Guest Post: Agroecology as class suicide

Alex Heffron's The Struggle for Land substack is a reliable source of sophisticated and lucid thinking around land and agroecology. This post is an excellent argument for why you should subscribe.

I want to think through the idea of agroecology being class suicide. Not that it is a project of class suicide right now but that it ought to be. I think about this concept a lot because it motivates a lot of my politicisation. As a landowner, as someone who has benefitted from inherited wealth, as someone now within the university, I am in a class position of some power.

Agroecology requires many, many, many more hands on the land. There is a belief that the ‘agroecology as new entrant, small farmer-landowner’ is the way to this agroecological transition. Putting aside whether we ought to valorise such an ideal, we can fairly swiftly conclude that this is not a realisable strategy in countries where land prices are escalating beyond reach as a result of speculation and policies that favour the concentration of land, such as tax breaks, subsidies and the like. And where economic realities make it even harder to make a living as a small farmer. If we also recognise the growing catastrophe of imperialist wars and genocide, ecological breakdown and eco-apartheid, then there has to be some recognition of the urgency of agroecological transition before capital ruins more of the underlying ecological basis for life. The latest evidence of this urgent necessity for agroecological transition is the growing avian influenza outbreak.

Set in this context, agroecology in the global north needs to fully reckon with its position in the global system of imperialism and incorporate that into its analysis and demands. Our global class position as small farmers in the colonial core necessitates reckoning with class as a global phenomenon and hierarchy, before discussing it within regional or national bounds. Imperialism here taken simply as the enforced flow of value from south to north as a result of militarised capital. Agroecology (or food sovereignty movements, either way) needs to recognise how European farmers benefit from the flow of value from the lands, labour and resources of the global south. That’s not to say that capitalist competition can’t undermine efforts towards agroecological farming, but how we parse that challenge matters. It changes our focus from “globalisation” which is a critique now most commonly wielded by the far right, to capitalism. It allows us to name the system’s dynamics. Capitalist competition is what drives down production standards and with it incomes. Our demand should become to stop competing with each other and whatever that takes.

That said, focusing on how trade deals undermine European farmers whilst saying nothing about the way that the EU (or UK or US) uses food as a weapon against farmers in the global south, leading to neo-colonial regimes, reproduces a potentially dangerous blindspot. As does this idea of “fair trade” between the south and north devoid of an awareness and critique of imperialism. The common focus on transnational corporations doesn’t take this adequately into account either because it posits that a small farmer in the global north is exploited similarly to small farmers in the global south. I see the rhetorical appeal in that for building solidarity. But this shorthand can erase important differences. A proportion of the social value which is legally stolen from the global south is captured by our states through taxes, with some of it redistributed to us, which includes small farmers. As just one example. But that depends upon the global north’s continuing violence. Economies in the global south are depressed by militarised imperialism, which means we are supplied with cheapened goods, is another example. The militarised border states of Europe, the UK and the US being central to maintaining this legalised theft as the “entitlement” of their “citizens”. Palestinians being those at that bloodiest end along with those in Sudan, DRC, Syria and other places where war and genocide ‘wastes life’, in the words of Ali Kadri. (or the violence of the US-Mexico border, or the Mediterranean border—horrifically, the list is long.) When a critique of made of neoliberalism (usually standing in for a critique of deregulation) there is often an appeal made to the state. A state that is central to the power of agribusinesses in the first place. But also actively genocidal states. Is that really the power we wish to call upon? Class suicide would see us undermine the EU/UK/US.

So first stop on agroecology in the global north as class suicide is reckoning with our position in imperialism and the violence and death that entails. It needs much more work than I can give it here, but I hope this points in the right direction. We can’t continue to tolerate a Eurocentric exceptionalism in our movement for food sovereignty and agroecological transition.

Agroecology as a movement is ideologically in favour of solidarity with those in the global south. I don’t suggest this is cynical posturing—I think it’s a real felt position. But this takes the form of a disembodied solidarity: ie. an unrealised potential. The centrality of north-south solidarity in the form of the efforts of La Via Campesina stand as evidence that there is a desire and efforts made for global solidarity against the bordered death machine of capital. But if ideology is what one does, and not what one says, then we can say that agroecology is confused. Does it want a better place for its farmers in the existing global imperialist order (ie. piecemeal reforms in the EU/UK/US) or does it wish the abolition of the current order of things (to paraphrase Marx and Engels)? Does it wish away the struggle against imperialism to racialised others? Is it seen as external to the struggle for agroecology and food sovereignty? A full agroecological transition is nothing short of revolutionary, but there is a risk of an argoecology-lite (which is essentially agroecology reduced to organic farming, as elucidated by Julie Guthman, or regenerative farming, its modern counterpart).

Hence we come back to this confusion at the core of agroecology in the global north today. It professes the end of industrial agriculture, laments the constraints of the corporate food regime, and enthuses the necessity of agroecology and yet it’s caught in a game of re-arranging the deck chairs. But if we’re serious about the revolutionary potential of agroecology, as opposed to its reformist potential, then we have to take seriously Amílcar Cabral’s concept of class suicide. Trying to apply it succinctly, this means that those of us who are landowners and/or have some position of power within the movement, have to lend our power to the class position of the landless. As Antonio Roman-Alcalá puts it:

‘Developing a sense of “landlessness” can seed the awareness that society’s structure starts with lack of democratic access to land as a means of production and belonging (rather than as a financial asset).’

