What Rural Nebraska Is Losing
NOTE: Before he left, our previous intern provided a blog post based on a paper he’d written for school, discussing the challenges of big cities (especially Omaha) in our state. For his inaugural post, our current intern, Ethan Roth, has provided a colorful discussion of some of the challenges in rural Nebraska below, based on some writing he did during the last school year. Both of these articles touch on some work we’re doing this summer on Nebraska’s demographic landscape, as we search for ways to grow both our rural and urban areas. Our interns have been exceptional! Enjoy!
Behind the barn lay the dead baby goat, its coat moist from the morning dew and blanketed with flies. We had been searching for him since the hour he disappeared two days prior. As I dug through the bowels of the dusty workshop for a shovel, I resented the grim duty awaiting me outside: the burial of a dead goat.
Blinded by the bright rising sun, I rounded the corner of the barn and followed my nose toward the putrid stench of the poor goat’s carcass. The shovel slid easily under the stiff corpse. With each step up the hill toward the cow pasture, the goat and I commanded a more frightening swarm of hungry, buzzing enemies. Finally, I dropped my lord of the flies in the tall, wet grass and dug its grave at the highest point in the pasture. Soon, my lifeless friend stared back at me from the bottom of the hole I had carved in the Nebraska dirt.
Pausing to catch my breath, I gazed down at the vast, golden fields of corn, soybeans, and pastureland sprawling westward beneath me. Turning toward the brilliant eastern sunlight, I heard the faint whirr of an excavator only a few miles away at Elkhorn’s newest suburban subdivision, where winding streets pave the way to half-acre lots and 5,000 square foot homes. In no more than a decade, I realized, my goat may be gazing up at a Walmart parking lot, a youth baseball complex, or a hip apartment building for singles.
Though I didn’t expect to unearth my life’s purpose by burying this goat, I still consider the allegorical implications of that impromptu funeral years later. A farmer’s business model is driven not only by quarterly returns but also by a profound sense of commitment to our hungry world and the future generations of his or her family. As Willa Cather wrote, Nebraska is “nothing but land: not a country at all, but the material out of which countries are made.” My family and neighbors work hard today for the benefit of the land tomorrow, ensuring its continued health and productivity. These are people like my grandfather, who at age 81 still digs yucca weeds out of his fields, or a fellow farmhand who worked a full day after being pinned against a fence and kicked by a cow, breaking his fibula. These heroes are the reason rural Nebraska remains a vital component of the American agricultural backbone.
Because of American innovation and investment in science and technology, farming productivity has increased dramatically. There is reason to believe in the lasting strength of Nebraska’s agricultural sector as innovation continues to progress. Rates of return on the operating side between 2-5% are not flashy, but are historically steady in the long run. Innovation, entrepreneurship, and the work ethic of individuals have made Nebraska into a global agricultural powerhouse. If Nebraska were an independent nation, it would rank third in the world for ethanol production, fourth in the world for corn production, and in the top fifteen for beef export value.
However, farmers and small communities here are increasingly burdened by the mass migration to urban centers like Des Moines, Denver, Dallas, and beyond. According to U.S. Census Bureau data, nearly 60% of counties in Nebraska from 2020 to 2024 experienced net population loss. As of 2020, almost 62% of the population lived in just five counties in Nebraska (Douglas, Lancaster, Sarpy, Hall, and Buffalo). Compare this to 1900, when a higher proportion of residents lived in rural counties than metropolitan counties. As younger generations depart rural Nebraska in search of higher paying jobs or broader career opportunities, hollowed-out towns and an aging rural population face a more uncertain future each year.
The Great Wealth Transfer has begun, and many of Nebraska’s baby-boomer landowners find themselves without an heir willing to continue the family’s farming operations. According to the 2022 USDA Census of Agriculture, 37% of Nebraska’s ag producers are aged 65 and older. Many have no succession plan. Many of those who do are left to navigate the difficult process of transferring their land to institutional investors or out-of-state and foreign corporations: owners who will never understand the often multi-generational legacy and identity of the land. These new corporate owners naturally perceive the land’s value through a different lens, focusing primarily on tangible market factors rather than sentimental or historical ties to the land. They will have never felt, smelled, and tasted the Nebraska soil at each stop of a train, as my grandmother claims was the practice of her immigrant German ancestors when deciding where to stake their family’s roots.
The generational identity of rural areas manifests practically in the tacit knowledge required to succeed in agriculture. The combination of youth outmigration and the aging and passing of seasoned farmers and landowners breaks longstanding pipelines of mentorship. Decades of localized environmental and operational wisdom are jeopardized by the loss of this generational pattern. A corporate farm manager may know the chemistry of the soil from a lab report, but they may not have the intuition to realize that the bottom-forty acres will flood for three days every time a heavy spring melt hits the northern creek, or know how to read the unique temperament of a specific herd of cattle during a blizzard.
The migration of younger generations and consolidation of land are not random tragedies. Rather, they are the result of real forces. While no individual can completely conceptualize and explain every reason why this outmigration is occurring, economic logic can provide valuable insights into the causes and implications.
The sale or inheritance of farmland is a significant financial event, often at a time of family crisis, with many complicated tax implications. Nebraska is one of five states that levies an inheritance tax. Its continued existence presents a hurdle to Nebraskans who desire to leave their land to the next generation. Additionally, regulatory red tape presents a disincentive to those who wish to live in rural Nebraska yet find they must jump through the hoops of occupational licensing requirements before they can practice a skilled trade or start a business.
Many here in Nebraska, like myself, embrace free-market principles, believing that state oversight is not necessary for individuals to build and allocate wealth effectively. At the same time, we mourn the slow erosion of small communities and the quiet withering of the rural culture so integral to the Good Life. While most solutions are not immediately cut and dried, we believe that they do, in fact, exist. The Platte Institute is committed to easing barriers to growth and opportunity for rural individuals, freeing them to flourish and thrive here at home in Nebraska.