Rural development in Eurasia and the Middle East : land reform, demographic change, and environmental constraints 9780295980478, 0295980478

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Rural Development in Eurasia and the Middle East

Rural Development in Eurasia and the Middle East Land Reform, Demographic Change, and Environmental Constraints

Edited by Kurt E. Engelmann Vjeran Pavlakovic

Russian, East European, and Central Asian Studies Center at the Henry M. Jackson School of International Studies University of Washington in association with

University o f Washington Press Seattle and London

Copyright 2001 by the University of Washington Press

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Rural Development in Eurasia and the Middle East : land reform, demographic change, and environmental constraint / edited by Kurt Engelmann and Vjeran Pavlakovic. p. cm. Includes bibliographic references and index. ISBN 0-295-98047-8 (alk. paper) 1. Rural development-Case studies. 2. Rural development-Russia (Federation). 3. Rural development-Asia, Central. 4. Rural developmentAfrica, North. 5. Rural Development-Middle East. I. Engelmann, Kurt. II. Pavlakovic, Vjeran. III. Henry M. Jackson School of International Studies. Russian, East European, and Central Asian Studies Center. HN49.C6 R87526 2000 307.1’412’0956— dc21

00-060703

Contents Introduction, Kurt E. Engelmann vii 1 / Change in Russian Agrarian Reform, 1992-1998: The Case of Kostroma Oblast 3 Stephen K. Wegren 2 / Continuity in Rural Russia 45 Gregory Ioffe 3 / Rural Population Change in Russia, 1959-1998 62 Dmitry Sharkov 4 / Land Reform and Farm Reorganization in the Kyrgyz Republic: A Legal Perspective 87 Renee Giovarelli 5 / Agricultural Sector Reform and Rural Development in Uzbekistan 117 Jim Butterfield 6 / Managing Transnational Waters of the Aral Sea Basin: A Geographical Perspective 140 Philip Micklin 1 / Agricultural Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa 185 Will D. Swearingen 8 / Agricultural Development or Sustainable Agriculture: The Case of the Middle East 210 Michael E. Bonine 9 / The Smallholder in Turkish Agriculture: Obstacle or Opportunity? 239 Paul Kaldjian Contributors Index

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Introduction Kurt E. Engelmann

The centrality of agriculture in the wide-ranging and variously defined process of development is difficult to overestimate. In economic terms, the ability or inability of agriculture to provide inputs to industrial production, create a surplus of capital, generate hard currency through exports, supply raw materials and foodstuffs for the urban/industrial sectors, and offer a market for finished consumer goods is crucial to sustained economic growth. In demographic terms, changes in the agricultural sector are closely linked to urban-rural population dynamics, as changes in the agricultural means of production, wage rate, demand, and related factors prompt rural-urban migration, supplying labor necessary for industrialization. The pace of this migration in comparison to the ability of the urban and industrial sectors to absorb migrants greatly affects the structure and quality of city life. In environmental terms, the sustainability of agriculture determines the duration and rate of the rural sector’s positive contribution to overall economic changes. Agriculture in turn depends on urbanindustrial sectors for its development: the industrial sector for fertilizer, pesticides, and other inputs; the governmental sector for health, education, medical, and other social services; the service sector for loans and insurance; and the academic-scientific sector for innovations in cultivation, storage, and transportation. Urban-rural interrelations can be exceedingly complex, especially in the presence of transnational economic linkages, as actors in industrial and other sectors can be dispersed across a wide array of local, regional, national, and international political boundaries. Developmental processes vary significantly over space, and much of the contemporary literature on development focuses on the “successes” and “failures” of development in specific geographic areas. The “dragons” of East Asia and Southeast Asia have been used as models of export-driven growth, before and after the recent financial crisis. Latin America, and India to a lesser extent, have been used as examples of, inter alia, rural development’s dependency on land redistribution. And sub-Saharan Africa garners a great deal of attention as the “troubled” macro-region in terms of economic growth, food self-sufficiency, population dynamics, political and economic decision-making,

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and other aspects of development. Since agriculture plays a prominent role in these regions, the study of developmental processes there has resulted in a rich literature on agrarian development spanning a wide range of theoretical and political perspectives. The countries of the former Soviet Union and the Middle East (including North Africa) possess unique and somewhat divergent characteristics relevant to the study of agricultural development. The former Soviet bloc, including Eastern Europe, is experiencing agricultural decollectivization on an unprecedented scale. The process of transforming collective and state farm systems is crucial to the agricultural development of these areas, particularly in the former Soviet Union, where collectivization was more deeply entrenched than in Eastern Europe. North Africa and the Middle East, taken together, contain the largest single arid zone on the planet, which presents distinct, if not unique, challenges. Political, demographic, and other factors combine with the constraints of mildto-severe aridity to establish a wide array of developmental outcomes in this region. The purpose of this volume is to explore contextual issues that influence the course of rural development in Russia, Central Asia, and the Middle East. It is not the purpose of the book to examine economic aspects of development (economic growth and agricultural productivity) per se. Rather, the challenges of arid lands and land reform, and approaches to these challenges, form the core conceptual foundations of the book. The book also addresses two other issues of relevance to rural development —demographic processes and governmental food policies —which are integrally related to arid lands agriculture and land reform. A factor affecting all of these issues is the role of the state and related political entities. As in other areas of the world, the state, reflecting different political environments of ideology and power relations, has played a critical role in these countries in establishing legal, political, and bureaucratic structures that promote or retard developmental processes. In addition, state actions, such as the distribution o f land and other fixed assets, the mobilization of human resources and capital for large-scale projects, the regulation of migratory patterns, and the promotion of food self-sufficiency, have also shaped and constrained rural developmental processes.1 The state has in turn been affected by local and national political forces that influence rural development policy decision-making and implementation. This dynamic interaction between state and other political forces is a major determinant of developmental trajectories in Russia, Central

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Asia, and the Middle East, with considerable spatial variation across these regions.

Central Asia as a Transition Zone between Russia and the Middle East The geographic regions selected for this volume may appear to be wide-ranging at first glance. In terms of physical geography, Russia’s landscape differs considerably from that of the Middle East. Natural conditions in the former range from arctic desert to steppe, while natural conditions in the latter are characterized primarily by desert or semi-desert. Irrigation occurs in only a small portion of the Russian Federation, primarily in the southern area of the country between the Black and Caspian Seas. In contrast, irrigation provides the basis for crop cultivation in much of the Middle East. In terms of economic and political features, Russia is faced with overcoming seventy years of Soviet rule and attempting to make a transition from the Soviet system to a more marketoriented and democratic system. In contrast, only a handful of states in the Middle East were influenced by the Soviet developmental model. Most are faced with legacies of a different sort, inherited from colonial and neocolonial regimes. Central Asia, defined for the purpose of this volume as the former Soviet states of Kazakstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan, provides a convenient intersection point between Russia and the Middle East. Central Asia serves as a prime example of a transition zone, a geographic region that shares human or physical characteristics with two or more adjacent regions and provides a conceptual bridge between the two. Central Asia closely resembles the Middle East in terms of physical geography. Arid and semi-arid conditions predominate in both regions, with mountain ranges collecting and distributing moisture to rivers and streams, many of which are seasonal in nature. Dry farming (non-irrigated agriculture) is possible only in isolated spots in mountain foothills (the piedmont zone). Elsewhere, crop cultivation depends on irrigation, from either surface or sub­ surface sources. A variety of other physical features — soils, flora, and fauna — are shared by the two regions to various degrees. The importance of water affects a wide array of human phenomena in both Central Asia and the Middle East, from settlement to the international management of rivers. Some recent

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publications have made direct comparisons between water management in the two regions, such as The Central Eurasian Water Crisis: The Caspian, Aral, and Dead Seas, edited by Iwao Kobori and Michael H. Glantz (Tokyo; New York: United Nations University Press, 1998). Central Asia and the Middle East share many cultural and historical features. The spatial distribution of ethnic groups indicates the deep cultural connection between these two areas. Different Iranian peoples have lived in Central Asia for centuries. From the eighth through the eleventh centuries, Soghdian, an Iranian dialect, was the lingua franca of the Silk Road from Northern China westward.2 In contemporary Central Asia, Iranian languages are represented by Tajik, the Pamiri languages, and others. The presence of large numbers of Turkic-speaking peoples in both regions, and a smaller number in the Russian Federation, illustrates the common linguistic bonds between the three regions.3 Religion has also been shared by Central Asia and the Middle East for centuries. From the time of the Arabian conquest in the eighth century (711 A .D .) to the Russian conquest in the m id-to-late nineteenth century, Central Asia was an integral part of the Islamic world and closely tied to the Middle East. During the reigns of Tamerlane and his grandson, Ulugh Bek, Samarkand in present-day Uzbekistan became one of the leading centers of Islamic thought and power. These ties were loosened somewhat when the Shiite sect became the official state religion in neighboring Iran in the sixteenth century. But they remained strong until Soviet power became dominant in the region. Even during Soviet rule, Islamic beliefs and institutions were prevalent, especially in rural areas, and tolerated to a degree. (Researchers have found that the practical definition of a “Muslim” in Central Asia does not depend exclusively on Islamic belief or practices. Surveys during the Soviet and post-Soviet periods have shown that someone who observes traditional customs not dictated by the Koran as Islamic is “Muslim” even if he or she violates certain standard Islamic precepts, such as the consumption of pork or alcohol.)4 In the post-Soviet period, tension between secular and religious factions in Tajikistan helped spark a five-year civil war, which has yet to be fully resolved. Tensions over the role of Islam in society and government are present today in all of the republics of Central Asia. The Russian conquest in the nineteenth century and Soviet rule in the twentieth century brought tremendous changes to Central Asia. Tsarist interests in the region were primarily strategic and economic in nature, and, hence,

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cultural life continued as previously for the most part. But the goals of the Soviet state were nothing less than the complete transformation of the society, economy, and landscape of Central Asia. Through such institutions as the Red Army, the Communist Party, and Gosplan (the State Planning Agency), Central Asia became an appendage to Moscow. In economic terms, a command economy was imposed on the area, which entailed collectivization, sedentarization, and “dekulakization,” with tremendous loss of life and property. Cotton became the leading crop in irrigated areas that could support it, with severe environmental consequences.5 Soviet institutions, modes of conduct, bureaucratic mentality and mind-set, along with the Russian language and Russians themselves, diffused to the region. Trade and cultural contact with other countries was tightly controlled, effectively limiting the historic ties Central Asia had with the Middle East. The fact that Soviet goals were not fully realized does not diminish the profound effect of Soviet rule on Central Asia.6 As a result of Soviet rule, the newly independent states of Central Asia now face problems similar to those in the rest of the former Soviet bloc in attempting to create a market economy and democratic political system. The pace of this transition varies widely across post-Soviet space, with the countries of northcentral Europe generally in the lead (the former German Democratic Republic, Poland, Hungary, the Czech Republic, and the Baltic States), and the countries of Central Asia bringing up the rear. Several exceptions to this transition “gradient” exist: Belarus has retained its previous political-economic system virtually unchanged, while Kyrgyzstan has received substantial support from international lending institutions and has taken serious steps toward attaining a market economy. Civil society and democratic practices, an integral part of the “transition,” have been slow to take hold in Central Asia. As in many other post-Soviet states, the political leaders of the newly independent states of Central Asia strongly reflect their Soviet past. With the sole exception of Kyrgyzstan, the presidents of all states in the region were members of the Communist Party, and three of the five were leaders of their respective Soviet republics (First Party Secretaries) when the Soviet Union was dissolved.7 These three leaders have engineered extended terms of office for themselves by, inter alia, outlawing or restricting the activities of opposition groups and carefully controlling the media. Economic liberalization has also been slow, but varied, in the region. Privatization and land reform (discussed in more detail below) have occurred to

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a limited degree in Central Asia, and Soviet-style management of the economy (quotas, price and exchange rate controls, excessive subsidies) is still not uncommon. In contrast, trade and contact with states outside the former Soviet bloc have increased dramatically since independence, including contact with Middle Eastern countries. The states of Central Asia have redirected a substantial portion of their trade from the former Soviet bloc to countries outside of the former Soviet Union. Foreign investment has increased substantially, with Kazakstan receiving the lion’s share. Transportation routes to China and Iran have been enhanced, and several agreements and plans envisage a more extensive network of railroads and pipelines linking Central Asia to its nonRussian neighbors. The Caspian Sea Pipeline project, for example, entails the construction of an oil pipeline from Kazakstan to Azerbaijan across the Caspian Sea. When completed, the pipeline would connect to the Baku-Supsa pipeline, another emerging transportation link, which will run from Azerbaijan to the Turkish Mediterranean coast. This reorientation of trade has been paralleled by a reorientation of international relations. Long denied free access to foreign areas, Central Asian leaders have established strong relationships with many foreign countries. Aid and assistance from several Middle Eastern countries, including Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and Israel, have penetrated the region. The Uzbekistani and Turkmenistani governments in particular have followed a foreign policy largely independent of Moscow. But at the same time, they have not allowed themselves to become the “little brother” of Middle Eastern states, despite the existence of a multilateral “Great Game” by Russia, Iran, Turkey, and others for influence in Central Asia.8 Central Asia’s role as a transition zone between Russia and the Middle East is apparent in the examination of rural development in the three regions. Central Asia shares in common with the Middle East problems of a rapidly increasing population, arid and semi-arid climatic conditions, and government policies favoring food self-sufficiency. Water conflict, or the potential for water-related conflict, characterizes important river basins in both regions. With other areas of the former Soviet Union, on the other hand, Central Asia shares in common the profound and politically charged question of land reform, a question that countries within the region are approaching in radically different ways.

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The organization of this book reflects Central Asia’s role as a transition zone between Russia and the Middle East. The book is organized geographically by region into three sections, with three articles in each section. Part I addresses agricultural and rural processes in Russia, the largest country in the former Soviet Union in terms of size, population, and economic production. Part II is devoted to Central Asia, with a particular focus on Kyrgyzstan, the lead country in creating a legal structure for private farming, and Uzbekistan, the largest and economically most prominent country in the region. Part III covers North Africa and the Middle East, henceforth referred to as “the greater Middle East” for simplicity’s sake. Separate articles are devoted to issues of rural development in Northwest Africa, the Middle East, and Turkey, respectively, in this section. The remainder of this introduction will address in the following order some of the prominent concepts that transcend the articles in this book: (i) land reform and the transition to a market economy; (ii) resource endowments and constraints on economic development; (iii) demographic processes; (iv) food self-sufficiency and related governmental policies.

Land Reform and the Transition to a Market Economy In its simplest and purest theoretical form, economic development involves the transition from a traditional, subsistence-based economy, in which agriculture is the dominant occupation, to a market-based economy in which the industrial and service sectors are the dominant occupations. As a result of these processes, trading areas increase considerably, agriculture is transformed into agri­ business, and agriculture becomes much more closely tied to other sectors of the economy. Several theorists, including Rostow, have conceived of this process as occurring in discrete stages. The countries of the former Soviet bloc present a different developmental path than the classic transition from subsistence to commercialism. Commercial structures, which were at different stages of development before collectivization, were supplanted by a state-controlled system in which land was collectively or state owned, with some exceptions in Eastern Europe. This system was thenceforth diffused to other socialist countries. But the degree of impact of this state-controlled system was arguably greatest at its geographic hearth, the Soviet Union, where it existed longer than in any other country.

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Attempts to transform collectivized agriculture have led to various degrees of marketization and privatization in the former Soviet Union. In countries such as Belarus and Turkmenistan, change has been minimal. In others, such as Estonia, the transformation has been nearly complete. But in light of the various “directions” of reform, it is debatable whether this transformation should be referred to as a “transition” since it is unclear whether all of the former socialist economies will eventually become based strictly on private ownership and market mechanisms. Might several of these countries, in fact, retain a socialist or a mixed socialist-market economy? In the case of many, including Russia, modified collective forms of agriculture are retained and a substantial demonetarization of the economy has occurred as transactions based on cash have given way to transactions based on barter. Russia Stephen Wegren (chapter 1) and Gregory Ioffe (chapter 2) raise the question of how the transformation of agriculture should be measured in Russia: in terms of the amount of change that has occurred from its “original” state (socialized agriculture), or in terms of the amount of change still needed to effect a full transformation to a market economy? Both authors identify a prominent Western bias —that change should be measured in terms of the diffusion of Western-style private farms. Wegren argues that the more relevant type of change to be measured is the degree to which present-day farming differs from Soviet-era farming, a difference that is quite substantial and profound. He states that despite the fact that collectively based farm organizations still predominate, the legal basis of these farms has changed considerably. Ownership now resides with farm members rather than with the state. Farm members have been transformed from workers with strictly limited rights of departure to shareholders theoretically able to sell their stakes and leave the farm. In contrast to the Soviet system of full and protected employment, farm laborers can be and are dismissed from employment, and the farm itself is now subject to bankruptcy provisions. Moreover, the production and financial environments in which collective farms operate have changed drastically. The flow of subsidies that sustained unprofitable farms has been reduced to a trickle and seems to favor farms in profitable areas, in contrast to Soviet-era practices. The mandatory state delivery

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system has been replaced by a much less universal state contractual system applied only to maintain “minimum levels of reserves to meet targeted state needs.” Food trade has shifted concomitantly from the state purchasing and delivery system to market channels and private traders. Competition with other regions and international producers has increased, with some regions adopting protectionist policies. Farm collectives have become conscious of market opportunities and are interested in expanding into downstream activities — food processing and retail sales. However, in contrast to these systemic changes, efforts to privatize Russian farming have been only marginally successful. The private family farm has remained insignificant in comparison to other forms of organization. The number and size of farms peaked in the mid-1990s, which corresponds to a decline in subsidies for this type of farm. In comparison to personal plots, the small, kitchen gardens that experienced negative treatment during the Soviet period, private farms contribute a minuscule amount to food production. Wegren concludes that the period of radical reform has ended, with the result that the collective form of agricultural organization will continue to predominate, private plots will make significant contributions in the area of food production, and Westem-style private farming “will remain marginal.” More controversial is the question of whether a land market exists in Russia. Wegren disagrees with the opinion prevalent among international lending agencies and the executive branch of the federal government that a land market does not exist. Proponents of the latter view point to the fact that collectives remain largely intact and the predominant form of farm organization; federal legislation legalizing land sales is absent; the volume of sales and the size of plots involved in existing land markets are small; and leasing rather than sales comprise all but a tiny fraction of all land transactions. Wegren counters these points by arguing that the land market, however small, does exist; that local legislation has started to fill the void left by the political deadlock at the federal level; and that all forms of farm organization are based on the private ownership of land, which promises great potential (albeit unrealized) for a land market. Wegren notes that certain economic, demographic, and psychological obstacles remain, which, once overcome, should lead to an expansion in the land market. Ioffe (chapter 2) underscores the dynamic spatial relationship between urban and rural areas, which is frequently overlooked by analysts of the Russian

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rural scene. Urban areas are closely tied to rural areas through an extended family system that responds to economic changes by expanding in rural or urban directions. Through family connections or by directly working subsidiary private plots, urban residents can acquire and store food for the lean winter months. These actions prevent starvation or malnutrition for the vast majority of the population. This urban-rural system plays a major role in all large cities except Moscow and St. Petersburg, which rely principally (but not exclusively) on food delivered through retail outlets. Ioffe identifies the removal of restrictions on purchasing or leasing rural land by urban residents in 1992 as a landmark event in the expansion of subsidiary farming. He sees this development as a return to the past as “the floodgates of continuity burst open.” The result, according to Ioffe, is that “almost everybody is working land these days in Russia” using “antediluvian” technology. In this manner, many of the recent changes observed can be interpreted in actuality as “continuity in disguise.” Thus, trends in prevalent technology indicate that negative development in Russia is occurring as a general primitivization of agriculture is taking place: the existing capital stock is deteriorating, very little new replacement capital is being infused into the system, and the human capital is aging. Ioffe, as does Wegren, raises the question of how progress in agrarian reform should be measured. Ioffe notes that simple categories of farm type are less relevant in the post-Soviet milieu. Instead, a triangular “option space” can be visualized in which farms can be placed according to the degree to which they operate as private businesses, cooperatives, or communities. The fact that most farms do not fit a single, dominant archetype but fall somewhere in this pluralistic option space is perhaps the most profound change that has occurred in recent years. Interpreting other recent changes in Russian agriculture is an ambiguous undertaking. On the one hand, these changes represent negative trends; as livestock herds have declined, sown area has contracted, and the level of agrarian technology used on most farms has deteriorated. On the other hand, Ioffe sees the contraction in sown area as a necessary, quintessentially Russian process of “weeding out” less competitive areas. Locations close to the urban fringe are the most viable and have been growing demographically in the postSoviet period. Peripheral areas have suffered most. There is a sharp drop-off in farm viability away from large urban areas, which, Ioffe asserts, constitutes “a

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steeper gradient of agricultural land-use intensity today in each and every Russian province...than ever before.” Ioffe believes that the “weeding out” process will eventually be positive for Russian agriculture, as the rural labor force that remains will be of a higher quality than preexisting rural labor. In this manner, spatial polarization reflects processes working to alter the Russian agrarian system while maintaining continuity in certain areas. Kyrgyzstan The countries of Central Asia present a varied, yet sharp, contrast to Russia in terms of degree of rural change. On the one extreme is Kyrgyzstan, which should be counted among the vanguard in establishing a legal infrastructure for private farming in the former Soviet Union. Since 1991, a broad range of federal decrees, laws, government decisions, and a popular referendum have put into place a legal framework for the private ownership of land, the creation of a land fund, long-term leasing rights, and other aspects of private farming. The result has been a remarkable transformation of the legal infrastructure, a transformation that has put more than half of all agricultural land into private hands. Kyrgyzstan’s recent favorable agricultural performance implies that these reform efforts are bearing positive results, according to Renee Giovarelli (chapter 4). Much legislation is still under consideration at the national level that will affect the pace and degree of rural transformation in Kyrgyzstan: laws on the privatization of land, farm indebtedness, land transactions (sales and purchases), repossession by the state of unused land, land mortgaging, and access to machinery and other non-land assets through service cooperatives and other arrangements. Giovarelli stresses the need for several critical measures to accelerate the reform process: making available forms and regulations that describe in detail the procedure for selling and purchasing land; specific rights to and certificates for land for individual family members (in place of the current process of granting land certificates to a family as a unit); writing off all debt currently inherited from collective or state farms by voluntarily created private farms; and registering all land transactions that take place, not just the original transfer of land from state or collective to private possession. Giovarelli also observes that a mortgage law will not produce beneficial results unless farmers

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have secure land tenure and a land market, and several other reforms have taken place. The physical infrastructure of farms and farm support organizations present particularly difficult obstacles to reform. Division of ownership or control of large assets such as machinery, bams, and irrigation structures (almost all arable land is irrigated) is problematic, due to the large scale of investment these assets represent and the collective nature of their use. To date village governments have retained control over most of these assets, especially machinery. Giovarelli reports that access to machinery is more difficult than access to land —extensive interviews with farmers in the republic failed to turn up a single farmer who had received machinery as part of his or her property share. Legislation currently under discussion would separate machinery allocation from local political control, which should allow for a wider redistribution of non-land farm assets. In the case of Kyrgyzstan, as with other countries of the former Soviet Union, it is difficult to measure the degree to which national legislation has translated, and will translate, into agricultural reform at the farm level. Although most agricultural land in Kyrgyzstan is nominally under private control, half of all land is worked by collective and state farms, many of which lease land from private shareholders. Cosmetic reorganization, in which collective and state farms change their names to suggest that they have been transformed into associations of private farmers but retain previous forms of land control and decision-making, is still a potential problem. Perhaps most critical is the role of local governments in obstructing the reform process by such practices as intentionally delaying the processing of land certificates. As Giovarelli admits, “county and village level governments continue to have a great deal of authority and ability to either move the reforms forward or hinder them.” National legislation cannot be expected to compel local governments to promote agrarian reform, and the cooperation of local authorities will be needed in the future. The difference between national decrees and farm reality requires extensive research of the type provided by the Rural Development Institute (RDI), where Giovarelli is employed as a staff attorney. Giovarelli’s analysis touches on the issue of equity versus efficiency, a crucial element in the debate over rural reform throughout the former Soviet Union. Although most residents in these countries may agree that market-based agriculture is more efficient than the state/collective system of agriculture, many are concerned about the possible negative social effects of market reforms. In

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the case of Kyrgyzstan, this concern was reflected in the attempt to set aside half of all irrigated arable land for Kyrgyz nationals during the initial phase of reform (1991-1993) in order to support the Kyrgyz peasants’ “way of life.” This attempt to limit private possession of land by non-Kyrgyz nationals, who make up a considerable portion of the total population, contradicted the country’s constitution and was later repealed. However, the concern for the social effects of agrarian reforms can still be seen in the proposed provision that prohibits the foreign ownership of land —a common stipulation in post-Soviet countries. Giovarelli’s chapter also illustrates how reform efforts must be government directed — the government by necessity must oversee its own reformation, a difficult proposition when a wide range of bureaucrats in power may lose authority as a result of reforms. The complete transition from a command-based to a market-based economy requires a tremendous amount of political will and a widespread belief in the overall positive aspects of reform, factors that are lacking in most countries of the former Soviet Union. In possessing these factors, and by receiving substantial international support for its reform efforts, Kyrgyzstan represents a special case within the former Soviet Union. These conditions have yet to develop in most other former Soviet republics, at least to the degree they exist in Kyrgyzstan. Despite Kyrgyzstan’s success, it is questionable whether it will serve as an example for the development of these factors elsewhere. Kyrgyzstan’s peripheral location in the post-Soviet sphere (both physically and psychologically) makes it an unlikely place for a model of transformation to be developed. Uzbekistan At the opposite extreme from Kyrgyzstan in terms of creating a legal infrastructure for land privatization is Uzbekistan, a country where extensive reorganization of collective and state farms belies the persistence of command mechanisms at the core of the agricultural economy. As Craumer has commented elsewhere on agricultural reorganization in Uzbekistan, “the purpose of...land distribution was to alleviate food shortages and improve rural housing and welfare, not to restructure land relations.”9 Jim Butterfield (chapter 5) describes the systematic prevalence of cosmetic reorganization in Uzbekistan, where the cooperative —the direct successor to the state and collective farm —is the basic unit of farm production. The retention of state ownership of land is

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explicitly stated in the Land Code that came into effect on 1 July 1998, with only collectives granted “permanent possession rights” of land. Private plots are held as lifetime inheritable possessions, while peasant farms are granted land in ten- to fifty-year leases. State and cooperative ownership is supplemented by state control over land distribution and the prevention of a land market. Local administrators, or hakims, distribute land and can rescind possession without consulting the courts. Hakims also apparently obstruct the transfer or sale of leases, which is formally legal under recent legislation. The independence of peasant farms in Uzbekistan is limited in several other ways, including a dependence on the former collective and state farms for agricultural inputs and service support. As in many other countries of the former Soviet Union, full-scale reform has been replaced by an increased reliance on personal plots, which have expanded in number and size. As a result, production on personal plots of a wide variety o f agricultural products has risen in recent years. But a dramatic fall in fodder production and artificially low prices on animal products, as well as the retention of power by the collective-state hierarchy, hinder the productivity of personal plots. Butterfield also outlines the social concerns that underlie Uzbekistan’s gradual approach to land reform. He identifies a bias against capitalism as a (strictly) exploitative system, which assumes that agricultural land will be “mistreated, underutilized or neglected” by private owners. This concern may seem surprising in an area that has been devastated by Soviet-era land and water misuse, symbolized by the desiccation of the Aral Sea. The second concern seems more rational: that private ownership will lead to an inequitable distribution of wealth. In a market economy, more efficient farmers will amass larger land holdings at the expense of less efficient farmers, who are driven into the ranks of wage laborers. Indeed, this effect is anticipated and welcomed by proponents of land reform. But this increase in efficiency, while beneficial to overall production, could lead to a substantial rise in unemployment — a frightening prospect to political decision-makers in a country with a notable rural unemployment problem and a rapidly expanding population. The Uzbek leadership must balance these negative effects of true land reform with the positive aspects of increased efficiency that could help offset a degradation of assets (land and machinery) and an increase in domestic demand. Butterfield argues that environmental and demographic realities may eventually

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prompt the Uzbek leadership to accelerate land reform. (See the section on environmental factors below.) Turkey While the challenge of the former Soviet states is to cope with the legacies of an overcentralized agricultural production system, the Turkish challenge is to cope with a mix of small-scale and large-scale farming, for both subsistence and commercial production, in the context of an industrializing economy. According to Paul Kaldjian (chapter 9), the overarching agricultural goal of international institutions and Turkish authorities has been the transformation of smallholders (small landholders) from subsistence to commercial producers, which is expected to fuel economic development based on agro-industries. Small landholdings have been seen as an obstacle to these efforts by international institutions and Turkish authorities, in particular in the smallholders’ perceived unreceptiveness to mechanization and “scientific practices” (use of fertilizer and other inputs). Kaldjian argues that the small landholder is not a barrier to commercialization, and not adverse to modem techniques or market-based interactions. In fact, Kaldjian suggests that a successful agricultural development policy will adopt regionally appropriate agricultural development programs with the small landholder as the centerpiece. Small landholders are well adapted to varying and uncertain economic conditions. Their incomplete, sporadic participation in the market economy is rationally based on the nature of agricultural markets and the need to maintain household food security. Their methods of production are intensive and efficient, and they combine agriculture with cottage-industry activities to supplement household incomes. Contrary to the perception prevalent among planners and policy-makers, agricultural productivity in Turkey is inversely related to the size of land holdings — in most cases smallholders use land resources more intensively than larger, commercial farms. The notion of traditional, subsistence villages isolated from national and global economies is inaccurate, as Turkey’s approximately thirty thousand villages are increasingly tied to remote locations through transportation, communication, migratory, and other linkages. Kaldjian suspects that the misperception of small-farmer backwardness stems in part from incomplete data and conceptual dissonance in defining “small

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farms.” Single crop production is easier to measure than the diverse and varying land uses characteristic of most family farms. In addition, generalizations based on farm size are difficult since small farms range considerably in technology employed, market orientation, and degree of capitalization. Environmental conditions need to be considered, as areas of more favorable environmental potential tend to support smaller farms, whereas areas of less favorable environmental conditions tend to support larger farms. Location also affects the viability and structure of Turkish farms, as small farms specializing in produce and other perishables for urban markets thrive in close proximity to large urban centers. Small landholders are generally at a disadvantage, however, in attaining capital with which to purchase costly inputs or influencing governmental policies and programs. Ironically, Kaldjian suggests that cooperative arrangements may be a viable option for enhancing smallholders’ political and economic positions, thereby preserving small-scale family farming. Whether smallholders, singly or in cooperatives, will be able to influence the development of agricultural technology, which is currently oriented toward large-scale, high-input agribusinesses, remains to be seen. If not, the dissemination of technologies oriented toward agribusinesses may alter the present inverse relationship between farm size and efficiency and reduce further the political standing of small-scale farming in Turkey.

Resource Endowments and Constraints on Economic Development Environmental factors comprise a second important context for agricultural development. Environmental conditions can impose constraints on agricultural production that vary in degree with natural fluctuations (seasonal and other types). These constraints also depend on human factors — the scale of production, the level and type of technology employed, and the organization and efficiency of resource use. Thus, environmental constraints can be conceived of in terms of fairly stable, yet fluctuating, absolute physical limits —total physical amounts of potential resources (e.g., annual precipitation, aquifer recharge rates, total solar exposure, fossil fuel deposits) that are translated into ever-changing production limits (production possibility curves) that shift outward in response

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to innovation and intensification, and inward in response to environmental degradation. Under arid and semi-arid conditions, the dominant constraint is water, which is crucial for agricultural, industrial, and other activities. Land, or more specifically land fertility, is the second most prominent constraint for agriculture, as arid soils generally have a lower organic content (humus) and a higher salt content than soils in temperate humid conditions. These two factors can be ameliorated by applying irrigation water and fertilizers, and “flushing” or “washing” soils by applying large amounts of water, which carries off the harmful salts through a drainage system. The complex, circular nature of environmental constraints is illustrated through the practice of irrigation. Human misapplication of irrigation water has led to such extensive degradation of land and water resources — through waterlogging and secondary salinization —that by some estimates the amount of irrigated land removed from production globally due to human-induced damage roughly equals the amount of land brought into production on an annual basis. These factors play an important role in the Middle East and Central Asia, which, taken together, contain a nearly continuous belt of arid territory, interrupted only by upland areas where precipitation is sufficient to support dryland farming and by mountain ranges that collect precipitation for rivers and streams. The degree of aridity and reliance on irrigation vary significantly across these regions, as described by Michael Bonine (chapter 8) in the case of the greater Middle East. Turkey and Northwest Africa (Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia) stand out as areas where irrigated area constitutes a small proportion of total sown area. Yet irrigated area is important for these countries, too. In the case of Northwest Africa, irrigated lands are highly productive and produce crops for export, as described by Will Swearingen (chapter 7). Northwest Africa Swearingen demonstrates how politically generated economic structures have led to the intensification of agricultural activities, which are “on a collision course” with environmental constraints in Northwest Africa. In the precolonial period, fallowing was widely used to allow soil time to replenish its moisture content naturally. Colonization led to land expropriation and concentration in the hands of Europeans and a small number of native landowners. As a result,

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most native farmers were confined to a much smaller area, often using poorer quality land that had previously been used only for livestock raising. This process of horizontal intensification was combined with the process of vertical intensification, as farmers in old areas were forced to reduce fallow considerably. Both of these processes increased the vulnerability of the area to drought. During the French colonial period, irrigation increased and was used principally for the cultivation of fruit and vegetables for export. Independence only increased the strength of the export sector, as large landholdings were transferred from colonial to native owners, with serious ramifications. The area went from self-sufficiency in cereal production to reliance on food imports. Foreign debt increased, malnutrition occurred during drought years, and political instability increased, as demonstrated by food riots in the 1980s. After independence, the three countries in the region (Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia) recognized the need to improve domestic food production and developed policies accordingly. But these efforts, which include horizontal intensification (development of “new lands”) as well as vertical intensification (through irrigation, mechanization, and a decrease in land devoted to fallow), have not kept pace with population growth and may have exceeded environmental limits. Mechanization has resulted in desertification and land abandonment as tractors and disk plows damage areas that receive marginal amounts of precipitation. Swearingen characterizes this process as mining the soils for a few years during above-normal precipitation, and destroying the soils’ grazing potential by removing natural vegetation. Swearingen anticipates that water and land resources will come under increasing pressure in the near future. Water demand from urban and industrial users is growing dramatically, and the spatial disparity between areas of water supply and water demand is expected to increase. Attempts to meet water demand through interbasin transfers will be costly and difficult for national governments to fund. Declines in grain area in Algeria and Tunisia due to urban expansion and desertification suggest an accelerated decline in per capita grain production levels. The expansion of Moroccan farming into marginal areas and the reduction in fallow indicate that Morocco also may soon experience a contraction in grain area. The immediate result for all three countries may be an increase in the incidence of drought, as Swearingen says, “viewed as a socioeconomic, rather than purely a meteorological phenomenon.”

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The Middle East Bonine demonstrates how agricultural production in several other Middle Eastern countries has reached or exceeds environmentally sustainable limits. Selected areas are highly dependent on groundwater, often fossil water deposited from earlier geologic periods, which cannot be replenished. In cases of quaternary groundwater that can and is being replenished, water use exceeds the replenishment rate. Saudi Arabia presents perhaps the starkest example of unsustainable irrigation. Approximately three-fourths of the country’s irrigated water comes from subsurface sources, a proportion that will increase in the near future, according to Bonine. This water is essentially mined, as it comes mostly from confined, non-renewable aquifers. Tragically, irrigated area is expanding to support an ill-conceived program for food self-sufficiency, and much waste occurs. The Saudi government fosters this waste by providing water for no charge at public wells and allowing unlimited withdrawals from private wells. Groundwater irrigation practices are also unsustainable in Iran, where the use of the ingenious form of irrigation called qanat is widespread, but diminishing. Ironically, the redistribution of land in Iran after the early 1960s has led to the deterioration of the qanat system. The landlord class was traditionally responsible for maintaining the qanat, but when Iranian rural society was reorganized, small farmers did not assume this responsibility effectively. Instead, the promotion of agribusiness in general, and the use of water pumps in particular, have led to a decline in water tables and abandonment of the qanat. Such forms of development are short lived, Bonine observes, as the qanat system allows for sustainable habitation in areas where there would otherwise be none. Through the examples of these and other Middle Eastern countries, Bonine argues that “development” must be sustainable in order to be considered true development. Sustainable development, in turn, must include social or cultural sustainability as an integral component. Bonine argues that technological and other innovations must occur “within the framework of the existing rural socioeconomic structures.” He cautions against land reform and technological change that can undermine social entities integral to the sustainable use of water and other resources. In this way, Bonine goes beyond the concerns for local participation in natural resource management expressed in Agenda 21 and

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related United Nations programs by advocating a comprehensive approach to social-environmental interactions. The participation of social groups in resource management and use is important. But as or more important is the preservation of social structures that promote or ensure sustainable resource use. Central Asia In the case of Central Asia, where qanat systems in southern Turkmenistan were destroyed in an earthquake in the middle of the present century, environmental and demographic realities may prompt an acceleration of land reform in the near future, according to Butterfield. The push for grain self-sufficiency has forced many farms to reduce sharply the area sown to fodder crops, a major priority during the late Soviet period. Fodder crops — alfalfa in particular — are important in maintaining soil fertility, which has been declining in recent decades, especially in areas subject to cotton monoculture. Waterlogging, secondary salinization, and other irrigation malpractices are compounded by a poor and deteriorating irrigation and desalinization infrastructure, which will require massive investments to maintain — investments that the Uzbek government, for example, is unwilling or unable to allocate. The diversion of the Syr Dar’ia and Amu Dar’ia, the two main rivers in the region, and the resultant desiccation of the Aral Sea have severely negatively affected the health and agricultural potential of downstream areas. Butterfield argues that under these circumstances, and with an annual population growth rate of over 2 percent, Uzbekistan needs to allow efficient farmers access to more land, which can only be achieved through a land market. Philip Micklin (chapter 6) demonstrates the problematic nature of water allocation in post-Soviet Central Asia and the importance of geographic realities. During the Soviet period, water allocation in the Aral Sea basin, the core watershed region of Central Asia, was centrally controlled from Moscow. The vast majority of the basin’s area lies within former Soviet territory, so water use in Afghanistan and Iran, which also contain portions of the Aral Sea water system, could be ignored. Disputes were settled internally through centralized ministries based in Moscow. Since the dissolution of the Soviet Union, centralized control has given way to tense, unstable international arrangements. No single state can exert hegemonic power over others to dictate water use in

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the basin, although Uzbekistan, the largest, most populous, and most centrally located state, can effectively block cooperative arrangements unilaterally. The geographic distribution of water demand and supply contribute to tensions over water allocation. Water formation of the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia occurs at high elevations, principally in Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, where comparatively little irrigated agriculture takes place. Water consumption, primarily in the form of irrigated agriculture, occurs at lower elevations, mainly in Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, where little water formation takes place. This disparity between water formation and consumption is perhaps best illustrated by the case of Turkmenistan, the second-largest producer of cotton in the region, which contributes less than 1 percent of total water formation in the Aral Sea basin system. Upstream and downstream designations become relative in the cases of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, which have clashed over water diversions to the downstream Kara-Kum Canal, the water lifeline of the latter. The spatial disparities in water distribution are reinforced by disparities in the distribution of fossil fuels. The upstream countries, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, are comparatively deficient in fossil fuel deposits and dependent on downstream countries (and Russia) for energy imports. Of course, the upstream countries have large actual and potential energy resources in the form of water for hydroelectric power. But attempts by Kyrgyzstan in particular to alter long­ standing water allocation agreements and divert large quantities of water for hydroelectric generation have resulted in severe conflicts with its downstream neighbors, Uzbekistan and Kazakstan. Environmental effects are also spatially differentiated. Areas farthest downstream are most affected by irrigation overuse and misuse. An increase in saline return waters and a reduction in river flow volumes have raised river salinity levels, negatively affecting downstream crop yields. And although the desiccation of the Aral Sea affects a wide area beyond its former shoreline, the areas most severely affected comprise a small portion of the downstream states —areas that carry relatively little political clout. Tremendous potential exists for improving the efficiency of water use in Central Asia, but the cost of implementing such changes is beyond the reach of the national governments, which are unable at the moment to simply maintain irrigation systems at their Soviet-era level of efficiency. As in most areas of the Middle East, efforts to improve the agricultural sector in Central Asia must take

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into account the needs of an expanding domestic population for foodstuffs and employment. Micklin suggests that a key factor in improving the region’s condition is interstate cooperation. International donors have assisted in “capacity building” — the establishment of viable institutions and fora for addressing water-related problems. But the ultimate success of these arrangements depends on the riparian states’ governments themselves, which guard their newly acquired autonomy jealously and seek to maximize their own standing in a perceived zero-sum game. As Micklin argues, the future of the region depends on the ability of national elites to subsume short-term, narrow interests into the good of the long-term development of the basin as a whole. International aid and lending efforts can only be supplementary to locally based programs, which to date have been given far less support than the original commitments made by the republics in the aftermath of the breakup of the Soviet Union.

Demographic Processes Demographic factors represent a third important context for agricultural development. As mentioned above, changes in the agricultural sector are closely linked to urban-rural population dynamics, as changes in the agricultural means of production, wage rate, demand, and related factors prompt rural-urban migration, the pace of which is critical to both urban and rural development. The rural population growth rate and the perceived opportunities of urban life are important determinants in the potential for rural-urban migration. The study area of the present volume is clearly divided in terms of demographic processes. Central Asia and the Middle East are similar in having high rural and overall population growth rates, while Russia is experiencing demographic decline and a short-lived rural demographic “revival.” The high population growth rates of Central Asia and the Middle East are roughly coterminous with the arid and semi-arid climatic constraints discussed above. Several authors in the present volume discuss the ways in which population growth exacerbates, or has the potential to exacerbate, environmental constraints in the two regions. And, as noted above, Butterfield suggests that high population growth may eventually contribute to a decision to accelerate land reform in Uzbekistan.

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Bonine’s appeal for protecting social sustainability has a strong demographic component. He argues that the destruction of rural society can lead to excessive rural-urban migration in the case of the Middle East, which can lead to political instability and an acceleration of urban social problems. Bonine recommends controlling population growth as well as supporting small and medium-size farms, integral components of a “healthy socioeconomic rural society.” Swearingen voices many of these same concerns regarding rural population growth and political instability in Northwest Africa, where rising food demand has prompted the development of government policies supporting agricultural intensification (discussed below). Dmitry Sharkov (chapter 3) describes the anomalous demographic situation in Russia, the only industrialized or post-industrialized country to experience negative population growth during peacetime. Yet Russia also experienced positive rural population growth from 1992 to 1995. Sharkov argues that the demographic revival of the Russian countryside will prove to be short lived, however. The increase in the share and absolute numbers of rural inhabitants from 1992 to 1995 was a result of primarily Russian immigrants from the former Soviet Union, an immigrant stream that has decreased considerably in recent years. Sharkov argues that immigration potential is now quite low under current socioeconomic conditions. With a decrease in immigration, rural population has started to decline, returning to the long-term trend of rural depopulation that characterized Russia for most of the twentieth century. A combination of demographic and socioeconomic factors has resulted in Russia’s rural natural decrease. The current small cohorts reflect “echoes” from earlier periods of low demographic growth. But they also reflect the sharp economic decline and uncertainty that have existed since the dissolution of the Soviet Union. Administrative reclassification added significantly to the brief increase in rural population in the early 1990s. But since 1993, reclassification has been a relatively minor factor. In addition to a sharp decrease in immigration flows, the temporary upswing in rural population does not constitute a rural revival due to the perception and goals of migrants. Immigrants cannot be expected to remain in the countryside, which is but a temporary destination for many. Most recent immigrants are former urban residents from other Soviet republics who have as their ultimate destination the large cities of European Russia. This is reflected in part by the trend to settle in oblasts (provinces) containing or adjacent to large

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cities, such as Leningrad Oblast. Urban-rural migrants, on the other hand, came in response to economic factors associated with the early post-Soviet years — food shortages and the prospect of land privatization in particular. These factors have lost some of their relevance in recent years, and cannot be expected to act as motivation factors for urban residents in the future. The future development of the rural sector depends to a large extent on the most dynamic portion of the rural population — those in their twenties — many of whom are migrating to the large Russian urban areas or beyond (to the West). For this group, the poor working conditions, lack of social amenities, and lower general appeal of rural areas prompt them to leave. These factors have not been greatly affected by the social and economic changes of the post-Soviet period. They remain constant factors leading to the long-term depopulation of the countryside. Sharkov raises the question of the relationship between demographic changes and agrarian reform. He suggests that declining numbers negatively affected the lack of progress in transforming the preexisting legal/economic regime. If the demographic revival had been maintained, the political power of the rural sector would have increased. As a consequence, a transformed agrarian regime would have attracted additional urban-rural migrants and perhaps altered the attitude of urban-oriented immigrants from abroad — from one of opportunistic route-seeking, to rural settlement and a commitment to improving the Russian rural scene. This relationship between migration and the legal/economic regime in Russia illustrates the self-reinforcing, “path” nature of agricultural development in general.

Governmental Policies: Food Self-Sufficiency Governmental action, or inaction, is a crucial element in the agricultural development of Russia, Central Asia, and the Middle East, as in all regions of the world. All of the three factors discussed above - land reform, natural resource use, and demographic processes - have been greatly affected by governmental decisions and measures. The very nature of land reform involves governmental action and a transformation of the role of bureaucratic actors at various levels. As the above section on natural resource use demonstrates, governmental policies can restrict development in such a way as to test

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environmental limits, and intergovernmental relations can play a crucial role in the allocation of scarce water resources. As mentioned previously with regard to population dynamics, the effects of demographic processes are exacerbated by governmental decision-making in many countries in the study area. A widespread policy in Central Asia and the Middle East is food selfsufficiency, which has attained the status of a security issue in several countries. As discussed above, Swearingen demonstrates the way in which efforts to increase food production in marginal areas have led to desertification in Northwest Africa. With regard to Uzbekistan, Butterfield describes how an explicit government policy of food self-sufficiency has led to a displacement of cotton by grain, and a retention of state control over grain (as well as cotton) production. Peasant farms are still subject to state orders for grain and cotton crops, albeit indirectly through quotas assigned to the state or collective farms from which private farms have been created. Thus, state agricultural output imperatives and the desire to control production have greatly slowed true reform in Uzbekistan. Bonine makes a distinction between food security and self-sufficiency in food production, and he argues that the two should not be equated with each other. He points out the irrationality of several food programs in the Middle East, such as Saudi Arabia’s wheat scheme, which are costly and inefficient. Bonine recognizes the widening disparity between food production and demand in the Middle East, the greatest of any world region, but he suggests that interstate cooperation and a system of secure food imports would be more rational than each country in the region attempting to become self-sufficient in food production. Kaldjian also questions the rationality of defining food security as self-sufficiency in food production in an era in which a substantial portion of agricultural inputs - machinery, spare parts, fertilizer, and even water - may come from abroad. Indeed, in the context of the oil-exporting economies of the Middle East, where labor, consumer goods, and other items are imported in large quantities, a policy of food self-sufficiency seems grossly misplaced. Such issues resonate in Central Asia, where grain production has not met government goals of self-sufficiency. As far as Russia is concerned, food production there relies on the small producer to an even greater extent than during the Soviet period. As mentioned above, Ioffe describes how production on personal plots has increased in recent years and prevented widespread malnutrition and starvation, contrary to the

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expectations of many in the West. But is the personal plot, which also plays a prominent role in other post-Soviet states, the ideal model for achieving food self-sufficiency? Ioffe thinks not, and, in a tongue-in-cheek statement, admits that he prefers “a supermarket.” The personal plot is, nonetheless, the resilient backbone of post-socialist agriculture in Russia and may remain so for some time.

