At Ecological Farms, People Are Like Weeds — The More They Grow, the Better

Every garden holds a theory of beauty

and a morality of happiness.

— Santiago Beruete, Philosophy in the Garden

● Beijing Tianfuyuan Biodiversity Farm, where weeds and vegetables coexist and thrive. The farm is home to over a hundred species of weeds. Photo: Foodthink

Strangely enough, it was “weeds” that connected me to ecological agriculture. First, the weed as a problem. As a student of sociology and anthropology, I spent nearly a year doing fieldwork in rural areas. I found that although chemical fertilisers and pesticides had brought impressive yields, weed and pest control remained a headache for farmers. The more herbicide they used, the hardier some of the weeds became.

Second, the weed as a method. I have been an environmentalist since childhood, and I believe that “nature dislikes bare ground” — I would much rather see paved open spaces reclaimed by weeds.

And finally, the weed as a self. I have always been drawn to the inclusive ideal of “beauty in harmony with beauty.” In another sense, ecological agriculture is itself like a weed, challenging the boundaries of established thinking. And I, too, am one such weed.

As it happened, during my internship at Foodthink I visited more than ten ecological farms. The old confusions cleared, and my body and mind were filled with new experiences and fresh questions.

I. A Diverse “Ecosystem”

The extraordinary diversity of backgrounds and experiences among ecological farmers was my first impression of this community. Most are new-generation farmers who have returned to the countryside to start their own ventures — some are seasoned professionals from urban careers, others young intellectuals just starting out. Their fields of study vary widely: beyond agriculture, biology and engineering, many come from areas entirely unrelated to farming.

Each is driven by a different motivation — a farming-and-scholarship life, food safety, ecological conservation, family, or even community building — and each puts their own unique understanding into the practice of ecological agriculture. This shared vision draws people from far and wide, transcending the locality of production to build a common “ecosystem,” a garden thick with weeds.

● In 2019, dozens of ecological farmers from across the country attended the Farmers’ Gathering co-organised by Foodthink, the Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market and the Development Academy of China Agricultural University. Photo: Foodthink

Compared with conventional agriculture, ecological farms enjoy greater freedom in how they operate.

Conventional agriculture may seem to offer many choices, but in practice producers find themselves ever more reliant on pesticides and chemical fertilisers, while the inputs and techniques they truly control grow ever fewer.

Ecological agriculture sets a clear bottom line: no chemicals or GM seeds are permitted; cultivation must rely solely on biological and physical means to nurture healthy soil and farmland ecology, improving both yield and stress resistance. As for how to work alongside nature, there is no single prescribed method. This freedom brings challenges, risks and responsibilities, but also the space for creativity.

● Aerial view of Zhiliangtian Ecological Farm on the edge of the Tengger Desert.

A companion once said, “Every farm is the embodiment of its owner’s ideals.” I could not agree more. It is not just the farming method that matters: the choice of site, land planning, the scale of growing and raising, crop selection, and investment in infrastructure and labour all call for careful thought. After all, beyond economic returns, an ecological farm carries deeper aspirations for meaning.

Starting from one’s own family land offers a sense of security in both work and daily life, provided one has the understanding and support of one’s family. Choosing a site in a distant place opens up a wider range of possibilities — a blank canvas on which to draw up a blueprint.

II. Machinery or Hand Labour?

In Foodthink’s office, I often heard colleagues say that organic farms in Beijing are fiercely “competitive”. In this regard, Xiqing Farm and Xiaoliushu Farm are both typical examples and form a fascinating contrast. Xiqing Farm has just two polytunnels and a mere five mu of land. Apart from hiring temporary workers and interns during the busiest periods, owner Wang Xin does the work himself. Dozens of crops are grown both inside and outside the polytunnels; none occupies much space, and no inch of land lies idle. Clearly, in such a confined space, there is very little room for machinery.

