Field Report: Rethinking Smallholders, Power, and Agency in Agricultural Development

Our first field day included two visits to very different examples of what it can look like when several smallholders are working in the same area: one was a government-backed scheme shaped by external aid, and the other was a local cooperative effort. Though they operated differently, both sites revealed the wicked problems underlying agricultural development—especially around power, agency, and the assumptions baked into our solutions.

Our first stop was a scheme created by the Ghana Irrigation Development Authority (GIDA). They have approximately 250 farmers—most of them native to the area—who apply to work one hectare of land in a 500-hectare plot. There are four such schemes like this across Ghana.

It was originally developed by the Ghanaian government in the 1970s, but it quickly fell into disrepair. Eventually, Israelis stepped in and installed solar panels and an irrigation system. Water from a nearby river is pumped uphill into a reservoir, then carried back down to the fields by gravity.

As I looked at the reservoir and pumping stations, one of the researchers pulled me aside and asked how many pivots my family had. At least three came to mind. He told me that those three pivots on my family’s farm are roughly equivalent in capacity to their entire reservoir and pump system, which was engineering to irrigate for 500 farmers and is doing about half of that.

Because farmers are responsible for paying the electricity costs that power the system, they were hesitant to trust the irrigation schedule unless they could physically see the water being delivered to their fields. As a result, water use became more about visibility than need, and energy was often wasted just to prove that irrigation was occurring. This subtle but powerful behavioral dynamic highlights how infrastructure design must account not just for technical capacity, but also for the incentives and trust systems farmers operate within.

We were able to review a cost breakdown of farmer dues and were shocked to learn that 98% goes toward electricity alone. With only 2% left for equipment repair and no clear allocation for other inputs, we couldn’t help but wonder how these farmers were expected to get what they need to actually grow crops.

The scheme eventually failed and the Israelis left—but not for long. In the early 2000s, Korean development actors stepped in and revived the project with their own pumps and infrastructure. Today, the Koreans provide everything: seeds, fertilizer, irrigation schedules, chemical inputs, and technical training so that farmers can grow rice. While we don't know for sure, it would appear as though the farmers are unknowingly participating in research trials of new seed varieties. In essence, they’re not just growing crops, they’re generating data. While farmers do keep the profits, which significantly exceed their membership dues, their role is increasingly defined by compliance with a system designed by external actors. It raises important questions about autonomy; if you don’t choose what to plant, when to water, or what inputs to use, are you still a smallholder in control of your land, or a laborer embedded in someone else’s scheme?

According to the FAO, a smallholder farmer is “a producer who cultivates crops, rears livestock, or raises fish on a small scale, typically family-owned farms operating on up to 10 hectares (24 acres), often relying on family labor and keeping a portion of the harvest for household consumption.” It further notes that smallholders are characterized by family-focused motives such as favoring the stability of the household and using family labor for production.

While household stability might be the farmers’ motive for joining the scheme, the definition also implies that farmers are making decisions with their household in mind. In the GIDA system, that power is largely absent. This scheme reveals just how much external influence is shaping agricultural systems. Even when inputs are free, farmers are still paying a price to farm, just not in ways that show up on a balance sheet.

Unlike GIDA’s highly structured aid scheme, our second visit took us to a local farmer cooperative, which faced a different set of challenges—this time rooted in trust, economics, groupthink, and assumptions.

The cooperative includes over 60 farmers, with varying levels of land ownership. Notably, the local chief owns one-third of the total land. Though the model is more locally driven, power dynamics still play out unevenly. Pre-colonial and traditional hierarchies continue to shape who benefits most.

Beyond internal social hierarchies, the farmers expressed a deep distrust of service and pump providers—especially around pricing. It revealed a different kind of power imbalance: not one imposed from outside, but one created by local market actors. Despite their mistrust, the chief noted that the group was considering purchasing another pump—even though their current ones cost more to maintain than the profit they generate.

