I am Alan Robson, and for the past 26 years I have served as Agricultural Chaplain for Lincolnshire. My education began in more practical ways. I married a pig farmer’s daughter, spent my Saturdays working on a pig farm, and learned first-hand the physical demands of farming and the constant pressure of forces beyond human control. Weather, markets, disease, policy decisions made far away — all of these shape daily life on a farm, and all of them generate deep anxiety.
There is a phrase used in business circles that feels painfully apt for farming: BANI — brittle, anxious, non-linear and incomprehensible. Farming has lived in that reality for decades. The food system depends on weather, yet we are not climate-resilient. It depends on policy, yet the UK lacks a coherent, integrated food and farming strategy. Instead, people operate in silos, flying blind. Politicians fly blind. Farmers are expected to build viable businesses while navigating chaos.
Foot and Mouth disease did not create this instability; it exposed it. Even before the outbreak, agriculture was already fragile. Milk prices were volatile, as they are again today. Markets were unpredictable. What shocked many of us was learning that only around 0.2% of the animals slaughtered during the outbreak actually had Foot and Mouth. We were simply not prepared. The result was devastation, emotional, economic and spiritual and a bill running into billions.
Lincolnshire did not experience the mass slaughter seen in places like Cumbria, where my colleague David ministered among scenes of unimaginable loss: pits of animals, the presence of the army, entire herds wiped out. But even without the disease itself, Lincolnshire farmers lived with severe restrictions. Stock could not be moved. Abattoirs lacked capacity. Businesses were paralysed. Some suffered terribly; others, truthfully, found compensation provided an exit from an industry they could no longer sustain. Foot and Mouth left scars — and scars remain, even when the wounds have healed.
As a chaplain, my role has never been only about comfort, though that matters deeply. It is also about listening, connecting, and advocating. I learned early on that chaplaincy is about people and relationships. After Foot and Mouth, I undertook an MSc in Trauma and Disaster Management because I wanted to understand not just what went wrong, but how we could do better.
I am not convinced we have learned the lessons. We remain unprepared for crisis. Avian flu, bovine TB, insecure borders for food nand climate change, these threats are not hypothetical. Government reports have been blunt: the UK is not ready. We invest heavily in military defence, yet food and water security are equally vital to the nation’s wellbeing. Disease, not people, is what truly worries me.
I describe chaplaincy through four Cs: being confident, a catalyst, a champion and a connector between farmers, churches and policymakers.
This is where faith matters. Farming communities live close to life and death. Livestock farmers encounter it weekly. I rarely meet farmers who are wholly atheistic. They may not articulate belief in church language, but they hold a holistic understanding of life, land and loss. They understand cycles, fragility and dependence in ways many urban communities have lost.
The writer Robert MacFarlane says, “When we lose our sense of wonder, then we are truly lost.” Farmers, perhaps more than most, remain close to that wonder in soil, animals, seasons and stars - if we are willing to lift our heads and notice.
The Church has a crucial role to play. Many in our congregations have lived through war, austerity and upheaval. We know something about resilience. Yet we must ask hard questions: are we places of sanctuary? Are we ready to hold fear and anxiety without judgement? Can we help communities prepare spiritually and practically for the shocks that may come?
Foot and Mouth must be remembered honestly. If it returns, and it may, I fear our response will again be reactive rather than prepared. Faith calls us to do better: to listen deeply, to advocate courageously, and to build resilient, compassionate communities rooted in hope.
Related article: Nature security assessment on global biodiversity loss, ecosystem collapse and national security - GOV.UK