A Fresh Look at Jhuming|A. Lozaanba Khumbah

Shifting agriculture, also known as swidden, shifting cultivation or jhuming, is an important source of livelihood for thousands of families in the hills of northeast India. Around 6.2 lakh families were estimated to be practicing jhuming in 1983 (Ministry of Agriculture Task Force)[1]. It is commonly misunderstood and bears the blame for various ecological issues, both local and global. While some of these are justified, in most cases, a deep bias and prejudice shape people’s opinion on shifting agriculture.

The purpose of this article is not to romanticize shifting agriculture as our traditional way of life and defend it and argue for its practice without interference in any way. Rather, my intention is to clear some of the misconceptions and common prejudices regarding shifting agriculture. I will then proceed to show how the practice of shifting agriculture is changing and in doing so, reveal some of the challenges that have been often missed.

There are a few reasons why I believe this article is relevant. A significant proportion of readers may not be directly involved with shifting agriculture in any way – in fact, a whole generation has grown up in towns/cities and have no memories of working or even seeing a jhum field. For this section of the audience, it may interest them to see how the practice of agriculture is about the production of society as much as it is about providing food-grains. For instance, the relatively egalitarian nature of our society probably owes much to the practice of shifting agriculture. But jhum agriculture is changing rapidly, and in ways that may not be reversible. Second, thousands of people who live in remote villages are dependent on shifting agriculture. Third, it is also relevant because a significant part of our property rights, especially land rights have been shaped by centuries of practice of jhuming.

Perceptions on shifting agriculture

When the term ‘shifting cultivation’ is mentioned, people immediately think about ecological issues: deforestation, forest fire, soil erosion, climate change etc. These concerns are valid, especially in a world where we encounter the realities of climate change in our daily lives. But it is also important to recognize some of the attitudes and biases underlying these genuine concerns.

First, jhuming is understood as a ‘primitive’ form of agriculture that has no place in an era of the Green Revolution. Second, it is considered to be a ‘wasteful’ form of resource use. In other words, the returns for land and labor are meager and un-economic. Third, shifting agriculture is ‘unsustainable’. This is a powerful argument which goes something like this: the population has increased manifold leading to more and more forests being destroyed. Not only are more forests being destroyed, but the fallow
period (the number of years after which a particular plot of land is cut again
– ideally 10 years or more) has also been drastically reduced to 3 – 5 years resulting in many environmental problems. In fact, many scholars predicted that an ‘ecological disaster’ was imminent due to this unsustainable practice.

Before addressing these present-day concerns, let us briefly visit the colonial period from which transformations in shifting agriculture began. The colonial encounter of shifting agriculture is a necessary starting point in this discussion. The British were the first power to bring the whole region under a single administration. They were also the first to intervene systematically in the practice of jhuming. However, one must not assume that the British rulers had the same (ecological) concerns as those that prevail today. In fact, the systematic exploitation of forest by the Empire for profit, namely, to build railway tracks and in the Second World War, leading to large-scale deforestation in all parts of the country is well-documented.

A survey of colonial writings reveal that the British saw shifting cultivation as a problem primarily for economic reasons: jhuming competed with the colonial demand for timber. In many instances so long as the clearing of forests did not affect the British interests of logging and timber, either because the forest did not have high-quality wood with a good price in the market or there were no roads or rivers to transport the timber, they would allow the practice to continue. Government efforts to create reserve forests were not done with environmental concerns in mind but purely for economic reasons. (It may be noted that ideas of ‘climate change’ and ‘sustainable development’ had not permeated public consciousness or become catchphrases at this period of time).

Colonial writings, however, portrayed the locals and their practice in very poor light. For instance, Baden Powell an influential government servant, compared shifting cultivation to the evil of ‘sati’ and advocated to stop it. We may trace the notions of ‘primitive’ and ‘wasteful’ to the prejudiced views of the colonial rulers. Unfortunately, the post-colonial government adopted these views wholesale as is evident from the continuation of various policies. Thus, the narrative of the state which was deeply antagonistic to shifting agriculture became the commonly accepted narrative in the academia, by government officials as well as in public perception. This is true not only in India but also in Southeast Asia, in Africa and in Latin American countries who were colonized by one power or the other.

Thus, government efforts to ‘sedenterize’ jhuming farmers or ‘wean’ them away from the axe to ‘make useful citizens out of them’ found legitimacy. The state began to project itself as protecting the forests from locals who were indiscriminately destroying them. This narrative gained further traction when the idea of ‘sustainable development’ and the challenge of climate change became real issues.

The transformation of shifting agriculture

Despite heavy criticism from various quarters and efforts by the government to stop it, shifting agriculture continues to be an important economic activity in the hills. This has baffled many who assumed that this ‘primitive’ practice would automatically wither away in the face of economic and technological advance. In fact, a survey of the rural landscapes of the Northeast reveals that jhum fields are found side by side with wet-rice fields, banana, orange and timber plantations, and other horticultural farms. Why is this so?

A closer look confirms the many things that more recent research have appreciated about shifting agriculture. First, the practice of jhuming is quite well-adapted to the prevailing ecological constraints imposed by geography and climate. So far, modern day agricultural practices have not come up with viable alternatives for these environs, which partly explains the failure of various government schemes.

