The democratic and sacred nature of agriculture (Environment, Develop. and Sustainability, 27 Sept. 2011)
Abstract: “Sustainable” agriculture is
a relative recent invention. It is a salvage operation designed to undo some of
the harm of agribusiness, which nearly wiped out farming as a way of life.
Sustainable agriculture tries to restore methods of farming and values that
satisfy present needs for food without compromising the food for future
generations. Sustainable farming, however, remains experimental and on the
fringes of society and science. It includes all kinds of farming practiced by
peasants, small-scale family farmers, organic farmers as well as large farmers.
In what follows, I am showing, first, farming is or becomes sustainable when
two things prevail: First, it is democratic, spread throughout the land in the
form of family farming while the difference in size among farms is modest at
best. Second, farming is sustainable when it draws its inspiration and methods
not merely from the most advanced ecological science but from ancient agrarian
cultures. I briefly highlight the case of ancient Greek farming as having the
virtues of sustainability: that of equity and democracy. In our times, however,
agribusiness and animal farming, fail the criteria of sustainability.
Keyworlds: democracy, industrialization,
agribusiness, large farms, sustainability, sacred agriculture, organic farming,
animal farms, nature
1. Introduction
The dust bowl of the
1930s is symbolic of the violence unleashed in rural America and the rest of
the world by industrialized farming, mechanizing what used to be a way of life
on the land into a factory for the extraction of profits. Industrialized
agriculture found expression in large farms and agribusiness. Both of these
forms of farming are incompatible with democracy.
2. Discussion
Walter Goldschmidt,
an anthropologist working for the US Department of Agriculture, USDA, brought
to light in the early 1940s the deleterious political effects of large farms
and agribusinesses. He documented the undoing or rural America by agribusiness:
When, for instance, large farms / agribusiness surrounded a town, there was a
precipitous decline in the quality of life; schools, churches, stores and
culture would be left to fend for themselves. The town would attract transient
people, shrinking and becoming a slum-like subsidiary of the large farms
(Goldschmidt 1947, 1978).
USDA fired
Goldschmidt and the country refused to take him seriously. The feeble attempts
in the US Senate in the mid-1970s to put a break in the path of the
agribusiness colossus did not go very far. USDA never ceased lavishing
America’s large farmers with gold.
In 1983, another
researcher, Dean MacCannell, professor of rural sociology at the University of
California-Davis, issued a severe warning that repeated and complemented the
findings and warning of Walter Goldschmidt: Size of farms matters in
agriculture. Large farms destroy rural America. MacCannell said agribusiness
policies “cut against the grain of traditional American values.” His studies
showed that giant farmers were becoming America’s “neo-feudal” lords who, with
government assistance, were converting rural America into a Third World of
poverty, injustice, exploitation and oppression. When large farms are in or
near small farm communities, he says, they ruin the rural communities, sucking
all life out of them: “In the place of towns which could accurately be
characterized as providing their residents with clean and healthy environment,
a great deal of social equality and local autonomy,” he explains, “we find
agricultural pollution, labor practices that lead to increasing social
inequality, restricted opportunity to obtain land and start new enterprise, and
the suppression of the development of local middle class and the business and
services demanded by such a class” (MacCannell 1983).
In 1990, Linda Lobao
of Ohio State University published the results of her sociological study on the
effects of industrialized farming on rural communities. Her data came from
3,000 US counties. In 2006, Curtis Stofferahn of the University of North Dakota
updated the work of Lobao. In summarizing the findings from 50 years of social
science research, he reached the following conclusions: Industrialized
agriculture “disrupts the social fabric of communities… poses environmental
threats where livestock production is concentrated; and is likely to create a
new pattern of ‘haves and have nots’” (Stofferahn 2006).
The middle class has
always been the heart of democracy. The most lasting of the effects of the
industrialization of farming include the decline of democracy, poisoned water
and food, high rates of debilitating disease and death from poisoning,
monstrous malformations of the newborn, higher rates of cancer in both farmers,
other rural residents, and wildlife, the drastic decline of the small white
family farmers and the near disappearance of the black family farmers whose
numbers dropped from 925,710 in 1920 to less than 18,000 in the year 2000. This
was a catastrophic decline of 98 percent (Vallianatos 2006, pp. 197-212).
