What does agricultural training without the sale of pesticides and fertilisers look like?
On 12 April, a week after the Grain Rain solar term, eastern Sichuan had seen several consecutive rainfalls. This provided relief from the drought that had persisted from the Lunar New Year into March, and the rice seedlings in the fields were nearing the time for transplanting.
That afternoon, Yuan Yong, a senior agronomist, arrived in Zhaizi Village from Jianyang City with his colleagues to inspect the growth of seedlings in cooperative plots and to provide technical training on rice cultivation for local smallholder farmers.
“I’m curious about one thing: why are the three of you willing to come and listen to our training today?” Yuan Yong asked the few farmers who had gathered. A gentleman surnamed Jiang broke the silence: “These days, we all want to try our hand at this ‘green food’ approach.”
No pesticides, no herbicides, no ploughing before transplanting, and covering the soil with straw after transplanting—this “green planting” in the eyes of the villagers is the no-till cover ecological rice cultivation technique that Yuan Yong has been promoting since 2010.
“Once the straw cover is complete, field management basically amounts to playing mahjong,” Yuan Yong’s Sichuanese humour broke the formal atmosphere of the venue, while simultaneously sparking my curiosity: would farmers accept a planting method so different from tradition? After all these years, how had they managed to implement this technique across various counties and cities in Sichuan?
And so, I came to Zhaizi Village to observe Yuan Yong conducting technical training for the villagers. A handful of elderly men and women sat sparsely in a farmhouse courtyard, responding to Yuan Yong’s ice-breaking conversation with few words. However, as the explanation unfolded, their discussion grew lively.
I. What is no-till cover?
Compared to conventional agriculture, the no-till cover method improves crop health and drought resistance, saves labour, and reduces external inputs such as pesticides and chemical fertilisers. On a blank sheet of paper, Yuan Yong began to draw diagrams while explaining the specific steps of field management.
First is the land preparation. This step ensures the field surface is level so that the seedlings can be transplanted and survive more effectively. The local custom is often to perform deep ploughing and fine harrowing, but Yuan Yong advises against this.
While ploughing can loosen the soil and improve aeration, it also destroys the soil structure and microbial life. Combined with the long-term use of pesticides and fertilisers, deep tilling further exacerbates soil compaction. Unhealthy soil has a diminished capacity to withstand extreme weather and diseases; “with soil like that, it’s hard to get by without pesticides.” Consequently, he has promoted a no-till strategy for many years.
A key step in land preparation is “trenching” (kaixiang)—digging a ditch every five chi (approx. 1.6 metres) within the prepared field for irrigation and drainage. Compared to traditional flooded planting, timely water management ensures the soil absorbs an appropriate rather than excessive amount of moisture.
Each ditch is about 25 centimetres wide—slightly wider than a hoe—and half a hoe-depth deep. A perimeter ditch is also dug around the field and connected to the internal trenches; the plots of land between the ditches serve as the planting beds. The mud excavated from the ditches is spread over the adjacent beds. “Land preparation is as simple as that.”
Compared to traditional rice cultivation, the labour for no-till cover rice is primarily spent on the additional trenching phase, but it eliminates the labour required for ploughing. As long as the straw cover is applied correctly, weeding is unnecessary. Furthermore, once the trenching is completed in the first year, no further labour is required for this task in subsequent years.
The hills of central Sichuan serve as a rice-oil rotation zone, where the residue from rapeseed oil extraction provides a natural fertiliser for the rice paddies. After spreading the rapeseed stalks as base fertiliser, the most critical stage follows: irrigation and transplanting.
The water depth in the planting beds must not exceed one centimetre. Once the water has slowly permeated the soil, transplanting can begin. Yuan Yong provides a very vivid description of the ideal soil water level: “When there is no longer a layer of water on the beds, and only a few trickles are left in the hollows, it’s time to transplant.”
The layout of the transplanting is also precise. Unlike traditional methods where several rows are planted in a plot with only one seedling per hill, Yuan Yong suggests planting only four rows per bed. Each hill consists of three seedlings planted in an equilateral triangle, spaced approximately 10 centimetres apart, with 10 centimetres between each hill.
