Category Archives: Indigenous

Awaking to normality, an antidote for market control

Awaking to normality, an antidote for market control

René Mendoza Vidaurre[1]

“I am fine”, he says, while in the jaws of an alligator. Popular saying.

Every cloud has its silver lining. Old saying.

The parable of the “boiling frog” says that if we put a frog in a pot of boiling water, the frog will immediately jump out of the pot; on the other hand, if we put the frog in temperature that is low, and do not scare it, the frog will remain there; if we then increase the temperature, the frog will not do anything; the more the temperature increases, the more dazed the frog remains, and even though there is nothing keeping him from getting out of the pot, it will not leave; and ends up being boiled. Organizations (members and organizations) tend to be like the frog, in the face of sudden events (coups, electoral results, unpopular decrees) they react and take to the streets; while in the face of a gradual dispossession of their resources and even their own organizations, they tend to adapt, some even enjoy appearing to be victims, and when they realize it, they are already “boiled” like the frog.

In this article we present one of those organizations, the La Voz Cooperative, located in the municipality of San Juan La Laguna (in the Lake Atitlán basin), Sololá Province, Guatemala. We studied their process of awakening, and then, so that they might continuously keep themselves awake, and at the same time contribute to a formation with justice, we suggest an important collaboration between the cooperatives and the universities.

In 12 years they had completely “flipped the tortilla”

I visited them in 2004 and again now in 2016. In 2004 the historical tensions that existed in the municipality of San Juan and San Pedro over land and other resources were still felt, in fact some people from San Pedro continued buying land in San Juan and had the best coffee fields in the municipality; the chalet owners (mostly foreigners and people from the city of Guatemala) took over the shores of the lake, one of the 7 marvels of the world. The La Voz cooperative had their wet mill, they stood out for their frequent rotation of leadership, while the organic coffee yields of their members were equivalent to 60% of conventional coffee yields.

In 2016 the picture I found was very different. Some people from San Juan had purchased land and coffee fields from people from San Pedro and almost none of that previous tension between San Juan and San Pedro was felt. Hurricane Stan in 2005 and Tropical Storm Agatha in 2010 made the water level increase in Lake Atitlán, and with that a lot of land in dispute disappeared. The cooperative is changing; in addition to a wet mill, now they have a cafeteria where they roast 5% of their total coffee and they sell it packaged and in cups of coffee; 95% of the rest of the coffee they export; they have a clinic for women; they produce organic fertilizer to sell to their members; the coffee quality has improved (cup scores of 94 and 95) and their yield is the reverse of 2004, now their conventional coffee is equal to 60% of the per manzana yield of their organic coffee. Some of their members are buying land again.

“If you do not flip the tortilaa, it burns.” The cooperative had flipped the tortilla, taken a big leap, and along with the cooperative San Juan had also improved. What were the keys that openned the door of improvement for the cooperative in a matter of 12 years?

‘Hit rock bottom’ with the crisis, trust in themselves and move forward again in alliances

Paradoxically, the principal key was undergoing a harsh crisis and waking up right before “getting boiled.” Between 1993 and 1995 the cooperative received a loan for nearly a half million dollars from a social bank and two userers; and in that same period doubled the amount of their organic coffee exports, buying another 50% from third parties and passing it off as fair trade and organic coffee from the cooperative. The cooperative did not receive most of that loan, and did not receive anything for the shady deal for the other 50% of the coffee (earnings for the purchase and sale of coffee to a friendly market that was paying a good price + US$20/qq fair trade premium + US$30/qq organic premium). This obviously was possible thanks to the complicity of part of the board and the administrative staff, who acted behind the backs of the cooperative, even though they did do it in their name, with the complacency of the certifiers, banks and coffee buyers, who obviously saw the numbers double on paper and kept quiet.

“In just one period we disgraced ourselves”, said a member of the cooperative, while refering to the fact that the elections of the board members are every two years, and that one period was enough to “disgrace” the cooperative. In this period during which the temperature of the “pot” was increasing, “the frog” (the members) were calm, they did not perceive the change in temperature. The following period (next two years) the collectors arrived because they had fallen into arrears, the board members and the members were concerned, but the situation appeared to be under control. They needed one more period to realize that “they had exported double the amount”, it is then that they met in the assembly to ask the ex-board members what had happened, and analyzed the causes along with the members; and met with the banks, the certifiers, the buyers and the aid agencies. They worked to reach agreements, changed the organic certifier, and the members of the cooperative bodies began to look at the administrative management. Thus they freed themselves from being “boiled” like the “frog.”

Now outside the “pot”, the leaders look at their awakening in retrospect:

“If a member spoke well, we would say that that member was good, we would say let him be president, and we would nominate him for president. We would trust what the manager or president would tell us: “such and such a project is coming…sign here.” That is fine, we would say, and we would sign. We would not verify the minutes to see how it had been left. They only would come to tell us. We signed and we signed. There was no control over the travel allowance of the manager, nor over the salaries that they got. We let them sign the checks for the employees. The manager in one period was even the legal representative of the cooperative. We would change everyone in each period, there were meetings, but we did not know how to exercise those roles. The credit committee would allow the board to authorize the loans, and we would say that that was good. As the legal represenative the manager would negotiate and talk with the buyers and the banks; we were afraid to talk with a business person and we were happy that the manager did so. Going to the capital was something we really did not want to do…” (board member of the cooperative).

The members saw themselves as adapting to something that was making things worse for them. First, the “normal” (signing minutes and checks without verifying, naming board members and meeting without playing their roles, putting people who spoke up more into positions of responsibility, allowing the manager to be the legal representative, the administration to sign their own checks, the board or manager to authorize loans instead of the credit committee, avoiding conversations with buyers and the banks) emerged as “abnormal” for being from a cooperative. This is waking up. Secondly, realizing that the instigators for taking over the resources of the cooperative were from inside and outside the cooperative, this made centuries of beliefs evaporate about “the foreign auditor has the last word,” “the person with the college degree is trained to lead organizations”, that “we always need a patron” (someone who directs us “from above”), and that “we indigenous are not capable of speaking or traveling”. Third, the formality of the cooperative had absorbed them: that leadership rotation was the solution to corruption, and that the audit of international aid organizations ensured that everything was normal. “That is fine, it is fine”- they would tell them while reviewing the paperwork that the small mafia had organized. Fourth, they laughed when they realized that culturally as families they had closed themselves off to learning new ideas, they had said that “a ladino could not teach an indigenous about coffee”; and that idea had blocked them, they could hear them but not listen to them. Fifth, the force of the market (individual interest to maximize profits) was like the fire that increased the temperature of the pot, it was a logic that had penetrated the minds of the members and the fair trade organizations, and had connected them to the normal practices of the first point, the unfavorable beliefs of the second point, the demanding formality of the third point, and with that cultural prison of the fourth point. This is the environment that made them repeat to any visitor: “we are fine.”

