Over the past several weeks I have been drawn to Madison for a variety of reasons. My dairy farm is an easy 45 minute drive south of the capital city, which means Madison has been a convenient urban reprieve from farm life since I first obtained my drivers license. Lately, I’ve made the drive more than I care to admit.

My, how perceptions have changed over the course of one generation. It seems as though just yesterday a dairy farming friend and I were grabbing beers at State Street Brats — an institutional hangout on State Street, and a short walk from the Terrace at Memorial Union. Twenty years ago we could both pass as recent college graduates, because we were. At that time, to mention in public that you were a dairy farmer drew respectful acknowledgment from a grateful crowd. Total strangers might thank you for your service, as though being engaged in dairy agriculture was akin to military service. And yeah — as we discovered, the girls loved it.

Fast forward to autumn, 2023. I am sitting at a traffic light, waiting for it to turn green. A Madison public transit bus roars across the intersection, bouncing on its suspension as it passes through. On the side of the bus is an enormous, full-length color banner. On the banner is a Holstein dairy cow, standing protectively over a newborn calf. In big bold letters, “Not your Mom, Not your Milk! Go Vegan.”

Also recently, I attended a comedy show as part of a group outing in downtown Madison. There were two headliners, both from the east coast and nationally recognized. The first act opened, and the comedian bounded onto stage. His opening bits were dedicated to making fun of World Dairy Expo, which had just concluded at the Alliant Energy Center. Jokes about cows, the people that milk them, and the effect milk and cheese has on your various bodily functions flowed effortlessly, and drew raucous laughter from the crowd. The second headliner added bits about dating to the mix. As both comedians worked the crowd, I simultaneously hoped they would pick me out, and was grateful when they didn’t. And don’t get me wrong — the comedians were skilled, and put on an excellent show, albeit partly at the expense of my life’s work.

I ask again, why is the Wisconsin Dairy Industry such a laughing stock?

On yet another recent trip to Madison, I attended World Dairy Expo. Our farm entered a fall yearling heifer calf for competition, and as always I was interested to walk the grounds to partake in the Madison-based international celebration of dairy agriculture.

All I can say is, wow — what an impressive display of technological achievement. To be a dairy farmer today is nothing like it was 20 years ago. Booth after booth advertised robotic technology and automation. Modern dairy farms can sort, perform cursory examinations, milk, and overall manage entire groupings of cattle with little or no human interaction at all. Why, you can “manage” your entire dairy herd from the palm of your hand.

There are robots that exist solely for the purpose of pushing feed to cows in large-scale dairy operations. Surely by coincidence, they bear an eerily similar resemblance to the Daleks of Dr. Who, and cost as much as a college tuition.

Right on queue, Dairy Farmers of Wisconsin, the premier dairy advocacy group, proudly displayed how mandated checkoff dollars are working hard to open up cheese markets overseas, which of course helps Wisconsin-based farmers, doesn’t it? The irony, is that meanwhile domestically, veganism continues to grow at an exponential rate, to where currently, twice as many Americans identify as vegan, as there are farmers. And growing.

We have reached a unique point in human history where technological advancement no longer supplements good management, but rather, technological advancement has replaced good management. There is a strikingly dystopian feel to the robotics of modern-day animal agriculture, and there should be no doubt whatsoever the very automation that is being celebrated, is actually responsible for fueling the public rejection of dairy farming. Put another way, the popularity of veganism is as much a reaction to the industrialization of animal agriculture than it is anything else.

The Wisconsin Dairy Industry has become a laughing stock, because the jokes write themselves:

Welcome to Wisconsin, America’s Dairyland; The Dairy State, where it is easier for you to buy raw fish sushi, than it is for me to sell you milk, but hey — at least we’re selling Wisconsin cheese to Dubai.

I will tell you the future of farming. Imagine a group of people all standing around a robotic milker that just broke down. They are standing there with their hands in their pockets, waiting on parts that are not available, and waiting on service that never shows up. The joke is, not a single one of them knows how to milk a cow.

And hey, for all the technological prowess on display at agricultural trade shows, we still use the image of the little red barn, with cows out on grass, and the happy farmer wearing bib overalls to market food to consumers — even though we’ve killed that farmer, stole his cows, and burned the red barn to the ground.

Thank you, thank you — you’ve been a great crowd. I’m here all night.

— Dan Wegmueller is the owner of Wegmueller Farms and his column appears regularly in the Times. His website is https://www.farmforthought.org.