● Intensive cultivation on Xiqing Farm’s five mu of land. Below: intern Lü Lu at Xiqing Farm.

What struck me most was that Brother Xin had to climb onto the polytunnel roof every day for adjustments. In summer he adjusts the plastic sheeting; in winter he rolls out or packs away the thermal insulation quilts. On days of heavy wind, rain or snow, even the strong and sturdy Brother Xin is left completely exhausted.

I was puzzled: why couldn’t the polytunnel film be fully managed by machinery?

Farm intern Lü Lu explained that Brother Xin is particular about precisely regulating temperature and humidity in the microclimate — crucial for preventing pests and disease. The farmer must use keen perception and on-the-spot judgement to operate the equipment, ensuring each crop receives the ideal amount of light and moisture.

● Climbing onto the polytunnel roof to make adjustments means the day’s labour is over. Photo: Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market

Xiaoliushu Farm, which also focuses on vegetable growing, is quite different.

Across its eighty mu, apart from a few polytunnels, everything is open-field cultivation, and the only labour force is Brother Liu and four farmworkers — so the need for machinery is naturally far greater.

The plots are divided fairly neatly into beds along the farm tracks, each planted with a different seasonal vegetable. Some plots lie idle after the previous harvest. In high summer, weeds seize every opportunity. But Brother Liu has his own labour-saving method: wider row spacing than most farms, allowing the walk-behind tiller to work the soil between the rows and chop the weeds up for compost.

● Brother Liu showing the farmworkers how to run guide strings for new seedlings.

When we arrived at Xiaoliushu Farm in June last year, Brother Liu was showing four farmworkers how to run guide strings for the new seedlings so they could be staked later. After much explaining, the workers finally grasped what Brother Liu had in mind. Afterwards, he spoke plainly: “Farmers these days know less and less about how to farm.” The difference in production methods between the two farms has to do with how each owner views human labour and automation.

Brother Xin’s ideal is a world of small-scale intensive cultivation, where human labour brings a sensitivity and flexibility that machines cannot match. Brother Liu, on the other hand, considers people the least reliable resource and seeks by every means to put “replacing manual labour with machines” into practice.

III. Production and Life

Farms like Xiqing and Xiaoliushu, purely for production, have no accommodation or cooking facilities, so coming to work on the farm feels much like going to an office job. They look especially plain — nothing but plots, polytunnels and a storage shed, with no decoration to speak of. But for other ecological farmers, a farm is not just a place of production but a place of life, and a pleasant environment matters all the more.

● Tang Liang’s family working among the flowers. Photo: Foodthink

In March 2024, at my first Foodthink in-person sharing session, I was struck by the photographs Tang Liang, an ecological farmer from Sichuan, showed of his family working among the flowers. A “garden-style farm” is partly about improving ecology and deterring pests, but also an aesthetic of living — one that quietly keeps everyone in good spirits as they work.

Sister Yan Ping’s Xingfuguo Hundred-Herbs Garden in Guangxi and Sister Yuhu’s Guiling Farm in Yunnan have already taken on the character of a food forest.

Despite the considerable thought that went into the initial design and construction, as the farm ecology matures, less and less human intervention is needed. A food forest substitutes diversity for scalability; faced with the beautifully layered vertical structure of canopy, shrubs, herbs and ground-cover plants, machinery has very little use.

At Guiling Farm, only a mower is of any practical use. At the Hundred-Herbs Garden, the closest thing to a machine is the electric farm cart. Outside of busy periods, the daily routine is simply to wander around the farm, tend to what needs tending, harvest crops or wild greens for a meal as the season calls — at once keeping a human presence within nature. Work and life become almost one, serving as both recuperation and practice.

● Sister Yan Ping and ecological farmer Wang Pengcheng from Guangzhou in the Hundred-Herbs Garden.

● Sister Yuhu showing us around Guiling Farm.