Conclusion: Small-Scale Production and the “Evolution” of Agricultural Systems Several chapters in this collection underscore the importance of small-scale agriculture — as a necessity for survival under adverse economic conditions, as an efficient form of production for urban-oriented horticulture, and as part of a sustainable rural system of irrigated agriculture based on the qanat. These observations coincide with those of a wider literature on small-scale agriculture (e.g., Netting; Goering et al.) that question the rationality of the classic industrial model of agricultural development, a model of agro-industrial production shared by both capitalist and socialist systems, albeit in different forms. This literature demonstrates the efficiency of small-scale production in certain settings in comparison to large-scale agro-production using urban-generated machinery, inputs, and scientific knowledge. Some, such as Netting, suggest that the smallholder form of agriculture is a logical adaptation “where conditions of population density and market relationships are conducive to intensive, sustainable production,”10 and that this form may, in fact, become resurgent in the United States itself, the heart of industrial agribusiness. Such a trend would disprove the evolutionary view of agricultural development as progressing monotonically from primitive subsistence agriculture to large-scale, industrial, commercialized agriculture. In what ways can small-scale production be encouraged, if this is indeed a goal of agricultural development? There is no single answer to this question, but land reform that seeks to empower those who actually work the land is clearly part of the answer. Encouraging small-scale production also requires some sort of “marriage” between traditional agricultural practices and modem technologies. Attempts to foster indigenous knowledge and appropriate technology have occurred in other world regions, but, to this author’s

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knowledge, they have not occurred in a systematic manner in Russia, Turkey, and other countries in the study area. Such a combination could help alleviate problems presented by demographic changes, environmental constraints, and poorly conceived or poorly implemented government programs. Supporting small-scale production, however, requires a devolution of political and economic decision-making to small land owners, and a reorientation of capital, infrastructure, and technology to small-scale farmers. These are difficult processes in the face of formidable political obstacles and a general bias that development involves large-scale, highly visible, and easily measurable production. Vested interests at various levels (e.g., the former collective farm, regional administrations, irrigation-water management bodies, and the national legislature) often use the banner of “science” to conceal political motivations for retaining economic control and impeding progress toward participatory agriculture. International lending organizations have begun to recognize the need for direct connections to local decision-makers. But these connections are difficult to establish in states where civil society is not well established and state control extends to nongovernmental organizations (through so-called governmental nongovernmental organizations and in other ways). As with so many other aspects of development, the preconditions for and effects of participatory agriculture are circular in nature: the economic vitality of the smallholder class can beget political power, which, in turn, can allow for an increase in economic wealth. How can the first step along this self-reinforcing path be taken? In general, the papers in this collection do not address this question. Instead, they stress implicitly the need to understand the specific political, historical, and geographic contexts of development before such a step can be taken.

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1. For a discussion of the state’s role in rural developmental processes, see Just Faaland and Jack Parkinson, “The Nature of the State and the Role of Government in Agricultural Development,” in Agriculture and the State: Growth, Employment, and Poverty in Developing Countries, ed. C. Peter Timmer (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1991), pp. 247-287. 2. Karl H. Menges, “People, Languages, and Migrations,” in Central Asia, 130 Years o f Russian Dominance: A Historical Overview, ed. Edward Allworth (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1994), p. 66. 3. See Margaret Bainbridge, ed., The Turkic Peoples o f the World (London; New York: Kegan Paul International, 1993). 4. See Sergei P. Poliakov, Everyday Islam: Religion and Tradition in Rural Central Asia (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1992); and Reuel Hanks, “Civil Society and Identity in Uzbekistan: The Emergent Role of Islam,” in Civil Society in Central Asia, eds. M. Holt Ruffin and Daniel C. Waugh (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1999), pp. 158-179. 5. See Boris Z. Rumer, Soviet Central Asia: A Tragic Experiment (Boston: Unwin Hyman, 1989). 6. See Michael Rywkin, Moscow's Muslim Challenge: Soviet Central Asia (Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1982); and William Fierman, ed., Soviet Central Asia: The Failed Transformation (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991). 7. Holt M. Ruffin, “Introduction,” in Civil Society in Central Asia, eds. Holt M. Ruffin and Daniel C. Waugh (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1999), p. 9. 8. See Martha Brill Olcott, Central Asia’s New States: Independence, Foreign Policy, and Regional Security (Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1996). 9. Peter Craumer, Rural and agricultural development in Uzbekistan, Former Soviet South Papers (London: Royal Institute of International Affairs, Russian and CIS Programme; Washington, DC: Distributed by the Brookings Institution, 1995), p. 7. 10. Robert McC. Netting, Smallholders, Householders: Farm Families and the Ecology o f Intensive, Sustainable Agriculture (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1993), p. 27.

Rural Development in Eurasia and the Middle East

1 / Change in Russian Agrarian Reform, 1992-1998: The Case o f Kostroma Oblast Stephen K. Wegren1

Several years ago, the first detailed case study of Russian agrarian reform based upon research in Kostroma Oblast appeared with a two-fold purpose: to postulate a set of hypotheses about early patterns of agrarian reform and factors affecting reform outcomes that could be tested by other authors doing fieldwork; and to analyze the course of agrarian reform in a non-black-earth oblast as a goal unto itself.2 At the time, the selection of Kostroma Oblast itself was fortuitous, but there were and are sound analytical reasons for researching a nonblack-earth region.3 To understand the analytical importance of the non-black earth-zone, it is necessary to keep in mind the goals of agrarian reform. In the economic realm, agrarian reform was expected to transform the rural economic system, making it more modem by attracting foreign investment, more competitive in world markets, and generating food surpluses for export which would provide capital for society-wide modernization. In short, agrarian reform was intended to make the mral economy more efficient, productive, and cost effective, thereby leading to other benefits such as lower-cost food, reduced subsidies, and higher consumer satisfaction. In the political arena, it was hoped successful agrarian reform would build mral political support for market reforms. However, the countryside has remained generally conservative, as surveys have demonstrated, and has been a base of social and electoral opposition to market reforms.4 Dichotomous voting patterns between urban and mral voters were evident during the parliamentary elections of 1993 and 1995, as well as the presidential runoffs in 1996.5 Therefore, the non-black-earth zone, and specifically the Central Economic Region, are important for a number of reasons. First, the Central Economic Region is in the heart of Russia and has close proximity to Moscow, which translates into political sensitivity. In 1998, non-black-earth regions accounted for almost 53 million people (not including the city of Moscow), which was equal to 36 percent of the total population in the Russian Federation.6 Second, Soviet agricultural policies, particularly under Brezhnev and continuing into the Gorbachev period, benefited economically weak and high-cost farms and

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regions. Therefore, one method for testing the reversal of past rural egalitarianism is to examine areas where “the weak” benefited during Soviet times. Third, although production gains from successful reform would be much greater in southern black-earth regions, an examination of non-black-earth regions reflects the degree to which market reforms have penetrated even the least advantaged regions. Since that early analysis of Kostroma Oblast, the literature on Russian agrarian reform has grown significantly. Particularly valuable have been attitudinal surveys, surveys of reform processes and rural change, and monographs based upon fieldwork.7 While these aforementioned publications concentrate on Russia, other studies have incorporated analyses of land reform in various Eastern European states and former Soviet republics.8 Despite the proliferation of new studies, a detailed case study remains valuable for understanding the successes and failures of agrarian reform in Russia. As was stipulated in the original 1992 article, an analysis of a single oblast presents both opportunities and limitations. A case study is primarily limited in the ability to generalize from the experience of a single locale. Russia is a large country with a great deal of regional diversity, and thus questions justifiably arise as to the representativeness of one oblast. In the original 1992 article I wrote: “ideally, one would like to be able to generalize from Kostroma's experience in agricultural reform, but given Russia's more than 80 oblasts, krais, and okrugs, this would prove to be extremely difficult at best.”9 Any paper based on a case study, therefore, cannot solve the issue of n=l, but it can shed more light on many generalizations and further our understanding. A case study allows a detailed examination, which yields a deeper understanding of change in the rural sector. A case study also allows a detailed examination about the processes and causes underlying reform trends. Quite simply, an oblast-level case study, especially a longitudinal study, yields insights that a study using the nation as the unit of analysis is unable to do. For purposes of the present paper, the limitations of a single case study are offset by the ability to gain greater insight into processes and the types of problems that have been encountered during agrarian reform. In short, although Kostroma may not be representative of all regions in Russia, the case study approach can provide a cross section of what has happened in the agricultural sector since 1992. The present paper draws upon several years of fieldwork in Kostroma Oblast, thereby providing longitudinal perspective on the course of agrarian

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reform. The goals of this paper are to update the original 1992 article about Kostroma Oblast by analyzing the course and consequences of agrarian reform; to provide an updated basis for comparison with other oblasts; and to analyze changes in the agrarian sector since 1992. The analysis of Kostroma Oblast is built upon two main hypotheses: (1) that there has been significant change in the rural sector during the 1990s, and (2) that although regional variations exist, many reform trends in Kostroma Oblast conform to general trends found throughout most of European rural Russia (the main exceptions being the Volga and Northern Caucasus regions). Within the Central Economic Region, excluding the two outliers — the richest oblast (Moscow) and the poorest oblast (Ivanovo) —Kostroma Oblast is a mainstream oblast, with differences in degree, not kind.10 In addition, a primary motivation of the paper is to assess critically several ideas that have become widely accepted. Conventional wisdom about agrarian reform in Russia has argued that rural change has been minimal. The conceptual problem facing analysts of the rural sector is that the criteria for and measurement of change have not always been explicit. Several analysts have adopted the implicit yardstick that change should be measured by the spread of Western-type private farms (even though in the United States the trend is away from family farms and toward larger corporate farms). These analysts are disappointed in the rate and nature of rural reform because Russia is still far from the Western model.11 Conversely, if one measures change as movement away from Soviet-era institutions, practices, and policies, the degree of change has been significant. I will argue that actual change in the Russian agro­ industrial complex has been notable and important, if not always beneficial to the rural sector. In short, if this paper is successful, it will become clear that the crucial question is not “did change occur,” but rather “what type of change has occurred?” A second common argument has been that conservative forces have opposed, even blocked, rural change. This political question has been analyzed in other publications.12 This is a difficult question to untangle, as it is not clear whether reform was resisted by the rural population owing to innate conservatism or as a response to state policies that have been inherently destructive to the rural sector. At least one author has attempted to shed light on this question by analyzing incentive structures that confront rural actors.13 In general, a key question is, “given the nature of reform policies toward the rural

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Stephen K. Wegren

sector, why have responses by rural actors been a surprise?” It would require a truly “irrational” peasantry to support the type of agrarian reform pursued since 1992, and peasants are anything but irrational.14 The remainder of this article will examine what has changed in Russian agriculture since 1992. The criteria used to establish “change” are differences from Soviet-era institutions, practices, and policies. The examination of Kostroma Oblast will analyze those changes by dividing them into different categories. These categories are Rural Demographics, The Collective Sector, The Private Sector, and The Land Market.

Rural Demographics Since 1992, the demographic situation for the oblast as a whole has changed in the following ways. First, during 1992-1998, the permanent population declined by just over 2 percent, from 812,400 in 1992 to 791,400 at the beginning of 1998. This downward trend matches historical patterns. Historically, declines in the population were greatest during the 1960s and early 1970s. Kostroma’s total population declined about 6 percent between the 1959 and 1970 census, and it had declined by another 8 percent at the time of the 1979 census. However, within that macro-trend, by the mid-1970s the population had already stabilized, and from then until the late 1980s the size of the population did not vary by more than 1 percent.15 The post-Soviet decline in the total population is attributed to falling birth rates and rising death rates, and this trend represents a change from the Soviet period.16 Prior to the introduction of market reforms, birth rates exceeded death rates. Since 1992, however, the death rate has exceeded the birth rate, and the gap has increased over time. In 1992, the “natural increase” per 1,000 persons was -5.1. The decline increased to -9.5 in 1994 and equaled -8.6 in 1997.17 Finally, the overall decline in the total population during the contemporary period would have been greater except for the fact that Kostroma Oblast has been a net recipient of new migrants, and again this represents a change from the Soviet period.18 Prior to the introduction of market reforms, the primary cause for reductions in the size of the population was out-migration. Turning specifically to the rural population, one of the basic historical demographic trends has been a declining rural population as a result of rural out­

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

7

migration and a rural mortality rate that exceeded the birth rate. In 1970, the rural population totaled 406,100 persons, or 47 percent of the oblast’s population. By 1991, the rural population declined to 253,100, or 31 percent of the oblast's population. The reduction in the size of the rural population and its percentage of the total population mirrored national trends throughout the Russian Republic. Since the beginning of market reforms, however, two notable changes in rural demographics have become evident. First, the size of the rural population stabilized and then increased. The rural population in Kostroma Oblast showed clear signs of stabilization as early as 1992. In 1992, sixteen of the oblast’s twenty-four raions had at least as many rural residents as in 1991; nine of the sixteen had experienced an increase in rural population. Overall, from 1992 through 1994 the rural population in Kostroma Oblast increased by 24,000 persons, or almost 10 percent over its 1992 level. While the percentage of increase was not sufficient to offset decades of rural population decline, it is important to note it represented a reversal of long-term historical trends.19 This historical trend resumed in the mid-1990s. Starting in 1995 and continuing into 1998, the rural population in Kostroma contracted by about 9,000; even so, in 1998 the rural population was still some 15,000 more than in 1992. Second, the key to changes in rural demographic patterns has been rural inmigration. Rural in-migration is important because the ratio of births to deaths in the rural population for Russia as a whole started to decline in 1992, and has continued to decline thereafter. For decades, the Soviet countryside experienced net out-migration, a trend that was true for Russia as a whole. These trends hold for Kostroma as well. Migration data in Table 1.1 show that by the mid-1980s in Kostroma Oblast the countryside became a net recipient of migrants, and in this respect Kostroma anticipated national trends. Starting in 1986, rural arrivals exceeded rural departures in Kostroma, and this trend has continued uninterrupted through 1997.20 Significantly, although the data in Table 1.1 are only partial, they do reflect an inflow of younger persons into the countryside, in particular aged 30-39, and these persons are in general well educated. Persons with at least a secondary education accounted for 50-60 percent of rural arrivals during the 1990s. These two trends — age and education — also represent a reversal of long-term historical trends, as numerous sociological studies and surveys have demonstrated that it was precisely the young, the educated (or those desiring an education), and the skilled who left the Soviet countryside.

Stephen K. Wegren

8

Table 1.1. Rural Migration in Kostroma Oblast, 1965-1997 Year

#

#

Net Rural

Arrivals Departures Migration ______________________________________ (+/-) (+/-) 97,065

-30,206

% of Net Arrivals Aged 20-29

% of Net Arrivals Aged 30-39

NA

NA

1965-1969

66,859

1970-1974

71,141

94,885

-23,744

NA

NA

1975-1979

64,496

76,410

-11,914

NA

NA

1980-1984

53,889

58,242

-4,353

NA

NA

1985-1989

76,139

70,031

+6,108

NA

NA

1990

15,261

13,632

+1,629

NA

NA

1991

12,000

10,643

+1,357

32%

23%

1992

10,417

8,008

+2,409

20%

19%

1993

9,392

8,374

+1,018

-17%

36%

1994

9,210

8,158

+1,052

2%

^

32%

1995

8,643

7,926

+717

NA*

NA*

1996

6,748

6,576

+172

NA

NA

1997

6,403

6,201

+202

NA

NA

NA=Not available *Beginning in 1995, Goskomstat data no longer separated urban and rural migration by age group.

Sources: Unpublished archival data from Kostroma Goskomstat; M igratsiia naseleniia Kostrom skoi oblasti (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat) (annual issues o f 1993-1998); and author's calculations.

Migration data show that new migrants in rural areas settle most often in Kostromskoi raion, in which the city of Kostroma (the oblast center) is located.21 In the oblast, the city of Kostroma is dominant in its level of economic development and the size of its population, factors that translate into an attractive food market. About 54 percent of the oblast’s total urban population lives in the city of Kostroma. Outside the city of Kostroma the urban population is scattered, as in 1996 only five cities had urban populations exceeding 20,000. Farms that surround the city are in an advantageous position for a variety of reasons: they enjoy a relatively good road system, they have access to technical

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

9

expertise from the local agricultural academy, they can attract workers relatively easily and are able to find replacements due to their proximity to the city, and they benefit from a robust food market from the demand created by a large urban population. Migration into Kostromskoi raion is important because it provides a stimulus to the local land market and because demand for rural land from migrants provides another source of competition for land for would-be private farmers or existing private farmers who desire to expand their landholdings. Both private farming and the land market will be analyzed in sections below, but suffice it to say here that private farmers in Kostromskoi raion never exceeded more than 4.6 percent of all land used for private farming in the oblast — the high point being attained in 1994 — and at the end of 1997 private farmers in this raion used 4.1 percent of agricultural land used for private farming in the oblast. In a number of important respects, therefore, demographic trends in postSoviet Russia stand in contrast to trends evident during the Soviet period. Regarding the rural sector, the interesting question is how long positive net migration into rural areas will continue, and data indicate a slowing of rural arrivals both in Kostroma and more generally throughout Russia. We should note that within Russia the dominant migration pattern continues to be rural to urban (more rural people move to urban areas than the opposite). However, the countryside has benefited from in-migration from former republics, including many former urban residents. Another interesting question, therefore, is how long these former urbanites will remain in the countryside, and whether they will migrate into cities if urban economic conditions improve.

The Collective Sector The collective sector in Russia — state and collective farms and their legal successors — has changed in important ways. First, in the legal realm, the juridical status of state and collective farms has changed considerably since 1992. At the end of 1991, a farm reorganization program was announced, commencing in January 1992 and continuing into 1994. The purpose of this program was to change the juridical status of Soviet-era state and collective farms, in effect transferring ownership of property from centralized government

10

Stephen K. Wegren

to farm members. This process and the options for reorganization have been described in detail elsewhere, but can be summarized thusly. During the reorganization of sovkhozy (state farms) and kolkhozy (collective farms) throughout Russia that began in 1992, a general meeting of farm members was convened at which members were given various options for their farm's future. The first option was for the farm to disband, distributing all land and property to farm members. This option was obligatory for chronically unprofitable farms, which applied to about 10 percent of state and collective farms. A second option was to remain a collective farm, based on Yeltsin's decree of March 1992. The third option was to reorganize by creating a partnership of “limited responsibility,” of the “open type.” This was a jointstock company in which persons outside the kolkhoz, as well as present members of the kolkhoz, could purchase stock in the reorganized kolkhoz using their land and/or property shares. Remuneration and responsibility would be based on the profits of the reorganized kolkhoz and an individual’s shares in that company. A fourth option was to create a joint-stock company of the “closed type,” tovarishchestvo s ogranichennoi otvetstvennostiu (TOO), renamed in 1996 to obshchestvo s ogranichennoi otvetstvennostiu (OOO). The TOOs/OOOs only permit membership and share ownership among farm members. Individual members receive land shares, which in the black-earth region of southern Russia are approximately 4 to 5 hectares (ha) per farm member. If a member left the TOO/OOO, he or she would be compensated for his or her share in cash. The labor remuneration for each household would depend on the profits of the TOO/OOO and the number of members of that household who were working for it. Individual members must work for the TOO/OOO, so that they are in virtually the same position as members working on collective farms. During farm reorganization, nationwide data show that about 34 percent of state and collective farms retained their previous status. The most popular form of reorganization was the closed joint-stock farm, or TOO, chosen by about 47 percent of former state and collective farms. In sum, even after farm reorganization, about 90 percent of former state and collective farms had adopted some form of collective labor organization, which meant that the farm and its property remained intact, and labor organization remained collective, that is, based on labor brigades.

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

11

Within Kostroma Oblast, farm reorganization patterns were in some ways different from national trends. According to unpublished statistical data obtained by this author, only 9 percent of kolkhozy and 16 percent of sovkhozy retained their previous status, much lower than national averages. The fact that so few farms retained their previous status suggested the weak financial position of most farms in the oblast. However, it is important to note that 86 percent of reorganized farms chose some form of collective labor organization, roughly similar to national trends. The fact that most farms retained collective labor organization even after reorganization led some analysts to argue that nothing had changed and that “reorganized” farms were virtually indistinguishable from previously “unreorganized” farms. This argument has an element of truth, but also overlooks several important changes that have occurred: 1) During the Soviet period, all farm land and property belonged to the state. In the post-Soviet period, farmland and property have been destatized and farms are now legally owned “privately” by farm members. 2) During the Soviet period, neither farm members nor land users owned the land on which they worked. Even during the late Gorbachev period land leasing was permitted, but not landownership. During the post-Soviet period, land certificates, or deeds, have been distributed to nearly all farm members, empowering them with the right to sell, buy, bequeath, trade, lease, or give away their land shares. Farm members are now shareholders of farmland, and a rudimentary land market has emerged.22 3) During the Soviet period, departure from the farm was possible, but often difficult. In the post-Soviet period, resignation from a farm is much easier than during the Soviet period. Interviews with farm managers revealed that under contemporary conditions, if a person does not want to work on the farm, the manager does not try to block his departure. The. size of the labor force engaged in agricultural production in Kostroma Oblast declined from 44,362 in 1992 to 30,574 in 1998 - 31 percent.23 4) In the Soviet period, job security was assured, and one could depend upon cradle-to-grave job security. In the post-Soviet period, job security for employees on larger farms has declined, as farm managers now have authority not only over remuneration but also the power to fire poor workers and hire new employees. Based on interviews with farm managers, even when the farm's total labor force remained roughly the same size, labor turnover has increased substantially, particularly on farms with proximity to the city of Kostroma.

Stephen K. Wegren

12

5) During the Soviet period, labor payment started to become increasingly monetarized under First Secretary Khrushchev, and in 1966, General Secretary Brezhnev introduced minimum monthly wage levels for kolkhozniki (collective farm workers), which effectively completed the monetarization of rural wages. In the post-Soviet period, forms of labor payment have been increasingly demonetarized, as farms, strapped for cash and heavily in debt, commonly substitute payment in kind for monetary payments. The extent of this substitution depends of course on the financial condition of the farm. Interviews with farm managers on some of the best farms in Kostroma Oblast during the summer of 1998 revealed that 25-33 percent of total wages came from payments in kind. 6) During the Soviet period, average urban-rural income differentials were reduced, so much so that by the mid-to-late 1980s rural incomes were virtually on a par with average industrial wages: in 1985, collective farm workers received 96 percent the average wage of industrial workers. During the postSoviet period in Kostroma Oblast, which reflects national trends, a significant urban-rural income gap has emerged as urban incomes have diverged from rural incomes (not including income from private plot production). Market reforms have spurred increased inequality between urban and rural employees: in 1991 collective farm workers received 82 percent the average wage of industrial workers, and in 1997 this percentage declined to 64 percent.24 Perhaps the most important oversight made by those who argue that the collective farming sector has not changed concerns the production and financial spheres in which farms operate, as well as in food trade. The production and financial environments have deteriorated significantly in Kostroma Oblast, as in all rural regions of Russia, even in productive southern regions such as the Volga Economic Region.25 Within Kostroma Oblast, as throughout Russia, several significant trends in the production and financial spheres have emerged since 1992. The Production Sphere Since 1992, the food production sphere has changed considerably, as indicated by an examination of input and output data. On the input side, the amount of mineral fertilizers applied, farm mechanization, amount of cultivated land, and rural labor declined. Declining utilization of inputs and decreased consumer

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

13

demand had an effect on food production: total food production decreased, animal herds became smaller, and crop yields declined. These trends in Kostroma Oblast reflect national trends, although the magnitude of the decline varies by region. Input and output trends for Kostroma Oblast are illustrated in Table 1.2 below. In viewing the data in Table 1.2, several comments are necessary. First, the data are for large agricultural enterprises only, that is, state and collective farms and their legal successors. Outputs from the private sector will be dealt with separately. Second, the declines evidenced in the table would be even more substantial if 1990 or even 1991 were used as the base year. Third, production declines in the collective sector have been offset somewhat by production increases in the private sector, in particular among private plot holders. We will examine the private sector in more detail below, but suffice it to say that there has been a significant shift in the primary food producer in the oblast. In 1992, agricultural enterprises accounted for 59 percent of food production in the oblast, and private plot production accounted for 40 percent. By the end of 1997, output by agricultural enterprises accounted for just 39 percent of total food output, while private plot output accounted for 60 percent of the oblast's food, with private farmers producing the remaining 1 percent. Thus, a fundamental shift in the structure of food output occurred during the years of reform. Most important, these data reflect the necessity that farms change their operation. Critics who assert farms have not changed their operations significantly have in mind the fact that labor brigades remain a primary form of labor organization and the fact that farm managers attempt to “protect” farm members.26 But beyond those two narrow aspects —which are offset by the fact that farm managers now require diligent work and may fire laggards —it simply is difficult to imagine how large farms could use less land and fertilizer, have less farm machinery, consume less electricity, receive lower levels of subsidies, have greater financial responsibilities (as will be discussed below), and not change their operations. Farm managers have had to become much more creative to keep operations functioning and responsive to keep farm members satisfied. The result is that larger farms have adapted to new conditions: they have changed the way in which they use land by shifting production mixes, they have curtailed expenses by reducing livestock herds, they have adapted to the changes in the way farms are financed, and they have entered into a new era of food marketing.

14

Stephen K. Wegren Table 1.2. Use of Inputs and Food Outputs on Large Agricultural Enterprises in Kostroma Oblast, 1992-1997 1992

1994

1997

575

516

490

-

18

16

14*

- 22 %

Workload per tractor (ha o f arable land)

55

62

72

+31%

Application o f mineral fertilizers (tons)

45**

18

2.9

-94%

Grain yields (centners per ha)

11.5

12.0

9.8

-15%

Cultivated agricultural land (thousands o f

% Change, 1992-1997 15%

ha) Number o f tractors per 1000 ha o f arable land

Potato yields (centners per ha)

97

85

124

+28%

Vegetable yields (centners per ha)

104

139

143

+37.5%

Grain production (thousands o f tons)

318.2

256.7

196.7

-38%

Potato production (thousands o f tons)

74.5

45.7

40.9

-45%

Vegetable production (thousands o f tons)

15

12.7

4.4

-61%

Milk production (thousands o f tons)

211.1

169.3

126.0

-40%

Egg production (million eggs)

252.1

248.5

264.2

+5%

Sale o f meat, dead weight*** (tons) Number o f cattle Number o f dairy cows Number o f pigs Number o f poultry Agricultural workers engaged in

29.9

17.7

13.0

-57%

249,900

204,500

154,117

-38%

98,800

84,900

64,095

-35%

76,200

56,400

34,807

-54%

2,289,000

2,117,000

2 ,000,000

-13%

44,362

37,692

30,574

-

31%

production

*Data from 1996; 1997 data not available **Data from 1993; 1992 data not available ***Meat sales include beef, pork, lamb, and poultry

Sources: Narodnoe khoziaistvo Kostromskoi oblasti v 1992, various pages; Narodnoe khoziaistvo Kostromskoi oblasti v 1994, various pages; Statisticheskii ezhegodnik: Kostromskaia oblast’ 1997, various pages; Severnaia pravda, 5 February 1998, pp. 4-5; Finansovo-khoziaistvennaia deiatel ’nost ’ s e l’skokhoziaistvennykh predpriiatii Kostromskoi oblasti v 1997 godu, p. 4; and author's calculations.

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

15

During interviews with farm managers during the summer of 1998, it was clear that the way they approach farm operations has changed. Production decisions are based upon calculations of production cost and probable demand. Farm managers are concerned with expansion of market share in the oblast and how to compete with imports from other oblasts. In conclusion, large food enterprises face much more change than continuity in their production sphere. Food Trade Another significant change in the collective sector concerns food trade. Since the end of the Soviet system the food trade system has changed significantly. During the Soviet period, state and collective farms’ production market was regulated by the state through a delivery system that obliged farms to deliver planned quantities of their output to state procurement organizations. The state determined the quantity, mix, and price of food products sold to state procurement organizations, which varied by product. State purchases provided a ready-made market for food producers, avoiding the necessity, and cost, of searching out customers. Initially, following the breakup of the Soviet Union, the Russian procurement system resembled the Soviet system, although Russian procurements were set at somewhat lower levels. In early January 1992, Yeltsin signed a presidential decree that stipulated that all agricultural producers were required to deliver up to 25 percent of their sugar beets, potatoes, vegetables, and fruits, up to 35 percent of their grain, and up to 45 percent of their milk, cattle, and poultry.27 However, sharp price disparities between industrial products and grain resulting from price liberalization and rampant inflation led to farms withholding their production from state purchasers. For example, in mid-August 1992 the state had obtained only about one-half the volume of grain in comparison with the same time a year earlier, and only about one-half of the volume specified in contracts signed with farms. Because the 1992 procurement system was not effective, during early 1993 numerous changes were introduced in domestic food procurement policy that affected all food producers. As a result of those changes, the Russian domestic food procurement system became less regulated. At the end of January 1993 the Russian government announced that obligatory food deliveries to the state had officially ended.28 To replace obligatory deliveries, in February 1993 a

16

Stephen K. Wegren

presidential decree formally established federal and regional food funds. The intent of the Federal Food fund was “to supply food products to the military, health organizations, to support territories that had limited means of their own production, to Moscow and St. Petersburg, regions of the far north, and also for the creation and maintenance of state reserves and reserves for the liquidation of extraordinary situations.”29 The Federal Food fund henceforth constituted the state's central reserve to meet various social needs. The establishment of food funds represented a lessening of state intrusion into the food market. The lessening of state intrusion was evidenced by fewer products procured by the state, lower purchase targets, and reduced federal fund purchases, particularly for grain, which traditionally had been a main state purchase. The state moved from trying to direct all food trade to a system with minimum levels of reserves to meet targeted state needs.30 Interviews with farm chairmen and food processors during the summer of 1998 suggested that with the deregulation of food trade, several important changes have become evident. First, it is clear that more and more food trade is occurring through market channels and private traders, and less is being sold to procurement agents. Although the collection of food trade data is complicated by attempts by farms to conceal trade so as to avoid taxes, the trend is clear. In 1993, 44 percent of grain grown in the oblast was sold to the state; in 1997, 3 percent. In 1993, 80 percent of cattle and poultry (live weight) were sold to the state; in 1997, 18 percent. In 1993, 97 percent of milk was sold to the state; in 1997, 54 percent. During the same time period, the sale of potatoes and vegetables to the state declined by two-thirds.31 Where did the food trade go? Increasingly, food trade gravitated to non-state channels, including collective farm markets and trade networks owned by producers, private food stalls and outlets, retail food outlets of different types, and as payment in kind to farm workers. This trend away from state purchases is explained by simple economics: market prices are often higher, and procurement agents, which receive funding from the state, are chronically short of funds and therefore payments are often delayed. Moreover, in Kostroma Oblast the regional food trade system had stopped functioning by 1996, and in interviews during 1998, not a single farm chairman said his farm contributed to the Federal Food fund. Second, whereas during the Soviet period, domestic producers and processors were protected from foreign competition for the most part, at present both farm managers and food processors have to contend with competition from

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

17

foreign imports, particularly for perishables but also confectioneries and snacks. To meet this challenge, food processors in particular are trying to expand into new product lines or make improvements in the quality or packaging of existing products.32 Third, processors and producers have to contend with competition from other regions within Russia. In Kostroma, processors and producers complained about imports from neighboring Iaroslavl’ or Moscow Oblasts, whose products were of better quality or lower price, or both.33 While some regions in Russia have adopted strict trade protection policies to protect local producers and processors from inter-oblast competition, Kostroma was not one of those oblasts, due in part to its inability to meet the full range of food demand on its own. Thus, Kostroma cereal processors obtain most of their grains from the south of Russia, such as Krasnodar krai, Rostov Oblast, and Volgograd Oblast.34 Finally, there is a recognition by food producers that the production of raw agricultural products is the least advantageous economic activity. During interviews in 1998, farm managers on financially stronger farms in Kostroma were considering how to increase farm profitability through horizontal expansion into food processing.35 Processors were interested in opening their own retail stores, expanding the number of kiosks where their production was sold, or increasing the number of stalls at the local markets. Thus, in a number of important ways, the operation of the food trade system has changed in comparison with the Soviet period. The Financial Sphere The price scissors that occurred as a result of price liberalization in 1992 is a significant change from the Soviet era and has led to a notable deterioration in the financial condition of large farms, as well as the rural sector as a whole. It is estimated that industrial input prices increased at least four times faster than agricultural purchase prices during 1992-1996. During the Soviet period, the use of inputs and input prices were regulated by the state. The use of production, energy, and farm equipment subsidies, as well as nadbavki (price supplements) for weaker farms, permitted farms in poor agricultural regions such as Kostroma to be “profitable.”36 For example, in 1992 agricultural production as a whole in Kostroma Oblast attained a profitability rate of over 53 percent, and 325 of 335 state and collective farms were profitable.37 Five years after reform had been

18

Stephen K. Wegren

introduced, the financial condition of farms had deteriorated, and indeed, the very system of financing the farming sector had changed. As for the financial condition of larger agricultural enterprises, Table 1.3 illustrates the number of profitable and unprofitable farms in Kostroma Oblast. Table 1.3. Profitability of Large Agricultural Enterprises in Kostroma Oblast, 1992-1997 1992

1993

1994

1995

1996

1997

Number of 335 farms large farms______

333

341

337

341

342

Number of profitable

325

237

47

50

19

18

10

96

294

287

322

324

Percentage of 97 farms that were profitable profitable_______

71

14

15

6

5

+34.1

-14.8

6.0

-34.6

-39.4

farms farms_________ Number of unprofitable farms farms_________

Profitability of +53.8 agriculture production production______

-

Source: Finansovo-khoziaistvennaia d e ia te l’n o st’s e l’skokhoziaistvennykhpredpriiatiiKostrom skoi oblasti v 1997 godu, p. 4.

The table demonstrates that since 1992 the number and percentage of unprofitable farms increased substantially throughout the oblast, a trend mirrored throughout Russia. In particular it is interesting to note the dramatic increase in farm unprofitability after the Russian government decided to pursue a tight money policy in order to rein in inflation and stop funding government spending through the printing of money. During 1992 and 1993 farms were able to receive negative interest rates for loans from Rosagrobank (Russian Agricultural Bank), and further benefited from soft credits.

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

19

The data in the table reflect an interesting trend that merits further discussion. As is well known, Soviet-era rural social and farm subsidy policies benefited farms located in remote regions of the oblast. Soviet egalitarian policies aided weak farms, as evidenced by the fact that in 1992, 82 percent of profitable farms were located in raions other than the southwestern raions of Kostromskoi, Nerekhtskii, and Krasnosel’skii, which enjoy proximity to the city of Kostroma and have relative climatic and soil advantages.38 During the years of reform, however, a significant shift occurred. Farms with advantageous locations emerged as relative winners, while farms with remote locations were relative losers. We may measure “winners” and “losers” in four ways. First, by 1998 the number of profitable farms declined throughout the oblast, but it is important to note that the location of profitable farms became more concentrated around the city of Kostroma. In 1997, for example, only 39 percent of profitable farms (seven out of eighteen) were located outside of Kostromskoi, Nerekhtskii, and Krasnosel’skii raions, representing a significant decline in comparison to 1992.39 Second, using raions as the unit of analysis, agricultural production was unprofitable in all raions during 1997, but in Kostromskoi, Nerekhtskii, and Krasnosel’skii, the level of unprofitability was much smaller. Third, while the number of farm personnel engaged in agricultural production declined by nearly one-third during 1992-1997 throughout the oblast, Kostromskoi, Nerekhtskii, and Krasnosel’skii raions lost much smaller percentages of members engaged in agricultural production: 10 percent, 13 percent, and 18 percent, respectively. Remote raions commonly experienced 30-40 percent declines in production personnel. Finally, remote regions experienced larger declines in livestock herds. Declines in agricultural personnel and livestock herds by raion are illustrated in Table 1.4. What accounts for the increased importance of geographical location as a key factor influencing a farm's financial prospects? After all, farms did not change their locations, nor did remote farms suddenly benefit from an upsurge in local demand for their produce, nor were they suddenly beneficiaries of an improved rural infrastructural system. The answer lies in the nature of policy choices for financing large agricultural enterprises.

Stephen K. Wegren

20

Table 1.4. Changes in Number of Farm Production Personnel, Head of Livestock, Kostroma Oblast, 1992-1997 Raion

% Change in Number % Change in % Change in of Agricultural Number of Cattle, Number of Pigs Production Personnel (incl. dairy cows) _________________Production Antropovskii

- 20 %

-39%

-28%

Buyskii________ Buyskii

-43%

-54%

-25%

Vokhomskii

-25%

-44%

-28%

Galichskii______ Galichskii

-21%

-32%

-63%

Kadyyskii Kadyyskii______

-35%

-48%

-93%

Kologrivskii

-28%

-39%

-19%

Kostromskoi

-

10%

-21%

+7%

Krasnosel’skii Krasnoserskii

-18%

-18%

-79%

Makar’yevskii Makar'ye

-23%

-40%

-16%

Manturovskii

-25%

-32%

-82%

Mezhevskii Mezhevskii_____

-46%

-75%

-62%

Neyskii Neyskii________

-27%

- 41%

-70%

Nerekhtskii Nerekhtskii_____

-13%

-32%

-65%

Oktyabr’skii

- 21 %

-50%

-65%

Ostrovskii Ostrovskii______

-29%

-44%

- 88%

Pavinskii Pavinskii_______

-25%

-54%

-

Parfen’yevskii

-29%

-54%

-69%

Ponazyre vskii Ponazyrevskii

-42%

-54%

-85%

Pyshchugskii

-29%

-46%

-43%

Soligalichskii

-19%

-29%

-84%

Sudislavskii

-7%

-16%

-71%

Susaninskii Susaninskii_____

-24%

-35%

-93%

Chukhlomskii

-31%

-48%

-69%

Shar’inskii Shar’inskii______

-27%

-50%

-75%

51%

Sources: Author's calculations from data contained in Itogiproizvodstvenno-fm ansovoi d eia tel’nosti kolkhozov, sovkhozov, kollektivnykh i mezhkhoziaistvennykh s/x predpriiatii Kostromskoi oblasti za 1992 g o d , pp. 13,41.

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

21

Reductions in levels o f state support. From about the mid-1950s through 1990, budgetary resources devoted to agricultural production in the USSR increased in real terms. Since market reforms began, however, the opposite trend has occurred. At the national level, in 1991 in the RSFSR the agricultural sector received 12 percent of total budget expenditures, which steadily decreased to under 2 percent of all budget outlays in 1998. Even budget allocations that were passed were not fully disbursed. As federal support declined, more of the financial burden was shifted to oblast budgets and to farms themselves. Budgetary allocations by branch of the economy in Kostroma Oblast were not available for 1992, but in 1994 the agricultural sector received 20 percent of total oblast expenditures (this sum presumably includes subsidies and capital investments).40 In 1997, the percentage fell to 6 percent of oblast expenditures, of which only one-third was actually distributed. In total, in Kostroma Oblast agriculture received 4 percent of budget allocations that were distributed.41 The reduction of state support at both the federal and oblast level, as well as a price scissors between industrial and agricultural goods, had several consequences. First, farm profitability plummeted and more farms became unprofitable, as we saw before. Second, the number of agricultural enterprises with long-term debt increased, so that in 1996, 328 out of 341 farms in the oblast carried long-term debt. Furthermore, although aggregate farm debt was lower than debt carried by industrial enterprises, farms accounted for more than two-thirds of all enterprises carrying long-term debt. Third, as a result of debt, farms fell behind on wage payments. In 1997, over one-half of industrial enterprises and 24 percent of farms carried wage debt to their workers in Kostroma Oblast. Changes in subsidy policies. During the Soviet period, farms could depend on a range of production subsidies, including subsidies for energy, farm construction projects, elite breeding farms, and other farm inputs. Weak farms, those in remote areas, and those with high production costs, actually received higher subsidies and higher purchase prices, a policy derived from the Brezhnev era that continued even during the early years of reform in the post-Soviet period. In the post-Soviet period, dramatic changes have occurred in subsidy policy. The most drastic change has been the reduction of agricultural subsidies. Most subsidies during the Soviet period went to animal husbandry, a policy that

22

Stephen K. Wegren

was continued during the post-Soviet period. In 1992 in Kostroma Oblast, total production expenses (including wages, material expenses, amortization, and other unspecified expenses) for animal husbandry totaled 3.91 billion rubles and farms received 1.29 billion rubles in subsidies; in other words, about one-third of production expenses were covered by subsidies. In 1997, production expenses for animal husbandry in the oblast totaled 77.3 billion rubles, and farms received 6.6 billion rubles in subsidies, or less than 9 percent of production expenses.42 Remote farms, precisely because of their location, often had higher production and transportation expenses, and therefore were more dependent upon state subsidies. As federal subsidy programs were curtailed, chronically underfunded, shifted to oblast budgets, and eventually changed completely to a “commodity credit” system, farms in remote areas were the big losers.43 They lost in a number of ways: they were least able to retain farm labor, they suffered from high transportation costs and primitive rural infrastructure, they were least able to maintain farm production at past levels, and scarcer subsidy resources were gradually shifted away from the remotest regions. Subsidies were instead increasingly directed to stronger farms, indicated by the fact that subsidies were more concentrated in raions with a greater number of profitable farms and those with better proximity to the city of Kostroma. The shift in resources away from remote regions is evidenced by the fact that in 1992 farms in Kostromskoi, Nerekhtskii, and Krasnosel’skii raions received 41 percent of animal husbandry subsidies. In 1997, these three raions received 59 percent of all animal husbandry subsidies.

The Private Sector During the Soviet period, the “private sector” was not really “private” as understood in the West. Instead, the “private sector” referred mainly to private plots (lichnoe podsobnoe khoziaistvo) operated by the population. Other forms of small-scale individual agriculture included collective fruit and vegetable gardens, as well as dacha plots. In the post-Soviet period, the term “private agricultural sector” may refer to production by the population from their private plots, dacha plots, and collective fruit or vegetable gardens, which are now privately owned. This analysis will focus on private plots as they yield the most production and are the most common form of individual agricultural activity.

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

23

Also in the post-Soviet period, there is a new form of “private” agriculture: private farms, a subject of considerable Western attention. An analysis of private farming trends will follow the discussion of private plots. Private Plots Although private plots were sometimes discriminated against, especially during the latter Stalin period and again during 1958-1963, the Soviet agricultural system depended upon production from private plots to help satisfy food demand.44 Private plots were, therefore, a mainstay of the Soviet agricultural system, which contributed significant percentages of meat, milk, eggs, vegetables, and potatoes, even though the amount of land used by private plot operators was quite small.45 As Soviet agriculture mechanized and modernized, private plots’ share of national production experienced a long-term decline, attributed to increased production in the collective sphere. For example, in the early 1950s private plots provided about one-half of the nation's food, and as late as the 1970s private plots contributed about one-third of total food production in the USSR. However, by the late 1980s this figure had fallen to less than 24 percent. Kostroma Oblast shared in the relative decline of private plots, which reached its nadir in the mid-1980s before stabilizing during the latter 1980s. One of the most notable features attendant with economic reforms has been the increase in food output from private plots. Most of the growth in private plot popularity and output came during 1990-1994. For the nation, private plots contributed about 23 percent of total food production in 1990, rising to about 35 percent in 1992 and 46 percent in 1997 46 The nationwide phenomenon of increased private plot production occurred even in a relatively poor agricultural region such as Kostroma. Available data for the oblast indicate that during 1990-1993 there was a 27 percent increase in the number of families operating a private plot. The number of families operating a private plot declined thereafter, but through 1997 still represented a 7 percent increase over 1990 47 The amount of arable land used by private plot operators in Kostroma Oblast also increased from 15,500 ha in 1990 to 37,200 ha in 1994, before declining somewhat to 36,300 ha by the beginning of 1998. Overall, private plot operators increased their proportion of arable agricultural land in the oblast from 1.9 percent in 1990 to 5.4 percent at the beginning of 1998.48 Not surprisingly, as a result of increased inputs (labor and land),

24

Stephen K. Wegren

production from plots grew. Furthermore, decreased production from the collective sphere meant that the relative share of plots’ output increased. These trends are indicated in the table below. Table 1.5. Development of Private Plots in Kostroma Oblast, 1990-1997 1990

1992

1994

1997

Cattle and poultry, live weight (thousands of tons)

33.3

37.1

31.8

28.2

Milk (thousands of tons)

99.1

115.9

137.6

145.9

Eggs (millions)

48.4

93.2

135.7

110.0

Potatoes (thousands of tons)

134.5

182.8

186.9

284.9

Vegetables (thousands of tons) tons)_____________________

17.4

64.4

54.9

125.1

.4

.9

1.1

1.2

Cattle and poultry, live weight_____________________ weight

39

49

54

57

Milk Milk_______________________

27

35

44

52

Eggs Eggs_______________________ Potatoes__________________ Potatoes

15

27

35

29

58

71

80

86

Vegetables Vegetables__________________

44

81

81

92

1

7

11

21

Gross Output Output______________

Fodder (thousands of tons) % of Oblast Production_____ Production

Fodder

Source: Lichnyepodsobnye khoziaistva naseleniia Kostrom skoi oblasti, pp. 6-9.

The resurgence of private plots during the years of reform is understandable, as food production from these plots in part sheltered families from higher retail food prices and provided a source of additional family income.49 Furthermore, increased plot output represents an important form of adaptation and accounts for much of the improved standards of living in rural localities noted by some Western analysts.50

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

25

Furthermore, increased output from private plots, as well as from collective gardens and dacha plots, has been an important source of rural stability, without which the countryside might become restless. While market reforms have devastated the rural collective sector, the individual sector has been sheltered by the fact that private plots provide a reliable source of food and preclude rural hunger. In short, private plots protect the rural population from macroeconomic policies that have been detrimental to rural interests. Whether private plots can feed Russia is another question, but it is important to emphasize that private plots represent a safety net and, perhaps, even the basis for resurrecting Russian agriculture. Finally, it is important to note that unlike the Soviet period, private plot operators now own their land. These small plots of land may now be bought, sold, traded, bartered, bequeathed, or leased. The turnover of small plots of land in fact defines the Russian land market.51 The important point is that the distribution and privatization of land plots to some 45-50 million Russian families — although these plots are quite small — is important in providing landowners with a stake in the post-Soviet system. Thus, private plots, at least indirectly, are a source of regime stability, which undercut the formation of revolutionary pressures and thus have political importance. Private Farms Individual private farms — sometimes inappropriately called private peasant farms — have been the subject of considerable Western attention because they are based on the family farm model and private ownership of land, factors that are ideologically attractive to a Western audience.52 The legislative foundations underpinning private ownership of land and private farming have been extensively reviewed by numerous analysts in other publications, so the intent here is to focus on trends in private farming. Nationwide, the expansion of private farming experienced its fastest growth during 1992-1994. Since 1995, the number of legally registered private farms has remained stagnant, with slight declines at the national level.53 A review of several macro-trends in Kostroma Oblast is instructive for understanding national patterns. In particular, the discussion below will examine trends in the number of private farms, farm size, and groupings by size, area of land, and output.

