Ayurella Horn-Muller, Grist

Early in the morning on July 4th, as torrential rains battered Central Texas, the dangers of flash floods became imminent. In Kerr County, the Guadalupe River rose 26 feet within 45 minutes, leading to the deaths of 106 people. As the catastrophic deluge swept throughout the region, the death toll climbed to at least 132.

Later that day, President Donald Trump signed the One Big Beautiful Bill Act into law. The law gutted public food and healthcare safety nets, including the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program and Medicaid, while also codifying massive tax breaks for wealthier individuals and major corporations. The devastation in Texas, then, became the first major disaster to expose the grave effects of Trump’s extensive disinvestment from disaster resilience programs — and his administration’s newest food and hunger policies.

Charitable groups such as food banks and pantries typically serve as frontline distributors of food and water in a time of crisis, working in tandem with other responding national and global relief organizations and government agencies. Now, though, because of the policy and funding decisions enacted by the Trump administration over the last six months, the primary food banks that are responding to the needs of residents throughout central Texas have less food to distribute.

Near the beginning of Trump’s second term, the Department of Agriculture stopped the flow of some of the money that pays for deliveries of products like meats, eggs, and vegetables known as “bonus commodities” through The Emergency Food Assistance Program, or TEFAP, to charitable organizations like food banks. TEFAP is one of the primary ways that state and federal governments have ensured food reaches communities in need in the aftermath of climate-fueled disasters like a hurricane or heatwave.

In March, the USDA also moved to end future rounds of funding for the Local Food Purchase Assistance Cooperative Agreement Program and the Local Food for Schools Cooperative Agreement Program. These two programs, which are also designed to support emergency food providers such as food banks, were slated to distribute more than a billion dollars this fiscal year to states, tribes, and territories.

In April, the funding cuts drove the Central Texas Food Bank to cancel 39 loads of food — the equivalent of 716,000 meals — scheduled to be delivered through September, said Beth Corbett, the organization’s vice president of government affairs and advocacy. The state of Texas lost more than $107 million for programs that allowed food banks and schools to buy food locally because of the administration’s funding cuts, the Austin Monitor and KUT reported. The San Antonio Food Bank also endured similar losses to its inventory.

San Antonio Food Bank’s president and CEO, Eric Cooper, told Grist he is consumed by concern that they may not be able to meet the emergency food demand prompted by the flooding tragedy in central Texas.

“Prior to this disaster, we just don’t have the volume of food in our warehouse that we need to have,” said Cooper, noting that they are “struggling to keep up” with the demand intensified by the deluge. “We have had to try to pivot a little bit to ration some of what we do have across the population we serve so that we can stretch [our supply],” he added. “USDA cuts have made it harder to keep up. The flood will make it even more difficult. Pending SNAP cuts feel like it will be impossible.”

Over a week after the floods, more than 160 people remain unaccounted for, and on Sunday another round of heavy rains halted some rescue efforts. The food bank, which has pantries and distribution sites throughout 29 Texan counties, is now acting as the central community-based anti-hunger hub serving some of the hardest-hit swaths of Hill Country. Throughout the last week, the bank distributed more than 160,000 pounds of food relief to households in affected counties — an amalgamation of heated and ready-to-eat meals, groceries, pallets of water, and snacks, that equates roughly $300,000 in value and provides up to 120,000 meals. In the period of recovery to come, they expect to distribute another 40,000 pounds or so worth of food every day, an amount which feeds anywhere between 300 and 500 families.

That volume, according to Cooper, is far more than the bank normally distributes. They are already seeing a 10 percent increase in demand — a rapid uptick in the span of a little over a week. “We’re doing what we can to make sure that people don’t go hungry, but it has been tough,” he said. The biggest problem they are running up against, he noted, is how federal funding cuts have obstructed their ability to fully respond.

“I feel like the parent whose child asked what’s for dinner tonight, and not knowing, not able to totally confirm, that I’ve got it.”

With more than 5 million residents facing food insecurity, 17.6 percent of the state’s total population, Texas leads the rest of the nation in hunger rates. The region struck by floods is no exception. Among the six Hill Country counties most severely affected by the floods is Tom Green County, home to 120,000 or so residents. Preliminary estimates by Feeding America show that, based on location trends and new individuals registering for San Antonio Food Bank distributions, about 1,872 people in the area are now at further risk of hunger because of the expected economic impacts of the floods. About 20,080 residents living in Tom Green already confront food insecurity — nearly 17 percent of the population.

But most of the destruction wrought by the floods was seen across neighboring Kerr County, where about 9,310 people already grapple with food insecurity, according to the latest public Feeding America data. With a total population of little more than 53,000 people, the towns found in this rural belt of south-central Texas include places like Hunt, an unincorporated community on the Guadalupe River, with a permanent population that sits at around 1,300. Roughly 876 residents in Hunt — more than half — now face a deeper food insecurity risk because of the floods, according to the Feeding America data shared with Grist.

Hunger typically intensifies in disaster zones because of the lasting economic repercussions of an extreme weather event. Poverty rates — and issues with food access — surge in areas significantly impacted by floods and storms because many Americans are less able to afford the mounting costs needed to best prepare for a disaster or recover from the damages they wreak.

In the last week, the USDA has issued flood-related waivers for households already enrolled in SNAP but not yet announced broader food assistance through programs like D-SNAP, or the Disaster Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program. In flood-ravaged places like Hunt, humanitarian organizations are stepping in to provide assistance where the government isn’t.

The World Central Kitchen set up its main distribution site in Hunt. Their on-the-ground team of ten has handed out over 12,100 meals throughout Hill Country and has begun coordinating with local food banks to assess their longer-term resource needs.

