IT always gives me a warm glow to see Jersey featured on national TV for the right reasons.

So my heart leapt when, by chance last week, I caught a late-night episode of a documentary series on BBC4 with the somewhat unprepossessing title ‘Mud, sweat and tractors’.

It portrayed the history of fruit and vegetable farming during the 20th century. Not surprisingly, the camera focused on tomatoes and the extraordinary success of local growers who had established a niche in both outdoor and under-glass production.

But reality soon dawned. The programme was filmed in 2008, so much has happened since to dampen the flame.

Indeed, one of the local growers featured – Stanley Payn, whose family had been in the industry since God squeezed pips into the fruit – has now been forced out of the business  by the cut-throat marketing pressure of multi-national retail which insists on high-volume, rock-bottom priced, billiard-ball uniformity in the name of consumer ‘choice’.

It makes an interesting comparison with the current obsession with attracting more supermarket outlets to the Island.

Why are we so keen to smother ourselves with low-value merchandise fabricated in the sweat-shops of the Far East with instructions in 17 languages and a lifespan little longer than a geriatric may-fly?

Of course we all desire value for money, but cheaper does not, repeat not, necessarily represent a bargain. It is easy to be seduced by the sham price-cutting beauty contests indulged in by the major UK names, particularly when they have the economies of scale to slug it out in the tabloid newspapers and day-time advertising slots on TV.

The fact that this story won’t go away, despite independent reports that the basis for foisting another supermarket operator upon us is seriously flawed, raises suspicions that there may be more motives at play than altruistic concerns for consumer choice.

Retailers are in business to make money – that’s a truism, and there is no profit in taking prisoners. So, big is beautiful. It allows the hoovering up and extinguishing of competition.

Beware the false prophets who advocate the myth that competition in the marketplace is good for consumer choice. They must answer serious questions about how variety and service have been extinguished by favouring cheap fly-by-nighters in ferry travel, non-domestic high-street beneficiaries of zero-ten and utility providers – which list should now potentially include postal services.

However, it is the food industry which is most vulnerable and where not taking the aforementioned prisoners is the first step to genocide. Local produce has a worldwide stamp of quality. There are finite costs involved in its production.

The supermarket barons owe their allegiance to shareholders, not customers, so if they drive down local producer costs below sustainable rates, they simply pull out and exploit other territory.

For us, that could deal a double blow, leaving a decimated industry and a long-term dependence on imported bulk produce, too much of which ends up having to be disposed of anyway.

To be really honest, nature has a compelling way of providing the best value. Forget the discount manipulators – the weather is the best regulator: look at the current price of Jersey Royals!

So much for the philosophy. What about the location? We’re back to competition – competition for space.

It doesn’t take a genius to work out that you put your megamart where it can be accessed by most people – and that doesn’t mean the most cars. So where are the largest, most convenient sites?  Whether it be Bath Street, Gas Place, the Waterfront or St Ouen’s Pond, unless there is some ulterior motive to plough up the countryside and exacerbate even further the pressure on rural infrastructure, the only choice is in an existing urban setting.

Now please don’t think I have any vested interests. I might not support the idea of another operator pouring unnecessary cheaper wares onto the market, but equally I can have no truck with attempts from whatever quarter to undermine the independent market and farm shops which really do offer greater variety, if not quantity.

No, I’ll defer to the maladroit interventions by high-profile establishment players to expose their partiality. You see, in politics often the outcome is settled before the evidence is supplied. So you draw up a policy in advance and then spread justification like a sugar sifter over the proposals to sweeten the conclusions and deflect scrutiny.

The most glaring example recently has to be the contention that in tearing up countryside protection, ‘any detrimental effect on the Island’s natural environment would be outweighed by the benefits to local consumers’.

I cannot believe anyone possessed of even the smallest flicker of social integrity could utter anything so ill-considered. How sad when economic development actually smacks of promoting the decline of local infrastructure, enterprise, heritage and long-term security.

So back to those deserted tomato greenhouses. Prompted by watching the BBC programme, I headed out last weekend to the borders of St Clement and Grouville to see what became of the Payn operation. The glazed skeletons may still be there, but their once-productive hearts have been torn out for all to see. I couldn’t help but think what a waste it all was, what potential we are just letting rot away.

Even at this very late stage, it would be refreshing to see wise counsels intervene. It’s called strategic reserve planning. It capitalises on the natural resources available, promotes and secures them in readiness for the lean times. It acknowledges that the whole community depends on a thriving agriculture sector – it’s our default position when all about us crashes over the cliffs of usury and purposeless acquisition.

And it beats the short-term greed of the check-out Charlies by the till-full.