With all these points and the decisions that they made, they had taken a giant step: waking up in time and getting out of the “pot.” Nevertheless, this did not guarantee them that they would not fall into another “pot”; in addition they were “half boiled” by the time they got out; the members did not trust their cooperative, while many aid agencies withdrew, and other suggested closing down the cooperative and founding another one. How did they rebuild trust and move forward again as a cooperative? They put their house in order, they defended themselves against legal suits, they negotiated their debts, and at the same time they invested and found good markets for their principal crop, coffee.

First, the cooperative learned the lesson that the associative side of the cooperative (board, oversight board and committees) had to understand AND manage the administrative side of the cooperative (cafeteria, exports, fertilizer production, administration, credit, clinic), and had to be zealously careful with the decisions that each side (associative and business) had to make. This lesson they began to put into practice.

Secondly, the cooperative, with its bodies and management, built beneficial relationships with different actors. With aid organizations and the State, administering resources efficiently. With social banks, honoring their debt, in spite of the fact that only part of those resources had gotten to the cooperative, and the fact that the social banks had failed in their scrutiny mechanisms to ensure that the loans went to the cooperative and not a small mafia. Building relationships with a new organic certifier, looking for one that “visited the countryside.” And with the coffee buyers so that the demand for more quality might be combined with price differentials.

Third, the “associative-business” awakening also implied a “awakening in production technology”. This implied recognizing that there was a lot to improve in their production areas, and that the training sessions from the state institutions on the coffee market were useful and necessary; then they began to listen to the trainings and observe their fields. It also implied deciding to have a full time technical promoter (who would accompany the members in their fields, as well as produce organic inputs, earthworm and compost fertilizer) that the members can buy. In this way, slowly, they perceived that a responsible management of organic coffee would yield sustainable fruit in the long run, something beneficial even for including different associated crops with the coffee, and for understanding that an open mind with a long term perspective is important.

Fourth, adding value to their coffee, getting into the roasting and grounding of coffee, and opening a cafeteria for the public, has multiple benefits. On the one hand, it has allowed you to know more about the yield of coffee, for example, that 1.20 pounds of export coffee is equal to 1 lb of roasted-ground coffee, or that 1 pound of roasted, ground coffee comes from 7.4 pounds of cherry coffee, and that you can get 25 cups of coffee from that one pound. This information is important to them when negotiating differential prices with coffee buyers, because both organizations, the cooperative and the buyers, understand how unjust the New York price is, when it says that 1 pound of coffee is worth US$1.50, and that same pound in the United States or Europe, now roasted, ground and packaged, is worth 10 to 20 times more, and let´s not even talk about once it is turned into 25 cups of coffee. On the other hand, the cafeteria is also a door to agro-ecological tourism for people connected to the coffee trade and for the public in general; this creates an environmental awareness and allows people to understand how coffee economics works and how it is part of the culture of the communities of San Juan; and also deepens the relationship between the cooperative and the organizations with which they are connected.

The ongoing awakening

“Every cloud has it silver lining.” The crisis was serious, but at the same time, awakening to it allowed them to make a difference in 12 years. They learned that the relationship between the associative and business parts is the engine of cooperativism; that the formality of leadership rotation is basic, but insufficient; and that a relationship of alliance is a double edged sword, it can be a relationship of complicity for dispossessing the members of their own organization, or it can be an alliance so that they “jump” out of the “boiling pot”, improve the lives of their members, and contribute to non members. If the relationship of the organizations is only with the president or the manager, based only on “papers”, they are on the brink of being dispossessed. If the relationship with the organizations is with that associative/business interaction mediated by immersion processes and transparency on both sides, they are on the brink of repossession. This is the biggest contribution of the La Voz cooperative to the associative world.

After these two large steps forward, are they out of danger of being “boiled” like the “frog”? The response is no. In fact, it is said that human beings are the only animal that trips over the same stone. What can be done to keep danger away? In the history of social movements we learn that, after being mobilized “from below”, even the best leaders tend to believe that the people can only be mobilized “from above” – from a political vanguard, manager or market. The cooperative needs mechanisms that would allow it to mobilize itself “from below” (members) to detect in time any increase in “temperature”; that the associative side supervise the administrative side – like the rotation of leaders – it is good, but not enough. How can it be done? Based on research, we should work on an alliance between the cooperative and the University around the formation of students and new associative leaders. Concretely, the cooperative and the Rafael Landivar University (RLU), I mention the RLU because of their historic interest in contributing to a society moved by social justice and not by market justice, should invest in a cafeteria on the central university campus and then in each branch; that cafeteria would be the gateway toward an ecology of knowledge (the science that is taught is ONE knowledge, there are other knowledges produced for example by the indigenous and peasant families of San Juan, and other knowledges); and that relationship would allow the RLU to have a privileged source for formation, and the cooperative would have an opportunity to study itself in a contextualized way.

“What good can come from San Juan de La Laguna?” ask those who are mobilized “from above”, like the prejudiced elite asked some 2 thousand years ago: “What good can come from Nazareth?”. In this article the La Voz Cooperative teaches us that working within a plural framework of alliances, keeping the focus on organized families, may be the best antidote for any organization that fights for justice and peace to avoid being “boiled” by market fundamentalism that says that you have to study a major or organize yourself exclusively to make money.

[1] René (rmvidaurre@gmail.com) has a PhD in development studies, is a collaborator of the Winds of Peace Foundation (http://peacewinds.org/research/) and an asociate researcher for IOB-University of Antwerp (Belgium).

Organized communities are valuable, very valuable!

Organized communities are valuable, very valuable!

René Mendoza Vidaurre[1]

We dedicate this article to Eduvijes Sánchez[2]

Where your treasure is, there will your heart be. Bible (Mt 6.21)

Whenever your drink water, remember its source. Chinese Proverb

“The cooperatives and associations are dividing the communities”, “organizations are a big doorway through which two or three wolves take advantage of the rest of the sheep”, “ organizations are like the old cathedrals, empty shells”, “the communities are like ´unleavened dough´ that will never become the ´bread´ that could be multiplied”, “ it is an illusion to believe in the people”, “only the patron, the market or God can change people”. Frequently we run into these beliefs that are half-truths, a mixture of discrimination and providentialism. Far from denying that there are regressive organizations, we highlight that there are unique and innovative organizations that outstrip these just portrayed beliefs. In this article we describe one of them, the COMAL network of Honduras, whose “source” and “treasure” are precisely the communities that are organized; we present three of those communities, and in the end we underscore the small, great changes that that network of organizations has created in the lives of the people.