“There is an influx of aid here because of this national tragedy,” said Samantha Elfmont, who leads emergency global food relief operations for World Central Kitchen. “We’re in that period now of ‘How do we support the community much longer than the month of July?’”

The latest round of torrential rainfall has complicated those efforts: Over the weekend, the Hunt site was flooded, so they are now also working to evacuate the team and food truck.

Getting a hot meal to those reeling from the floods is important for not just physical recovery from a disaster, but also for the emotional recovery process, said Elfmont. “People often think of health and shelter,” she said, but “emergency feeding helps people get through the trauma.”

Grist has a comprehensive guide to help you stay ready and informed before, during, and after a disaster.

• Explore the full Disaster 101 resource guide for more on your rights and options when disaster hits.

• Are you affected by the flooding in Texas and North Carolina? Learn how to navigate disaster relief and response.

• Get prepared. Learn how to be ready for a disaster before you’re affected.

This article originally appeared in Grist at https://grist.org/food-and-agriculture/texas-food-banks-flood-survivors-trump-funding-cuts/.

Grist is a nonprofit, independent media organization dedicated to telling stories of climate solutions and a just future. Learn more at Grist.org

Thomasville, Georgia, has a water problem. Its treatment system is far out of date, posing serious health and environmental risks.

“We have wastewater infrastructure that is old,” said Sheryl Sealy, the assistant city manager for this city of 18,881 near the Florida border, about 45 minutes from Tallahassee. “It’s critical that we do the work to replace this.”

But it’s expensive to replace. The system is especially bad in underserved parts of the city, Sealy said.

In September, Thomasville applied to get some help from the federal government, and just under four months later, the city and its partners were awarded a nearly $20 million Community Change grant from the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency to make the long-overdue wastewater improvements, build a resilience hub and health clinic, and upgrade homes in several historic neighborhoods.

“The grant itself was really a godsend for us,” Sealy said.

In early April, as the EPA canceled grants for similar projects across the country, federal officials assured Thomasville that their funding was on track. Then on May 1, the city received a termination notice.

“We felt, you know, a little taken off guard when the bottom did let out for us,” said Sealy.

Thomasville isn’t alone.

Under the Trump administration, the EPA has canceled or interrupted hundreds of grants aimed at improving health and severe weather preparedness because the agency “determined that the grant applications no longer support administration priorities,” according to an emailed statement to Grist.

The cuts are part of a broader gutting of federal programs aimed at furthering environmental justice, an umbrella term for the effort to help communities that have been hardest hit by pollution and other environmental issues, which often include low-income communities and communities of color.

In Thomasville’s case, the city has a history of heavy industry that has led to poor air quality. Air pollution, health concerns, and high poverty qualified the surrounding county for the Biden administration’s Justice40 initiative, which prioritized funding for disadvantaged communities. Thomasville has some of the highest exposure risks in Georgia to toxic air pollutants that can cause respiratory, reproductive, and developmental health problems, according to the Environmental Defense Fund’s Climate Vulnerability Index. The city’s wastewater woes don’t only mean the potential for sewage backups in homes and spills into local waterways but also the risk of upper respiratory problems, according to Zealan Hoover, a former Biden administration EPA official who is now advising the advocacy groups Environmental Protection Network and Lawyers for Good Government.

“These projects were selected because they have a really clear path to alleviating the health challenges facing this community,” he said.

Critics argue there’s a disconnect between the Trump administration’s attack on the concept of environmental justice and the realities of what the funds are paying for.

“What is it about building a new health clinic and upgrading wastewater infrastructure … that’s inconsistent with administration policy?” Democratic Georgia Senator Jon Ossoff asked EPA Administrator Lee Zeldin at a recent hearing.

Zeldin repeatedly responded by discussing the agency’s review process intended to comply with President Donald Trump’s executive orders, particularly those related to diversity, equity, and inclusion policies, but Ossoff cut him off, pushing for a specific answer about Thomasville’s grant. “Is a new health clinic for Thomasville, Georgia, woke?” he asked.

Thomasville’s Sealy said she understands that the federal government has to make hard funding decisions — that’s true locally too — but losing this grant has left her city in the lurch. In addition to the planned work on the wastewater collection system, the city needs to update its treatment plant to meet EPA standards. That overhaul will likely cost $60 million to $70 million, she said.

“How do you fund that?” Sealy asked. “You can’t fund that on the backs of the people who pay our rates.”

The funding cuts have left cities across Georgia — including Athens, Norcross, and Savannah — as well as nonprofit groups, in a state of uncertainty: some grants terminated, some suspended then reinstated, some still unclear. This puts city officials in an impossible position, unable to wait or to move forward, according to Athens-Clarke County Sustainability Director Mike Wharton.

“Do you commit to new programs? Do you commit to services?” he said. “Here you are sitting in limbo for months.”

Like Thomasville, Athens was also awarded a nearly $20 million Community Change grant. The city was going to use the money for backup generators, solar power, and battery storage at its public safety complex — ensuring 911, police, the jail, a domestic violence shelter, and other services could all operate during a power outage. That grant has been terminated.

The problem, Wharton said, goes beyond that money not coming in; the city had already spent time, resources, and money to get the grant.

“We spent $60,000 in local funding hiring people to write the grants,” he said. “Over a period of 14 months we invested over 700 hours of local personnel time. So we diverted our services to focus on these things.”

These frustrations are playing out for grant recipients throughout the state and country, according to Hoover. He said it’s not just confusing — it’s expensive.

“They are causing project costs to skyrocket because they keep freezing and unfreezing and refreezing projects,” he said. “One of the big drivers of cost overruns in any infrastructure project, public or private, is having to demobilize and remobilize your teams.”

Thomasville and Athens officials both said they’re appealing their grant terminations, which require them to submit a formal letter outlining the reasons for their appeal and requesting the agency reconsider the decision. They’re also reaching out to their elected officials, hoping that pressure from their senators and members of Congress can get them the federal money they were promised.

