2nd Quarterly Report
Dear Watson Family,
Happy holidays from Lima, Peru, though I think I left my heart somewhere in the Himalayas! I have crossed 12 time zones in the last three days, miraculously made six international connections, and somehow managed to keep my luggage all the way to South America. Not the ideal way to spend the holidays, but in lieu of Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, I enjoyed Diwali, the Indian Festival of Lights, and National Day (in honor of Bhutan’s king). Today, my body and internal clock have no idea what time it is and I feel so exhausted, I can barely sleep. Spending time, albeit brief, in the airports of Europe where squat toilets cease to exist, designer stores like Dior are everywhere, and westerners with an excess of belongings abound was disorienting. You know you have been traveling for a while when it’s actually more comfortable to eat with your hands, when you are accustomed to squat-toilets, and when you actually prefer to take a bucket shower. Moreover, I continue to reply to people with the distinct Indian head wobble that indicates yes/no/yes/maybe. I have also grown accustomed to waking to incense overwhelming my olfactory system, a distinct part of Buddhist puja (prayer) each morning. But rewind three months to when I last wrote you from India. After visiting eight states, spending a total of 7 days on buses and trains, residing in 15 homestays, and conducting more than 60 interviews and visits, I have learned so much that I truly cannot begin to explicate, but I will try.
After leaving the majestic mountains of Ladakh in India’s northernmost state, I made my way south to Vandana Shiva’s biodiversity conservation farm and learning centre, Navdanya. Although I have been dreaming about coming here for ages, I have mixed feelings about my one-week stay. I can imagine that being there for a long time would have its pros and cons, but spending the majority of time with fellow foreigners made it feel like it wasn’t the “real” India (whatever that means). It was more like a bubble or a distorted reality that has the potential to make one feel trapped. So lesson #1: sometimes Plan A is not ideal. Despite these downbeat aspects, I suppose I should also focus on all the good things: I met many inspiring people whose varied backgrounds lent well to resource exchange, which helped me critically analyze my own research and make future contacts in India. I got my hands dirty working in the field(weeding, cleaning rice, sorting seeds, transplanting, and harvesting), and I still find weeding cathartic and therapeutic, as well as harvesting (getting to see the product) and planting (knowing that you are giving life). I taught yoga for the first time, which not only made me feel physically good but the overwhelmingly positive feedback from the class has inspired me to want to become a yoga teacher when I return home! Most importantly, however, while at Navdanya, I’ve realized that my own mindset and attitudes have changed since I left for my trip. I think that before the Watson, in the comfort of college and my extracurricular involvement in Slow Food, I was easily swayed and convinced that local, organic, small-scale, traditional, and simple living is the most desirable. However, at Navdanya, I found myself annoyed with people who “just want to live simply” and seem opposed to anything remotely modern, globalized, and change-oriented. Deep down, I want those same things, but I also don’t think we can ignore the other side, which I often found myself defending. I don’t think I would have found myself in this position last Spring, though I hadn’t realized it until I was surrounded by people who seem brainwashed – it’s a huge step for me. I want to continue to ask tough questions in the future and not complacently accept the “easy” answer, whichever side it may fall on.
After Navdanya, I made my way to the state of Punjab, the birthplace of the Green Revolution (GR) and the granary or breadbasket of India (though it is now known as the cancer state from overexposure to agro-chemicals). Initially unplanned or rather a “Plan B,” I am so glad I fit Punjab into the itinerary and felt like my knowledge and experience were profoundly enriched. It even turned out to be one of my favorite places in India: the state is mostly Sikh religion (think turbans and long beards), the food here is divine, and I am officially obsessed with Indian clothes and need to stop buying them. Here I was able to speak with two young girls who lost their fathers to debt-related farmer suicide, and my most memorable visit was with a young farmer who is experimenting with organic. It’s a difficult transition, I am realizing more and more. He told me stories of how his neighbors think he’s crazy for growing vegetables, when they just grow rice and wheat with government support. They laugh at him when he rides his bicycle 11 km to the nearby town to sell at the market. Even his own mother asks, “why are you doing this rubbish?”
Agriculture in Punjab feels contradictory: prosperous and tragic. Some farmers are producing huge yields (with the help of subsidies and chemicals), while others are stuck in a debt trap and resort to suicide. They know about the ill-health effects of chemicals but are willing to take the risk for menial profit. I have also come to understand the inherent paradox to mechanization: on the one hand, it displaces labor and forces farmers off their land; on the other hand, it relieves farmers from drudgery and has the potential to incentivize youth to come back to the land. Thus agricultural technology has the potential to assist farmers if it is implemented appropriately, which is where the term “appropriate technology” comes in. Even though my stay was just a little more than a week, I feel like I’ve learned so much and that I am being challenged in all directions. For better or worse, organic farming is not as simple as it seems. Those who try it do not have the support of family, community or government. They are like salmon swimming upstream to spawn – against all odds, trying their best. Even just weeding for a couple of hours, I can see how it might be tempting for farmers to simply spray pesticides and herbicides on their fields instead of backbreaking, monotonous labor. I think that it is so simple to romanticize organic but in reality, it’s just not that easy – labor is expensive, making compost and biopesticides is labor and time intensive, the government does not support it, and there are no assured markets. So I am coming to many realizations here and also trying to push aside my inherent biases and preconceived notions.