The novelty of the COMAL network

This organization includes 122 first and second tier organizations from the provinces of Comayagua, Intibucá, Gracias a Dios, La Paz, Yoro, Santa Bárbara, and Choluteca. In the face of the increasing dominance of the market in the beginning of the 1990s, their leaders envisioned a market alternative for small scale peasant and indigenous production. Another market is possible for the communities! In its 20 years, buffeted by different internal and external “storms”, the COMAL network has constructed a path that we show in the attached Figure (stairs that begin when a community organizes, and step by step advances toward their sustainability and technological changes) and that, proposed as a theory, would read like this: when organizations resolve their internal centralized leadership issues, and combine commerce and credit in a sustainable way on different levels (community and municipal), they can generate technological changes (e.g. sustainable agriculture and processing of raw materials) and continue scaling up to deal with other challenges in a cumulative fashion, like the Mayan teaching: one day builds on the previous day; today builds on yesterday, and tomorrow builds on today.

This innovative organization within the current context of increased market fundamentalism, the state as a “mercantile and privatizing agent”, and the scarcity of support from international aid, is also re-inventing itself, returning to and taking even more energy from its “sources”: the communities. Why? In order to not fall into what we call “the 20-25 syndrome”, organizations that start with a great spirit (vision and mission) and that after 20-25 years regress, become bureaucratic, and wrap themselves up in technocratic arrogance, absorbed by the market. How is it that the COMAL network is so innovative and at the same time is re-inventing itself? Because behind the COMAL network there are communities that, to the extent that they are organized, are capable of counteracting the dominant force of the markets.

Organized communities

What follows are three communities with different attributes. The community of Encinos in the Intibuca province with 500 inhabitants, in zones declared to be in extreme poverty, is a community with tight social cohesion, intensive agriculture with agro-ecological areas, and a leadership whose influence goes beyond the community. This quality of the community is traced to the fact that for 35 years they have had a Peasant Store (PS) and a Rural Bank, for 13 years they have had an enterprise that sells vegetables, and for the last 4 years along with other PSs are owners of a Multiple Service Enterprise (distributor). How are these organizations sustainable and at the same time, able to benefit their members and the entire community? First, each member contributes 1500 lempiras to the PS, and with that, receives the equivalent of 100% of that contribution as earnings (in other words, another 1500 lempiras); if the member contributes more than 1500 lempiras, he or she receives the equivalent of 20% of that additional amount of contributions as earnings of the PS; both benefits are received at the end of the year. Secondly, the members get an loan equal to twice their minimum contribution, in other words up to 3,000 lempiras. Third, the PS offers products at slightly lower prices than the market, while the salary of the store staff (administrator of the PS) is 30% of gross earnings; in other words, the staff is motivated to sell more, as the population is motivated to do their shopping in the PS. These three facts mean that there are no arrears and the entire community benefits: if a member owes 3000 lempiras and does not pay on time, the PS and the Bank retain their contributions (1500 lempiras) and their earnings (1500 lempiras), and since all the members have additional contributions, they still have resources left after the retention.

The second community is El Corozo in the Yoro Province. There the majority of the population produces sugar cane, and in 2009 twenty families decided to organize a Multiple Service Enterprise (MSE). How is this innovative? Slowly, beliefs held for centuries began to be dispelled: “men greet only men,” “peasants are not capable of leading their organizations,” “only men can be leaders, the women not at all” and “state resources should not go to a peasant organization”. These beliefs are true “demons” that build a nest deep in the human psyche and direct human actions. How are they able to move beyond them? First, the twenty families woke up to their reality: without transforming their cane into blocks of brown sugar, and then into granulated brown sugar, their income would not increase, and if they planted more sugar cane, they would need more land, and they would do more damage to the environment – because sugar cane cannot have even one tree in its area; so they organized a MSE. Secondly, since the beginning they decided that not only would their board meet once a month, but the entire assembly would, to deal with every detail of the life of the organization, and to make decisions in a collective way. Third, they named their board members based on their capacities, so their current board is led by a woman, and so women and men now greet each other. Fourth, they make contributions for their investments and to cover the costs of the actions of the board, and they were able to get the State to finance the construction of a processing center for producing granulated sugar. They are building a strong community with a sense of ownership and learning through their monthly meetings, and supported by the proximity of living in the same place.

And the thrid community is Huertas in the La Paz Province. As part of the trainings done by an aid agency, they received GMO corn seed “so they might harvest more and ensure their own food.” The community, after a long internal deliberation under the leadership of their cooperative, decided to bury that seed: “if we lose our yellow corn seed, each year we will have to buy that seed that costs 4,600 lempiras to plant 1.5 manzanas (1.11 hectares) and become dependent on chemical inputs; hunger will come knocking on our doors.” Within weeks the representative of the aid agency returned: “Those people do not want progress! Why didn’t they plant the corn that we gave them?” The community, in the voice of one of their leaders, replied, “the expiration date for that seed had already passed, nothing sprouted, we worked in vain.” The representative of the aid agency nodded, “Oh, that is fine”. Far from defending one seed or another, or the individualist approach that most of the aid agencies have with their projects versus the organizational approach that the communities have, or discussing who is fooling who, let us stress the deliberative character of the community under the leadership of their cooperative, their long term vision and their ability to convince the aid agency itself.

Small great changes

The PSs, Rural Banks, Multiple Service Enterprises and the cooperatives mentioned in these three communities form part of the COMAL network; and above all, form part of its vision, deliberations, experiments and way of regulating what works for them, their awareness to change harmful rules and subtly defend their organizational forms that go beyond individualism. Their corridor, through the network, is from the communities to the national level and the world, and vice versa. They are glocal spaces (as local as they are global), spaces of ongoing ´co-onflicts´- that cooperate in the midst of conflicts that cross their administrative borders. That is, for example, the dispute over seed in the Huerta community, a dispute that is as local as it is global, that includes the intangible (vision and form of community organization); striving to produce granulated sugar in a Central America with millions invested in sugar and sugar cane plantations as a colonial inheritance; or ecological agriculture that is “swimming against the current” of agribusiness.