USDA undermined
black farmers in America. It also diminished the lives of the small white
family farmers, never ceasing telling them to get big or get out. Its advice
was wrong most of the times. Its science was mostly a technology of production,
which it gold-plated with lavish subsidies, research, and policies designed to
benefit the large farmers. Sowing pro-agribusiness seeds in rural America did
bring forth the desired harvest – a few thousand giant companies and large
farmers producing so much that, even with subsidies for the medium and small
farmers, they sell their grains and food at prices that fail to match their
costs of production. One by one, family farmers “go out of business,” leaving
behind them an empty and devastated rural America.
A positive development
in American agriculture is the expanding frontier of organic farming, America’s
contribution to sustainable agriculture. Organic or biological farmers raise
food by blending traditional knowledge and ecological wisdom (Vallianatos
2006). Organic food production has been growing by at least 20 percent per
year. Sales of organic products, including non-food, earned $ 1 billion in 1990
and about $ 24.6 billion in 2008 (Laux 2009).
Conventional farmers
either disappear or blend into the complex of agribusiness. Some of the
surviving small family farmers make it as “hobby” farmers. Others have no
option but becoming the modern equivalent of Medieval serfs, earning about $
10,000 per year. Researchers politely describe them as “contract” workers,
laboring for a handful of agribusiness companies. Several of those companies
are meat factories that produce bacon burgers and chicken nuggets while, at the
same time, they are “among the nation’s largest polluters” (Silverstein 1999).
Carl Buckingham Koford, an American ecologist decried,
in 1958, the barbaric habit of ranchers, farmers, and government agencies of
using sodium fluoroacetate, a chemical known largely by a number, 1080, to
exterminate wildlife, especially beneficial rodents. “Aside from killing prairie
dogs,” Koford says, “continuous distribution of compound 1080 has had other
effects on animal communities. The chemical is extremely toxic and kills other
grain-eating mammals, such as cottontails. The poison is stable, even in animal
tissue, so that carnivores which feed on poisoned rodents are often killed.
Coyotes (Canis latrans) have
nearly disappeared from the plains because of secondary poisoning. In addition,
application of poison brings about a cataclysmic alteration in the relative
populations of different mammals, followed by various coactions between species
and changes in their effects on plants and soils” (Koford 1960, p.340).
Spreading poison in dog towns was
annihilation to more than the dogs that ate the poison. Just like rural towns
fall apart when their family farmers go under, so does the community of wild
animals around a prairie dog town go to pieces when prairie dogs get into
trouble. Koford’s affection for prairie dogs was the affection of a biologist
who understood nature. Rodents, he said, were a beneficial species to man. They
improved the soil and checked unwanted plants and shrubs. They were food to
other animals, and enlivened the scenery. What more could we expect of any
animal?
In addition, is it
not wrong to destroy millions of small family farmers in America and Europe,
and take the land away from countless millions of peasants in the Third World?
And what about the slaughter and extinction of wildlife following the massive
machinery and toxins of this mechanical agriculture? Rachel Carson, a
biologist, denounced the massive poisonous sprays used with complete abandon in
the United States. In fact, Carson was convinced toxic sprays threatened the
natural world; hence she spoke about the coming of “silent spring” (Carson
1962; Shepard and McKinley 1969). Moreover, these sprays are probably
responsible for many of the cancers killing millions of humans (Sherman 2000;
Epstein 2005; Davis 2007). Philip Shabecoff, former reporter for the New York
Times, accused the chemical industry for a “toxic assault” on America’s
children (Shabecoff 2008).
In addition, farms
and plantations appropriate most of the world’s freshwaters (McCully 1996;
Lohan 2008). The international peasant and family farmer civil society
organization, Via Campesina, says that it is this giant agriculture that is
pushing family farmers and peasants throughout the world to the brink of
“irredeemable extinction” (Via Campesina 1996).
