Reflections on Agroecology and Social Justice in Malwa-Nimar

Abstract

Recent literature has positioned agroecological transitions as a way of repairing the ‘metabolic and epistemic rift’ brought about by industrial agriculture. Deeper appreciation of the interconnectedness and interpenetration between humans and nature has been at the heart of much thought about agroecology. Social and epistemic justice have been incorporated as almost inherent to the definition of agroecology for many involved in theorising about it worldwide, especially thought coming out of Latin America on ‘emancipatory agroecologies’. In view of the historical inequalities in agriculture in Malwa-Nimar, India, along caste, gender and class lines, this research seeks to explore the extent to which agroecology as currently practiced is emancipatory, and what challenges exist to overcoming structural inequalities. Findings show that, while more privileged farmers are able to find ways to repair the metabolic and position themselves as agents of epistemic change, sustaining their agroecological practice within current economic structures makes them dependent on relationships with labour and networks that may reify historical social and epistemic inequalities. This points to a need to embed the agroecology movement in a larger process of systems change in the region that seeks social-justice-centred rural transformation.

Keywords

Class and inequality gender equity general agriculture rural management

Introduction

Agriculture in Malwa-Nimar, a region of southwestern Madhya Pradesh,¹ has undergone a series of changes during the last several decades over the course of the Green Revolution and later, the Yellow Revolution in oilseed production. At the same time, new forms of agroecology have gained a foothold among growing numbers of farmers who have become dissatisfied with the environmental, economic, health and social impacts of industrialised agriculture. Many individual farmers in Malwa-Nimar have taken initiatives to develop their own forms of agroecological practice and have come together in networks such as an Indore-based sustainable food network. Others have been part of corporate social responsibility (CSR) projects to promote organic farming, non-governmental organisation (NGO)-based agroecology programmes, or more recently, government programmes to support natural farming.

Theorists analysing agroecology movements have described such movements as being not only an effort to heal the relationship between humans and nature, but also to simultaneously foster social and epistemic justice. In view of this, I carried out qualitative research with agroecology movement actors in Madhya Pradesh to learn about their perspectives on the values they seek to enact in their practice. In this article, I will present the insights gained through this research. I found that, while movement actors expressed a vision of healing relationships through their practice, current structures of markets, labour, land ownership, education and social institutions in this region made it challenging for agroecological farmers to challenge historical, and in some cases growing, caste, class and gender hierarchies. This then appeared to limit the extent to which agroecology could fulfil its promise of being a means of ‘emancipation’ from oppressive social relationships.

Agroecology as an Attempt to Heal the Metabolic Rift

Many farmers engaged in agroecology see their effort as a part of a movement to heal the fractured relationship between humans and nature. This has been conceptualised in the recent literature on agroecology as repairing a ‘metabolic and epistemic rift’ that was opened up by colonialism and industrialisation (Moore 2017; Schneider and McMichael 2010). The concept of the ‘metabolic rift’ seeks to describe how relationships of care, stewardship and reciprocity between people and the environment were disrupted by industrialisation and urbanisation, which physically removed people from the land and packed them into cities churning out mounds of waste instead of maintaining a balanced recycling of materials in the environment, and especially in the soil (Foster 1999). Later literature has sought to add to this concept by pointing out how at least three disruptions in knowledge systems accompanied the rift in the human-nature metabolism: first, a disruption in local, embodied knowledge about ecology as populations were dislocated from the land led to deskilling in agriculture (Münster 2016); second, what is ‘scientific’ in agriculture became conflated with ‘industrial’ and with reductive models of components of the environment [e.g., models of soil as a mere input–output machine—see (Shah and Vijayshankar 2021)]; third, knowledge systems became geared towards expert knowledge production that serves the interest of neoliberal economic models, focusing on the demands of growth, measuring the value of agricultural practices in terms of exchange value and market logic above all else, and thus subordinating other values that may have guided agricultural choices in the past (Kumar 2023).

Repairing the rift requires not only changing environmentally damaging practices to restore nutrient recycling, but also changing knowledge systems and conceptions of relationships (Wittman 2009). Agroecology is, in some conceptions, a way to establish more just, harmonious and caring relationships among humans vis a vis their relationship with nature (Montenegro de Wit 2021; Tyagi and Kumar 2020). This is reflected in the philosophy and pedagogy of agroecology, which centres values of reciprocity, interdependence, non-violence and participation (McCune and Sánchez 2019). Working towards a more holistic vision of human progress that extends beyond economic growth to encompass a broader range of dimensions of wellbeing in harmony with the earth has often been considered an aim of the agroecology movement (Meek and Khadse 2022). See, for instance, the discussions of buen vivir and ecoswaraj (Kothari et al. 2014). In recent years in India, the Zero Budget Natural Farming (ZBNF) movement has been analysed as enshrining a new vision of social justice and development, in which farmers are empowered as knowledge producers (Bharucha et al. 2020; Khadse et al. 2018). But this connection between new approaches to agroecology and new values and visions of development has been evident in older forms of agroecology, as well (Kassam and Kassam 2020).

