploitation, a system that is both fragile and unjust, in the name of minor savings at the checkout line. This isn’t an argument for resilience; it is an argument for cowardice.
It’s time we face the issue head-on, rather than hiding behind rhetorical fig leaves. A robust society does not depend on the exploitation of the vulnerable, nor does it shield fragility under the guise of economic necessity. Let’s demand better—for the workers, for the industry, and for ourselves. After all, the question isn't really "Who will pick our crops?" but "What kind of society are we willing to accept?"
Because if your economy relies on exploitation, it’s not an economy worth defending—it’s a travesty waiting to collapse under the weight of its own moral bankruptcy. Let’s dispense with the charade. “Who will pick our crops?” must stop being a hollow talking point masquerading as compassion and start being a genuine question about sustainable alternatives—ones that avoid perpetuating the moral hazard we prop up with empty virtue signaling.
The next time someone asks, “Who will pick our crops?” answer not with silence or complicity but with solutions worthy of a society that values resilience over exploitation. The cost of reform is far less than the price of perpetuating moral decay. Time to find a better argument.
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