“It looks sparse, but it actually isn’t,” interrupted Uncle Zhong, who had just returned from a game of mahjong, adding his thoughts for the others. Yuan Yong explained that this method provides better ventilation and light penetration, enhancing the tillering capacity of the rice. This transplanting method uses nearly 50% fewer seedlings than conventional methods and is particularly suitable for regions with limited sunlight.
After transplanting, the only remaining operation is the straw cover. The straw also comes from the rapeseed husks left over from oil extraction. Yuan Yong explained the numerous benefits of this step: weed control, increased fertiliser efficiency, raised soil temperature, and moisture retention. In cases of extreme drought, the soil maintains better humidity to resist the dry spell. “The whole process is just that simple.”
“This would be especially suitable if used on dry fields.”
“Exactly, just use the existing trenches as they are.”
“Right, right, it’s particularly suited for double-crop fields.”
Everyone chimed in, listing their own field types and analysing whether this model would work. As the atmosphere grew spirited, Yuan Yong took the opportunity to invite Uncle Zhong to share his experience.
Now in his seventies, Uncle Zhong has been collaborating with Yuan Yong for two years. In addition to emphasising that the steps must be followed strictly, he repeatedly warned everyone to reduce the use of chemical fertilisers and herbicides. “You panic the moment you see weeds, but you must not use herbicides. If you apply them even slightly incorrectly, it will harm both the seedlings and the crops.”
In Yuan Yong’s view, this problem is only temporary. If the field is chosen correctly and this system is followed consistently year after year, both soil quality and yield will improve. This is an effect they have verified over more than a decade of promotion. Among the farmers Yuan Yong collaborates with in other villages, the highest yield has exceeded 1,300 jin per mu. “They used an old variety they had saved themselves; even the experts from the Academy of Agricultural Sciences could hardly believe the yield when they came to measure it, and that was in a drought year.”
Therefore, when asked if he still had confidence, Uncle Zhong countered, “How could I not have confidence?” This year, he has found a new plot of land to implement the no-till cover planting.
After listening to the hour-long explanation, Mr Jiang was most convinced by the health philosophy and labour-saving operations of this technique, deciding to try it on two fen (approx. 666 square metres) of land. “I’ll gain experience this year, and next year I’ll expand it to seven or eight fen.”
II. A different promotion model
Yuan Yong explains that the promotion model here differs from previous “Home Action” initiatives. Compared to the door-to-door approach used with smallholders, the advantages of collaborating with the village collective are clear: lower communication costs and higher efficiency. As long as the village party secretary can be convinced, the technology can be implemented on a large scale.
Secretary Jiang, born in the 1980s, is a key figure in this transition. He first met Yuan Yong at a technical promotion meeting while learning about high-yield rice mulching techniques. Two years ago, seeking to revitalise the village’s collective economy, Secretary Jiang collaborated with Chengdu-based “Home Action” and adopted ecological no-till cover cropping.
“Before we arrived, he didn’t have a clear concept of ecological agriculture. However, he often attended external meetings and concluded that the successful model villages all had one thing in common: they were all practising ecology,” summarised Hu Xiaoping, head of “Home Action” in Chengdu.
Before 2022, Secretary Jiang had run the collective operation for a year, “but he suffered heavy losses because he spent too much on inputs,” Yuan Yong said. The key to ecological agriculture lies in reducing external inputs, rather than simply replacing chemical fertilisers and pesticides with organic alternatives.
In October that year, a 1.5-mu plot of ecological wheat, a joint effort, became an immediate success. Without any pesticides or chemical fertilisers and using the same no-till cover method, the yield reached 1,200 jin per mu—400 jin higher than the local conventional wheat yield, with fewer pests and diseases. That year, Secretary Jiang also took a gamble with several hundred mu of conventional collective wheat by forgoing pesticides, and the yield remained good.
The success of the ecological wheat built direct trust between the two parties. The following year, the collective expanded the area for ecological wheat and applied the technique to the rapeseed fields. This year, the collective’s rice paddies have also started using no-till cover cropping.
The rapeseed from the rice-oil rotation provides natural fertiliser and cover for the rice fields. This saves labour and reduces spending on inputs; not only are production costs tightly controlled, but pests and diseases are also rare, meeting the expectations Secretary Jiang had at the start of his partnership with “Home Action”.