Emancipatory Agroecology?

The discussion of values and relationships in agroecology, detailed above, also very centrally involves valuing social justice. Social justice has been incorporated as almost inherent to the definition of agroecology for many involved in theorising about it worldwide, especially thought coming out of Latin America about food sovereignty (Holt-Giménez and Altieri 2013; Val et al. 2019), social movements (Altieri and Nicholls 2017; Meek 2019) and ‘emancipatory agroecologies’ (Giraldo and Rosset 2022). Further, as agroecology is a knowledge-intensive practice, concern for social justice has been discussed in the literature in terms of empowering farmers as knowledge producers, drawing on local knowledge and diverse ways of knowing, as well as epistemic justice (Martínez-Torres and Rosset 2014; Pimbert 2018; Timmermann and Félix 2015). The statement prepared by members of the global agroecology movement gathered at the Forum for Food Sovereignty in 2015, for instance, underscores that agroecology requires efforts to transform power structures, putting ‘the control of seeds, biodiversity, land and territories, waters, knowledge, culture and the commons in the hands of the peoples who feed the world’ (IPC 2015, p. 165). The statement further emphasises concerns related to epistemic justice, articulating that ‘the diverse knowledge and ways of knowing of our peoples are fundamental to Agroecology’. It specifically mentions that this entails developing ‘ways of knowing through dialogue among them (diálogo de saberes)’ (IPC 2015).

Agroecology, conceptualised as not only a practice and a science, but also a social movement, is often defined as a working towards a vision of food sovereignty,² in which social justice—entailing elimination of gender-, class-, caste- and race-based inequality—is central (Anderson 2021; Kassam and Kassam 2020; Wezel et al. 2009).

Even less overtly political definitions of agroecology have enshrined concerns around social justice as inherent to agroecology, such as the FAO’s 10 principles of agroecology; the principle ‘human and social values’ emphasises the values of justice, equity and inclusion (especially of women and youth), and highlights the role of agroecology in addressing inequalities (FAO 2018, p. 11). The FAO, like many bodies supporting agroecology, has observed that women are often in leadership roles in agroecology projects (FAO 2019, p. 8).

Giraldo and Rosset (2022), however, point out that not all programmes professing to be agroecological appear equally committed to social justice and overcoming social inequalities of various kinds. Expressing concern about the potential for cooptation of agroecological methods for other ends, they outline seven principles that should characterise what they call ‘emancipatory agroecologies’, as opposed to ‘reformist’ or ‘neoliberal’ agroecologies. Their principles of ‘emancipatory agroecologies’ are described as questioning and transforming structures and hierarchies, cultivating autonomy, creating economies based on use value, strengthening collective processes, fostering horizontal processes and privileging action based on culture and spirituality rather than ‘productivism’ (Giraldo and Rosset 2022).

Giraldo and Rosset go on to explain how many forms of agroecology do not fully align with these principles and thus, instead of leading to emancipation from social injustice, may lead to donor-driven project cycles without local ownership; or to elite capture; or to agroecology becoming a tool for ‘greenwashing’ in the hands of private sector interests (Giraldo and Rosset 2022). Authors such as Anderson thus call for a ‘political agroecology’, which is conscious of existing relations of power among different actors in a given social system and how changes made to ecosystems tend to have differential effects on different social groups based on existing power relationships (2021, p. 23).

In view of the historical inequalities in agriculture in Malwa-Nimar, along caste, gender and class lines, this research seeks to explore the extent to which agroecology as currently practiced fulfils aspirations of emancipation from unequal power relations. Towards this end, I examine what values and visions of development it aspires to, how practitioners see the role of farmer knowledge in this process and what challenges exist to overcoming structural inequalities.

Methods

I have been residing in the Malwa-Nimar region since 2014 and have been familiar with rural and agricultural issues through development-related work I have been doing with several organisations and through occasional visits to villages around Indore. I have also been participating over the years in the agroecology space as a consumer trying out locally grown organic products and trying to forge a relationship with those who grow the food my family eats. The findings in this article are based on a study conducted as a precursor to a larger ethnographic research project as part of my doctoral research.