To the naked eye the communities seem like closed and dispersed worlds, like stars in the sky; but in joint reflection they appear to be densely connected among themselves, like “constellations of stars” revealing images that are changing: one sees that the native seed and other crops are what make their cornfield that ensures their lives, another sees that their assumptions fall apart to the extend that they learn, and another introduces rules as they test circular processes involving contributions, credit and earnings from trade. At the same time, we understand that they are more than money in a store, a bank, an MSE or a cooperative; they are families that organize and cause small great changes: peasants that lead their enterprises, women that become leaders, children that are making a difference in family agriculture, women and men who greet one another, think through their decisions, families that are processing coffee, granulated sugar, butter, oil, soap…They are de-centered (not dispersed) communities, densely connected, that have vision and “look a gift horse in the teeth”, and that organize to resist the daily dispossession of the market that condemns them to become laborers, to migrate and to endure social and gender violence.

Philosophers and mystics from the Medieval century invented the word fulguratio in Latín, to indicate the creation of something new: fulguration, lightening. The natural sciences teach us that lightening is an electrical spark; when two independent systems clash they generate a short circuit, which is something new – this is where the expression “the whole is greater than its parts” comes from. The COMAL network is more than each one of the 122 member organizations; and the communities are more than the COMAL network. The communities and their organizations are not like an independent, static system, but rather they learn and change; and when these communitiies link up (“clash”) in ´co-onflicts´, they make new realities emerge, a fulguratio that accumulates and expands. This, to the eyes of the elite of the right and the left, is an illusion because they say “the people move only if they are moved from above” (patron, vanguard, manager, market and/or God). The COMAL network and the communities, constantly torn between that ´from above´ and ´from below, seem to tell us that the communities are more than illusions. Certainly, the ´source´and ´treasure´ of the COMAL network are the communities, who to the extent that they organize, cultivate an awareness of managing markets from their territories (their “water”). This is the basis for the COMAL network to continue re-inventing itself.

Tell me how immersed you are in the organized communities, and I will tell you how much difference your organization is making in the lives of the people. Truly organized communities are valuable, very valuable!

René (rmvidaurre@gmail.com) has a PhD in development studies, is a collaborator of the Winds of Peace Foundation (http://peacewinds.org/research/) and an associate researcher at the IOB-Antwerp University (Belgium).

[1] This article was made possible by the accompaniment of Donaldo Zúñiga, director COMAL network, and Karolo Aparicio from EcoVivas, in the reflections we had in different communities and in the office of COMAL itself. We are grateful to Hal Baron from Communitas for his generosity and vision about these experiences in Mesoamerica.

[2] Eduvijes, from the  Llanito Verde community in the Gracias a Dios Province, was an organizer of her community and defender of the water sources in her area. Eduvijes died within days of having been brutally beaten when she was protesting over the lack of the rule of law in her country in 2009.

A cooperative that regulates markets

A cooperative that regulates markets

René Mendoza V.,

With Sulma Y. Leiva, Rigoberto Martínez and Ruperto Mejía[1]

It is easy to stop one person, but difficult to stop 100.

 When people discover the power of community and the transformative force of Christianity, nothing can stop them. Héctor Gallego

 

Many cooperatives in Latin America tend to end in three ways. Some are stillborn, the result of external decision making, organized by the State or international aid. They last as long as there is an injection of external economic support. Others turn into businesses, implementing the social aspect like something similar to “Corporate Social Responsibility”, that is, charity to provide good publicity for the company. And others are privatized by small elites and managed at their whim. In these three cases, the member families end up affected, their dream of accessing better markets (for products and capital), of being trained and cooperating to resolve problems, falls apart. In the face of this reality, the Hope of the Peasants Cooperative in Panama seems to express a real hope. This article summarizes what this cooperative is and explains the secrets behind its success.

What is the novelty behind this cooperative? It is an organization that is 47 years old and has 1,235 members, the only one in Central America that manages commerce through a distributor, 2 supermarkets and 5 branch supermarkets within a network of more than 20 groups, among them other cooperatives. It is also the only cooperative in Central America with a coffee roaster that is processing 100% of the coffee it collects under two brands (Café Tute and Café Santa Fe). It is a cooperative that redistributes 40% of its earnings through social policies, and 60% directly to the members. And it is a cooperative that has influenced the market in a district of 16,000 people, made the weighing of the products bought and sold more fair, and instituted the idea that being a business person is selling products at low prices. In other words, we are in the face of a cooperative that is regulating the market in the interests of its members and the communities of Santa Fe of Panama.

What are the secrets to the success of this cooperative? Said figuratively, there are three codes that interact to “open” the “lock box” to the success of this cooperative; codes that “open” in a context of adverse power relations and in a place with a history of resistance – the indigenous in the face of the Spanish invasion, and the Tute Mountain uprising with the rebellion of the students against the Panamanian Guardia. This trilogy of codes are the internalization of values expressed in the mission, the counterweight and social cohesion mechanisms that accompany the smooth running of the cooperative, and the sustainability of the cooperative and its members.

The sense of mission happened during the gestation and birth of the cooperative, under the influence of the priest Hector Gallego, who was disappeared after three years in 1971. Jacinto Peña recalls that precise moment when the cooperative began in 1969:

We woke up to the injustice of the wages, the fraud that the stores pulled off with the weighing of the products and their prices. So we decided to form a cooperative. But how could we start a cooperative if we did not think we had any resources? So Fr. Hector threw out a 5 cent coin in the middle of where we were seated, and asked, “How many pieces of candy can we buy with that coin?” “Five!” we responded. Others present looked in their pockets for a 5 cent coin. And others as well. The priest held up 10 coins and said that we had enough for 50 pieces of candy and sent a young boy off to buy them. It was 12 noon, we were all hungry. That same boy passed out the candy to the 50 who were present. The priest asked us again, “what does it taste like?” Someone shouted, “it tastes like heaven!” The priest concluded, “that is how cooperativism is done.” The next week a group from Pantanal bought 1 quintal of salt to sell, and in El Carmen each person began to save 10 cents a week. That is how the hope of the peasants got started, our cooperative.

This gestation was the connection between the institution of cooperativism (something external) and the transformational religious institution (something internal) in a group of small producers (something local). Facing an adverse context of large producers paying them low salaries, and stores cheating them with weighing and prices, they woke up and saw opportunities in national lands that they could work and having stores on the basis of their own resources. Learning, discovering the hidden side of things, made them change: the poor can save and can work on their own land; they can come together and share the force of their faith to build justice. This is then their mission.

Throughout the history of the cooperative, in the good times and the bad times, the counterweights and group cohesion have been important to them. The Board of Directors, the Oversight Board and the Assembly function, addressing strategic decisions and taking care of one another; while 92 workers on the business side are responsible for the operational part. They are not judge and jury; the management cannot decide for the board nor viceversa. In addition there is a group of the founders of the cooperative who, whether they hold posts or not, remain vigilant over the course of the cooperative. There is high rotation among the board members, while the founding leaders remain. There is a lot of cohesion among the 92 workers, which is incentivized by a pretty equitable difference in salary, the distance between the highest salary and the lowest is 2 x 1, when the rest of the institutions and organizations tend to have a gap of approximately 10 x 1 and even higher. The interaction between the associative side (bodies) and the business side of the cooperative generates mutual oversight for the smooth running of the cooperative, something that has allowed it to overcome various administrative crises over the years.