After my stay in Punjab, I felt more prepared to attend the World Agricultural Forum Congress in Hyderabad, which was supposed to focus on smallholder farmers. During the conference, I randomly met another female delegate who offered to host me for four days at her home. She helped me dress in saris for the Congress gala dinners, and one night, we even rode to the venue on her scooter, an incredible experience, zooming through the crowded streets of Hyderabad, riding sidesaddle in a flowing sari on the back of her motorbike. The wind whipped through my hair (on a helmetless head, mind you) and ruffled the fabric of the traditional dress (which I was careful to tie up so that it wouldn’t catch). India has the power to make me feel so alive. Despite its imperfections and drawbacks, I find myself in love with this country.
Fortunately, the World Agricultural Forum (WAF) 2013 Congress was a significant opportunity for me to engage, learn, and collaborate with a variety of stakeholders in the global farming system, ranging from industry leaders to politicians and farmers to academics. There was also deep irony in that one of my hosts (a scholar and activist) and his colleagues withdrew their invitations to speak at the Congress, held a press conference/rally at the fair, and made demands for the state government to withdraw support, all in protest of the corporate-dominated agenda. Essentially, I am discouraged and tired of hearing the same rhetoric on opposing sides: the organic movement critiques MNCs and the industry for exploiting small farmers and on the other hand, industry says that privatization, technology, and modern inputs are going to be the saving grace of small farmers. I feel pulled in opposite directions and seek a neutral opinion, as both ends of the spectrum articulate and support their arguments eloquently and compellingly. While I acknowledge that all stakeholders have their own values and agendas, I like to think that everyone wants the same thing and that it is just a matter of how we achieve these collective goals without letting vested interests get in the way.
Moving on to two weeks in Vidarbha, the farmer suicide belt of India. Again, it was quite the whirlwind tour of dryland farming in this marginally productive area. I spent time with Subhash Palekar, founder of the Zero Budget Spiritual Farming movement in India. Although I commend Palekar’s efforts to mobilize a mass movement of farmers who are saying no to market dependence and uplifting themselves through proactive measures, I am extremely skeptical of his conspiracy theorist tendencies (he recently published a book titled, “Is Organic Farming a Conspiracy?”). Though he did raise one excellent point, which further motivates me to take up farming as an occupation and lifestyle at some point in my future:
“All these techniques and principles of organic farming are introduced by those intellectuals in society who are not practicing farming, they do not know how to plough or harrow the soil; how to sow the seeds, how to harvest with their own hands. They don’t know the actual problems, which the farmers are facing.”
On the model farm visits, I was able to see impressive yields and incomes, content farmers, and generally successful operations. It made realize that seeing is believing for farmers who have not yet phased out chemicals.
After the tours, I found myself in the town of Yavatmal. During my 7+ farm visits, I saw firsthand how technology definitely does not mean progress. I was able to contrast Punjabi farmers who have the most modern technology (which demands monoculture) with marginal dryland farmers in Vidarbha who, without access to irrigation or high tech machines, are intercropping cotton and pigeon pea for nitrogen fixation. In my mind, this mixed cropping and lack of mechanization is actually much more “progressive.” It was powerful and depressing being in the birthplace of cotton where farmers don’t understand the BT GMO technology and are killing themselves, coexisting alongside farmers who very much recognize the flaws and are avoiding the system. The Director of the Centre of Sustainable Agriculture aptly told me, “Where we thought and assumed that technology was not available it was the other way round. The suicides were a result of technology failure.” It was a poignant moment attending a farmer meeting where I asked them if they know about the genetic modification technology behind BT Cotton and when they replied “no,” hearing it explained to them for the first time. Ultimately, my time in Vidarbha was dominated by both theoretical and practical learning, as well as stark visual comparisons. I received a basic lesson in watershed development; an explanation of pesticide management techniques (comparing integrated pest management (IPM), non-pesticidal management (NPM), and Insecticide Resistance Management (IRM)); and the importance of data-driven studies directly comparing organic and chemical farming systems.