I spent time intermittently over the course of 4–5 months on farms in Malwa-Nimar and interviewed agroecological farmers and other members of agencies that train and work with hundreds of farmers in the region in 2022. Farmers were identified via snowball sampling, starting from a few key informants, who then referred me to other practitioners involved in agroecology. In all, I conducted 20 semi-structured, extended key-informant interviews actors closely associated with the agroecology movement in Malwa-Nimar, of which 4 were women. The categories of interviewees overlapped, but included 15 farm-owners, 9 individuals involved in farmer training, 5 involved in NGO/CSR projects, 7 members of a sustainable food network and 3 government workers.

The size of farmers’ landholdings varied, from less than 1 acre to 37 acres, with many falling in the semi-medium to medium category.³ I found that the agroecology-entrepreneur space (with the emergence of start-ups and apps to promote natural farming) was very male-dominated, whereas it was only within NGOs that I could find concerted effort to work with women and to really consider women to be not just ‘labourers’ but ‘farmers’, and as people capable of leading innovative practice. It appeared that being a farmer and/or studying agriculture was not being promoted in mainstream society as a desirable field for women to enter and that a family interested in upward class mobility does not want others to see their wives or daughters as being involved in farm work.⁴

The interviews took place on-farm and incorporated elements of participant-observation, including seeing labourers’ working and living conditions and having some conversational exchanges with daily-wage workers present. I also spent time in farmers’ conventions and markets in which the interviewees participated. Due to my years of prior residence in the region, I was able to triangulate some participants’ statements with previous interactions with them over the years. The interview questions prompted practitioners to comment on their motivation to engage in agroecology, how they learned agroecology, what they value in their practice, how they view the role of knowledge in agroecology, the socio-economic changes they have seen emerging from their transition to agroecology, what challenges they face in relation to practice and policy, their aspirations and visions for development and wellbeing. The research received prior ethical clearance from the University of Bath Social Science Research Ethics Committee, and accordingly, informed verbal consent was obtained from each interviewee. The interviews were recorded, transcribed (and translated as necessary), then coded thematically in NVivo using codes created deductively by relating data to the themes discussed in the literature on emancipatory agroecologies and social and epistemic justice. All names of participants used in this article are pseudonyms.

History of Agrarian Change in Malwa-Nimar

Farmers interviewed commented on the impact of both the Green Revolution (starting in the 1960s) as well as the Yellow Revolution (of oilseed cash crop production, predominantly soybeans, starting in the late 1970s) on approaches to farming in Malwa-Nimar. An organic farmer in a village in Bicholi Hapsi Tehsil, rural Indore District, on ancestral land that has been farmed by his family ‘for the last 700 years’ recounted that, ‘In the 1970s, we were told by the government that our yield will increase if we use chemicals’ (Interview with Abhinandanji, 22.4.22). Production did increase, but gradually it degraded the soil, leading to harder, less porous soil and health problems for those consuming the produce (Interview, 22.4.22).

A former MLA⁵ from Dhar described how the agricultural changes during the Green Revolution onwards brought about social and ecological changes affecting the entire Malwa-Nimar region. From the 1960s onwards, he recalled, agricultural practices began to change. First electricity came, then tractors and other farm machinery and then later agrochemicals:

This changed village life. We used to have 10–15 halis⁶ who would get up at 4 am and take the bullocks for grazing on the common grassland until 6–6:30 am. The whole day was structured around the livestock patterns, the cattle and bullocks (Interview with Kaushalji 8.5.22).

With the Yellow Revolution, more farmers shifted to cultivating soybeans, and that too moving towards mechanisation and away from livestock-centric methods. With the coming of electricity, farmers relied more on groundwater for irrigation. Data from across Madhya Pradesh in this period confirms that a rapid proliferation in tubewell and pumpset installation took place between 1970 and 2000 (Vijay Shankar 2005, p. 5016). As this new horizon of possibilities opened up, each family wanted to have their own tubewell for household use, as well. Instead of a cluster of homes on a hillock, families separated and moved down to larger homes on their individual pieces of land to be near their own tubewell. Houses became more spread out from each other. This affected community life as well as, ultimately, groundwater levels. After 1985, Western Madhya Pradesh began facing a groundwater shortage for the first time, with wells drying up. The Ex-MLA commented that, ‘In the old wells, you could see the water level go down when it was getting low, and you would know. Now you don’t see it’ (Interview with Kaushalji, 8.5.22). This was complicated by the changes in cropping patterns with the intensification of cropping that occurred with the switch to soya growing in the kharif (rainy) season. Instead of leaving some sections of the field fallow to recharge the shallow groundwater reservoirs, as had been done when growing maize and jowar, farmers began cropping the entire field and leaving little opportunity for the rain to percolate deeply through their soil into the ground. Consequently, farmers became increasingly reliant on tubewells, extracting much of the hard-to-replenish ‘primary water’ contained in deep aquifers, leading to deeper and deeper tubewells and finally, very little water availability even in these tubewells during the hottest months of the year (Kumar 2016, pp. 64–8).