The sustainability of the cooperative and its members completes the trilogy. The sustainability of the cooperative has been achieved following the two principles of Fr. Hector: “overflowing measure”, which is giving more in weight instead of giving less; and maintaining low prices for the sale of products “because no popular organization should steal from the poor.” In terms of the sustainability of the members, the cooperative uses 40% of its surplus for scholarships, aid and incentives for the producers, and the remaining 60% is directly redistributed to the members, according to the amount that they have bought from the cooperative. In other words, the general population buys from the cooperative because of the low prices, and the members benefit not only from the prices, the loans and the incentives, but also from the surplus. This nourishes the sense of ownership that the members have over their cooperative. Recalling the biblical phrase that “where your treasure is, there your heart will be”, the heart of the members is in their cooperative.

With this foundation, the cooperative faces the market dangers that stalk it daily. What are they? The fact that the business side, in a country like Panama based on a service economy – money for money – might take over the associative side of the cooperative; that the centralization of decision making and the concentration of resources, that has so many times eroded other cooperatives in Latin America, might seduce the new generations; and that the logic of external subsidies and subsidies from the cooperative itself, instead of the Law of the Talents (Matthew 25), might be raised up as the social part of the cooperative. These are dangers that the cooperative has known how to deal with, regulating markets to the benefit of human beings, something it has done throughout its 47 years.

This reminds us of the distinction that Brafman and Beckstrom (2008) make in their book, “The Starfish and the Spider: The Unstoppable Power of Leaderless Organizations, precisely about the difference between the spider and the starfish. They both are similar in the sense that their arms are attached to a central body; but they are different. If you crush the head of a spider, you kill it. While you cannot find the head of the starfish. If you cut it in half, it becomes two starfish; if you cut off its arms, they produce even more. Dark forces believed that by disappearing Fr. Hector they would do away with the peasant movement of Santa Fe. The Hope of the Peasants Cooperative is like the starfish, it reproduces itself and multiplies itself by 10 times 100. The more decentralized it is, the closer it is to its mission, and the more it recovers its formation and character as a peasant movement, the more it will be like a starfish, the hope of the peasants of Latin America.

[1] René (rmvidaurre@gmail.com) has a PhD in development studies, is a collaborator of the Winds of Peace Foundation (http://peacewinds.org/research/) and an associate researcher of IOB-Antwerp University (Belguim). Sulma is the president of the “La nuez de oro” Cooperative, and Rigoberto and Ruperto are from the Mangle Association of El Salvador.

The Paris agreements on climate change: A path for saving the planet?

The Paris agreements on climate change: A path for saving the planet?

René Mendoza Vidaurre[1]

Pick up a rock in your hand and close you fist around it until it begins to beat, live, speak and move. Sámi Poem

When the waves of the ocean hit our chest, at the same time we feel a current of water pulling our feet in the opposite direction. In the midst of pressures from all sides, on December 12, 2015 representatives of 195 countries meeting in Paris achieved the first universal and binding agreement for saving the planet. In this article we argue that the Paris Accords are like the “waves” that allow us to surf, but we need to discern “the current under the waves”, the undercurrent that could drown us. To do so we start with a brief theoretical framework, then we identify the problem of climate change, we put it in a historical perspective, we list the agreements achieved in Paris and their long term effects, we discern “the current under the waves” of the agreement, we measure the challenges, and putting ourselves on the side of peasant, indigenous and Afrodescendent organizations, we suggest concrete mechanisms for the mitigation of climate change.

  1. The dilemma of the common good of the climate

There is a close relationship between common goods (collective or public goods) and climate change; the atmosphere is a good that belongs to everyone, and at the same time it is limited, it can be exploited and really has been excessively exploited (pollution). The question is, if we know that the climate benefits all of us, why is the atmosphere polluted? Hardin (1968)[2], in a Cold war context marked by the state-market economy dichotomy, argued that rational individuals, maximizing their private advantages and socializing their costs, use up common resources, which is why they are condemned to be used up (privatized) – this is where the phrase tragedy of the commons comes from. The dilemma is that we all want a non-polluted atmoshpere, but our individual rational actions cause irrational collective results, climate change.

Olson (1965)[3] recognizes the cause of this dilemma in the free rider, the opportunist who thinks that he will receive benefits regardless of his contribution, which results in a generalized assumption. Olson suggests working in small groups and providing sanction/incentive mechanisms in order to save the commons. Ostrom[4] criticizes Hardin because of the deterministic nature of his theory (“tragedy”) blocking human progress, and on the basis of cases of communal management, finds that the commons do not disappear, that they can be well managed if there is clarity about the rules (laws), the collective methods, and if decisions are made collectively, there are local and public conflict resolution mechanisms, including sanctions on those who violate the rules, and when the self determination of communities is recognized by the authorities at the highest level. In this case there is no “tragedy”; cultures understand that the commons are environments that make sustainable and rational behavior possible (De Biase, 2014)[5].

Resolving this dilemma of collective action requires knowledge, particularly in the case that concerns us. Nevertheless here another dilemma emerges, science generates information that causes uncertainty, yet at the same time we depend on that information. Following Beck (1986)[6], we live in a society of risk (“modern society”), not just of classes (“traditional society”); our medium is an environment where knowledge, like being, determines awareness, whose formation is different to awareness previously, because the dangers are not coming from the rich and poor, but both face the same problem in this society of risk, even though with differential results – like an earthquake of the same scale has different effects in Haiti than in the United States. Science reports on the increase in temperature and suggests its control, even some express their faith that progress in technology will solve climate change; but science cannot predict the consequences of that increase because of the its degree of complexity. The paradox is that there is uncertainty about the knowledge, while at the same time we depend on it (Beck, 1986).

Both dilemmas, the collective action and the knowledge dilemma, move under structural conditions, which are ideas, interests and organizational patterns and institutions founded over centuries, that are very exclusive and generally dominated by small elites. Within this framework we formulate a number of theses: there are structures that underlie the contamination of the atmosphere and the primacy of individual rationality, which has had perverse effects; the commons (the atmosphere), following Ostrom, are not “tragedy”, but conflicts that should be analyzed as starting points from a political economy perspective; the dilemma of collective action and the uncertainty can be resolved through a knowledge produced by “epistemic communities” that would include the “civil scientists” (vulnerable families and their organizations) and “natural and social scientists”.