And I can’t think of a better way to wrap up my research in India than visiting the MS Swaminathan Research Foundation in Chennai. Almost since the beginning of my time in India, I had been hoping to meet and interview Dr. MS Swaminathan himself. He is known as the “Father of the Green Revolution in India” and worked with the late and former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in the 1960s to double India’s grain production, transforming the hungry nation from food insecure to a self-sufficient net exporter. Dr. Swaminathan is a bit of a foodie/ag celebrity in my mind, so I was shocked and exhilarated when his secretary was able to arrange an interview. Although he just celebrated his 88th birthday, he is still very much young at heart. My time at MSSRF was useful because of the overall balanced approach to these issues. Dr. Swaminathan summed up very well that everyone has to devise their own thoughts on new developments and technologies, but it should not be based upon emotions, ideology, whims, or other people’s flimsy opinions but rather data-driven, independent science. Furthermore, there is no magic bullet solution to the agrarian crisis – as Dr. Swaminathan said, “organic is not the panacea for everything” (and neither are GMOs). Yes, sustainable agroecological farming may hold the answer to many of our problems, but perhaps it really does entail some integrated approaches (i.e. not ruling out external inputs, chemicals, and hybrid seeds all together) – honestly, I really don’t know. And as stated before, I’ve spent my fair share of time with conspiracy theorists and ideology-driven people on both ends of the spectrum: comparing the March Against Monsanto global protest, which I attended in New Delhi in October, with the corporate-laden World Agricultural forum is a stark contrast. However, I finally feel like neutral voices are coming through. Lastly, I asked Dr. Swaminthan what his advice would be for an aspiring young person such as myself and he said: “My advice would be don’t go by slogans, emotions, or because somebody says, ‘this is bad. That is bad.’ Apply your own mind,” which is exactly what I am attempting to do this year.
I finished my time in India by taking side trips to Varanasi and Darjeeling, which made me feel like I am teetering on the edge of being a tourist and an inhabitant. By no means do I claim to be an expert in Indian culture or to have any true comprehension of the crisis of poverty and hardship here, but I do feel like I have been able to closely observe and experience the beautifully rich culture (e.g. politics, food, dress etc.) through my rural and urban homestays. I also acknowledge that I am much closer to a tourist, but my quotidian activities feel far from touristy. That being said, I become disoriented when I meet other travelers, since it has been a very long time since I’ve encountered them. I realize that this fellowship and all of its independent glory allow me to intimately and genuinely interact with communities and issues that would most certainly be inaccessible if I were a merely a tourist or in a group. This distinction was further highlighted by the fact that I was able to go to Bhutan on a non-tourist Visa. By working with the Ministry of Agriculture’s National Organic Program, I bypassed the $250 per day tariff and got off the beaten path, going places that tourists are not allowed. Without the Watson, this would have most certainly been impossible, so thank you.
Bhutan. What can I say about this amazing little Himalayan kingdom? One that makes up for its lack of size in natural beauty and personality, and the first country in the world to declare the goal of 100% organic agriculture. It is called the Land of the Thunder Dragon or the “Last Shangri-la” for its remoteness and cultural preservation, but I would rather call it the “Land of the Unexpected.” For instance, I’ve eaten more meat in the last week than the last six months combined and Bhutanese are Buddhist, meaning they shun the killing of animals and thus I expected them to be largely vegetarian. Not to say that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy the yak burger or wild boar, but my stomach is overwhelmed and confused. Moreover, I honestly thought that coming to Bhutan, a country that was an absolute monarchy until 2008, that uses Gross National Happiness (GNH) alongside GDP as an index of growth, where Internet and TV didn’t come until 1999, a national traditional dress code is required in government offices, and all buildings must conform to the national architecture, would be true cultural immersion into a pristinely traditional society. Instead being in the capital city of Thimphu felt more like home than anything in the last 6 months: a shower with running hot water, eating pasta and tomato sauce for dinner, watching a Pixar animated film on a flat screen TV, going to a bar to listen to acoustic covers of American bands – all in the company of my new Bhutanese friends who are part of the growing urban, middle class.
Yet I quickly found myself in a truck going 6 hours south, mentally preparing for a short stay with a farming family. During this drive, I once again re-boarded the time machine and have since been jolted out of both time and space. Practicing milking a cow, churning butter, making cheese, weeding the broccoli patch, harvesting yams, maintaining the vermicompost, transplanting, and seeing the water mill were just a few of the activities. I imagine this is how it would have been living in Old Sturbridge Village, a popular field trip site during elementary school where people would dress up in colonial-era clothes and churn butter for an audience of restless schoolchildren. Except this isn’t 18th century New England – this is 2013 in rural Bhutan in a village where electricity didn’t come until last year.