We need to globalize
the peasants’ hopes and stop the war against them. Our conflict is with those
who clear the forest and “produce” cash crops. They are incapable or unwilling
to understand that the roots of African hunger lie deep in the structure of the
most persistent of colonial institutions in the continent—the export out of
sub-Saharan Africa of plantation agricultural cash crops to the markets of
Europe and North America. Such agricultural exports are bad for democracy and
the land, concentrating political power in a few hands and impoverishing
Africa’s traditional food and agricultural economy. Scrapping that colonial
model of development—cash cropping -- for a healthier and stronger peasant
economy is bound to invigorate both democracy and the raising of food for local
consumption (Vallianatos 2001).
A stronger peasant
society is also a precondition for population control. Doubling the number of
people every 25 years or so in the fashion of African countries is catastrophic
to everything the peasants want: food, shelter, and security. A peasant-driven
development strategy is certain to heal both the wretchedness of
over-population and restore Africa to her values—give the best land of Africa
back to the peasant and bring into the field and the village the fabulous
biological and cultural diversity and wisdom of traditional farming.
This did not happen
because the powerful of the world, America and the Soviet Union / Russia, used
Africa to test their theories for global hegemony. They also “domesticated”
nature by breaking it apart. The Soviet Union destroyed the Aral Sea in the
1950s for the production of irrigated cotton—in one of the most dramatic and
violent ecological crimes of the twentieth century. The United States ploughed
up its Great Plains for the industrial production of cattle, wheat, and corn.
The result of sodbusting the fragile prairies was biological warfare against
millions of buffaloes and genocide against the Native American people who
relied on the buffalo for their survival and culture (Stannard 1992). Moreover,
farming the semiarid Great Plains brought that vast region on the verge of a
cataclysm, massive dust bowls in the 1930s, the 1950s and 1970s threatening to
swallow farms, machinery, crops, and people (Worster 1979).
Yet the United
States failed to do more than cosmetic changes in the political economy of the
prairies or the policies of the country in addressing the root cause of the
dust storms and desertification in the Great Plains, namely industrial ranching
and one-crop factory farming in particular. In addition, the plantations of
America’s Great Plains are using the ground water of the great Ogallala aquifer
with abandon. The United Nations Environment Programme says that America’s
Great Plains are going through “another form of desertification - groundwater
depletion” (Middleton and Thomas 1997, p. 154).
It’s the same cruel
plantation politics all over the vast southwestern region of the United States.
Agribusiness and large farmers in California and Arizona pump groundwater 10 or
more times the rate nature recharges aquifers. The Colorado River—a water highway
1,400 miles long starting from the Colorado Mountains and ending in Mexico and
the Sea of Cortez—is without doubt the lifeblood of the arid southwestern
United States and northwestern Mexico. It brings water to about 30 million
people and irrigates more than 3.7 million acres of agricultural land in both
the United States and Mexico. Yet this life-giving river has to contend with an
exceedingly brutal shackling of its nature and waters—no less than 29 dams
capture its might and every drop of its water, which rarely reaches the Sea of
Cortez (Reisner 1990).
The same people who
drink the entire Colorado River, particularly the practitioners of giant
agriculture in arid southwestern United States, convert forested wetlands and
uplands to pine forests, cotton plantations, or other cash crop farms. Such
conversion of nature from ecosystems to industrial systems wipes out
biodiversity and kills wildlife on both land and water. New Mexico, Texas,
Louisiana, Arkansas and Oklahoma, for example, destroy 30,000 acres of wetlands
and uplands every year for pine plantations alone. Huge amounts of poisons are
used for the maintenance of those plantations (US EPA 1996; Dugan 1993; Wallace
1987).
It’s the
globalization of this model of agricultural plantation of power, camouflaged
under the image of science, which threatens the world’s ecology and cultures.
Millions of farmers / peasants throughout the world are repeating the
experience of the industrialized or “green revolution” farmers with the result
of increasing violence and agrarian wars, landlessness, and hunger (Vallianatos
1976). In addition, countless millions of acres of good land have been made
into desert. The more land goes to agribusiness production or cash cropping,
the more acute pressures are exerted against poor people trying to survive.