26

Stephen K. Wegren

One change since 1992 has been the number of private farms, although we should note that at the national and oblast level the number of private farms in existence in 1998 fell far below original forecasts made when reform began. The number of registered private farms in Kostroma Oblast increased from 258 on 1 January 1992 to its apex of 1,128 by the end of 1994, before declining to 957 at the beginning of 1998. Accompanying the increase in the number of private farms, the number of private farm members in the oblast grew from 572 on 1 January 1992 to 1,690 on 1 January 1998 (not including hired labor). However, these data actually indicate a decline in the average number of members per farm, from 2.2 in 1992 to 1.8 in 1998, thus reflecting the oft-repeated complaint among rural officials in the oblast that it is difficult to find people willing to undertake private farming.54 Another change since 1992-1993, when the rate of farm creation was the highest, has been that the net number of private farms has fallen as the number of farm bankruptcies has increased. For example, in Kostroma Oblast during 1992-1993 the net growth in the number of private farms was positive and bankruptcies were few, trends that mirrored national results as well. Starting in 1994, however, in the oblast, available data show that 197 new farms were registered and 223 went bankrupt; in 1995, 289 farms were registered and 307 went bankrupt; and in 1996, 127 more farms went bankrupt than were created. Why have farm numbers decreased? One reason is that farm consolidation was inevitable and even desirable. We do well to remember that a large percentage of early private farmers were either ex-urbanites, did not have adequate agricultural education, or did not have training to specialize in a particular crop. However, even with the requisite training or experience, it was difficult for many private farmers to be profitable. Why? Surveys have consistently shown that private farm operations are hindered by the high cost of inputs, particularly fertilizer, machinery, and spare parts.55 Surveys of private farmers in Kostroma Oblast confirm national findings. In 1994, for example, 85 percent of private farmers surveyed in Kostroma Oblast considered the high cost of machinery the main factor preventing the growth of farm production, and more than one-half complained about the high cost of seed, fertilizer, and other material-technical inputs.56 Interestingly, another survey in the oblast in 1995 found that over one-half of private farmers cited that their doubts about the long­ term nature of agrarian reform was a factor in preventing farm growth.57

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

27

Combined with the high cost of inputs are marketing difficulties, the end of subsidized credits, and curtailment of production subsidies. Private farmers often have difficulty breaking into established trading relations between large agricultural enterprises and processors, and thus many private farmers sell their production directly to large farms. Others try to operate their own stalls at the local market, but there competition is fierce from other private farmers, larger farms, and imported products. The backdrop of this competition is the fact that consumer demand has declined as retail food prices have increased, particularly for more expensive animal husbandry products. Perhaps the most important reason for the decrease in farm numbers is the fact that state financial support has declined. Private farmers, as new entrepreneurs, required consistent financial support in order to become established and to flourish. Explosive growth in private farm numbers coincided with significant state financial support. During 1992-1993 private farmers received relatively high levels of production subsidies and had access to subsidized credits. But in 1994, when a tight fiscal policy was adopted and the Russian government stopped funding its budget by printing money, private farmers were among the biggest losers. Thereafter, federal production subsidies comprised a smaller and smaller percentage of the retail price of food, and the burden for financial support was shifted to the oblasts. Again, private farmers were the big losers. Only a handful of oblasts throughout Russia have the financial means to support private farming, while most regions were similar to Kostroma and simply were unable to provide financial support. Thus, one private farmer indicated that in 1998 he did not receive “a single kopeck” in subsidies or financial advantages.58 Reasons such as those cited above explain why farm numbers have fallen, and why private farmland has not expanded very much, particularly in a poor agricultural zone such as Kostroma. Even as the number of private farms increased, peaked, and then declined, private farmers in the oblast increased their total land area from 38,309 ha in 1992 to 41,775 ha at the beginning of 1998. However, the increase in total area used by private farmers masks three important subtrends. First, the area of arable land used by private farmers has actually declined, from 26,141 ha in 1992 to 22,970 ha by the end of 1997. Thus, private farmers are acquiring more land, but it is not necessarily usable agricultural land, which is in part a reflection of the quantity and quality of land available on the land market. Second, private farmers in the three most advantageously positioned raions — Kostromskoi,

28

Stephen K. Wegren

Krasnosel’skii, and Nerekhtskii — have increased the amount of land they use. However, the amount of land used for private farming in these advantageously positioned raions remains a small percentage of total private farmland: less than 10 percent of all private farmland at the beginning of 1998. This fact suggests that private farmers “lost” the struggle with other land users — both urban and rural —for land in the best locations. Finally, the amount of private farmland as a percentage of total farmland throughout the oblast remains minute. At the beginning of 1998 private farmers throughout the oblast had about 3 percent of total arable agricultural land and 3.5 percent of all cultivated land.59 These percentages actually declined, although marginally, during the years of reform. But the point is that an important constraint on private farming in Kostroma Oblast was that private farmers did not have much land with which to work. For example, in 1994 at the height of private farm expansion, private farmers had more than 10 percent of total arable agricultural land in only three of Kostroma’s twenty-four raions, and four raions had between 6 and 10 percent. In seventeen raions private farmers had less than 5 percent of total arable agricultural land. After 1994, the area of arable land used by private farmers in Kostroma declined, so that by the beginning of 1998 there had occurred a deterioration in these indicators. The number of private farms by raion and their land area in Kostroma Oblast are illustrated in Table 1.6 below. In terms of farm size, from 1992 through 1997 the mean farm size did not change much in Kostroma Oblast. In 1992 the mean private farm size was 41 ha; about two-thirds of the land was arable on average. Mean farm size decreased steadily through 1996, to 34 ha, of which about 72 percent was arable. During 1997, mean farm size jumped to 44 ha as the first signs of farm consolidation began to appear. Nonetheless, the majority of private farms remain relatively small. In 1992 for example, a survey by the oblast Goskomstat (State Committee on Statistics) office found that 7 percent of private farms were less than 5 ha in size, 31 percent were 6-20 ha, 41 percent were between 21-50 ha, 12 percent were 51-100 ha, and 8 percent were 100 ha or more.60 In 1997, the trend was toward even larger percentages of smaller farms: 10 percent were less than 5 ha, 47 percent were 6-20 ha, 28 percent were 21-50 ha, 10 percent were 51-100 ha, and 5 percent were over 100 ha.61 The trend toward more farms of smaller size has important implications for future farm profitability, farm viability, and farm production.

29

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform Table 1.6. Number of Private Farms by Raion and Their Land Area, Kostroma Oblast, 1992-1998, RaionlClty Raion/City Raion/C\ty

Number of

Land Possessed

Number of

Land Possessed

Raion Agricultural

Private

by Private Farms,

Private Farms,

by Private

Land Possessed by

Farms,

in ha, January

January 1998

Farms, in ha,

Private Farms, in %,

January 1992

1992

January 1998

January 1998

Kostroma city

Q

16

1O

12

OC

3

85

1 Q

Antropovskii

14

607

33

919

1.7

Buiskii Buiskii________

9

1,783

189

7,596

12

Vokhomskii

4

61

19

392

.65

Galichskii

9

554

41

1,818

2.5

Kadyiskii

7

360

31

962

3.3

Kologrivskii

8

449

18

10,515

36

Kostromskoi

14

263

60

1,696

2.4

Krasnosei’skii

14

459

40

640

1.5

Makar’evskii Makafevskii

7

680

15

637

1.9

Manturovskii

14

147

46

630

1.9

Mezhevskii

7

115

33

4,170

18

Neyskii

4

143

7

78

.30

Nerekhtskii

30

1,178

65

1,734

2.4

Oktiabr'skii Qktiabr'skii

1

9

4

164

.50

Ostrovskii

38

1,381

182

4,171

8.0

Pavinskii

7

515

29

793

2.7

Parfen’evskii Parfen'evskii

7

503

18

595

2.0

Ponazyrevskii

3

226

9

1,356

8.0

Pyshchugskii

17

695

8

388

2.0

1.9

Soligalichskii

6

105

9

207

.55

Sudislavskii

13

649

15

726

1.6

Susaninskii

10

272

16

277

.70

10

247

.60

Chukhlomskii

5

124

Shar’inskii

7

165

48

979

1.5

258

11,459

957

41,775

4.0

Total Total_________

30

Stephen K. Wegren

Note to Table 1.6: Percentages have been rounded. Sources: Unpublished data from Goskomstat of Kostroma Oblast; Kostroma Committee on Land Resources; and author's calculations.

A final macro-trend is private farm output. Similar to private farm output at the national level, private farmers have not become significant food producers and continue to contribute a small percentage of the oblast's food output. In 1992, for example, private farmers produced 1.3 percent of the oblast’s food; in 1997, despite large declines in output by the collective sector during the previous six years, private farms produced 1.2 percent of the oblast’s food.62 The 1997 percentage does not differ much from national production totals. Production trends by food product in Kostroma Oblast are illustrated in Table 1.7 below. Table 1.7. Private Farms’ Food Production and Livestock Holdings in Kostroma Oblast, 1992-1997 ________________________ 1992______________ 1994_______________ 1997_______ Food Production % of Oblast Food % of Oblast Food % of Oblast Food _____________________ Production_________ Production_________ Production Grains/cereals 2.1 1.6 1.5 Potatoes_________________ .02_________________16________________ 15_________ Vegetables_______________ A_________________1)5________________ A_________ Fodder__________________ L5________________ L6________________ L5________ Milk____________________ .S_________________2 2 ________________ L8________ Eggs____________________ .02________________ .05________________ A_________ Wool___________________ 4/7________________ L4________________ .7_________ Livestock Holdings Head of cattle

% of oblast Livestock Holdings

% of oblast Livestock Holdings

% of oblast Livestock Holdings

3.6

2.2

2.2

Head of pigs______________ .5_________________L4________________ 316________ Source: K r e s t’ianskie khoziaistva oblasti (1998), p. 4.

The fact that private farms remain insignificant food producers is hardly a surprise. Considering the loss of subsidized credits, low levels of production subsidies, few protections from imports, and high input prices, private farmers

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

31

have reduced production capacity. Previously we noted that the amount of arable and cultivated land used by private farmers decreased from 1992 through 1997. In addition, during these same years the number of cattle owned by private farmers fell by almost 60 percent, the number of dairy cows decreased 45 percent, and the number of pigs declined by 28 percent.63 An important change to note is what has happened to farm production. Early in reform, most private farm production was not sold, and this was particularly true for non-perishables. In 1992 only 9 percent of all grains, 71 percent of the milk that was produced and 88 percent of the livestock (live weight) raised by private farmers were sold.64 Increased use of market channels and farmers’ own stores, stalls, and outlets — as well as “hiding” sales to avoid taxes —meant that food trade data became less comprehensive, less reliable, and more difficult to obtain. Nonetheless, available data for 1994 show that farmers sold 35 percent of grains and cereals, 52 percent of milk, and 70 percent of livestock.65 These data most likely significantly understate actual food trade trends, but data are simply lacking to substantiate the assumption. This survey of changes and trends in private farming is important because it suggests that attempts to move Russian agriculture toward a system in which private entrepreneurs dominate have not been fully successful. The period of “radical” reform was not successful in creating an economically or politically significant private farming sector. Instead, the net farm numbers peaked and then declined, arable land use has declined, and land cultivated by private farmers remains a very small percentage of all agricultural land; the vast majority of private farms remain very small in size, which affects future production and viability, and that production capacity has been curtailed. As it becomes increasingly evident that the period of radical reform has ended in Russia, these trends suggest that private farming will remain marginal and that the collective sector will continue to be the dominant sector with primary responsibility for feeding the nation, with private plots an important subsidiary source of food.

The Land Market The Russian land market represents one of the most significant changes from the Soviet period. In the post-Soviet period, Russian agriculture is based upon

32

Stephen K. Wegren

private ownership of land: large farms are “owned” by members who hold shares entitling them to farmland; private plot and other small agricultural landholders now own their land plots; and private farms are modeled on the Western family farm and are also privately owned. In all these cases, owners have full and legal title to the land in the form of land deeds. The evolution of legislation and legal rights governing land ownership and transactions have been extensively reviewed in other publications by various authors and need not be reviewed here.66 However, it is important to repeat that the 1993 Russian Constitution guarantees not only private land ownership but a series of fundamental land rights, including the right to buy and sell land. Despite tremendous change in land relations, the Russian land market has been a subject of gross misunderstanding and controversy among Western analysts. Some argue that there is no land market, and others deny even that private ownership exists. These claims reflect a basic misunderstanding of Russian conditions and suggest once again that Western standards are being applied instead of criteria that are more relevant to Russia. What such critics have in mind is that large collective farms have not been broken up and in some respects remain immune to land market pressures. More generally, since 1990 the executive and legislative branches in Russia have been engaged in a bitter fight over the nature of the land market. The executive branch favors an unlimited land market in which a person can buy/sell land freely and can change the uses of land. The legislative branch, most notably Communists and Agrarians in the State Duma, are opposed to the sale of agricultural land by large farms and insist that agricultural land should only be used for agricultural purposes. Conservatives argue that rural dwellers only recently obtained land, and an unregulated market would allow rich urbanites and speculators to buy up land, depriving peasants of their right to land. The net effect of the conservative's “market” would be to retain the social and production structures inherited from the Soviet era. To date, the political struggle in Moscow over the land market has resulted in a stalemate, and no unregulated sale of agricultural land is permitted by national law. Until such legislation is passed — and it appears that date is not in the foreseeable future — Yeltsin's decrees, which permit land sales, will remain in force. The fact of the matter is that a land market does exist, and data have been published to demonstrate both the extent and nature of this market for Russia as a whole.67 When critics deny the existence of a land market, what they really

33

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

mean is that the present Russian land market carries little transformative power, as land transactions involve very small land plots, with the most common uses being for family garden plots and relaxation at the family country cabin. Moreover, due to limited incomes, land purchases actually comprise a very small portion of the overall land market, as nationwide about 99 percent of land transactions involve land leasing.68 The reasons for more leasing than purchasing are twofold: on the demand side, potential buyers have limited purchasing power; on the supply side, private sellers calculate that small land plots are better to retain for security (for food and a hedge against inflation) than to sell, because in most cases the amount of money from the sale is minuscule. Unpublished data for Kostroma in Table 1.8 illustrate the nature of the land market at the oblast level and confirm previously published data for Russia. Table 1.8. Land Transactions in Kostroma Oblast, 1996-1997 Number of transactions 1996

Area of land involved 1996 (ha)

Number of transactions 1997

Area of land involved 1997 (ha)

1

0.1

21

1.6

Operation of private plot

40

3.5

83

7.1

Operation of fruit or vegetable garden

246

12.5

287

14.6

Intended Use of Purchased Land Individual housing construction

Sold to organization, enterprise Total

0

0

10

3.0

287

16.1

401

26.3

Source: Unpublished data from Kostroma Committee on Land Resources.

The table reflects national trends in that the average size of a land plot involved in a transaction remains quite small. In Kostroma, for example, during 1996 the mean size was 0.06 ha, and in 1997 0.07 ha, figures that are in line with national trends. Although land reform has been hindered by political deadlock at the federal level, the land market question has begun to be resolved at the regional level. By early 1998, almost sixty of Russia's regions (out of eighty-nine oblasts, krais,

34

Stephen K. Wegren

and republics) had adopted laws that permit the ownership of land. More important, in the fall of 1997, Saratov Oblast — a rich agricultural region in southern Russia —adopted the first law that allowed the “free” sale of land, thus initiating a broader movement toward a land market from below.69 The Saratov law was quickly emulated by several other regions, and there is a real possibility that local legislation will quickly supersede federal legislation. More difficult to surmount, however, will be the economic obstacles that confront the land market. In the economic realm, the macroeconomic environment will continue to play an important role. As long as personal incomes remain low (less than $150 a month on average), demand for land will remain suppressed. Higher standards of living are necessary to break out of the present supply-demand circle in which only small plots are affordable. However, it is estimated that a minimum of ten to fifteen years of economic growth will be needed before Russian living standards regain their 1990 level.

Conclusion This paper has argued that significant and important changes have taken place since 1992 in Russian agriculture. Distance from Soviet-era policies — and not conformity with Western models — is the best way to understand the evolution of Russian agrarian reform. Analysts who argue that rural change has been minimal have in mind that Russia has not become like the West and remains unique. This paper has postulated as its main question, “what type of change has occurred?” I have attempted to make this an empirical question by using Kostroma Oblast as a case study to provide a cross section of rural change. Re­ viewing our findings briefly, this paper has established the following changes: 1) In the demographic sphere, excluding the war years, the rural population has increased. Furthermore, since the early 1990s the countryside has been a net recipient of migrants for the first time since the 1920s.70 2) In the collective farming sector, change has been multifaceted. Farms have changed their juridical status, meaning they are now privately owned and are no longer state property. This is an important development because it means that farm members own land and property shares, can dispose of their shares as they please, and can resign from a farm at will. These are significant individual rights, which form a basis for rural democracy. Other changes include the

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

35

demonetarization of rural wages, lessened job security, and a growing urbanrural income gap. In the production sphere, a price scissors has reduced the application of mineral fertilizers, farm mechanization, amount of cultivated land, animal herds, and rural labor. 3) In the food trade sphere, the state has withdrawn much of its previous regulation, and now most food trade is directed through private market-oriented channels. 4) The financial environment facing larger farms has changed for the worse. Production subsidies, regulated input prices, and other forms of state financing have been drastically reduced. The result has been an increase in the number of unprofitable farms and the growing unprofitability of all farm production. Sources of farm financing have also shifted from the federal level to oblast and farm budgets. In Kostroma Oblast, at least, these changes in the financial arena have hurt farms in remote regions and benefited those with a more advantageous location, a significant reversal of Soviet-era egalitarianism. 5) In the private sector, private plots have experienced a revival and now supply more of the nation's food than at any time since the 1950s. In Kostroma Oblast, the number of families operating a plot, the number of livestock kept by plot operators, and the amount of land they used all had increased during the 1990s. Regarding private farms, successful “saturation” of privatized farms in the countryside remains elusive for a variety of reasons, including financial, demographic, and psychological. As a result of these obstacles, private farming expanded very quickly during 1992-1993, peaked in 1994, and declined thereafter.71 6) A land market has emerged based upon the principles of private land ownership. The land market is becoming more active with every passing year, although at this point it is necessary to note that the land market is more a leasing market than a purchasing market, and the mean size of plots involved in land transactions is very small. To date, the land market carries few transformative powers. Nonetheless, it is an important development that private citizens now have the legal right to own, sell, barter, trade, lease, or bequeath their land plots. Thus, there is much more change than continuity in Russian agriculture. The implications of my analysis are significant. If the analysis herein is accurate, then it means, first of all, that the post-Soviet state has been much more efficacious in moving away from communist agriculture than is commonly

36

Stephen K. Wegren

recognized. That is, the “weak state” not only is analytically unsound but does not stand up to empirical evidence, at least as it pertains to the agricultural sector. Second, it means that rural oppositionists and conservatives have been much less successful in blocking reform than advocates of the agricultural lobby would have us believe. Finally, it means that rural actors have and continue to adapt to new incentive structures and the larger economic environment.

Notes 1. Associate Professor, Department of Political Science, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, TX 75275. This article builds upon previous fieldwork by the author conducted in Kostroma Oblast since 1990, updated by research during the summer of 1998. Research was supported by a University Research Council grant from Southern Methodist University. The author alone is responsible for the views contained herein. 2. Stephen K. Wegren, “Agricultural Reform in the Nonchemozem Zone: The Case of Kostroma Oblast,” in Post-Soviet Geography, Vol. 33, No. 10 (December 1992), pp. 645-685. 3. My original research trip to Kostroma Oblast was in March-April 1990, at which time I was at Duke University on a postdoctoral fellowship at Jerry Hough’s East-West Center. During my two-year stay at Duke and the Center, Durham North Carolina and the city of Kostroma became sister cities, and I was the first scholar to participate in the exchange. 4. On urban-rural attitudes and reform orientations, see Jerry F. Hough, Evelyn Davidheiser, and Susan Goodrich Lehmann, The 1996 Russian Presidential Election (Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution, 1997). 5. Ralph S. Clem and Peter R. Craumer, “The Geography of the Russian 1995 Parliamentary Election: Continuity, Change, and Correlates,” in Post-Soviet Geography, Vol. 36, No. 10 (December 1995), pp. 587-616; Ralph S. Clem and Peter R. Craumer, “Roadmap to Victory: Boris Yeltsin and the Russian Presidential Elections of 1996,” in Post-Soviet Geography, Vol. 37, No. 6 (June 1996), pp. 335— 354; and Ralph S. Clem and Peter R. Craumer, “Urban-Rural Voting Differences in Russian Elections, 1995-1996: A Rayon Level Analysis,” in Post-Soviet Geography and Economics, Vol. 38, No. 7 (September 1997), pp. 379-395.

37

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

6. This paper uses the definition of non-black-earth regions used by Goskomstat Rossii, which includes twenty-nine oblasts and republics (excluding the cities of St. Petersburg and Moscow). For a list of non-black-earth regions, see Nechernozemnaia zona: Rossiiskoi Federatsii

v tsifrakh

1992

(Moscow:

Goskomstat, 1992), p. 9. 7. Karen Brooks and Zvi Lerman, Land Reform and Farm Restructuring in Russia, World Bank Discussion Paper no. 233 (Washington, DC: The World Bank, 1994); Karen Brooks et al., Agricultural Reform in Russia: A View from the Farm Level, World Bank Discussion Papers no. 327 (Washington, DC: The World Bank, 1996); la. V. Uzun, ed., SotsiaVno-ekonomicheskie posledstviia privatizatsii zemli i reorganizatsii seVskokhoziaistvennykh predpriiatii (1994-1996 gg.) (Moscow: Entsiklopediia rossiiskii dereven’, 1997); David O'Brien et al., Services and Quality o f Life in Rural Village in the Former Soviet Union: Data from 1991 and 1993 Surveys (Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1998); International Finance Corporation, Monitoring Russian Reorganized Farms (unpublished report, 1998); Grigory Ioffe and Tatyana Nefedova, Continuity and Change in Rural Russia: A Geographical Perspective (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1997); Stephen K. Wegren, Agriculture and the State in Soviet and Post-Soviet Russia (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1998). 8. Johan Swinnen et al., eds., Agricultural Privatisation, Land Reform and Farm Restructuring in Central and Eastern Europe (Aldershot, England: Ashgate, 1997); Stephen K. Wegren, ed., Land Reform in the Former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe (New York and London: Routledge, 1998). 9. Wegren, “Agricultural Reform in the Nonchemozem Zone,” p. 646. 10. Of course, Russia is a large country and regional differences exist. However, Kostroma’s general conformity with reform trends nationwide may be seen along two reform dimensions. First, nationwide farm reorganization data reveal that by January 1994, 34 percent of state and collective farms that reorganized retained their previous status, that is, remained collective farms. According to unpublished statistical data for Kostroma Oblast, as of 1 January 1994, only 9 percent of kolkhozy and 16 percent of sovkhozy had retained their previous status, much lower than national averages. On the other hand, the most popular form of labor organization for reorganized farms was a joint stock farm of the closed type, chosen by nearly 76 percent of the farms, and on this aspect Kostroma duplicated national trends. The second dimension is the number of private farms per 1,000

38

Stephen K. Wegren

persons. Kostroma is largely indicative of national trends, with the exception of the Volga and Northern Caucasus regions. On 1 January 1999, economic regions in European Russia had the following number of private farms per 1000 persons: Northern Region (.65); Northwest (1.39); Central (.96); Kostroma, which is in the Central Economic Region (1.05); Volga Vyatka (1.03); Central Black Earth (1.39); Volga (2.03); Northern Caucasus (4.81); and Ural (.43). 11. Brooks et al., Agricultural Reform in Russia: A View from the Farm Level:; Roy Prosterman, Leonard J. Rolfes Jr., and Robert G. Mitchell, “Russian Agrarian Reform: A Status Report from the Field,” in Communist Economies and Economic Transformation, Vol. 7, No. 2 (June 1995), pp. 175-193; Roy Prosterman, Robert G. Mitchell, and Bradley J. Rorem, “Prospects for Peasant Farming in Russia,” in RDI Reports on Foreign Aid and Development, No. 92 (Seattle: RDI, 1997); Maria Amleina, “False Transformations: From Stalin's Peasants to Yeltsin's Collective Farmers,” paper presented at Rural Workshop II, Kennan Institute, Woodrow Wilson Center, Washington, DC, 4-6 May 1999. 12. Stephen K. Wegren, “Rural Politics and Agrarian Reform in Russia,” in Problems o f Post-Communism, Vol. 43, No. 1 (January-February 1996), pp. 23-34. 13. Wegren, Agriculture and the State in Soviet and Post-Soviet Russia. 14. See Samuel L. Popkin, The Rational Peasant: The Political Economy o f Rural Society in Vietnam (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979). 15. During the 1980s, the total population, and especially the urban population, increased slowly, and on the eve of reform in 1991 the total population had increased just over 1 percent from its 1979 level. Data from Narodnoe khoziaistvo Kostromskoi oblasti v deviatoi piatiletke (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1976), p. 7; Narodnoe khoziaistvo Kostromskoi oblasti v 1990 (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1991), p. 21; and Statisticheskii ezhegodnik: Kostromskaia oblast ’ 1997 (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1998), p. 18. 16. In 1992, the birth rate per 1,000 was 9.2 and the death rate 14.3. During 1997 the birth rate per 1,000 fell to 7.8 while the death rate increased to 16.3. See Narodnoe khoziaistvo Kostromskoi oblasti v 1992 (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1993), p. 38; and Sotsial'no-ekonomicheskoe polozhenie Kostromskoi oblasti: Ianvar’—Dekabr’ 1997 (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1998), p. 181. 17. The number is for the total population. Natural increase is defined as the difference between births and deaths. The negative natural increase was much higher for the rural population. In Kostroma Oblast, available data show that the gap

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

39

between the number of births and number of deaths per 1000 persons in rural localities increased from -2.3 in 1990 to -6.8 in 1992, and continued to increase through 1996 to -12.0 in 1996 and -11.8 in 1997, meaning that the rural population was losing more people through deaths than were being bom. Statisticheskii ezhegodnik: Kostromskaia oblast ’ 7997, p. 26. 18. Net migration into the oblast during 1992-1997 was 25,648 (138,218 arrivals and 112,570 departures). During the 1990s the movement of people declined significantly and continuously, so that in 1997 the number of arrivals was 45 percent (the 1989 level), and the number of departures was 42 percent (its 1989 level). Data from Migratsiia naseleniia Kostromskoi oblasti (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, annual issues during 1993-1998). 19. A similar trend in the national rural population was also evident during 1991-1994, before decreasing somewhat thereafter. 20. Three subtrends should be noted: (a) the remotest regions either continued to lose rural population or experienced the lowest inflows; (b) the largest wave of rural inflows occurred during 1988-1992; and (c) the overall magnitude of migration has declined significantly as fewer and fewer people have changed locations since reform began, apparently in response to the expense of moving, difficulty finding affordable housing, and a tighter job market. 21. Kostroma Oblast is dominated by one large city, Kostroma. The city of Kostroma is located in the southwest comer of the oblast where climate and land quality are relatively better than in other parts of the oblast. Farms in raions adjacent to the city of Kostroma are advantaged due to proximity, and with it the inherent demand for food, better roads, access to labor, and access to technical assistance. 22. What farm members decide to do with their land shares and the nature of the land market are influenced by psychological and demographic factors, as well as the larger economic environment, and less so by obstructionism or diktat of farm managers. 23. Finansovo-khoziaistvennaia deiatel’nost’ sel’skokhoziaistvennykh predpriiatii Kostromskoi oblasti v 1997 godu (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1998), p. 4. 24. Narodnoe khoziaistvo Kostromskoi oblasti v 1992 (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1993), pp. 231, 243; Statisticheskii ezhegodnik: Kostromskaia oblast ’ 1997, p. 80. 25. V. Markin, “Proizvodstvo zema v Povolzh’e: problemy i rezervy,” in APK: ekonomika, upravlenie, No. 8 (August 1998), pp. 24—29.

40

Stephen K. Wegren

26. International Finance Corporation, Monitoring Russian Reorganized Farms, pp. 30-31. 27. The percentage of output for obligatory deliveries for individual regions was based on the average annual production attained during 1986-1990. Failure to conclude or fulfill contracts signed with procurement organizations resulted in a fine, to be paid to procurement organizations, equal to the local market value of the undelivered production. Excluded from the list were private plot farmers, collective gardens and orchards, suburban cooperatives, non-agricultural enterprises, and subsidiary agricultural operations of enterprises and organizations. 28. Izvestiia (28 January 1993), p. 2. 29. Rossiiskaia gazeta (25 December 1992), p. 1. 30. The Federal Food fund defined purchase targets that were below state procurements during the Soviet era. To meet food fund targets, deliveries to both federal and regional funds were characterized as not “obligatory,” but contractual, and purchases were to be at prevailing market prices. Both collective agricultural enterprises and private farmers were to sign contracts with state procurement organizations for delivery of food to these food funds. The government issued credits in order to purchase foodstuffs for the Federal Food fund. In the case of grain, Roskhleboprodukt was responsible for delivering the required volume of grain to the federal fund and received state credits to purchase grain. Farms were paid for their grain in state credits. As an added inducement, food producers who sold their output to the state were eligible to receive various production subsidies as well as compensation for equipment, fuel, and fertilizers used in the production of produce sold to the Federal Food fund. 31. Statisticheskii ezhegodnik: Kostromskaia oblast’ 1997, p. 250. 32. Interview, V. Mikhalov, Kosmol dairy processing plant, 21 July 1998. 33. Interview, V. Sitnikov, Vysokovskii greenhouse, 5 August 1998. 34. Interview, A. Belenskii, Kostromskii kombinat khleboproduktov, 30 July 1998. 35. For example, see interview, N. Egorov, kolkhoz 50 let SSSR, 31 July 1998, who wanted to invest in on-farm milk processing. 36. Although Soviet-era farm “profitability” has been the topic of many discussions, it bears repeating here that Soviet calculations were simply the difference between “income,” which included subsidies and even loans and credits, and total expenses, which included production costs.

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

41

37. Itogiproizvodstvenno-finansovoi deiateVnosti kolkhozov, sovkhozov, kollektivnykh i mezhkhoziaistvennykh s/kh predpriiatii Kostromskoi oblasti za 1992 god (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1993), p. 4. 38. Wegren, “Agricultural Reform in the Nonchemozem Zone,” pp. 648, 653. 39. Finansovo-khoziaistvennaia deiateVnosV seVskokhoziaistvennykhpredprii­ atii Kostromskoi oblasti v 1997 godu, p. 13. 40. Ekonomika Kostromskoi oblasti v Ianvare-Dekabre 1994 goda (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1995), p. 39. 41. SotsiaVno-ekonomicheskoe polozhenie Kostromskoi oblasti: IanvarDekabr’ 1997, pp. 128-129. 42. Itogi proizvodstvenno-finansovoi deiateVnosti kolkhozov, sovkhozov, pp. 17, 61; Finansovo-khoziaistvennaia deiatel’nost’ sel'skokhoziaistvennykh predpriiatii Kostromskoi oblasti v 1997 godu, pp. 37, 43. 43. Direct production subsidies have been drastically reduced, as were subsidies for energy, fertilizers, and other inputs. Instead, a “commodity credit” system has been put in place. This system provides access to needed inputs at highly subsidized interest rates prior to spring planting. A farm receives a certain level of “credit,” essentially an accounting entry with local suppliers. Farms use commodity credits to obtain needed inputs up to the value of their credit limits. The government covers the cost of credit (providing inputs) until after the harvest, when the credit is repaid, plus interest. The most interesting aspect of this system is that it is largely funded by repayments from the previous year. But when farms are unprofitable, it is difficult to repay these credits, and incentives to do so have been undermined by the continued practice of writing off agricultural debt on credits every winter. 44. Karl-Eugen Wadekin, The Private Sector in Soviet Agriculture (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973). 45. A. F. Kalinkin, Lichnoe podsobnoe khoziaistvo: kollektivnoe sadovodstvo i ogorodnichestvo (Moscow: Kolos, 1981); Stephen K. Wegren, “Private Agriculture in the Soviet Union Under Gorbachev,” in Soviet Union/Union Sovietique, Vol. 16, No. 2-3 (1989), pp. 105-144. 46. M. Lezina and M. Goncharova, “Novaia struktura sel’skokhoziaistvennogo proizvodstva,” in APK: Ekonomika, upravlenie, No. 11 (November 1998), p. 11. Figures are measured in retail price value. Private plots produced 92 percent of the nation’s potatoes, 78 percent of its vegetables, 56 percent of its meat (live weight), 49 percent of its milk, and 31 percent of its eggs.

42

Stephen K. Wegren

47. From 1990 through 1993 the number of families operating a private plot increased from 138,321 to 175,538. At the beginning of 1998, 147,369 families were operating a private plot. Lichnye podsobnye khoziaistva naseleniia Kostromskoi oblasti (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1998), p. 4. 48. Private plot operators increased their amount of cultivated agricultural land as a percentage of all cultivated land in the oblast from 3 percent in 1992 to 7 percent at the beginning of 1998. Ibid., p. 4. 49. Private plots have different sizes and purposes. Production from the smallest private plots (up to about one-half ha) is used primarily for family or personal needs; two-thirds of production from average-size plots (about 1-3 ha) is used for personal needs and one-third is sold; and two-thirds of production from larger private plots (more than three ha) is sold and one-third consumed. 50. David O’Brien, Valeri V. Patsiorkovski, and Larry D. Dershem, “Rural Responses to Land Reform in Russia: An Analysis of Household Land Use in Belgorod, Rostov, and Tver’ Oblasts from 1991 to 1996,” in Wegren, ed., Land Reform in the Former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, pp. 35-61. 51. Stephen K. Wegren, “Land Reform and the Land Market in Russia: Operation, Constraints, and Prospects,” in Europe-Asia Studies, Vol. 49, No. 6 (1997), pp. 959-987; Stephen K. Wegren and Vladimir R. Belen’kiy, “The Political Economy of the Russian Land Market,” in Problems o f Post-Communism, Vol. 45, No. 4 (July-August 1998), pp. 56-66. 52. Overlooked by many Western analysts is the fact that about one-half of private farm land is leased, not owned. Anecdotal and survey evidence suggests that private farmers themselves, while in favor of private ownership, are not averse to leasing land as the basis for their farming operations. 53. The registration of a private farm only gives it legal status, it does not mean that the farm is operational. In many instances private farms exist only on paper. See Gavin Kitching, “The Development of Agrarian Capitalism in Russia 1991-97: Some Observations from Fieldwork,” in Journal o f Peasant Studies, Vol. 25, No. 3 (April 1998), pp. 1-30. 54. In mid-1993 in Kostroma Oblast there were only about 1.4 private farms per 1000 persons; at the beginning of 1998 there were 1.2 private farms per 1000 persons. 55. Brooks et al., Agricultural Reform in Russia: A View from the Farm Level, pp. 69-71.

Change in Russian Agrarian Reform

43

56. Krest’ianskie khoziaistva oblasti na 1 Ianvaria 1994 goda (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1994), p. 4. 57. Krest’ianskie khoziaistva oblasti na 1 Ianvaria 1995 goda (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1995), p. 4. 58. Severnaia Pravda (30 June 1998), p. 3. 59. There are differences in land uses. There is the total land area possessed by private farms, which has increased since 1992. There is also the subcategory of arable land, which has decreased. Most important, there is a third category of cultivated land. The amount of land cultivated by private farmers grew rapidly and significantly from 1991 through 1993, but since 1994 it has declined. The amount of land cultivated by private farmers was less in 1997 than in 1992. However, the ratio of cultivated land to arable land has remained constant at about 60 percent. Krest'ianskie khoziaistva oblasti (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskkomstat, 1998), p. 5. 60. Krest’ianskie khoziaistva oblasti na 1 Iiulia 1992 goda (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1992), p. 7. 61. Krest’ianskie khoziaistva oblasti, p. 5. 62. Ibid., pp. 51-53. In 1997, private farmers contributed about 2-2.5 percent of the nation's food. 63. Although the number of livestock declined, there was an increase in some animal husbandry production (milk, live weight of cattle, and poultry). However, the overall levels of production as a percentage of total output remain quite low as Table 1.7 shows. 64. Razvitie krest ’ianskikh khoziaistv oblasti na 1 Ianvaria 1993 goda (Kostroma: Kostroma Goskomstat, 1993), pp. 18, 20. Official statistical sources do not indicate where or to whom the sales occurred. 65. Krest’ianskie khoziaistva oblasti na 1 Ianvaria 1995 goda, p. 13. 66. Stephen K. Wegren, “The Development of Market Relations in Agricultural Land: The Case of Kostroma Oblast,” in Post-Soviet Geography, Vol. 36, No. 8 (October 1995); Zvi Lerman and Karen Brooks, “Russia's Legal Framework for Land Reform and Farm Restructuring,” in Problems o f Post-Communism, Vol. 43, No. 6 (November-December 1996); Wegren, “Land Reform and the Land Market in Russia: Operation, Constraints, and Prospects”; and Stephen K. Wegren, “The Conduct and Impact of Land Reform in Russia,” in Land Reform in the Former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe, ed. Wegren.

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Stephen K. Wegren

67. Wegren and Belen’kiy, “The Political Economy of the Russian Land Market,” pp. 56-66. 68. Ibid., pp. 59-60. 69. Even in the Saratov Oblast, the land market remained regulated in certain ways and was not entirely free. See ibid., p. 64. 70. Naselenie Rossii za 100 let: statisticheskii sbornik (Moscow: Goskomstat Rossii, 1998), p. 32. 71. Decline is measured in terms of falling numbers of farms, increased bankruptcies, reduced usage of arable land, and failure to increase food output significantly.

2 / Continuity in Rural Russia Gregory Ioffe

The issue of continuity in mral Russia is a complex one for various reasons. Rural Russia has developed several distinctive forms of production that are resilient and resistant to change. Measuring the vibrancy of these agricultural forms requires careful observation of urban-mral interactions and is intimately connected with the process of defining “urban” and “rural” areas. Gauging the success of reforms is determined in part by the ways in which traditional forms of agriculture are treated, and to what extent the diffusion of Westem-style family farming is taken as the sole measure of success. The false expectations of many Western analysts have colored the issue of continuity and change in mral Russia, and their expectations must be addressed explicitly in order to provide a comprehensive assessment of reform in the countryside. These issues are discussed in more detail below.

Distinctive Forms of Agricultural Production Compared with other forms of economic activity in Russia, agriculture has developed quite distinctive forms of shielding itself from macroeconomic upheavals. This could happen only owing to some persistent and tenacious features of Russian farming that had been there for decades, if not centuries. Some of these features appear to be lifesaving at times of crisis. As Table 2.1 shows, by 1997 46 percent of Russia’s agricultural output was produced by technologically inferior personal auxiliary farming (PAF), also called subsidiary or household farming, that is, in mral residences’ backyards. (In 1989, only 24 percent were, which at that time was considered a very high share.) In fact, inkind statistics revealed by Table 2.1 with regard to potatoes, vegetables, meat, and milk are even more impressive than the percentage of monetary value, especially when it comes to less urbanized oblasts. Aside from subsidiary farms, socialized (former collective and state farms and their converts, all of which are labeled “Public Sector” in Table 2.1) and private family farms produce food in

46

Gregory Ioffe

Russia, with private farms contributing merely 2 percent of output. Subsidiary farms should not be confused with the Westem-style private family farms envisioned by reformers. First, subsidiary farms are nothing new. Second, they are not required to be registered as independent businesses so their operators do not qualify for bank loans. Third, for the most part they use tiny parcels. Fourth, their technological level is antediluvian, and in many cases they cannot exist without large collective farms, with which they are in symbiotic relationships. Coupled with the fact that no less than 60 percent of all Russian urbanites take advantage of their own plots in the countryside (or those of their relatives), the incredible growth of subsidiary farming is a mixed blessing for Russians. On the one hand, it can hardly qualify as a principal mode of farming operations in an advanced country. On the other hand, though, it is a manifestation of a huge increase in popular access to land, which is an internationally proven antidote to acute food shortages. It would be safe to say that if Russia, or rather some segments of its population, does not face hunger in the months and years to come, it will be as a result of this expanded private access to land. Ironically, it has made the broad masses better protected than they were at a time when the overall statistics of food production looked more favorable. According to Russia’s Ministry of Agriculture, about 100 million Russians (that is, virtually the major part of the adult population) stored potatoes and vegetables for their personal use for the winter of 1998-99, and 50 million stored meat.11, therefore, contend that the role that subsidiary farming retains in Russia is one of the most important reasons why Russia’s agricultural production has not shrunk to the extent that the industrial output has since 1991. The high degree of preparedness of much of the population and their reliance on subsidiary farming is illustrated in the case of a resident of the city of Voronezh, a city with a population of almost 1 million. According to an article bearing the title “Provinces Switch to Natural Economy” in the politically reliable Russian newspaper Izvestia, Natalia Lugarkina, an associate of a local Gazstroi company responsible for local pipelines and deliveries of natural gas to residential and commercial customers, together with her spouse stored in a single season 60 3-liter jars of tomatoes, 50 jars of cucumbers, four 60-kilo bags of potatoes, one bag of flour, one bag of sugar, several cans of stewed meat, one barrel of sauerkraut, and 40 jars of stewed fruit. Lugarkina cited the use of the vegetable garden of her rural relatives in this endeavor.2

Continuity in Rural Russia

47

Table 2.1. Structure of Agricultural Production by Type of Farm in Selected Oblasts of the Russian Federation

Moscow

Leningrad

Vladimir

Kaluga

Smolensk

Riazan

Tver

laroslavl

Russia Total

1997 % S h a r e in O u tp u t

73

50

44

41

40

49

49

49

52

26

49

55

58

58

50

48

49

46

1

1

1

1

2

I

3

2

2

Potatoes

81

78

88

86

97

93

89

81

91

V egetab les

27

33

90

82

95

96

95

92

76

M eat

36

35

46

62

52

64

39

43

55

M ilk

15

27

37

40

54

37

45

40

47

M eat

2.9

2.7

0.5

0.9

2.4

0.8

4.4

3.1

1.8

M ilk

1.7

1.4

1.2

1.3

1.8

0.9

2.0

1.4

1.6

Public S ector Subsidiary Farms Private Farms % Share S u b s id ia r y F a rm s*

% Share P r iv a te F a r m s* *

♦Percentage o f share produced by subsidiary farms in 1997 for output o f following products. ** Percentage o f share produced by private farms in 1997 for output o f following products. Source: Sotsialno-Ekonomicheskoe Polozhenie Regionov Rossiiskoi Federatsii, 1997 (Moscow: Goskomstat 1998), pp. 189-195.

48

Gregory Ioffe

Indeed, as in most other urban settings in Russia, a typical Voronezh family has two parts, an urban part and a rural part (that is, people who either permanently live in or still own their residence in the country). During times of crisis versus times of prosperity, this “extended” family operates as a system of communicating vessels. At one time, the rural part expands at the expense of the urban part. At another time, the opposite takes place. It is only in Moscow and St. Petersburg where a large proportion of the population no longer engages in this practice, although a sizable proportion still does. But elsewhere it has always been the case. So when in 1992 the official restrictions on buying or leasing rural land by urbanites were removed, which itself is an element of change, the floodgates of continuity burst open, and only the laziest or the wealthiest didn’t take advantage of this. Somewhat exaggerating, one may say that everybody is working land these days in Russia. The observation that subsidiary farming is widespread is not meant to act as an endorsement of this form of agriculture. Subsidiary farming usually employs very archaic methods and is not an ideal mode of food supply. Indeed, in a peculiar way, current Russian practices resemble those of the Big Leap Forward in China when small-scale smelters were set up in rural communities. Only in Russia, it is the other way around: instead of industry encroaching on villages’ backyards, farming is becoming everybody’s chore. Russia’s urban areas in that regard are more like villages in transition. Evidently, the knack for working land has not been lost by many urbanites in a country of delayed and relatively recent urbanization. As Anatoly Vishenvskyi observed, of those Russian urbanites who were sixty and over in 1990, only 15 percent were urbanites by birth; of those in their forties about 40 percent were bom in urban areas; and only among those population cohorts aged twenty-two or younger are more than half lifelong urbanites. However, the latter group accounts for only 37 percent of Russia’s urban population.3 One may conclude, therefore, that Russia is a more mral country than actual statistics of mral-urban population ratio would allow one to admit. And it is evidently this sort of continuity that serves as a safety net, preventing widespread hunger in Russia, even in the wake of a dramatic crop failure like that of 1998, and even if Americans had not come up with an aid package. The above may cast some light on what may seem a strange skepticism revealed even in the most pro-Western organs of the Russian media when Strobe Talbott, a strong proponent of aid to Russia, declared that hunger in Russia was

Continuity in Rural Russia

49

imminent by winter’s end without Western intervention.4 Several Russian analysts responded by suggesting that the actual motive of aid organizers was to help their own farmers sell their surpluses.5 Soon thereafter even some Western observers lashed out at the “farce of Russian food aid,”6 pointing to its largely negative effects,7 attributing it to an obscure diplomat in Moscow. Ironically, when Senator Richard G. Lugar later drew a similar conclusion after his November 1998 trip to Russia, some notable Russian experts cheered.8 Although this controversy is rooted in politics for the most part, it also highlights the lack of persuasive knowledge that U.S. policy-makers receive from the Russian agrarian scene, with Russian fanning resembling an iceberg nine-tenths of which is concealed from the uninitiated.

