From tractors to mobile phones: The persistent belief in a ‘technological fix’ for African agriculture
Although today’s access to information and the transfer of unprecedented digital technologies to the most remote places is celebrated as revolutionary and ground-breaking (Fong 2009a: 3709–10), the basic assumption of leapfrogging goes back a long way. In this view, social change is technologically induced and certain technologies, and with it certain ‘developmental steps’, could be bypassed. The underlying conception of ‘development’ is that of a linear, incremental and accumulative process, in which the leapfrog allows for a huge step along the path of modernisation, potentially even from a traditional agrarian society to a modern information society (Steinmüller 2001: 194 with reference to Rostow 1962).
As indicated above, agricultural development initiatives have long been characterized by a strong reliance on technological solutions – a phenomenon critically discussed as a ‘technological fix’ (Rosner 2004, Scott 2011). The idea of a ‘technological fix’ is usually associated with Alvin Weinberg, who called himself the ‘king of technological optimists’ (Weinberg 1993: 390). Working as a nuclear physicist and research director at the Oak Ridge National Laboratory during and after the famous Manhattan project (1940–1947),
1 The Manhattan Project was a research and development initiative led by the USA, the UK and Canada during World War II in which the first nuclear weapons were produced. It was named after its first headquarters in Manhattan and employed more than 130,000 people. he not only believed in the positive effects of nuclear technologies, but was also convinced, more generally, that technical innovations were superior in addressing social, political, or cultural issues. In his view, to allow for a technological fix social problems would simply need to be reframed as technical ones. Overall, he was convinced of ‘cheap technological fixes as a means to circumvent social problems’ (Weinberg 1965, cited in Johnston 2018: 630).
Even at the time Weinberg had many critics. As he notes himself in his memoirs, many of the critics emphasized that ‘technological fixes, because they attack symptoms but don’t root out causes, have unforeseen and deleterious side effects that may be worse than the social problems they were intended to solve’ (Weinberg 1993: 389). In effect, already in the 1970s, the term ‘technological fix’ was increasingly used in a negative way. As Rosner (2004: 3) points out, a ‘technological fix was seen as partial, ineffective, unsuccessful, threatening; one-sided as opposed to holistic; mechanical as opposed to ecological’. And even today, Scott observes it to be ‘a common tactic in public debates over science and technology […] to dismissively label innovations as mere technological fixes’ (Scott 2011: 207).
Nevertheless, the world today seems ever more dedicated to the advancement of technology, including the hope that this will contribute to solving some of the most urgent social and environmental issues. As Winner observed 35 years ago, ‘in the twentieth century it [has] usually been taken for granted that the only reliable sources for improving the human condition stem from new machines, techniques and chemicals. Even the recurring environmental and social ills have rarely dented this faith’ (Winner 1986: 5). In the context of development, where the traditional areas of health, education, governance, and agriculture are all currently experiencing a digital boost, this certainly remains true.
Looking at the history of agricultural development in particular, it becomes clear that technologies have long been assigned a major role in this (see Cherlet 2014, Fejerskov 2017 for more general historical overviews of technology and development). The ‘fetishization’ of science and technology as modernizing forces goes back to colonial history, as the mission of empires was already based on the transfer of Western knowledge and technologies to bring civilization to backward places and peoples (Schurr and Verne, 2017: 127–8). After the end of the colonial project and of World War II, the so-called ‘Truman Doctrine’, which marked the birth of international ‘development’ cooperation, was still subject to the understanding of ‘development’ through technological assistance. The aim of this doctrine was to train local experts to inject an unconditional belief in the power of Western science and technology into national ideologies (Staples 2006). The Technical Assistance Programs of the United States together with loans from the World Bank were aimed at offering ‘tech-fix’ assistance as a ‘big push’ (Rosenstein-Rodan 1943) to the then so-called underdeveloped countries. Mostly in the form of large infrastructurs and machines, such as tractors, this was supposed to strengthen economic activity; social well-being was supposed to follow automatically. The well-known example of the Tanganyika Groundnut Scheme developed by the British in the late 1940s, however, shows that the projects were not always as successful as hoped for (Wood 1950, Rizzo 2003).