Landless peasants—like those of Mexico, India or Africa—do cut down forests,
and in other desperate ways, degrade the land that gives them life (Jordan
2001).
Fortunately,
alternatives to the anti-democratic farming exist both in the United States and
in every other society in the world. These alternatives included in the tent of
sustainable agriculture -- biodynamic agriculture, organic farming,
community-supported agriculture, biological agriculture, peasant or ecological
farming – are forms of applied biology that have nature as their primary model.
They are desired biological pathways to family agriculture (Hodges 1982), which
has the potential to heal some of the wounds of industrial agriculture (Horrigan,
Lawrence and Walker 2002). All these methods of raising food—and the indigenous
people, peasants, and small family farmers who practice them—share a respect
for the land and the people who eat what they raise on that land. This means
they follow ancient traditions of agrarian knowledge and practice, and some
even merge that heritage with the latest in agroecological thinking about
agriculture (Altieri 1995).
3. Ancient Greek democratic
and sacred farming
Borrowing knowledge
from our ancient traditions appeals to me because I am the son of Greek culture
that formed the foundations of Western civilization. In addition, I grew up in
a self-reliant peasant family. We raised all of our food: wheat, barley,
lentils, olive oil, wine. We also had small flocks of sheep and goat.
My ancient Greek
ancestors farmed the same land my father raised our food. They worked hard.
They raised food knowing fully well that they depended on the gods for their
success. The Greek farmer also watched carefully the seasons, the risings and
settings of the stars and the phases of the moon, all of them vital for
farming. Besides, the stars and the moon and the sun were gods.
Peasant farmers, not
philosophers, invented democracy. Greek thinkers like Platon (c.427-347 BCE)
and Aristoteles (384-322 BCE) had no doubt agriculture was at the center of
Greek life. They also knew that land made Greek history, being the most
important factor for the expansion of Greece outside of Greece. And inside
poleis the equitable distribution of land determined the success or failure of
state and society.
For example, in the
sixth century BCE, Athenian farmers owning excessive amounts of land enslaved
farmers who owned very little amounts of land because the small farmers could
not pay back their loans. Such harsh treatment brought Athens on the verge of
civil war. But rather than fight battles, Athenians decided to give their
government to Solon, a former archon (chief political leader) and man of
integrity and trust. They asked him to end the deadlock in the countryside.
Solon forgave all private and public debts and forbade Athenians to ever
enslave a fellow citizen on account of debt. He stopped the export of food except
for olive oil. But Solon went further than bringing some security and peace
in the countryside. He encouraged fathers to teach their sons a trade and made
it easier for skilled craftsmen to settle in Athens and the Athenian
countryside, Attike. According to Aristoteles, Solon secured democracy in
Athens by giving supreme power to the courts. In addition, he gave sovereignty
to the people to elect officials and to have oversight over their activities.
Officials came from the ranks of men of property (Aristoteles, Politics 1273b35 – 127411-21;
Ploutarchos, Solon 24.1-2).
Greeks controlled
farm size, realizing how important relative equity was for the health of their
democracy and society. Platon did not think it fair for any farmer to own a
piece of land that was more than four times the average-sized farm (Platon, The
Laws 744), which was, in most instances, about five acres or less. Some
poleis ignored land equity, risking peace at home and trouble with their
neighbors. Aristoteles reports the Spartans esteemed wealth. Land in Sparta was
in the hands of the few, indeed, Spartan women, who indulged in all kinds of
luxury, owned two-fifths of all the private land (Aristoteles, Politics 1269b12-1270a11-33). Greek
states, including Sparta, did not allow the privatization of all land. Enough
of the land belonged to the state for the support of the religious festivals,
the sacrificial meals and the funding of the temples honoring the gods. In most
instances, the Greeks enjoyed the fruits of their farming together (Burford
1993, p. 25).