Other cities and nonprofits, as well as a group of Democratic state attorneys general, have sued, arguing that terminating their grants without following proper procedures is illegal. But that’s a difficult step for many localities to take.

“Suing the federal government to assert your legal rights is very daunting, even if the law is on your side,” Hoover said.

Early in the morning last Monday, a group of third graders huddled in the garden of Mendota Elementary School in Madison, Wisconsin. Of the dozen students present, a handful were busy filling up buckets of compost, others were readying soil beds for spring planting, while a number carefully watered freshly planted radishes and peas. The students were all busy with their assorted tasks until a gleeful shout rang across the space. Everything ground to a halt when a beaming boy triumphantly raised his gloved hand, displaying a gaggle of worms. The group of riveted eight- and nine-year-olds dropped everything to cluster around him and the writhing mass of invertebrates.

“They’re mending the soil one week, and then the next week they’re going to start to see these little seedlings pop through the soil, because they’re healthy and they’re happy and they have sunshine, and they’ve watered them,” said Erica Krug, farm-to-school director at Rooted, a Wisconsin nonprofit community agricultural organization that helps oversee the garden.

Krug stopped by the school that day to join the class, which her team runs together with AmeriCorps. Outdoor programming like this, said Krug, positions students to learn how to grow food — and take care of the planet that bears it.

First established some 25 years ago, in a historically underserved area that has long struggled with access to healthy food, the small but thriving garden is now a mainstay in the Mendota curriculum. The produce grown there is routinely collected and taken to local food pantries. Later this spring, the third grade class plans to plant watermelon and pumpkin seeds. Come summer, the garden will open to the surrounding community to harvest crops like garlic, tomatoes, zucchini, collards, and squash, and take home what they need.

Farm-to-school work, said Krug, isn’t limited to partnering with farmers to get locally grown foods into school meals, but also includes supporting schools in lower-income neighborhoods with working gardens, and providing students with agricultural and health education they won’t get otherwise. That can take the shape of after-school gardening clubs, field trips to local farms, and cooking classes. “We want kids to understand where their food comes from. We want them to be able to have that experience of growing their own food,” she said. “It’s really, really powerful.”

Back in January, the Rooted team applied for a $100,000 two-year grant through the Department of Agriculture’s Patrick Leahy Farm to School program, intended to provide public schools with locally produced fresh vegetables as well as food and agricultural education. Rooted had plans to “use a huge chunk of those funds” to continue supporting school garden activities and food programming at three local schools, including Mendota.

Then, late last month, the United States Department of Agriculture, or USDA, sent them an email announcing the cancellation of funding for grants through the program. The email, shared with Grist, noted that the cancellation is “in alignment with President Donald Trump’s executive order ‘Ending Radical and Wasteful Government and DEI Programs and Preferencing.’”

The loss of the funds is “so upsetting,” said Krug, and the reasoning provided, she continued, is “ridiculous.”

“When they talk about ‘Make America Healthy Again,’” Krug argued, “they don’t mean everybody. Because if they’re saying that they’re canceling this program because it’s ‘radical’ and ‘wasteful’ and ‘DEI,’ then that means that they don’t want non-white kids having access to fruits and vegetables.”

Scenarios like these are playing out across the nation as the USDA, working with the initiative known as the Department of Government Efficiency, continues to cancel funding for multiple food and farm programs. Five USDA programs have had their funding pulled since President Trump’s inauguration, while at least 21 others remain frozen.

Last month, the agency terminated some $1.13 billion slated to be distributed through the Local Food Purchase Assistance Program and Local Food for Schools Cooperative Agreement Program. The move has had a resounding impact on the livelihoods of thousands of people, as charitable organizations have shuttered food donations, regional food hubs cut staff, and small farmers have gone bankrupt. The cancellation of this year’s farm-to-school funding was announced roughly two weeks after the USDA ended the billion-dollar funding stream.

In prior years, Krug said, “we were being asked ‘What are you doing to address equity? To address diversity? How are you making sure your project is for everyone?’ And now we’re going to be penalized for talking about that.”

The team at Rooted is now working overtime to find other funding sources to continue the work, including hosting a fundraising drive and benefit concert next month at their urban farm site. Krug hopes the proceeds will help offset some of the loss. “We’re not ready to say, without this funding, that we’re going to abandon this program, because we believe so strongly in it,” she said.

First established by the Healthy, Hunger-Free Kids Act, passed in 2010, the Patrick Leahy Farm to School program was created by the Obama administration to address rising hunger and nutritional needs in public schools. The program has since awarded over $100 million in grants to schools that support millions of students in tribal, rural, and urban communities nationwide.

Nutrition advocates and legislators are calling the USDA’s decision to cancel the farm-to-school funding contradictory to the stated goals of the Trump administration’s Make America Healthy Again commission. Many see it as a sign that the government is dismantling local food systems — hurting people and the planet. The fallout, experts say, will be gradual, but no less devastating.

Advocates are also questioning whether it’s legal.

“This program is authorized. It’s a direction from Congress for USDA to carry it out. So carrying it out is not optional,” said Karen Spangler, policy director of the nonprofit National Farm to School Network, which advocated for the program.

From its inception, the program has had a $5 million baseline allocation every year that the legislation mandates, and lawmakers have the ability to add discretionary funds. A total of $10 million was allocated to it for this fiscal year.

To some policymakers, watching as the USDA revoked the funding came as a shock. A letter penned by federal lawmakers on April 4 urged Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins to clarify why the administration “abruptly” cancelled the grants. The letter, spearheaded by longtime anti-hunger advocate Representative James McGovern of Massachusetts, and signed by 37 other House Democrats, also asked Rollins to explain the scope of the cancellation and to clarify “the authority” the agency is using to terminate funding, “given that Congress directed USDA to carry out this program.”

