Dialogue and collective action can be powerful tools to heal communities – sometimes literally, as we heard from the Menu of Food Voices project and a community in Galicia, Spain that came together to take a stand against agri-food corporations whose waste was polluting the local environment.
The wellbeing of rural communities can be an unseen cost of doing business. One person who is keenly aware of how rural powerlessness can take a toll on mental health is Xavier Hamon, an artisan-cook who works to rebalance power relationships in food systems, and a long-time partner of the Rural Resililence project. We spoke to him about mental health in rural areas at the Rural Resilience gathering in Plessé, north-west France, in November 2025. In conversation with Xavier Hamon.
At this European gathering in Plessé, we met many people radiating joy, and a sense of cooperation and respect. At one moment in our workshops you talked about “collective depression”. Is mental health an issue in rural Brittany?
First of all, I would like to clarify that I am not a specialist, and even less a practitioner. However, I was trained as a nurse in a psychiatric institution not far from here, and after several years of working in mental health care, I remain very sensitive to this issue, even though today I am primarily an educator.
So what do you understand by collective depression?
It’s a general problem within the French population. Epidemiological studies show this, and it is particularly acute in rural areas. It’s a problem because it is invisible, not only to you, but also to many people who live here. We are one of the most industrialised and polluted agricultural regions in France, maybe in Europe. Many farmers cannot pay back their loans. They may suffer from health problems due to pesticides or veterinary pharmaceuticals they use. They may also feel isolated due to the demands of farming. But no-one talks about it. They think it is their own problem when things go wrong. They think they have failed or feel guilty. Some repress these feelings. Others simply give up and quit farming. That is what I call collective silence and depressive disorder.
Is there a way to remedy this?
Very few people—especially farmers, and especially men—talk about it. Silence within couples, families, and circles of friends is the worst enemy. There is a stigma to acknowledging depression: it’s perceived as an admission of failure. But not talking about it destroys bonds of solidarity and mutual aid. I don’t think the Plessé region is spared from this phenomenon, but it seems to me that there are collective organisations here (associations and cooperatives such as GAECs and CUMAs) that are effective antidotes to depressive syndromes. Nevertheless, here as elsewhere, if collective silence continues to cover up the problems of the agricultural system, there is no way out. By collective silence, I mean the inability of a community to recognise the shared responsibility for the situation of farmers, regardless of their production model.
Are the farming sector and rural communities especially silent?
It takes courage—from elected officials, teachers, doctors, or anyone who dares to speak out, to create a space where people can share their anxieties and doubts. Of course, there are individual vulnerabilities, and we are not all equal in this respect. But we must collectively address the question of our shared responsibilities for suffering in the agricultural and rural space. Lots has been written about the environmental, climatic, cultural, social, family, and economic damage caused by the conventional Breton agricultural model. The arguments used absolve individuals by placing responsibility on unions, banks, cooperatives, and large-scale retail.
Isn’t that true?
Yes and no. What should ease the burden of farmers—pointing to the real culprits—ends up creating local tensions, within families, villages, and friendships. On the issue of green algae on our coasts, for example, shared responsibilities are very clearly identified, and yet the subject is taboo among friends, families, and in society, which increases the burden placed solely on farmers. We are all potential victims of the systemic damage caused by green algae, and yet every family has its own interests in defending the agri-food industry.
I feel like I am living in a world where everyone behaves as if the problem does not concern them, where everyone lies to themselves in order to preserve their job, their network, their standard of living, their assets, their social position, their local power. So many jobs in Brittany are linked to agriculture and food! This is where we need to collectively ease the burden, and break the silence.
What can elected representatives do?
It seems to me that as long as there is no official, collective admission of guilt from representatives of municipalities, departments, the region, or the state at the regional level. No-one is taking responsibility, and it will continue to rest on the shoulders of those who are the first to suffer from this lethal agri-food system: the farmers. I believe we need great courage—first and foremost from political leaders—to inspire a truth and reconciliation commission in Brittany, and finally begin to talk to one another again, to envision the future together without the resentment born of ideological oppositions held by a few to the detriment of the vast majority.
It seems that cases of suicide are on the rise in rural France?
The issue of mental health cannot be resolved so simply in rural areas, given the many factors that can lead to suicide. Nevertheless, this reconciliatory dimension could ease many situations, many families, many people, and above all reveal a way forward, a different imaginary than the dead ends currently proposed. And not just for the conventional model; there are organic, local, small-scale initiatives that face economic dead ends just as harmful as environmental ones.
Are there preventive measures implemented by communities or municipalities to address individual depression?
Yes, there are. France has decided to make mental health a national cause for 2025 and 2026, so there is awareness of the problem, not only in rural areas. Specialised institutions are developing formats for awareness-raising and intervention as close as possible to the population. Professional organisations are also working with their members. But the reasons for depression and suicide, as I said, are never purely personal, and suicide prevention also requires addressing the causes—and they are not only individual. Some people may be predisposed to depression and need psychological or medical treatment, but simply knowing that others are facing the same problems and fears can already be a relief and help break isolation.
However, this does not sufficiently address needs for income, recognition, and the sense of doing meaningful work that every profession has the right to seek. It does not address the needs of rural areas to envision collective and social futures. Nor does it respond to the need for emancipation in order to escape dead ends. It does not address the risk of rural areas being preyed upon through farm takeovers by corporations. Nor does it meet the need to involve the entire rural population—not only farmers—in territorial projects.
So what would help to step out of this dead end?
Being part of a human community that decides its future like in Plessé, in all its diversity, is surely one remedy for collective depression. It is also the role of elected officials to foster these emancipations rather than constantly thinking of top-down and imposing disconnected solutions. Recognising the harm done and collectively assuming responsibility for the damage inflicted on farmers as well as on the environment would ease our collective depression and would certainly prevent some suicides.
New forms of cooperation around food are emerging in Europe: farmer-bakers, farmer-brewers, farmer-livestock breeders. You describe yourself as an artisan cook. Could re-connecting people in local and regional food chains be the way?
I believe it is first and foremost about breaking the silence. If we talk and listen, we rebuild connections and reconcile what has been broken; we regain confidence in ourselves and in others.
My method is to bring together as many people as possible around food—not trendy or luxurious food, not commercial fast food, but food that reconnects us with the place where it was grown, with the people who produced and cooked it, and with the joy that taste and sharing provide. Food becomes a bond, not just nourishment. That is what we try to do in our alliance of cooks, in our work in Plessé, in our training for cooks and gastronomy, and in this European gathering. We can no longer eat cheaply while lamenting the situation of farmers, livestock breeders, and market gardeners. Collective action, joy, and concrete financial perspectives—above all for workers and production tools—are the best remedies against isolation and despair.
Many thanks Xavier. This is food for thought.
This interview is based on a conversation between Xavier Hamon and Hannes Lorenzen during the European gathering on rural resilience held in Plessé in November 2025.
Xavier Hamon is an artisan cook in Brittany, founder of Alliance des tables libres et vivantes in France, and a rural activist. He teaches sustainable cooking to young chefs in rural and urban communities and organises events and networks around local food systems, rare livestock breeds and local seeds. Xavier is involved in the municipality of Plessé, implementing local agricultural and food policy at the municipal level. Hannes Lorenzen talked with him about mental health in rural areas during the European gathering on rural resilience held in Plessé in November 2025.
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