2. Global warming

Graph 1. Increase in temperature by 2100

increase in global temp 2100-2

Source: Conference of Parties (COP) based on the United Nations Framework on Climate Change (UNFCCC). http://myalbum.com/album/boFLr8B9S4j0

What does it imply? Solar energy passes through the atmosphere, part of that energy is absorbed by the earth´s surface, and another part is reflected (bounces back); part of this reflected radiation is retained by greenhouse gases (GHG), and another part returns to space. In other words, GHG are in the atmosphere, they retain part of the heat of the sun, and within a certain range, maintain a temperature appropriate for life.

The problem is when these GHG increase in the atmosphere, retain more heat and make the temperature of the earth increase. If we take the average world temperature of the preindustrial period as a reference point (see Graph 1), the temperature for 2012 rose by 0.85 degrees Celsius (known as centigrade, symbol C ) compared to the preindustrial period; if this increase continues without any change, the temperature for 2100 will increase by 4.0 0C, a situation in which it is believed that the planet will survive, but not the human race. The G-7 countries have promised zero emissions of carbon by that same year, 2100; the question could be asked whether they are sure about that, because there would be no human beings capable of emiting it. In the Paris Accords achieved in December 2015, the parties (countries) proposed new commitments to stay under a 20C increase over the preindustrial level. Nevertheless, even if the accords are fulfilled, the spending of the carbon budget will not only reach 107.3% in 2080 (see Graph 3), but a 2.7 0C increase will be reached, something recognized in the Accords themsevles: “Observes with concern that the estimated levels of the added greenhouse gas emissions in 2025 and 2030 resulting from the foreseen contributions determined at the national level are not compatible with the scenarios of the lower cost 2 ºC, but rather lead to a projected level of 55 gigatons in 2030, and also observes that, in order to maintain the increase of average world temperature under 2 ºC over preindustrial levels, through a reduction of emissions to 40 gigatons …” (chap 2, art. 17).

Graph 2

Source: based on World Resources Institute

 

Graph 3

Source: British meteorological office (Met Office). http://www.metoffice.gov.uk/research/news/2015/global-average-temperature-2015
Graph 3. Average Global Temperature (1850 – 2015)

We talk about a carbon budget, because the quantity of carbon to be emitted to not go beyond the 2 0C of (average) global warming has been established. Graph 2 shows how we have been spending that carbon budget, displaying the danger of the “undertow.” Between 1860 and 1965 a fourth of that budget (24.4%) was spent (emitted), spending that by the year 2000 was already half of that budget (53%), and by 2012 nearly three fourths of the budget was spent (67.1%). This is what Graph 1 shows as 0.85 0C of global warming. Then, Graph 3 provides us another important figure, that in November 2015 global warming went beyond the “ceiling” of 1 0C over preindustrial levels.

From this we see the spending of the carbon budget is happening more and more quickly, consequently the increase in global warming is also happening more quickly. The problem, according to the IPCC (International Panel on Climate Change, Stockholm 26-8-2013)[7] is that when the temperature gets beyond 1.6+ y 2.0+, that temperature will remain there for hundreds of years, no matter what we do. This threshold, at the pace we are going, will be passed in a few years. By 2033 we will have spent 100% of the carbon budget, and global warming will rise 2 0C, and by the year 2100 it will have risen 4 0C. Let us remember that these data are a world average, which means that the increase of 2 0C over preindustrial levels, in tropical regions could be 3 0C or more, which will be catastrophic for life – the earth and humanity.

With a 2 0C warming it is thought that, among other consequences, parts of the world will be uninhabitable, there will be worse droughts[8] and floods, strong storms, risks that coastal areas will flood, decrease in rivers, expansion of deserts, acidification of oceans and cities affected[9], food insecurity because of the decrease in yields of harvests and because of the loss of habitat from flooding, collapse of the marine food chain, loss of biodiversity, and according to Burke et al (2015)[10], the increase in temperature will widen even more inequality gap. These are some of the foreseeable consequences, but in general, uncertainty prevails about the effects of climate change, and the accompanying risk that we under or over estimate them. In other words, averages are deceptive; understanding climate change is understanding the enormous diversity in the production of the problem, and in the fact that its effects are suffered in a differentiated manner; the diversity and inequality that it expresses clearly are not solved with charity.

3. Contamination in a historical perspective

In becoming aware of the gravity of the climate change situation (or global warming) that threatens human existence itself, we ask ourselves about how we have gotten to this point. The key is in the increase in GHG caused by human actions. This began in the XIX century with the industrial revolution, first with the European countries, and later including other countries – here we find the largest free riders in the world.

Table 1 shows the 14 countries that have emitted the most carbon dioxide (CO2) into the atmosphere in different historical periods. Between 1865 and 1890 the countries of Europe (in blue), were the countries that most polluted the atmosphere. Since 1890 the United States appears as the biggest polluting country. Then, between 1960 and 1980 four Asian countries joined the group of the biggest emitters of CO2. And between 1990 and 2012 there is a more diverse and globalized table of 14 countries that have polluted the most; China starting in 2005 takes the lead as the most polluting country.

 Table 1. Carbon dioxide emitting countries in different historical periods

Table 1

Source: based on World Resources Institute. See: http://bit.ly/11SMpjA

Table 1 helps to see the 14 countries that most emitted CO2 in each period. Cumulatively, Graph 4 shows the countries that have most polluted between 1850 and 2011. We see there that the United States holds first place with 27% of emissions. They are followed by 28 countries of the European Union with 25%. Then come China, Russia, Japan, India, Canada, Mexico, Brazil and Indonesia,

that together emitted 31%. Finally there is the rest of the world (158 countries) with 17% of total CO2.

Graph 4 (1)

This data, nevertheless, hides the complex global interaction that exists among countries, the flows and outsourcing of pollution. For example, the countries of Europe and the United States, to reduce their gas emissions, use components of solar energy panels and wind turbines made in China[11]. Countries like England, to avoid fines from the European Union that set goals for recycling, and due to the fact that the prices of plastic and paper dropped, transfer recyclable waste to Indonesia[12]. Or countries like China, that import wood from Latin America for the construction of a large amount of homes in times of strong economic growth. Nor does the flow from large corporation appear in the data, that move to other countries to export from there the products that their countries need. In this way, countries like China and Indonesia appear to have higher CO2 emissions, while countries like England appear to have less[13].

In addition to the recognition of the production and consumption chains between different countries, a view of the use of per capita energy also influences the interpretation of the pollution list. For that purpose we focus on year 2013, and we analyze the six highest polluter countries in the world. See Table 2.