In the push for industrialisation, neither the water resources, nor the abundant forest of this predominantly adivasi district, were valued. Demand for wood led to much of the forest being cut down in the 1970s and 1980s, and along with it, the weakening of the ‘Shab-i-Malwa’,⁷ which would be generated by evening wind blowing through the newly sprouted teak tree leaves across the landscape.

In recent years, soybean cultivation has taken a hit due to the spread of root diseases that conventional techniques have not been able to remedy. More farmers have switched part of their land to vegetable cultivation or other crops. The former MLA believes that the interconnectedness of agricultural, economic, social and ecological changes taking place in the region is not adequately recognised: ‘The problem is the scientific community doesn’t see agriculture and rural life as a whole. They only see specific technical contributions’ (Interview, 8.5.22).

A natural farmer in a village elsewhere in Dhar Tehsil told a similar story about the interconnected changes in groundwater, agriculture, the environment and social relationships. He recounted that his village did not have electricity until 1980 and everyone lived in earthen homes until 2005. Since then, however, many farmers have started pumping groundwater. Short of labour and accustomed to easy yields with conventional soybean farming, heavy chemical use has continued with little thought to its long-term sustainability (Bhupendraji Interview, 7.7.22).

A farmer in a village in Rau Tehsil commented that, despite the increase in income for many farmers, gender inequality has been exacerbated:

There have been a lot of problems coming from soya farming. In our traditional agriculture—multicropping—the female had a major role and was master of the house godown. But with a single cash crop, women were marginalized. (Anilji Interview, 11.4.22)

Not only with gender inequality, with caste inequalities too, the Yellow Revolution has not in many cases changed the equation for adivasis, who were traditionally often exploited as a low or unpaid labour force for the landowning farmer castes. In many villages of the region, adivasis still constitute the main labour force, either from the village or migrants. In the Dhar Tehsil village, the first kilometre on entry to the village consisted of tiny earthen huts of adivasi families, who do not own cars, and who send their children to the government school. On the other side of the village are the large, heavily adorned concrete homes of the landowners, with their cars and children who study in the urban private, English-medium schools (field note, 7.7.22). The widening of inequalities between social groups seems to be a consequence of both the Green and Yellow Revolutions (see also, Kumar 2016). Would the introduction of agroecology, I wondered, with its philosophy of social justice and emancipation, be able to help overcome these inequalities?

The Development of Agroecology in Malwa-Nimar

Modern agroecology, as such, was not new to Malwa-Nimar. In fact, many trace the beginning of modern organic farming in the region back to early-20th century British botanist Sir Albert Howard at the Indore Institute of Plant Industry.⁸ Although Howard had been instructed to only engage in lab work, he insisted on working in the field and, after observing traditional farming methods, he thought he could learn more from Indian techniques than modern agricultural science (Hershey 1992, p. 268). He worked with local farmers to develop a number of modifications to traditional practices, such as the Indore method of composting. These later became the inspiration for the development of organic farming worldwide. To Howard, the health of the soil was foundational to the health of plant, and by extension, human health. He believed the only way to avoid a future catastrophe in agriculture was to recycle organic matter through composting (Hershey 1992).

Later in the 20th century, further progress towards developing modern Indian approaches to agroecology was made by figures in states bordering Malwa-Nimar. Not only Palekar, but before him, Shripad Dabholkar, Bhaskar Save and Acharya Devvrat were mentioned as influences by some of the farmers I interviewed (Interviews with Arjunji, 14.4.22; Sureshji, 30.5.22, Anilji, 11.4.22). Commercial organic farming has increasingly been taken up by farmers in Madhya Pradesh in recent decades, with Madhya Pradesh now having the largest number of hectares under organic cultivation of any state in India (Khurana and Kumar 2020). Many interviewees, however, questioned the extent to which all of the commercial organic cultivation is genuine and cited known instances of organic certification fraud (Interviews with Vijayji, 15.5.22; Vivekji, 21.4.22; Sahasraji, 20.4.22). Some interviewees, however, were able to cite what they considered to be successful efforts to support uptake of organic agriculture within small pockets of the population in Malwa-Nimar, frequently carried out with the support of either NGOs or CSR projects (Interviews with Arjunji, 14.4.22; Vivekji, 21.4.22; Pratyushji, 15.5.22).

