Some commodity prices have gone through the roof in the past year or so, and there is widespread resentment. Consumers feel that someone or something should be accountable.

The commodity market is a place in which speculators may buy “futures” contracts for certain commodities. Activity in these commodities has increased in the past six years from $10 billion annual trades to $270 billion. Oil, which is one of the permitted “futures” commodities, has tripled in price. So, the two seem connected.

But the evidence is not all in. During this same period of oil inflation, many other commodities not traded in futures – hogs, iron and molybdenum, to name only a few – have also suffered outrageous price rises. A prime example: Some years ago, to keep farmers in his district happy, a young congressman named Gerald Ford authored a law banning futures trading in onions. It’s still on the books and onion price swings are the worst in the entire commodity market.

Perhaps blame for prices rests not entirely on speculators.

The main culprit for the recent $140-a-barrel oil seems to be poor groundwork. World oil production for 2006-07 was programmed based on growth for the preceding five years, during which demand for oil increased 1.1 percent per year. Unfortunately, the actual increase turned out to be 2.1 percent – nearly double. Since oil production could not be increased rapidly enough to meet demand, the inevitable occurred.

There were other mice in the cupboard when oil prices were high. For example, much oil production is controlled or owned by governments who price it as a political tool. Also, the weakness of the dollar – in which oil trading is priced – hurt the United States. The price fluctuation in euros has been about 24 percent less.

In an effort to shed some light on commodity pricing problems, we contacted Lucius Flatley, a dairy owner in east Gorham, to see if comparing them with the production and sale of Maine milk might simplify the picture. Although there is no futures market in milk, it is a commodity of interest to Mainers. Besides, it is much cleaner and healthier than oil.

Maine has a unique Milk Commission, which sets a price below which milk cannot be sold. However, that floor is low enough to barely keep the farmer from starvation – and anyway, has little to do with price increases. The simple fact, according to Lucius, is that Maine dairies are at the mercy of the market.

Maine’s milk price originates with the Mercantile Exchange in Chicago. It is then adjusted, or fixed, by a government regional order in Boston and finally massaged by the actual buyer (such as Hood or Oakhurst), which effectively controls what the householder pays at Hannaford or Shaw’s. Along with volumes of production regulations, this complex mechanism is designed primarily to provide milk to the consumer as cheaply as possible.

Inexpensive milk is a fine goal. It is a goal, however, that hardly seems to consider the farmer. Arbitrary milk prices flash all the way down through the commodity supply chain until it reaches the farmer, whose welfare is the last to be taken into account. He is often made to suffer.

The bottom line is that the Maine farmer must sell milk for whatever it will bring month by month – not only because futures contracts are forbidden (and milk is so meticulously regulated), but also because the farmer has few or no weapons with which to protect the product. The farmer can’t lower production, and there are only two ways to increase it: one, buy more “fresh” cows – which can’t be found at the local Wal-Mart; or two, raise more cows, which takes about two years.

Nor can milk be stored in huge tankers anchored offshore. (Some can be converted to cheese or butter, but the relative amounts are about the same proportion as axle grease and WD-40 are to crude oil.) Twice a day, when that cow lets down, the farmer’s market clock starts ticking.

After years of hard work and adjustment to this complex system, Maine dairies have adapted reasonably well. Based on forecast feed and fuel costs, as well as weather and other imponderables, Maine dairies have become able to make an informed guess as to how much milk will be sold and to instruct their cows accordingly. As long as farmers are willing to work more hours than anyone except a soldier in combat, and for below the minimum hourly wage, they can survive.

In a spell of wishful thinking, Lucius wondered if speculators willing to purchase milk futures in the commodity market might be a benefit to the Maine producer. He asked, “What Maine dairyman would not be happy to have a contract for his milk next year at 25 bucks a hundredweight?”

Rodney Quinn, who lives in Gorham, is a former Maine secretary of state. He can be contacted at rquinn@maine.rr.com.