For centuries, seed conservation was a cornerstone of traditional farming, a critical responsibility shouldered by farmers and rural communities. Women farmers, in particular, often held specialized skills and profound understanding in this domain, with tribal communities frequently recognized for their exemplary efforts. What's often underestimated is the sheer sophistication of their seed conservation wisdom.
Dr. R.H. Richharia, former Director of the Central Rice Research Institute of India, was a rare scientist who truly appreciated this. By immersing himself in remote village and tribal communities, especially in the Chhattisgarh and Bastar regions, he gained unparalleled insight. His community-based research led to an extraordinary compilation of over 17,000 rice cultivars grown in India. He recounted his astonishment at the tribal communities' ability to remember and transmit across generations detailed knowledge about hundreds of rice varieties—their characteristics, land suitability, water needs, drought resistance, cooking qualities, aromas, and even medicinal properties. This profound realization directly challenged the prevailing view that dismissed these communities as primitive. Dr. Richharia, an early Indian Ph.D. in Botany from Cambridge, noted the exceptional skill and dedication of some farmers, especially women. Recognizing that not all farmers possessed equal expertise, some of this critical knowledge was codified into rituals, making it more accessible for daily observance by the broader community.
Tragically, instead of being valued and strengthened, these vital traditional skills were undermined by adverse factors. The Green Revolution, beginning in the mid-1960s, introduced new, exotic varieties that systematically displaced the diverse local crops, mixed farming systems, and traditional rotations built on generations of agro-ecological wisdom.
This inherently flawed shift was exacerbated by powerful corporate interests, including multinational corporations and their allied research institutions. They transformed seeds into a primary vehicle for ever-increasing profits and control over farming and food. To achieve this, immense pressure was exerted to secure patents and intellectual property rights over life forms and plant varieties, coupled with the promotion of harmful technologies. Consequently, as crop and seed diversity vanished from farmers' fields, it was concentrated in corporate-controlled labs and gene banks. Here, the accumulated work of generations of farmers was appropriated, often genetically manipulated, and then released as "their" patented varieties—a practice presented as "science" and "development" and even lauded with awards.
The initial shock and deception eventually gave way to a powerful resurgence. As communities grasped the extent of the damage, they began to reclaim the mantle of seed conservation. In many remote villages where seed and farm diversity had not been entirely eradicated, communities are now actively protecting their genetic heritage. They recognize the disruptions and legal challenges but are convinced that through increasing unity and wisdom, they can defend their seed diversity and sovereignty on their own fields.
Indeed, recent years have seen a global surge in communities dedicating themselves to protecting seed diversity and sovereignty with renewed urgency. I recently witnessed such an inspiring effort at a seed festival organized by the voluntary organization Vaagdhara in Central India. Young Vaagdhara members enthusiastically orchestrated nearly 90 gatherings, reaching a thousand villages and hamlets across three states. Here, villagers proudly showcased and exchanged rare seeds and associated knowledge, fostering immense happiness and enthusiasm, especially among women, who expressed a strong desire for these festivals to become regular occurrences. This success was a testament to Vaagdhara's long-term, multi-faceted development efforts in the region, which had already strengthened the communities' innate inclination towards seed conservation, despite earlier disruptions.
My own work in the Himalayan region, particularly in Garhwal villages, also offered profound lessons from the Beej Bachao Aandolan (Save the Seeds Movement). This movement significantly elevated the appreciation for on-farm seed diversity, preserved through traditional mixed farming systems like 'barahanaja' (the cultivation of 12 or more crops together for balanced nutrition and food self-reliance). Prior to their intervention, some local officials and even "scientists" had advocated for the dismantling of such excellent traditional systems, misguidedly labeling them as backward—a mindset tragically aligned with the Green Revolution's destructive trends. The Save the Seeds Movement courageously confronted and corrected this distorted thinking. They organized extensive foot marches, where participants traveled between villages, carrying rare seeds to share with interested farmers while simultaneously gathering information on local preserved varieties. These joyful exchanges facilitated both information gathering and seed sharing, consistently highlighting the invaluable contributions of women farmers.
The imperative is clear: we need many more such initiatives, coupled with unwavering protection of farmers' seed sovereignty—their fundamental rights to conserve, protect, grow, and exchange their seeds without any obstruction.
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Bharat Dogra is the Honorary Convener, Campaign to Save Earth Now. His recent books include India’s Quest for Sustainable Farming and Healthy Food, Saving Earth for Children, Man over Machine, and A Day in 2071
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