Measuring Reform The second reason why the issue of continuity is complex is rooted in the question, “what is actually the yardstick of success in Russia’s agrarian reform?” Quite a few, if not the majority, of Western analysts actually skip this question because for the majority of them it is overly clear from the outset that such a yardstick is the spread of Westem-style private family farming and the corresponding spread of the rural bourgeoisie. According to this school of thought, if the bourgeois mode of production is not making sufficient headway, the situation is branded intractable and the invisible hand of, not in this case, Adam Smith but Karl Marx, or perhaps Lenin, seems to be at fault. Interestingly enough, Russia-based analysts are not in a hurry to attribute the failure to implant private farms in Russia to vestiges of communism. While by now it has become clear that Russians have lost any interest in private farming by and large, a few years ago it was not so clear. Figure 2.1 displays a set of pronouncements made in the mid-1990s by well-known Russians, who, at some point, were ardent advocates of market reforms and proponents of private farming in particular. The first of these pronouncements belongs to Gennadii Lisichkin, author of the 1965 pro-reform bestseller, Plan i Rynok (Plan and Market), an unveiled praise of market economy and private family farming in particular that was immediately translated into Czech and Hungarian. Subsequently, Gennadii Lisichkin’s name virtually disappeared from the media for the next twenty years, only to reemerge in the late 1980s under Mikhail

Gregory Ioffe Figure 2.1. Russian Reformers’ Pronouncements about Prospects for Private Farming GENNADII LISICHKIN: Independent farming would require too expensive, state-of-the-art machinery which is beyond the reach of the average farmer. “Having farmers buy such equipment would be like forcing a concert grand piano on the owner of a one-room apartment.” (Izvestiia, 30 November 1995) BORIS NEMTSOV: The # 1 hindrance in the privatization of land in the province of Nizhnii Novgorod has been the lack of people who would like to become owners. (Argumenty i Fakty, 31 July 1996) EVGENIIA SEROVA: But needless to say, sensible economists have never believed that private farmers can feed this country. (Brianskyi Rabochyi, 19 June 1996) ELENA IAKOVLEVA: Whereas from the perspective of ideal economic calculations a large meat processing plant is more productive and competitive than small sausage shops and a couple of bumpkins peddling piglets, in actual economic situations the plant languishes because of capricious deliv­ eries, while bumpkins with piglets fare OK. (Izvestiia, 14 December 1995)

Continuity in Rural Russia

51

Gorbachev. It is precisely this staunch advocate of private farming in the past who is now pouring cold water on overheated expectations of the adepts of unbridled rural privatization. Another expert quoted in Figure 2.1 is Boris Nemtsov. Currently with an unclear political future, he was the most reformminded provincial governor in Russia, ready to be upgraded to Vice-Premier of Russia in 1996. His experimentation with farm privatization auctions in Nizhnii Novgorod was not only widely acclaimed in the West but was actually conducted under the supervision of the International Financial Corporation - an arm of the World Bank - and were so widely publicized, as if some kind of a revolution happened there. The next personality quoted in Figure 2.1 is Evgeniia Serova. A close associate of Egor Gaidar, she leads an agrarian lab in his Transition Economy Institute, a Moscow-based think tank of radical reformers. Finally, Elena Iakovleva, the last personality quoted in the figure, is a former columnist of Izvestiia. However, not only pronouncements of our contemporaries are noteworthy in this regard. Whoever deals with Russian farming needs to understand Russian history and culture. It will then become clear to him or her that Russian attachment to collective farming predates Communism by quite a few centuries. And neither Piotr Stolypin, the slain Russian prime minister, nor moderate Communists under the New Economic Policy of 1921-1927, could destroy this bastion of cultural continuity that centered on communal farming and primitive egalitarianism. On the other hand, Stalin’s collectivization did succeed, in the first place because it offered forms of rural survival reminiscent of communal lifelong traditions of Russian peasantry. The popular and deep-rooted nature of Russian resistance to Westem-style private farming presents a challenge to the West. If Western experts are indeed dedicated to democracy, which has become a highly unpopular term in today’s Russia in part through their efforts, and if they are sincere in their dedication, they need to pay attention to the sentiments of both rank-and-file and not-sorank-and-file Russians. It would hardly be democratic to impose somebody else’s prescriptions on a different cultural environment. Whatever failures the people of Russia have experienced in recent years, or centuries, in the final analysis it is up to them to make a choice of what mode of agricultural production they are going to espouse.

52

Gregory Ioffe False Expectations

The third reason why continuity in the Russian countryside is a complex issue is that much of the Western literature on the topic is based on false expectations of a rapid transformation to Westem-style economies. As Russian area studies undergoes a (normal) generational change, the loss of the “outgoing” generation can lead to a narrowing of perspectives. Quite a few people became interested in Russian affairs, the Russian countryside being just one example, on the wave of expectations that go back to the stormy events of 1991. The very first comprehensive American book on the Russian countryside bore the imprint of these expectations. The book’s title was The Farmers’ Threat,9 a kind of threat that, as we already know, has never materialized and is not about to do so. In fact, this book was indicative of a kind of infatuation between Western experts on the one hand and Russian private farmers on the other hand. Apparently it was unrequited love because all of the passion was radiated from the Western side, and Russian peasants stayed unruffled. In contrast to this type of short-term passion, the Russian countryside requires a longer-term and calmer approach. While one cannot overestimate the significance of developments of the 1990s, not everything, by far, that has developed in the Russian countryside has its roots in the 1990s. The fact that continuity reigns supreme may be bad, in some ways, but it is good in a sense that no cataclysms on the scale that affected Russian manufacturing have affected agriculture. If anything, Russians enjoy a higher food security today than they did in the 1980s when many more of them were dependent upon the state-sponsored retail system.

Degree and Direction of Change Despite the resilience of the Russian countryside and its resistance to change, change has occurred. The degree of change experienced by rural Russia is far less than the degree of continuity, however. A significant proportion of change, in fact, represents elements of continuity in disguise. Yet, a discussion of change is necessary to demonstrate the ways in which, and the extent to which, continuity reigns supreme.

Continuity in Rural Russia

53

First of all, contrary to the past, both distant and recent, no single dominant pattern exists that bonds Russian peasantry at the local level. In the past the peasant commune prevailed, and it gave way to the collective and/or state farm. Today a large number of rural production (socioeconomic) units are stuck within the triangle whose comers are “a community for collective survival, a production cooperative, and a private business” (Figure 2.2). To which comer of this triangle any given concrete farm gravitates depends on several variables, one of which is its proximity to a large city. This newly emerged plurality has several ramifications: 1) The majority of collective and state farms changed their status to jointstock companies and comradeships. Although this involved few real changes, and none whatsoever in the internal governance of the enterprise, shareholding is something new: one can now withdraw and take one’s land share or demand compensation, and one can expand one's subsidiary plot (legally up to 5 ha versus 0.06 ha in the past). 2) The variety of options for selling produce is perhaps the most real change, although not necessarily for the better. Less than ten years ago about 90 percent of collective and state farm produce was being sold to the state procurement system. But by 1997, only 27 percent of these farms’ grain, 9 percent of potatoes, 29 percent of vegetables, and 69 percent of milk were sold to state processing factories.10 As a result of this shift in marketing, farmers now expend a great deal of time and energy on the mechanics of selling their produce, much to their collective dislike. 3) Subsidizing has changed. While in 1989 direct federal subsidies were at the level of 40 percent of the total agricultural output, today they are down to 2.5 percent.11 However, local {oblast) contributions to state aid are a powerful factor now. This is not a direct federal subsidy but derives from regional budgets and depends upon a region's tax base and the political orientation of local authorities. It is true that, since only twenty subdivisions of the Russian Federation are net contributors to the federal budget and the rest are net recipients, this aid is not purely regional. Yet its use is allotted locally. At the same time, the percentage share of agriculture in the federal budget has been reduced from 19 percent in 1991 to 2 percent for 1997.12 Also, in the past a prevalent form of subsidy was markups of farm-gate prices (these markups were differentiated to benefit the weakest). Today, markups are relatively uniform, although another factor, a chronic deferment of payments for produce, hits the strongest farms the hardest.

54

Gregory Ioffe

4) Socialized farms are now far less constrained in their personnel decisions than in the past and can, for example, fire an alcoholic. It is mostly farms located in urban margins that actually exercise this right, and the new phenomenon o f rural unemployment to some extent derives from this. To a greater extent, however, rural unemployment derives from voluntary with­ drawals from peripheral, outlying farms by those who have chosen to live off their subsidiary plots and unemployment benefits, however small. Unfortu­ nately, the unreliability of statistics on Russian rural unemployment greatly inhibits the accurate analysis of this issue. Despite the significant changes in rural Russia discussed above, as before, the mainstay of Russian agriculture is collective farming. Collective farming accounts for about one-half of the country’s agricultural output (Table 2.1) and officially controls 80.4 percent of its agricultural land.13 Eighty-two percent of production units in this virtually public sector are de facto bankrupt,14 although formal bankruptcy procedures have been applied extremely rarely. Debts are still being written off on a regular basis. As a matter of fact, when one analyzes the geography of accumulated outstanding debt, one can see clearly the so-called “red belt” of Russia, that is, the area in which people overwhelmingly vote communist. In this area outstanding debt per farm is at its highest. One could argue that subsidiary farming on personal plots, discussed in detail above, has supplanted collective farming as the mainstay of Russian agriculture. Already by 1993, subsidiary farms had outstripped collective farms as a source of personal income (the former provided 40 percent of personal earnings and the latter provided 32 percent, versus 59 percent and 22 percent in 1989).15 Russian rural inhabitants, therefore, have de facto opted for subsidiary farms even though the level of technology available for them is in most cases primitive. The year 1994, however, was the last in which personal auxiliary farming (PAF) output was still growing. PAFs may have exhausted their growth potential, which reinforces the idea that collective farming is still the cornerstone of Russian agriculture, not independent family operations.

EMERGENCE OF LAND MARKET

REVERSAL OF RURAL MIGRATION

REDUCTION OF INVESTMENT IN INFRASTRUCTURE

•

•

REGIONAL PATTERN OF REFORM

WEST-EAST PRODUCTIVITY GRADIENT

DEPOPULATION AND LAND-USE POLARIZATION

LACK OF PRIVATE OWNERSHIP OF LAND

DEPENDENCE ON FOOD IMPORTS

Figure 2.2. Continuity and Change in Rural Russia

COMPETITION WITH IMPORTS

•

•

D) OVERWHELMING SIGNIFICANCE OF AGRICULTURE IN THE COUNTRYSIDE

D) RURAL UNEMPLOYMENT

ATTITUDES TOWARD PRIVATE FARMING PEASANT CHARACTER OF AGRICULTURE

C) DEPENDENCE

C) LEVEL AND MECHANISM OF SUPPORT

EMERGENCE OF PRIVATE FARMING SURGE IN SUBSIDARY FARMING

B) REGIMENTATION

B) VARIETY OF SELLING OPTIONS

• •

A) STABILITY OF INTERNAL GOVERNANCE

COOPERATIVE

CONTINUITY • COLLECTIVE FARMING: STILL CORNERSTONE OF RUSSIAN AGRICULTURE

A) ADJUSTMENT OF STATUS, SHAREHOLDING

PRIVATE BUSINESS

COMMUNITY FOR COLLECTIVE SURVIVAL

• FROM A DOMINANT SOCIO-ECONOMIC PATTERN TO AN OPTION SPACE:

CH ANG E A

56

Gregory Ioffe Food Imports

The competition with food imports is another solid change. Previously, such competition was hidden. It is not that Russia has expanded agricultural imports greatly in recent years in monetary terms. What has changed is the composition of imports. Instead of grain used as animal feed, Russia is now mostly importing meat. The dramatic decline in the number of head of cattle is sometimes cited as the reason for this change. In reality, this is the effect rather than the cause. When true cost accounting practices were adopted by Russian farm managers, they quickly realized that it does not make economic sense to purchase grain and then squander it at highly inefficient cattle fattening and poultry farms. In contrast, it makes a great deal of sense to purchase the finished product - meat. Hence the decline in number of cattle. This is the reason why grain imports actually dropped twenty-five times between 1991 and 1995 alone. On the other hand, poultry imports increased more than nine times between 1991 and 1995.16 And as it was predicted, the positions of some exporters of American poultry (Tyson and some others) are being partially recaptured after a slump following the 17 August 1998 events.17

Population Dynamics Yet another publicized change in Russia has been the reversal of rural migration, discussed in more detail in the following chapter. Indeed, in 1991, for the first time since the early 1930s, the rural population of Russia showed an increase. However, this fact does not represent a rural revival. First of all, population increase in the rural areas had stopped by 1995; that is, in 1995 the decline resumed. And this is despite a continuation of positive net rural in-migration. Two other components of rural population dynamics, the natural increase of population and the so-called reclassification of settlements, also need to be taken into account. The latter is a change in a settlement’s status: whereas in the 1960s and 1970s many rural settlements were upgraded and became townships, in the 1990s, the opposite took place. As a result of a rural exodus, some townships were again “demoted” and became rural villages. In 1992 when the whole population growth in the countryside was recorded for the first time, reclassification contributed half (Table 2.2).

Continuity in Rural Russia Table 2.2. Components of Rural Population Change in Russia, 1961-1997, in Thousands Net Migration

Reclassification

Total

Natural

Change

Increase

1 9 6 1-65

-2176

3483

-4202

-1457

19 6 6-70

-4200

1555

-5171

-584

19 7 1-75

-4668

998

-5073

-594

19 7 6 -8 0

-2343

719

-2591

-471

19 8 1 -8 5

-1591

788

-1836

-542

1986

-272

243

-392

-123

1987

-199

233

-391

-41

1988

-208

180

-331

-57

1989

-208

145

-275

-78

1990

-58

87

-72

-73

1991

285

44

57

184

1992

721

-33

289

465

1993

151

-184

264

71

1994

65

-227

272

20

1995

-113

-219

96

10

1996

-147

-239

34

58

1997

-133

-233

56

44

Sources: Otsenki Chislennosty i M igratsii Naseleniia v Rossiiskoi Federatsii v 1993 godu (Moscow: Goskomstat, 1994); Naseleniie Rosii (Moscow: Eurasia, 1995); Demographic Yearbooks o f the Russian Federation (Moscow: Goskomstat, 1997 and 1998).

58

Gregory Ioffe

With regard to natural increase, there is a sad irony in the fact that the tide of rural migration was reversed - favorably for the countryside - at precisely the time when the accumulated result of long-term out-migration came to exert its full impact. Deaths began to drastically outnumber births (see Table 2.2) as a result of the accumulated change in age structure conditioned by draining the more youthful segments of the village population through migration. As in most countries, age-specific fertility in the Russian countryside is higher than in urban areas. But, because there are so few mothers of childbearing age in most rural regions of Russia, heightened age-specific fertility cannot outweigh deaths. So despite population growth in the early 1990s, rural depopulation has not reversed; in fact, it has become worse. Rural depopulation continues to be at the heart of the issue of rural population change, a fact that “has been virtually ignored by Western analysts of Russian agrarian reform,” as noted by Stephen Wegren, Tatiana Nefedova, and this author. Instead, “almost exclusive attention has been paid to the reform of legislation, rural institutions, and policies.”18 It is important to take into account that Russian rural population has been subjected to negative selection through out-migration from the countryside for a long period of time. As a result, this countryside was drained not only of the young, but also of the skilled and the ambitious. The quality of human capital in the countryside and its age structure are such that they do not provide the basis for any kind of rapid (positive) transformation. Among ethnically Russian areas of the Russian Federation, those with the biggest potential for rural revival are the piedmont provinces of the Northern Caucasus economic macro-region (Rostov, Stavropol, and Krasnodar). These areas have never experienced the acute demographic crisis that their more northern counterparts have, and they have been traditional migration magnets in Russia for decades. Aside from these traditionally favorable areas, Leningrad, Samara, Sverdlovsk, and Kurgan Oblasts possess the most favorable demographic prospects. Of ethnically non-Russian areas, Bashkortostan holds most promise. In all areas mentioned, positive net migration into the countryside outweighs negative natural increase. Evidently a social environment more hospitable than the average has been created in these areas, not in the least through efforts of local authorities. Bashkortostan has also been unique in terms of retaining most of its pre-crisis number of cattle.

Continuity in Rural Russia

59

Spatial Polarization In most other Russian areas (and even in some of those mentioned above), a rampant spatial polarization of the countryside has been unfolding for years. As a result, in most cases the most important variable on which demo-economic health and well-being of the countryside hinges is the distance to a large city. Rural out-migration and overall population change throughout the postwar years had a vivid spatial pattern. One could say that rural activity spaces in most Russian regions are becoming spatially compacted. The rate of population decline in the so-called outlying areas, which account for 40-80 percent of oblasts' land areas and are located outside two-hour accessibility of a large city by public transportation, has been much higher than in urban margins. It is the spacious rural periphery, a non-classic hinterland (because it is a hinterland within a Russian heartland), which has suffered the severest demographic losses with millions of hectares of land ultimately abandoned. This process has had its utmost expression in the non-Chernozem provinces as discussed in detail elsewhere.19 Because of this deepening spatial disparity, there is a steeper gradient of agricultural land-use intensity today between urban margins and the periphery in each and every Russian province than ever before. The current incoming migration is not undoing this pattern. In fact, it is aggravating it as migrants predominantly head for urban margins. Moreover, the size of the inflow is not commensurate with previous losses and is not likely to become so in the long run, although its dependency upon push rather than pull factors links it more closely with the situation in urban areas rather than in the countryside itself. As one German expert on Russia pointed out, the urban crisis is a godsend for the countryside20 because none of the expensive rural revival projects, and there have been many since 1965, resulted in rural population growth. But the positive net migration into the Russian exurbia may be a mixed blessing in quite a few cases. A substantial number of rural newcomers are ethnic Russian refugees and forced migrants from former republics. Most ethnic Russians living in the “near abroad” are urbanites. Many of these people are temporarily unable to find employment or housing in cities and towns, and they are simply residing in proximate rural areas until their situation improves, biding their time until promising opportunities arise in nearby urban centers.

60

Gregory Ioffe Conclusion

In conclusion, the issue of continuity in the Russian countryside is an ambiguous one. On the one hand, it is the flip side of what is backward and archaic. But, in some ways, it is also a source of strength in the face of crisis. Even the contraction in the extent of the economically active rural space, a contraction similar to the long-term decline in human capital in the countryside, is ambiguous in several ways. On the one hand, this contraction represents a profound failure as land cultivated for centuries is being abandoned in a country that has not fully resolved its food-supply problem. On the other hand, this contraction is not unlike weeding out the weakest “the Russian way,” that is, not through bankruptcy, but through a profound socio-demographic decline. Indeed, in a Russian context, demographic processes impose more rigorous and implacable constraints than economic rationality alone can impose on economic and spatial development. In the past, an overabundance of space proved to be a lingering source of Russia’s economic backwardness, not in the least by encouraging what one unsympathetic analyst pointedly called “Russia’s simultaneous thrust in all directions.21 We now expect that Russian agriculture will actually benefit from the demographically driven imperatives that it shrink its cultivated land area and gradually employ a smaller, but qualitatively improved, labor force.

Notes 1. Izvestiia (Moscow), 17 December 1998 online version at www.online.ru/ rproducts/izvestia-izvestia-year/. 2. Izvestiia (Moscow), 11 November 1998 online version at www.online.ru/ rproducts/izvestia-izvestia-year/. 3. A.G. Vishnevskii, Serp i Ruble (Moscow: OGI, 1999), p. 94. 4. Strobe Talbott, “Dealing with Russia in a time of troubles,” in Economist (21-27 November 1998), p. 56. 5. Izvestiia (Moscow), 12 November 1998, online version at www.online.ru/ rproducts/izvestia-izvestia-year/; Kommersant-Daily (14 November 1998), online version at www.online.ru/rproducts/commersant-daily-month/.

Continuity in Rural Russia

61

6. Anne Appelbaum, “The Farce of Russian Food Aid,” in IntellectualCapital. com (Internet journal), 3 December 1998. 7. “Food to Russia. But will it help?” in Economist (14-20 November 1998), p. 55. 8. Izvestiia (Moscow), 17 December 1998. 9. Don Van Atta, The “Farmer Threat The Political Economy of Agrarian Reform in Post-Soviet Russia (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1993). 10. Sel’skoe Khoziaistvo v Rossii 1998 (Moscow: Goskomstat, 1999), p. 94. 11. Finansovye Izvestiia (Moscow) 19 February 1998, online version at www. online.ru/rproducts/izvestia-finance-year/. 12. SeVskoe Khoziaistvo v Rossii 1998, p. 19; Rossiia v Tsifrakh (Moscow: Goskomstat, 1999), p. 344. 13. Ibid., p. 51. 14. Ibid., p. 108. 15. Grigory Ioffe and Tatiana Nefedova, Continuity and Change in Rural Russia (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1997), p. 178. 16. Izvestiia (Moscow), 13 June 1995, online version at www.online.ru/ rproducts/izvestia-izvestia-year/. 17. This prediction invokes a memory of a chicken war with America, which, in the spring of 1996 revolved around drumsticks, what Russians call “Bush’s legs,” because they first made it to Russia during the Bush administration. They continue to be called “Bush’s legs” today. 18. Stephen Wegren, Grigorii Ioffe, and Tatyana Nefedova, “Demographic and Migratory Responses to Agrarian Reform in Russia,” in Journal o f Communist Studies and Transition Politics, Vol. 13, No. 4 (1997), p. 54. 19. See Ioffe and Nefedova, Continuity and Change in Rural Russia. 20. Argumenty i Fakty (Moscow), 2 January 1996, p. 4. 21. Henry A Kissinger, “Beware: A Threat Abroad,” inNewsweek (17 June 1996), p. 43.

/

3 Rural Population Change in Russia, 1959-1998 Dmitry Sharkov

The demographic component to agricultural development and rural reform in Russia can hardly be underestimated. Labor is one of the most important factors of production in the rural economy in Russia, especially in the post-Soviet period when the availability of machinery, fertilizer, and other industrial inputs has decreased dramatically. The age and sex structure of the rural population, demographic dynamics, and national and international migration flows all influence the labor market, and, hence, the prospect for future agricultural development and rural reform. In the previous chapters the authors already discussed some important demographic issues. Stephen Wegren noted the importance of rural in-migration, especially by young people, to Kostroma Oblast, and Gregory Ioffe noted the significance of rural depopulation and emphasized the fact that the success (or failure) of Russian agrarian reform in many ways depends upon rural dwellers. In this chapter, the author examines recent demographic trends in a historical context in order to assess the significance and longevity of the initial post-Soviet upswing in demographic indicators. After six years between 1989 and 1995 when the rural population in Russia was growing not only in relative but also in absolute numbers, the demographic pattern resumed the long-established trend of rural depopulation. Despite the natural decline of both rural and urban population that was first reflected by statistical data in 1992 and which continues to the present, the absolute number of rural dwellers grew between 1992 and 1995. This chapter analyzes the generalized trends of natural increase, migration, and administrative change as they contribute to Russian rural population dynamics, with a further concentration on regional patterns of change.

Brief Historical Overview and Some Definitions Historically, the process of population change is generally related to the mechanization of agriculture, the industrialization of the country, and the modernization of the society as a whole.1 The Russian Federation (as well as the

Rural Population Change in Russia, 1959-1998

63

Soviet Union itself) was one of the prime examples of this relationship as the rural population steadily declined in absolute and relative terms almost throughout the entire twentieth century until the beginning of the 1990s. Rural out-migration (including, in some instances, rural depopulation), falling rates of natural increase (the difference between births and deaths), and statistical manipulations all played an important role in this redistribution of population. In addition to these “natural” processes, the Soviet government tried to influence population distribution throughout the country by moving people or creating incentives for people to move from labor surplus areas to labor deficit areas originally from rural areas in the south and in the west to the eastern and northern areas, and later to the rural areas in western and central parts of the Russian Federation. The success of this program was very limited, and control over population movement proved to be mostly an illusion.2 However, this very desire for population control forced authorities to come up with a rather rigid population classification. In the multinational and multiethnic country which was the Soviet Union, this classification was adopted on the “republic” level, taking into consideration some local peculiarities. To the best of this author’s knowledge, the current law was adopted by the Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic (RSFSR) in 1958 and has not changed since. The law states that a legal city must have a minimum of 12,000 inhabitants, of which at least 85 percent should be in non-agricultural occupations. Additionally, the population of so-called settlements of the urban type is also considered urban, and such settlements must have at least 3,000 people with 85 percent of the labor force in non-agricultural occupations. The rural population is made up of residents of settlements which are neither legal cities nor settlements of the urban type.3 Because the classification is related to the size of the settlement and residents’ occupations, every year a number of people are becoming urban or rural dwellers without ever leaving their residences or changing their occupations. This “movement” of people is known as “administrative change,” and needs to be taken into consideration. It also can be seen as an indication of general population trends in Russia.

64

Dmitry Sharkov The Current Situation and General Population Trends

The current socioeconomic situation in Russia is unique in its interaction of demographic, economic, and political factors. It was in late 1991 that the Soviet Union was dissolved, Russia became an independent state, and full-scale social, political, and economic transformations started to take place. Also at that very time, for the first time in the postwar history of the Russian population, the number of deaths exceeded that of births. Russia entered a stage of negative population growth (population decline). This situation in fact is not entirely unique for Russia. About a dozen countries in the world are experiencing an excess of death rates over birth rates, resulting in negative population increase. Other countries of the former Soviet Union and Eastern Europe have been experiencing generally similar patterns, as they attempt to complete the transition of their economies from central planning to market-oriented systems.4 At the same time, the share (and absolute numbers) of rural population began to grow for the first time since the Civil War. In fact, between 1991 and 1998, the Russian population decreased from 148.5 million to 146.7 million (by 1.8 million people), while the rural population grew from 38.7 million to 39.7 million (an increase of 913,000 people). At the same time, the rural share of the total Russian population increased from 26.1 percent to almost 27 percent. However, between 1995 and 1998 the rural population again started to decrease. In two years it lost more than 310,000 people, and the rural proportion of the total population declined very slightly (by about 0.03 percent).5 These population dynamics have been associated with significant economic and social changes, and they have been used widely by both Russian and foreign politicians from all sides of the political spectrum. However, it would be a mistake not to take into consideration some long-term demographic trends from which the present situation evolved. In order to put these population dynamics into perspective, statistical data were compiled starting with 1959. Though the present demographic picture has roots dating back to the beginning of the twentieth century, it is very difficult to obtain comparable data on the population dynamics prior to the Soviet population census of 1959. In the case of the Russian Federation, starting in the 1950s statistical data became greatly more reliable, registration improved and became nearly complete, and “official distortion” of the population statistics

Rural Population Change in Russia, 1959-1998

65

became much less of a problem. The dynamic of Russian population between 1959 and 1998 is presented in Figure 3.1. Figure 3.1. Population Distribution in Russia, 1961-1998

Thousands of people

160,000 T

□rural____________Durban Source: Compiled by the author on the basis of Goskomstat’s official publications.

The graph above illustrates significant changes in the Russian population during the past forty years. The total population was steadily growing until the early 1990s, with a constant relative and absolute decline in the rural population. Then the trend reversed itself. The rural population started to grow in both absolute and relative numbers while the total population decreased. The reversal of this trend coincided with the breakup of the Soviet Union with subsequent economic and, to some extent, social collapse, and the blame for the current demographic situation is usually put on the transition itself. Some (short-lived) growth of the rural population was even viewed as a “Russian Revival” as discussed by Ioffe and Wegren in previous chapters. The true picture behind these trends reveals other major factors that played a very important role. Figure 3.2 shows two components of population change in Russia - natural increase and migration - both of which experienced specific periods of growth and decline during the Soviet period. Since 1959, it is possible to identify two major time periods when the natural increase rate was negative: the first period occurred between 1962 and 1968, and the second took place between 1988 and

66

Dmitry Sharkov

1994, or twenty-six years after the first, the time when population cohorts bom between 1962 and 1968 were passing through their childbearing years. The second demographic crisis had a much more profound effect on the Russian population and lasted for about six years. During the second crisis, not only did the growth rate become negative but, since 1992, the country actually entered the era of absolute population decline. Figure 3.2. Components of Population Change in Russia, 1961-1998

Source: Compiled by the author on the basis of Goskomstat’s official publications.

It is interesting to note a couple of small peaks between 1982 and 1988 that, in the opinion of some, were associated with the initial optimism and hopes about the end of the period of stagnation, glasnost, and perestroika. A much more convincing and materialistic explanation was given by many Russian demographers. For example, in a recent issue of the Russian Itogi magazine, in an article with the ironic title that can be translated into English as “Less People - More Oxygen,” one of the leading Russian demographers, Anatoly Vishnevsky, argued that this rise in natural increase was caused by the combination of two important but different factors affecting both birth and death rates.6 The first factor was a temporary increase in birth rates after the implementation of the special program designed to support families. This program gave mothers significant social benefits, such as up to three years of maternity leave and state pensions. However, the only result of this program was

Rural Population Change in Russia, 1959-1998

67

that the average age of women giving birth decreased. The number of children per family stayed the same, and after the initial peak, birth rates plummeted. A second program had a similarly temporary effect. Death rates decreased dramatically due to the effects of the Gorbachev anti-alcohol campaign, which helped raise the rate of natural increase in the late 1980s. This trend proved to be short-lived, and by 1992-1994, natural increase not only became negative, but the slope of the curve (the rate) became much steeper, which in turn might indicate the role of socioeconomic factors. Since 1994, one can observe some stabilization (and even a slight increase) in the natural increase rates. However, with the birth rates still substantially lower than the death rates, the result is overall negative natural increase. Figure 3.1 clearly indicates that the period of negative natural increase is mostly the continuation of the trend that started in the second half of the 1980s (which was no doubt helped by the social and economic disintegration of the USSR in 1991). This trend itself is a demographic echo originally produced in Russia by the First World War and the Revolution and then greatly enhanced by famine, purges, and the Second World War. Such associations can be further understood and visualized by reviewing the population pyramid for both total and rural populations (see Figures 3.3 and 3.4). Figure 3.3. Total Russian Population, 1998 [

.0 . □ M ale

Figure 3.4. Rural Russian Population, 1998

80-84 T

|

O F e m a le

75-791

I

70-| m ^5-69 160-64

I55:5’ |


.

......

Managing Transnational Waters o f the Aral Sea Basin

147

It also is potentially usable for irrigation purposes, although the salinity of some return flow is too high for this. Thus, total return flows are probably near 40 km3 on an average annual basis. One authoritative source estimates that 36-38 km3 (90-95 percent) of this is potentially available for reuse.16 Including these reserves gives a total upper limit of 170 km3/yr for the usable water resources in the basin. This is significantly more water than is currently withdrawn and might suggest, at first glance, that there is plenty of water to go around for all basin countries and users now and for the foreseeable future. The situation is considerably more complicated. First, there are losses of flow that are unavoidable, or at least difficult and costly to reduce (e.g., filtration from the river bed, evaporation from reservoirs, evapo-transpiration from riparian vegetation). These may run to 16 km3 in average flow years along the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia.17 Second, river flow is uneven on an intra- and interannual basis. Thus, there are seasons and years when flows are much more than usage and other seasons and years when they are much less. To maximize the seasonal and multiyear availability of water, large dams and reservoirs are constructed to store water during high flow periods (spring and early summer) and years for use during low flow periods of high demand (late spring and summer) and low flow years.18 However, it is neither economically feasible nor environmentally wise to totally regulate rivers, particularly those as large as the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia. Economically, the marginal cost of total or near total regulation (i.e., storing all or nearly all spring-early summer flow in every year for later release) would entail constructing costly additional storage capacity that is filled for only short periods. Such an approach would also mean that for substantial periods during the high flow season, river beds below the dams would be dry or nearly dry for significant distances (to the next major tributary or next reservoir) with extremely serious negative environmental and sanitary consequences.19 Thus, not all the seasonal surplus flow, and especially the surplus flow in high-water years, can be stored for times when flow is low and demand is high. Seasonal and multiyear storage dams have been built on both rivers and their tributaries to increase water resource availability during low flow periods. The aggregate, usable storage capacity in the entire Aral Sea Basin is cited as 44 km3 (17 in the basin of the Amu Dar’ia and 27 in the basin of the Syr Dar’ia).20 The largest storage facilities are the Toktogul (gross capacity of 19.5 and usable capacity of 14 km3) on the Syr Dar’ia and the Nurek (gross capacity of 10.5 and

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useable capacity of 4.5 km3) on the Vakhsh, a tributary of the Amu Dar’ia.21 Storage has allowed the increase of the ensured yield of water (a measure of the flow that can be used) in a 90 percent flow year,22 occurring, on average, once in ten years, to 52 km3 on the Amu Dar’ia and to 27 km3 on the Syr Dar’ia for a total of 79 km3. The amount of water that is available in the low flow years is, in fact, most crucial for water resource management. It is more indicative of the state of water resources in arid regions such as the Aral Sea Basin than the average annual figure, which is overweighted by the high flow years, much of whose flow cannot be stored nor used. Examining water availability in low flow years, which usually occur in cycles in arid regions rather than being randomly distributed, the situation looks much less sanguine than the average annual flow scenario presented above. If we take the 79 km3 figure for a 90 percent flow year and subtract “unavoidable” losses of 16 km3, only 64 km3 remain as the usable resource. Assuming usable return flows of 38 km3 and groundwater additions of 17 km3 would give a total available resource of 119 km3. This figure falls within the range of withdrawals (low of 111, high of 126 km3 for the period 1990-1995). But several caveats are in order. First, to reach the 119 km3 figure assumes two critical preconditions: (1) storage of nearly all spring high flows for later use, and (2) filling of the multiyear reservoirs to capacity at the beginning of the dry period. Second, full use would need to be made of usable groundwater and of return flows that are not returned to rivers. In 1992, for example, estimates are that around 12 km3 of the former (71 percent) were used, and only 6 km3 (38 percent) of the latter.23 Based on experience in the basin, these conditions are unlikely to be met anytime in the foreseeable future. In reality, during low flow years withdrawals from the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia river systems in the downstream net-consuming countries of Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan are, of necessity, substantially reduced (as are return flows). Furthermore, it is these years that cause heightened tensions among the states of the basin as the downstreamers try to maximize their share of water coming from the upstreamers (Tajikistan and Kyrgyzstan). The former also apply pressure on the latter, which is strongly resisted, to increase the amount of water delivered downstream by reducing their usage and releasing more water from reservoirs on their territory.

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The Aral Sea Besides the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia, the other key transnational water resource in the Aral Sea Basin is the Aral Sea itself. This water body sits amid the great deserts (Kara-Kum, Kyzyl-Kum, Betpakdala) of Central Asia (Figure 6.1). A terminal lake, i.e., without surface outflow, the balance between surface inflow from the Amu Dar'ia and Syr Dar’ia and net evaporation (evaporation from its surface minus precipitation on it) mainly determine this water body’s level. Net groundwater exchange, which is difficult to measure, plays an insignificant role in the sea’s water balance.24 Inflow and net evaporation each averaged 56 km3 from 1911 to I960.25 Hence, the water balance was in long­ term equilibrium with a maximum lake level variation over this period of less than 1 m. Only two of the seven Aral Sea Basin states are riparian on the Aral Sea, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, with each having an approximately equal length of shoreline. The entire Aral coastline within Uzbekistan lies within that nation’s Karakalpakstan Republic. At nearly 67,000 km2, the Aral Sea, according to area, was the world's fourth-largest inland water body in I960.26 As a brackish lake with salinity averaging near 10 grams/liter, less than a third that of the ocean, it was inhabited chiefly by freshwater species. The sea supported a major fishery and functioned as a key regional transportation route. The extensive deltas of the Syr Dar'ia and Amu Dar'ia sustained a diversity of flora and fauna. They also supported irrigated agriculture, animal husbandry, hunting and trapping, fishing, and harvesting of reeds. Over the past four decades the sea has steadily shrunk and salinized (see Figure 6.3 and Table 6.1). The main cause has been expanding irrigation that diminished inflow from the Amu Dar'ia and Syr Dar'ia. The Aral divided into two water bodies in 1987 —the Small Aral Sea in the north and the Large Aral Sea in the south. The Syr Dar'ia flows into the former, and the Amu Dar’ia into the latter. A channel (river) has intermittently connected the two lakes. Between 1960 and 1998, the level of the Small Aral fell 13 m and the Large Aral 18 m. The area of both seas taken together diminished more than 50 percent and the volume nearly 80 percent. Salinity in the small sea rose around 300 percent and in the large sea nearly 450 percent. The anthropogenically caused desiccation of the Aral Sea has had severe negative impacts. However, these have not affected the basin states equally. Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, as the shoreline riparians, have been most

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Philip Micklin

impacted. Turkmenistan, although not abutting on the sea, has some territory in the Amu Dar’ia delta that is close enough to have suffered substantial damage. Even within Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan, the territory suffering substantial impacts is a small part of each nation’s area and contains a minor portion of each country’s population. For the three states combined, the impacted area may cover, at most, 400,000 km2, or 11 percent of their aggregate territory. Three to four million people out of a total population of 44 million (less than 10 percent) live here.27

Figure 6.3. The Shrinking Aral Sea

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Table 6.1. Hydrographic and Hydrologic Characteristics of the Shrinking Aral Sea Year (January 1) 1960 Large Sea Small Sea

Level

Area

% of

Volume

% of

Salinity

% of

(meters)

(km2)

1960

(km3)

1960

66,900

100

1090

100

(g/i) 9.9

1960

53.4 53.4

60,541

100

1003

100

100

53.4

6,359

100

87

100

1971

51.1

60,200

90

925

85

11.2

113

1976

48.3

55,700

83

763

70

14

141

39,734

59

364

33

1989 Large Sea

39.1

36,930

61

341

34

30

303

Small Sea

40.2

2,804

44

23

26

30

303

35,271

53

294

27

1993 Large Sea

37.1

32,301

53

270

27

-35

353

Small Sea

40.8

2,970

48

24

28

-25

252

30,758

46

236

22

27,996

46

214

21

-45

454

-30

303

1998 Large Sea

35.2

Small Sea

40.0

2,762

43

22

25

23,880

36

164

15

31.6

19,880

33

126

13

>60

606

45.0

4,000

63

38

44

-15

151

2010 Large Sea Small Sea

Values from 1960 to 1998 are derived from Soviet data, data from Glavgidromet o f Uzbekistan; data from S. Shivareva, E. Ponenkova, and B. Smerdov; “Modeling the level o f the Aral Sea,” pp. 5-10, in Problems o f the Aral Sea Basin, research, projects, and recommendations (Tashkent, “Chinor” ENK 1998) (in Russian); and calculations from an annualized water balance model developed by the author. Values for 2010 are calculated from the water balance model with the following assumptions: (1) average annual flow o f Syr Dar’ia to Small Aral o f 3.5 km3 for 1998 and 1999 and 4.5 km3 for 2000-2010, (2) average annual flow o f Amu Dar’ia to Large Aral o f 20 km3 in 1998 and 8 km3 for 1999-2010, (3) flow from Small to Large Aral o f 0 km3 for 1998-2005 and o f 1.65 km3 for 2006-2010, (4) evaporation from the Small Aral o f 0.960 m/yr and from the Large Aral of 0.966 m/yr (5) precipitation on the surface o f the Large Aral o f 0.181m/yr and on the Small Aral o f 0.198 m/yr.

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Furthermore, the administrative regions suffering the most (the Karakalpakstan Republic in Uzbekistan, Kzyl-Orda Oblast in Kazakhstan, and Dashauz Oblast in Turkmenistan) are politically impotent and do not have influence at the national level. Thus, officials in Almaty (recently moved to Akmola), the capital of Kazakhstan, and in Tashkent, capital of Uzbekistan (less so in Ashgabat, capital of Turkmenistan), give lip service to the Aral desiccation and associated consequences as being a regional, and even global, catastrophe of major proportions. This has been a winning strategy to attract substantial international aid. On the other hand, their own efforts and expenditures on solving the worst problems here have not matched their rhetoric precisely because the “crisis” zone is localized, has a relatively small population, and lacks political clout. The other states of the basin (Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, and Iran) are so distant from the zone where intense effects are apparent that they have suffered no demonstrable harm from the drying of the sea. These “geographic” considerations are key to understanding why Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan have been the motive forces in pushing the states of the basin to undertake measures to overcome or alleviate the worst problems, whereas Turkmenistan has shown much less interest and Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan even less. Afghanistan and Iran have had no formal involvement whatsoever with Aral Sea issues. The substantial Aral fishing industries developed by Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan in the first half of the twentieth century ended in 1983 as the indigenous fish (twenty species), which provided the basis for the commercial fishery, disappeared from the effects of rising salinity and loss of shallow spawning and feeding areas.28 It should be noted, however, that all of the indigenous fish survive in the deltaic lakes and Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia rivers, except for the Aral salmon that has become extinct. Introduced, salttolerant fishes (four species) have survived and some even flourished as competition from native species for food disappeared, but even these will probably vanish, at least in the Large Aral Sea, by the early twenty-first century, from rising salinity. Several edible species remain, such as the Black Sea flounder, sprat, and smelt, but are not caught commercially. Because of the loss of the fishery tens of thousands were thrown out of work. Navigation on the Aral also ceased as they abandoned efforts to keep the increasingly long channels open to the major ports of Aral’sk at the northern end of the sea in Kazakhstan and Muinak at the southern end in Uzbekistan (Karakalpakstan).

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As indicated above, the zone of significant damage stretches well beyond the sea and its immediate shoreline. An approximately 400,000-km2 region around the sea (including all of the Karakalpakstan Republic and Khorezem Oblast in Uzbekistan, Dashauz Oblast in Turkmenistan, and the western half of Kzyl-Orda and the southeastern portion of Aktiubinsk Oblast in Kazakhstan), with a population of nearly four million, has been substantially affected. This region is commonly designated the “ecological disaster zone” (Russian: zona ekologicheskogo bedstviia). Damage has been particularly severe to the rich ecosystems of the extensive Amu Dar'ia delta, primarily located in the Karakalpak Republic of Uzbekistan but stretching into Dashauz Oblast of Turkmenistan.29 The Syr Dar'ia delta in Kzyl-Orda Oblast of Kazakhstan has also suffered. Desertification is spreading and intensifying in both. Halophytes and xerophytes (plants tolerant of saline soils and dry conditions) are rapidly replacing endemic vegetation communities.30 Expanses of unique tugai (vegetation communities of trees, bushes, and tall grasses, including poplar, willow, oleaster, salt cedar, and reeds) that formerly stretched along all the main rivers and distributary channels here have been particularly hard hit. According to one expert, whereas tugai covered 100,000 ha in the Amu Dar’ia delta in 1950, it had shrunk to 52,000 ha by the 1970s and to only 15,000-20,000 ha by the mid-1990s.31 Tugai complexes around the Aral Sea are habitats for a diversity of animals, including sixty species of mammals, more than three hundred types of birds, and twenty varieties of amphibians.32 Desiccation of the deltas has significantly diminished the area of lakes, wetlands, and their associated reed communities. Between 1965 and 1986, the area of reeds in the Amu Dar’ia delta decreased from 500,000 ha to 1,000 ha.33 This has been of serious ecological consequence as lakes, wetlands, and their associated reed communities provide prime habitat for a variety of permanent and migratory waterfowl, a number of which are endangered.34 Diminution of the aggregate water surface area coupled with increasing pollution of the remaining water bodies (primarily from irrigation runoff containing salts, fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, and cotton defoliants) has decimated aquatic bird populations. Irrigated agriculture in the deltas of the Amu Dar'ia and Syr Dar'ia has suffered from an inadequacy of water as inflow to the deltas has decreased owing to heavy upstream consumptive use for irrigation. Additionally, water

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that does reach the deltas has elevated salinity from the leaching of salts caused by repeated usage in the middle and upper courses of the rivers.35 At times over 2 grams/liter, these saline flows have lowered crop yields and, in conjunction with inadequate drainage of irrigated fields, promoted secondary soil salinization. Animal husbandry, both in the deltas and desert regions adjacent to the Aral Sea, has been damaged by reduction of the area and declining productivity of pastures resulting from desertification, dropping groundwater levels, and replacement of natural vegetation suitable for grazing by inedible species. For example, in the Amu Dar’ia delta, the area of natural pastures went from 350,000 ha in the 1950s to 125,000 by the late 1980s, while productivity of the remaining pastures was halved.36 Frequent strong winds are blowing sand, salt, and dust from the dried bottom of the Aral Sea, now largely a barren, salt-covered desert with an area over 36,000 km2, onto adjacent lands. The major problem is the dust and salt, as they are transported great distances. Since the mid-1970s, satellite images have shown the major salt/dust plumes extending 200 and even 400 km, causing dust and salt to settle over a considerable area adjacent to the sea in Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and to a lesser degree, in Turkmenistan.37 Around 60 percent of the storms occur with north and northeast winds, carrying the dust and salt over the Ust-Iurt Plateau to the sea’s west and the Amu Dar’ia delta at the south end of the water body. The latter is the most densely settled as well as economically and ecologically important region around the sea.38 Estimates of the total deflated material run from 13 million to as high as 231 million metric tons/yr, with the most probable value between 15 and 150 million tons.39 The entrained salts are believed to constitute only 1 percent of the total, so that the tonnage of salt transferred, even at the higher figure, would be 1.5 million tons.40 However, a careful study by well-known geologists and experts on the Aral from the mid1980s concluded annual aeolian transport of salt alone from the dried bottom was around 43 million metric tons but would decrease slightly to 39 million metric tons by 2000.41 Whatever the true tonnage, considerable amounts of salts in dry and aerosol forms, the most harmful of which include sodium bicarbonate, sodium chloride, and sodium sulfate, are settling on natural vegetation and crops.42 In some cases, plants are killed outright, but more commonly their growth (and for crops, yields) are substantially reduced. The salt and dust also has ill effects on wild and domestic animals by directly harming them and by reducing their food

Managing Transnational Waters o f the Aral Sea Basin

155

supply.43 Local health experts also consider airborne salt and dust a factor contributing to high levels of respiratory illness and impairment, eye problems, and possibly even throat and esophageal cancer in the near Aral region.44 Owing to the sea’s shrinkage, climate has changed in a band up to 100 km wide along the former shoreline in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan.45 Maritime conditions have been replaced by more continental and deseritic regimes. Summers have warmed and winters cooled, spring frosts are later and fall frosts earlier, humidity is lower, and the growing season shorter. The growing season has decreased by an average of ten days in the northern part of the Amu Dar’ia delta and become too short for cotton, forcing a switch from this crop to rice. The population living in the “ecological disaster zone” suffers acute health problems.46 Some of these are direct consequences of the sea’s recession (e.g., respiratory and digestive afflictions and possibly cancer from inhalation and ingestion of blowing salt and dust and poorer diets from the loss of Aral fish as a major food source). Other serious health-related problems owe to environmental pollution associated with the heavy use of toxic chemicals in irrigated agriculture. However, probably the most serious health issues are directly related to “Third World” medical, health, nutrition, and hygienic conditions and practices. Bacterial contamination of drinking water is pervasive and has led to very high rates of typhoid, paratyphoid, viral hepatitis, and dysentery. Tuberculosis is prevalent as is anemia, particularly in pregnant woman. Liver and kidney ailments are widespread. Medical care is very poor, diets lack variety, and adequate sewage systems are rare. Owing to these factors, general mortality and morbidity and infant mortality and morbidity are the highest among the new states that formerly were part of the USSR. Health conditions in the Karakalpak Republic in Uzbekistan appear to be the worst in the Aral Sea Basin with reports of infant mortality rates of 100/1,000 live births reported for some districts. These rates are four times the national level in the former USSR and more than ten times that of the United States.47 Although the severe impacts of the drying of the Aral are felt over a relatively small portion of the basin (some 400,000 km2 out of 1.8 million, or 22 percent), alleviation of the problems must involve the management of water over the entire Aral Basin. Particularly important are the areas of greatest irrigation water usage in Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan, and Uzbekistan. It is here that so much of the flow of the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia is withdrawn for irrigation and consumptively used which has led to the great reduction in discharge.48

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If from 1911 to 1960, discharge to the sea from the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia averaged 56 km3/yr, by the 1980s, it had fallen to 6 km3.49 The early 1990s (1990-1994) saw a cycle of heavy flow years on the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia, which increased average inflow to the sea to 15 km3/yr, but this was a temporary phenomenon (1995, 1996, and 1997 were low flow years, and 1998 a high flow year). Hydrologic probability indicates basin river flow over the longer term will be substantially less than during the first part of the present decade, although likely above what it was in the 1980s (for many of these years, the flow of the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia was significantly below the long­ term average). A conservative but reasonable assumption, assuming continuation of recent basin withdrawals, is that average annual inflow to the sea will be on the order of 10 km3. Thus, to restore the Aral to what it was three decades ago would require increasing average discharge to the sea by some 45 km3. This would necessitate a somewhat larger decrease in upstream withdrawals to compensate for natural losses of the net additions to flow before they reached the sea. Assuming these at 14 percent (based on the figures cited above of 16 km3 natural losses from an average annual basin flow of 116 km3), then an additional 6 km3 reduction would be necessary for a total of around 50 km3. That such a reduction of upstream use (amounting to 45 percent of 1995 withdrawals of 111 km3) could be attained in the foreseeable future without causing economic and social havoc for the countries of the basin that are the major users of water for irrigation seems remote. To even stop the sea’s further shrinkage would require an increase in inflow to around 25 km3 (some two and one half times the estimated long-term figure under present conditions) and necessitate reductions in upstream withdrawals of 15 km3, or 14 percent of the 1995 level. Indeed, many experts (including this author) hold that additional water from the Amu Dar’ia should be used to rehabilitate the deltaic ecosystems rather than being dumped into the Large Aral Sea to uselessly evaporate.50 On the other hand, it may reasonably be argued that supplementary flow from the Syr Dar’ia should be used to raise the level of the now separated small northern Aral Sea, which could be accomplished with relatively modest additions.51 The logic of the differing approach is based on several considerations. To even stabilize the Large Aral Sea would require increases in the flow of the Amu Dar’ia that are simply unattainable in the near or even mid-term future. Even if the Large Aral

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Sea could be stabilized at its present level, its salinity is so high that it has no significant ecological or economic value.52 The opposite is true for the Small Aral Sea (Table 6.1). Because its area is much smaller than the Large Aral Sea, an inflow of 4.5 km3 on an average annual basis (for 1990-1997 the corresponding figure was 4.2 km3) could within five years raise its level to 45 m and expand the area to 4,000 km2. Once the 45 m mark was reached, this level could be maintained with an inflow of 2.85 km3, allowing 1.65 km3 of more saline water in the western part of the sea to spill over to the Large Aral, enhancing the pace of freshening of the sea and creating habitat conditions over the entire Small Aral for the return of indigenous fishes from the Syr Dar’ia with the concomitant restoration of a commercial fishery. The local Kazakh authorities (of Aral’sk Raion in Kzyl-Ordinsk Oblast) in the early 1990s constructed a crude dike to block the channel (river) that had formed between the two seas. However, the dike in the ensuing years periodically washed away. In 1997, they replaced this makeshift dike with a 20km-long, 26-m-wide dam that raised water levels 3 m by early 1999.53 A World Bank project to fund construction of a more technically sophisticated and stable dike, along with construction of a control gate and channel from the western part of the small sea to the large sea, is to be implemented in the near term.54 The dam was “overtopped” by wave and wind-running action in April 1999 and breached with a significant loss of water.55 When the critical situation of the Aral Sea is taken into consideration and the amounts of water needed to begin to improve conditions are added to the existing water uses discussed earlier, it is manifestly clear that the Aral Sea Basin’s water resources are stretched to the limit and beyond. Thus, even during the high flow period of the early 1990s, after upstream withdrawals, there was insufficient inflow to the Aral to stop the sea’s recession. In dry years such as occurred during the 1980s, practically no water reached the sea and the desiccation proceeded alarmingly rapidly. Irrigation The key to improving management of the Aral Sea Basin’s water resources (including provision of substantial additional quantities of water for the Aral Sea, the deltas of the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia, and expanding economic uses) is irrigated agriculture. A recent World Bank report cites the irrigated area in the

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basin in 1995 (excluding Afghanistan and Iran) at 7.94 million ha (Table 6.2). Uzbekistan, at 54 percent, has the majority of the irrigated area with Turkmenistan (22 percent) a distant second. Irrigation is, far and away, the chief source of water withdrawals in the basin, accounting for 92 percent of the 100 km3 total in that same year (Table 6.3). Uzbekistan again leads the pack at 53 percent, trailed by Turkmenistan at 22 percent. Irrigation is a heavily consumptive user of water, i.e., much of the water that is withdrawn is not returned to the source (river or groundwater) from which it is taken but evaporates from fields, transpires from crops, or runs off into desert depressions. Taking this into consideration, irrigation’s contribution in terms of consumptive use to the diminution of basin water resources is greater than its 92 percent share of withdrawals implies. Table 6.2. Irrigated Areas in the Aral Sea Basin in 1995 (million ha) Amu Dar’ia Basin

%

Syr Dar’ia Basin

%

Uzbekistan

2.48

53

1.80

55

4.28

54

Turkmenistan

1.74

37

0.00

0

1.74

22

Tajikistan

0.43

9

0.29

9

0.72

9

Kazakhstan

0.00

0

0.74

22

0.74

9

Kyrgyzstan

0.00

0

0.46

14

0.46

6

Total

4.65

100

3.29

100

7.94

100

Country

Aral Sea Basin %

Source: Adapted from World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, Table 2. Excludes Afghanistan and Iran.

