Gdańsk, Feb. 9, 2024 — It’s a frosty and foggy morning in my hometown on the Baltic coast of Poland. Everything is strangely quiet. Noises are stifled in the milky air. The only prominent sound is that of birds, chirping away. But the calm is about to end.
Farmers from multiple surrounding regions have come here together in cars and tractors, and they keep coming. Minute by minute, more tractors roll in, blocking the streets as they march towards the seat of the Pomeranian province government.
“I am a farmer, not a slave,” reads a banner attached to the front of one tractor. “Green Deal = hunger,” says another banner attached to a railing.
More than 250 strikes are taking place throughout the country on this day, at entrances to motorways and at the border with Ukraine. The Polish farmers are joining recent protests happening across other European Union countries. From Portugal to France to Poland, farmers are denouncing strict regulations imposed by the EU Green Deal, in the light of which they say they stand no chance in competing with imports from other countries where such rules are not in place.
Braving the cold temperatures, I hold onto my sketchbook and felt-tip pens with numb hands and find my way to the entrance of the government building. The protesters have gathered here to sign a petition and submit it to Polish prime minister Donald Tusk.
Some farmers represent the Pomeranian Chamber of Agriculture, an organization that works in support of farmers, while others are with the Rural Solidarity, a trade union of independent farmers.
Several speakers take turns and their voices mix with the ever present, powerful noise of tractor engines.
“Without farmers, there’s no food,” says one of the speakers surrounded by a crowd in high-visibility vests.
Another speaker names other threats to local farmers: the EU import deal with Mercosur in South America and the duty-free import of grain from Ukraine.
“We are competing against huge agro-holdings,” he says. He assures that the farmers here have nothing against Ukraine, and explains that those farms over there are run by international corporations. The price of grain is falling as a result, he adds, while the price to run a farm in Poland grows.
One man stands out from the usual scramble of flags and banners. He’s gripping an old scythe adorned with white and red ribbons. It’s a war scythe, the same kind with which the Polish peasants fought in their revolts centuries ago.
“It’s incredible, everybody is here,” says one of the farmers with emotion. “We really had a good response from everyone, even the politicians agree with our arguments.” And you can feel that the spirits are high; people are together, full of passion.
After the petition is signed and speeches have concluded, everyone gets into their vehicles, and with their loud tractor horns and their huge tractor wheels, rolls away onto the main road that leads into the city center.
Calm returns to the city, but only for a while, for another batch of tractors rallies across an overpass, heading in a different direction. “Who are these guys?” asks one of the remaining farmers. “I think they’re driving towards Elbląg!” he adds. “No, they’re our guys!” shouts the other.
I run to get closer to the road and by the time I get there to draw, tractors are coming from and towards all directions. The honking and the beeping cuts through the (now fog-less) air, and continues to do so for a good 20 minutes. People stop and stare; children shout excitedly.
Not everyone seems to understand what is really going on or why the farmers are protesting.
“I don’t know what’s the deal with those farmers, but they’ve been talking about them on TV all day. The streets are blocked with tractors … it’s damn crazy here. I hear it’s something to do with them being against Ukraine, because of the war and so on…” says a lady to her phone at a pedestrian crossing, waiting for the light to turn green.
But everybody hears what seems to me like the loudest traffic ever to disturb these streets. If you live in Europe, you must be hearing it too.