Table 2. Highest polluting countries currently (2013)

Range Countries Population (%) Total energy consumption (kilotons en %) Emissions of CO2 (kilotons in %)
1 China 19.1 21.5 24.7
2 United States 4.4 17.2 16.2
3 India 17.6 5.9 6.0
4 Russia 2.0 5.7 5.2
5 Japan 1.8 3.6 3.5
6 Germany 1.1 2.5 2.2
  Latin America 8.5 6.5 5.1
  46 62.9 62.9

Source: based on World Resource Institute

Total energy consumption is expressed in kilotons (1000 metric tons) of fuel used (related to oil, natural gas and solids like coal); and the emission of CO2 includes the burning of fossil fuels, manufacturing of cement, and the carbon dioxide produced by the consumption of natural gas and coal. From Table 2 we see that between China, United States, India and Russia they consume half of the energy generated on the planet, (50.3%), and are responsible for half of world emissions of CO2 (52.1%), but at the same time they are countries that have 43.1% of world population. The United States shows the greatest imbalance by consuming 17.2% of energy and emitting 16.2% of total CO2, when it has only 4.4% of world population, which shows conclusively that the USA as a country, and in per capita terms, is the most polluting country of all – the leader of the free riders.

We present two graphs in what follows that deal with energy consumption and per capita emission of CO2, that should be interpreted with a certain degree of care. For primary energy consumption before its transformation into final fuels (equal to national production plus imports and variation in stocks, minus exports and fuel supplied to ships and planes affected by international transportation, see Graph 5), six Arab countries are among the biggest pollutors (Qatar, Kuwait, Brunei, Bahrein, Omán and United Arab Emirates).

Graph 5

Graph 6

Source: based on the Statistical Division of the United Nations. See Graph at: http://www.tsp-data-portal.org/TOP-20-CO2-emitters-per-capita#tspQvChart

 

For  emissions of CO2 (see Graph 6) there are seven Arab countries (Bahrain, Qatar, Kuwait, United Arab Emirates Brunei, and Saudia Arabia) among the biggest polluting countries. What do both graphs tell us? First, because of the size of the countries, these Graphs do not contradict the list of the 6 most polluting countries on the planet. Secondly, the case of the Arab countries is something unique, they consume more because they are producing more fuel, and their dependency on oil reveals their real “Achilles heel”, because the solution to climate change will mean they will experience the harshness of the so called “Dutch disease.”

Pickety (2015)[14], with data on the historical tendencies of per capita CO2 emissions on the national level based on consumption, confirms that global emissions are concentrated: 10% of global emitters (from all continents) supply 45% of global emissions, and the 50% of those that emit less, supply 13% of global emissions.

Graph 7

Source: Schwabish, N. Tawil and C.ourtney Grith, 2012, Congressional Budget Office based on information from the World Bank, World Resources Institute; Resources for the Future and Climate Advisers, and LTS International. Ver: https://www.cbo.gov/sites/default/files/112th-congress-2011-2012/graphic/1-6-12-forestinfographic0.pdf

To complement this description of pollution, we show its sources also by sector (see Graph 7). The greatest source of contamination is the production of energy (44%) that includes the use of electricity, industrial use of energy and other sources related to energy; followed by agriculture and deforestation (26%); then industrial processes and waste, and burning of fuel in homes and businesses (16%); and transportation (14%).

Graph 8

And given that agriculture interests us because of its historical importance in the world, particularly in Latin America, I include Graph 8. Of total contamination generated by agriculture, 36% comes from nitrogen oxide (N2O), 14% from CO2 and 50% from methane (CH4). Of this 100%, now looking at the Graph, the biggest contamination comes from ranching: 40% from intestinal fermentation (digestion of organic material by livestock) and 15% from manure deposited in pastures[15].

Summarizing what we have seen so far, global warming has happened because of the increase of GHG, an increase that has been mostly due to the generation of CO2 (in addition to methane and nitrogen oxide) in which the United States and Europe cumulatively have emitted 52% of CO2. Six countries have done the most contamination in absolute and relative terms. Highlighted as well are the strategies of some countries to appear as less polluting. The case of the Arab countries, with a high per capita consumption because of their production of cheap fuel, is a unique case due to being confronted with the dilemma of helping to save the planet (leaving fossil fuels underground) and their survival due to their dependency on oil. Finally, the contamination by sector shows agriculture and the forestry sector with not very high percentages -14 and 12% respectively – but they are very important sectors because: most of the impoverished part of the population is concentrated there; they are the only sectors with the potential to absorb GHG from the atmosphere; and because agriculture is a sector that can make the greatest contribution to the mitigation of climate change (Reynolds, 2013), like the forestry sector. This is ratified by the experience of Brazil, a country that reduced deforestation by 70% in the Amazon between 2005 and 2013, and with that has had a direct effect on global level emissions[16]. Without this contribution Graph 7 would be different and the spending of the carbon budget would be greater for 2012 in Graph 2. In conclusion, agriculture is another case that shows the importance of diversity, and that tells us that poverty and inequality can be solved if agriculture and forestry effectively contribute, with innovative practices and institutionality, to absorbing GHG.

4. The Paris Accords and their scope

196 members (195 countries and the European Union) arrived at a “legally binding” accord, that will be ratified in April 2016 and will take effect in 2020. The key words of the agreement are: mitigation, adaptation, financing, technology and building capacities. The principal objective of the accords is; keeping the increase of global temperature below 2 0C over preindustrial levels, “and continue striving to limit the temperature increase to 1.5 0C”. To do so, 162 countries have turned in their sheet of the route called “Intended Nationally Determined Contributions” (INDC) to limit the effects of the increase in temperature, while 9 countries, among them Nicaragua, did not turn in their INDC[17], and other countries, like Bolivia, turned in their INDC on the condition of foreign financing[18]; they agreed to mobilize 100 billion dollars annually from the developed countries for the developing countries as a financing mechanism for climate change mitigation and adaptation measures[19]; and they agreed on support for research, development and demonstration of technology, and the development and improvement of endogenous capacities and technologies. The areas prioritized for the reduction of greenhouse gases are renewable energy, energy efficiency, transportation, methane and agriculture, and the foresty sector.