The petty bourgeoisie—new entrant, small farmer-landowners in this case—can never fulfill the revolution. Their/our position is too small. The choice is to either commit class suicide or fail to see an agroecological revolution. To do this there must be the development of a ‘revolutionary consciousness’—and one I must add that takes a sober analysis of its class position and power. It can’t be a faux revolutionary consciousness. As Cabral writes this means we must: ‘remain faithful to the principles and to the fundamental cause of this struggle.’ Is the aim securing ourselves a small farm and a slice of the good (imperialist) life? Or is it mass agroecological transition? And what does the movement have to do (not just say) about racialised migrant workers who provide the backbone of labour on so many farms in the global north? Developing the ‘sense of “landlessness”’ as Roman-Alcalá describes, grounds our movement with a new sense of purpose and direction. And I wonder if that was the case once, but now that many have got their land, we see a move away from more radical demands for land reform towards minor reforms of subsidy schemes?

A recently published paper has explored the co-optation of agroecology. This isn’t just the result of nefarious corporate actors, though of course that is part of their business model, it is also the result of the class composition of the agroecological movement in the global north. On the one hand, it’s rooted in relatively affluent landowners, and on the other, in academia and civil society. The former, we’ve looked at, but the latter, striving for legitimacy, a career and “solutions” can tend to wield agroecology not as a political force but as a corrective technology. Agroecology is often reduced to a technical practise of improving land management along the lines of regenerative farming or conservation agriculture, with some rhetorical dressing of the importance of circular or localised economies. There are structural imperatives, like funding, placed upon academics/civil society to reduce agroecology to such a limited means. But in failing to realise a fully politicised embodiment of agroecology they ultimately undermine and betray its radical roots. It becomes a tool to use within the technocratic sphere of European governmental policies and discussions of agricultural transition towards more “sustainable” methods. I’m not against farmers using less inputs but this isn’t what agroecology was ever supposed to mean.

As the movement has matured in the global north, it has moved away from ideas of more radical land reform towards what Roman-Alcalá has critiqued, in the US context, but applies across the north:

Too many efforts have focused on piecemeal reforms focused on farm businesses, whether tax incentive programs, “land matching” services that seek to match retiring with aspiring farmers, or so-called “incubator” programs to help farm businesses learn the ropes.

This is as true for the UK as it is the US. I think it partly stems from the class position and ideological inflection of the main movement actors (not necessarily its base, which we’ll come back to), but also from a defeatist politics of “pragmatism”. This is something Saturnino Borras Jr. has written about saying:

The consensus seeks reforms within the framework of “what is doable,” leading to its inability—or unwillingness to even try—to go beyond the limits imposed by the status quo. Perhaps what is needed is a strategy of “what is possible.” The difference between the two is that the former works within the limits and possibilities of what is doable within a given balance of social forces, whereas the latter takes an insurgent approach to disrupt a given balance of social forces in order to pursue transformative deep social reforms. It pertains to what is possible in terms of disrupting the pre‐existing balance of social forces and power in order to effect radical reforms that are otherwise unthinkable, and daring to tackle political agendas that are absurdly difficult but not impossible

What I hope I’m trying to answer in this blog post is a) why this “pragmatism” has become the hegemonic framework within agroecology in the north and b) propose the beginnings of an alternative.

To briefly answer the why: because it’s in the classed interests of those in positions of power within the movement. Why rock the boat when you’ve got your small farm (or position at a university or food/farming organisation) and what you now need is some financial support or policies to help make that farm successful? It’s understandable, even if I do believe it’s holding back agroecology. I put forward agroecology as class suicide as an alternative impetus to action. One that centres the need for anti-imperialism and a genuine anti-capitalism (read my talk from ORFC if you want to see what I think on the latter). Both of which entail building beyond the current critique of the corporate food regime. As Bresnihan and Millner recount, La Via Campesina is known for its dialogo de saberes (dialogue between knowledges): this dialogue cannot apriori collapse the distinction between different class positions within a branch of the movement. And ultimately, it’s not just about hearing the voices of landless workers, it’s about them becoming central to, and leading, the project of agroecology. The future of all agroecological farmers depends on it. That’s what is meant when Cabral is talking about revolutionary consciousness: it’s realising that one’s own future ideals and liberation depend upon the power of the revolutionary class.

As Eva von Redecker said of the recent German farmers’ protests: they politicised ‘not precarious social conditions but precarious property.’ This separates farmers from many workers and leaves them a bit stranded. A defence of property: when so many don’t own property. Agroecology, in centreing the demands of new entrant small landowner-farmers, takes this exact same position. We have limited time, energy and resources, and we need to put what we have towards new ends if we wish to realise a politicised agroecology. And if we are to take repeasantisation seriously as a form of organising post-capitalist, socio-ecological relations, then we need to become clearer on what is and isn’t a peasant, so that we know what it means to “repeasantise”. This isn’t about ignoring already existing small farmers. Such a radical programme has a lot to offer both new entrant and traditional small farmers—in my opinion, more than the piecemeal reforms being attempted. The current food/farming system will only see them cannibalised by bigger farms. Seeing multiple small, and one time successful, agroecological farms either really struggling to stay in business or having to pack it in tells us that it’s getting harder as capitalism’s crises intensify.

The required counter-hegemonic movement in the global north will be a project of class suicide, not class strengthening. It would seek to politicise agroecology not as the right wing defence of the precarious property of a minority class, but as the need for an agroecological revolution. The subject of that revolution isn’t the small farmer, it’s the landless worker. Which isn’t an argument to exclude small farmers, it’s not to say there’s no future role for them—there is—but it’s to say a defensive strategy of trying to protect the small number of small farmers isn’t going to lead to an agroecological transition and it’s not even proving successful on its own terms.

What I have tried to articulate here is what class suicide might mean within agroecology. What I haven’t managed to really articulate, and would like to at some point, is what it would mean if agroecology was a project of class suicide. I’ve left a few hooks hopefully. For now though, the horizon of our struggle, agroecology as class suicide, is not a handful of small farmers within a deadly global system—it is full global agroecological transition and all that entails.

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