Though an April 11 deadline for response was given, McGovern told Grist that, as of the time of this story’s publication, they have not received an answer.

“The Trump Administration is slashing programs that help support our farmers and provide people in communities across the country with better access to local food. It’s pathetic,” said McGovern, who is also a senior member of the House Agriculture Committee. “Termination of these programs has caused tremendous uncertainty for schools, food banks and pantries, farmers, and hardworking families.”

Grist reviewed the official notice shared with grantees and applicants from the USDA’s Food and Nutrition Service, which stated that the agency will not review applications, nor will it award grants this year. The agency did, however, note that it was “making plans for an improved competition funding opportunity.”

In an email, a USDA spokesperson told Grist that, in alignment with Trump’s executive order, the agency had “paused” this year’s Patrick Leahy Farm to School Program competition, and is now “revising the application” for the next fiscal year.

“Secretary Rollins and the Food and Nutrition Service are committed to creating new and greater opportunities to connect America’s farmers to nutrition assistance programs and Farm to School is a critical component of this work,” the spokesperson added. They also noted that the “updated” application will provide “opportunities to support bold innovations in farm to school that encourage more applicants and better impacts, which reflect the realities of the intent and tremendous progress in farm to school made by states and communities over the past 15 years.”

The USDA did not address Grist’s requests for clarification about the authority the agency is using to withhold the money, and did not clarify when or how it plans to award it.

Sophia Kruszewski, a lawyer and deputy policy director at the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition, explained that the USDA may technically have the legal authority to cancel this year’s grants through the program. In both the underlying statute and the appropriations text, there is language indicating that the funding for this program is to be “available until expended,” which, in most cases, gives the agency the ability to roll over unobligated funding from year to year.

But Kruszewski isn’t convinced the move is in line with the spirit of the law. “It seems highly doubtful that Congress intended to give the agency carte blanche to simply choose not to spend any of the money directed toward the program,” said Kruszewski, “particularly when the call for proposals has already happened and applicants have spent significant time developing and submitting proposals.”

All the while, Rollins has publicly championed the president’s national nutrition overhaul. Earlier this month, the agriculture secretary joined Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. at an elementary school in Alexandria, Virginia. The two spoke to students, staff, and onlookers about the importance of advancing nutrition in public schools. The event took place a little more than a week after the cancellation of the farm-to-school funding.

“Secretary Kennedy and I have a unique once-in-a-generation opportunity to better align our vision on nutrition-related programs to ensure we are working together to advance President Trump’s vision to make our kids, our families, and our communities healthy again,” said Secretary Rollins in a press release. “Our farmers, ranchers, and producers dedicate their lives to growing the safest most abundant food supply in the world and we need to make sure our kids and families are consuming the healthiest food we produce. There is a chronic health problem in our country, and American agriculture is at the core of the solution.”

Kennedy, for his part, championed the end of ultra-processed foods in public schools and tightening nutrition program restrictions. During the visit, Rollins underscored how the USDA should be supporting “moving farm-fresh produce, as much as is possible, into the schools.”

Katie Wilson, former Obama administration USDA Deputy Under Secretary of Food, Nutrition, and Consumer Services, and executive director of the Urban School Food Alliance, argues that the event, and the USDA’s bigger MAHA campaign, are nothing more than a “facade” to distract from the agency’s subtler efforts to do the opposite. “Having these little kids around you — it’s a camera opp. So that’s the distraction, while I’m over here slicing and dicing the program, right?” Wilson said. “Just remember this funding was for unprocessed, local, fresh food, and so it’s about as healthy and as wonderful as it can get.”

As for Rollins’ stated goal to bring more local food into schools, Wilson only sees more contradictions. “We’ve been doing that, but you just took the rug completely out from under us,” she said. For larger school districts, planning for budgets, programs, and things like meals runs typically a year out. The loss of the farm-to-school grant and uncertainty about the future of the program means that schools across the country are now scrambling to find money, said Wilson. “Contracts don’t go away just because your funding got cut. Where does that money come from? Do you raise the price of school meals for kids? I mean, what do you do? Do you cut staff?”

For decades, advocates and policymakers have looked to strengthen local food systems as a plausible solution to rising hunger rates. Localized food systems have also been championed as a climate solution.

The climate footprint of transportation in the food supply chain, or the movement of crops, livestock, and machinery, contributes considerably to global agricultural emissions. Long-distance shipping of perishable fruit and vegetables in particular ramps up the amount of CO2 emissions generated. The same goes for emissions-intensive food waste: The longer the supply chain, the larger the proportion of food typically lost or thrown away.

According to Jenique Jones, executive director at global nonprofit WhyHunger, small and regional producers are not only much less of a strain on the planet, but they also address systemic issues caused by the “monopoly” that a handful of national producers have on America’s food supply. Localized food systems allow for small farmers to be paid fair wages, she said, and healthier, better quality food to be made accessible to their communities.

The gutting of grants through this program, along with other recent funding decisions by the USDA, signals to Jones that the administration is intentionally dismantling local food systems — which she believes will bring in big costs. The legislation that underwrote the Leahy program, for one, mandated that the agency prioritize geographic diversity and equitable distribution among tribal, rural, and urban communities. Between 2013 and 2024, roughly one in every 20 farm-to-school projects supported Native communities.

These cuts show the administration’s priority, she said, which is “definitely not local food systems, and more importantly than that, it’s not people.”

Among those that may feel some of the harshest burdens from the loss of farm-to-school funding are communities in lower-income, rural swaths of America. One such place is just outside of Bolivar County, in the heart of the Mississippi River Delta, where Sydney Bush has to travel 20 or so miles just to buy fresh vegetables. The closest grocery store is a 40-minute drive from her house.

