How a Taiwanese Food and Farming Magazine Survived 22 Years Without Contributor Fees?

Throughout its more than two decades of publication, 《青芽儿》 has featured a wealth of articles across these five columns. I can proudly say that I was among the earliest writers in Taiwan to introduce innovative food and agricultural practices such as “slow food”, “community-supported agriculture” (CSA), “farmers’ markets”, and “eco-tourism”.

III. Submissions and Funding

Over time, I realised this goal would be hard to achieve. Many farmers have plenty of ideas and deep practical experience, but they are not accustomed to writing. Put another way, they simply haven’t had much of a relationship with the written word. To them, picking up a pen to write a hundred characters felt far more tedious than shouldering two bags of rice.

As a result, our main contributors became younger “agri-food practitioners.” Most hold degrees from universities or postgraduate institutes, bring frontline experience, care deeply about these issues, and have the ability to tell stories about themselves and others.

It is extremely difficult for farmers in Taiwan to organise themselves and make their voices heard. Most existing agricultural organisations are either government-run or set up with government assistance. There are, however, some grassroots groups focused on food and agriculture, such as the “Taiwan Housewives Alliance Lifestyle and Consumer Cooperative” (hereafter the Housewives Alliance) and “Upstream & Downstream News & Market” (hereafter Upstream & Downstream).

Initially, the Housewives Alliance had around 20,000 to 30,000 members. The outbreak of food safety scandals in 2007–2008, involving clenbuterol (“lean meat powder”) and melamine-tainted infant formula, saw that number jump rapidly to 80,000 or 100,000. Many new members were not necessarily concerned with agriculture; what they wanted was clean, safe food. Consequently, the Alliance has continuously trained new members, aiming to raise their awareness of food and farming issues and foster a cooperative spirit.

Upstream & Downstream has also done an excellent job. Their editorial team consists of professional journalists, many of whom are graduates in sociology and anthropology. They not only provide news and in-depth investigative reporting on public issues such as agriculture, food, and the environment, but also serve as a distribution platform for small-scale farmers, supplying consumers with healthy, locally grown produce.

The contributors to Qingyae are primarily agri-food practitioners. For them, writing is not just about sharing; it is a process of sorting through and clarifying their own—or others’—lived experiences. Some authors had never written an article before. Seeing their work published in Qingyae brought them great joy, even without any payment for their contributions.

Someone once asked me, “Ah Wei, how have you managed to keep going for twenty years?”

In truth, I don’t see it as “persevering.” If it had truly felt like a grind, I would have given up long ago. Reaching this point has been somewhat unexpected, sustained entirely by the support and help of countless people along the way. That support comes from the authors who contribute to the magazine, as well as readers who quietly provide funding. Together, they supply the two most essential material conditions for running a publication: submissions and finances.

When I ask for contributions, many people gladly agree. In a way, I’ve become Taiwan’s biggest “creditor,” with people everywhere owing me articles.

My requirements for submissions are fairly relaxed. I often tell authors, “If you’re willing to write 50,000 words, I’ll happily publish 50,000 words.” Of course, word count isn’t the point. What I hope for is authenticity and vitality in their writing, with stories told fully and richly.

Even when unexpected issues arise—such as four or five out of ten commissioned pieces falling through at the last minute—I can usually call on friends to fill the gaps quickly. For this, I am deeply grateful to our contributing authors, who have ensured that Qingyae has never run short of material.

Then there is the matter of funding.

I have always wanted Qingyae to be a straightforward publication dedicated to serving farmers, rather than a commercial magazine. Each issue is printed in a run of 1,000 copies, with seven or eight hundred distributed free of charge.

Since the magazine itself is free, its operations have always relied on sponsorship. Our principle is simple: if you enjoy Qingyae, please contribute generously if you can afford to; if you cannot, it is yours free of charge. Additionally, we generally do not accept donations from farmers, students, or those whose values do not align with ours. The running costs of the magazine cover mainly printing, postage, and a small amount of miscellaneous expenses.

I once set a personal limit at NT$100,000 (roughly ¥22,000) — if the annual shortfall ever exceeded that figure, I would cease publication the following year. Over the past seven or eight years, despite a worsening economic climate, the loss has never breached that threshold, so we have kept publishing.

Now that we are in the digital reading era, running the magazine inevitably raises the question of transitioning from print to online formats.

*Qingyuer* has always remained steadfast in print. Partly, this is because I simply prefer physical publications — they feel tangible and concrete. But they are also far more practical for our farming readership. We deliberately use a large typeface so that farmers can read the content comfortably without needing reading glasses.

In recent years, with the help of several new volunteers, we have also begun sharing magazine content on Vocus, an online platform.

Since January 2022, our volunteers have held an online discussion on the first Monday of every month to decide the theme for the issue. We then curate articles from the past 100 editions that relate to that theme and upload them to Vocus for readers to enjoy free of charge.

IV.“All kinds of new things are emerging”

That reflection has since turned into action, giving rise to the ‘Local Produce’ initiative by the Guangxi Ainong Association, and the ‘Local Diner’ in Yunnan.

The ‘Local Produce’ restaurant in Liuzhou began with a focus on regional agricultural products and has gradually evolved into a rural practice with considerable social impact. While its direct connection to *Qingyuer* may not be obvious, I feel there is a definite kinship between the publication and the inspiration behind it.

In Taiwan too, a fair number of young people are keen to move to the countryside and work in ecological agriculture. Some are second-generation farmers with family land; upon returning home, they can clear and prepare the fields to transition to ecological methods. Others, however, must rent land to farm.

Renting land has never been straightforward. If you spend three years improving the environment and getting the fields ready, only to have the lease expire and the land reclaimed, all that effort comes to nothing.

Against this backdrop, some have begun to explore new models of agricultural development, bringing together young people eager to farm ecologically with available land. Lai Qingsong, for instance, has promoted environmentally friendly farming in Yilan and guided many young people into agriculture.

Initially, Lai introduced the Japanese Kometō Club (Shareholder Rice Club) model to develop Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) in Yilan, where members prepay for a share of the rice harvest and share the risks of natural disasters with the producers.

In practice, running the Shareholder Rice Club proved extremely difficult; the pressure on a single person managing hundreds of members is easy to imagine. Lai therefore decided to pivot, dedicating more of his energy to attracting young people to farming.

Through years of working alongside local farmers, Lai earned their trust. They were willing to let him manage their land, which in turn provided young farmers with opportunities to learn and practice. He also partnered with “Two Hundred Jia”, an initiative founded by Yang Wenquan, a PhD in Urban and Rural Planning from National Taiwan University. Yang was responsible for teaching agricultural techniques to the youth and helping them secure land.

Over time, the free-support model began to show its flaws. Consequently, a few years ago they established “Slow Island Life Limited”, charging a fee for their services to ensure the system could operate sustainably.

Over the past two decades, Lai has guided some 300 to 400 young people into agriculture across Yilan, with more than 100 joining the initiative in Shengou Village alone. As older farmers gradually step down, young growers take over their land and know-how. A new farming community is slowly taking shape, breathing fresh life into the countryside.

Across the food and agriculture sectors in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and the mainland, there are many more pioneering initiatives along these lines.

Whatever the future holds, I firmly believe that social progress is propelled by countless modest forces and dedicated, down-to-earth individuals, much like those behind *Qingyaer*. Though seemingly small, they persist like wild grass, growing resiliently alongside new developments and quietly fostering meaningful change over time.