A note from Mecca Howe, PhD: This blog article was written for an undergraduate class assignment for my Food, Culture, and Nutrition class (Spring 2026) at UNC Charlotte. The course explores food and nutritional anthropology through a biocultural lens to understand why we eat what we eat and how food makes us human. For their final project, students were asked to write a blog article on a topic from the course that resonated with them. The assignment encouraged them to combine lived experiences and self-reflection with evidence-based research to tell a compelling story, ultimately building skills in writing for public audiences. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I did!
Zak Choukri
UNC Charlotte
It was the summer of 2019. The air was dry, with temperatures exceeding 100°F. I sat under a plum tree watching ants move toward the fruit above. There was a strange peace in it, even as boredom slowly ate away at me and my body heated up like a thermos. I kept wondering how anyone could live with heat like this. No AC, no water nearby. Even drinking meant a long trip down the mountain to the river basin that named my village, filling large plastic jugs and rationing them until the next trip. With no plumbing, my family’s village relied on sealed stagnant water in barrels to irrigate crops, cook, bathe, and drink.
It wasn’t what I was used to, but it gave me a deeper appreciation for what I take for granted every day. After four days in the Atlas Mountains, it was time to say goodbye. My great aunt came to me and my twin brother with a gift, simple yet heavy with meaning: a handwoven basket of freshly picked figs. Fruit had always been an easy, almost effortless pleasure for me in the US, and I had grown unappreciative of the labor, time, and effort it actually takes to produce.
She pressed the basket into my hands with insistence. My uncle tried to refuse on our behalf, saying he could easily buy one in the market. But she wouldn’t take it back, knowing this basket could cover a month of their expenses if sold. I only realized later the weight of what she had given us. The figs were not meant as a gift. They were meant to be sold.
With years of drought and declining yields, that basket may as well have been her livelihood. Her gesture was not only love, but a quiet recognition of loss. It carried more than fruit. It carried the pressure of a changing climate and the fragile future of Moroccan agriculture.
The agricultural system in Morocco has been growing and straining, caught between the intersection of climate change and the increasing dependence on chemical pesticides. With rainfall increasing in scarcity and unpredictability over the years, more Moroccan farmers have had to turn to chemical pesticides to maintain their shrinking crop yields for the sake of survival. These chemical pesticides do keep their promise in protecting what yields remain. However, it comes at the cost of dangerous trade-offs. With increasing use of pesticides and the worsening effects of drought due to changing climates, experts are concerned about the threat to public health and Morocco’s future standing in the global food system. (4)
In the summer of 2025, I had the opportunity to go on a study abroad trip to Morocco. When I landed, I found that many Moroccans were upset and concerned due to Eid Al Adha being cancelled because drought had caused a significant decline in lamb production. A religious holiday celebrated by millions yearly was paused under the king’s authority to protect livestock for future generations. This was not just an economic disruption, but a cultural rupture. For thousands of years, Moroccan Muslims have celebrated Eid with family and friends, sharing fresh meat and reinforcing community through tradition. Now, for only the second or third time in Morocco’s modern recorded history, Eid Al Adha has been canceled due to drought. These traditions, once stable for centuries since the spread of Islam to North Africa, are now under threat from environmental collapse.
In response to these pressures, Moroccan farmers have dramatically increased their use of pesticides. According to Agropages, Morocco’s pesticide imports rose from 5,000 tons in 1986 to over 24,000 tons by 2017 (4). This shift reflects a broader issue often described as “chemical insurance.” With rainfall becoming more unpredictable and soil moisture declining, farmers feel pressured to rely on chemical pesticides to protect shrinking yields under climate stress. While pesticides may stabilize production in the short term, they largely treat the symptoms of climate change while intensifying long-term consequences.
The environmental impact, as well as the impact on public health, is already visible. Key sources of water are being polluted by the chemical runoff of these pesticide pollutants. Take the Sousa River and the Sebou River as examples. These two sources of potable drinking water that many rural communities depend on have had high levels of chemical runoff. Many of these communities don’t have adequate sanitation facilities, leaving them at a bigger threat of poisoning. When contamination reaches this level, it changes from an agricultural problem to a public health threat.
The human cost of this issue extends beyond contaminated water. Many farmers report pesticide poisoning, which is not uncommon, especially in rural communities where education is limited and regulations are not enforced. Because of this lack of education, many farmers are not made aware of the long-term dangers tied to the chemicals they use. These communities also lack protective equipment, which is often impractical to use in extreme heat. With limited knowledge and low literacy levels, many farmers in Morocco fall into a paradox where the very tools meant to sustain their communities are slowly and quietly undermining them.
