Nagaland revives ‘Living Morung’ model to counter extractive agriculture through indigenous agroecology and community-led conservation

The ‘Living Morung’ is a sacred grove-cum-community learning center in Naga tradition, where elders transmit agroecological knowledge, seed conservation, and ecological ethics across generations. Unlike Western scientific reductionism, this model treats farming as a spiritual and social practice, integrating biodiversity with cultural identity. Its revival challenges the commodification of seeds and land, asserting indigenous epistemologies as foundational to ecological balance. However, its institutionalization risks being stripped of its radical roots if co-opted by state or corporate interests.

The ‘Living Morung’ system emerged as a response to the region’s shifting cultivation (jhum) practices, which were systematically disrupted by British colonial forest policies in the 19th century. Post-independence, state-led agricultural programs promoted Green Revolution technologies, marginalizing traditional knowledge in favor of high-yield monocultures. The 1960s ‘Naga Hills Agricultural Project’ and later ‘National Mission on Sustainable Agriculture’ further eroded indigenous systems by tying subsidies to chemical inputs, creating dependency and soil degradation.

Globally, indigenous agroecological systems like the Andean ‘Chakra’ or the African ‘Farmers’ Seed Network’ demonstrate how decentralized knowledge networks outperform industrial models in biodiversity and climate resilience. In India, the ‘Beej Bachao Andolan’ (Save the Seeds Movement) in Uttarakhand has successfully revived traditional seed varieties, reducing farmer debt and improving nutrition. These parallels highlight a universal pattern: where indigenous knowledge is preserved, food systems are more equitable and ecologically stable.

Agroecological research confirms that indigenous farming systems enhance soil carbon sequestration, water retention, and pollinator diversity compared to industrial monocultures. Studies in Nagaland’s jhum fallows show that traditional rotational systems increase soil organic matter by 30-50% over 5-10 years. However, mainstream agricultural science often dismisses these systems as ‘backward,’ prioritizing yield metrics over ecological and social metrics like resilience and equity.

The ‘Living Morung’ is not just an agricultural space but a living archive of Naga cosmology, where farming rituals, oral traditions, and ecological ethics are inseparable. Artistic expressions like songs, dances, and textile patterns encode seed-saving knowledge, turning conservation into a cultural practice. This spiritual dimension contrasts with the secular, profit-driven ethos of industrial agriculture, which treats land as a resource rather than a sacred trust.

Reviving the ‘Living Morung’ could serve as a blueprint for climate-adaptive agriculture in the Eastern Himalayas, where erratic monsoons and soil degradation threaten food security. Scenario modeling suggests that scaling indigenous agroforestry could reduce Nagaland’s agricultural emissions by 40% while increasing household incomes through diversified crops. However, this requires policy shifts from input subsidies to knowledge subsidies, and from monoculture to polyculture.

Indigenous women, who manage 60-80% of seed banks and small-scale farming in Nagaland, are often excluded from decision-making in state-led revival programs. Elderly farmers, who hold the most knowledge, are sidelined in favor of ‘modern’ experts, reinforcing intergenerational knowledge gaps. The programme’s focus on ‘cultural preservation’ risks tokenizing marginalized voices without addressing the structural inequalities that limit their agency in shaping agricultural policy.