Next the gods were
in the crops and fields of the Greeks. Demeter, sister of Zeus, the supreme of
the Greek gods, was the goddess of wheat. She and her daughter, Persephone, the
goddess of the spring, sent a young prince, Triptolemos, around the world
teaching people the art of agriculture. Athena, daughter of Zeus, gave the
Athenians the olive tree. Dionysos, son of Zeus, brought to Greece the grape
vine and wine. Pan protected the flocks of sheep, goat, pigs and cattle and
Artemis protected the entire natural world. Zeus was the god of thunder and
rain. The Eleusinian mysteries was the Greeks’ greatest religious festival. It
took place during the sowing of the crops so that the honored gods, Demeter and
Dionysos, would bless those crops for good harvest.
4. Ecological wisdom in
peasant farming
Just like the
Greeks, indigenous people and peasants have detailed knowledge of nature. Their
religion, just like the religion of ancient Greeks, is a spiritual form of
farming – pleading to the gods to bring them a good harvest. Their
celebrations, their fiestas, are prayers of enjoyment to their gods for their
ancestors, animals, crops, harvest, the dead and the living. Indigenous people
in the Philippines consider the land a gift of the gods. And land in the
savannah grasslands of the Upper East region of Ghana is a sanctuary for the
gods. The Dai people of southwest China protect and preserve sacred groves
where they worship their gods – exactly like the ancient Greeks. The Dayak
Pasir Adang people live in East Borneo, Indonesia, and practice sacred farming.
If their reading of nature is auspicious, they use fire for clearing the land
in order to plan their crops. They don’t destroy or burn fruit-bearing trees or
ground that has the graves of their ancestors. They sow seeds of spinach,
bitter brassica, corn, and cucumber. But the most sacred of seeds and agrarian
traditions of the Dayak Pasir Adang people are rice seeds and their
cultivation. They place the first rice seeds in holes, each with a special name
– father, mother, captain, and guardian. The community sows and harvests the
rice. At harvest time, men, women, and children work together. They sing and
pray to the gods. The unhusked rice grains that will become the seed for the
next growing season are cleaned first, and, then, the rest of the rice grains
are trampled and dried in the sun for two to three days. Finally, the rice is
thrown in the air, its chaff and impurities blown away. In the same tradition
of sacred farming, the Mende rice peasants of southern and eastern Sierra Leone
use rice varieties best adapted to the ecological conditions of their land and
region. And since rice is a self-pollinating crop, the Mende peasants do the
shifting and choosing of rice seeds coming their way, in the rice fields, and
next door in nature. They revere their ancestors for the rice bounty they left
them. But they no more feel they own the rice varieties they developed than
they own the breeze. Yet they are experts in combining and selecting seeds for
their way of life, which is sacred agriculture. “Maybe,” says Paul Richards, a
British scholar on African traditional farming, “it makes more sense to
concentrate on enriching the gene pool, leaving local talent to do the rest.
Forget the Green Revolution. Treat local myths seriously. Charter a plane and
scatter duplicates of the international rice gene bank collections to the four
winds” (Richards 1999).
Paul Richards is
right. The Mende peasants are the real experts and best guardians of rice
genetic diversity. The Dai’s sacred groves or Holy Hills or Nong are rich in
agricultural biodiversity. The Dai peasants, and peasants in the rest of the
world, use a tremendous variety of plants for food, fiber, and medicine.
The ethnobotanical
knowledge of several indigenous people is remarkable. The Tzeltals and the
Purepechas of Mexico recognize more than 1,200 and 900 plants respectively. It
was from that careful study and understanding of the workings of nature that
traditional farming came into being. Crop mixtures with animals, crops grown
with trees near or within a forest, make up a traditional farming system.
Mixing plants and animals is good farming because, together, they fertilize the
land and keep pests under control. Crop mixtures attract insect predators and
parasites that keep hostile insects and weeds in check. In addition, the
traditional seeds of the peasant have a greater resistance to disease. Farm
animals (hogs, chicken, cattle) give the peasant milk, meat, and draft power
while they eat weeds and crop residues recycling them into protein and manure
for the land.