Over three weeks, I did four farmer homestays, saw five Dzongkhags (districts), and conducted 28 interviews/visits with a variety of stakeholders. Through these enriching experiences, I have come to understand many things. For instance, Bhutan may still be attempting to scale up to 100% organic, but this doesn’t actually seem to be the hard part. In reality, the country is facing a number of other unique challenges, namely related to its dramatic topography, varying climate, and sparse population. The issue is not that farmers are dependent on chemical inputs for farming or are at the whim of multinational corporations such as Monsanto, as is the situation in much of India. In contrast, one of the major problems is very poor road infrastructure, which limits marketing options for farmers, keeping most in a subsistence lifestyle. Moreover, fragmentation has led to even smaller land holdings and even those minute acres are often mountainous, difficult to cultivate, and nearly impossible to mechanize. And the lack of both export and domestic markets dis-incentivizes farmers from scaling up to commercial production.
Unlike India and many other countries in the world, the Bhutanese government plays an extremely large role in the agricultural system with most areas entirely nationalized and minimal privatization. There seems to be genuine concern for farmer welfare on behalf of the state and the necessary oversight, though perhaps too much in some cases. At the National Biodiversity Center, I was told about efforts to promote biodiversity and traditional seeds through value addition and marketing of local products; of the importance of appropriate technology at the Agriculture Mechanization Center; post-harvest storage and processing for preservation and value addition at the National Post Harvest Center; different methods of pest, disease, and weed control at the National Plant Protection Center; various nutrient management techniques at the National Soil Services Center; and aims to promote food self-sufficiency through improved seed varieties at the National Seed Center. I also observed first-hand the potential for private business through the eyes and experiences of a young entrepreneur; about struggles with improved methods such as System of Rice Intensification from farmers, extension officers, and department directors; and efforts to support farming through academic conduits at the secondary school and university level.
After an enjoyable week living with four different farming families, attending a Bhutanese wedding (the first wedding in my life! I can add this to the list of the unexpected), conducting nine farmer interviews, and gaining hands on experience in farming, I found myself back in the capital city of Thimphu. And it was perfect and just in time for a very special guest: Andre Leu, President of IFOAM (International Federation of Organic Agriculture Movements headquartered in Bonn, Germany). Andre was visiting Bhutan to do a seminar for Ministry of Agriculture executives, including the Minister himself. Obviously, I was not expecting this, so it was a wonderful surprise and remarkable way to celebrate the six-month mark on the Watson Fellowship. The most poignant part of his seminar, titled “Achieving Food Security with Science-Based High Yielding Organic Agriculture in Bhutan,” was that modern organic agriculture is not the same as the low-yield, backbreaking farming of the past. He noted that today, organic agriculture combines tradition with innovation and science by focusing on ecological processes, biodiversity, and local cycles. An exciting “Aha” moment for me: I think organic farming may be one of the answers I have been looking for all along: how to marry traditional indigenous wisdom with modern science and technologies for improved agriculture.
Like Dr. Swaminathan, Andre also emphasized the deep need to remove dogma from the organic discussion and instead promote science. In a balanced and realistic approach, he introduced me to concepts such as Ecological Function Intensification. He did some myth-busting about organic with well defined arguments as to why yields do not have to go down, the potential for small-farm income generation, and the prospective for participatory guarantee system (PGS) certification in lieu of an expensive third party scheme. It was a striking moment hearing the Minister of Agriculture himself admit that the presentation was eye opening and to observe ministry employees show both the resistance and eagerness to move forward on the national organic plan. Thus, the last major unexpected aspect of Bhutan: during my interviews, I felt some clear reservations and doubt within much of the ministry with regard to the 100% organic plan, as many individuals argued for integrated pest and nutrient management systems that utilize chemical inputs as a last resort.
So now, as I prepare to embark on my next Watson journey, this time to the Bolivian Altiplano, where I hope to spend the next three months learning about quinoa, I will leave you with visions of Bhutan:
As I sleep and wake to the rhythms of the Earth, it’s like heaven here. It feels like I am closer to the sky, within kissing distance as the clouds engulf the lush and verdant hillside. Today, while harvesting pole beans, the sun’s rays pierced through and peaked out over the impending clouds, as if the Gods were splitting open the heavens with a triton of sunshine. The air is so crisp and fresh; life just seems to make sense. I am not saying that a rural existence is easy, but it is logical. The Earth is ready to give us so much – why not borrow it as long as we give back? For instance, harnessing and mimicking nature through vermicompost or water-powered mills – these simple schemes are low cost and environmentally sound. I am truly amazed by the productivity of such a small landholding: 30 crops on one acre – the way the fields are just bursting with life in an abundance of fruits and vegetables. The feeling of having fresh compost slip through my fingers or the snap of the stem when picking beans. To some degree, I crave self-sufficiency and I hope that I can take some of these lessons home: the slowing down and letting the seasons and daylight be my timekeepers.
