I’m reading a illuminating book: Jeffrey Sachs’ The End of Poverty. Sachs—an economist renowned for his work advising global economies in crisis—outlines possibilities for countries to pull themselves out of poverty. Before he launches into that, however, he lays out a map of the world economy. The early part of the book looks at global economic development, especially over the last couple centuries.
In the 1st chapter, Sachs covers how western countries such as England and the U.S. evolved from agrarian cultures, to industrial/ urban cultures, to major economic powers. “In Britain first,” he says, “and then elsewhere, industrialization meant a shift of people from overwhelmingly agrarian activities to industrial activities, giving rise to urbanization, social mobility, new gender and family roles, a demographic transition, and specialization in labor.”
He points out two reasons why economic growth and urbanization go hand in hand:
1. New technologies create more efficient farming practices. As farming productivity increases, food costs less money. Food is cheaper, less farmers are needed, and farmers and especially their children move to the city to seek employment in non-farm activities. 2. There’s a distinct advantage to high-density urban life for non-farm economic activities. Sparsely populated rural areas make good economic sense when each household needs a lot of land for farm production. However, “once the labor force is no longer engaged mainly in food production, it is natural that the bulk of the population will relocate to cities, drawn by higher wages.”
Adam Smith, history’s great economist, also wrote about the specialization that occurs during urban development. Farmers in the past were highly skilled; they could build their own houses, grow and cook food, tend to animals, and make their own clothing. Yet, they were also inefficient. Smith argues that specialization—where each person learns just one skill, limited by the extent of the market—leads to an improvement of everybody’s well being. With highly skilled individuals we can advance in every aspect of society.
Here in Banaue I see these theories in action. Just within the last few decades an enormous shift has taken place from an agrarian lifestyle to an urban one. Once farmers, many locals have become self-employed. Women and men sell local grains and vegetables at the market; they have electronic and clothing stores, and own restaurants and hotels. They sell peanuts on the side of the road, work in government offices, taxi locals and tourists in jeepneys and tricycles, and weave and carve native crafts.
Many of the people here had parents or grandparents who once farmed the fields, but the younger generations no longer do—they have found specializations, and through education, these specializations continue to diversify. In fact, I’ve met many middle-aged parents whose children are attending college in Baguio or Manila, large cities with good universities both about an eight hour drive away. While some return to their home province, many of the children never do. Just the other day, I spoke to a young woman crammed next to me in a tricycle. She was on break from a nursing program a few hours away.
“What do you plan to do when you finish nursing school?” I asked.
“I really hope to find work in another country,” she said.
“Like the United States?”
“Oh I wish,” she said, “I really, really wish that could happen.”
This is a common scenario—an increasing educated work force and not enough high paying jobs. Yet, for all practical purposes, this urbanization, this development should be encouraged, right? We want people to become continually educated, don’t we?
Well, there’s an inevitable catch. Here in Banaue, as the area develops, the terraces get left behind. Many farmers have replaced the traditional rice with imported rice with higher yielding varieties (HYVs). Unfortunately, the HYVs require chemical fertilizers and pesticides, they dry out the soil, and the chemicals destroy the native fish and snails that once grew in the terraces—also a source of food. These terraces, because of their construction and the needs of the native rice, require a lot of manual labor and constant attention. Many of the young people here are not interested in learning the old farming practices. They want to get an education, they want to live and work abroad. So—who comes first? The people, or the terraces? Can the terraces be maintained while the people develop? Who will stay behind to farm them the way they need?
I spoke to a local Ifugao about this question. He’s also a staff member with an organization that wants to preserve the terraces.
“I’m in conflict with a lot of my colleagues on this issue,” he said. “When people talk about saving the terraces, I feel like we have to choose: do we save the people or the terraces? And when people say ‘the terraces need to be preserved’ I say: come work in the fields everyday, planting rice. Walk an hour to school each way. Walk two hours to go visit your aunt because the government won’t build a road that would destroy some terraces. I know people want to save the terraces, and I understand why. But we can’t live in the stone-age just to keep an ancient culture alive.”
I think about the U.S. where agro-technologies such as mono-cropping, genetic engineering, and pesticide management have destroyed topsoil and created a list of environmental concerns. Yet organic methods, such as the ones used to grow the tinawon, are often more time consuming—especially on terraced land. But someone has to stay in the fields to work. We need farmers just as much as we need our specialized workers. The question is: how do we balance the needs of the people with the needs of the land? Is the ancient Ifugao way of farming a labor-intensive method that must be left behind?