The Chiapas
peasants, who are fighting for survival, raise two tons of maize per hectare
while the industrialized farmer next door produces six tons of maize per
hectare. For this reason, the agricultural experts call the peasants backward
and insist they leave the land or adopt the methods of the mechanical
plantation. Yet the industrialized farmer gets nothing more from his land but
the six tons of corn, though in the United States, the industrialized farmer
gets more than 9 tons of corn per hectare per year. The Chiapas peasant,
however, grows not merely maize but, along with maize, he raises beans, squash
and pumpkins, sweet potatoes, tomatoes and other vegetables and fruits and
medicinal herbs. Some of his food the peasant sells for cash and the rest is for
his family, chicken, and cattle. The Chiapas peasant “easily produces more than
fifteen tons of food per hectare and all without commercial fertilizers or
pesticides and no assistance from banks or governments or transnational
corporations" (Lutzenberger 1998).
The harvest of such a sowing of
traditional knowledge and practice is predictably good for civil society
organizations that work with peasant or small family farmer communities,
sometimes reviving and protecting their culture. Civil society organizations
also make it possible for some small farmers to move away from the one-crop
chemical and mechanical model of raising food. They help them return to their
own agrarian traditions of planting a variety of crops at the same time,
rotating forage and food crops, forest and fruit trees, rebuilding their
terraces, using cover crops to smother weeds and fertilize their hillside
plots, planting trees.
In Peru, a
pre-Columbian high-altitude farming method of raised fields (waru-waru) in the
midst of water ditches was responsible for bumper crops of potatoes, quinoa,
amaranth and oca (wood sorrel), better diet, better incomes, and healthier and
more resilient land (National Research Council 1989). This waru-waru farming
system of the Andes – with its canals for water, terraces, and raised fields –
is a very productive and sophisticated method of growing food in a harsh
environment. The water in the canals slowly percolates to the raised fields.
That way it moderates the temperature of the land and prevents the frost from
hurting the growing crops. The peasants use the silt, sediment, and organic
residues in the ditches to fertilize their vegetables or crops.
Raised-bed farming
was a widespread agricultural practice not merely in Peru but throughout pre-Columbian
Central and South America. In Mexico, raised-bed farming or chinampas had
probably been invented by the Mayas and passed on to the Aztecs. When on
November 8, 1519, Herman Cortes and his Spanish conquistadors entered
Tenochtitlan (Mexico City), the metropolis of the Aztec empire with a
population of 200,000 to 300,000 people, they came in contact with an
advanced and rich indigenous culture that sustained itself from the food grown
on the chinampas. One of Cortes’ soldiers, Bernal Diaz del Castillo, left us an
account of the Spaniards’ destruction of the Mexican Aztec Empire of Montezuma.
Despite his contempt for the Aztecs so he could justify their murder, Bernal
Diaz was impressed by the Aztecs’ cities, their running water, paved streets,
temples, large markets, clothing, organization, gold, silver, abundant wealth.
Diaz saw the chinampas lining the waterways of Tenochtitlan and he thought he
was dreaming. He assigned those gardens to emperor Montezuma; they were so
beautiful, what “with their many varieties of flowers and sweet-scented trees
planted in order, and their ponds and tanks of fresh water into which a stream
flowed at one end and out of which it flowed at the other, and the baths he had
there, and the variety of small birds that nested in the branches, and the
medicinal and useful herbs that grew there. His gardens were a wonderful sight,
and required many gardeners to take care of them. Everything was built of stone
and plastered; baths and walks and closets and rooms like summerhouses where
they danced and sang. There was so much to see in these gardens, as everywhere
else, that we could not tire of contemplating his great riches and the large
number of skilled Indians employed in the many crafts they practiced” (Diaz
1975, p. 231).
The chinampas,
exactly like the waru-waru of Peru, were agricultural islands within lakes and
marshes encircled by shallow water and dense vegetation. These raised beds
produced maize, beans, chilies, tomatoes and fruits in abundance. They were
very productive, allowing continuous cultivation. They were round year gardens.