Thank you again for everything and best wishes for a Happy New Year,
Lauren
Dear Watson Family,
Happy holidays from Lima, Peru, though I think I left my heart somewhere in the Himalayas! I have crossed 12 time zones in the last three days, miraculously made six international connections, and somehow managed to keep my luggage all the way to South America. Not the ideal way to spend the holidays, but in lieu of Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, I enjoyed Diwali, the Indian Festival of Lights, and National Day (in honor of Bhutan’s king). Today, my body and internal clock have no idea what time it is and I feel so exhausted, I can barely sleep. Spending time, albeit brief, in the airports of Europe where squat toilets cease to exist, designer stores like Dior are everywhere, and westerners with an excess of belongings abound was disorienting. You know you have been traveling for a while when it’s actually more comfortable to eat with your hands, when you are accustomed to squat-toilets, and when you actually prefer to take a bucket shower. Moreover, I continue to reply to people with the distinct Indian head wobble that indicates yes/no/yes/maybe. I have also grown accustomed to waking to incense overwhelming my olfactory system, a distinct part of Buddhist puja (prayer) each morning. But rewind three months to when I last wrote you from India. After visiting eight states, spending a total of 7 days on buses and trains, residing in 15 homestays, and conducting more than 60 interviews and visits, I have learned so much that I truly cannot begin to explicate, but I will try.
After leaving the majestic mountains of Ladakh in India’s northernmost state, I made my way south to Vandana Shiva’s biodiversity conservation farm and learning centre, Navdanya. Although I have been dreaming about coming here for ages, I have mixed feelings about my one-week stay. I can imagine that being there for a long time would have its pros and cons, but spending the majority of time with fellow foreigners made it feel like it wasn’t the “real” India (whatever that means). It was more like a bubble or a distorted reality that has the potential to make one feel trapped. So lesson #1: sometimes Plan A is not ideal. Despite these downbeat aspects, I suppose I should also focus on all the good things: I met many inspiring people whose varied backgrounds lent well to resource exchange, which helped me critically analyze my own research and make future contacts in India. I got my hands dirty working in the field(weeding, cleaning rice, sorting seeds, transplanting, and harvesting), and I still find weeding cathartic and therapeutic, as well as harvesting (getting to see the product) and planting (knowing that you are giving life). I taught yoga for the first time, which not only made me feel physically good but the overwhelmingly positive feedback from the class has inspired me to want to become a yoga teacher when I return home! Most importantly, however, while at Navdanya, I’ve realized that my own mindset and attitudes have changed since I left for my trip. I think that before the Watson, in the comfort of college and my extracurricular involvement in Slow Food, I was easily swayed and convinced that local, organic, small-scale, traditional, and simple living is the most desirable. However, at Navdanya, I found myself annoyed with people who “just want to live simply” and seem opposed to anything remotely modern, globalized, and change-oriented. Deep down, I want those same things, but I also don’t think we can ignore the other side, which I often found myself defending. I don’t think I would have found myself in this position last Spring, though I hadn’t realized it until I was surrounded by people who seem brainwashed – it’s a huge step for me. I want to continue to ask tough questions in the future and not complacently accept the “easy” answer, whichever side it may fall on.
After Navdanya, I made my way to the state of Punjab, the birthplace of the Green Revolution (GR) and the granary or breadbasket of India (though it is now known as the cancer state from overexposure to agro-chemicals). Initially unplanned or rather a “Plan B,” I am so glad I fit Punjab into the itinerary and felt like my knowledge and experience were profoundly enriched. It even turned out to be one of my favorite places in India: the state is mostly Sikh religion (think turbans and long beards), the food here is divine, and I am officially obsessed with Indian clothes and need to stop buying them. Here I was able to speak with two young girls who lost their fathers to debt-related farmer suicide, and my most memorable visit was with a young farmer who is experimenting with organic. It’s a difficult transition, I am realizing more and more. He told me stories of how his neighbors think he’s crazy for growing vegetables, when they just grow rice and wheat with government support. They laugh at him when he rides his bicycle 11 km to the nearby town to sell at the market. Even his own mother asks, “why are you doing this rubbish?”
Agriculture in Punjab feels contradictory: prosperous and tragic. Some farmers are producing huge yields (with the help of subsidies and chemicals), while others are stuck in a debt trap and resort to suicide. They know about the ill-health effects of chemicals but are willing to take the risk for menial profit. I have also come to understand the inherent paradox to mechanization: on the one hand, it displaces labor and forces farmers off their land; on the other hand, it relieves farmers from drudgery and has the potential to incentivize youth to come back to the land. Thus agricultural technology has the potential to assist farmers if it is implemented appropriately, which is where the term “appropriate technology” comes in. Even though my stay was just a little more than a week, I feel like I’ve learned so much and that I am being challenged in all directions. For better or worse, organic farming is not as simple as it seems. Those who try it do not have the support of family, community or government. They are like salmon swimming upstream to spawn – against all odds, trying their best. Even just weeding for a couple of hours, I can see how it might be tempting for farmers to simply spray pesticides and herbicides on their fields instead of backbreaking, monotonous labor. I think that it is so simple to romanticize organic but in reality, it’s just not that easy – labor is expensive, making compost and biopesticides is labor and time intensive, the government does not support it, and there are no assured markets. So I am coming to many realizations here and also trying to push aside my inherent biases and preconceived notions.