In the 1st chapter, Sachs covers how western countries such as England and the U.S. evolved from agrarian cultures, to industrial/ urban cultures, to major economic powers. “In Britain first,” he says, “and then elsewhere, industrialization meant a shift of people from overwhelmingly agrarian activities to industrial activities, giving rise to urbanization, social mobility, new gender and family roles, a demographic transition, and specialization in labor.”
He points out two reasons why economic growth and urbanization go hand in hand:
1. New technologies create more efficient farming practices. As farming productivity increases, food costs less money. Food is cheaper, less farmers are needed, and farmers and especially their children move to the city to seek employment in non-farm activities. 2. There’s a distinct advantage to high-density urban life for non-farm economic activities. Sparsely populated rural areas make good economic sense when each household needs a lot of land for farm production. However, “once the labor force is no longer engaged mainly in food production, it is natural that the bulk of the population will relocate to cities, drawn by higher wages.”
Adam Smith, history’s great economist, also wrote about the specialization that occurs during urban development. Farmers in the past were highly skilled; they could build their own houses, grow and cook food, tend to animals, and make their own clothing. Yet, they were also inefficient. Smith argues that specialization—where each person learns just one skill, limited by the extent of the market—leads to an improvement of everybody’s well being. With highly skilled individuals we can advance in every aspect of society.
Here in Banaue I see these theories in action. Just within the last few decades an enormous shift has taken place from an agrarian lifestyle to an urban one. Once farmers, many locals have become self-employed. Women and men sell local grains and vegetables at the market; they have electronic and clothing stores, and own restaurants and hotels. They sell peanuts on the side of the road, work in government offices, taxi locals and tourists in jeepneys and tricycles, and weave and carve native crafts.
Many of the people here had parents or grandparents who once farmed the fields, but the younger generations no longer do—they have found specializations, and through education, these specializations continue to diversify. In fact, I’ve met many middle-aged parents whose children are attending college in Baguio or Manila, large cities with good universities both about an eight hour drive away. While some return to their home province, many of the children never do. Just the other day, I spoke to a young woman crammed next to me in a tricycle. She was on break from a nursing program a few hours away.
“What do you plan to do when you finish nursing school?” I asked.
“I really hope to find work in another country,” she said.
“Like the United States?”
“Oh I wish,” she said, “I really, really wish that could happen.”
This is a common scenario—an increasing educated work force and not enough high paying jobs. Yet, for all practical purposes, this urbanization, this development should be encouraged, right? We want people to become continually educated, don’t we?
Well, there’s an inevitable catch. Here in Banaue, as the area develops, the terraces get left behind. Many farmers have replaced the traditional rice with imported rice with higher yielding varieties (HYVs). Unfortunately, the HYVs require chemical fertilizers and pesticides, they dry out the soil, and the chemicals destroy the native fish and snails that once grew in the terraces—also a source of food. These terraces, because of their construction and the needs of the native rice, require a lot of manual labor and constant attention. Many of the young people here are not interested in learning the old farming practices. They want to get an education, they want to live and work abroad. So—who comes first? The people, or the terraces? Can the terraces be maintained while the people develop? Who will stay behind to farm them the way they need?
I spoke to a local Ifugao about this question. He’s also a staff member with an organization that wants to preserve the terraces.
“I’m in conflict with a lot of my colleagues on this issue,” he said. “When people talk about saving the terraces, I feel like we have to choose: do we save the people or the terraces? And when people say ‘the terraces need to be preserved’ I say: come work in the fields everyday, planting rice. Walk an hour to school each way. Walk two hours to go visit your aunt because the government won’t build a road that would destroy some terraces. I know people want to save the terraces, and I understand why. But we can’t live in the stone-age just to keep an ancient culture alive.”
I think about the U.S. where agro-technologies such as mono-cropping, genetic engineering, and pesticide management have destroyed topsoil and created a list of environmental concerns. Yet organic methods, such as the ones used to grow the tinawon, are often more time consuming—especially on terraced land. But someone has to stay in the fields to work. We need farmers just as much as we need our specialized workers. The question is: how do we balance the needs of the people with the needs of the land? Is the ancient Ifugao way of farming a labor-intensive method that must be left behind?
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