Bush works in food justice with the nonprofit Mississippi Farm to School network. Early this year, in partnership with the Cleveland School District, the organization submitted an application for almost $50,000 in a farm-to-school grant. That money would have been used to launch a pilot project to establish procurement plans between regional farmers growing fresh food and the district’s 10 local schools. It would have supported more than 2,800 students.

The cancellation of the funding pot, a crucial lever in achieving truly local food sovereignty and remedying nutrition inequity across America’s resource-strapped rural communities, said Bush “isn’t just about this pilot not happening, it’s about what comes after.” Without it, groups like hers will have to work twice as hard to fill in the gaps. “Food is power,” she said. “There are folks in this country that don’t have the same access to nutrition as everyone else. It’s a systemic problem.”

Now, because of the rescinded grant, that dream of a localized food chain, the culmination of work that started in 2020, appears to be over before it even began.

As Earth heats up, the growing frequency and intensity of disasters like catastrophic storms and heat waves are becoming a mounting problem for the people who grow the planet’s food. Warming is no longer solely eroding agricultural productivity and food security in distant nations or arid climates. It’s throttling production in the United States.

Farmers and ranchers across the country lost at least $20.3 billion in crops and rangeland to extreme weather last year, according to a new Farm Bureau report that crowned the 2024 hurricane season “one of the most destructive in U.S. history” and outlined a long list of other climate-fueled impacts.

Texas experienced the highest losses for the third year in a row. Extreme drought, excessive heat, and high winds took out more than $3.4 billion worth of crops like cotton and wheat, and damaged rangeland. Flooding cost Minnesota some $1.45 billion in corn, soybeans, and forage, among other crops. California endured nearly all the same weather challenges as the south-central U.S. and the upper Midwest, costing its agricultural sector $1.4 billion.

And then there was the one-two punch of hurricanes Helene and Milton that tore through the Southeast. Georgia’s agricultural sector sustained over $459 million in losses as Helene wiped out crops like peanuts, pecans, and cotton. The same storm destroyed some $174 million worth of tobacco, blueberries, and apples in North Carolina. Florida’s ag industry lost nearly twice that to the two hurricanes, adding to the problems pummeling citrus production, all of them caused by previous storms, water scarcity, and disease.

Those tallies are but a snapshot of the economic impact of last year’s disasters on U.S. farm production, as they only account for damages wrought by major weather events such as billion-dollar disasters. They also don’t figure in most livestock or infrastructure losses following Helene and Milton, which significantly hike up total agricultural economic impacts for states like Georgia and Florida.

By the end of the year, farmers from coast to coast were left with diminished income, unpaid bills, and little recourse. Those financial stressors were compounded by inflation, surging labor and production costs, disruptions to global supply and demand, and increased price volatility. So in December, Congress authorized nearly $31 billion in emergency assistance to help struggling producers.

Last week, the USDA opened those disaster aid applications and said it was expediting disbursements. But there’s a catch: The funding pot the agency is gearing up to distribute makes up just a third of the assistance Congress approved.

That $10 billion is intended for farmers growing traditional commodities, such as corn, cotton, and soybeans, and is available to those who experienced most any kind of loss, not just those stemming from extreme weather. Payouts are determined by multiplying a flat commodity rate, based on calculated economic loss, with acres planted. It significantly limits eligibility, said Billy Hackett, policy analyst at the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition, and funnels help away from smaller farmers into the pockets of industrial-scale operations. Fewer than 6 percent of U.S. farms sold more than three-fourths of all agricultural products between 2017 and 2022. “[The program] works exceedingly well for the largest farms, but leaves behind smaller farms,” said Hackett.

The USDA has not yet said when or how the remaining $21 billion will be distributed. That funding was, in fact, allocated for producers impacted by weather-related disasters in 2023 and 2024. But unlike the package structured for commodity growers, which had a 90-day timeline for implementation, Hackett noted that the USDA doesn’t necessarily have to act quickly on it. The American Relief Act that authorized the funding gives the USDA 120 days to begin reporting on its implementation progress, but no hard deadline for actually disbursing money. That means the $21 billion program isn’t on the same ticking congressional clock.

Ultimately, lawmakers did not provide clear reasoning for why they split the pot and crafted different disbursement mechanisms, with one measure of relief pushed through over the other. Hackett noted that it could be a reflection of who policymakers in Washington are hearing from most: “Who is the loudest? Who has the most meetings? It doesn’t always reflect who is in the most need.”

That lack of a deadline also doesn’t mean the agency shouldn’t move quickly, said Hackett. The $21 billion program is primed to help many more farmers, he said, particularly those that are underserved and passed over by other federal programs such as crop insurance. Farms without crop insurance tend to be small and medium-sized, while the bulk of larger farms have coverage. Speciality crop farms — those producing fruits, vegetables, nuts, horticulture, and nursery crops — are also less likely to be covered than those that produce commodities. Just 15 percent were insured in 2022, compared to nearly two-thirds of oilseed and grain farms.

Hackett worries that the application process may end up being unduly demanding or complicated, and that small or uninsured operators and historically excluded farmers that have faced issues with federal disaster relief eligibility and coverage in the past will be shut out. That has been the case with previous supplemental disaster relief programs, including the Wildfire, Hurricane, and Indemnity Program enacted in 2017 under the first Trump administration.

In a briefing last week, Brooke Appleton, the deputy undersecretary for farm production and conservation, told reporters that more information on the $21 billion program should be “coming soon.” This followed remarks Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins made late last month when she noted the agency would hit the congressional deadline of March 21 for sending out the full $31 billion — despite that deadline not applying to two-thirds of the money. The USDA did not respond to Grist’s request for comment.