After my stay in Punjab, I felt more prepared to attend the World Agricultural Forum Congress in Hyderabad, which was supposed to focus on smallholder farmers. During the conference, I randomly met another female delegate who offered to host me for four days at her home. She helped me dress in saris for the Congress gala dinners, and one night, we even rode to the venue on her scooter, an incredible experience, zooming through the crowded streets of Hyderabad, riding sidesaddle in a flowing sari on the back of her motorbike. The wind whipped through my hair (on a helmetless head, mind you) and ruffled the fabric of the traditional dress (which I was careful to tie up so that it wouldn’t catch). India has the power to make me feel so alive. Despite its imperfections and drawbacks, I find myself in love with this country.
Fortunately, the World Agricultural Forum (WAF) 2013 Congress was a significant opportunity for me to engage, learn, and collaborate with a variety of stakeholders in the global farming system, ranging from industry leaders to politicians and farmers to academics. There was also deep irony in that one of my hosts (a scholar and activist) and his colleagues withdrew their invitations to speak at the Congress, held a press conference/rally at the fair, and made demands for the state government to withdraw support, all in protest of the corporate-dominated agenda. Essentially, I am discouraged and tired of hearing the same rhetoric on opposing sides: the organic movement critiques MNCs and the industry for exploiting small farmers and on the other hand, industry says that privatization, technology, and modern inputs are going to be the saving grace of small farmers. I feel pulled in opposite directions and seek a neutral opinion, as both ends of the spectrum articulate and support their arguments eloquently and compellingly. While I acknowledge that all stakeholders have their own values and agendas, I like to think that everyone wants the same thing and that it is just a matter of how we achieve these collective goals without letting vested interests get in the way.
Moving on to two weeks in Vidarbha, the farmer suicide belt of India. Again, it was quite the whirlwind tour of dryland farming in this marginally productive area. I spent time with Subhash Palekar, founder of the Zero Budget Spiritual Farming movement in India. Although I commend Palekar’s efforts to mobilize a mass movement of farmers who are saying no to market dependence and uplifting themselves through proactive measures, I am extremely skeptical of his conspiracy theorist tendencies (he recently published a book titled, “Is Organic Farming a Conspiracy?”). Though he did raise one excellent point, which further motivates me to take up farming as an occupation and lifestyle at some point in my future:
“All these techniques and principles of organic farming are introduced by those intellectuals in society who are not practicing farming, they do not know how to plough or harrow the soil; how to sow the seeds, how to harvest with their own hands. They don’t know the actual problems, which the farmers are facing.”
On the model farm visits, I was able to see impressive yields and incomes, content farmers, and generally successful operations. It made realize that seeing is believing for farmers who have not yet phased out chemicals.
After the tours, I found myself in the town of Yavatmal. During my 7+ farm visits, I saw firsthand how technology definitely does not mean progress. I was able to contrast Punjabi farmers who have the most modern technology (which demands monoculture) with marginal dryland farmers in Vidarbha who, without access to irrigation or high tech machines, are intercropping cotton and pigeon pea for nitrogen fixation. In my mind, this mixed cropping and lack of mechanization is actually much more “progressive.” It was powerful and depressing being in the birthplace of cotton where farmers don’t understand the BT GMO technology and are killing themselves, coexisting alongside farmers who very much recognize the flaws and are avoiding the system. The Director of the Centre of Sustainable Agriculture aptly told me, “Where we thought and assumed that technology was not available it was the other way round. The suicides were a result of technology failure.” It was a poignant moment attending a farmer meeting where I asked them if they know about the genetic modification technology behind BT Cotton and when they replied “no,” hearing it explained to them for the first time. Ultimately, my time in Vidarbha was dominated by both theoretical and practical learning, as well as stark visual comparisons. I received a basic lesson in watershed development; an explanation of pesticide management techniques (comparing integrated pest management (IPM), non-pesticidal management (NPM), and Insecticide Resistance Management (IRM)); and the importance of data-driven studies directly comparing organic and chemical farming systems.