At the same time, pesticide use continues to increase as the land itself is changing. Continuous use of agrochemicals depletes soil quality and reduces the fertility of the natural ecosystem. Over time, this creates a vicious cycle where soil degradation weakens crops and makes them more vulnerable to pests and disease. In response, farmers increase chemical input to protect shrinking yields. Combined with worsening drought, pesticide use is further accelerating agricultural instability and the exhaustion of land.
Morocco’s place in the global food system adds further pressure to this situation. The European Union is Morocco’s largest export market for agriculture. However, the EU enforces strict Maximum Residue Limits (MRLs) on agricultural imports. These regulations are meant to protect consumers from pesticide exposure, but they also place heavy economic pressure on Moroccan farmers and producers. Crops like tomatoes, citrus, and others are increasingly rejected as they fail to meet these standards. For farmers already struggling with climate stress, this adds another layer of uncertainty and financial risk.
When money is impacted, systems respond. The Moroccan government has introduced policy initiatives aimed at modernizing agriculture and improving sustainability. The Green Morocco Plan, launched in 2008, focused on increasing productivity and competitiveness. While it achieved notable gains, it also increased reliance on chemical-based farming practices. (2) In response, Morocco launched Generation Green in 2020, running through 2030 (3). This strategy places greater emphasis on environmental protection, sustainable practices, and human development (2).
International organizations have helped make Generation Green possible. A $250 million loan from the World Bank, along with technical guidance from the Food and Agriculture Organization, has supported the promotion of Integrated Pest Management (IPM). (1) This approach aims to reduce reliance on chemical pesticides by combining biological controls, crop rotation, and other techniques. While promising, IPM will not be effective without strong infrastructure, education, and consistent policy enforcement.
Morocco also needs stronger regulation in agriculture. The National Office for Food Safety (ONSSA), similar in role to the FDA, remains limited in capacity, especially in rural areas. If Morocco expanded testing facilities and strengthened monitoring systems, it would not only ensure food safety standards for exports but also improve the safety of food consumed within Morocco.
Besides policy and economics, this issue also touches deeper questions of cultural identity and knowledge. Traditional Moroccan agriculture was built on generations of ecological understanding, where farmers practiced crop rotation, water conservation, and natural pest control suited to local environments. The shift toward chemical-intensive farming represents not only technological change, but also a loss of ancestral farming knowledge. As these practices fade, so does a way of life tied to the land and rooted in balance rather than extraction.
Food in Morocco has long been associated with freshness, purity, and a direct connection to the land. This perception is now challenged by the presence of persistent organic pollutants (POPs), regulated under the Stockholm Convention, which remain in the environment and accumulate in food chains. (5) This raises concerns about long-term health effects and the possibility that traditional foods, central to cultural pride, may carry invisible risks.
Morocco’s agricultural future is shaped not only by crops and chemicals, but by its people, traditions, and choices. Climate change has introduced new challenges, yet responses are not fixed; policy, education, and community engagement can shift the country toward a more sustainable path. The pesticide issue reflects a deeply interconnected system shaped by climate change, global trade demands, and public health gaps. Addressing it requires a holistic approach that recognizes how these forces overlap.
A greener Morocco is entirely achievable. By investing in sustainable farming, strengthening regulations, and revitalizing traditional agricultural knowledge, Morocco can ensure its food is safe for both the families who grow and consume it.
I return to the basket of figs that was given to me by my family. What seemed like a simple gift was, in actuality, a reflection of an entire system under pressure. Protecting the future of Morocco’s agriculture means ensuring that such gifts no longer come with hidden costs. It means creating conditions in which farms do not have to choose between survival and safety. It means preserving a relationship to the land that can endure even in the face of a changing climate.
Sources:
- Food and Agriculture Organization, and World Bank. Agricultural Reform and Integrated Pest Management in Morocco. Report. Accessed.
- Government of Morocco. Green Morocco Plan. 2008.
- Government of Morocco. Generation Green 2020–2030.
- Xie, Christina. “Pesticide Imports in Morocco.” Agropages. Accessed.
- Stockholm Convention Secretariat. Persistent Organic Pollutants: Regulatory Framework. United Nations Environment Programme. Accessed.
- United Nations Environment Assembly. Chemicals and Waste Management Reports. Accessed.