As a result of this and other similarly problematic experiences that followed, the idea of appropriate technologies gained momentum in the 1970’s (Schumacher 1973, 1975, Dunn 1979). Fitting well into the turn towards grassroots development initiated in the context of McNamara becoming president of the World Bank in 1968, it was hoped that small-scale technologies that could be maintained by local communities could more efficiently contribute to poverty alleviation. An example of this in the Tanzanian agricultural sector is the power tiller, which is much smaller, more affordable, and more manageable on small field sizes than a tractor and has therefore been promoted and disseminated by the Tanzanian government.
But even allegedly appropriate technologies did not seem to provide satisfying results. Consequently, attention was shifted away from the technology itself towards access to technologies. In agriculture, this is well illustrated in the increasing role assigned to agricultural extension services, for example through the Training and Visit system of the World Bank which ran from 1974 to 1999 (see e.g. Anderson et al. 2006). Even though agricultural extension services often went beyond a mere production orientation and involved more general support for farmers including information on credit, market prices, input supplies, nutrition, or family planning, they nevertheless remained heavily reliant on science and technology. Yet, as Anderson et al. (2006: 6) have noted, ‘research scientists do not have strong incentives to interact with extension’. In combination with the lack of accountability of the extension officers, reflected in ‘low-quality and repetitive advice given to farmers’ (Anderson et al. 2006: 6), weak political commitment and financial unsustainability, critics concluded that the impact of extension was often insignificant.
In the wake of debt crises and IMF structural adjustment programmes during the 1980’s, non-governmental organisations (NGOs), multilateral institutions, and philanthropic foundations became key intermediaries for the transfer of Western agricultural knowledge and technologies. They became important promoters and suppliers of technology packages containing hybrid seeds, fertilisers, pesticides, herbicides, and training in agronomic practices based on US agricultural research (Fejerskov 2017: 9–10, Shepherd 2006: 399). The bottom-up ‘development’ initiative focusing on smallholder farmers under the banner of the Green Revolution for Africa, followed on from activities with a similar name and practices since 1941 in Mexico and later on the Asian continent (Fejerskov 2017: 10). However, driven primarily by the Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA), the Rockefeller and Melinda and Bill Gates Foundations, as well as seed and fertiliser companies, their main aim has been to integrate smallholder farmers into international value chains, while increasing their dependence on agronomic technologies (Brooks 2021: 7, Fejerskov 2017: 10).
At the end of the 1990s Information and Communication Technologies entered the scene. Since then, ICT4D has become the centre of discussions about the distribution of knowledge, including in agriculture. Mobile phones promise to address previous barriers to agricultural development. They are intended to facilitate communication between researchers, extension officers, and farmers. Farmers can be trained in improved practices, informed about market prices of agricultural inputs, or learn about weather developments and new risks in the face of global change. This is intended to make agricultural practices and markets more precise and economical (Chavula 2014: 281 f). As USAID has argued, ‘the seeds that worked for generations may not be the seeds that work today due to climate change, soil degradation, and water constraints. A farmer now can no longer rely on historical calendars and generational knowledge to drive decisions about purchases, seeds to plant, and mulches and fertilizers to use. He or she needs more timely and responsive support’ (USAID 2018: 3).
The most recent remarkable shift in this regard has been to move the human out of the centre of attention as the debate has moved from ICT for Development (ICT4D) to Data for Development (Data4D) (see e.g. OECD 2017, GIZ 2024). In the latest report by Dalberg Advisors and CTA on the digitization of African agriculture as well as in other recent publications, agricultural development is now increasingly linked to automation, artificial intelligence, and machine learning, leading to the proliferation of sensor technologies.
While this can just be seen as the most recent adjustment in a field that has long been characterized by a strong belief in technological solutions to increase agricultural output, we argue that a closer look at the turn towards ICT4D, Data4D, and D4Ag in particular shows that this shift not only entails an uptake of new technologies but also constitutes a change in character. In the following, we will therefore concentrate on this latest shift and consider the implications of embracing information and communication technologies to foster agricultural development. Indicating both the continuities and the specifics of this phase, we wish to highlight the side-effects of this continued reliance on technologies ‘as [if they were] the best trouble-shooters and problem-solvers for society’ (Weinberg 1966).