And I can’t think of a better way to wrap up my research in India than visiting the MS Swaminathan Research Foundation in Chennai. Almost since the beginning of my time in India, I had been hoping to meet and interview Dr. MS Swaminathan himself. He is known as the “Father of the Green Revolution in India” and worked with the late and former Prime Minister Indira Gandhi in the 1960s to double India’s grain production, transforming the hungry nation from food insecure to a self-sufficient net exporter. Dr. Swaminathan is a bit of a foodie/ag celebrity in my mind, so I was shocked and exhilarated when his secretary was able to arrange an interview. Although he just celebrated his 88th birthday, he is still very much young at heart. My time at MSSRF was useful because of the overall balanced approach to these issues. Dr. Swaminathan summed up very well that everyone has to devise their own thoughts on new developments and technologies, but it should not be based upon emotions, ideology, whims, or other people’s flimsy opinions but rather data-driven, independent science. Furthermore, there is no magic bullet solution to the agrarian crisis – as Dr. Swaminathan said, “organic is not the panacea for everything” (and neither are GMOs). Yes, sustainable agroecological farming may hold the answer to many of our problems, but perhaps it really does entail some integrated approaches (i.e. not ruling out external inputs, chemicals, and hybrid seeds all together) – honestly, I really don’t know. And as stated before, I’ve spent my fair share of time with conspiracy theorists and ideology-driven people on both ends of the spectrum: comparing the March Against Monsanto global protest, which I attended in New Delhi in October, with the corporate-laden World Agricultural forum is a stark contrast. However, I finally feel like neutral voices are coming through. Lastly, I asked Dr. Swaminthan what his advice would be for an aspiring young person such as myself and he said: “My advice would be don’t go by slogans, emotions, or because somebody says, ‘this is bad. That is bad.’ Apply your own mind,” which is exactly what I am attempting to do this year.
I finished my time in India by taking side trips to Varanasi and Darjeeling, which made me feel like I am teetering on the edge of being a tourist and an inhabitant. By no means do I claim to be an expert in Indian culture or to have any true comprehension of the crisis of poverty and hardship here, but I do feel like I have been able to closely observe and experience the beautifully rich culture (e.g. politics, food, dress etc.) through my rural and urban homestays. I also acknowledge that I am much closer to a tourist, but my quotidian activities feel far from touristy. That being said, I become disoriented when I meet other travelers, since it has been a very long time since I’ve encountered them. I realize that this fellowship and all of its independent glory allow me to intimately and genuinely interact with communities and issues that would most certainly be inaccessible if I were a merely a tourist or in a group. This distinction was further highlighted by the fact that I was able to go to Bhutan on a non-tourist Visa. By working with the Ministry of Agriculture’s National Organic Program, I bypassed the $250 per day tariff and got off the beaten path, going places that tourists are not allowed. Without the Watson, this would have most certainly been impossible, so thank you.
Bhutan. What can I say about this amazing little Himalayan kingdom? One that makes up for its lack of size in natural beauty and personality, and the first country in the world to declare the goal of 100% organic agriculture. It is called the Land of the Thunder Dragon or the “Last Shangri-la” for its remoteness and cultural preservation, but I would rather call it the “Land of the Unexpected.” For instance, I’ve eaten more meat in the last week than the last six months combined and Bhutanese are Buddhist, meaning they shun the killing of animals and thus I expected them to be largely vegetarian. Not to say that I didn’t thoroughly enjoy the yak burger or wild boar, but my stomach is overwhelmed and confused. Moreover, I honestly thought that coming to Bhutan, a country that was an absolute monarchy until 2008, that uses Gross National Happiness (GNH) alongside GDP as an index of growth, where Internet and TV didn’t come until 1999, a national traditional dress code is required in government offices, and all buildings must conform to the national architecture, would be true cultural immersion into a pristinely traditional society. Instead being in the capital city of Thimphu felt more like home than anything in the last 6 months: a shower with running hot water, eating pasta and tomato sauce for dinner, watching a Pixar animated film on a flat screen TV, going to a bar to listen to acoustic covers of American bands – all in the company of my new Bhutanese friends who are part of the growing urban, middle class.
Yet I quickly found myself in a truck going 6 hours south, mentally preparing for a short stay with a farming family. During this drive, I once again re-boarded the time machine and have since been jolted out of both time and space. Practicing milking a cow, churning butter, making cheese, weeding the broccoli patch, harvesting yams, maintaining the vermicompost, transplanting, and seeing the water mill were just a few of the activities. I imagine this is how it would have been living in Old Sturbridge Village, a popular field trip site during elementary school where people would dress up in colonial-era clothes and churn butter for an audience of restless schoolchildren. Except this isn’t 18th century New England – this is 2013 in rural Bhutan in a village where electricity didn’t come until last year.