When I began my research, in the spring of 2022, the Madhya Pradesh (MP) state government had just introduced a programme to promote ZBNF⁹ and was beginning to offer trainings through a network of master trainers, coordinated by the Agricultural Technology Management Agency (ATMA). A network of NGOs in MP connected to the National Coalition for Natural Farming (NCNF) were also starting to get involved in supporting the adoption of natural farming and agroecology in the state. At the same time, many individual farmers, farmers’ networks, NGOs and other actors in the state had long been practicing diverse variants of agroecology under the heading of ‘organic farming’. Practitioners expressed concern that, as ZBNF is rolled out, the labels of ‘natural farming’ and ‘organic farming’ should not be seen as in conflict with one another, and rather both as forms of agroecology, which by definition requires diversity of practices that are tailored to each farm (Arjunji Interview, 14.4.22, Sahasraji Interview, 20.4.22).

Crops and Markets

The transition to agroecology has enabled farmers to move from mainly growing monoculture of soybean in monsoon and wheat in winter, to a variety of intercropped vegetables, grains, seeds and root crops alongside fruit trees on the border which add to soil health as well as income and nutrition. The farmers I interviewed tended to move towards more high-value crops in order to sell in the urban market (Field note, 20.6.22; Field note, 22.4.22), with some exceptions like the group of women farmers in Udainagar Tehsil grows 30–40 different crops in the rainy season, focusing on indigenous seed conservation and production, millets and traditional Nimari crops to promote nutrition (Sahasraji Interview, 20.4.22). The Dhar farm did have a significant amount of soybean cultivation during the monsoon season, sold on the regular market (Field note, 7.7.22).

After sampling food from each farmer, I was awed by the distinctive quality and taste as compared to conventionally grown crops. The Master Trainer for the government ZBNF programme, BPKP (Bhartiya Prakritik Krishi Paddhati),¹⁰ had started training for a cluster with 100 local farmers, who were about to plant their first naturally farmed crops on 10 per cent of their land in Monsoon season 2022. He said the government would be setting up special open-air markets for them to sell their produce at a higher rate to customers in Indore city. He said villagers cannot usually buy the natural farming produce because of the cost, but those who grow do eat their own produce (Sujitji Interview, 20.6.22).

Networks and Collectivities

All the farmers interviewed were part of networks or other groups from which they received various kinds of (non-financial) support as well as lent support to other farmers in the process of transition to agroecology. One farmer was involved with the Bharatiya Kisan Sangh (BKS). The BKS organises trainings on organic farming in Indore District. Two of the interviewees run a consultancy that works with many NGOs, CSR projects and the government to assist with training in organic farming and setup of organic input-production centres. This provides the ready-made inputs that agroecological farmers need but often struggle to have enough labour, time, know-how or ingredients to make on-farm (Arjunji Interview, 14.4.22).

The aforementioned sustainable food network, the Participatory Guarantee System (PGS)¹¹ groups that many of farmers are part of, the farmers connected with the BPKP/ATMA programme and a guild of members of a powerful rural landowning caste supporting farmer members to take up natural farming were all examples of how agroecology requires collective learning. Most farmers do not learn on their own; they attend trainings and continue exchanging knowledge with other farmers. The networks help with input production and sourcing, technical support, motivation, finding markets and advocacy. In some cases, however, the networks of support were structured along gender, class and caste lines.

How Emancipatory is Agroecology in Malwa-Nimar?

The above accounts show how farmers needed to overcome numerous challenges in order to transition to agroecology. They had to learn new techniques and theories, create new on-farm infrastructure, become part of new networks, get certified and find markets in order to financially sustain their operation. The exigencies of the market, however, coupled with the additional labour requirements of agroecological practice, led to challenges in fulfilling agroecology’s emancipatory promise—the commitment to ‘new social relations free of oppression and inequality between men and women, peoples, racial groups, social and economic classes and generations’ (Nyéléni Declaration 2007). While in the literature it often appears simply a matter of a change in mindset to combine ecological and social wellbeing, in practice farmers often experienced the requirements for ecological health and social justice as pulling in different directions.