The ecological farms described so far are primarily individually run or family farms. Others feature more complex functional zoning, staffing structures and spheres of influence — for instance, Little Donkey Community Farm, Phoenix Commune, Yuefeng Island and Lexiangu Community Farm.

Beyond production areas, these farms also house dining and accommodation facilities, indoor and outdoor activity spaces, member-leased plots and a wider variety of ecological landscapes. This puts their management philosophy to the test.

The larger and more complex a farm grows, the harder it is to sustain a family-run model, and it must redefine its relationship with society and the market. Whether to move towards corporate, commercial, large-scale operations, or to preserve cooperative economics and broader social participation as far as possible — that is the choice every farm must confront.

As one of the pioneers of ecological agriculture in China, Little Donkey Community Farm has the deepest historical roots. Walking in, what struck me first was its ecosystem: the interweaving of farmland, forest, wetland and environmentally conscious living, as though a miniature universe of pastoral ideals had been gathered in one place.

● A little garden at Little Donkey Community Farm.

Garden-style landscapes offer rich ecological niches not only for wildlife but also for social participants. The involvement of diverse actors — local farmers, consumers, volunteers and entrepreneurs — in co-building the farm is itself a weed-like force, causing Little Donkey to differentiate into a richly layered “garden within a garden”.

Members’ small vegetable plots are staggered and interlaced, and the farm also leases larger tracts of land to certain clients, creating distinctive creative spaces each with its own character: edible gardens, craft workshops, nature education venues and more.

It is hard to imagine that when Little Donkey Farm was first established, it relied on “delivery share and labour share” as its “two legs walking”, with most plots yet to be developed. After two difficult transitions, it abandoned the home delivery model and set about building a community farm centred on agricultural experience and educational demonstration.

● Member vegetable plots at Little Donkey Community Farm.

The other path it once tried — commercialisation — briefly shook the philosophical foundations of Community Supported Agriculture (CSA).

If one focuses solely on providing standardised products and services to cater to ever more discerning consumers, one is bound to pale in comparison with large-scale fresh-produce suppliers. More importantly, this sacrifices the deep participation, communication, trust, emotional connections and shared-philosophy education between producer and consumer, and between people and the land.

Perhaps, in the end, ecological agriculture cannot and should not become a plantation, but a garden thick with weeds.

● The Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market, held every Saturday at the Shangri-La Hotel, is also a network of mutual support and cooperation among ecological farmers and consumers from around Beijing. Photo: Beijing Organic Farmers’ Market

In reality, no ecological farm is perfect. Under market pressure, ecology, community welfare and human relationships prove rather fragile in the face of profit. Conversely, it is precisely this vulnerability that inspires the vision of a happy land, where like-minded people, through cooperation and mutual aid, build a more resilient social ecology on the basis of seeking common ground while respecting differences.

After visiting around ten ecological farms, I feel they seem to have a life of their own. At first, it is a seed carrying the dream of a good life. Then it grows haltingly, testing and being tested by its surroundings. Adjustments in planting and breeding plans, the building up of soil and ecology, adaptation to climate change, shifts in business models — all leave their mark upon it.

These experiences may make farm development less than fully satisfactory, but they also draw together a greater diversity of life trajectories, cultivating a mindset of embracing all things and tilling patiently. Through trial, error and adjustment, the farmer helps more suitable species take root in this soil; through the land’s produce, producers build trust and connections with more consumers, drawing them from the dining table and the market to the very source that nourishes their lives.

Like weeds and trees, people grow alongside the garden.

Foodthink Author

Anael

A master’s student in anthropology, whose research focuses on rural areas and agriculture, with interests drifting between political economy, multispecies relations and emotion or morality. Hoping to become a practitioner of rural community development and ecological construction, seeking different possibilities for connection in the weed-choked Anthropocene.

Unless otherwise stated, all photographs are by the author

Editor: Ze’en

I. A Diverse “Ecosystem”

II. Machinery or Hand Labour?

Published by Foodthink