For this month’s edition of Rural Guardian, I had the privilege of interviewing the 2025 FMG Junior Young Farmers of the Year, John Lundy and Harry Parish.

I left that conversation feeling proud and hopeful.

These young men represent a generation brimming with passion, grit, and a deep commitment to agriculture.

The following week, I attended Lincoln University’s open day.

There, I saw hundreds of bright-eyed students, full of ambition and buzzing with ideas. They believe in this sector. They see a future here.

But what kind of future are we leaving them?

I worry for them, and for my own daughter as she begins her career path in agriculture.

Because while we often talk about the urban-rural divide, a more dangerous fracture is forming: one within the rural sector itself.

Recently, an opinion piece, no doubt written with the best of intentions, suggested those raising concerns about agriculture’s direction were pushing a “no-hope” narrative. It urged us to embrace optimism, curiosity, and calm.

And I get that. We do need hope. We do need a vision for the future.

But here’s the other side of the fence: frustration is rising in the paddocks.

Farmers are watching livelihoods eroded by policies dreamed up in offices far removed from muddy boots, broken gates, and hard-earned experience.

The disconnect is real between policymakers, agribusiness leaders, and even some rural advocates, and those who are actually working the land.

We all want thriving rural communities.

But there’s a big difference between talking about resilience and living through the slow erosion of small-town life as productive farmland disappears beneath carbon forestry.

More than 300,000 hectares of sheep and beef country have been converted since 2017.

When figures like that are laid bare, it’s hard to see how campaigns like Federated Farmers’ Save Our Sheep can be dismissed as being based on “high emotions”.

Farmers don’t feel heard.

They feel patronised when their concerns are labelled “doom-laden.”

Despair doesn’t grow in a vacuum.

It grows in the pressure of rising costs, shifting goalposts, and the sense that decisions are being made about farmers, not with them.

And if we don’t acknowledge that, the divide will only widen.

We cannot afford to swallow every narrative without question.

Recent history has taught us that much.

Groups like Groundswell and Federated Farmers have acted as canaries in the coal mine. We would do well to listen.

At the same time, let’s be clear: no one is rejecting the need for progress.

New Zealand farmers are among the most sustainable and efficient in the world.

That’s a trajectory we should be proud of and continue to lead.

But progress cannot be imposed.

It must be built with trust, collaboration, and genuine respect for those on the ground. Because no policy, no strategy, and no international agreement will ever succeed without the support of the people it affects most.

Let’s not leave our next generation wondering why we didn’t fight harder for the future they deserve.