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Table 6.3. Water Withdrawals for Irrigation in the Aral Sea Basin in 1995 (km3) Country

Amu Syr Dar’ia Dar’ia Basin Basin

Aral Specific Total basin % of Sea Aral Sea withdrawal water Basin Basin (m3/ha) withdrawals

Irrigation % of total

Uzbekistan

33.2

19.8

53.0

53.0

12,383

58.0

91

Turkmenistan

22.4

0.0

22.4

22.4

12,874

23.1

97

Tajikistan

7.0

3.3

10.3

10.3

14,306

12.0

86

Kazakhstan

0.0

9.7

9.7

9.7

13,108

11.0

88

Kyrgyzstan

0.0

4.6

4.6

4.6

10,000

5.1

90

Total

62.6

37.4

100.0

100.0

12,594

109.2

92

Source: Adapted from World Bank, A ral Sea Basin Program, Table 2. Excludes Afghanistan and Iran.

Substantial savings of water are possible in the irrigation sector through contraction of the irrigated area, improvements in irrigation efficiency, and switching from higher to lower water use crops. The irrigated area in the Aral Sea Basin was 7.25 million ha in 1990.56 It rose to 7.94 million ha in 1995, a 9.5 percent increase.57 All the basin states except Kazakhstan plan further near-term increases in the irrigated area: Kyrgyzstan by over 400,000 ha, Tajikistan between 40,000 and 140,000 ha, Turkmenistan by 600,000 ha, and Uzbekistan from 420,000 to over 600,000 ha.58 A common argument used to justify the increases is the need to expand food production to meet population growth. Hence, the likelihood of significant water savings from reductions in the irrigated area appears dim for the foreseeable future. Substantial water savings in irrigation, therefore, most probably must come through improvements in efficiency and replacement of highly waterconsumptive crops with lower-use varieties. Arriving at savings from raised efficiency entails determining the minimum amount of water that needs to be withdrawn in a given area for optimal (or near optimal) growth of a specific crop mix. The difference between this figure and what is actually withdrawn represents potential gross savings. However, the net additions to usable water resources would be less as corrections are necessary to take account of reduced

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drainage water return flows to rivers. Calculating the “minimum” (or “norm” in Soviet terminology still used in Central Asia) is not easy as it depends on the availability of detailed and accurate data on climate, soil conditions, and crops at a scale sufficiently large to reflect the regional variability in the Aral Sea Basin as well as calculating the minimum obtainable losses in the irrigation delivery system. An authoritative figure cited at the end of the Soviet period for the minimum average field application rate obtainable was 8,500 m3/ha.59 Assuming the average losses in the delivery canals could be lowered to 20 percent, meaning that 80 percent of the water would reach delivery points to the fields, the overall withdrawal would be 10,600 m3/ha. Subtracting this figure from the basin-wide withdrawal for 1995 of 12,594 m3/ha indicates possible savings of 1994 m3/ha. This would translate into a basin-wide reduction of 15.8 km3/yr. Net savings (corrected for reductions in return flows to rivers) would be less. Assuming return flows to rivers at 24 percent of withdrawals, typical for the first half of the 1990s, and that they would be reduced by the same percentage as withdrawals (15.8 percent), net savings would equal 12 km3/yr. The gross figure falls within the range of estimated feasible water savings (12.7 to 18.3 km3) made by the countries of the region in the mid-1990s, and the net figure is close to the lower end of the range.60 The savings noted above are mainly based on introduction of traditional technologies for reducing irrigation water usage through lining canals, leveling fields, and applying water to crops more carefully. Combining these techniques with newer methods (e.g., partially replacing furrow irrigation, which occupies 70 percent of the irrigated area, with drip and subsoil irrigation; introduction of scheduling computers and specialized software; real-time monitoring of soil moisture and crop water needs; genetic engineering of crops to lower water requirements; precision farming using satellite imagery and GPSs) could lead to substantially greater savings. Thus Israel, with similar climatic conditions to the Aral Sea Basin, but technologically sophisticated irrigation practices, has an average withdrawal of 5,590 m3/ha.61 Such a figure is probably out of reach in the Aral Sea Basin because of the much longer length of water-losing delivery canals and the different crop mix. However, if average water withdrawals could be lowered to 8,000 m3/ha, as Victor Dukhovnyi, a leading Central Asian irrigation expert, proposed in 1985, gross savings of 36.5 km3 and net savings of 27.7 km3 would accrue.62

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Savings from efficiency improvements could well be significantly larger than indicated above. Evidence suggests that the official figures provided by the basin states for their irrigation withdrawals are underestimated.63 The system of measuring deliveries to “cooperative” users (the former collective and state farms), inadequate during Soviet times, has significantly deteriorated. Frequently, what is reported as farm usage is not based on actual measurement (because measuring equipment is absent or not working) but is an educated guess derived from the established water use norms (standards) for the region and farm crop mix (i.e., it represents what should be delivered to the farm, not what is actually used). Usage by the variety of “private” farming types that have developed in the Aral Sea Basin countries since independence is even more of a mystery. In the majority of instances, no organized system exists to measure their withdrawals. It is also likely the area irrigated in any given year is exaggerated as it represents the area with completed irrigation facilities but is not adequately reduced for those systems that are under repair, not working, or have been removed from production (for example, because of excessive soil salinization or lack of water). The farms and states, of course, have an incentive to overreport the area irrigated and underreport water withdrawals as it makes them look better in terms of efficiency, i.e., water use per hectare. Implementation of a large-scale program for technical improvement of irrigation in the Aral Sea Basin would be a gigantic undertaking and require a long period for implementation. For the basin as a whole in 1994, the length of main and interfarm irrigation channels was around 48,000 km; only 28 percent of these were lined to reduce filtration.64 The situation was even worse for onfarm canals: over 268,000 km with 21 percent lined. In Uzbekistan 10,000 km of main and interfarm canals need lining, and nearly 2 million ha with older irrigation systems, nearly one-half the irrigated area, need reconstruction.65 Fifty percent of irrigated lands in the basin suffers from salinity, which is probably the most serious problem faced by irrigated agriculture.66 In a 1989 survey of salinized lands, 53 percent were considered slightly salinized, 32 percent moderately salinized, and 13 percent strongly salinized. Large areas of irrigated lands also suffer from high water tables as a result of the lack of drainage facilities or ones that are inadequate or not working properly. Of the major irrigation zones, only the Golodnaia steppe and Khorezm oasis have adequate drainage facilities. In general, groundwater levels are rising nearly everywhere, exacerbating waterlogging and soil salinization. Disposal of the

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huge volumes of salinized and polluted (with agricultural chemicals and fertilizers) irrigation drainage water is also a growing problem. The volume of these discharges reached 43 km3 annually by the mid-1990s.67 A large part of the land that now is irrigated by pumped irrigation needs to be converted to gravitational delivery. Uzbekistan experts have estimated the rehabilitation costs for the older irrigation systems in the basin. According to one calculation, the introduction of drip irrigation would cost $5,000-7,000/ha and the general raising of system efficiency $3,000-4,000/ha.68 A World Bank-sponsored study indicates renovation of irrigation and drainage systems could run to $3,000/ha.69 This document also estimates that 5.4 million (68 percent) of the 7.94 million ha of irrigated lands in 1995 need reconstruction. At $3,000/ha, this would cost $16 billion. Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, with the largest areas under irrigation and the largest share of the systems needing reconstruction, would bear the brunt of the bill. It is extremely doubtful that the states of the basin, individually or collectively, have the funds now, or will in the near or mid-term future, to fund so costly a project. Furthermore, the condition of irrigation systems in the basin has deteriorated since independence as funds for maintenance and repair have plummeted; responsibility for system maintenance has fallen between the cracks or been dumped on farm units that are incapable or unwilling to conduct the necessary work; and the supply of replacement parts and equipment that formerly came from other republics of the USSR has dried up. Thus, overall rehabilitation costs are steadily rising with time. One disturbing result of the deteriorating condition of irrigated lands in the Aral Sea Basin (plus other factors such as poor seed quality, a sharp drop in usage of fertilizers and pesticides, poorly timed agricultural operations, and illtimed harvests) has been a steady decline in yields of most major irrigated crops, especially in Kazakhstan and Tajikistan.70 From 1990 to 1994 yields of cereals fell 19 percent in Uzbekistan, 37 percent in Kazakhstan, 23 percent in Turkmenistan, 50 percent in Kyrgyzstan, and 59 percent in Tajikistan. Cotton yields declined 7 percent in Uzbekistan, 31 percent in Kazakhstan, 2 percent in Turkmenistan, 24 percent in Kyrgyzstan, and 31 percent in Tajikistan. Vegetable yields rose by 23 percent in Turkmenistan, held steady in Uzbekistan, but fell between 33 percent and 68 percent for the other states. Switching the crop mix from high water-use crops (rice and cotton) toward lower (grains, vegetables, melons, fruits, and soybeans) could be a relatively

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low-cost means of reducing water use compared to massive technical rehabilitation. In fact, the reason irrigation water withdrawals in the basin remained essentially the same (around 100 km3) between 1990 and 1995 while the irrigated hectarage was growing nearly 10 percent can be attributed to crop substitution.71 The primary switch was from cotton to grains (mainly winter wheat). From 1990 to 1994, the percent of the total cropped area devoted to grains increased from 12 percent to 26 percent, whereas cotton shrank from 40 percent (or perhaps 45 percent) to 37 percent.72 The purpose of these changes, however, was not so much water savings but strengthening of the national food bases. Uzbekistan made the largest absolute substitution of grain for cotton and Turkmenistan the largest percentage switch. It is unlikely grains in these two states will replace further large areas of cotton in the near future, as cotton is an important foreign-currency-eaming export crop for both. Adoption of governmental policies promoting irrigation water pricing, privatization of land, and giving rights of self-governance and responsibility for management of on-farm and inter-farm irrigation systems to farmer-irrigators could encourage introduction of water saving practices in the Aral Sea Basin without massive governmental expenditures.73 Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, and particularly Kyrgyzstan have taken some serious steps in this direction. Uzbekistan has talked about these subjects but made only feeble moves toward implementing meaningful policies. Turkmenistan has done practically nothing. Among the key problems hindering further advancements along these lines are governmental resistance based on fear of losing social and economic control, opposition from the former collective (now cooperative) farms and local officials, fear of land speculation and exacerbating rural underemployment and unemployment, lack of means to measure water deliveries to farmers, and the impoverished state of the farming economy. Small-scale, locally managed irrigation systems were common in Central Asia prior to Soviet rule.74 These systems employed small, carefully leveled fields surrounded by low earthen walls planted with trees to effectively control water use and prevent secondary salinization. Although the technology of these systems was “primitive,” water usage was surprisingly low: net field-side irrigation norms were 8,000 m3/ha and gross withdrawals (including losses in delivery canals of 30 percent) ranged from 10,700-11,500 m3/ha. During the 1920s and afterward, these facilities were completely obliterated and replaced by much larger, supposedly technically advanced systems. However, the new

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systems proved to be more water consumptive, less resistant to secondary salinization, and more unstable than what they replaced. The major burden for reducing irrigation usage must rest on Uzbekistan as it has the majority of the irrigated area and irrigation withdrawals in the Aral Sea Basin. Turkmenistan, which accounts for a significant share of the irrigated area and withdrawals in the Amu Dar’ia basin, could also make substantial contributions to water savings. The remaining states that were part of the USSR (Tajikistan, Kazakhstan, and Kyrgyzstan) irrigate much smaller portions of the basin and withdraw considerably less water. Their possible contributions, although not insignificant, would be much smaller. However, Tajikistan and Kazakhstan (see Table 6.3) have specific water use rates in irrigation that are higher than the other states, so they could make a disproportionately large addition to savings, the former by technical improvement and the latter by significantly reducing production of rice, a very water-consumptive crop, along the lower reaches and in the delta of the Syr Dar’ia. Afghanistan and Iran withdraw very little from the basin; their possible contribution to water savings is nil. This may change in the future for Afghanistan as it could substantially increase its withdrawals from the Amu Dar’ia. Institutional Structures fo r Managing Transnational Water Resources How to improve irrigation to make more efficient use of basin water resources is not the only serious problem that confronts the Central Asian states. Equally serious are the issue of equitable sharing of water resources between the upper riparians (Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan) and the lower riparians (Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Turkmenistan), contention over how the main upstream dams on the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia should be operated (for hydropower production or for irrigation), and the interstate response to the Aral Sea crisis. The former Aral Sea Basin republics of the Soviet Union realized in late 1991, as independence approached, that they needed to establish institutional mechanisms to enhance cooperation in the management of interstate water resources.75 The first major step was the signing in February 1992 of an agreement on the joint management and protection of interstate water resources. The agreement created the Interstate Coordinating Water Commission (ICWC)76 for overseeing regulation, efficient use, and protection of interstate watercourses and bodies.

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The commission is composed of the heads of the main water management organizations in each republic or their designate (Water Resources Committee in Kazakhstan, Ministry of Agriculture and Water Management for Kyrgystan and Uzbekistan, Ministry of Reclamation and Water Management for Turkmenistan and Tajikistan). It meets several times each year to discuss and decide interstate water management policy issues. It also sets (and if necessary later adjusts) the hydrologic year (October to October) allocation of water among the republics and to the Aral Sea and its deltas based on forecasts of water availability made by the hydrological and meteorological agencies in each country. The allocation scheme, basically, was a continuation of the system codified in 1984 and 1987 under the Ministry of Water Management of the former USSR. Determination of operating regimes for the reservoirs along the interstate rivers was also placed on the ICWC. Inter-republic water management disputes are to be decided by the commission, with help from a neutral arbitrator, if needed. The ICWC consists of a Secretariat (in Hojent, Tajikistan), Scientific Information Center (in Tashkent, Uzbekistan), and the basin management authorities (BVOs) (Russian: Basseinovoe vodokhoziaistvennoe o b ’edinennoe) for the Syr Dar’ia (in Tashkent) and Amu Dar’ia (in Urgench, Uzbekistan). The BVOs were first established by the USSR in 1986.77 Since independence, they are the bodies charged with managing and monitoring the allocations made by the ICWC to member states. The ICWC makes annual withdrawal allocations based on estimates of water availability for the ensuing hydrologic year. Corrections may be made at the regular quarterly meetings or at specially convened sessions of this body. As was the case under the Soviets, the water-sharing scheme is heavily tilted toward irrigation and the interests of the downstream riparian states. Table 6.4 shows allocations for the 1996-1997 hydrologic year. The two leading irrigators, Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, were assigned 38 percent and 26 percent, respectively, of the total, with each to receive 36 percent of the flow of the Amu Dar’ia, and Uzbekistan to get an additional 42 percent of the Syr Dar’ia’s discharge. The ICWC allocated Kazakhstan 30 percent of withdrawals from the Syr Dar’ia.

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Country

Syr Dar’ia Basin

%

Amu Dar’ia Basin

%

Aral Sea Basin

%

Tajikistan

1.65

7.4

7.90

12.9

9.55

11.4

Kyrgyzstan Turkmenistan

0.18

0.8

0.15

0.2

0.33

0.4

0.00

0.0

22.00

35.9

22.00

26.3

Uzbekistan

9.46

42.1

22.00

35.9

31.46

37.5

Kazakhstan

6.72

29.9

0.00

0.0

6.72

8.0

Aral Sea region

4.43

19.7

9.30

15.2

13.73

16.4

Total

22.43

100.0

61.35

100.0

83.78

100.0

Source: Compiled from data in Scientific Information Center o f the Interstate Coordinating Water Management Commission o f Central A sia, Bulletin 14, p. 22 (in Russian).

The upstream-flow-generating states were given the residual. Tajikistan was allocated 11 percent: 7 percent of the withdrawals from the Syr Dar’ia and 13 percent from the Amu Dar’ia. Kyrgyzstan was only given 0.4 percent, representing less than 1 percent of the withdrawals from the Syr Dar’ia and 0.2 percent from the Amu Dar’ia. The ICWC allotted 16 percent of the withdrawals (in this case, flow) of the Syr Dar’ia and Amu Dar’ia to the Aral Sea region. In Soviet times, the Aral Sea region did not have a specific allocation. The allotted water is intended for both the deltas and the sea and much less water than might appear reaches the sea proper owing to major diversions into the delta for ecological purposes (e.g., support of deltaic lakes and reservoirs), water supply, and even irrigation.78 The low allocation for Kyrgyzstan from the Syr Dar’ia is puzzling. In an average flow year it is supposed to receive 4.90 km3 or about 13 percent.79 Thus, one would have expected Kyrgyzstan to receive around 3 km3 in the 1996-1997 hydrologic year (a below-average flow year for the Syr Dar’ia). An explanation may be that Kyrgyzstan withdraws some water from this river that is considered a “national” resource and is not included in ICWC allocations as the ICWC is only empowered to allocate river flow that is considered “interstate” in character.

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There are two caveats about the allocation data. First, an analysis of these by the European Union’s WARMAP Project for the period 1994/95-1996/97 indicates missing data and data inconsistencies with two other comparable data sets (those developed by the BVOs for the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia, and the data base developed independently by the European Union’s WARMIS database project).80 Part of the inconsistencies may result from changes in ICWC reporting practices from year to year. Second, the actual total withdrawals and withdrawals by each state may differ somewhat from the allocations in any given year. In the 1995-1996 (and probably 1996-1997) years, which were dry, for example, much less than the allocated share of water reached the Aral Sea region as upstream irrigation took more than its share. As might be expected, the upstream states, particularly Kyrgyzstan, have complained about the allocation scheme. Their mountain territories generate 75 percent of the flow in the basin of the Aral Sea, yet their allowed withdrawals are small compared with the share assigned to Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan. Furthermore, to serve irrigation, most of the flow must be accumulated in reservoirs on their territories and released during the growing season, restricting the ability of Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan to generate winter hydroelectricity. This is a particularly serious problem for the former country since it has faced chronic winter energy shortages in the 1990s, as deliveries of coal (from Kazakhstan) and gas (from Uzbekistan) have, at best, been irregular. During the Soviet era such deliveries were guaranteed to cover Kyrgyzstan’s opportunity costs in forgoing winter hydroelectric generation. The 1992 agreement has become acutely contentious among the five states. Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan, and especially Uzbekistan want to see the existing allocation schemes and operational regimes continued.81 Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan want considerably more of the flow allocated to them (so they can expand irrigation) and more freedom to generate winter hydropower. Kyrgyzstan over the past five years has repeatedly violated winter release limits (set by the ICWC) at the huge Toktogul reservoir on the Naryn, the chief tributary of the Syr Dar’ia. This action has reduced water available during the following summer season for downstream irrigation. It also has caused winter flooding in Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan, forcing emergency diversion of flow, which should go the Aral Sea, to Lake Amasay in the desert. Charges have also been leveled against Kyrgyzstan that it is not releasing the obligatory quantity of irrigation water from Toktogul in the summer.

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There are also allocation conflicts among the downstream states. Most contentious is the disagreement between Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan over the Kara-Kum Canal. Under construction since the mid-1950s, the almost 1,400km-long canal is allocated 13 km3 annually from the Amu Dar’ia.82 This facility irrigates almost 1 million ha in Turkmenistan and is the source of municipal water supply for the capital of Ashgabat. The Turkmenistan government considers the canal fundamental to national survival and is intent on lengthening it and irrigating even larger areas. On the other hand, the Uzbekistan government views the unlined Kara-Kum as a man-made river flowing through the desert that loses huge amounts of water to filtration. They also see the canal as one of the key factors contributing to the demise of the Aral Sea.83 The Uzbekstanis are adamantly opposed to further construction on it and increased water diversions to it. Owing to lack of maintenance, the canal is rapidly deteriorating, which further increases water losses from it. In March 1993, the presidents of the five republics signed an agreement to promote cooperation in solving the key problems related to the Aral Sea and surrounding region.84 It established the Interstate Council on the Problems of the Aral Sea Basin (ICAS) (Russian: Mezhgosudarstvennyi Sovet po problemam basseina Aral’skogo moria). A major purpose of the new organization was to facilitate assistance from the World Bank and other international donors.85 Composed of twenty-five members, five from each state, ICAS was given the duty to manage various Aral Sea Basin assistance programs. ICAS was to meet at irregular intervals (six meetings were held between July 1993 and February 1997), but day-to-day activities were to be handled by an Executive Council located in Tashkent.86 The existing ICWC was made a component of ICAS, and in January 1994 the Sustainable Development Commission (SDC), headquartered in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan, was added to the administrative structure of the organization. The presidents also created the International Fund for the Aral Sea (IFAS) [Russian: Mezhdunarodnyi Fond spaseniia Arala], composed of ten members, two from each state, with the responsibility to collect funds from each basin state (recommended contribution of 1 percent of national income) for financing of rehabilitation efforts. The fund’s headquarters were placed in Almaty, Kazakhstan, and President Nazarbaev of Kazakhstan was elected as the first head. The presidents made major changes in the ICAS and IFAS in February 1997. The most important step was abolishing ICAS and merging the functions

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of the two organizations into a restructured IF AS to reduce duplication of effort, simplify the administrative structure, overcome bureaucratic inertia that had developed, and revitalize improvement efforts in the Aral Sea Basin. The leadership of IFAS is to rotate in a two-year cycle among the Central Asian heads of state, with Islam Karimov, President of Uzbekistan, chosen to begin the cycle.87 Annual financial contributions to the fund were also revised downward to 0.3 percent for “richer” downstream Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan, and to 0.1 percent for “poorer” upstream Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan. International Donor Efforts to Promote Water Management Cooperation Since independence, international aid donors have played a major role in promoting cooperation in the management of the transnational water resources in the Aral Sea Basin.88 The World Bank (International Bank for Reconstruction and Development) was the first major player on the scene. In 1992 and 1993, the Bank formulated an Aral Sea Basin Assistance Program (ASBP) to be carried out in three phases over fifteen to twenty years and expected to cost around $250 million (as of 1996, the estimated cost had risen to $470 million).89 The main goals of the program are (1) rehabilitation and development of the Aral Sea disaster zone; (2) strategic planning and comprehensive management of the water resources of the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia; and (3) building of institutions for planning and implementing the above programs. The bank encouraged the basin states to create ICAS and IFAS and has worked with and through these organizations to realize the ASBP. Afghanistan was invited to join the ASBP but did not respond to the overture.90 The preparatory portion of the first phase was supposed to take eighteen months and be finished by the end of 1995.91 The bank declared these activities finished in mid-1997, twelve months behind schedule, even though parts of the planning process were still under way. Lack of experience working in the new (for the bank) social, political, and economic environment of Central Asia and laggard funding of the preparatory work (as of mid-1997 only $15.4 million of project financing was completed or under way) appear to be the chief reasons for the delay. The bank undertook a review of the ASBP in July 1996 in which donor and regional representatives participated.92 Recognizing the accomplishments and

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progress made, the review proposed a number of major changes. The basin states were advised to strengthen the role of regional institutions and depend less on donor influence, to increase their political and financial commitments to the regional bodies, to clarify the priorities between national and regional tasks, to focus more attention on quickly implementable activities, and to make clearer the roles of the different regional entities (ICAS [abolished in 1997], IF AS, ICWC, SDC, and BVOs). The basin states recommended to the bank that it concentrate more on financing of projects supportive of the ASBP, gradually reduce its technical assistance role, and speedily prepare the follow-up project to the first phase of the ASBP. The next phase in the World Bank’s Aral Sea Basin Program is the Water and Environmental Management Project.93 With a planned start date of August 1998, it is slated to run for four and a half years at a cost of $21.2 million. In line with the new emphasis on regional responsibility for the ASBP, the executive committee of the IF AS, with the bank playing a cooperative/advisory role, is managing the program. Most of the components of this plan are directly intended to improve the management of transnational water resources. Most important of these is water and salt management, which aims at the formulation of national and regional water and salt management strategies and agreements, and development of low-cost, local, on-farm water conservation measures. The purpose is to improve the efficiency of water use, deal with the increasingly serious problem of salinization of soils from improper irrigation practices, and reduce the amount of irrigation drainage water flowing back into rivers. A second program aims at the strengthening of existing interstate water sharing agreements. A third component entails a public awareness campaign to sensitize the public, water suppliers, and water users to the key issues and strategies of the ASBP for saving water and to effect behavioral change in water users. Dam and reservoir management constitutes a fourth piece of the project. This is intended to ensure the sustainability and safety of dam and reservoir infrastructure along the interstate rivers. The fifth undertaking is transboundary monitoring of water quality and quantity, which is a precondition to more effective and accepted interstate water management/sharing agreements. This is of great importance as the network of hydrologic and water quality observations stations established under the USSR is deteriorating at a rapid pace.94 Besides those of the World Bank, there are several other international efforts to improve management of interstate water resources in the Aral Sea

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Basin. The United States, through the USAID-funded Environmental Policy and Technology (EPT) project, which ran from 1993 to 1998, supported regional efforts to reach agreement on operation of the Toktogul dam and reservoir on the Syr Dar’ia.95 Located in Kyrgyzstan, this huge storage facility controls downstream water use in Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. Controversy over the appropriate operating regime (for hydropower, for irrigation, or somewhere between these two) had risen to the flash point between upstream Kyrgyzstan and downstream Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan. Working with the Interstate Council for Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, and Uzbekistan (ICKKU), the EPT Project helped the three countries reach a framework agreement that was signed in March 1998.96 A smaller-scale follow-up project sponsored by USAID is under way to help the ICKKU implement the agreement.97 The United Nations has been providing a variety of assistance to the Aral Sea Basin since 1990.98 The most ambitious UN efforts in recent years are proceeding under the direction of the United Nations Development Program (UNDP). One of UNDP’s major efforts is aimed at strengthening the regional organizations that have been established to deal with the Aral crisis (earlier ICAS and IFAS, now the reconstituted IFAS). The European Union initiated a major aid program for the Aral Sea Basin states in 1995 known as the Water Resources Management and Agricultural Production in the Central Asian Republics (WARMAP) Project.99 The objectives of the program were “to provide the administrative and technical framework within which the five republics of the Aral Sea Basin can develop policies, strategies, and development programs for utilization, allocation, and management of the water resources of the basin; and to assist at the regional level with the establishment of the institutional structure required to prepare and execute policies and strategies to give effect to the agreed framework on water allocation and management.”100 Phases 1 and 2 were completed by mid-1997 at a cost of around $6 million. A number of activities directly related to management of interstate water resources were completed over this period, including development of a Geographic Information System-based land and water database for the basin, providing help to the World Bank and ICAS (now IFAS) in their efforts to improve and legally codify the 1992 interstate water sharing agreement, sponsorship and funding of training seminars and workshops, and an attempt to gather detailed data on irrigated water use at the farm level through a Water Use

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and Farm Management Monitoring Survey (WUFMAS).101 A continuation or follow-up project to WARMAP began in early 1998 and will run for several more years. 102 Improvements Needed in the Management o f International Waters The five Central Asian republics of the former USSR, to their credit, have created regional institutions (IFAS, ICWC, and ICKKU) to deal with questions of basin-wide and transboundary concern, including the allocation of water among them from the international rivers, Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia, and the human and ecological problems connected with the desiccation of the Aral Sea. So far, the Central Asian states have approached these matters in a spirit of mutual cooperation and respect for national rights. Since the breakup of the Soviet Union, the international community has become deeply involved in assisting the basin states in their efforts to cooperate on water sharing and to overcome the most serious problems associated with the Aral Sea. Donor aid has focused on several key issues: (1) improving the human condition and ecological situation in the zone around the sea that has been most seriously afflicted; (2) raising the efficiency of water use in irrigated agriculture in the basin; (3) capacity building of the regional institutions created to deal with Aral Sea Basin issues to make them more effective and efficient in carrying out their duties; and (4) promoting the development of agreements on sharing of the waters of international rivers and operation of the Toktogul reservoir that comport with international legal standards and norms. In spite of the successes enumerated above, many critical issues await resolution. The regional organizations (IFAS, ICWC, and ICKKU) need to have their roles clarified. Responsibilities and functions of the three overlap in key areas of management and program implementation. This has led to confusion, disagreements, and costly duplication of effort that have slowed the introduction of improvement measures. A sincere effort should be made to include Afghanistan in negotiations about water allocations from the Amu Dar’ia as this country accounts for about 8 percent of that river’s flow. As indicated above, the Afghans were invited to join the ASBP, but did not respond to the overture. However, when peace and stability returns to this nation, further efforts should be made to include Afghanistan in the work of the basin water management organizations.

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The International Fund for the Aral Sea (IFAS) also needs to receive more support from the member countries in terms of financing, recognition of its interstate status, and supplying it with qualified personnel. Lack of adequate funding has been a serious hindrance to the work of this organization. On the other hand, the Aral Sea Basin states on a national basis have invested in water management and Aral Sea zone improvement efforts. The executive committee of the IFAS reports that Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan have together been spending around $650 million annually on socioeconomic and environmental stabilization efforts in the disaster zone around the sea.103 This figure is substantial, although likely exaggerated, particularly by Uzbekistan’s use of an artificially high exchange rate between the sum and the U.S. dollar. International donors need to implement several changes in their operations. Primary importance should be given to improving cooperation among the major players such as the World Bank, United Nations, United States, and European Union. Talk abounds of “working together” to minimize program duplication and costs as well as maximizing results. However, this author’s experience working in the donor community in Tashkent during 1996-1997 and summer 1998 suggests such rhetoric is more good intentions than reality.104 Given the large number of donors and the complexity of programs under way in the Aral Basin and the inevitable duplication of effort and conflicts that arises, it would be advisable to establish a high-level council of donors that would meet regularly (at least twice each year?) to discuss the activities of the different donors and to facilitate field-level coordination and cooperation. The laggard pace of donor program implementation also needs attention. Expensive feasibility and planning studies drag on and, in the eyes of many Central Asians, there are no tangible results. Certainly this is partially a result of the hindrances faced by the donor community in working within societies undergoing major economic, social, and political transition. But a real effort is needed to move more quickly from the feasibility study and design phase to the completion of projects that make a difference in the lives of the region’s people. The World Bank as a result of its July 1996 review has explicitly recognized this failing and is attempting to correct the problem in its new ASBP efforts.105 Another problem is that the donor community may, inadvertently, be developing an “international welfare mentality” among the aid recipients in the Aral Sea Basin. What this means is that frequently regional, national, and local institutions in Central Asia approach international donors seeking funding for

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what are worthwhile endeavors but should really be funded from within the region. Often, it is not a case of lack of money but of governmental choices about spending priorities (e.g., giving precedence to grandiose public buildings and monuments in the capital cities over new hospitals, clinics, and drinking water supply facilities in the Aral Sea disaster zone). This is helped along by a pervasive attitude that the Aral Sea situation is a “world problem” and that the international community has a moral and ethical obligation to help solve it. Although complaints are frequently heard in Central Asia that the international community is not doing enough, donors have provided substantial assistance. It is difficult to estimate the overall contributions because of lack of comprehensive data and double counting (the World Bank commonly includes in its figures funding of Aral Sea Basin efforts that are also counted by individual donors such as the United States). But in addition to other Aral Sea Basin efforts, the Bank alone has, or is planning through fiscal year 2000, sixteen loans and credits to Central Asian states totaling $605 million for improvement of land and water management. Other donors have given or plan to provide hundreds of millions more.

The Future The Aral Sea Basin states face many difficulties in the joint management of their transnational waters. The region is not inherently “short” on water resources as the flow of the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia is substantial. On an average annual basis there would appear to be sufficient water in the region (including groundwater) to meet current withdrawals. But average figures are deceptive and do not reflect the intra- and inter-year variability of these rivers’ discharge and the associated problem of storing flow during “surplus” flow seasons and years for use during times of flow deficit, when demand is greater than natural availability. When these factors are taken into consideration, resources are already severely strained, particularly in the cycles of low flow years. The key problem is irrigation, which accounts for more than 90 percent of withdrawals. The chief irrigating states are Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. All the states except Kazakhstan plan to expand their irrigated areas. For one state to increase irrigation necessitates that other states along these rivers reduce theirs or that large quantities of water are freed by major technological improvements

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in water use efficiency and/or implementation of switches from high- to lowwater-consuming crops. A comprehensive and thorough program to raise water use efficiency in irrigation could free substantial amounts of water, perhaps 36.5 km3, or over 33 percent of the 111 km3 withdrawn in 1995. This would require massive investments of at least $ 16 billion which, as explained earlier, is highly unlikely to be made in the near to mid-term future. Crop substitution is a much cheaper means to obtain sizable reductions in water use, but done on a large scale would necessitate considerable reduction in the hectarage devoted to cotton, the chief export crop for Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan and foreign-currency earner for the former. Adoption of governmental policies promoting irrigation water pricing, privatization of land, and giving rights of self-governance and responsibility for management of irrigation systems to farmer-irrigators is a very promising avenue for encouraging water conservation. A partial return to the use of small-scale irrigation systems that characterized parts of Central Asia in earlier times, coupled with the sensible employment of modem irrigation technology, could also contribute to efficiency and water savings. However, prospects for introduction of such changes among the key irrigating states of Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan appear dim at best. Inherent water management conflicts exist between the upstream states (Tajikistan, Kyrgyzstan, and Afghanistan) and the downstreamers (Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan). The former generate a large preponderance of basin flow (more than 80 percent) but use relatively little of this. The situation is reversed for the latter. Tajikistan, and particularly Kyrgyzstan, are intent on withdrawing significantly more of the water coming from their territory in order to expand irrigation. Such action is opposed by Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan as it reduces the water available for their national uses. The upstream states also want to operate the large hydroelectric stations located on their territory to maximize winter hydropower production, which is counter to the interests of downstream irrigating states that need maximum releases during the summer irrigation season. This has already led to sharp conflict between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan on the one hand, and Kyryzstan on the other. Serious differences also have developed among the downstreamers, especially between Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan over the Kara-Kum Canal. The situation is further exacerbated by the tendency of the basin states to overestimate their share of the Aral Sea Basin’s resources. When these are totaled, they come out

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significantly more than any reasonable estimate of usable basin-wide water 106 resources. Finally there is the problem of the Aral Sea. This water body continues to shrink, and the serious environmental and human problems in the surrounding “disaster zone” are not substantially abating. To provide sufficient inflow to stabilize the Large Sea in the south, let alone begin to raise its level, would require sizable cutbacks in irrigation (or a substantial effort to improve irrigation efficiency and implement crop substitution). None of these options is likely to be implemented anytime in the foreseeable future. The (former Soviet) basin states have formally agreed to provide more water for preserving what is left of the deltas of the two rivers and partially restoring the now separated northern Aral Sea, but attaining even these modest goals is proving difficult. Nevertheless improved management of the interstate waters in the Aral Sea Basin is far from hopeless. Since independence, the basin states have taken important steps to put in place regional institutions to promote basin-wide cooperation in coping with both the problem of water sharing and the Aral Sea. The international community through the major multilateral and bilateral aid organizations is providing material financial and technical assistance plus policy advice to help in these endeavors. However, progress is slow and uneven, and the critical problems remain formidable and largely unresolved. Looking to the future, the only rational avenue for the Aral Sea Basin states to follow is cooperation and compromise in managing and sharing their transnational water resources. This is not only necessary to avoid interstate conflict, perhaps even military confrontation, but to develop an integrated, basin-wide strategy to optimize water use efficiency and maximize efforts to restore and protect critical water-related ecosystems such as the Aral Sea and environs. Such a strategy would benefit all basin riparians. Uzbekistan, as the most populous, politically powerful, economically developed, geographically strategic, and heaviest-irrigating state in the basin is critical to successful interstate cooperative management of transnational waters. If this state focuses excessively on national self-interest in water management, as it has been wont to do in the past, regional efforts to effectively and peacefully manage trans­ national water resources will founder.

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Notes 1. Center for International Projects, The Modern State o f Nature, Population, and Economy o f the Aral Sea Basin: Diagnostic Study (Moscow: Center for International Projects, 1991), p. 4 (in Russian). 2. Basin areas calculated from World Bank Map IBRD 25944, May 1994, utilizing a polar planimeter, February 1999. 3. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program (Kazakhstan, Kyrgyz Republic, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, and Uzbekistan) (Water and Environmental Management Project, Washington, D.C., May 1998), p. 1. 4. Tashkent Institute of Engineers of Irrigation and Agricultural Mechanization and The Aral Sea International Committee, “The Mirzaev Report,” May 1998, demographic appendices. This report, named for the principal author, was translated from an earlier Russian-language report published in September 1996 under the translated title “Conceptual Strategy for Proper Development of the Water Ecology Relations in the Aral Sea Basin.” It grew out of a seminar of independent Central Asian experts devoted to finding new approaches to alleviating water management problems in the Aral Sea Basin. 5. World Bank, EC of ICAS, and ICWC, Developing a Regional Water Management Strategy: Issues and Work Plan (Aral Sea Basin Program Technical Series, Washington, D.C., April 1996), p. 14. 6. Terminal rivers are not tributary to a body of water (river, lake, or sea). They are common in arid regions, where they arise in humid mountainous zones and flow into deserts where evaporation rates are so high they lose all their water. 7. Philip P. Micklin, “The Water Management Crisis in Soviet Central Asia,” in The Carl Beck Papers in Russian and East European Studies, No. 905 (Pittsburgh: The Center for Russian and East European Studies, August 1991), p. 4; D. Mamatkanov, “Water resources of the mountain territory of the basin,” in Vestnik Arala, No. 1 (water resources), Spring 1996, pp. 5-7 (in Russian). 8. D. C. McKinney and S. Akmansoy, “What Are the Competing Water Needs and Uses in the Aral Sea Region?” Paper presented at Aral Sea Basin Workshop, sponsored by the SSRC, Tashkent, Uzbekistan, May 19-21, 1998; ICAS, Fundamental Provisions o f Water Management in the Aral Sea Basin: A Common Strategy o f Water Allocation, Rational Water Use, and Protection o f Water Resources, prepared with the assistance of the World Bank, October 1996 (no pagination), Chapter 6.

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9. Ibid. 10. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 6, Table 6.3. 11. Micklin, “The Water Management Crisis,” p. 99. 12. Mamatkanov, “Water resources of the mountain,” p. 5. 13. World Bank et al., Developing a Regional, p. 16. 14. Dukhovnyi, Reclamation and Water Management o f the Arid Zone (Tashkent: Mekhnat, 1993), p 56 (in Russian); ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 7, Tables 7.1 and 7.2. 15. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 6, Table 6.6. 16. Ibid., Chapter 6. 17. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 7, Tables 7.1 and 7.2. 18. Micklin, “The Water Management Crisis,” pp. 4-7. 19. Michael Collier, Robert H. Webb, and John C. Schimdt, Dams and Rivers: Primer on the Ecological Effects o f Dams, U.S. Geological Circular 1126 (Tucson: USGS, June 1996), 94 pages; Philip P. Micklin, “Man and the water cycle: challenges for the 21st century,” in Geojoumal No. 39 (July 1996), pp. 285-298. 20. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 6. The full water-storage volume of a reservoir is termed gross capacity, whereas that portion of it that can be drained and refilled is known as usable capacity. The difference is termed dead storage. 21. Dukhovnyi, Reclamation and Water, p. 260; WARMAP Project, Formu­ lation and Analysis o f Regional Strategies on Land and Water Management (July 1997), p. 8; A. N. Askochenskii, Irrigation and Watering in the USSR (Moscow: Kolos, 1967), p. 112 (in Russian); B. G. Shtepa, ed., Land Reclamation in the USSR (Moscow: Kolos, 1975), p. 227 (in Russian). 22. A 90 percent flow year is a probabilistic concept. It is a flow year which probability analysis of a long record of annual flows, at least thirty years, indicates is likely to be exceeded 90 percent of the time. The probability analyses used to create such probabilities are based on the fitting of a theoretical probability curve to the flow record or plotting of the actual flow record on probability paper. 23. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 7, Table 7.2. 24. V. N. Bortnik and S. P. Chistiaevaia, eds., Hydrometeorology and Hydro­ chemistry o f the Seas o f the USSR, Vol. 8, Aral Sea (Leningrad: Gidrometeoizdat, 1990), p. 38 (in Russian).

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25. Ibid., p. 36, Table 4.1; Philip P. Micklin, “The Aral Sea Problem,” in Civil Engineering, Proceedings o f the Institution o f Civil Engineers (August 1994), p. 115. 26. Micklin, The Water Management Crisis, pp. 42-54. In surface area, the Aral was exceeded by the Caspian Sea in the Soviet Union and Iran, Lake Victoria in Africa, and Lake Superior in the United States and Canada. 27. Micklin, “The Aral Sea Problem,” p. 116. 28. I. M. Zholdasova, I. P. Pavlovskaia, A. N. Urasbaev, E. Adenbaev, and S. K. Lubimova, “Biological Bases of Fishery Development in the Waterbodies of the Southern Aral Region,” in Ecological Research and Monitoring o f the Aral Sea Deltas, UNESCO Aral Sea Project 1992-1996, Final Scientific Reports (Paris: UNESCO, 1998), pp. 213-215; Micklin, The Water Management Crisis, pp. 49-50. 29. Micklin, The Water Management Crisis, pp. 50-52. 30. Micklin, “The Aral Sea Problem,” p. 116. 31. N. Novikova, “The Tugai of the Aral Sea Region is dying: Can it be restored?” in Russian Conservation News, No. 6 (February 1996), pp. 22-23. 32. Ibid. 33. M. Palvaniiazov, “The effect of dust storms on the habitats of some mammals of the coastal zone of the Aral Sea,” in Problemy osvoeniia pustyn \ No. 1 (1989), p. 56 (in Russian). 34. Ibid.; Philip P. Micklin, “The Aral Sea Problem,” p. 116. 35. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, pp. 3-5. 36. N. Novikova, Principles o f preserving the botanical diversity o f the deltaic plains o f the Turan, dissertation in the form of a scientific report to meet the requirements for a doctoral degree in geography (Moscow, 1997), p. 71 (in Russian). 37. Micklin, The Water Management Crisis, pp. 48-49; D. B. Oreshkin, “The Aral Catastrophe,” in Nauka o zemle, No. 2 (Moscow: Znaniye, 1990) (in Russian); N. F. Glazovskii, The Aral Crisis: Causative Factors and Means o f Solution (Moscow: Nauka, 1990), pp. 20-23 (in Russian). 38. Bortnik and Chistiaevaia, eds., Hydrometeorology and hydrochemistry, p. 27, Fig. 2.7. 39. Glazovskiy, The Aral Crisis, p. 22. 40. G.N. Chichasova, ed., Hydrometeorological Problems o f the Near Aral Region (Leningrad: Gidrometeoizdat, 1990), p. 215 (in Russian).