Metabolic rift theorists have expanded on the epistemic dimensions of change that agroecology seeks to pursue by underscoring how healing the metabolic/ecological rift requires healing an associated epistemic rift. This epistemic rift has at least three dimensions that have been mentioned above. Thus, to heal the epistemic rift as well as pursue epistemic justice in line with the aims of agroecology, would seem to require (a) reskilling in agroecology, (b) redefining what is ‘scientific’, what is ‘expertise’ and who is a ‘scientist’, (c) redefining the central values that guide choices in agriculture, decentring the importance of income or yield per hectare as the central metrics of ‘success’ in agriculture.

In my interviews, I tried to probe farmers’ thoughts on these questions around the epistemic rift, to understand how they see their role in relation to the production, dissemination and application of knowledge, their knowledge practices and the values that guide what knowledge they choose to pursue and adopt. The following section presents some of the findings.

Farmer-Scientists and Farmer-Philosophers

Observing the current challenges with agriculture in Malwa-Nimar, based on the experience of offering training to thousands of farmers, Arjunji commented that ‘the biggest challenge, due to Green Revolution, was that farmers stopped thinking for themselves and became dependent on being told what to do by the authorities’ (Interview, 14.4.22). This was echoed by Prashantji from Rau Tehsil who said:

Farmers need to become scientists. I feel the extension system is not raising their capacity adequately and multinationals [agribusiness companies] are taking advantage of them and filling the gap by simply promoting their own products (Interview, 20.6.22).

By contrast, many of the farmers I interviewed did try to ‘think for themselves’ and mentioned creating their own methods, beyond what they had been taught in trainings on organic or natural farming. For them, customising their approach to their own farm, soil and microclimate, was key. For instance, the farmer in Dhar Tehsil realised that by planting around 50 neem trees around his farm water harvesting pond, the neem leaves and fruit would naturally fall in the pond, then he would just need to mix cow dung and urine straight into the pond and feed this directly through his drip line to naturally increase beneficial microbial activity in the soil as well as repel unwanted pests and diseases in the soil and roots of his crops. This was much easier and less labour intensive than mixing jeevamrit or other fermented ZBNF concoctions in a series of small drums and then spraying it on each plant individually, as many farmers are taught to do (Bhupendraji Interview, 7.7.22). Prashantji said, ‘I am doing my own research to understand and better define what is farming actually’. In his research, he found that:

The first rule of nature is struggle. The strength of synthetic inputs is based on chemicals that plants themselves make. They make them from their food. So they need good nutrition to fend off pests. Through experimentation, we understood that with good nutrition, plants don’t need pesticide. They need compost, microbes, and nutrition. These are the pillars of santulit kheti [balanced farming]. (Interview, 20.6.22)

In this vision, the farmer explained, ‘the principles [of santulit kheti] will stay the same but we have to adapt the practices to different farms’. He further commented, ‘My son is studying BSc Agriculture’ and he realised from observing how agricultural science is taught, ‘that we focus too much on only one factor at a time’. He emphasised that, ‘The farmer should understand farming, not just take orders’. In his view, it was necessary for the farmer to have a more holistic vision of agriculture that went beyond the packages, troubleshooting instructions and technical prescriptions most farmers typically receive. He continued, ‘Farming isn’t just like an input/output machine’. He emphasised, therefore, that the definition of success in farming could not be based only on yield. To illustrate this point, he quoted a passage from the Bhagavad Gita, in which Shri Krishna mentions five different dimensions of ‘success’. In doing so, he underscored how it was important to see the work of farming in a larger perspective that links means and ends, labour and consciousness (Prashantji Interview, 20.6.22).

This was not the only group comfortable expounding on their philosophy of agroecology, however. For most interviewees, their commitment to agroecology in the face of sometimes adverse circumstances was based on their convictions, values and understanding of relationships. A Muslim farmer in Hatod Tehsil commented, ‘we take so much from nature but forget to give back. We have become only consumers, but we need to be givers. Otherwise all these resources will run out’ (Zuhurji Interview, 21.5.22). Similarly, the farmer in Dhar shared that, ‘If we take something from nature, it becomes our responsibility to give it back. It is a two-way process’, (Bhupendraji Interview, 7.7.22). The Khudel farmer saw a larger purpose in agroecology than just earning money:

This is for everyone—it is the farming of love. It makes the farmer self-reliant. And makes India self-reliant…. If you are farming, why are you doing it—for money? If it’s destroying everyone’s health, then what is the point of earning? (Dharmendraji Interview, 7.7.22)

Sahasraji said:

Organic farmers value environment, soil health and microorganisms, and nutrition. There are different values, not just the sale value of the produce. The normal farmer only counts productivity. And that is also the method the government uses. But the people doing organic and natural farming, they also count the environment, and they also measure the organisms in the soil, and they also measure nutrition. (Interview, 20.4.22)

In this way, many farmers emphasised that a vision of relationships of reciprocity and mutuality between humans and nature was at the core of what defines agroecology and also is part of their motivation for engaging in agroecology.