Meanwhile, farmers like Daniel Spatz are left wondering what’s next. Last spring, he lost roughly $20,000 because “intense” rain waterlogged his central Arkansas fields, leaving him unable to plant 70 acres of rice. The year before, a prolonged drought cost him much more. Spatz is among the 13 percent or so of farmers with crop insurance, but recouped no more than $2,000 after the heavy rains. He’s unsure if he’s eligible for this disaster aid program, which he sees as another sign that the Trump administration is supporting large farmers “at the expense” of small operators like himself. Above all, he’s concerned about calamities yet to come.

“It appears to me that we’re depending more and more on the government to bail us out of these climate-induced disasters,” he said. The USDA shelled out more than $16 billion to farmers from 2022 through 2024 for crops lost to extreme weather events alone. “My question to the Trump administration would be, ‘How much do we have to spend as a society, bailing out people, rebuilding and putting public funds into rescuing people, citizens? What does that price tag have to be before climate change is understood as real, and a public threat, a threat to our future?’”

Jason Myers-Benner wants answers. Most of the time, the Virginia farmer feels “unsettled” by the lack of communication and clarity surrounding the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s funding freeze. During the quieter moments he’s spent staring at an empty inbox, awaiting word about his pending grant, he’s felt “disgusted” by how the government has treated him and many of his peers.

“It’s a sort of powerlessness, that it doesn’t feel like there’s anything that I can do about it,” said Myers-Benner. “Like, can you count on these systems or not?”

Myers-Benner owns a family-run six acre farm in Keezletown, Virginia. Last spring, the USDA’s National Institute of Food and Agriculture awarded him a little more than $18,000 to support the farm’s work breeding winter peas that could increase soil’s ability to trap carbon. The grant is through the Sustainable Agriculture Research and Education program, or SARE, which has supported farmer-led research initiatives nationwide for decades. The money represented an opportunity to expand work he and his family have been bootstrapping for years, growing crops that help feed lower-income, rural communities like his while preserving the planet.

Then, in late January, the Trump administration began freezing funds for programs across a broad swath of the government. Shortly after, his SARE representative at the University of Georgia fell silent. That’s when he started to worry: Without the grant, which reimburses expenses already incurred, he would need to line up part-time work to pay the bills. “There’s just a deflated feeling of ‘Okay. We were just about getting this rolling,’” he said. “And then … one change at the top has the potential to just completely wipe that out. And so we’ll have to pick up and hard-scrabble our way through it.”

Myers-Benner finally got an answer on Monday, though one riddled in ambiguity. “You may continue your research or you are welcome to put your research on hold given the uncertainty of the situation, and once we learn more we can communicate that to you,” he was told by email, which he shared with Grist. “If this situation delays your research and outreach per your grant timeline we can offer a no-cost extension if you still have monies left in your budget. Feel free to reach out with any questions. If you decide to hold your project let us know so we can note that in your files. That’s about the best information we can provide at this time while we wait to receive further guidance from USDA.”

The USDA administers SARE through four regional offices hosted in universities. Daramonifah Cooper, a spokesperson for Southern SARE at the University of Georgia, which oversees Myers-Benner’s grant, told Grist it is holding all calls for proposals until it hears from its federal funding source. When asked, Cooper could not clarify the funding status for grants already awarded.

Since late January, the USDA has frozen, rescinded, or cancelled funding supporting everything from donations to food banks to climate-smart agricultural practices. The move aligns with the administration’s goal of rolling back diversity, equity, and inclusion mandates and climate benchmarks. These steps prompted the termination of thousands of federal employees before courts intervened, pressuring the USDA to reinstate many of them, albeit temporarily, and federal judges have repeatedly ordered the administration to release gridlocked funds. Such abrupt and sweeping moves by the agency, and wider administration, have thrown the world of publicly-funded agricultural research into a tailspin.

A USDA employee, whom Grist granted anonymity to protect them from retaliation, said “basically all” of the agency’s programs that fund agricultural research, including SARE grants, have been put on standstill due to the freeze. This person called the environment within the agency “a shitshow” and said, “It’s all really unknown right now. Even internally.”

“We know that, yeah, things have been paused. Some political appointee at some level is reviewing our calls for proposals” this person added. “We know that DOGE is in the system, reviewing, doing searches of our databases, but we don’t know like … are they going to massively cut things right now? Things are on hold. But is the shoe gonna drop, and is lots of stuff getting canceled?”

“Trump doesn’t really care about farmers or delivering services or efficiency or cost-savings. This is all politics. And we’re caught in the middle of it.”

At least 19 university labs have ceased agricultural research work because the Department of Government Efficiency dismantled the U.S. Agency for International Development in February, a move one federal judge said may be unconstitutional. These decisions by the administration have impacted research programs nationwide.

Kansas State University shut down two labs that were developing drought-resilient varieties of wheat and sorghum crops and pest-resistant plants. Johns Hopkins, the largest university recipient of federal research funding, cut roughly 2,200 jobs. USDA staffing cuts forced a federal project in Maryland investigating unprecedented managed honeybee losses to ask others to carry on its work. Seed and crop research being conducted across the nation’s network of gene banks have also been hobbled by layoffs and grant application suspensions, and grape breeding programs and work on crops affected by wildfire smoke in California have reported disruptions. The administration then announced an abrupt withdrawal of millions in federal funds for multiple universities, triggering a new round of layoffs, lab closures, and project suspensions across the country.

The federal government provides roughly 64 percent of the country’s public agricultural research and development funding. “With federal funding, especially research dollars, being on the chopping board for the current administration, the consequences of that, coupled with layoffs … means that at a time when we need innovation the most to deal with climate change, to make our food systems more resilient, that capacity is going to be lost,” said soil scientist Omanjana Goswami of the nonprofit the Union of Concerned Scientists.