Second, the high diversity of crops grown in the jhum field ensures food and nutritional security while minimising the risk of complete crop failures. Contrary to popular perception, jhuming farmers have highly evolved mechanisms of ensuring productivity over different soil and climatic conditions. Fieldwork in Haochong and Puichi, two Inpui Naga villages revealed a remarkable ecological heritage. Farmers sowed different varieties of paddy depending on: soil – whether it is red soil, black soil, sandy or loamy; climate – whether it is warm or cold; forest – whether it is bamboo forest or wood; and the fallow length – whether the forest is being revisited after 10 years or 30 years (in which case, ‘normal’ paddy would grow extremely tall making them fall under their own weight and leading to a crop failure). Farmers had different varieties of paddy for each of these climatic-soil combinations, not to mention the rich diversity of vegetables, cereals, and pulses! Jhuming farmers are the custodians of rich gene-pool though they are hardly recognized as such.

There is a third and important reason for the ‘persistence’ of shifting agriculture: products from the jhum field have found a market. A section of population has emerged, dwelling mostly in towns and cities, who have moved away from shifting agriculture but still relishes the taste of ‘home-food’. This cultural taste for certain types of food from a community with purchasing power has created a demand for particular crops like the king chilly, soyabean (for axone), sesame, sticky-rice – to name a few. While this demand may work in informal and uneven ways, it provides enough incentive for jhum farmers to grow crops that are market-friendly and provide cash income. Thus, jhuming which used to primarily provide food security has become an important source of income, at least for farmers who are close to towns and cities. The market has, therefore, emerged as an important driver of change in shifting agriculture.

As towns and cities become more accessible, market forces are impacting farmers’ choices of crops and land-use. For instance, farmers are steadily favouring crops that have good market value like chilly or vegetables in place of more traditional crops like paddy. In turn, they depend on the market for the supply of food-grains. Cultivation of fruit trees like banana and orange are also taking place on a large scale encouraged by government incentives like the Orange Festival, in Manipur.

The question of sustainability

The ecological question takes an interesting turn as we factor in the role of the market. As rural villages get more connected to the mainstream economy, livelihoods have diversified considerably. Education has played an important role in this process. Farmers are often found managing more than one field/farm at the same time to supplement income and take advantage of market opportunities. Field sizes have, therefore, reduced considerably compared to the past. This has impacted the jhum cycle: in many villages, the length of fallow – a crucial indicator of ‘sustainability’ – is reported to have increased, instead of getting reduced according to popular understanding. One may expect this trend to continue as the economic activity gets diversified, though it is not a good indicator of the quality of the forest.

However, as farmers attempt to make the most of market opportunities, they put extra pressure on land that is easily accessible. For example, farmers tend to cultivate larger fields when fields are close to the village while the field size decrease as they are further away from the village. (In many villages, the village council decides on the location of the fields, moving in a particular pattern). It is likely that the individual drive for profit will lead to a number of ecological issues arising from overexploitation of accessible resources.

Another outcome of increased market penetration is the increased individual control over land. In the Northeast, there is a steady push towards privatization which is further accentuated by these changing agricultural practices: changes in the cropping pattern and land-use impact the prevailing land rights. This becomes especially significant because property rights in the Northeast are not strictly formal. The privatization of land is resulting in the adverse effect of socio-economic inequality being concretized.

As market forces dictate individual agricultural-economic decisions, the functioning of traditional institutions that have long played a central role in sustaining these societies comes under strain. These informal (as well as formal) institutions come under further pressure in the face of global capital whose presence is felt through the various infrastructural projects of road and rail making. This is one of the most important challenges facing rural agrarian communities because these institutions regulate, manage and mediate resource use.

Conclusion

Popular notions of shifting agriculture tend to present it in a bad light. However, a closer look reveals a more nuanced picture where farmers negotiate with state and market forces within the constraints imposed by local ecologies. One may contend that the common understanding of jhuming as ‘primitive’ and ‘wasteful’ is deeply biased. In fact, precious ecological knowledge of managing forests and plants are being lost as more and more farmers move out of the traditional practice of jhuming to grow market-friendly crops. At the same time, ecological concerns take a new turn as market forces begin to dictate terms on the erstwhile ‘remote’ villages.

At this juncture, the state has an important role to play. It is imperative to strengthen the traditional institutions while ensuring that these bodies are not hijacked for individual interests. In the context of the Nagas, civil societies can help shape the trajectories of institutional transformation. While cutting forests and burning them seems unacceptable in this present era, farmers are hard-pressed to find viable alternatives to livelihood. The debate on shifting agriculture is therefore far from over, at least in the Northeastern hills of India.

A. Lozaanba Khumbah is pursuing a Ph.D. in Geography from Jawaharlal Nehru University. His thesis is on shifting agriculture in northeast India. He may be reached at lozaank@gmail.com.

The article first appeared in NagaDao, an annual publication of the Naga Students' Union, Delhi (NSUD).

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[1] The numbers are expected to have reduced considerably but there are no comprehensive reports. The data on the area under shifting agriculture given by various government agencies are also being questioned.