Over three weeks, I did four farmer homestays, saw five Dzongkhags (districts), and conducted 28 interviews/visits with a variety of stakeholders. Through these enriching experiences, I have come to understand many things. For instance, Bhutan may still be attempting to scale up to 100% organic, but this doesn’t actually seem to be the hard part. In reality, the country is facing a number of other unique challenges, namely related to its dramatic topography, varying climate, and sparse population. The issue is not that farmers are dependent on chemical inputs for farming or are at the whim of multinational corporations such as Monsanto, as is the situation in much of India. In contrast, one of the major problems is very poor road infrastructure, which limits marketing options for farmers, keeping most in a subsistence lifestyle. Moreover, fragmentation has led to even smaller land holdings and even those minute acres are often mountainous, difficult to cultivate, and nearly impossible to mechanize. And the lack of both export and domestic markets dis-incentivizes farmers from scaling up to commercial production.
Unlike India and many other countries in the world, the Bhutanese government plays an extremely large role in the agricultural system with most areas entirely nationalized and minimal privatization. There seems to be genuine concern for farmer welfare on behalf of the state and the necessary oversight, though perhaps too much in some cases. At the National Biodiversity Center, I was told about efforts to promote biodiversity and traditional seeds through value addition and marketing of local products; of the importance of appropriate technology at the Agriculture Mechanization Center; post-harvest storage and processing for preservation and value addition at the National Post Harvest Center; different methods of pest, disease, and weed control at the National Plant Protection Center; various nutrient management techniques at the National Soil Services Center; and aims to promote food self-sufficiency through improved seed varieties at the National Seed Center. I also observed first-hand the potential for private business through the eyes and experiences of a young entrepreneur; about struggles with improved methods such as System of Rice Intensification from farmers, extension officers, and department directors; and efforts to support farming through academic conduits at the secondary school and university level.
After an enjoyable week living with four different farming families, attending a Bhutanese wedding (the first wedding in my life! I can add this to the list of the unexpected), conducting nine farmer interviews, and gaining hands on experience in farming, I found myself back in the capital city of Thimphu. And it was perfect and just in time for a very special guest: Andre Leu, President of IFOAM (International Federation of Organic Agriculture Movements headquartered in Bonn, Germany). Andre was visiting Bhutan to do a seminar for Ministry of Agriculture executives, including the Minister himself. Obviously, I was not expecting this, so it was a wonderful surprise and remarkable way to celebrate the six-month mark on the Watson Fellowship. The most poignant part of his seminar, titled “Achieving Food Security with Science-Based High Yielding Organic Agriculture in Bhutan,” was that modern organic agriculture is not the same as the low-yield, backbreaking farming of the past. He noted that today, organic agriculture combines tradition with innovation and science by focusing on ecological processes, biodiversity, and local cycles. An exciting “Aha” moment for me: I think organic farming may be one of the answers I have been looking for all along: how to marry traditional indigenous wisdom with modern science and technologies for improved agriculture.
Like Dr. Swaminathan, Andre also emphasized the deep need to remove dogma from the organic discussion and instead promote science. In a balanced and realistic approach, he introduced me to concepts such as Ecological Function Intensification. He did some myth-busting about organic with well defined arguments as to why yields do not have to go down, the potential for small-farm income generation, and the prospective for participatory guarantee system (PGS) certification in lieu of an expensive third party scheme. It was a striking moment hearing the Minister of Agriculture himself admit that the presentation was eye opening and to observe ministry employees show both the resistance and eagerness to move forward on the national organic plan. Thus, the last major unexpected aspect of Bhutan: during my interviews, I felt some clear reservations and doubt within much of the ministry with regard to the 100% organic plan, as many individuals argued for integrated pest and nutrient management systems that utilize chemical inputs as a last resort.
So now, as I prepare to embark on my next Watson journey, this time to the Bolivian Altiplano, where I hope to spend the next three months learning about quinoa, I will leave you with visions of Bhutan:
As I sleep and wake to the rhythms of the Earth, it’s like heaven here. It feels like I am closer to the sky, within kissing distance as the clouds engulf the lush and verdant hillside. Today, while harvesting pole beans, the sun’s rays pierced through and peaked out over the impending clouds, as if the Gods were splitting open the heavens with a triton of sunshine. The air is so crisp and fresh; life just seems to make sense. I am not saying that a rural existence is easy, but it is logical. The Earth is ready to give us so much – why not borrow it as long as we give back? For instance, harnessing and mimicking nature through vermicompost or water-powered mills – these simple schemes are low cost and environmentally sound. I am truly amazed by the productivity of such a small landholding: 30 crops on one acre – the way the fields are just bursting with life in an abundance of fruits and vegetables. The feeling of having fresh compost slip through my fingers or the snap of the stem when picking beans. To some degree, I crave self-sufficiency and I hope that I can take some of these lessons home: the slowing down and letting the seasons and daylight be my timekeepers.
Thank you again for everything and best wishes for a Happy New Year,
Lauren
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