There will likely be economic fallout, too. A study published March 11 finds that the compounding effects of climate change and lagging investment in research and development has U.S. agriculture facing its first productivity slowdown in decades.

The researchers modelled the eroding effects of climate change on American agriculture and the decades-long stagnation of spending for publicly funded research and development, using the estimates to quantify the research investment necessary to avoid agricultural productivity declining through 2050. To offset an imminent climate-induced productivity slowdown, federal agricultural research spending, which includes expenditures from every USDA agency except the U.S. Forest Service, and state agricultural experiment stations and schools, must replicate the unprecedented boom in public spending that followed both world wars. The government currently allocates approximately $5 billion annually to ag research and development, a figure that grew less than 1 percent annually from 1970 to 2000 before leveling off. Adding at least $2.2 billion per year to that tally would offset the climate-induced slowdown, the paper found.

If the current investment trend doesn’t change, the costly impacts of warming, including higher inputs, reduced yields, and supply chain shocks, will result in lower productivity, leading to more government bailouts and increased U.S. reliance on other countries for food, said Cornell University climate and agricultural economist Ariel Ortiz-Bobea. Without action, agricultural productivity is estimated to drop up to 12 percent with each passing year by 2050. This will cost the U.S. economy billions annually. American farms contributed roughly $222.3 billion to the economy in 2023 alone.

“This is like a double whammy. They’re both human-caused, inflicted wounds. One because we’re failing to invest in R&D, the other because we’re emitting so much that it is actually slowing down productivity itself. So it’s like it’s being compressed from both sides,” said Ortiz-Bobea, who led the new study.

Experts worry that the Trump administration is heading in the wrong direction with its layoffs, funding freezes, and efforts to roll back scientific initiatives. House Republicans, for example, have been pushing to cut some $230 billion in agriculture spending over 10 years. Millions of dollars in reductions to the USDA’s research, inspection, and natural resources arms were included in the funding stopgap bill Trump signed March 15.

Most of the foundational agricultural research that happens in the United States is through some kind of USDA funding mechanism. The USDA is made up of multiple agencies and offices with their own research pipelines that support universities, nonprofits, businesses, farmers, ranchers, and foresters, among others. SARE grants are one of the ways the wider agency has funneled money into agricultural research conducted on farms nationwide, awarding nearly $406 million across 8,791 initiatives from its inception.

Jon Kasza runs an organic vegetable farm in New York’s Hudson Valley and relies on SARE funds to conduct his agricultural research. He doesn’t understand why the agency is still freezing that funding, given all of the administration’s promises to put farmers first. “I can’t say enough about how fragile it all looks to me,” said Kasza. He’s thinking about the excessively volatile bouts of rain that battered his fields in summer of 2023, followed by a smattering of dry periods last year that dried his soil so much he couldn’t plant his cover crops on-time in the fall. That’s where research grants like SARE, which he said allow farmers to bypass the typically “sluggish” timelines of conventional scientific trials to develop things like drought-resistant crop varieties, are critical.

In November, he submitted his first SARE grant proposal of nearly $30,000 to grow multiple varieties of rice on hillsides in raised beds with biodegradable plastic mulch to conserve water and expand where the crop can be produced. Earlier this year, he was notified by a regional representative that the grant had been approved. “We’re moving forward as if some of the funding is going to be there, but we know that that’s uncertain,” said Kasza, who called the messaging surrounding the freeze a “rollercoaster” of confusion. A local land conservation group has promised to step in to save about 20 percent of the project if federal funding falls through. Still, that is “not nearly enough” to complete the work, he said.

“It’s already hard enough just to have an agricultural business, but then to have climate change as a factor on top of that, and then have this administration who’s wreaking havoc?” he said. “Cutting research, particularly our farmer-driven research, off at the knees, just seems like such a silly and short-sighted thing to do.”

On the Hawaiian island of Kauai, another SARE grant recipient has also been stuck in limbo. Rancher Don Heacock spent decades working as an aquatic biologist for the Hawaii Division of Aquatic Resources before retiring and launching his nearly 40-acre farm in the late 1980s. Ever since, he’s raised a herd of water buffalo, grown crops like taro, and cultivated ponds of tilapia. He does it all with local food systems, soil health, and water conservation at the forefront, maximizing crop diversity, maintaining living roots in the ground year round, and integrating livestock farming.

Up until now, Heacock had heard nothing about his pending SARE grant, a $59,000 funding proposal submitted last year to expand his farm’s agrotourism education, buffalo raising, and soil conservation work. Then, suddenly, late last week, he was told the proposal was denied. He believes that rejection is linked to the federal funding freeze.

After reaching out to SARE representatives for all four regions and the national arm of the program, Grist has learned that the USDA-NIFA has frozen funding for all pending grant applications this fiscal year, which began in October. When asked, a national spokesperson confirmed those funds were still “under review” while regional representatives told Grist that all new calls for proposals have been paused as a result. None of the representatives specified a timeline for when those funds were disbursed nor whether already-awarded grant funding will be released.

For farmers like Heacock, the stakes of the administration grounding agricultural research initiatives like his is far bigger than the work happening on one lone project or farm. “Trump has got it all wrong. Climate is a real issue and it’s hitting us right in the face,” he said. “If we don’t become sustainable real quick, we’re dead in the water.”

Life these days is expensive. The lingering effects of the pandemic, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, higher fuel and energy prices, and extreme weather shocks throttling the supply chain have conspired to make many everyday necessities much less affordable. Rising food costs in particular have become a source of financial stress for millions of U.S. households. Though overall inflation has cooled from a record peak in 2022, food prices increased nearly a quarter over the last four years and are expected to continue to climb.