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41. I. M. Rubanov and N. M. Bogdanava, “Quantitative estimation of the salt deflation on the dried bottom of the Aral Sea,” in Problemy osvoeniia pustyn ’, No. 3 (1987), p. 14 (in Russian). The reason for the predicted decrease in exported dust and salt, in spite of a larger area of dried bottom, was an expected significant decrease in losses from “old” areas of the bottom where the loose material subject to transport would become largely depleted, carried by precipitation below the surface or formed into a hard, deflation-resistant crust. 42. M. Ye. Bel’gibayev, “Dust-salt meter - an instrument for entrapping dust and salt in air currents,” in Problemy osvoeniia pustyn’, No. 1 (1984), p. 74 (in Russian). 43. Palvaniiazov, “The effect of dust storms,” p. 56. 44. Ch. A. Abdirov, N. A. Agadzhanian, A. V. Vervikhvost, K. P. Primbetov, A. Ye. Severin, Yu. P. Brushkov, and L. G. Konstantinova, “Stress Reaction of healthy children in Nukus to the influence of negative ecological factors in the near Aral region,” in Vestnik Karakalpakskogo otdeliniia Akademii Nauk Respubliki Uzbekistana, No. 2 (1993), pp. 15-20 (in Russian); Pravda Vostoka (22 May 1987), p. 3. 45. Micklin, The Water Management Crisis, pp. 52-53; Glazovskii, The Aral Crisis, pp. 19-21. 46. Philip P. Micklin, “The Aral Crisis: Introduction to the Special Issue,” in Post-Soviet Geography, Vol. 33, No. 5 (May 1992), p. 276. 47. Ibid. 48. Withdrawals are a measure of the total water taken from sources (rivers and groundwater) for irrigation. Consumptive use is a measure of the water that is withdrawn that is lost to evaporation (from conveyance canals and fields) and transpired from or incorporated into crops. The difference between the two is termed return flow. Return flow includes filtration from canals, filtration from fields, and surface runoff from fields. Part of return flow ultimately reaches the river from which takes or adds to groundwater, while another portion runs off into desert hollows to form lakes (the water from these is lost to evaporation). 49. Hydrologic data collected by the author between 1984-1998 from a variety of sources, including the Gidroproekt (Hydro Planning) Institute in Moscow and Glavgidromet (Main Administration of Hydrometeorology) in Tashkent, and used to derive long-term time series flows for the Amu Dar’ia and Syr Dar’ia and water balances for the Aral Sea.

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50. Micklin, “The Aral Sea Problem,” pp. 120-121. 51. N. V. Aladin, and I. S. Plotnikov, “Concerning the question of the possible preservation and rehabilitation of the Small Aral Sea,” in Biological and Natural Science Problems o f the Aral Sea and Near Aral Region, Proceedings of the Zoological Institute, RAN, Vol. 262, pp. 3-16; WARMAP Project, Formulation & Analysis, pp. 66-67. 52. However, once the Large Sea falls several more meters, it may be possible to separate the deep western part from the shallow eastern by a dike, direct the flow of the Amu Dar’ia into the western part and, over time, freshen and ecologically restore it by allowing a controlled flow of saline water to the eastern portion. The eastern part, nevertheless, would rapidly shrink and salinize. 53. The Christian Science Monitor (5 February 1999), p. 7. 54. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, p. 10. 55. Conversation with Victor Dukhovnyi, director of the SIC, ICWC, Delft, Netherlands, 19 July 1999. 56. Dukhovnyi, Reclamation and Water, p. 56. 57. This figure may be high, as a 10 percent growth over five years, given the tight water situation in the basin, seems improbable. Growth from 1985-1990 was less than 4 percent. 58. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 6; V. Antonov, “Concerning the program of future development of irrigation in Uzbekistan,” in Vestnik Arala, No. 1 (Spring 1996), pp. 7-10. 59. Interview with Mr. Polad-Polad Zade, First Deputy Minister of Minvodstroi (Ministry of Water Management Construction), Moscow, 14 September 1989. 60. World Bank et al., Developing a Regional, pp. 24-25. 61. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 4, Table 4.1. 62. V. Dukhovnyi, “Save irrigation water!” in Gidrotekhnika i melioratsiia, No. 5 (1985), pp. 40-43. 63. Conversations and discussions with Mr. Onno Schapp, on-farm irrigation management specialist, WARMAP Project of the European Union’s TACIS Program, during the period October 1996-August 1997 when the author was working as director of a USAID project in Tashkent, Uzbekistan. 64. World Bank et al., Developing a Regional, p. 23. 65. Antonov, “Concerning the program of future,” p. 9.

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66. E. I. Pankova, I. P. Aidarov, I. A. Iamnova, A. F. Novikoa, and N. S. Blarovolin, Natural and Anthropogenic Salinization o f the Aral Sea Basin Soils: Geography, Genesis, Evolution (Moscow: Russian Academy of Agrocultural Sciences, 1996), pp. 85-87. 67. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 6. 68. Report given by G. N. Djalalov, Deputy Minister of Water Management for Uzbekistan, at the Working Meeting of Representatives of the Water-Energy Services of Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and Kyrgyzstan for Preparation of Recommendations for the Efficient Use of the Resources of the Naryn-Syr Dar’ia Cascade of Reservoirs over the Long-Term, Almaty, Kazakhstan, 1-2 October 1996. 69. World Bank et al., Developing a Regional, p. 25. 70. ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 10, Table 10.2. 71. Ibid., Chapter 10, Table 10.1. 72. The report from which these data are taken (footnote 70) states the drop in cotton was from 45 percent to 37 percent. Data in the 1990 Soviet statistical handbook indicate the 1990 percentage of cotton was 40 percent. Inconsistency of data among “authoritative” sources is a major problem. 73. Information acquired by the author during a one-year assignment as Resident Advisor on Water and Environmental Management Policy to the Government of Uzbekistan, under USAID’s Environmental Policy and Technology Project, September 1996-October 1997; Philip P. Micklin, “Development of SelfGoverning Irrigation Systems in Uzbekistan: Problems and Prospects,” draft final report on the training seminar held in Tashkent, Uzbekistan, 29-30 April 1997, prepared for the Central Asia Mission U.S. Agency for International Development, Almaty, Kazakhstan, under Contract No. CCN-0003-Q-14-3165-00 of the Environmental Policy and Technology Project, 25 May 1997; Philip P. Micklin, “Developing Water Pricing Systems for Uzbekistan: Key Policy Issues and Initial Steps,” draft final report on the training seminar held in Khodjikent, Uzbekistan, 28 July-1 August 1997, prepared for the Central Asia Mission U.S. Agency for International Development, Almaty, Kazakhstan, under Contract No. CCN-0003-Q14-3165-00 of the Environmental Policy and Technology Project, 11 August 1997. 74. K. Sh. Sirozhidinov, “About the real reasons for the drop in the level of the Aral Sea,” in Prohlemy osvoeniia pustyn ', No. 6 (1991), pp. 23-28. 75. ICWC, Central Asia 1992-1997, Tashkent, 1997, published by the Scientific Information Center (SIC) of ICWC, pp. 4-8.

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76. In Russian this is Mezhgosudarstvennaia koordinatsionnaia vodokhoziaistvennaia komissiia. 77. International Fund for Saving the Aral, Aral Sea basin program: the past and a look toward the future, Phase 1, Report 4 (work implementation), Tashkent, June 1997, p. 7 (in Russian). 78. WARMAP Project, Formulation and Analysis, p. 72. 79. T. Sarbaev, “Concerning future development of irrigation in Kyrgyzstan,” in Vestnik Arala, No. 1 (Spring 1996), p. 11 (in Russian). 80. WARMAP Project, Formulation & Analysis, pp. 72-84. 81. Information acquired by the author during a one-year assignment. 82. Tim Hannan and Sarah L. O’Hara, “Managing Turkmenistan’s Kara Kum Canal: Problems and Prospects,” in Post-Soviet Geography and Economics, Vol. 39, No. 4 (April 1998), pp. 225-235. 83. Micklin, The Water Management Crisis, p. 46. 84. Agreement on joint activities in addressing the Aral Sea and the zone around the sea crisis, improving the environment, and ensuring the social and economic development of the Aral Sea region, signed in Kzyl-Orda, Republic of Kazakhstan, 26 March 1993. 85. Philip P. Micklin, “International and Regional Responses to the Aral Crisis: An Overview of Efforts and Accomplishments,” in Post-Soviet Geography and Economics, Vol. 39, No. 7 (September 1998), pp. 406-409. 86. International Fund for Saving the Aral, Aral Sea basin program, pp. 4-11. 87. Ibid., pp. 41-42; World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, p. 9. 88. See Micklin, “International and Regional,” pp. 399-417, for a detailed treatment of international assistance efforts in the Aral Sea Basin. 89. Ibid., pp. 406^-09. 90. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, p. 9, footnote 16. 91. Ibid., p. 9. 92. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, pp. 8-11. 93. Ibid., pp. 19-34. 94. World Bank et al., Developing a Regional, p. 15. 95. Micklin, “International and Regional,” pp. 409-410. 96. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, p. 21; Environmental Policies and Institutions for Central Asia (EPIC) program, sponsored by USAID, “Information Summary,” 13 September 1999, 7 pages.

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97 .Ibid. 98. Micklin, “International and Regional,” pp. 410-411. 99. Ibid., p. 411. 100. European Commission, Water Resources Management and Agricultural Production in the Central Asian Republics: WARMAP Project, Phase 1: Project Preparation Reports, Executive Summary (Tashkent, September 1995), p. 1. 101. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, pp. 8-9. 102. Information acquired by the author during a two-month assignment as consultant to the National Sustainable Development Commission of Uzbekistan, May-July 1998. 103. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, p. 12. 104. Information acquired by the author during a one-year assignment; information acquired by the author during a two-month assignment. 105. World Bank, Aral Sea Basin Program, Tables 4, 5, 6. 106. World Bank et al., Developing a Regional, p. 15; ICAS, Fundamental Provisions, Chapter 6.

7

/Agricultural Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa Will D. Swearingen

Agriculture in Northwest Africa (Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia) has been intensifying for most of the present century. Since the mid-1980s, this process has accelerated significantly. Intensification has occurred in two key directions, horizontally and vertically. Horizontally, farmers have progressively expanded cultivation to lower-rainfall areas. In addition, they have expanded livestock raising to marginal areas that previously were little used. Vertically, farmers have intensified agriculture through irrigation development, reduction of fallow, increases in use of fertilizer and other chemical inputs, and intensification of stock raising. In the near term, these intensification processes have fueled economic development and enabled the region’s countries to feed their growing populations. However, Northwest African agriculture is now approaching its environmental limits. Specifically, it is approaching the limits of available land and water resources. This has serious implications for Northwest Africa’s future — for the region’s agricultural sustainability, environment, economy, and politics. A profile of Northwest Africa’s environment and agriculture is provided. This is followed by a historical overview of agricultural development in the region, focusing on long-term intensification processes. Current trends of agricultural intensification are examined next. The major theme is that these trends are on a collision course with the region’s environmental constraints. This theme is developed through an analysis of the environmental, socioeconomic, and political implications of current intensification trends.

Northwest Africa’s Environment and Agriculture There are three major environmental zones in Northwest Africa: the coastal plains and plateaus to the north, the Saharan desert to the south, and the mountain highlands in between (see Figure 7.1). The desert zone is by far the

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largest. Roughly 70 percent of the combined territory of the three countries consists of desert. The northern lowlands account for only 10 percent of the region’s territory. Mountain highlands account for around 20 percent.1 However, the proportions of these major environmental zones vary greatly from country to country. Coastal plains and plateaus comprise around a fourth of Tunisia's national territory and a fifth of Morocco's, but less than 5 percent of Algeria's. Mountainous highlands occupy roughly a third of Morocco's national territory, but only about a tenth of Tunisia’s and Algeria’s. Desert areas cover nearly 90 percent of Algeria’s national territory, two-thirds of Tunisia’s, but only half of Morocco’s (including the Western Sahara). The region is clearly distinguished from the rest of North Africa by its extensive mountains and relatively well-watered coastal lowlands. Mountain highlands extend, from west to east, for over 2,000 kilometers (km). Elevations exceed 4,000 meters (m) in Morocco’s High Atlas to the west, gradually tapering down to a maximum of around 1,500 m in Tunisia's Dorsal to the east. Overall, these mountains form a substantial barrier up to 400 km in width. This highland barrier gamers precipitation from storms arriving from the Atlantic and Mediterranean during the autumn-spring cool season. Rainfall is sufficient for rain-fed agriculture throughout much of the coastal lowlands. Higher rainfall levels in the mountains (or snowfall on higher peaks) are the source of a significant number of permanent streams. However, Northwest Africa's mountains also cast a long rain shadow. Desert abmptly begins beyond the mountains. Most of Northwest Africa’s arable land is concentrated in the northern plains and plateaus. These lowlands have relatively higher rainfall, better soils, level terrain, and access to irrigation water. Arable land is relatively extensive by Middle Eastern/North African standards. Morocco has around 9.7 million hectares (ha) of arable and permanently cropped land, Algeria around 8 million ha, and Tunisia nearly 5 million ha (see Table 7.1). Unfortunately, precipitation levels in Northwest Africa’s coastal lowlands are not generally sufficient to ensure a prosperous, drought-resistant rain-fed agriculture. Most of Northwest Africa's arable lowlands receive only 300 to 500 mm (approximately 12 to 20 inches) of rainfall in an average year. These rainfall levels are only marginally adequate for rain-fed agriculture. In the southern lowlands, where rainfall is less than 300 mm per year, irrigation is essential.

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa

Figure 7.1. Landforms in Northwest Africa

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Northwest Africa's arable lowlands are also subject to high rainfall variability and chronic drought. “Normal rainfall” is an abstraction —an average of extreme rainfall conditions, too much or too little. Both the timing of rainfall and the total accumulations fluctuate dramatically from year to year. Drought is the region’s most common natural hazard. During the present century, for example, drought in Morocco has occurred, on average, about one year out of every three.2 Due to Northwest Africa's relatively arid character, its thin soils, and the often intense nature of rainfall, this region is naturally vulnerable to land degradation. Since the colonial takeover of Northwest Africa, beginning in Algeria in 1830, modem economic development has been focused on the northern coastal lowlands. Today, most of Northwest Africa's population, urban areas, industry, and tourist developments are concentrated in the environmentally more-favored coastal lowlands. Most agricultural intensification has also taken place in these lowlands. They contain most of Northwest Africa’s modem agriculture and perennially irrigated areas. Table 7.1 presents a profile of agriculture in the three Northwest African countries. It shows the areas covered respectively by arable and permanently cropped land (including fallow land), cereal crops, permanent crops, and irrigated crops. This table reveals at least three interesting things about agriculture in the region. First, cereals, which represent the staple foods for the region’s human population as well as supplemental feed for livestock, are the predominant crops. Wheat and barley are the primary cereal crops, but this category also includes maize, rice, oats, sorghum, rye, and millet. In 1996, cereal crops accounted for around 49 percent of Algeria’s arable area, 68 percent of Morocco’s, and 69 percent of Tunisia’s. Second, permanent crops represent an important element of agricultural production in all three countries. These permanent crops include olives (which represent around 80 percent of the permanently cropped area in Tunisia, half in Morocco, and a third in Algeria), dates, and a broad range of subtropical fruits and nuts, including wine grapes and most of the other permanent crops grown in California. Third, the irrigated areas in each country account for a relatively small amount of the arable total — some 12 percent in Morocco and Tunisia and only 6 percent in Algeria. However, these areas are critically important in producing crops for export.

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa

Table 7.1. Agriculture in Northwest Africa, 1996 (in hectares)

Permanent Crops

Irrigated

3,663,000

519,000

450,000

9,661,000

5,992,000

855,000

1,093,000

4,878,000

1,971,000

2,036,000

350,000

Total Arable and Permanently Cropped Land

Cereal Crops

Algeria

8,040,000

Morocco Tunisia

Land

Source: FAOSTAT D atabase (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations), URL: http://apps.fao.org./default.htm. Note: The irrigation figures include both modem and traditional irrigation. They do not include spate (opportunistic) irrigation following periodic floods, which accounts roughly for an additional 110,000 ha in Algeria, 165,000 ha in Morocco, and 30,000 ha in Tunisia.

Historical Overview of Agricultural Intensification Since agriculture began in Northwest Africa several millennia ago, intensification has occurred sporadically in time and space. For example, irrigation had already been developed in many of the region’s desert oases and mountain valleys prior to the Roman period. However, agricultural intensification as a general trend is a relatively modem phenomenon in Northwest Africa. Its origins are linked to agricultural development activities initiated by European colonization in the region. Prior to the colonial period, agriculture in most of Northwest Africa was extensive in nature, rather than intensive. In most of the region’s arable expanses, agriculture consisted of an extensive agropastoral system of rain-fed cereal cultivation combined with semi-nomadic animal husbandry. Most land was communally owned. Fallowing (periodically letting cropland lie idle) was

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widely practiced. Fallowing both replenished soil moisture and helped to restore soil fertility. Low population pressure gave the extensive coastal plains and inland plateaus a relatively underutilized appearance. Land Intensification under European Colonization In all three countries, colonization introduced vast changes in agriculture and agricultural landscapes. Algeria became a French colony in 1830, Tunisia a French protectorate in 1881, and Morocco a French and Spanish protectorate in 1912. All three countries experienced large-scale colonization. Colonization initiated processes of intensification that have continued up to the present. Colonization dislodged native farmers from much of the best land in the region. Europeans acquired roughly 30 percent of Algeria's arable land, or 2.7 million ha;3 nearly 20 percent of Tunisia's land, or 800,000 ha;4 and 13 percent of Morocco's land, or 1 million ha.5 This land concentration was paralleled by land concentration by native landowners, who profited from new land registration procedures and, often, their alliances with Europeans. In Algeria, some 25,000 native Algerians acquired nearly 2.8 million ha, somewhat over 30 percent of the country's arable land.6 In Tunisia, 7,200 Tunisians acquired 630,000 ha — 15 percent.7 And in Morocco, 7,500 Moroccan landowners acquired 1.6 million ha, or 21 percent of the arable total.8 Table 7.2 provides a summary of land concentration during the colonial period in Northwest Africa. Table 7.2. Land Concentration under European Colonization in Northwest Africa

Algeria Morocco Tunisia

Colonial

Native Large

Total Large

Landowners (in hectares)

Landowners (in hectares)

Landholdings (in hectares)

2.7 million

2.8 million

5.5 million

60%

1 million

1.6 million

2.6 million

34%

0.8 million

0.6 million

1.4 million

35%

Sources: See footnotes in paragraph above.

% of Total Agricultural Land

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa Land expropriation and concentration during the colonial period had two important consequences related to agricultural intensification.9 First, as land was expropriated, native Northwest African farmers became concentrated on a diminished amount of land. Land expropriation reduced their ability to let part of their land lie fallow. With reduced landholdings, farmers had to put a larger percentage of their land into cultivation to produce sufficient food for their household needs. The result was more intensive land use. Second, large numbers of farmers were dislodged to marginal land that was not sufficiently attractive for colonization. These marginal areas were commonly characterized by poor soils, unfavorable slope, and/or deficient rainfall. Previously, most of this land had been used only for livestock grazing. Cultivation represented much more intensive land use. Colonial agricultural policy also fostered agricultural intensification. Between roughly 1915 and 1928, French colonial authorities in all three countries had a mandate to substantially increase cereal production for France. Various subsidies and bonuses were offered to encourage cereal cultivation, specifically cultivation by mechanized means. High market prices were also offered, particularly for wheat. Agricultural mechanization and high crop prices enabled marginal areas to be profitably cultivated during higher-than-normal rainfall periods. Although Europeans and native large landowners were the primary beneficiaries of these subsidies and bonuses, attractive crop prices also enticed native Northwest African farmers into the cash economy and encouraged them to significantly expand their cereal acreage. The colonial cereal policy was successful in expanding the cultivated area. In Morocco, for example, the area planted in cereals grew from 1.9 million ha in 1918 to nearly 3 million ha in 1929, an increase of roughly 60 percent.10 Cereal acreage in neighboring Algeria and Tunisia also expanded dramatically. These increases reflected both vertical and horizontal intensification. Part of the new cereal acreage came from the reduction of fallow —i.e., more intensive land use. Much of the rest came from the extension of cultivation to lower-rainfall areas, which had previously been used exclusively as rangeland. Both of these processes increased the potential for drought and land degradation. The primary purpose of fallowing in semi-arid regions like Northwest Africa is to allow soil moisture to accumulate.11 Approximately 20 to 25 percent of the precipitation falling during the fallow year is retained in the soil. Thus, fallowing stockpiles precipitation and substantially increases the

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water supply available for subsequent crop use. In low-rainfall areas, this soil moisture component is often the critical difference between a successful harvest and crop failure. With the reduction of fallowing, this buffer was lost. Vulnerability to drought increased. Intensification of land use also increased the potential for land degradation, as did the extension of cultivation to lowerrainfall areas, which were typically characterized by thin, sandy soils that were prone to rapid wind and water erosion. While these lower-rainfall areas could sustain crops during higher-than-normal rainfall years, they were subject to both drought and accelerated erosion following the return of normal or lower-thannormal rainfall conditions. Intensification in dryland agriculture was matched by more intensive land use within colonial irrigation zones during the early years of colonization. Following the agricultural crisis of the 1930s, which was linked to the world economic crisis and magnified by extended drought, irrigation development became a priority. All three colonial countries initiated major dam construction programs to develop Northwest Africa’s irrigation potential for colonial agriculture. Irrigation development focused primarily on production of export crops, mainly fruits and market vegetables. However, a secondary motive behind colonial irrigation development was concern over Northwest Africa’s burgeoning native population. Food Security Crisis following Independence Following independence (in 1956 for Morocco and Tunisia and 1962 for Algeria), all three countries recovered ownership of colonial landholdings. In Algeria, this process was abrupt; in Tunisia and particularly Morocco, the land recovery process was much more cautious and gradual. All three countries subsequently engaged in land reform. However, much of the former colonial land passed into the hands of more prosperous or powerful native landowners. In addition, most of the large landholdings acquired by native landowners during the colonial period were never subject to land reform. Because the politically powerful native large landowners had the same economic interests as the previous colonial farmers, all three countries continued to develop irrigation for high-value, export-oriented agriculture, which largely accounted for their national agricultural development policies.

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa While the three countries were developing irrigation for export agriculture, they were neglecting their rain-fed agricultural sectors, which produced wheat and barley and other staple food crops. Indeed, for at least two decades following independence, the three Northwest African countries seriously neglected domestic food production. Until the 1950s, all three countries were basically self-sufficient in production of these staple cereal crops. Between the 1950s and the 1980s, however, due to population growth and stagnation in production, all three countries gradually lost this self-sufficiency. Indeed, by the 1980s, all three were experiencing a severe food security crisis.12 The key symptoms of this crisis were declining per capita cereal production; ever­ growing levels of cereal imports; heavy foreign indebtedness related to these imports; and massive food subsidy programs. By the early 1980s, Algeria was importing approximately two-thirds of its cereal supply, Tunisia was importing nearly half, and Morocco was importing over a third. The import bill for these staple foods was very high. In the early 1980s, for example, Algeria’s total agricultural imports bill averaged $2.2 billion per year.13 In each country, a large percentage of the population was experiencing hunger and malnutrition, particularly during drought years. The political implications of this crisis became clear by 1981, when Morocco experienced a tumultuous food-related riot. Similar food-related riots erupted in Tunisia in 1983-1984, again in Morocco in 1984, and in Algeria in 1988.

Contemporary Agricultural Intensification Since the early-to-mid 1980s, all three countries have been undertaking major agricultural policy reforms.14 The overriding objective has been to increase food production for the national markets, with a major focus on cereal crops. Specific reforms have included loosening of state controls over crop prices to stimulate additional production; promotion of agricultural mechanization; specific efforts in Algeria to develop so-called “new lands”; accelerated programs to maximize irrigation development; and initiatives to increase livestock production. These reforms have met with limited success. While they have increased overall food production, the resulting gains have been largely outstripped by population growth. In addition, these reforms have played a key role in intensifying

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agriculture up to — possibly even beyond — the limits of Northwest Africa’s resource base. These reforms will be described and analyzed.

Changes in Pricing Policy Following independence, the three Northwest African countries maintained tight control over producer prices of basic food crops. Prices for these crops, cereals in particular, were held artificially low. Indeed, for much of this period, crop prices were only one-fourth to one-half of what they would have been without government intervention.15 As in many other developing countries, the rationale was that low crop prices could enable these governments to provide food inexpensively to their urban populations. This would help keep wages low, thereby assisting industrialization and other urban development initiatives. Additionally, it would help prevent social unrest among the growing ranks of the urban poor. Unfortunately, low crop prices acted as a major disincentive. To counteract stagnant production, the governments gradually raised fixed producer prices for cereals and other basic food crops beginning in the late 1970s. In Algeria and Tunisia, prices approached world market levels by the mid-1980s. These price increases were likely a significant factor behind increased cereal production in the two countries. In Morocco, the government boosted producer prices of barley and wheat to approximately twice world market levels. As will be seen shortly, the stimulus effect of this action has been remarkable. Morocco’s high producer prices have been controversial for several reasons: (1) These high prices have been costly to the government. Ironically, during drought years, when domestic production is substantially reduced, the government saves money by importing more of the country’s food supply at lower world market levels. (2) These high prices have almost exclusively benefited a small landowning elite —those with surplus grain to sell. Fewer than 5 percent of Morocco’s cereal farmers are net sellers of grain. Fifteen percent are essentially self-sufficient, and the remaining 80 percent are net purchasers of grain.16 (3) Because the government passes on part of the cost of high producer prices to consumers, these consumers — virtually all of Morocco’s urban populations and four-fifths of the rural population — pay to subsidize the large grain growers. (4) High crop prices have stimulated a major expansion of cereal

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa cultivation to marginal areas, resulting in unsustainable land use and environmental deterioration. Promotion o f Agricultural Mechanization All three governments have promoted agricultural mechanization through subsidies since the early 1980s. The success of this effort is reflected in dramatic increases in the use of agricultural machinery in all three countries (see Table 7.3). For example, in Algeria, during the ten-year period from 1982-1984 to 1992-1994, the number of tractors and harvesters increased by 78 and 92 percent respectively. In Morocco, the respective increases were 34 and 13 percent, and in Tunisia they were 15 and 19 percent. The overall levels of mechanization are relatively high. In Algeria, during the 1992-1994 period, there were around 96,000 tractors and 10,000 harvesters in use. In Morocco, the respective figures were 42,000 tractors and 4,500 harvesters; in Tunisia, 30,000 tractors and 3,100 harvesters. Government efforts to promote mechanization have facilitated the expansion of cereal cultivation to rangeland areas. Since the early 1980s, the tractor and disk plow have converted large stretches of rangeland to cereal acreage in all three countries. Some of these new lands normally receive as little as 200 mm (approximately 8 inches) of annual rainfall. Their poor soils can sustain cultivation for a few years, particularly during higher-than-normal rainfall periods. However, the return of normal or lower-than-normal rainfall levels ultimately forces their abandonment. Desertification quickly advances in the abandoned areas. In effect, farmers are destroying the grazing potential of these lands through clearing the natural vegetation, unsustainably “mining” their fragile soils, and leaving them exposed to wind and water erosion. “New Lands ” Program in Algeria In Algeria, cultivation of marginal lands has actually become official policy.17 In 1983, Algeria's government passed legislation that established an ambitious homesteading program. The overriding purpose of this program has been to encourage Algerian citizens to maximize the country’s agricultural potential through

development

of previously

uncultivated

public

domain

land.

Homesteaders have been required to pay a token sum of one dinar. In exchange,

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they have been given an allotment in one of the designated areas. They have been required to develop this land for agriculture within a five-year period. At the end of this “proving up” period, they have been granted unrestricted title, and are free to sell or use their land as they choose. Table 7.3. Increases in Agricultural Mechanization in Northwest Africa Tractors

Harvesters

Average Number in Use, 1992-94 95,562

% Change since 1982-84 78

Average Number in Use, 1992-94 9,786

% Change since 1982-84 92

Morocco

42,000

34

4,500

13

Tunisia

30,158

15

3,070

19

Algeria

Source: World Resources 1998-99 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 286.

The goal has been to put approximately 800,000 ha of new land into production. About half of this land is in the Saharan zone where subsurface water is available for irrigation. However, the other half, some 400,000 ha, involves dryland allotments in the country's high plateau region. Virtually all new "cropland" in this region is low-rainfall steppe land suitable only for stock raising. The homesteading program, however, is only part of Algeria's current "new lands" scheme. In 1984, the Algerian government initiated a plan that envisions putting 2 million new ha of land into production. Two-fifths of this land is to come from the homesteading program. The other three-fifths, or 1.2 million ha, is to come from reduction of fallow in currently cultivated rain-fed areas. In short, the Algerian initiative involves both horizontal and vertical intensification. Unfortunately, the results of Algeria’s “new lands” scheme have not been encouraging. Large areas claimed under the homesteading program have already been abandoned. Stripped of their natural vegetation, these areas

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa have since been attacked by wind and water erosion and are becoming barren wastelands. Maximizing Irrigation Development In addition to striving to expand cereal production in their dryland areas, all three countries have been attempting to increase cereal production through irrigation development. They have not been neglecting production of high-value irrigated crops, much of which are produced for export. Indeed, the newly irrigated areas are devoted to high-value crops such as market vegetables (tomatoes, onions, lettuce, etc.), fruits, wine grapes, fodder crops, leguminous crops (lentils, fava beans, chickpeas, etc.), dates, sugarcane, sugar beets, and olives. However, all three countries have been attempting to address declining per capita cereal production through irrigation. The irrigated area in all three countries has steadily increased, as has cereal production through irrigated means. As Table 7.4 demonstrates, there has been a steady increase in the irrigated area in both Algeria and Tunisia. The increase in Morocco appears less impressive. However, Morocco began to heavily invest in modem irrigation development before the other two countries. By the early 1970s, it already had put around 400,000 ha in modem perennial irrigation. (Another 410,000 ha in the early 1970s consisted of traditional irrigation schemes, many of which were centuries old.) The figures in Table 7.4 only partially reflect the major emphasis that has been placed on large-scale irrigation development in all three countries since the mid-1980s. All three countries are aggressively engaged in dam and irrigation canal construction programs. The irrigated areas in all three countries will be expanding rapidly over the next decade and will approach the limits of the sustainable potentially irrigable area (see Table 7.4). For example, in Morocco, the National Irrigation Program expects to increase the area under perennial irrigation by 30 percent within a decade, and in Tunisia, government planners expect to put into perennial irrigation all of the potentially irrigable land by the year 2010.18

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Will D. Swearingen Table 7.4. Increases in the Perennial Irrigation Area in Northwest Africa (in hectares)

1972

1984

1996

Sustainable Perennial Irrigable Area

Algeria

130,000

188,000

450,000

510,000

Morocco

811,000

1,073,000

1,093,000

1,488,000

Tunisia

170,000

270,000

350,000

402,000

Sources: FAOSTAT Database (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations), online version, http://apps.fao.org/default.htm; FAO, Irrigation in the Near East Region in Figures; FAO Hypermedia Collections on Desertification (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations), online version http://193.43.36.7/LIBRARY/Desert/DOCS/372135/37213500.htm. Note: These figures do not include spate irrigation, which accounts for an additional 110,000 ha in Algeria, 165,000 ha in Morocco, and 30,000 ha in Tunisia.

Irrigation development has had a significant impact on cereal production in the three countries, particularly in Morocco. Morocco’s cereal areas now account for approximately 38 percent of Morocco’s total perennially irrigated area (see Table 7.4). In the other two countries, the percentage is less, and can be estimated as perhaps 20 percent in Algeria and 15 percent in Tunisia. Although in some cases, the irrigated lands have replaced lands where cereals were grown by rain-fed means, this has been offset by much higher yields where cereals are grown with irrigation. Cereal yields with irrigation that are double or even triple those in rain-fed areas are common. Irrigation development in Northwest Africa has not been without significant sociopolitical and economic problems. These include the following: 1) Irrigation development in the three Northwest African countries has been undertaken largely at the expense of the respective governments, and has

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa primarily benefited relatively small numbers of wealthy landowners and client classes of land reform beneficiaries. 2) Water prices charged by the respective governments (which are often not even collected) are far below the real costs. For example, in Morocco, the government currently charges less than 10 percent of the actual long-term costs of providing irrigation water to the agricultural sector.19 3) Heavily subsidized irrigation water charges have promoted production of water-intensive crops — such as alfalfa, sugarcane, and rice — which have relatively low value per unit of water use. 4) Water losses from irrigation-distribution networks are high. In Tunisia, for example, the combined losses from irrigation and urban distribution networks have been estimated at 700 million m3 per year —roughly a quarter of all of the water used by the country in a year.20 5) Siltation of dam reservoirs, owing to excessive deforestation and soil erosion in associated watersheds, is becoming a serious problem. For example, the accumulated capacity lost to siltation in Morocco is estimated at 800 million m3, which is around 7 percent of total capacity. The annual loss is estimated at 50 million m3.21 More significant than any of these individual problems, irrigation development is beginning to exhaust the region’s available water resources. Irrigation accounts for around 92 percent of water use in Morocco, 89 percent in Tunisia, and 60 percent in Algeria.22 The Moroccan and Tunisian percentages are among the highest in the world. North Africa, in general, is one of the most water-scarce regions in the world. Hydrologists commonly consider countries with less than 1,000 m3 of fresh water per person per year to have a chronic shortage of water.23 Unfortunately, all three North African countries now fall below this critical threshold. According to projections of the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) of the United Nations, in the year 2000, Algeria will have only some 576 m3 per person, Tunisia only 445 m3, and Morocco 943 m3.24 Yet the region’s population is still rapidly growing. In addition, all three sectors of the economy — urban, industrial, and agricultural — are experiencing rapid increases in demand. In Morocco, for example, the annual growth in demand for water is around 4 percent.25 Where will all this water come from? The stage seems to be set for serious political conflict over water. This political conflict will pit urban residents and industry against the agricultural sector.

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Impending water shortages will not be experienced equally because of natural disparities in the distribution of water resources. As water shortages develop in certain regions — for example, in the Rabat-Sale metropolitan area — governments will be forced to invest in water transfer systems to import water from remaining surplus areas. This will be expensive. Public investments in the water sector in Morocco already account for over 25 percent of the government’s investment budget. World Bank analysts expect this figure to increase to 60 percent by the year 2020, reflecting the escalating costs associated with interbasin transfers and the exploitation of increasingly marginal water resources.26 Initiatives to Increase Livestock Production The governments in the region have also attempted to increase livestock production as a way to improve food security in their respective countries. Table 7.5 shows the buildup in the sheep herds in the respective countries since the early 1980s, which ranges from a low of 21 percent in Morocco to a high of 30 percent in Tunisia. These increases are on top of levels that were probably already excessive in many areas. In Tunisia, for example, stocking rates in 1981 were already estimated by one study to be three to eight times greater than the optimal level.27 There has been a similar buildup of goat herds in Algeria and Tunisia (but not Morocco) during this period. Table 7.5. Increases in Sheep in Northwest Africa 1980-82

1996-98

Average

Average

Algeria

13,740,000

17,023,000

+24%

Morocco

14,113,000

16,204,000

+21%

Tunisia

4,935,000

6,431,000

+30%

Net Change

Source: FAOSTAT D atabase (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations), online version http://apps.fao.org/default.htm.

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa Government attempts to increase livestock numbers have involved both subsidies and price interventions. In general, government policies have had two key effects: (1) In the higher-rainfall regions, government subsidies for barley, other feed crops, irrigation, and fertilizer have encouraged the intensification of livestock production (mainly of sheep and cattle) and the integration of this production with crop production. This has led to a buildup of herd sizes and an extension of feed crop cultivation to marginal rangeland areas — usually mechanized cultivation. (2) In the lower-rainfall areas, government provision of subsidized feed grains has prevented the usual dramatic declines in herd size during drought years. This well-intentioned effort has contributed to the buildup of herd sizes and their maintenance at levels well beyond range carrying capacity. In both cases, the effect on the environment has been dramatic. The conversion of marginal rangeland to feed grain production has entailed significant environmental problems. In Tunisia, for example, an estimated 500.000 ha of land in semi-arid and hilly areas have been brought into production over the past two decades. Over half of the rangeland in the southern part of the country is now considered to be moderately to severely degraded. And permanent loss of land to desertification is estimated to average around 8.000 ha per year.27

Results of Reforms and Analysis Because many of these agricultural reforms in Northwest Africa were intended to expand the area cultivated in cereals, it is appropriate to examine cereal cultivation trends. Unfortunately, these trends are difficult to identify because of weather-related fluctuations in agricultural performance from year to year. These fluctuations are due to several factors. For example, farmers using animal-drawn plows aren’t able to put their land into cultivation until rainfall has first softened the earth. This means that during drought years, much of the land is not able to be put into cultivation. Or, farmers with access to mechanized plowing may decide, on the basis of early signs of drought, not to put all of their land into production. On the other hand, during higher-than-normal rainfall

Will D. Swearingen

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years, fanners are both able and willing to maximize the cultivated area. In terms of agricultural trends, comparing a single year with another year is relatively meaningless. Even multiyear averages can be misleading, because the years included may not be representative. Nonetheless, it is useful to attempt to identify trends in agricultural performance over time. Table 7.6 compares the area cultivated in the three Northwest African countries during the six-year period 1979-1984 with that during the more recent six-year period 1993-1998. This table essentially compares cereal cultivation in the three Northwest African countries before reforms to that after reforms were initiated. The differences in performance between the respective countries are striking. Table 7.6. Increases in Cereal Area in Northwest Africa (hectares cultivated annually) 1979-84 Average

1993-98 Average

Net Change

Algeria

2,729,000

2,383,000

-13%

Morocco

4,438,000

5,307,000

+20%

Tunisia

1,421,000

1,212,000

-15%

Sources: FAO World Crop and Livestock Statistics, 1948-1985 (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations, 1987); FAOSTAT D atabase (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations), online version http://apps.fao.org/default..

This table reveals that only in Morocco was there a significant increase in the total area cultivated in cereals (mainly wheat and barley). In Morocco, the total area cultivated in cereals increased by about a fifth over this roughly fifteen-year period. In Algeria and Tunisia, in contrast, there were actually significant decreases in the areas cultivated in cereals. In Algeria, the decrease over this period was roughly 13 percent; in Tunisia, it was roughly 15 percent. It must be noted, however, that these average figures mask substantial fluctuations in the cultivated area from year to year as a result of different weather conditions. For example, in Algeria, during the most recent six-year period, the

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa area cultivated in cereals varied from a low of 1.1 million ha to a high of 3.7 million ha. In Morocco, the range was from 4.9 to 6 million ha; and in Tunisia, it was from 0.6 to 2 million ha. The increase in the cereal area in Morocco of approximately 900,000 ha — roughly 20 percent — has resulted from two different types of agricultural intensification: (1) the reduction of fallow; and (2) the extension of cereal cultivation to marginal rangeland. A history of agricultural production in Morocco reveals that, already by the early 1940s, cereal cultivation in Morocco had reached the 4.4 million ha figure that still prevailed during the early 1980s. In short, virtually all viable cropland was already in production a half century ago. However, encouraged by extremely high crop prices since the mid-1980s, Moroccan farmers have dramatically reduced the acreage left in fallow. Because continuously cropped areas are not allowed to accumulate soil moisture, as they do when fallowed, the reduction of fallowing has effectively deducted an input of water from the cropping system and substantially increased the vulnerability to drought. Besides reducing fallow since the mid-1980s, Moroccan farmers have also substantially expanded the area of cereal crops in marginal lowrainfall areas. These marginal new lands are not only prone to desertification and wind erosion, they are also highly vulnerable to drought. Drought is an endemic natural hazard in Northwest Africa. However, the region's drought hazard (viewed as a socioeconomic rather than purely a meteorological phenomenon) has actually been increasing.29 Increases in the drought hazard are directly related to the fact that an increasingly high percentage of the region’s cropland is now located in low-rainfall areas. Owing to policies implemented during the 1980s, which encouraged mechanization and expansion of cultivation, the proportion of cropland in drought-prone areas is now at a record level. In Morocco, for example, at least 51 percent of the cereal cultivation in Morocco is now located in drought-prone areas — those receiving less than 400 mm (approximately 16 inches) of precipitation a year.30 The proportion is probably even higher in the other two countries. This record level of drought-prone cropland creates dramatic fluctuations in agricultural performance from year to year. For example, cereal production in Morocco ranged from a disastrous harvest of only 1.8 million tons in 1995 to an exceptionally bountiful harvest of 10 million tons in 1996.31 While higher crop prices help explain the increases in Morocco’s cultivated area, how can the decreases in the cultivated areas in Algeria and Tunisia be

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Will D. Swearingen

explained? Actually, these decreases continue a long-term trend in both countries. Despite more recent attempts to expand their cereal-producing areas, both Algeria and Tunisia have been losing ground for the past several decades. For example, cereal hectarage in Algeria during the 1954-1960 period averaged 3.3 million ha per year. Thus, there has actually been a decrease in cereal hectarage of around 28 percent over the past four decades. In Tunisia, the reduction has been even more striking. Cereal hectarage during the 1954-1960 period averaged around 2.1 million ha. The decrease since then amounts to roughly 42 percent.32 The explanation in both countries is not that former cereal lands have been converted to other crop production. Rather, these reductions are due to urbanization and, more important, to unsustainable agricultural land use practices that have been causing environmental deterioration. Soil erosion and desertification have been progressively advancing in both countries, causing substantial amounts of cropland to be abandoned or used only for stock raising. These reductions in the cultivated areas in Algeria and Tunisia indicate that the limits of arable land resources may have already been reached. Indeed, they suggest that there has actually been a permanent reduction in the agrarian resource base. The efforts of these two countries to intensify rain-fed agriculture have been a losing effort - indeed, they have seemingly been counterproductive. It is also revealing to compare overall cereal production in the three Northwest African countries before reforms were initiated to that after these reforms. Table 7.7 compares total cereal production in the three Northwest African countries for the six-year period 1979-1984 with that during the 1986-1992 and 1993-1998 periods. Table 7.7 shows that there was a substantial increase in cereal production in all three countries following the policy reforms. This increase varied from a low of 23 percent in Algeria to a high of 52 percent in Morocco. These increases reflect the various policy reforms and demonstrate that these reforms were generally successful in expanding total cereal production in the respective countries. It is significant, however, that following initial gains in the 1986— 1992 period, cereal production in all three countries again declined. While this may be partly a weather-related phenomenon, it does suggest that a new ceiling has been reached and that possibly environmental deterioration related to intensified land use is beginning to affect agricultural performance.

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa

20

Table 7.7. Cereal Production Trends in Northwest Africa (in metric tons) 1979-84 Average

1986-92 Average

1993-98 Average

Net Change

Algeria

1,740,000

2,223,000

2,147,000

+23%

Morocco

3,831,000

6,270,000

5,843,000

+52%

Tunisia

1,124,000

2,199,000

1,602,000

+43%

Sources: FAO World Crop and Livestock Statistics, 1948-1985 (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations, 1987); FAOSTAT Database (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations), online version http://apps.fao.org/default.htm.

However, increases in total production are less important to food security than increases in per capita production, which take into account population growth. Table 7.8 reveals cereal production trends on a per capita basis, expressed in kilograms/person, during this same period. Table 7.8. Per Capita Cereal Production in Northwest Africa (in kilograms per person) 1979-84 Average

1993-98 Average

Net Change

Algeria

90

76

-16%

Morocco

193

220

+14%

Tunisia

170

178

+5%

Sources: FAO Quarterly Bulletin o f Statistics (diverse issues); FAOSTAT Database (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization o f the United Nations), online version http://apps.fao.org/default.htm.

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Will D. Swearingen

This table shows that growth in per capita cereal production was modest or even negative in the three Northwest African countries. Morocco’s increase was a modest 14 percent, Tunisia’s increase was only 5 percent, and Algeria’s per capita cereal production actually declined by 16 percent. The difference between the previous increases in total cereal production and these modest or poor results is entirely due to population growth. Population growth has been one of the primary forces behind intensified use of land and water resources in Northwest Africa. As in most of the developing world, the rate of population growth in Northwest Africa during the present century has been without historical precedent. Until the twentieth century, the region's total population remained below 12 million inhabitants.33 Now, at century’s end, the region’s population is nearly six times larger, with an estimated 70 million people.34 Population pressure is clearly one of the key underlying causes of environmental deterioration in Northwest Africa.35 The capacities of the respective natural resource bases to support additional population, in a sustainable manner, are becoming increasingly strained.

Conclusion To summarize, the following key trends have been identified: 1) Cereal cultivation has been expanding to marginal lower-rainfall areas, leading to environmental degradation and increasing vulnerability to drought. 2) The percentage of cropland left in fallow has been progressively reduced, contributing to a gradual deterioration in agricultural productivity and increasing vulnerability to drought. 3) Livestock numbers have grown well beyond the range carrying capacity, and stock raising has been expanding to marginal areas that previously were little used. The result has been overgrazing of rangeland resources and land degradation processes such as soil erosion and desertification. 4) Irrigation development is leading to impending water shortages, as the region approaches the limits of its economically mobilizable water resources. Signs that these agricultural intensification processes are reaching the limits of the region’s land resources include reductions in the cultivated acreage in Algeria and Tunisia — despite government efforts to expand this acreage;

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa declines in total cereal production in all three countries between the 1986-1992 and 1993-1998 periods; and apparent increases in the frequency of drought. In conclusion, agricultural intensification in Northwest Africa has accelerated significantly since the mid-1980s, when major policy changes were established in all three countries. Although these three countries have achieved some short-term economic gains, current intensification processes are now on a collision course with the region’s environmental constraints. Northwest Africa is approaching or exceeding the limits of its available land and water resources, which has serious implications for the region’s future.