This decision puzzled me. But in hindsight, it reflected a classic behavioral economics problem: sunk costs. People often keep investing in something simply because they’ve already spent so much on it—even if it’s not working. That mindset, combined with a sense of obligation to stick with a familiar model, is deeply human. But it’s also costly. West Africa is littered with failed or poorly functioning irrigation projects, raising important questions about the sustainability of local infrastructure without proper planning or long-term support.

Together, these cases show that “local” doesn’t always mean fair or functional, and aid isn’t truly empowering if it replicates unequal power dynamics—whether from external funders or internal elites.

Sustainable development has three dimensions: environmental, economic, and social. While environmental and economic sustainability often dominate the conversation, this visit underscored how social sustainability is just as critical. At GIDA, social capital determines who is allowed into the scheme. At the cooperative, social trust, or lack thereof, shapes how farmers interact with service providers and navigate decision-making.

Another important layer to this is the ability to discern when a project offers real inclusion versus the illusion of it. GIDA’s irrigation design was top-down and overbuilt. The cooperative’s infrastructure may be locally run, but it’s economically unsustainable. So the real question becomes: is inclusion enough if the model itself is flawed? Inclusion should be about shared power and co-design, not just the local ownership of broken systems.

Whether it’s a development actor or even cooperative members, they often operate with a fixed mindset, limiting their responsiveness to the context of the issue. In the case of the coop, leaders failed to realize that just because something worked in one village doesn’t mean it will work in theirs. This problem extends far beyond smallholder schemes; aid systems often come with pre-defined solutions, even if they’re mismatched with farmer needs. Identifying what can be replicated and what requires a different approach is often overlooked. That’s where a grassroots, bottom-up approach becomes essential- not just in theory, but in practice.

Practitioners need to start by building trust and investing time in listening before designing, engaging directly with farmers and local leaders to understand their realities, not just their resource gaps. Co-designing solutions with those who are most impacted, from input systems to irrigation models, ensures the design reflects actual needs, constraints, and aspirations. Practitioners should also create feedback loops, so projects can evolve and adapt rather than locking into rigid blueprints. And perhaps most importantly, they need to recognize local knowledge and decision-making capacity as assets to be managed.

Here’s where it gets complicated: sometimes when you ask communities what they see as their most pressing needs, their answers don’t align with what you observe. That disconnect can be hard to navigate. I often find myself stuck, unsure whether that’s a moment to educate or to listen harder. I haven’t figured out where that line is yet. But I’m starting to think the answer isn’t choosing one or the other, it’s learning how to hold space for both.

In both the GIDA and coop settings, the traditional image of a smallholder farmer—someone who owns their land, chooses their crops, and manages their production doesn’t quite hold up. In the GIDA scheme, farmers don’t choose what to grow or when to water; they follow a structure determined by the scheme and external actors. If a farmer can’t make key decisions about their production, are they truly a “farmer,” or are they more like labor within a larger system?

The same tension exists in the coop. While farmers may technically have more autonomy, they’re still bound by economic constraints like using pumps that cost more than they generate in profit. Of course, the foundation of economics is that people use limited resources to meet unlimited wants, so all farmers regardless of scale face constraints. But what stood out most in both cases was not just the constraint itself, but the lack of control over the production system. When agency is missing, can we still call these systems successful, no matter how well they perform on paper?

Ultimately, what these two sites revealed is that the heart of agricultural development lies not just in technology or financing, but in structure, agency, and power. Structure determines who gets access, who makes decisions, and how systems operate. Agency reflects whether farmers have real choices or are simply implementing someone else’s plan. And power shapes every layer of that equation, from global donors to local chiefs. Without awareness about how these forces interact, even well-intentioned interventions risk reinforcing the very inequities they aim to solve. True progress requires reimagining systems where structures enable agency and power is shared rather than imposed because only then can agricultural development be both equitable and enduring.