The FAO estimates that if women had the same access to productive resources as men, yields on their farms could increase by up to 30%.19 But they don’t. In an echo of the introduction of the plough, some modern ‘labour-saving’ devices might more precisely be labelled ‘male labour-saving’ devices. A 2014 study in Syria, for example, found while the introduction of mechanisation in farming did reduce demand for male labour, freeing men up to ‘pursue better-paying opportunities outside of agriculture’, it actually increased demand ‘for women’s labour-intensive tasks such as transplanting, weeding, harvesting and processing’.20 Conversely, when some agricultural tasks were mechanised in Turkey, women’s participation in the agricultural labour force decreased, ‘because of men’s appropriation of machinery’, and because women were reluctant to adopt it. This was in part due to lack of education and sociocultural norms, but also ‘because the machinery was not designed for use by women’.21
It’s not just physical tools that can benefit men at the expense of women. Take what are called ‘extension services’ (educational programmes designed to teach farmers science-based practice so they can be more productive). Historically, extension services have not been female-friendly. According to a 1988-9 FAO survey (limited to those countries that actually had sex-disaggregated data) only 5% of all extension services were directed towards women.22 And while things have slightly improved since then,23 there are still plenty of contemporary examples of development initiatives that forget to include women24 – and therefore at best don’t help, and at worst actively disadvantage them.
A 2015 analysis by Data2x (a UN-backed organisation set up by Hillary Clinton that is lobbying to close the global gender data gap) found that many interventions simply don’t reach women in part because women are already overworked and don’t have time to spare for educational initiatives, no matter how beneficial they may end up being.25 Development planners also have to factor in women’s (lack of) mobility, in part because of their care responsibilities, but also because they are less likely to have access to transport and often face barriers to travelling alone.
Then there’s the language and literacy barrier: many programmes are conducted in the national language, which women are less likely than men to have been taught. Due to the low global levels of female education, women are also less likely to be able to read, so written materials don’t help either. These are all fairly basic concerns and shouldn’t be hard to account for, but there is plenty of evidence that they continue to be ignored.26
Many development initiatives exclude women by requiring a minimum land size, or that the person who attends the training is the head of a farming household, or the owner of the land that is farmed. Others exclude women by focusing solely on farms that have enough money to be able to purchase technology, for example. These conditions are all biased towards male farmers because women dominate the ranks of poor farmers, they dominate the ranks of small-scale farmers, and they are overwhelmingly unlikely to own the land that they farm.27
In order to design interventions that actually help women, first we need the data. But it sometimes feels like we’re not even trying to collect it. A 2012 Gates Foundation document tells the story of an unnamed organisation that aimed to breed and distribute improved varieties of staple crops.28 But ‘improved’ is in the eye of the farmer, and when this organisation did its field-testing it spoke almost exclusively to men. Male farmers said that yield was the most important trait, and so that was the crop that the organisation bred. And then it was surprised when households didn’t adopt it.
The decision to talk only to men was bizarre. For all the gaps in our data we can at least say that women do a fair amount of farming: 79% of economically active women in the least developed countries, and 48% of economically active women in the world, report agriculture as their primary economic activity.29 And the female farmers in this area didn’t see yields as the most important thing. They cared about other factors like how much land preparation and weeding these crops required, because these are female jobs. And they cared about how long, ultimately, the crops would take to cook (another female job). The new, high-yield varieties increased the time the women had to spend on these other tasks, and so, unsurprisingly, they did not adopt these crops.
The only thing that development planners need to do to avoid such pitfalls is speak to some women, but they seem bafflingly resistant to this idea. And if you think the decision to design a new staple crop without talking to women is bad, wait until you hear about the history of ‘clean’ stoves in the developing world.
Humans (by which I mean mainly women) have been cooking with three-stone fires since the Neolithic era. These are exactly what they sound like: three stones on the ground on which to balance a pot, with fuel (wood or whatever else you can gather that will burn) placed in the middle. In South Asia, 75% of families are still using biomass fuels (wood and other organic matter) for energy;30 in Bangladesh, the figure is as high as 90%.31 In sub-Saharan Africa biomass fuels are the primary source of energy used for cooking for 753 million people.32 That’s 80% of the population.
The trouble with traditional stoves is that they give off extremely toxic fumes. A woman cooking on a traditional stove in an unventilated room is exposed to the equivalent of more than a hundred cigarettes a day.33 According to a 2016 paper, in countries from Peru to Nigeria, toxic fumes from stoves are between twenty and a hundred times above World Health Organization guideline limits,34 and globally they cause three times more deaths (2.9 million)35 every year than malaria.36 This is all made worse by the inefficiency of traditional stoves: women who cook on them are exposed to these fumes for three to seven hours a day,37 meaning that, worldwide, indoor air pollution is the single largest environmental risk factor for female mortality and the leading killer of children under the age of five.38 Indoor air pollution is also the eighth-leading contributor to the overall global disease burden, causing respiratory and cardiovascular damage, as well as increased susceptibility to infectious illnesses such as tuberculosis and lung cancer.39 However, as is so often the case with health problems that mainly affect women, ‘these adverse health effects have not been studied in an integrated and scientifically rigorous manner’.40
Development agencies have been trying to introduce ‘clean’ stoves since the 1950s, with varying levels of success. The initial impetus was to address deforestation41 rather than to ease women’s unpaid labour or to address the health implications of traditional stove fumes. When it transpired that the environmental disaster was in fact driven by clearing land for agriculture rather than by women’s collection of fuel, most of the development industry simply dropped their clean-stove distribution initiatives. Emma Crewe, an anthropologist at SOAS University of London, explains that clean stove initiatives were ‘deemed to be a failure as a solution to the energy crisis, and not relevant to any other development area’.42