1. Will D. Swearingen and Abdellatif Bencherifa, eds., The North African Environment at Risk (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1996), pp. 3-7. 2. Will D. Swearingen, Moroccan Mirages: Agrarian Dreams and Deceptions, 1912-1986 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1987); Will D. Swearingen, “Drought Hazard in Morocco,” in Geographical Review, Vol. 82, No. 4, pp. 401412. 3. Karen Pfeifer, Agrarian Reform under State Capitalism in Algeria (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1985). 4. Hafedh Sethom, “L’Action des Pouvoirs Publics sur les Paysages Agraires et l’Economie Rurale dans la Tunisie Independante,” in Etats, Territoires et Terroirs au Maghreb, eds. P. R. Baduel et al. (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1985), pp. 98-113. 5. Swearingen, Moroccan Mirages, pp. 143-144. 6. Pfeifer, Agrarian Reform, pp. 98-103. 7. Sethom, “L’Action des Pouvoirs Publics,” pp. 102-103. 8. Swearingen, Moroccan Mirages, pp. 144-145. 9. Will D. Swearingen, “Northwest Africa,” in Drought Follows the Plow, ed. M. H. Glantz (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), pp. 117-133; Will D. Swearingen, “Is Drought Increasing in Northwest Africa?: A Historical Analysis,” in The North African Environment, pp. 17-34. 10. Rene Hoffherr, LEconomie Marocaine (Paris: Recueil Sirey, 1932). 11. World Meteorological Organization, Drought and Agriculture, Technical Note No. 138 (Geneva: WMO, 1975).

208

Will D. Swearingen

12. Will D. Swearingen, “Government Agricultural Policies and the Growing Food Security Crisis,” in State and Society in Algeria, eds. John P. Entelis and Phillip C. Naylor (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1992), pp. 117-149; Will D. Swearingen, “Agricultural Reform in Northwest Africa: Economic Necessities and Environmental Dilemmas,” in North Africa: Development and Reform in a Global Economy, ed. Dirk Vandewalle (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996), pp. 67-92. 13. FAO Trade Yearbook 1985 (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 1985). 14. Swearingen, “Agricultural Reform in Northwest Africa,” pp. 73-92. 15. Kevin Cleaver, The Agricultural Development Experience o f Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia: A Comparison o f Strategies for Growth, Staff Working Paper 552 (Washington, DC: World Bank, 1982). 16. John Schamper, “Policy Dialogue Agenda: Agricultural Pricing and Trade,” Unpublished briefing paper for USAID/Morocco, 1994. 17. Swearingen, “Government Agricultural Policies”; Swearingen, “Agri­ cultural Reform in Northwest Africa.” 18. AQUASTAT (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the U.N.), http://www.fao.org/waicent/FaoInfo/Agricult/AGL/AGLW/AQUASTAT/profil.htm.

19. Ian Goldin and David Roland-Host, “Economic Policies for Sustainable Resource Use in Morocco,” in The Greening o f Economic Policy Reform, eds. Wilfrido Cruz, Mohan Munasinghe, and Jeremy Warford (Washington, DC: World Bank), p. 58. 20. Mohamed Matoussi, “Sources of Strain and Alternatives for Relief in the Most Stressed Water Systems of North Africa,” in Water Management in Africa and the Middle East: Challenges and Opportunities, eds. E. Rached, E. Rathgeber, and D. Brooks (Ottawa: International Development Research Center), p. 87. 2\. AQUASTAT. 22. FAO, Irrigation in the Near East Region in Figures, FAO Hypermedia Collections on Desertification (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations), online version http://193.43.36.7/LlBRARY/Desert/DOCS /372135/37213500.htm. 23. Matoussi, “Sources of Strain,” p. 90. 24. FAO, State o f Food and Agriculture 1993 (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations). 25. Goldin and Roland-Host, “Economic Policies,” p. 57.

Development and Environmental Constraints in Northwest Africa

26. Ibid., p. 58. 27. Zeinab Partow and Stephen Mink, “Tunisia: Livestock Policies and Environmental Impacts during Economic Adjustment,” in The Greening o f Economic Policy Reform, p. 170. 28. Ibid., p. 169. 29. Swearingen, “Drought Hazard”; Swearingen, “Northwest Africa”; Swearingen, “Is Drought Increasing?” 30. “USAID 1986, Morocco: Country Development Strategy Statement (FYS 1987-1991). Annex C: The Agricultural Sector in Morocco: A Description,” Unpublished report, February (Washington, DC: U.S. Agency for International Development). 31. FAOSTATDatabase. 32. Swearingen, “Agricultural Reform,” p. 88. 33. Rene Escallier, “Population et Urbanisation,” in Le Maghreb: Hommes et Espaces, ed. Jean-Fran9ois Troin (Paris: Armand Colin, 1985), pp. 119-174; Rene Escallier, “Demographie et Migrations,” in LEtat du Maghreb, eds. Camille and Yves Lacoste (Tours: La Decouverte, 1991), pp. 79-97. 34. World Resources 1998-99 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), p. 244. 35. Swearingen and Bencherifa, The North African Environment at Risk.

8 / Agricultural Development or Sustainable Agriculture: The Case o f the Middle East Michael E. Bonine

Agriculture in the Middle East is an important economic sector and is critical for providing much of the food consumed by the inhabitants of the states of the region. Despite increasing urbanization, substantial numbers of people still depend upon the cultivation of crops for their livelihoods. Most of the Middle East, however, is climatically arid and semi-arid, and these conditions create considerable environmental limitations and problems for agriculture. Sufficient water and its management become paramount issues. Irrigation often is needed, and conflict over water between and within countries is common. The physical environment, however, may be only one of the difficulties when considering the broader topic of agricultural development. National governmental policies and goals influence or attempt to control the agricultural sector, as well as provide the institutional and financial framework for the implementation of agricultural planning and production. State incentives and restrictions impact what is grown and harvested. Major irrigation and water delivery systems, provision of loans and credit, building of roads for marketing of crops, and many other infrastructure supports must be provided by a central government. Yet, even the best of intentions and government policies confront a most difficult demographic reality. Population increase in the Middle East is one of the most rapid in the world. Increasing irrigation or mechanization to intensify and/or expand areas under cultivation may indeed add to the total quantity of production. Yet, while attempting to provide their own people with sufficient food (or even a percentage of it), the nations of the Middle East continue to lose ground to the relentless growth of their populations. Rising incomes and standards of living also result in greater per capita food demands. Another relevant theme for the Middle East is whether or not the agriculture which has developed is sustainable. Particularly in certain countries it is questionable whether or not the agricultural development is viable for the long term. The depletion of aquifers, dependence on risky rainfall or irrigation, frequent droughts, and continual expansion of cultivated areas in a moisture-deficit region create major problems for sustaining agricultural production.

Agricultural Development or Sustainable Agriculture

211

This paper examines issues of agricultural development in Southwest Asia and North Africa (called the Middle East for simplification). Although generalizations are made about the region, several countries of the Middle East are examined in more detail, including Iran, Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and Egypt. The paper focuses specifically on national policies and goals for developing agriculture, and how those goals and resulting projects may contrast with agricultural sustainability. Food production, indeed, is increasing in the region, but many programs may not be sustainable in the future. In conclusion the paper presents the principal challenges for agriculture in the Middle East in the twenty-first century.

Agriculture in the Middle East: Some Environmental Limitations Drylands or arid lands have a deficit of moisture measured on an annual basis, and the Middle East constitutes one of the largest arid regions in the world. The larger the moisture deficit, the greater the aridity. Aridity can be measured by an index of precipitation versus the amount of (potential) moisture loss from evaporation and transpiration from plants (called potential evapotranspiration), calculated by the formula P/PET. Using such an aridity index, UNESCO has devised a classification system of world arid zones or regions as follows: hyperarid (P/PET = < 0.05), arid (P/PET = 0.05-0.20), semiarid (P/PET = 0.20-0.50), dry subhumid (P/PET = 0.50< 0.65), and humid (P/PET > 0.65).1 Most of North Africa and Southwest Asia is classified as some type of arid environment (Figure 8.1). North Africa and the Arabian Peninsula are principally hyperarid, the largest such extremely dry region in the world. The Sahara and the Rub al-Khali deserts comprise much of this area, receiving only some tens of millimeters (mm) of rainfall annually, or no rain in some years, and are largely uninhabited. The next category, arid zones, may receive from 80-350 mm of moisture in winter rainfall areas (as in the Mediterranean), and begin to have some human occupation, including pastoral nomadic economies. The northern and southern margins of the hyperarid Sahara Desert merge into these arid zones, while much of the northern Arabian Peninsula, Iran, and Central Asia are also climatically arid zones (Figure 8.1).

212

Michael E. Bonine

Hyperarid

m< Arid

;| Semiarid M Dry Subhumid M H Humid 200

Figure 8.1. Arid Zones in North Africa and the Middle East

0

200 400 600 Miles

Agricultural Development or Sustainable Agriculture

213

The semiarid zones, however, are the principal location of human habitation in the Middle East. With precipitation from 200 to 700 mm annually in winter rainfall areas, this is the major agricultural zone for the region. Morocco, northern Algeria and Tunisia, the Levant (Eastern Mediterranean), Turkey, and northern Iran are some of these areas (Figure 8.1), often classified as a Mediterranean Climate (winter rainfall, dry summers). Highlands or mountains are also significant for these zones, particularly for moisture-laden westerly winds being forced up and condensing over such systems as the Atlas Mountains, Lebanon Mountains, highlands of Israel and the Palestinian Authority, and the Zagros Mountains of western Iran. While the western slopes receive considerable winter rainfall, descending and warming air on the eastern sides are much drier, this rain shadow resulting in arid and even hyperarid zones. The dry subhumid zone and the even wetter humid zone also have considerable population, but they comprise smaller areas in the Middle East and sometimes represent less inhabitable mountainous regions as well. Parts of northwest Africa, northwest Iran, Lebanon, and particularly Turkey comprise these major wetter areas. Rainfed or dryland farming can be practiced in the dry subhumid and humid zones as well as in some other highland areas in the Middle East where greater precipitation occurs than in the surrounding, lower elevations. These lands comprise some of the principal agricultural regions of the Middle East. A key element for agriculture in dry climates is the variability of the annual precipitation. Generally the drier the climate, the more variable the conditions can be from year to year; annual averages of precipitation are less and less reliable as general climatic conditions are more arid. While interannual rainfall variability is less than 25 percent for dry subhumid zones and 25-50 percent for semiarid zones, it can be 50-100 percent in arid zones and even less reliable in hyperarid zones. The increase in variability of drier climates is a concept that many engineers and planners either ignore or minimize - to the peril of the viability of many agricultural projects. Averages often can be meaningless in a dryland climate. Droughts can impact drylands drastically, especially if cultivation is attempting to rely upon rainfall and snow either for crops or the water supply for irrigation. Related to dryland climates are soil-related problems. Arid soils tend to be shallow and coarse textured and have poorly developed horizons. Low moisture content limits biological activity, which in turn restricts the amount of organic material that can enrich the soil. High summer temperatures increase the rapid oxidation of the organic material. The infrequent but heavy rainstorm can remove

214

Michael E. Bonine

much of the loose soil. In lowland, basin areas, heavy impermeable clays can develop, as well as salt crusts. Alluvial floodplains often are the most fertile areas for cultivation.2 Whatever its source, water availability is the principal physical constraint for agriculture in the Middle East. And where there cannot be rainfed or dryland farming (or even where that is too risky), irrigation must take place. Irrigated farmlands, in fact, provide areas for more intensive agriculture, and so production levels per unit of land are much higher than in the rainfed regions. Most major agricultural development schemes are concerned with creating or expanding irrigated areas. The majority of the irrigation systems are rather small-scale systems, similar to most of the world's irrigated cropland (where about 85 percent rely on small-scale, hand-built, gravity-flow canal systems, managed by local groups of farmers).3 However, there are also larger, state-supported irrigation and cultivation schemes, although the success of these often has been questionable, as will be discussed in the case studies below.

Agricultural Patterns in the Middle East Most of the land in the Middle East is not arable. All states have less than one-third of their land cultivated (with Turkey's 35 percent being the only state slightly over that percentage). Table 8.1 shows that in 1996 for the entire region, only 7.6 percent of the area is arable or in permanent crops. Six states have at least one-fifth of their land arable, and many of the more arid states, as in the Arabian Peninsula, have only a small percentage of all their land cultivated. Turkey dominates in total area in agriculture, with 26.9 million hectares (ha) of arable land and permanent crops. Iran is a solid second place, with 19.4 million ha, followed by Sudan's estimated 13 million ha of agricultural land. Permanent crops are those that do not need to be replanted with each harvest, including fruit and nut trees and vines. Sizeable percentages of many countries are permanent crops, where date palms, olive trees, or citrus fruit trees may be particularly prominent. For instance, over half of the (minuscule) arable lands in Bahrain, Oman, and the United Arab Emirates is in permanent crops (mostly date palms), while over 40 percent is in permanent crops in Tunisia and Lebanon (mostly olives and citrus fruit trees). Turkey and Iran have sizeable areas of permanent crops, although Tunisia also has over 2 million ha of these arable lands.

21 .2 4.6

8054

4

19400

5780

437

410

63

44630

237600

15536

65209

69

162200

43832

2062

8893

17 8 2

1 02 3

21246

1100

Sudan

Tu nis ia

A f g h a n is ta n

Iran

Iraq

Israel

Jordan

K u w a it

L eb an o n

Oman

Qatar

5.5

13000

28 .3 35.0 0.9 2 .9 7 .6

5196

26946

75

15 4 8

113038

18378

76963

8360

52797

Syria

T urkey

UAL

Y em en

300

10146

108

40

2472

710

130

3

47

128

—

90

86

280

1650

2

144

2036

80

855

470

13

485 29281

7.0 9.0

72

4200

1127

5 3 .3

9.2

13.7

1480

18.8 3.4

62

74.6

5 88

-

40.8

75

19 9

3525

7265

5

2800

380

1946

1258

22.0

19.7

4.8

8.5

50.0

1.8

41.7

0.6

8 .9

14.2

560 3266

2 8 .7

4

28.0

81.3

25.9

3 1 .3

96.0

15.6

21.7

38.6

399.7

14.8

2.6

62.8

14.7

18.9

0 .5

2 .4

1.8

100.0

98.4

4.4

5.8

20.6

62.4

0 .6

23.6

9.1

27.3

26.7

5. 3

62.7

18.3

45.5

61.0

3 7 .4

1 2 5. 0

34.8

7. 8

15 .0

13.0

22.2

1 0 0 .0

7.0

arable area

Source: Production Yearbook. 1997, vol. 51, United Nations, I'AO Population Data Sheet. 1996. Population Reference Bureau

1490322

1.8

T otal

1.5

16

3830

214969

0. 3

0.3 3 0 .7

5

314

13.2

12.0

5.8

12.4

31 .4

1.2 21.6

2115

9661

Sa ud i Ara bia

Bahrain

4878

175954

Libya

M orocco

14.3

6. 5

519 466

( 1 0 0 0 ha)

3.4

99545

3.3

8040

3266

238174

Eg yp t

A ra b le

( 1 0 0 0 ha)

A s per c en t o f

( m il li o n )

A re a

P o p u la t io n P e rc en t a g e

A re a

Area ( 1 0 0 0 ha)

total area

Irrigated A rea

A re a ( 1 0 0 0 ha)

Pe rm an en t cr op s

A s pe rcent o f

A ra b le

T o t a l Land

A lg er ia

C ountry

Table 8.1. Middle East Agricultural Land Use, 1996

0.283

0.105

0.029

0.429

0.353

0.203

0.032

0.026

0.079

0.003

0.093

0.075

0 .2 8 1

0 .3 1 1

0.0 0 7

0 .3 4 1

0.536

0.476

0.362

0.399

0.052

0.280

( h ec t a re s)

per p er s on

A ra b le land

P er so ns per

3.5

9 .6

3 4 .7

2.3

2.8

4 .9

31 .3

38.1

12.7

360.0

10.7

13.3

3 .6

3.2

1 50 .0

2 .9

1.9

2.1

2.8

2.5

19.2

3. 6

ha o f arable land

Agricultural Development or Sustainable Agriculture

216

Michael E. Bonine

The major agricultural regions and patterns of the Middle East are only partly determined by the climatic zones and physical characteristics of the land. It is true that the major areas of dryland farming (rainfed agriculture) are in the semiarid or the wetter dry subhumid and humid zones. These include most of Turkey, western and northern Iran, highland Yemen and northern, highland Oman, northwestern Syria, Lebanon, upland Israel/ Palestinian Authority, northern Morocco, Algeria, and Tunisia, and central to southern Sudan. But extensive agriculture also occurs in the drier zones. Yet, for agriculture to occur in these drier zones, and for more reliable cultivation in most of the semiarid zones, there has to be irrigation. One-fourth of all arable land in the Middle East, in fact, is irrigated (Table 8.1). The percentages range from the small Gulf states, which have almost 100 percent irrigation, to Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, which have less than 15 percent irrigation. Iraq has 61 percent of its arable land irrigated, comprising a considerable 3.5 million ha. Iran dominates with 7.3 million ha of irrigated land (and being slightly over a third of Iran’s total arable land), while Turkey's 4.2 million ha places it in second place (but representing only 15.6 percent of all of Turkey's arable land). Egypt, however, indicates the great significance of irrigation for this extremely arid country; all 3.3 million ha of arable land are irrigated. One point to stress, as mentioned above, is that irrigating cropland usually is much more productive than rainfed or dryland farming for the same unit of land. Yields are higher, sometimes with double or even triple cropping in one year (as in parts of Egypt, using the Nile). The production from irrigated areas in Iran or Jordan, for instance, is considerably higher per hectare than for the rainfed areas. Rainfed agriculture can be much more risky than irrigation from year to year, although some types of irrigation also can be affected considerably by low rainfall and especially drought conditions. Several major rivers, mainly the Nile, Euphrates, and Tigris, provide considerable water for irrigation, and hence cultivation and human habitation. Millions of Sudanese, Egyptians, Syrians, and Iraqis live along - and use and irrigate from - one of these rivers. Smaller rivers are also used for irrigation, particularly in Morocco, Iran, Turkey, and the Levant. Besides utilizing precipitation directly or the surface waters from rivers (or lakes) for irrigation, groundwater is widespread and is critical for agriculture and human habitation in such areas as the Arabian Peninsula, the central plateau of Iran, and much of North Africa. Often this water is fossil or Pleistocene water, which has been deposited in earlier, wetter periods. The Nubian sandstone aquifer in Libya, Egypt, and Sudan is an excellent example. Needless to say, a major problem and

Agricultural Development or Sustainable Agriculture

217

concern is the fact that fossil water is not being replaced as it is being mined. (It is also true, however, that aquifers, which are the result of basically current climatic conditions, are being depleted much more rapidly than the replenishment rate.) In some regions the qanat system has been developed to utilize groundwater. Found particularly in Iran, but spread from Morocco to western China, these near­ horizontal channels tap the water table at a distant, upslope location and bring the water by gravity to the location of agricultural fields and the village.4 Historically they have enabled agriculture to be developed in areas that otherwise would be largely uninhabited (such as in central Iran). Modem deep wells have dramatically changed the dynamics of qanat use, with many of these systems having gone dry due to dropping water tables.5 Intermittent streams and rivers are a further source of water for irrigation. Using small catchment areas from brief rainfall periods, these dry riverbeds or wadis may flow for only a few days or weeks in any given year. Small-scale, local irrigation systems utilize this water. The Tihama coastal area of Yemen, using the flows and floods from the summer rains in the highlands, is a good example of this type of system. Grains are the most significant crop in the Middle East. Wheat and barley are grown in about 60 percent of all arable land, with wheat being the more desirable crop because of greater yields and consumer preferences for wheat products. Barley, however, is more drought and salt tolerant, and hence can be grown in conditions where wheat either cannot be grown or is (or should be) too risky to grow. Both wheat and barley, being classic Mediterranean crops, are planted in the late fall or winter to take advantage of the winter rains and are harvested in the late spring or even early summer. Maize (com) and sorghum are other significant grains, the latter being particularly important in Yemen. Summer crops include various melons and vegetable crops. These crops are usually irrigated because of the dry summers of the Mediterranean climate. (Permanent) tree and fruit crops are also representative of this climate type, with citrus fruit and olives being prominent. In some warmer areas, such as southern Iraq and southern Iran, dates are important. Cash crops, such as cotton, vegetables, citrus fruits, dates, and even wheat, specifically for export and foreign exchange, have become important in parts of the Middle East. These tend to be country specific and not necessarily part of a general pattern for the region. Livestock and poultry are also important parts of the agricultural sector in the

218

Michael E. Bonine

Middle East. Although the declining nomadic groups still have considerable animals and are an important source of animal products in some regions, most animals are part of the rural/village economy. Many families have some milk cows, and may pasture a few goats and sheep - most for local consumption. Chickens are part of every village. On the other hand, large-scale operations are becoming more common, especially for dairy farms, feedlots for cattle, and extensive poultry farms.

Population Growth: The Demographic Limitation The population growth of the Middle East is one of the most rapid in the world, matched or exceeded only by sub-Saharan Africa. In mid-year 1998 the total population of the region was about 420 million, with percent annual increases often considerably high. Of the 23 states listed in Table 8.2, many have percent annual increases in the 2 and 3 percent ranges. The projected population (by the Population Reference Bureau) for the year 2025 is 683.4 million, representing over 60 percent growth in just over a quarter century. Individual countries, such as Saudi Arabia, Yemen, and Libya, are projected to more than double in this time period. The three largest states, Egypt, Turkey, and Iran, will approach 100 million persons by 2025.6 Needless to say, it will be most difficult to continue to expand cultivated areas - or to continue intensification of agriculture - to keep up with the rapid increase of the population in the Middle East. Certainly some new agricultural and irrigation projects will continue to be built, but not at a rate to keep up with trying to feed their own populations. Once again, a major limitation becomes insufficient water. Most significant for understanding the role of agriculture in the Middle East are the per capita statistics of arable land and cultivation (Table 8.1). In 1996 in the region a total of 113 million ha was arable land (cultivated crops, which included 10 million ha of permanent crops, such as fruit and nut trees), representing only 7.6 percent of the total land area in the Middle East. The per capita arable area (hectares per person) varies considerably, from extremely small numbers in some of the more arid states, such as Bahrain (.007 ha per person) and Kuwait (.003 ha), to countries which approach one-half hectare per person, notably Tunisia (.536 ha), Sudan (.476 ha), and Turkey (.429 ha). As a comparison, the world's average in 1996 was .261 ha, and Europe's average was somewhat less (.186 ha). Besides the Gulf states, others that have high ratios of population to the number of hectares

Agricultural Development or Sustainable Agriculture

219

include Egypt, Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, and Yemen. Table 8.2. Middle East Population Characteristics (mid-year 1998 and 2025 projections) Rank

Country

1998 % Increase % Urban 2025 Projection Population (annual) (millions) (millions)

1

Egypt

65.4

2.2

43

95.8

2

Turkey

64.8

1.6

64

88.0

3

Iran

64.1

1.8

61

92.5

4

Algeria

30.2

2.4

56

47.3

5

Sudan

28.5

2.1

27

46.9

6

Morocco

27.7

1.8

52

41.2

7

Afghanistan

24.8

2.5

18

48.0

8

Iraq

21.8

2.8

70

41.6

9

Saudi Arabia

20.2

3.1

80

42.6

10

Yemen

15.8

3.3

25

39.0

11

Syria

15.6

2.8

51

26.3

12

Tunisia

9.5

1.9

61

13.5

13

Israel

6.0

1.5

90

8.1

14

Libya Jordan

5.7

3.7

86

14.2

15

4.6

2.5

78

10.0

16

Lebanon

4.1

1.6

87

5.6

17

Palestine N.A.

2.9

Gaza

1.1

4.6

3.0

W. Bank

1.8

3.4

3.9

18

United Arab Emirates

2.7

2.2

82

3.8

19

Oman

2.5

3.9

72

6.5

20

Kuwait

1.9

2.3

100

3.0

21

Cyprus

0.7

0.7

68

1.0

22

Bahrain

0.6

2.0

88

0.9

23

Qatar

0.5

1.7

91

0.7

Totals

420.6

683.4

Michael E. Bonine

220

For Comparison

1998 Population (millions)

%

% Urban

Increase (annual)

2025 Projection (millions)

World

5,926

1.4

44

8,082

More dev. West

1,178

0.1

73

1,240

Less dev. West

4,748

1.7

36

6,842

USA

270.2

0.6

75

335.1

Europe

728

-0.1

71

715

China

1,242.5

1.0

30

1,561.4

331 624

1.7

76

453

2.6

27

1,076

South America Sub-Sah. Africa

Source: Population Reference Bureau, 1998 World Population Data sheet (1998).

Another way to understand the relationship of population to arable land is to reverse the above statistic, so that the figure becomes the number of persons per hectare of arable land (Table 8.2). The Gulf states, with their small areas of arable land, stand out - especially Kuwait (360 persons per ha) and Bahrain (150 persons per ha). (The world average in 1996 was 3.8 persons per ha and the European average was 5.4 persons per ha.) The Middle Eastern countries with the greatest areas of cultivation (Turkey, Iran, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Algeria) have ratios from 2.3 to 3.6 persons per ha. The more dire agricultural situation is seen in Yemen (9.6 persons per ha), Lebanon (12.7), Jordan (10.7), Israel (13.3), and especially Egypt (19.2). The most important aspect of these ratios, however, is how they are changing. As population increases faster than new cultivation (or intensification), there is less and less per capita arable land to provide food for the population. The situation of Egypt from 1821 to 1975 is indicative of this change. While the population increased from 4.2 million to 37 million, the cultivated area did not quite double in the same period. Per capita cultivated area fell from .73 feddarn to .15 feddans (1 feddan = 1.03 acres or .42 hectares). (And per capita cropped area, which takes into account double-cropping on the same land within a year, fell from .73 feddans to .29 feddans.)7 Egypt has doubled its populations since 1975, reaching an estimated 65.5 million in mid-1998. And even though efforts are being made to continue to increase and intensify cultivation, especially with new irrigated

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lands and additional available water because of the Aswan High Dam, per capita cultivated area continues to fall.

Agricultural Development and Food Security in the Middle East Agriculture is usually never the major contributor to the GDP (gross domestic product) in the Middle East because of the high values of other economic sectors - especially petroleum in the oil-rich states. Hence agriculture may contribute as low as 1-2 percent of the GDP in the Gulf oil states (which also is a reflection of the small areas of arable land). On the other hand, agriculture may contribute around 15-20 percent of GDP in Turkey, Iran, Syria, and Egypt, and an even greater percentage in the poorer and more rural states of Yemen, Sudan, and Afghanistan. The role of agriculture in the economic development (and the political economy) of the Middle East has been put into perspective by Richards and Waterbury: “All the societies of the region face similar problems in extracting and investing resources, building an industrial sector while modernizing agriculture, absorbing an ever-larger proportion of growing populations into cities, all the while trying to maintain political order and to build a credible military establishment. This set of problems confronts all developing countries.”8 Food security is a paramount concern of all states. Within the Middle East food issues can become quite critical. The food gap in the region is the largest for any major world region and the Middle East cannot produce enough food to feed its population. This situation has resulted from the rapid population growth described in the previous section and rising per capita incomes, which also reflect higher living standards and hence greater consumption of foods (including higher-quality products, such as red meat). Even though national agricultural production levels have continued to rise most years (except during drought years in some states), the demand for food has increased at an even faster rate. The rapid rise of incomes in the 1970s in the oil-rich states was a major stimulus to the importation of foods for the entire region, the non-oil states benefiting by providing migrant labor to the oil states and hence receiving remittances.9 The food gap in the Middle East has not improved in 1998. Why is this the case? First, there are the major environmental constraints, mentioned above. Second, for most countries of the Middle East, it simply is not rational for food

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security to mean self-sufficiency in food production. There is insufficient cultivated land for the population numbers. In most states there is not enough water, no matter how efficient or modem the system, to increase agricultural production. The burgeoning populations, and their rising living standards, require more and more water each year as well. Rapid urbanization and industrialization are also taking place within these countries.10 As these societies become more and more urban, more employment opportunities must be found, as well as more housing and service establishments. Industrialization is one path not only for employment but also for national economic development. But industry, retail establishments, and new housing (even if squatter settlements) require water, often substantial amounts, which places more demands on the limited water supply. In the oil-rich states, such as Saudi Arabia, the domestic and even industrial water demand is met largely with desalinized water. Except for some greenhouse operations, however, that option is too expensive (and of insufficient quantity) for most agriculture - as well as not being available even for urban areas in poorer countries. Yet, self-sufficiency in agriculture, and hence providing food for their own populations, is the stated goal of many if not most of the states in the region. As will be illustrated in some of the case studies below, national goals often focus on subsidized irrigation water or agricultural production. Crops grown are more expensive than their world market prices. Sources of water are often not renewable, and hence future supplies of water - even for domestic use - are in jeopardy. Goals of national security focus on not being dependent on outside sources of food, as well as a desire to reduce imports because of the loss of foreign exchange. This provides much of the rationalization for extensive agriculture and irrigation developments. Individuals, especially local elites, often are the main recipients of the wealth generated from extensive (state) irrigation and agricultural schemes and developments. The result is an overuse of a finite resource (water), the promotion of large-scale agribusiness projects, and the continued deterioration of a fragile, marginal arid environment.

Country Studies: Some Comparisons In this section several countries in the Middle East are used for understanding the role of agriculture within those states as well as for comparisons of patterns and

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trends. Issues that are pertinent to the agricultural situation in each specific country are emphasized. It should be realized, however, that agricultural development cannot be separated from the general economic development and economic health of a nation. Politics and political turmoil affect what happens to the agricultural sector as well, if not directly, at least in terms of what resources might or might not be made available for the rural sector. Iran: From White Revolution to Islamic Republic Agriculture and rural society in Iran have undergone substantial changes within the last four decades. Major land reform measures were instituted under the shah as part of the White Revolution of the 1960s, resulting in rather massive redistribution of lands from large landowners to small farmer families. This increased dramatically the number of owner-operated farms as land was distributed to many of those who held cultivation rights to specific parcels of land (or water). There were negative impacts of the land reform, however, such as the destruction of much of the organization of rural society, including the loss of the boneh, a traditional form of peasant farmer organization in some areas of Iran based upon cooperation for plowing, harvesting, and other agricultural tasks.11 There was a marked increase in the number of landless peasants, the khushnishin, who previously had been able to work as sharecroppers or wage earners, but who in the 1970s often constituted part of the migrant, poor population of the cities, particularly Tehran. The qanat systems also often deteriorated. Traditional upkeep of these irrigation systems was based upon landlord-peasant ties, with landowners usually providing most of the support for the maintenance, cleaning, and repair of the canals. The new, small-scale individual owners usually were not willing to provide the needed financial support to keep them in their best working condition.12 Many other social ties also revolved around the life and rhythm of the qanat. With the deterioration or even loss of these systems, there were also major changes impacting the socioeconomic relationships of the traditional societies, which McLachlan has so aptly called “qanat irrigation cultures.”13 Established expectations and relationships were often changed or lost, without any new framework to replace them. Even though the Iranian land reform redistributed the land to many small landowners, the program changed in orientation and philosophy after the early 1960s.14 Agricultural growth and production were stressed, as part of a major push

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for modernization. Agricultural development was seen as a means not of improving the livelihoods of the rural society but of producing cash crops for export and hence for foreign exchange. Industrial growth was a major national goal, and the rural areas were seen as a source of labor for the cities and urban sectors. Agriculture stagnated and deteriorated in the 1970s. Rural society often became a geriatric society as most of the young people migrated to urban areas to find work, which paid up to eight times more than what could be earned in the rural areas. There were a number of large-scale, state-sponsored agricultural schemes developed during this period as well. Particularly in Khuzistan Province in southwestern Iran, foreign agribusiness ventures were emphasized, which were rather spectacular and expensive failures. Grace Goodell, conducting field work in the period 1972-1975, has examined one of the more significant agricultural development schemes, the Dez Irrigation Project in northern Khuzistan.15 First designed in the mid-1950s by David Lilienthal, architect of the Tennessee Valley Authority, and financed by the World Bank, it was touted for many years as the World Bank's premier agricultural showcase in the Middle East. Not only were the production projections not reached (being less than the agricultural production of the rural area for which they were established), but also the dispossessed farmers, who were removed from their recently acquired lands under land reform, became wage earners, and their rural economy and society were totally destroyed. Goodell notes the attitude toward the Iranian rural society: “In talking to these technocrats, to high officials in Tehran, to Mr. Lilienthal and many of his staff, as well as to the foreigners and Iranians who administered the agricultural enterprises where the new model townsmen were sent to work, I saw that few of those men striving to realize the great Iranian Plan considered the rural people to be fully human (even as individuals, and certainly not collectively).”16 At least 100 villages were confiscated, and the lands taken away (“repurchased”) and leased to foreign agribusinesses, which would hire the former villagers on a daily wage basis and as needed seasonally. Four large agribusinesses were established, each about 17,000 ha (42,500 acres): “British, New Mexican, Australian, French, New Zealand, Californian, Dutch, Japanese, Canadian, Israeli, Hawaiian, Scottish, Roumanian, and Danish companies and their experts came to the Dez Project to bid for its land, to import cattle and spray planes, to mechanize the cotton and sugar beet harvests, and to establish feed lots and complementary processing factories.”17 Thirteen shahraks or new model towns (called “labor centers”) were established to house the displaced villagers and service the

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agribusinesses. At least 75,000 people were actually displaced by the project in the first stage, and only about one-seventh of these received alternative housing. “The State referred to the shahraks as ‘model’ towns not only because it considered their conditions ideal, but also because it planned to redesign Iran's entire countryside on their pattern, with the agribusiness and State farms as integral parts of the paradigm.”18 The Iranian Revolution of 1978-1979 and the resulting establishment of the Islamic Republic of Iran represented a rather drastic sociopolitical change for Iran and its people. The deterioration of the agricultural sector, including the disastrous results of the agribusiness schemes, was used by the shah's opponents as a major issue, and it was one of the contributing causes of the revolution and the succeeding sociopolitical transformation of the country. Agriculture therefore became one of the priorities of the new regime. Self-sufficiency in foodstuffs became central to the new regime's economic philosophy. However, without the funds to build major dams to increase irrigation and extend the cultivated areas, the emphasis has been on intensification of cultivation on existing lands. Traditional agriculture and irrigation have received renewed support, including the rebuilding and maintenance of some qanat systems. Government subsidies have been used to support the growing of grains, particularly wheat. The Islamic Republic increased its support to 53 Iranian rials ($0.74) per kilogram, compared with the pre-revolution price of 18 Iranian rials ($0.18). In March 1983 the government began providing further subsidies in kind as well as giving tax exemptions for ten years to all farmers who followed official guidelines. For each ton of wheat produced, the government offered 100 kilograms of fertilizer, four kilograms of cube sugar, and one kilogram of tea.19 By 1994 the government had spent $350 million subsidizing the agricultural sector. Short-term credit to farmers also was increased under the Islamic Republic. Whereas $600 million had been lent in the last year of the shah, in 1982-1983 the Agricultural Bank lent $11.9 billion, and in 1983-1984 it lent $2.3 billion. Yet, despite these measures, at least for the first decade after the revolution, it has been observed that “Iran was no more self-sufficient [in food] than it was in the latter days of the Shah's rule.”20 Food imports, indeed, have continued to be a problem; in 1984 these imports through governmental agencies were $3.7 billion, while by 1990-1991 they had reached $5.3 billion. In 1991 domestic production of all cereals at 13.7 million tons comprised 71 percent of the total domestic supply, with wheat's 8.8 million tons

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representing 71 percent. In 1996 production of all cereals had increased to 15.5 million tons and wheat to 10.0 million tons, but this represented only a slight increase in the total domestic supply by production to 73 and 72 percent respectively. Other major imports in 1996, besides rice, barley, and maize, were sugar (over half the need) and vegetable oils (over three-fourths of the need).21 Agriculture and agricultural development has often been described as the weakest aspect of the Iranian economy and the largest impediment to progress. Within the Iranian government today there are often contradictory views as to what should be done to improve agriculture. The Ministry of Agriculture favors providing mainly technical assistance to the sector while the Ministry of Construction Jihad favors more land reform. However, the latter ministry does not support private landownership, but, instead, advocates the creation of collective cooperative farming organizations. There are still many land claims to settle, and nearly one-fourth of the most fertile farmland awaits settlement claims between large landlords and the farmers who have taken their land. Ideological factors often have taken precedence over sound farm management practices. In addition, the Iran-Iraq War of 1980-1988 disrupted agriculture in western Iran, as well as created major financial burdens on the state. Droughts and even earthquakes, which have destroyed some irrigation systems, have added to the problems.22 Agricultural projects in Iran in the 1990s include (or propose) building twenty dams and improving the efficiency of irrigation canals to prevent water loss. Subsidies on pesticides and fertilizers are being phased out. Mechanization is being emphasized, especially for rice cultivation. Cooperatives are being encouraged, and more food processing industries are being built. In the mid-1990s the Minister of Agriculture stated that Iran was producing 84 percent of its food requirements, compared to 75 percent in 1990. He even predicted that by the end of the century Iran would be exporting food instead of having to import it - a rather optimistic if not doubtful forecast.23 Saudi Arabia: Re-creating the Great Plains in the Desert Considering that Saudi Arabia is usually associated mainly with the oil sector, the agricultural production - and goals for self-sufficiency - in this extremely arid (mostly hyperarid) country are rather surprising. By the late 1980s approximately 600,000-700,000 ha of land were under regular cultivation. In 1996 Saudi Arabia had 3.8 million ha of arable land (although not all was being cultivated annually),

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with 1.5 million ha of irrigated land.24 The spectacular story in Saudi agriculture is certainly the vast wheat scheme, which can be seen as a fantastic success or as a most unwise, profligate venture. In the desire for self-sufficiency and more wealth via exports, the government supported heavily subsidized wheat production beginning in the early 1980s. The annual wheat harvest in 1979-1980 totaled 142,000 metric tons; in just several years it was several million metric tons, peaking in 1990-1991 with 4 million tons. About half of this amount was exported. The wheat scheme was heavily subsidized, farmers being paid about $1,000 per ton of wheat in 1984, six times the world market price. In 1987 Saudi Arabia was the sixth largest exporter of wheat in the world. By the late 1980s the subsidies began to be reduced; in 1988-1989 farmers were paid $533 per ton for wheat that sold on the world market for $120.25 Saudi wheat was grown with water from deep, non-renewable aquifers. Water tables dropped drastically as a result. The government then reevaluated the wheat scheme and reversed its policies promoting wheat exports. The new goal was to produce only enough wheat for local consumption (approximately 2 million tons). Especially beginning in 1993 subsidies were drastically reduced or ended, and the government reduced the amount and the price of wheat it would buy, and delayed paying others from whom it had bought grain. Production soon fell dramatically: 3.4 million tons in 1993, 2.7 million tons in 1994, and 2 million tons in 1995. In 1996 only 1.2 million tons of wheat were produced, and some wheat even had to be imported to meet the domestic needs.26 The water situation in Saudi Arabia is rather alarming. Agriculture accounts for 89 percent of water use in the country, and both domestic use and agriculture needs are seen as increasing in the future. The government has initiated ambitious projects to increase the nation's water supply, including the construction of dams and irrigation works and surveys for more underground water resources. About 8085 percent of Saudi Arabia’s water supplies comes from groundwater, some of which is from shallow alluvial aquifers from quaternary deposits in the western and southwestern parts of the country, but most of which comes from non-renewable, confined aquifers. The mean annual recharge of the alluvial aquifers is estimated at 900 million cubic meters. For the seven major confined aquifers in central and eastern Saudi Arabia, the recharge is on the order of 1.3 billion cubic meters (coming from leakage from the shallow alluvial aquifers and rainfall).27 Most of the water used in Saudi Arabia comes from these deep aquifers. Whereas the country's total water requirement was 1.75 billion cubic meters in

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1975, by 1985 this had increased considerably, to 9.6 billion cubic meters, with at least 75 percent coming from these aquifers. Withdrawals certainly far exceed the natural recharge. And projections for future water needs are 17 billion cubic meters in 2000 and 21 billion cubic meters in 2010.28 (As a comparison the Nile's average has been measured/designated [at Aswan] as 84 billion cubic meters annually.)29 Reclaimed water will become more important in the future, and desalinated water will continue to be important for urban areas. Yet, non-renewable groundwater is still predicated to be 84 percent of the water source in 2010. With the steep rise in water use, accumulated net withdrawals will quickly use up proven groundwater reserves and will depend upon probable and possible groundwater reserves.30 One reason that so much groundwater is being used in Saudi Arabia is that not only are cultivated areas being expanded, but also there is great waste and inefficient use of water. Irrigation efficiency is very low; one study estimating that the average coefficient of efficiency in agriculture was about 0.55, meaning that 45 percent of the water used for irrigation was lost. Open and unlined irrigation ditches lead to loss by evaporation which is augmented by seepage losses. As important, however, is the fact that the government gives very little incentive for using water efficiently. Irrigation water is either provided free by the government or comes from privately owned wells, which are under the total control of the owner, who has the right to use as much water as he pleases.31 Despite the problematic future for water in Saudi Arabia, the government, nevertheless, has the target of raising agricultural production to near selfsufficiency in all foods.32 By 1991 the country was self-sufficient in fresh milk and laban, a yoghurt drink (although powdered milk is imported and used in many products). Large feedlots, operations for dairy cows, and poultry farms are now common. The government's goal for the production of sheep is self-sufficiency. Presently the government imports about 65 percent of its live sheep requirements, especially needed for the Hajj and Ramadan sacrifices. In 1998 about 6.4 million live sheep and 58 thousand metric tons of lamb, mutton, and goat meat are forecast to be imported. Although about 75 percent of local sheep production is on traditional farms, large operations are becoming more common. The two largest farms have 300,000 producing ewes and 200,000 ewes respectively.33 One can speculate on the water requirements of these large operations as well. Developing the Saudi agricultural sector has indeed reduced the percentage of food imports needed (e.g., from 83 percent of total food requirements in 1980 to 65

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percent in 1987). Yet, since the late 1980s the cost of food imports has been in the range of $3-5 billion annually.34 Jordan: Water Scarcity and Conflict A focus of Arab-Israeli contention, the Jordan River system has been the site of more international conflict than any other river basin in the Middle East. Affecting Israel and Jordan in particular, it also involves Syria, Lebanon, and now the Palestinian Authority. For Jordan the most crucial element is the Jordan River tributary, the Yarmouk, the source of water for the East Ghor Canal, which irrigates the Jordanian side of the Jordan Valley. Water-related issues have been paramount in the recent peace negotiations between Israel and Jordan. Water items preceded security issues, borders, and territorial matters in the agenda that led to the finalized Treaty of Peace, signed between the two countries on 26 October 1994. One result of the peace treaty with Israel is additional flows of water from the Yarmouk and Jordan Rivers, expected to increase as much as 230 million cubic meters annually - a 25 percent addition to the Jordan River's present supply of water.35 The Jordan River system supplies the most important part of Jordan's irrigated land, even though it comprises only about 15 percent of the country's cultivated land. For instance, its average national share in agricultural production is around 65 percent of vegetables, 60 percent of fruits, and 10 percent of field crops.36 There are very few groundwater resources in the country. Most of Jordan's agricultural land is under rain-fed cultivation, which constitutes about 75-80 percent of the total arable land. Principally in the highland northwest, the rainfall is rather low and quite variable, and hence cultivation is quite risky most years. Wheat and barley are the main crops. In the last several years, there has been below-normal rainfall and hence the yields have dropped considerably. Within Jordan there have been major projects to increase water for irrigation and to intensify agriculture in these areas - principally the Jordan Valley. For instance, the Jordan Valley Authority has focused on improving irrigation efficiency, and this has increased from 57 percent in 1994 to 70 percent in 1996.37 In 1990 the government leased unused state-owned land at only JD 1 per dunum (JD 1 = $1.40, 10 dunums = 1 hectare) to promote domestic agricultural production.38

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Jordan is heavily dependent on food imports, and so government policies aim to increase domestic agricultural production. Wheat is the country's largest crop in terms of land cultivated but that represents only 10 percent of the annual consumption requirements for this grain, the rest being imported.39 Many other foods must be imported as well, including rice, com, soybean meal, sesame seeds (and many other oilseeds), tobacco, cotton, and all of the seed requirements, including vegetable seed. In 1989 Jordan imported food amounting to $252 million; by 1993 this had increased by more than 87 percent, to $471 million.40 Some crops are exported, especially fresh fruits and vegetables, which are shipped mainly to the Gulf Arab states (with the United Arab Emirates the principal recipient). Since the late 1960s Jordan’s agricultural policy has centered on selfsufficiency in basic crops (such as wheat). Yet, at the same time, the prices of basic food items were controlled in a bid to keep the cost of living down. The two, often conflicting, objectives led to a mix of interventionist policies, which have often led to inefficient use of resources and increase in food imports. Policies have included subsidized produce prices, especially for wheat and barley; low water prices in the Jordan Valley; subsidized agricultural credit; regulated cropping patterns in the irrigated areas; and subsidies to encourage the planting of fruit trees.41 In 1989 Jordan adopted a structural adjustment program supported by the IMF and the World Bank. Policies have been put into place to remove controls on agriculture and consumer subsidies gradually in the 1990s, and to provide more incentives to the private sector to make the economy more efficient. In August 1996 the government discontinued its price subsidy program for bread, introducing in its place a cash subsidy for bread. In June 1997 coupons were no longer issued to lowincome families for sugar, rice, and powdered milk; they were replaced with cash allowances. The government also in 1997 abolished a long-standing price control system that fixed the prices for locally produced fruits and vegetables. The government has stopped intervening in the market and has been allowing private companies to have considerably less restrictions and supervision.42 Egypt: The Gift o f the Nile Agriculture is the most important economic sector in Egypt, although its contribution to GDP has been shrinking, from 20 percent in FY 1986/87 to 16.3 percent in FY 1996/97. Over the same period, the number of Egyptians employed in the agricultural sector fell from about one-half of the total labor force to one-

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third. Economic liberalization since the mid-1980s has impacted agriculture considerably. As of 1997, sugarcane is the only crop which farmers are still obliged to market through a public sector body. For thousands of years the annual flood of the Nile provided the lifeblood of agriculture in Egypt. Cultivation occurred in a thin, green strip along the Nile, which widened into the Delta, as well as in some nearby basins, which were irrigated by large take-off canals. Basin agriculture depended on the water soaking the depression, which could total thousands of hectares, for about a month, and returning to the river afterwards when planting could take place. No more irrigation is needed for the planted crops, the ground being sufficiently soaked by the flood. The Nile flood takes place in late summer/early fall due to the huge flow of the Blue Nile resulting from the summer rains in Ethiopia. This is ideal for the planting of wheat, barley, and other Mediterranean crops, which are sown in the fall, grow over the winter, and are harvested in the spring. Other winter crops are beans, vegetables, and berseem (Egyptian clover, used for animal feed). Main summer crops are cotton, rice, maize (com), and sorghum. Egypt is more than self-sufficient in fruit and vegetables, some of which is exported to the European Union.43 Until very recently the Nile flood would overflow its banks, which provided the principal water and some sediment deposition used for cultivation in Egypt. The flood could be most destructive in some years, but in drought years there might be an insufficient flood for adequate cultivation. In the nineteenth century, agricultural expansion and intensification was a constant theme, and the population of Egypt continued to grow. There came a need for a more reliable water supply, and so in 1902 the Aswan Dam was built. The impounded water, only 2 billion cubic meters of the Nile’s average annual flow of 84 billion cubic meters, was obtained principally by capturing the tail end of the flood. The Aswan Dam water did provide more water for cultivation, especially in the summer when vegetable crops - and cotton - could be grown. Yet, although the dam’s height was raised twice, the need for even more agriculture and irrigation water and a more reliable water supply meant that the Aswan Dam was inadequate.44 The Aswan High Dam, located six kilometers upstream from the older Aswan Dam, was completed in July 1970. It was built not only to expand irrigation and agriculture, but also to control floods (or alleviate drought), generate electric power, and serve as Gamal Abdel Nasser’s showcase for the Arab world.45 The new Lake Nasser held about one and one-half times the average annual flow of the Nile. Water from Lake Nasser increased considerably the possibilities of perennial

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irrigation and hence also double- and triple-cropping the same piece of land. Further land reclamation also was a goal, with new-lands schemes a major program for expanding the area of cultivation. Yet, the extension of agriculture through reclamation has been slow, difficult, and costly. In 1995 the total arable land was 7.6 million feddans (3.2 million ha), all irrigated. This amount included 1.4 million feddans (588,100 ha) of reclaimed desert land. The bulk of agricultural production from reclamation is intended for the marketplace and not for subsistence.46 The intensification of cultivation has been one of the main effects of the High Dam. More pumps and barrages have been built, and the lavish use of chemical fertilizers and pesticides, strict crop rotations, and even more use of manual labor have raised annual yields per hectare to higher levels. Egyptian agriculture, in fact, is some of the most intense in the world. More and more of the land is being triple­ cropped, so that three separate crops can be grown in the same year on the same piece of land. Despite all the expansion and intensification efforts, agricultural production cannot keep up with the increasing population. Major food imports have continued and Egypt has become more and more dependent on substantial imports of foodstuffs. From a position of self-sufficiency in food during the early 1970s, Egypt now has to import more than half of its food. The increase in the rate of wheat consumption exemplifies the problems faced by the agricultural sector. The annual consumption of wheat by Egyptians rose from 80 kilograms per head in 1960, to 197 kilograms in 1970, and 300 kilograms in 1986/87, making Egyptians the world’s largest consumers of wheat per head of population. Egypt consumed 8.9 million tons of wheat in 1986/87, compared with 4.2 million tons in 1970, a 7 percent annual rate of increase.47 The expansion and intensification of agriculture is counterbalanced by the loss of agriculture to urbanization, especially as Cairo expands northward into the Delta. On average every year about 20,000 ha of agricultural land are being lost to urban growth or to the red clay brick manufacturing industry, which pays farmers large sums for the rich, red topsoil from their fields (even though there was a ban on the manufacturing of red bricks in 1985) 48

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Conclusions: Challenges for the Future Agriculture - and agricultural development - face major constraints in the Middle East, especially the scarcity of water and other environmental limitations. Despite these overriding environmental problems, major, grand schemes for agricultural development have been put into place. The Iranian Dez Irrigation project and the Saudi wheat scheme are examples of rather questionable programs. The goals of food self-sufficiency definitely must be reexamined: a desirable goal, yes, but one which is unrealistic in this physical environment, and one which not only will use considerable resources but also is doomed to failure with the continuing rapid population growth. This brings us to the question of the sustainability of agriculture in the Middle East. In terms of using non-renewable water resources, such as the Saudi wheat scheme, much agriculture is certainly not sustainable in the long term. There are many examples, in fact, of continuing expansion of cultivation or the intensification of agriculture, which require greater and greater water inputs. Although increasing efficiencies of water use and reducing the waste of water is certainly one rational way to increase production, there are also limits to these technologies. But is sustainability only a physical process? I would maintain that sustainability must include a social dimension as well. The destruction of rural society, as happened in Iran in the 1970s, is not sustainability in the broader sense. The destruction of rural society in order to have more efficient water use, greater production, and more cash crops does not provide for the sustainability of society, or for the stability of the state. This does not mean that technological innovations and improvements should not be instituted, but that they must be done within the framework of the existing rural socioeconomic structures. Food security is another matter. The equating of food security with selfsufficiency, however, is also doomed to failure. There must be regional, i.e., interstate or international, schemes for agricultural development. Presently, each nation has embarked on its program often in disregard to the environmental risks and the often extreme expenses involved in farming in the desert. With the scarcity of water the key, the potential for conflict between states escalates. The (past and still potential) problems over international water allocations - of the Jordan River system between Israel, Jordan, and Syria, the Euphrates and Tigris water between Turkey, Syria, and Iran, and the Nile water between Egypt, Sudan, and Ethiopia underscore the importance of this scarce resource. Conflicts within states, such as

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civil wars in Lebanon, Sudan, and Afghanistan, often have been devastating to local systems in particular. Hence one of the first requirements for food security, and for agricultural development, is real peace between neighboring states and within states. This can lead to regional cooperative ventures for water development and sharing, as well as lessening the need for each country to try and become as self-sufficient as possible. Cooperation must take place if sustainable agriculture is to be a goal. A second requirement is that the small (and traditional) farmer - the household, the small-scale farming system - must be given high priority in agricultural development. Small-farming and irrigation systems are not necessarily inefficient, and they do not necessarily need to be replaced with large-scale, modem, high-tech agribusiness farming systems. A healthy socioeconomic rural society is necessary for a politically stable state. Declining mral areas accelerate rural-to-urban migration and exacerbate the many problems of the expanding • •

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Challenges fo r the Twenty-First Century The challenge for the twenty-first century is for agriculture in the Middle East to become as sustainable as possible, particularly in relation to the scarcity of water resources. Here are some suggestions to approach that goal. 1) Control and reduce the rapid population growth. Family planning programs must become more successful in this region. By the year 2050 there will be at least 800 or 900 million people in this region, even if the countries’ rates of increase do begin to decline; if they don’t, there will be even more people. Most of the technological advances and efficiencies will only lose ground to the burgeoning population. Self-sufficiency will fade more and more into the background as it becomes necessary to import more and more food. 2) Regional/interstate production programs and cooperative systems for agricultural development need to be instituted. It is not rational for each nation to attempt to become as self-sufficient as possible in food by growing its own. Resources of the state should be put into other sectors of the economy, and the importation of foods must become part of the accepted economy. 3) Water must be used more wisely. It does not make sense to raise crops where scarce, non-renewable water resources must be used. By definition, some day there will not be water there (or none of sufficient quantity or quality).