From these agroecology movement actors’ comments, it was evident that they saw a connection between their efforts to heal the metabolic rift and the epistemic rift. They mentioned all three dimensions of healing this rift and were doing this by (a) learning as well as teaching agroecological techniques that were improving ecological health on farms; (b) redefining themselves as farmer-scientists who could do their own research and develop expertise relevant to their own farms, expertise that would take a more holistic view of the ecological dimension; (c) becoming farmer-philosophers who questioned the value basis of conventional agriculture and sought to enshrine alternative cultural and spiritual values in their practice. Even the word ‘success’ was being re-examined and its meaning in agriculture being reframed in light of spiritual visions of the purpose of life. They valued their relationship with the earth as a ‘mother’, they emphasised the values of reciprocity, balance, appropriate technology, life, health, nutrition and quality of life over simply pursuing large yield and income growth.

It was often inspiring for me to see the innovation and insight that the agroecology movement actors I interviewed brought to their efforts to heal the metabolic and epistemic rift. In terms of epistemic and social justice however, the experiences of the relatively elite movement actors I interviewed left me wondering whether all farmers in the socially stratified context of this region could do this too, or whether inherited socio-economic advantage is the main enabling factor. Can all farmers access the reskilling opportunities these farmers have had access to, including those without much land? Can all farmers be convincing in representing themselves as ‘scientists’ and ‘researchers’, regardless of educational opportunities they have had access to and the familiarity and ability to marshall scientific language to describe their efforts? Similarly, can farmers of all backgrounds be accepted by others as philosophers and would the voices, knowledge and values of all farmers (regardless of gender, caste, religion, class, money or education) be equally heard and accepted by others?

These questions related to a dimension of ‘emancipatory’ agroecology—epistemic justice—which seemed challenging to put into practice. Valuing ‘the diverse knowledge and ways of knowing’ of all peoples and developing ‘ways of knowing through dialogue among them (diálogo de saberes)’ (IPC 2015, p. 165) seemed challenging in a highly stratified social context in which numerous divisions of roles exist within the local population. Epistemic justice values ‘horizontal processes, not hierarchies’ (Giraldo and Rosset 2022, p. 15), and also acting ‘based on culture and spirituality, not on productivism’ (Giraldo and Rosset 2022, p. 19). The process of social transformation envisioned by the agroecology movement begins, on this account, ‘by revaluing agricultural knowledge, traditional diets, traditional health care and vernacular forms of construction through local culture and spirituality’ (Giraldo and Rosset 2022, p. 17).

However, Giraldo and Rosset seem to refer to ‘culture and spirituality’ in a way that assumes both are somewhat static and homogenous. In contrast, cultures and subcultures are continuously shifting and evolving (Ortner 2006). Orientalism bolstered the colonial project through a discourse representing the peoples of the ‘East’ as bearers of an unchanging ‘traditional’ culture and the peoples of the ‘West’ as having a dynamic and therefore progressive culture (Said 2003). It is therefore important to avoid such paternalism by historicising culture and looking at how actors, East or West, continually make and use culture. In light of this, the assumption that ‘culture’ in a general sense will lead to ‘emancipation’ is something that needs to be explored further and given a more nuanced treatment in the literature. Depending on the situation, pursuing agroecological practices may support greater socio-economic equality, but in the case of Malwa-Nimar, they seem to be reifying caste, gender and class hierarchies.

The question of what epistemic justice means if agroecology in Malwa-Nimar is to be considered ‘emancipatory’ is even more apparent when one looks at the role labour plays in sustaining agroecological farms in this region.

Labour and Caste, Class, Gender Divides in Agroecology

Although natural and organic farmers spent less on purchasing inputs, this was more than compensated for by the extra amount they spent on labour in order to make their own inputs and carry out tasks like hand-weeding, livestock care, mulching and maintaining water harvesting structures. Bhupendraji said that he and other agroecological farmers face a labour ‘problem’; labour is their biggest input and their cost of cultivation is higher than conventional (Interview, 7.7.22). Zuhurji reiterated these points and added that not only is the cost of labour very high, but that, he has to ‘also train labourers on farm—they sometimes feel weeding by hand is a waste’ (Interview, 21.5.22). Abhinandanji commented that you have to pay ₹5,000/bigha for labour what you get for ₹100 in a chemical. Although he is earning more with agroecology, he spends more on labour (Interview, 22.4.22).

