“backup system.” We have an unprecedentedly large urban population that has no land to grow food on, no knowledge of how to grow it, and less and less knowledge of what to do with it after it is grown. That this population can continue to eat through shortage, strike, embargo, riot, depression, war—or any of the other large-scale afflictions that societies have always been heir to and that industrial societies are uniquely vulnerable to—is not a certainty or even a faith; it is a superstition.
As an example of the unexamined confusions and contradictions that underlie industrial agriculture, consider Agriculture Secretary Bob Bergland’s recent remarks on the state of agriculture in China: “From the manpower-production point of view, they’re terribly inefficient—700 million people doing the most pedestrian kind of things. But in production per acre, they’re enormously successful. They get nine times as many calories per acre as we do in the United States.”
This comment is remarkable for its failure to acknowledge any possible connection between China’s large agricultural work force and its high per-acre productivity. In many parts of China, according to one
recent observer, the agriculture is still much closer to what we call gardening than to what we call farming. Because their farming is done on comparatively small plots, using a lot of hand labor, Chinese farmers have at their disposal such high-production techniques as intercropping and close rotations, which with us are available only to home gardeners. Many Chinese fields have maintained the productivity of gardens for thousands of years, and this is directly attributable to the great numbers of the farming population. Each acre can be intensively used and cared for, maintained for centuries at maximum fertility and yield, because there are enough knowledgeable people to do the necessary handwork.
It is naive to assume, as Mr. Bergland implicitly does, that such an agriculture can be improved by “modernization”—that is, by the introduction of industrial standards, methods, and technology. How can this agriculture be industrialized without destroying its intensive methods, and thus reducing its productivity per acre? How can the so-called pedestrian tasks be taken over by machines without displacing people, increasing unemployment, degrading the quality of land maintenance, increasing slums and other urban blights? How, in other words, can this revolution fail to cause in China the same disorders that it has already caused in the United States? I do not mean to imply that these questions can be answered simply. My point is that before we participate in the industrialization of Chinese agriculture we ought to ask and answer these questions.
Finally, the Secretary’s statement is remarkable for its revealing use of the word “pedestrian.” This is a usage strictly in keeping with the industrial revolution of our language. The farther industrialization has gone with us, and the more it has influenced our values and behavior, the more contemptuous and belittling has the adjective “pedestrian” become. If you want to know how highly anything “pedestrian” is regarded, try walking along the edge of a busy highway; you will see that
you are regarded mainly as an obstruction to the progress of greater power and velocity. The less power and velocity a thing has, the more “pedestrian” it is. A plow with one bottom is, as a matter of course, more “pedestrian” than a plow with eight bottoms; the quality of use is not recognized as an issue. The hand laborers are thus to be eliminated from China’s fields for the same reason that we now build housing developments without sidewalks: The pedestrian, not being allowed for , is not allowed. By the use of this term, the Secretary ignores the issue of the quality of work on the one hand, and on the other hand the issue of social values and aims. Is field work necessarily improved when done
Karen Erickson, Cindi Madsen, Coleen Kwan, Roxanne Snopek