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Irrigation efficiencies can certainly be increased in many instances, except that they should not be instituted in disregard of the rural society. Reuse of wastewater, conservation measures for water use, and many other measures can increase the total amount of water available. Many of these measures will have to be instituted just to have sufficient water for the increasing domestic use of the growing population. 4) An agricultural development approach must be used that promotes rural social development. This is particularly true in countries with sizable rural societies, such as Iran, Turkey, Egypt, Algeria, Morocco, and Yemen. Agricultural development cannot be viewed as just increasing the number of hectares, yields, and exports and decreasing imports. Certainly those are lofty goals, but they must be compatible with a viable rural society. Successful agricultural development can only be part of development that truly focuses on improving the livelihoods of the rural society. 5) Promote development of the small to medium-size farm - instead of focusing on large agribusiness projects. If the focus becomes the farmer and his livelihood, then the small to medium-size farm should emerge as the most viable form. Agricultural development or agricultural sustainability? For agricultural development to truly be development, in the long run, it must be instituted within a framework of sustainability. Physical sustainability (limited or non-renewable water resources in particular) is one key concept. But equally as important is social sustainability. Agricultural development must be compatible with its society. There are, indeed, certain ways of life, societal value systems, and vested interests which must be understood, and taken into account, with any agricultural development. National production goals, efficiencies, and high-tech solutions cannot be goals within themselves - only within the society for which these goals are being implemented.

Notes 1. United Nations Environment Program, World Atlas o f Desertification (London: Edward Arnold, 1992), pp. 4-5. 2. Peter Beaumont, Drylands: Environmental Management and Development (New York: Routledge, 1989), p. 36.

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3. Jonathan B. Mabry, “The Ethnology of Local Irrigation,” in Canals and Communities: Small-Scale Irrigation Systems, ed. Jonathan B. Mabry (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1996), p. 6. 4. Michael E. Bonine, “From Qanat to Kort: Traditional Irrigation Terminology and Practices in Central Iran,” in Iran, Vol. 20 (1982), pp. 145-159. 5. See the case study in Eckart Ehlers, “Qanats and Pumped Wells: The Case of Assad’abad, Hamadan,” in Qanat, Kariz and Khattara: Traditional Water Systems in the Middle East and North Africa, eds. Peter Beaumont, Michael Bonine, and Keith McLachlan (Cambridgeshire: Middle East and North African Studies Press, 1989), pp. 89-112. 6. For population growth and projections for the Gulf States, see Michael E. Bonine, “Population Growth, the Labor Market and Gulf Security,” in Gulf Security in the Twenty-First Century, eds. David E. Long and Christian Koch (Abu Dhabi: The Emirates Center for Strategic Studies and Research, 1997), pp. 226-264; for further discussions of Middle East population issues see Michael E. Bonine, “Population, Poverty, and Politics: Contemporary Middle East Cities in Crisis,” in Population, Poverty, and Politics in Middle East Cities, ed. Michael E. Bonine (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 1997), pp. 1-21. 7. John Waterbury, Hydropolitics o f the Nile Valley (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1979), p. 36. 8. Alan Richards and John Waterbury, A Political Economy o f the Middle East (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1990), p. 6. 9. Ibid., p. 139. 10. Bonine, “Population Growth, the Labor Market, and Gulf Security”; Bonine, “Population, Poverty, and Politics in Middle East Cities.” 11. Eric J. Hooglund, Land and Revolution in Iran: 1960-1980 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982). 12. Michael E. Bonine, “Qanats and Rural Societies: Sustainable Agriculture and Irrigation Cultures in Contemporary Iran,” in Canals and Communities: Small-Scale Irrigation Systems, ed. Jonathan B. Mabry (Tucson: University of Arizona Press, 1996), pp. 183-209. 13. Keith McLachlan, The Neglected Garden: The Politics and Ecology o f Agriculture in Iran (London: I. B. Tauris, 1988). 14. Fatemeh E. Moghadam, From Land Reform to Revolution: The Political Economy o f Agricultural Development in Iran, 1962-1979 (London: I. B. Tauris, 1996). 15. Grace E. Goodell, The Elementary Structures o f Political Life: Rural

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Development in Pahlavi Iran (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986). 16. Ibid., p. 11. 17. Ibid., pp. 26-21. 18. Ibid., p. 27. 19. Europa Publications, “Iran,” in The Middle East and North Africa 1998 (London: Europa Publications, 1997), p. 463. 20. Ibid., p. 464. 21. Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO), “Iran, Food Balance Sheet” (October 1998), online version, http://apps.fao.org. 22. Europa Publications, “Iran,” p. 464. 23. Ibid., pp. 464-465. 24. See Table 8.1. 25. Europa Publications, “Saudi Arabia,” in The Middle East and North Africa 1998 (London: Europa Publications, 1997), p. 893. 26. Ibid., pp. 893, 906; “Saudi Arabia, Agricultural Situation,” U.S. Department of Agriculture (October 1998), online version, http://www.fas.usda.gov. 27. Omar S. Abu Rizaiza and Mohamed N. Allam, “Water Requirements versus Water Availability in Saudi Arabia,” in Journal o f Water Resources Planning and Management, Vol. 115, No. 1 (1989), pp. 64-74. 28. Ibid., pp. 69-73. 29. Waterbury, Hydropolitics o f the Nile Valley, p. 20. 30. Abu Rizaiza and Allam, “Water Requirements versus Water Availability in Saudi Arabia,” pp. 69-74. 31. Abdulla Al-Ibrahim, “Excessive Use of Groundwater Resources in Saudi Arabia: Impacts and Policy Options,” in Ambio, Vol. 20, No. 1 (1991), pp. 34-37. 32. Europa Publications, “Saudi Arabia,” pp. 893-894. 33. http://www.fas.usda.gov (Saudi Arabia). 34. Europa Publications, “Saudi Arabia,” p. 893. 35. FAO, The State o f Food and Agriculture, 1995 (Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 1995), p. 162. 36. Ibid., p. 156. 37. “Jordan, Agricultural Situation,” U.S. Department of Agriculture (October 1998), online version, http://www.fas.usda.gov. 38. Europa Publications, “Jordan,” in The Middle East and North Africa 1998 (London: Europa Publications, 1997), p. 652. 39. http://www.fas.usda.gov (Jordan).

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Michael E. Bonine 40. FAO, The State o f Food and Agriculture, 1995, p. 156. 41. Ibid., pp. 158-159. 42. http://www.fas.usda.gov (Jordan).

43. Europa Publications, “Egypt,” in The Middle East and North Africa 1998 (London: Europa Publications, 1997), p. 411. 44. Waterbury, Hydropolitics o f the Nile Valley. 45. Ibid., esp. Chap. 4. 46. Europa Publications, “Egypt,” p. 411. 47. Ibid. 48. Ibid. 49. Bonine, “Population, Poverty, and Politics.”

9 / The Smallholder in Turkish Agriculture: Obstacle or Opportunity? Paul Kaldjian

For the past two decades, Turkey has been trying to increase its prominence as a supplier to the global grocery. However, in Turkey, over 3.5 million farms are holdings of less than 10 hectares (ha), comprising 85 percent of all farms and covering 42 percent of all agricultural lands. The vast majority of these are family farms, operating both as households and as enterprises, producing in varying proportions for both market and subsistence.1 In the face of this, the long-term objective in Turkey has been to draw production away from subsistence farming and toward the modernized production of agricultural commodities for the market and agro-industries.2 Beeley has observed the persistence of an “over-riding commitment to economic development based primarily on industrialization.”3 Efforts to industrialize the agricultural sector, commercialize production, and increase exports have significant impacts on domestic food supply and employment. To help understand the implications, this paper examines the contribution of small farms, evaluates their persistence and growth, and argues that the smallholder must be understood and seriously included as part of Turkish agricultural policy and development. Since the mid-1970s, Turkish agricultural exports have been climbing steadily. With nearly 25 percent of the Middle East’s and North Africa’s arable lands and abundant national water resources, Turkey is the Middle East’s primary agricultural producer (see Table 8.1 in Bonine, this volume). Further, with the Southeast Anatolia Project - a major agro-industrial project in the process of adding 1.7 million acres of irrigated land to the agricultural resource base - the regional role of Turkish agriculture and the expectations for it are increasing. The combination of agricultural conditions and natural resources has often led to the assertion that Turkey is one of the world’s elite group of agriculturally self-reliant countries 4 Beneath the veneer of abundance, however, are troubles. Agricultural imports are increasing faster than agricultural exports. For 1996, the State Planning Organization forecast domestic output of foodstuffs will increase by 3.8 percent and agro-food exports will increase by 4.1 percent, but agro-food imports will increase by 15.6 percent.5 Fisuno lu and Ye ilada argue that increased exports have come from

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industrial crops, encouraged to pay off massive debt service, the production of which is displacing traditional food crops.6 Also displacing traditional food crops are processed foods and other inported agricultural products.7 Similarly, the quality of Turkish wheat has declined to the point that wheat is inported from North America and Australia for export production - Turkey is the world’s second-greatest exporter of flour products.8 The livestock industry is in chronic difficulty,9 agricultural technical and extension services are insufficient, and crop yields are below the rates of competing countries for crops in which Turkey has a comparative advantage.10 Generally, Turkey’s inability to meet its agricultural potential is attributed to a number of intertwined causes, ranging from an ill-defined “backwardness” among farmers and peasants, the variability and vagaries of nature, declining soil fertility, and the legacy of Ottoman-era practices to a variety of much more contemporary administrative, technical, social, and operational inadequacies.11 Notably, the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations (FAO) claims that “farm size and land fragmentation are the major obstacles to agricultural progress and efficiency.”12 Since the early 1960s, efforts to redress these shortcomings have revolved around Green Revolution practices and other development packages designed in the West. These have been implemented under World Bank guidelines, with international oversight and funding from international or foreign commercial interests.13 Historically, the effort has been to mechanize, modernize, and industrialize agriculture through input subsidies and mechanization. Since almost all arable land is now in production,14 efforts to increase production are directed toward increasing yield rather than areal expansion. Up until 1980, Turkish agricultural policy was built around irrport substitution; since then, production for export has been the primary objective.15 Twenty-five years ago Aresvik observed that the “modernization of agriculture has been a very important part of Turkey’s development commitment to the achievement of modem Western civilization.”16 However, the continued persistence of the agricultural problems identical to those identified by Aresvik and others before him suggest that new approaches recognizing the realities of Turkish agriculture need to be seriously considered. The imperatives of global capital and the fascination of planners and policy-makers in Turkey with modernization and Western practices and goals appear to obscure opportunities to develop regionally appropriate Turkish agricultural development programs.17 An Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) journal article characterizes the way in which the problem is focused on the smallholder: “[Turkey is] faced with a daunting task: to transform

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the traditional Turkish farmer into a market-oriented producer adept at using modem scientific practices.”18 However, theoretical and empirical evidence shows that the peasant farmer is neither backward nor market averse. On the contrary, there is a body of research that argues that smallholder production in the world’s developing regions is more productive than large farms. Thus, broadly adopting policies, practices, and agricultural development schemes from industrial and large-scale agricultural systems found in the West, in an effort to increase Turkish presence in the global agro-food market, may be inappropriate for national food security and broad development goals. To explore Turkish agriculture in the context of the smallholder, this chapter uses regionally differentiated agricultural statistics, supported by empirical information, to help understand the scale diversity of the productive landscape.19 It examines scalar and spatial differences as it places the smallholder at the center of a productive and sustainable program of agricultural development - not as the problem, but as part of the solution. Though more detailed research is needed, data and research already available begin to demonstrate this. Effective programs will be those that are practical, informed, culturally relevant, and responsive to local needs. In this chapter, scale is used in two ways. First is the scale of production, for which farm size is a convenient proxy. Farm size varies significantly across Turkey’s nine regions, and even more across its nearly eighty provinces. From an investigation of farm size, differences between production for subsistence on one hand and more formal, commercialized production for sale off-farm (for domestic markets, export, and manufacturing inputs) will be discussed. Associated with the scale of production is spatial scale, the interrelationships between such constructions as local, regional, national, and international. These are the spaces in, across, and between which the various actors (peasants, merchants, migrants, laborers) and their products, knowledge, and aspirations move.20 After a review of conceptual and theoretical aspects, the presence, practice, and persistence of the Turkish smallholder will be examined.

Characteristics of the Peasant Smallholder Though they vary by method, crop, environment, culture, and numerous other material and contextual features, smallholders share numerous characteristics21 They practice intensive, permanent, diversified agriculture on relatively small farms in areas of dense population.22 The family household is the major unit for production

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and consumption, and provides the labor. It produces for subsistence and for the market, and typically supplements family income with cottage industry or off-farm work. The main factors of production are land and labor; on-farm decisions to allocate time, energy, practices, and inputs are made in the context of environmental and market uncertainty; economic decisions are rational and utilitarian, and are made and modified in specific social contexts.23 The smallholder is neither technically nor economically irrational, but sorts and balances a vast amount of information in the context of numerous constraints, opportunities, and uncertainties. Technically, they “practice intensive agriculture, producing relatively high annual or multi-crop yields from permanent fields that are seldom or never rested, with fertility restored and sustained by practices such as thorough tillage, crop diversification and rotation, animal husbandry, fertilization, irrigation, drainage, and terracing.”24 Economically, such peasant smallholders are defined “by their varying rather than total commitment to the market (implying also a variable capacity to withdraw from the market and still survive), and by the incomplete character of the markets in which they participate” i.e., markets which are sporadic and disconnected over space and time.25 The knowledge and skill base of smallholders is based largely on the accumulation of locally specific information, gathered experientally over generations, and designed around reducing risk and protecting food and household security. Because the small farm is not profit maximizing per se, its contribution to regional and national economic development schemes is difficult to situate. Yet, its place in national food production, provision, and security may be invaluable. Scale o f Production Since the early 1960s, an increasing number of analysts began to see the small-farm structure of developing countries as opportunities, rather than as obstacles to an energy-intensive, industrialized, and highly capitalized system geared toward increasing the production economies of scale. Specifically, they argued that an inverse relationship between farm size and agricultural productivity exists, especially in developing countries.26 Until this time, the prevailing belief had been that production efficiency and lower costs of food were all a function of farm size; the “hegemonic ideal enshrined in the West” favored large-scale, energy-expensive, mechanized, specialized, scientific, capital-intensive, labor-saving agriculture.27 Smallholders were considered old-fashioned, resistant to innovation, inefficient, and a barrier to

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modernization.28 Even Marx believed that production economies of scale would make family farms obsolete.29 The perception that farm size is directly related to productivity and efficiency, and that small farms are an obstacle to maximum agricultural productivity, continues to be a motivation for agricultural development programs. In terms of productivity per unit of labor, this may be true, as one person with a tractor can plow an area greater than another with a team of oxen. Many analyses, however, show that small farms are more productive per unit of area, especially when labor is plentiful and land resources are limited.30 In such situations, small farms might be expected to produce more per hectare than much bigger cultivated areas in the same region. When labor is substituted for land, both yields and energy efficiency rise.31 Empirical evidence for this is based on the smallholders’ more intense use of the land resource; larger farms undemtilize the total land area at their disposal in comparison to smaller farms.32 While large farms can be more productive in high-income countries, often due to the preference given them by state institutions and policies, empirical data from less developed countries show that land productivity is higher on small farms.33 Even evidence from the livestock sector in the United States shows no efficiency advantages in large-scale production.34 Therefore, and despite still having proponents in state bureaucracies, arguments for agricultural development focused on large, commercial farms - based on increasing economies of scale and the inabilities of small-scale, more traditional farms - are unfounded.35 At best, as Berry and Cline argue in a review of empirical studies, the returns to scale with increasing farm size in agriculturally developing countries will be constant.36 Economically, larger farms tend to use more extensive methods of production or replace labor with capital and farm mechanization.37 Binswanger and Rosenzwieg tie the primary reason for the lower productivity of large farms to their need to hire more labor; small farmers are cheaper and more efficient than hired workers.38 Unlike wage laborers hired onto large farms, smallholder owner-operators have highly personal stakes in eking out all possible returns. The self-exploitation of household labor and the incentives that accompany self-employment generally lead to greater yields from the plots of smallholders. This, however, can have serious ramifications for females who, under the gender division of labor, bear a disproportionately greater share of household labor demand.39 Certainly, it is difficult to accurately compare productivity on small and large farms. Large, capitalized farms, as primary beneficiaries of government largesse, are much more likely to be early and regular adopters of the Green Revolution package of

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inputs and practices. This is especially true in an era of structural adjustment.40 Opportunities for small landholders, without the collateral or capital to purchase and use chemical fertilizers and pesticides, hybrid seeds, and machinery, will be more limited. Comparing the output of smallholder systems with low-energy inputs to more highly capitalized systems that rely largely on high-energy manufactured inputs (i.e., fuel, fertilizers, and pesticides) biases the results. In general, the inverse relationship may break down with increased industrialization of agriculture and in the context of new technology.41 This may be due, in part, to the “lumpiness” of capital investments (i.e., a small farmer cannot purchase one-third of a tractor), access to credit, and high energy inputs, as well as to greater access to technologies, policy-making (and makers), and government-subsidized opportunities that large farmers have over small farmers. However, “lumpiness” can be overcome by rental markets or with the availability of alternative technologies (e.g., a rototiller in lieu of an entire tractor), and cooperatives have also been successfully used to overcome numerous of these problems. In addition, the accounting system used to measure production also works against the smallholder. “The strict criteria applicable to modem, specialized, single­ crop systems fail to cover the multiple uses of land and labor in traditional agriculture. The fact that the traditional world is also a non-statistical world creates further disadvantages for small-scale farmers. Gross harvests are often underreported and home consumption, local exchange, and post-harvest losses may escape accounting entirely.”42 Large farms may suffer low yields due to reliance on sharecropping to meet their labor needs. “Sharecropping is a land-owner’s last resort when family labor is unavailable and wage labor is scarce, since the lowest yield per hectare is obtained from fields rented to sharecroppers and female family labor produces the highest average yield per hectare, followed by wage labor.. .Crops cultivated on sharecropped land tend to receive less attention, which is why they tend to produce a low yield per hectare.”43 Others, however, also arguing from Turkish experiences, emphasize that sharecropping is a risk-reducing practice that works to the benefit of both landlord and sharecropper, and that it is an ingenious and “second-best outcome in environments characterized by risk, input market inperfections, and moral hazard.”44 It can be used to overcome local social discord by involving intermediaries45 and to provide opportunities to people from disadvantaged regions 46 As all of these authors show, in any country or region, there is wide diversity and creativity among sharecroppers, contracts, and sharecropping practices. Thus, while sharecropping may

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not be the most productive use of the land, by investing both the landlord and the sharecropper, it appears able to produce greater yields than simple wage labor. A potential problem with the inverse relationship between farm size and productivity is that farm size is not a perfect proxy for the nature, or type, of production. There is an inherent difficulty in comparing peasant-type farms with highly commercialized farms, regardless of scale. Farm size in terms of overall area should not be confused with the economic size of the farm in terms of the resources used, namely, the scale of production.47 Thus, some farms of small area can be very highly capitalized, industrialized, and singularly market-oriented, using high tech­ nologies. Examples include greenhouse and urban dairy production found in­ creasingly in North America and Europe. National or regional statistical data (of the type that is used later in this paper) do not usually distinguish between scales of production. To overcome such problems, detailed field analyses are needed. Just as nationally collected data on farm size do not discern the economic nature of the farm (whether it is peasant or entirely commercial), neither do such data take account of environmental resources. Dyer points out that those areas with higher agricultural land productivity will have higher population densities and, thus, lower farm sizes 48 This is in contrast to areas of poorer agricultural land, with lower population densities and greater farm sizes. Naturally, the areas of poorer-quality land will be less productive, and a macro-level analysis will show small farms to be more productive. One way of overcoming this problem is to examine the inverse relationship in terms of the yield of individual crops49 and to reduce the regional scale of analysis - another argument in support of detailed field studies. Ultimately, agricultural policy must consider rural and agricultural development objectives. For an overall food program that wants to make full use of national resources such as land and labor, and to ensure widespread food security, agricultural programs supportive of small farmers appear to have powerful benefits. If the goal is regional and national well-being, then a route through the smallholder seems well placed. If, on the other hand, the strategy is economic development and increased income, the ultimate goal may be to increase the returns per unit of labor. To increase returns from labor, and to increase the (potential) wealth of individuals and firms (financial as well as agricultural), a program geared toward fewer, large farms may be the goal. However, experience from around the world has already shown that this results in increasing landlessness, economic inequity, and widespread migration from rural areas to cities that do not have the capacity to absorb the extra population and labor.

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“Turkey’s fertile soil, and hard-working farmers make the country one of the few in the world that is self-sufficient in terms of food.”50 Others have noted that Turkey “is basically self-sufficient in foodstuffs”51 and that it “has succeeded in attaining selfsufficiency.”52 Despite the broad appeal inherent in the concept of self-sufficiency, its implications and meaning in practice are quite vague. Many (including Bonine in this volume) point out that agricultural self-sufficiency in an era of global food markets is of questionable benefit. Bluntly, Netting asserts that “complete food self-sufficiency in the modem world is autarchic impoverishment.”53 In fact, exploiting global comparative advantages may be critical for global food supply.54 Given the perception that Turkey is an agriculturally self-sufficient country, a word on agricultural self-sufficiency is in order. To meaningfully consider the concept requires an examination of scale, namely, the difference between production and consumption at the household, community, regional, and national scales. As the terminus of caravans and shipping lines, and as the consumptive center of empire and republic, Istanbul and the Ottoman Empire have always received provisions from across the Middle East, Europe, North Africa, and Asia.55 This was hardly a closed, or self-sufficient, system. When the Ottoman Empire lost its dominions after World War One, and its boundaries became those of the current Republic of Turkey, the scale of the food system, of agricultural production and trade, was changed from empire to nation. For the Turkish Republic to be agriculturally self-sufficient means that the shortfall of Ottoman provisions from Egypt, Mesopotamia, and Eastern Europe are made up with what is raised on the peninsulas of Thrace and Anatolia. Barkin, Batt, and DeWalt define food self-sufficiency as a “country’s ability to supply its population with basic foodstuffs from domestic production in sufficient quantities to achieve minimum nutritional standards.”56 At a national scale, however, even if a country like Turkey were able to feed its own people without reliance on inported agro-food products, it could hardly do so without importing the means such as fuel, fertilizers, and technologies - with which to produce them At local levels, traditional subsistence systems may have been largely self-sufficient, meeting many basic needs with what was produced in and around the village; still, the boundaries around villages are permeable to the exchange of resources and materials. As Turkish agriculture has become market integrated, very little remains of a locally oriented, largely self-sufficient production system organized around small villages.57

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Turkish villages are now part of a dynamic network linking the city and the countryside, the nation, and the world. On the other hand, if self-sufficiency is reconsidered to mean the ability of a household to viably meet its needs without external support, a widespread selfsufficiency at the household scale may be desirable. For the peasant smallholder, this may mean the ability to support a household through a combination of production for subsistence and for the market. Similarly, the urban dweller would need to be able to earn a living wage. Thus, the emphasis should be shifted from an idealized selfsufficiency to more concrete notions of food security. Rather than increasing agricultural self-sufficiency, efforts should be directed toward reducing household both rural and urban - vulnerability to food and nutritional shortages. Using statistics published by the Turkish State Institute of Statistics - and combining them with empirical evidence - the next section attempts to show that a national agricultural program intent on maximizing its potential might do well to reconsider the small, semi-subsistence farm. With increased attention paid to the contributions, abilities, and needs of smallholders, such a national agricultural program may be a move toward increased national food security and decreased household vulnerability.

Turkish Farms, Smallholders, and Productivity Agricultural Context Of Turkey’s 775,000 square kilometers, cropland as the percent of total land area between 1980 and 1995 has remained constant at just over 35 percent.58 Average annual rainfall is relatively abundant, but differences in any given area from one year to the next can be very significant. Seasonally, the vast majority of precipitation falls in the winter months. Therefore, irrigation is seen as the major means of reducing the inpact of sharp seasonal and annual weather fluctuations that have had significant impacts on agricultural production. For example, Turkey’s rain-fed wheat production is very susceptible to annual fluctuations and regional differences.59 Turkey’s currently irrigated area is roughly 3.5 million ha, about 13 percent of the cultivated area,60 and is projected to increase to around 5 million ha upon full implementation of the Southeast Anatolia Project over the course of the next fifteen years.

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Throughout the twentieth century, agriculture has been the cornerstone of the Turkish economy, though its significance is dropping. In 1979, agriculture generated 59 percent of total export revenue; 23 percent of export earnings were from the agricultural sector in 1992, and 15 percent over the last few years.61 In addition, the agricultural sector supports Turkey’s manufacturing sector. In 1995, the food processing and packaging industry accounted for 22.4 percent of the manufacturing sector's output and 13.2 percent of its total export value.62 Currently, after clothing and textiles, food and agriculture is still Turkey’s second leading export category (by value), of which fruit, vegetables, and nuts are two-thirds.63 As stated above, Turkish agriculture is defined by the smallholder. Nearly fifty years ago, Robinson concluded that, with time, Turkish villages would lose land, and suggested that ownership would eventually be consolidated.64 On the contrary, data since then show that average farm sizes in Turkey have been dropping steadily, and the number of agricultural holdings continues to increase (see Table 9.1). Table 9.1. Agricultural Holdings, Turkey

Number of farms (million) Average farm size (ha) Average parcels per farm

1950 1980 2.5 3.6 7.7 6.4 6.9

6.4

1991 4.1 5.9 5.2

Sources: State Institute of Statistics, Agricultural Census Results 1950 (Ankara, Turkey, 1956); General Agricultural Census: Result o f Household Survey 1980 (Ankara, Turkey, undated); General Agricultural Census 1991 (Ankara, Turkey, 1994).

While the number of farms has increased over time, they are not uniformly distributed, but vary widely and inequitably among landholders. The distribution of farmland in Turkey is shown in Table 9.2, from which one can see that the largest 5.3 percent of the landholders (those with 20 or more ha) own over one-third of the land, and the largest 15 percent of the holdings (those with 10 or more ha) contain over half of the land. On the other hand, one can see that the smallest one-third of agricultural holdings (those with less than 2 ha) contain less than 6 percent of the land, and the smallest two-thirds of the holdings (those with less than 5 ha) contain 22 percent of the land. Over 3.5 million farms in Turkey are less than 10 ha (25 acres).65 The small farm is a major contributor to Turkish agriculture, both in area and even more so in

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the number of producers. Coordinating so many small farms in a national agricultural program requires specialized administration.66 Operations based on specialized and tight linkages between the farm and the market - as found in Europe and North America - will be difficult, if not unrealistic. Table 9.2. Distribution of Farms by Size and Area, Turkey, 1991 Farm Small

Holding Size (ha)

Holdings (% of total)

Holdings (% farmed)

500.0

32.10 17.90 9.66 4.38 0.60 0.26 0.05 0.01

5.9 2.8 2.0

Source: General Agricultural Census 1991 (Ankara, Turkey: State Institute of Statistics, 1994).

The Turkish Smallholder For our purposes, the small farm in Turkey can generally be considered as those farms with 10 ha or less. Medium-size farms might be those between 10 and 50 ha, while those above 50 ha shall be considered large farms.67 This size distinction is consistent with the work of others both within and outside of Turkey.68 Even though the smallholding peasant farm varies significantly across Turkey, there are some characteristics - practices, situations, obstacles - that they hold in common. While the differences between regions may be pronounced, intra-regional differences, even between neighboring villages, can be very important and develop from different histories and social contexts.69 Some advocate the importance of the regional dimension in examining Turkish agriculture,70 while others argue that each

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village in Turkey has its own distinctive characteristics, which makes it inpossible to find a typical or average village.71 Every case study of village and rural life in Turkey characterizes the Turkish smallholders in terms consistent with Netting’s and Ellis’s described above.72 Despite the spatial variation in the characteristics of the smallholder due to location, market opportunities, individual and community agency, local resources and environment, and local histories, they share some common features. For one, smallholders practice intensive forms of cultivation, despite the semi-arid environment. This is found across the country, from the highly diverse urban agricultural practices in Istanbul, to mountain and oasis-type agriculture in the east, to greenhouse production in Antalya, as well as across the inner Anatolian wheat region.73 With Turkey’s high population growth rate and low land-to-labor ratios, increased land values will continue to encourage land-saving technologies74 and land use intensification. Continued subsistence production, use of family labor, and the widespread reliance on off-farm income (including cottage industries, trade and craftsmanship, remittance payments, and seasonal and temporary migration) define smallholder production across Turkey. In small-scale Turkish agriculture, multiple uses of land and labor are the norm, with significant amounts of production for household consumption, exchange, and informal sale. The family is the central decision-making unit, enabling self-exploitation and the daily management of time, resources, constraints, and opportunities. Even when producing for the market, crop diversification is a key component. Commercial tea, hazelnut, citrus, grape, fig, tomato, cotton, and sugar-beet producers typically also cultivate a wide combination of wheat, barley, other grains like com, pulses, cotton, and a very wide variety of fruits and vegetables.75 In addition, animals provide milk - from which butter, cheese, yoghurt, and tarhana (a dried yoghurt mixture, used to make soup) are made - and meat, wool, and eggs. These provision the household, and surplus is often sold. Market Participation An examination of Table 9.3 shows the marketing ratios for a variety of agricultural products grown in Turkey.76 Cash- and export-oriented crops have high marketing ratios and tend to be spatially concentrated - certain regionally specific crops, such as citrus fruits, olives, com, figs, hazelnuts, tea, industrial crops, and oilseeds are localized in certain areas of Turkey. In contrast, staple and subsistence crops and produce - much more evenly distributed across Turkey - have lower marketing

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ratios. In the early 1950s, as much as 50 percent of smallholder production was for subsistence.77 Currently, the marketing ratio for wheat is 64, suggesting that one-third of national wheat production is not for commercial exchange but for household and community use, as seed stock and for informal exchange. Pulses have marketing ratios between 50 and 80. Generally, the marketing ratio for livestock - at between 30 and 50 - is significantly lower than for crops; the marketing ratio for eggs is 34 and milk is 19.78 Such low marketing ratios for basic and subsistence crops are consistent with a large peasant population, and are evidence of incomplete participation in inperfect markets.79 Table 9.3. Marketing Ratios of Selected Crops, Turkey, 1996 Marketin Crop or Product Green tea Tobacco

Soybeans Lemons Sugar beets Hazelnuts Bananas Sunflowers Strawberries Pistachios Oranges Rice Peaches Eggplant Carrots

g Ratio 100 99

Crop or Product Head cabbage All peppers

Marketing Ratio 82 82

98

Tomatoes Spinach Green lentils Dry onions Apples Olives Grapes Chickpeas Artichokes Figs Chestnuts Red lentils Sour oranges

81

97 97 96 95 94 94 93 92 91 86 86 85

81 80 80 78 78 77 76 76 75 74 72 71

Crop or Product Potatoes Pears/Quince

Apricots Dry beans Walnut Wheat Plums Maize Jerus'm artichoke Barley Rye Eggs Mulberries Black cabbage Mixed grains

Marketing Ratio 70 67 66 65 65 64 57 56 53 48 36 34 33 30 9

Source: Agricultural Structure 1996 (Ankara, Turkey: State Institute of Statistics, 1998).

Low marketing ratios and high levels of subsistence production should not be interpreted to mean that Turkish smallholders are either incapable of or uninterested in participating in commercial markets. Evidence suggests the contrary. Despite the low marketing ratios, the small farm plays a critical role in Turkish agricultural production. As Table 9.4 shows small and medium farms produce the vast majority of selected food and feed crops, as determined by the percentage share contributed by each farm size.

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Table 9.4. Crop Production: Percentage of National Crop by Farm Size, Turkey, 1991 Farm Size (ha)

Wheat

Barley

Maize

Chick­ peas

Dry Beans

Green Lentils

Red Lentils

Sun­ flowers

Dry Onions

Potatoes

< 0.5

0.2

0.1

1.0

0.0

0.4

0.0

0.0

0.0

0.3

0.6

0.5-0.9

0.7

0.3

4.4

0.3

3.0

0.0

0.0

0.2

1.6

2.1

1.0-1.9

3.5

1.8

11.8

2.3

9.2

0.3

0.6

1.5

5.8

6.3

2.0-4.9

14.9

10.0

33.4

15.0

30.7

1.9

3.0

11.7

23.3

25.8

5.0-9.9

19.9

15.8

18.1

26.7

23.1

7.8

11.6

23.7

27.3

23.0

10.0-19.9

22.9

21.2

10.0

24.3

21.5

18.3

20.5

29.9

24.8

29.1

20.0-49.9

21.4

22.9

8.9

18.3

9.9

25.5

20.3

22.9

15.8

9.8

50.0-99.9

6.5

8.5

3.4

4.0

2.0

12.1

13.7

6.9

0.7

3.0

100.0-249.9

5.2

9.7

3.4

2.6

0.1

19.2

18.1

2.0

0.5

0.4

250.0-499.9

2.8

5.0

4.2

4.1

0.0

9.3

7.5

0.3

0.0

0.0

500.0+

2.1

4.6

1.4

2.4

0.0

5.5

4.7

0.7

0.0

0.0

Total

100

100

100

100

100

100

100

100

100

100

Source: General Agricultural Census 1991 (Ankara, Turkey: State Institute of Statistics, 1994).

When opportunities in commercial ventures emerge, smallholders are anxious to be involved. Because they are short on capital, credit, and collateral, they are often unable to command market attention. But when the market provides an opportunity, desire is high. This was the case when Pinar milk, part of a Turkish conglomerate, began working with smallholders in the Aegean region around Izmir.80 Until the opportunity arose to produce for Pinar, which organized regional milk collection and assisted smallholders in increasing production, raising milk cows was uncertain and chaotic, and payment from govemment-owned-and-operated milk processing facilities was typically late, if it came at all.81 With steady and organized market integration, it appears that smallholders are able to keep the farm viable and make plans for the future. In contrast to milk producers that sell to Pinar, independent producers in the Mediterranean provinces are anxious to sell their grapes but have difficulty getting paid properly and on time.82 Until smallholders in the eastern Black Sea region began to successfully produce tea after World War Two, they were subsistence farmers who relied on long-distance labor migration to support the household, much like subsistence households

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253

throughout Turkey. Benefiting from increased national tea consumption, Rize has jumped from one of the poorer regions of Turkey to one of the richest in terms of agricultural land values.83 A tea plot of only half a hectare near the coast can generate enough income to support a small family; a big family is supported with off-farm seasonal employment.84 The desire to participate in the market and to overcome infrastructural obstacles is seen in the extent to which peasant smallholders will attempt to market their own produce. Agricultural produce and food from smallholder agriculturalists in the Black Sea province of Kastamonu, for example, are transported along personal networks and sold in informal weekly markets in Istanbul. Herbs, greenery, fruits, and vegetables collected and grown in the near countryside are found throughout Istanbul’s neighborhoods and bazaars, sold out of the backs of trucks, cars, and horseand tractor-drawn trailers. Millions of sheep and cattle from throughout Turkey, from as far away as Kars, are brought annually to Istanbul to be sold over a ten-day period - not unlike Christmas trees grown in the northern United States and sold in the southwest - to people who will sacrifice them during Kurban Bayram, the sacrificial holilday.85 These are just a few examples to demonstrate that the image of small-scale agriculture as backward, isolated, and market averse, shortchanges the diligence, desire, motivation, and contribution of the Turkish smallholder. Certainly, villagers also share a perception of what Keyder asserts - the villages that will survive are those that are well integrated into the national economy, that combine subsistence with the sale of labor, and in which there are a multiplicity of activities.86 Migration Turkey’s population in 1997 was 63 million. Between 1980 and 1995, the urban population in Turkey jumped from 44 percent to 70 percent of the total population, 25 percent of whom live in Istanbul, Ankara, and Izmir.87 Currently, 45 percent of the Turkish workforce is employed in agriculture.88 If 30 percent of the population is considered rural, the data suggest that virtually all of the rural population is employed in agriculture, and that few other employment opportunities exist. In addition, a major portion of urban residents still consider themselves agriculturalists. This is confirmed by reports that about one-third of the Turkish population supports itself on earnings generated from agricultural production.89 As Beeley and Kolars point out, by now nearly all of Turkey’s 30,000-35,000 villages are tied to the greater market economy.90 Permanent and temporary

254

Paul Kaldjian

migration, financial and other remittances, and expanding transportation and communications systems tie villages to urban settlements that, in turn, are connected to national-global systems of economic exchange. Few, if any, “market-ignoring” subsistence villages remain as surplus production in rural areas is expanded for sale beyond the village.91 When sufficient opportunities to produce for the market are unavailable, by virtue of not having enough land, labor, or access, off-farm income is required. Ayd n shows that as many as 40 percent of the families in some villages derive the majority of their income from non-agricultural work.92 Because there is very little work in rural regions other than that associated with agriculture, and what exists is low paying and seasonal, smallholders often migrate to support their peasant households. In addition to poverty and low income, other push factors may include the lack of social services, landlord domination,93 and civil conflict. Most accounts of Turkish rural life note the widespread necessity and practice of seasonal and temporary migration. Though Keyder believes that the importance of seasonal migration may have declined, he notes that it is the most common observed source of extra income in all of Turkey.94 As an extreme example of this practice and the motivation behind it, the Turkish press recently reported on the migration of hundreds of workers 1,600 km and fifty-three hours by train across Anatolia from Diyarbak r in the Southeast to Sakarya, on the eastern Black Sea, seeking two weeks of employment in the hazelnut harvest for less than $5 per day.95 In some villages, every family has at least one relative working in a major urban area, though in more economically diversified villages, the reliance on remittance incomes may not be as great.96 Though migration plays a major role in defining Turkish demographics, urbanrural migration in Turkey should not simply be thought of as a single lifetime event. Migrants to Istanbul, for example, often move between the city and the village for years before making a more permanent move. To millions, the city provides winter employment, while the village, where family plots are tilled in the summer, provides winter food. Thus, boundaries between the city and the countryside have become blurred. In fact, Beeley notes a network of villages and cities in Turkey within which Turks “seem to be perpetually on the move,” and in which the farmer feels a part of a national, urban-rural society.97 Similarly, Istanbul media sometimes use the moniker Istankdy (Istan-village), as against IstanZ>w/ (frompolis, Greek for city), in recognition of the presence of the village in the city.

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255

Productivity and the Smallholder In terms of the national food economy, one of the most important characteristics of Turkish smallholders is their ability to produce high yields per unit of land. Data indicate that maximum productivity per area is found on small and medium-size farms. Table 9.5 shows the national yield per acre for primary field crops based on size of holding. Only for barley and maize - Turkey’s two primary feed crops - and dry onions does it seem to be the case that productivity increases with the size of the farm98 Additional research is needed to show whether the yields attained for maize and barley are the result of production efficiencies of scale or of highly capitalized, Green Revolution-style input packages of hybrid seeds, irrigation schedules, pesticides, and chemical fertilizers. Even maize does not attain highest yields on the largest farms. Regarding field crops intended for human consumption, rye, chickpeas, red lentils, and the cash crop sunflowers have their highest yields on the nation’s smallest farms - those less than 2 ha. Even for dry beans, green lentils, and potatoes - which have their highest yields on slightly larger farms between 2 and 5 ha - small farms generate yields nearly as high or higher than Turkey’s largest farms. With the exception of the 500+ ha category, wheat has its highest yields per acre on farms of 10-20 ha, with smaller farms producing only slightly less than larger farms. The implication, once again, is that increased productivity does not correlate with farm size and that the path to meeting Turkish agricultural potential passes through the small and medium-size farms. The productivity of Turkish peasant farms is usually explained in terms of the ability to rely on and exploit family labor. Keyder argues that only those family farms that use non-wage labor are efficient enough to remain in a market where suppliers from widely divergent technical and social contexts produce similar goods.99 It is not, though, just the ability of household members to work below market labor rates, but the individualized attention that household labor is willing and able to give. Morvaridi found that increased sugar-beet productivity comes to households able to hoe three or four times in a season, rather than once or twice.100 Even the state sugar corporation prefers contracts with smallholdings - holdings above 1-2 ha are unmanageable due to the inadequate and unstable supply of factors of production such as female labor.101

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Table 9.5. Yield (kg) per Hectare, by Farm Size, Turkey, 1991 Farm Size Wheat Barley Maize Chick­ Dry Green Red Sun­ Dry Potatoes Rye (ha) peas Beans Lentils Lentils flowers Onions