A thin winter mist hangs above the rice fields of Jashore, soft enough to blur the horizon but clear enough to show Abdul Karim walking toward his plot. His phone buzzes with a new advisory from a digital agriculture app. The message looks hopeful, promising better fertilizer management. Karim reads a few lines, sighs, and pockets the phone. For him, the distance between what a screen suggests and what the soil demands has not yet narrowed.
Across the country, a wave of agricultural apps has entered rural life with confidence. These tools claim to guide farmers through weather predictions, pest management, market prices, and crop planning. Government agencies, private firms, and foreign donors present them as the future of farming—lean, efficient, and modern. But in the courtyards of villages, under tin roofs and along muddy roads where the mobile signal rises and falls like the tide, the experience is far more complicated.
Farmers say the promises sound grand but do not always match the reality they live with every day. Many downloaded the apps because someone recommended it, or because they hoped to learn something new. A recent field survey in Bogura, Rangpur, and Barishal showed that younger farmers adapted more easily. They enjoyed video tutorials and short tips. But older farmers often felt lost the moment they opened the app. Some said the language felt too stiff, the instructions too detailed, or the interface too crowded. Several complained of inaccurate weather alerts or generalized fertilizer advice that did not match the condition of their own plots.
A number of farmers said they preferred face-to-face guidance over digital messages. They trust the voice of an experienced extension officer or the opinion of a neighbor more than a screen notification. Trust, for them, grows from shared experience—something a mobile app cannot replicate. Others said mobile data costs and weak network connections discouraged them from relying on online tools. When a farmer cannot upload a photo of a diseased leaf or stream a video fully, the purpose of the app is lost halfway.
Agricultural officers share their own concerns. They explain that many apps use broad data sets and generalized models. Rainfall predictions are not always specific to a village, and disease-diagnostic features sometimes misidentify local crop conditions. If the input data is weak or delayed, the advisory becomes unreliable. Officers also point out that developers often design apps in urban settings, far away from the fields they aim to serve. Farmers rarely get the chance to share what they truly need, which results in tools that feel distant from the way farming actually works.
This gap becomes even sharper when it comes to market-price apps. Farmers said digital price lists often did not match what traders offered at local haats. Prices change hour by hour, and by the time an app updates its numbers, the rate in the real market may have already moved. When the difference becomes too large, farmers return to the networks they trust—family, neighbors, and traders. “The app can show me the price,” one farmer said, “but it cannot make the trader pay it.”
Still, the potential of digital agriculture cannot be dismissed. The survey found that farmers performed better when technology was combined with local training. When a field officer explained how to interpret the app’s advice and cross-check it with field conditions, the tool became useful rather than confusing. Farmers who received blended support were more confident trying new methods. Officers also noted that if apps included local dialect options, simpler wording, and fewer technical terms, farmers would adopt them more easily.
Effective solutions begin with listening to the people who work the land. If developers spent more time visiting fields, observing planting cycles, and hearing how farmers assess soil, weather, and pests, digital tools would become more grounded. Farmers have deep knowledge—often intuitive, built from experience—and when that insight is respected, technology becomes a complement instead of a replacement. Community-based data collection could also help apps become more accurate. Local youths could gather field-level weather and soil information, making predictions more reliable.
Transparent communication matters as well. Farmers should not be told that an app will fix everything. Instead, they should see it as one tool among many—helpful, but not all-powerful. When expectations stay realistic, trust grows steadily. Agricultural officers can serve as bridges between digital platforms and traditional farming wisdom. If they are trained to translate technical data into practical, local advice, digital tools can find their place more naturally.
Farming is a world shaped by soil texture, labor, risk, and the unpredictability of nature. No app can fully capture that complexity. A farmer may use a digital tool to check rain forecasts, but he still reads the sky before deciding whether to sow seeds. Technology can offer guidance, but the final decision always rests with the person who stands in the field.
Digital agriculture is not a miracle and not a failure. It stands somewhere in the middle—full of promise, yet still struggling to root itself in everyday farming realities. If app creators stay grounded in farmers’ needs, improve data accuracy, and build tools that speak in simple, familiar language, these innovations can truly support rural livelihoods. If not, they risk becoming another round of loud promotion with little impact on the ground.
Farmers like Abdul Karim do not ask for anything extraordinary. They want reliable information, tools they can understand, and support that respects what they already know. Whether digital agriculture becomes a meaningful solution or just another slogan depends on how closely its designers walk beside the people who cultivate the land.