The chinampas also were an ideal environment for fish and wildfowl and forage
for animals. But the Spanish vented their hatred, jealousy and Christianity and
buried both the chinampas and Aztec Mexico. In one blow the Spanish
conquistadors destroyed Mexico’s prosperous and sacred agriculture (the
chinampas and terrace cultivation) and Mexican culture (Redclift 1987). On
their ruins they built the hacienda or large farm and manned it with the slave
labor of the surviving indigenous people. Industrialized agriculture was the
harvest of hacienda.
When in November
1998 Hurricane Mitch devastated Honduras and northern Nicaragua, the only
region of Honduras that escaped the fury of nature was around the village of
Guarita close to the El Salvador border primarily because the Lenca peasants of
Guarita never changed their farming way of life. The massive rain and wind of
the violent storm barely touched their land since that land is solidly anchored
on the hills with the roots of ancient wisdom and traditional agricultural
practices. The Lenca peasants don’t slash-and-burn their hillside farms. And
neither do they go for the cash cropping methods of farming taught at the
colleges of Honduras in an effort to speed up the country’s modernization.
Instead, they plant their crops under trees, and build terraces to prevent
erosion of the land. They also avoid ploughing but use their traditional
pointed stick for sowing (Gunson 1998). In the same manner, in fighting against
another deadly erosion, peasants have been waging struggles of resistance in
defense of their culture, and struggles of liberation from all colonizers
(Grove 1990). Thus it is almost part of their nature that they create and
maintain crop genetic diversity. Their seeds are not the suicide seeds of
genetic engineers. The seeds of peasants are their culture—ancient, rich in
variety, resilient, tasty, aromatic, dependable for the next sowing and harvest
of food. Says Jonathan King, professor of molecular biology at the
Massachusetts Institute of Technology, “Peasant farmers [in Asia] are
struggling to maintain control over the material basis of their livelihood, the
agricultural crop plant on which they depend. They are also struggling to maintain
control over their culture, as represented in the knowledge of producing and
using rice” (King and Stabinsky 1999, p. 86).
5. Conclusions
The seeds of
peasants are the backbone of plant breeding throughout the world. Some $ 200 to
$ 350 million per year is needed to support gene banks for sharing, on a global
basis, the peasants’ seeds. In Tehran, Iran, in August 2000, representatives of
major plant breeders and biotech companies agreed to pay a portion of the
annual costs for the global peasant seed bank. But in the November 12-17, 2000
international meeting in Neuchatel, Switzerland, the United States objected to
the “tithing” of industry and the global negotiations for the support of the
peasant seed bank collapsed. Europeans and representatives of Africa, Asia, and
Latin America accused the United States for wrecking the world’s food
security. “Most diplomats, most
people,” an Asian diplomat said, “don’t understand how dependent the world’s
food supply is on the flow of plant genetic resources [from the seeds of
peasants]. This is a tempest in our rice bowl – and that’s important!” (Ribeiro
2000).
The seeds of the
industrial farmer have their origins in the seeds of peasants. But because
their genetic structure is perpetually redesigned to meet the needs of
industrialized agriculture, they are poorly adapted to nature, thus they are
genetically uniform, exotic species easily attacked by insects, weeds, and
diseases. They require weapons for survival—synthetic poisons and
fertilizers—not exactly a replacement for the eons-tested peasant seeds.
Moreover,
non-industrialized family farmers and peasants practice not merely good
husbandry but, just as importantly, they and their agriculture are expressions
of agricultural, ecological, and biodiversity principles, social justice,
democracy, and very small-scale farming on the land. In contrast to the
ruthless treatment of both land and rural communities by industrialized
farmers, peasants and small family farmers raise food in ways that enrich the
land and create strong rural society. Peasants in particular are inseparable
from seeds – agricultural genetic diversity. There is simply no alternative to
healthy peasant communities. Seeds for food security survive and thrive only
when peasants have been growing food for a very long time.