Now, Secretary Jiang is more concerned with sales: “Before, I was afraid we couldn’t grow it; now, I’m worried we can’t sell it.”
To address this, Yuan Yong and his colleagues have been introducing him to the concept of graded commodity sales. Following their advice, Secretary Jiang started a WeChat group to engage existing and potential consumers of ecological produce. At every key stage of the farming cycle, Secretary Jiang shares updates on the crops and quality inspection data within the group.
In the third year of transitioning to ecological farming, Secretary Jiang still has doubts about ecological products and faces questioning from customers: “This costs a few yuan more—what exactly are the benefits?”
Although Secretary Jiang hasn’t yet found the right words to convince consumers, the improvement of the soil environment through ecological farming is tangible. After two years of collaboration, he has embraced the ecological farming philosophy of Yuan Yong’s team: “Through several years of returning straw to the field, the soil microbes have formed a virtuous cycle; it’s now completely self-sufficient.”
He also used these words to open his training sessions.
III. Technology in Service of Life
It is no easy feat to change the mindset of individual smallholder farmers.
Before the training session began, Yuan Yong accompanied Secretary Jiang to the village’s collective land to check on the seedling fields. These plots were tended by villagers employed by the collective. In some areas, the rice seedlings were struggling. Upon inquiry, it emerged that the villagers had applied an extra round of liquid manure recently, causing nutrient burn.
“A bit of diluted manure a week earlier, followed by some clear water, would have been perfectly fine,” Yuan Yong’s colleague remarked. He noted that in Shuanghe Village, where they had collaborated for over a decade, such issues no longer occurred; the villagers there had mastered these techniques.
Why was such a transformation possible in Shuanghe Village? I asked Yuan Yong.
He told me it was their first stop in promoting no-till cover cropping technology. In detail, it involved a completely different approach to the dissemination of technology.
When they first entered Shuanghe Village in 2010, they had considered common models such as “company + farmer” or “expert + association”. Ultimately, they decided to start with community engagement unrelated to technical promotion. By organising cooperatives to establish art troupes, senior citizens’ associations, and women’s associations, they encouraged villagers to hold Double Ninth Festival activities, square dancing, and singing competitions through interest-based groups.
Only after the village atmosphere had become vibrant did they begin promoting the ecological planting techniques of no-till cover cropping. By then, trust had been established between both parties.
“People believe that whatever we say must be for their own good,” Yuan Yong shared. “They stopped worrying about whether the technology might lead to lower yields; instead, they were happy that they now had a place to sing and dance.”
Over three years, the smallholders of Shuanghe Village accepted these technicians from the city and the production philosophy they brought. Today, this model is being replicated in more villages, such as the training session I observed in Zhaizi Village.
After the session, Yuan Yong and his colleagues rushed without pause to the nearby Baila Village. This year, “Project Home” provided Baila Village with a budget of 2,000 yuan to encourage the village’s women and elderly to come to the square for evening dancing.
“Currently, we need both promotion models,” he explained. Technical outreach to smallholders continues, while cooperation with village collectives proceeds in parallel. Developing the rural collective economy is currently the mainstream direction supported by local governments, and there is no shortage of young village party secretaries like Secretary Jiang who are willing to experiment; it is a trend that must be embraced.
Regardless of the promotion model, “Project Home” seems uninterested in joining the various debates currently surrounding ecological agriculture, nor are they solely concerned with the income increases resulting from technical application. Even the elderly farmers at the Xingzhai Village training session paid little heed to economic returns. Everyone was more concerned with the changes occurring in rural production and lifestyles throughout the process.
It was nearly dusk when I left Baila Village, and the evening village broadcasts were beginning. I recalled a personal account published by Yuan Yong.
He believes the function of agriculture lies in “eating”, not in “money”. Achieving comprehensive prosperity for farmers solely through the sale of agricultural products is immensely difficult. The nature of agriculture dictates that its primary functions are social—ensuring people have healthy, ecological food to eat—and ecological—reducing environmental pollution caused by industry—rather than economic—making money.
Following them through Jianyang, I felt another side of agriculture: beyond being viewed as an industry, it is also a way of figuring out how to live a better life.
Unless otherwise noted, all images are provided by the author
Editor: Ze En