All of the farmers, I found, felt that labour was increasingly a ‘problem’, because of both cost and availability.

After hearing these accounts, I could see that agroecology was clearly good for the environment, but how inclusive was agroecology in Malwa-Nimar? Although the efforts of this group of farmer-scientists and farmer-philosophers to pioneer agroecological approaches on their farms were undoubtedly positive, I could not help but notice that most were men who belong to historically landowning, more powerful caste groups. At the same time, these agroecological farmers rely on labour from either landless or land-poor adivasis and/or scheduled caste groups who are considered to be lowest in (or outside) the caste hierarchy. Many agricultural labourers also tend to be women. But where were all the women agroecologists (besides the four I interviewed)? As I visited farms, I keenly observed the work of labourers, spoke briefly to several, visited the labour colonies and asked many questions about labour conditions to farm owners.

What I found was that a clear distinction is made between a farmer and a labourer—the labourer is not called a farmer, even though they may be doing most of the actual work of farming. This has typically been the practice in conventional farming, but given the framing and discourse around agroecology and social transformation, it was surprising to see agroecological farmers not thinking or talking more about how to re-envision these relationships.¹² Even if the farmers were to try to see the role of agricultural labour in a new way, I wondered, how could it be done?

The first challenge is to understand how the labour-intensive practices required by agroecology would work for anyone without the availability of a still relatively cheap adivasi and Dalit labour force. The reason this labour force was available so readily was due to their historical marginalisation, their continuing lack of access to education, land ownership and infrastructure. Adivasi populations in Madhya Pradesh are still some of the most marginalised across socio-economic indicators and they also face stigma and prejudice in society.

Despite the theoretical associations of agroecology with radical social equity, in practice, agroecology in this region seemed to be dependent on the continuing existence of a marginalised labour force. Instead of emanicipating, it is dependent upon existing hierarchies and structures of social subordination, and may possibly even be reproducing them. Could a person who did not have a certain amount of land, financial and social capital take up organic farming and even aspire to become a farmer-scientist in Malwa-Nimar? Similar challenges have been noted in the growth of commercial organic farming in places such as California (Guthman 2014) and Sikkim (Meek and Anderson 2020). Although the elimination of pesticide exposure for labourers on agroecological farms may be an improvement over conventional farms, this is still far from bringing about conditions of greater social and economic agency.

Giraldo and Rosset’s framing of principles for emancipatory agroecology (2022), while helpful to understand certain contexts, cannot be held up as the sole standard against which to measure the value of agroecology everywhere. However, they are useful as a heuristic to raise certain questions, as I have done in this article, which I hope will lead to more discussion around values and conceptions of social justice in agroecology.

Conclusion

Agroecology is said to entail a re-envisioning of social relationships and the relationship between humans and nature. In the recent decades of experience with agroecology in Malwa-Nimar, however, it appears that while practitioners emphasise the ecological dimensions of their practice, they have had difficulty using their practice to work towards fundamental changes to social structures. While many of these farmers would be interested in supporting social change towards greater socio-economic equity, it may be unclear under the current circumstances how they would contribute to achieving it.

The socio-economic structures in which their practice is embedded reflect historical patterns of marginalisation in the region. Not only are they unable to use their practice to work towards social change, it appears that the existing marginalisation of certain populations is what enables labour-intensive agroecology to be successful. This reality, therefore, raises the question, what kinds of changes in consciousness and in structures would be needed to enable agroecology in Malwa-Nimar to become a movement that advances social justice and equity?

Future research can help answer this question, by looking at how agroecology, as a movement, as well as a practice and a science, can be connected to a broader process of rural transformation centred around explicit concerns for equity and justice. The ‘emancipatory agroecology’ literature sometimes seems to place impossible expectations on agroecology (whose scope is necessarily focused on ecological processes) to bring about sweeping transformation in the entirety of society. Whereas, such transformation would require change not only in agriculture, but also in the education system, the economic system, in mindsets, gender roles, land ownership, family and community life and so on. Agroecology itself does not seem wide enough in scope to address all of these dimensions of social justice, but it can be an important part of a process working in this direction.

Footnotes

Declaration of Conflicting Interests

The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Funding

The author received no financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.

Notes

ORCID iD

Caroline E. Fazli

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