Organic farmers in
the United States are not peasants, much less indigenous people, but, to some
degree, they do things like peasants and indigenous people. For instance, to a
large extent, they don’t spray or use synthetic pesticides and fertilizers in
growing their crops. They raise food in such a way that they maintain high
levels of organic matter in the soil, which means their land is healthy,
resisting erosion, capable of conserving nutrients, and absorbing and storing
water. Organic farms also sequester much more carbon dioxide than conventional
farms (Pimentel 2009).
The significance of
organic farming in the US is that it is a third party independent certification
process that starts with land inspections and lab analysis for pesticides,
chemicals and poisons in water, air, eggs, plants, soil, air, animals, milk,
trees, anything, for a period of three years. This revolutionary process was
first put into effect in the state of California with the Foods Act of 1990. This
inspection process continues for a minimum of 3 years until the farm gets
certification; the use of the restricted designation ‘organic’ is then granted
by the State, and, since 2000, by the USDA after it became a federal law. After
the 3 year period, unannounced spot inspections continue. This process is now
in place in the fifty states with the 2000 Organic Foods Act. It is a model of
emulation across the planet. It is as significant a step as flying an airplane
that is certified and inspected vs. flying an aircraft that is not.
The other
significance of organic farming in America is moral and political. For the most
part, organic farmers work small pieces of land and grow food without poisons,
earning a very good living. This neutralizes the lies of the plantation: that
we would starve without pesticides. Organic farmers and non-industrialized
farmers in general all over Europe and North America and, particularly,
peasants in Latin America, Asia, and Africa represent a living
counterrevolution to the factory food and power path of giant agriculture.
However, as we
already suggested, organic farming earns about $ 25 billion a year. This money
makes organic farming an attractive target for agribusiness. Big corporations
are buying into organic farming big time, a clear and present danger that is
becoming a threat. The same age-old ills of corporate greed and corruption,
buyouts and takeovers, are stealing the moral and political gains of organic
farming.
Hugh Iltis, the
American expert on agricultural biological diversity, said correctly we ought
to pay peasants to continue to do what they do so well—protecting the natural
evolution of food seeds without which agriculture would not exist (Iltis 1974).
If, for instance, we could help the peasants of Africa get back to the
cultivation of their enormous variety of crops—which exist in the periphery of
the continent (National Research Council 1996)—it would be humanity’s greatest
gift to the African people. Africans would have enough to eat, food security and
food sovereignty would replace hunger, and the rest of us would know that those
making the transition from cash cropping to sustainable farming could borrow
seeds from Africa for expanding the narrow biological diversity of their
agriculture.
Our organic farmers would be the means by which we
could expand the frontiers of our biological diversity and variety of our
foods, making the unambiguous connection between politics, health, farming and
food possible; in addition, such understanding might help each one of us make
the right moral choice. That way, industrialized agriculture may fade into
oblivion. Only then America’s family farming has a chance to reclaim its
territory and our moral, political, and economic support.
Finally, as I have
suggested, agriculture was sacred to the Greeks. Xenophon, c.428-c.354 BCE,
military man, historian and philosopher from Athens, put it like this: “The man
who said that farming is the mother and nurse of the other arts spoke truly.
When farming is successful, all the other arts prosper, but wherever the earth
is forced to be barren, the other arts, both on earth and sea, are virtually
extinguished” (Xenophon, Oeconomicus 5.20-24). Aristoteles, great Greek
scientist and philosopher, considered nature and agriculture and all animals
indispensable for human existence and culture (Aristoteles, Parts of
Animals 645a). Like other virtues of
Greek culture, Greek farming has the potential of inspiring those building
sustainable agriculture. This ought to hit home especially in Greece that, like
other modern countries, made the error of putting her food security in the
agribusiness basket.
Animal factories, like the
remaking of crops and animals by genetic engineering, represent the worst form
of industrialized agriculture. They break with that tradition. They change the
world of traditional agriculture and culture into a world of injustice and
terror. It’s about time to dispense with such an error and return to democratic
family farming, which is a cousin of the sacred peasant farming. That agrarian
tradition draws from the core values of Greek and Western civilization.
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