So far this year, Americans have faced a nationwide bird flu outbreak, propelling the cost of eggs to record levels, while rising temperatures and erratic rainfall across Western Africa are escalating chocolate prices to new highs. Years of drought in the U.S. have also contributed to historically low levels of cattle inventories, hiking up beef prices. The result is skyrocketing supermarket bills, tighter household budgets, and dwindling access to food.

President Donald Trump’s latest trade decisions aren’t likely to help the situation. Amid a flood of announcements about federal funding freezes, food program terminations, and mass government layoffs, the president has been issuing on-again, off-again sanctions aimed at the United States’ biggest trading partners. In the span of a single week, he enacted blanket tariffs against goods from Mexico, Canada, and China, exempted some products under the United States-Mexico-Canada trade agreement, and then doubled tariffs on China before threatening a new set of taxes on Canadian products. On Tuesday, he ordered his administration to double duties on Canadian steel and aluminum imports, which he subsequently walked back to 25 percent before those snapped into effect Wednesday morning, prompting immediate retaliation levies from Canada and the European Union.

The pendulum-like nature of Trump’s trade policies, economists told Grist, almost certainly means higher grocery store prices. It has already spooked financial markets and prompted major retailers like Target’s CEO Brian Cornell to warn that if some of the promised tariffs go into effect, customers could see sticker shock for fresh produce “within days.”

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“When it comes to extreme weather shocks, which are destroying our supply chains, climate change is increasing prices and creating food inflation,” said Seungki Lee, an agricultural economist at Ohio State University. If policymakers don’t fully account for that by adjusting trade policies, he said, then to some degree, “we will see the compounding impacts of tariffs and climate change-related shocks on the supply chain.”

Tariffs, or taxes charged on goods imported from other countries, are typically a negotiation tactic waged by governments in a game of international trade, with consumers and producers caught in the crosshairs. When goods enter a country, tariffs are calculated as a percentage of their value and paid by the importer. The importer may then choose to pass on the cost to consumers, which, in the case of something like fresh fruit grown in Mexico, often ends up being everyday people. Given the extent of the United States’ dependence on Canada, Mexico, and China for agricultural trade, farmers, analysts, business leaders, policymakers, and the general public have all raised concerns over the effect of tariffs on grocery store prices and the possibility of trade wars slowing economic growth.

During the first Trump term, levies on China triggered retaliatory tariffs that decimated agricultural exports and commodity prices, costing America’s agricultural industry more than $27 billion, which the government then had to cover with subsidy payouts. To date, the U.S. has not fully recovered its loss in market share of soybean exports to China, its biggest agricultural export market. An analysis by the National Bureau of Economic Research, a nonprofit organization, found that the 2018 trade war with China was largely passed through as increases in U.S. prices, reducing consumers’ income by about $1.4 billion per month. Rural agricultural sectors in the Midwest and the Mountain West were hit harder by China’s retaliatory tariffs than most others, the analysis found.

This time around, Trump appears to have doubled down on the tactic, though the demands and messaging of his tariff policy have remained wildly unpredictable, with economists dubbing the president an “agent of chaos and confusion.” All told, China, Canada, and Mexico supplied roughly 40 percent of the goods the U.S. imported last year. In 2023, Mexico alone was the source of about two-thirds of vegetables imported to the U.S., nearly half of fruit and nut imports, and about 90 percent of avocados consumed nationwide.

Without factoring in any retaliatory tariffs, estimates suggest that the levies imposed by Trump last week could amount to an average tax increase of anywhere between $830 a year to $1,072 per U.S. household. “I’m a little nervous about the increase in tension,” said Lee. “It could lead to an immediate shock in supermarket prices.”

Canada and China have since responded with tariffs of their own. Canada’s tariffs imposed last week amounted to nearly $21 billion on American goods, including orange juice, peanut butter, and coffee. China imposed 15 percent levies on wheat, corn, and chicken produced by U.S. farmers, in addition to 10 percent tariffs on products including soybeans, pork, beef, and fruit that went into effect on Monday. Meanwhile, Mexico planned to announce retaliatory tariffs but instead celebrated Trump’s decision to postpone. On Wednesday, in response to Trump’s steel and aluminum tariff hike, Canadian officials announced a second $20.7 billion wave of duties and the European Union declared it would begin retaliatory trade action next month for a range of U.S. industrial and farm goods that includes sugar, beef, eggs, poultry, peanut butter, and bourbon.

With Trump’s planned tariffs, Americans can expect to see fresh produce shipped from Mexico such as tomatoes, strawberries, avocados, limes, mangos, and papayas, as well as types of tequila and beer, become more expensive. Other agricultural products sourced from Canada, including fertilizer, chocolate, canola oil, maple syrup, and pork are also likely to see cost hikes. New duties on potash, a key ingredient in fertilizer, and steel used in agricultural machinery coming from Canada could also indirectly elevate food prices. Many of these products, such as avocados, vegetable oils, cocoa, and mangoes, are already seeing surging pricetags in part because of rising temperatures.

Though there’s no shortage of questions surrounding Trump’s tariff policy right now, James Sayre, an agricultural economist at the University of California, Davis, said that even this current state of international trade uncertainty will lead to a higher grocery cost burden for consumers.

“All of this uncertainty is really bad for businesses hoping to import, or establish new supply chains abroad, or for any large-scale investment,” said Sayre. “Just this degree of uncertainty will increase prices for consumers and reduce consumer choice at the supermarket…even more than tariffs themselves.”

All the while, climate change continues to fuel food inflation, leaving American consumers to foot the bill of a warming world and the cascading effects of an administration seemingly set on upending global trade relations.

“It is actually a little bit hard to anticipate what we can expect from the current administration when we are seeing the burden of food inflation by tariffs or trade, and also at the same time, we have climate-related shocks on the supply chain,” said Lee. “Hopefully, we will not see an unexpected compounding effect by these two very different animals.”