The noise generated around the Paris Accord is one of triumphalism, but the reality appears to be bleaker. Let us remember that the issue of climate change was already discussed in the Rio Earth Summit in 1992, an event in which the treaties on the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), on Biological Diversity, and the Convention to Combat Desertification became known. Let us note that by 1990 we had already spent 43.4% of the carbon budget, and by 2012 we had spent 67.1%; if governments had decided to fight climate change in 1992, the situation today would be very different. Even 1.5 0C would have been achieved if there had been an agreement at the first United Nations Conference in Berlin in 1995, while now it is only “an aspiration and improbable goal” (Monbiot, 2015)[20]. 23 years after the Rio Summit and 20 years after the Berlin Conference, and after global warming doubled from what it was in 1990, implementing the Paris Accords will only make the increase in global warming happen more slowly, and that it not continue beyond 2080. Worse yet, these accords are only going to be applied starting in 2020!

Some additional thoughts. First, in fulfilling these accords, pollution will continue and the spending of that budget will reach 107.3% by 2080 (Graph 2), the year in which the situation will improve, and in the year 2200 the spending of the carbon budget will be 95.8%, a level much higher than the present level! Secondly, the Paris Accords warn that the INDCs sent in by the countries imply aggregate greenhouse gas emissions that go beyond the 2 0C and “lead to a projected level of 55 gigatons in 2030”, while the goal is 40 gigatons, “to keep the increase of average world temperature under the 2 0C” over preindustrial levels; the 55 gigatons imply a temperature increase of 2.7 0C expressed in Graph 1. Third, the euphoria of having arrived at a global agreement obscures the fact that even that 2 0C is an “average global temperature”, which would be greater in tropical countries, and that means that the Paris Accords are in their core a partial acceptance of that calamity.

These results make J. Hansen, considered the father of global awareness of climate change for being the first scientist to sound the alarm about this problem in 1988, describe the Paris Accords as a “fraud”, and a “falsehood” (Milman, 2015)[21]. Why? Hansen argues that the accords are only “promises without actions”, that until taxes (or charges) are placed on gas emissions, climate change will get worse. In a more moderate way, Monbiot (2015) says that the Paris Accord, compared to what happened in Copenhagen 2009 where no agreements were reached, and seen from the “narrow framework” of the United Nations, are “a miracle”[22]; while seen from outside that United Nations framework, from what they should be, “are a disaster”.

5. The undercurrent beneath the waves

Why is it so difficult to reach an agreement to save the planet? It is the dilemma of collective action. From the data seen, the accords depend in large measure on the fact that the 10 most polluting countries, or the companies that are behind them, would cede in their positions and overcome what Hardin called the “tragedy of the commons”; that the feeling of the countries who are not on that list, in seeing that their development path by way of industrialization will tend to be limited, where the companies and their national counterparts also have a lot of influence, likewise would cede to a perspective of diversity; and from what is observed in different parts of the world, it depends also on the growing awareness and reactive,[23] and above all proactive, social mobilization with long term thinking.

The “undercurrent beneath the waves” has to do ideas and interests. Monbiot (2015) identifies a “narrow framework” within which the discussions on climate change have taken place. Verbruggen (2015)[24] says that there is a large coalition on the climate (officials, academics, captains of industry and people in the green campaign) rooted in the belief that “there is no alternative”, and in a faith that “the only viable form is continuing the current course”, which does not seem to be appropriate in an issue like climate change, where frequent disruptions are experienced and where diverse theories, practices and technologies are needed. This “narrow framework” and “the only viable form” is the economic perspective, and that “large coalition” in reality are the technopols that Robinson (2003: 214-217)[25] has identified in each country, who are certain intellectuals who are “charismatic, organic, politicized and local organizers of groups with a transnational orientation, that play an important role distinguising local strategies, political programs, technical plans and ideologies, for integration into the new global order”. They are actors connected to one another, nationally and internationally, that penetrate the State and promote the transnational project of capitalist globalization. Verbruggen questions why economists embrace a sole global approach (the market) in climate policy, when there have been so many failures trying to impose a “uniform straight jacket”; and accuses that perspective of having paralized climate policy since 1997 in COP03, Kyoto when the United States imposed trade in emissions[26].

This perspective, motivated by countries´ economic interests, has led to the fact that the Paris Accords focus more on the consumption of fossil fuels and not on their production (Monbiot, 2015), and that they are promises easily avoided by countries. An example of this is England, a country that has a policy for reducing greenhouse gas emissions (reducing the demand for fossil fuels) under the 2008 Climate Change Law (coherent with the Kyoto Accords, see footnote no. 26), and another policy under the 2015 Infrastructure Law by which it urges oil and gas companies to increase their production (greater greenhouse gas emissions) to “maximize the economic recovery” of England (Monbiot, 2014)[27]; in other words, on the one hand it reduces gas emissions, and on the other it promotes the increase of their emission, and both policies are implemented under the direction of the Secretary of State for Energy and Climate Change. What is happening in England, Monbiot himself confirms, is a common practice of governments trapped by the interests of large corporations.

From the side of some developing country governments, there are criticisms of the capitalist system, but without moving outside of the “narrow framework”. Correa (2015)[28], president of Ecuador, points out that the old division of labor, countries who are producers of raw materials and countries responsible for the industrialization of those raw materials, has been replaced by another: “the rich countries generating knowledge – science, technology – that they privatize, while countries like Bolivia, Venezuela, Ecuador, countries of the Amazon basin, we generate environmental goods that they consume for free…”Correa points out that that knowledge is privatized through “patents” and “royalties”, and whose violation is penalized with jail time; while “there is no jail time if a multinational company destroys our nature”. This new division of labor, according to Correa, is based on “power”: “Who are the polluters, but produce knowledge that they privatize, and in exchange they consume environmental goods freely? They are the most powerful ones”; “there are courts for financial debt, there are courts to protect not the rights, but many time the abuse of the multinationals. Why are there not courts for something as fundamental as establishing the ecological debt—?” For his part, Evo Morales, the President of Bolivia, in the 70th General Assembly of the United Nations, said that the countries of the south are not going to be the “forest rangers of the countries of the capitalist system.” And in the very same COP21 of Paris, the representative of Nicaragua, P. Oquist said: 1) that the agreements recognize the debt of the countries historically responsible for climate change; 2) that under the principle of responsibility, they compensate the developing countries, because the consequences of climate change are suffered more by developing countries; 3) that the goal promoted by the developing countries, particularly the island states, has been 1.5 0C and not 2 0C, and that the highest polluting countries reduce their gas emissions; and 4) that the procedure for the decision of the Accords was authoritarian and not democratic[29].

At the same time, in apparent contradiction, Correo supported oil exploitation in the Yasuni Amazon park and in other indigenous communities (Sarayaku, Kichwa, etc). The same situation is happening in the case of Bolivia, Venezuela and other countries. The discourse to the outside world does not appear to be endorsed inside the countries. This is due to three reasons. First, their environmental policies are not backed by their own resources, they are dependent on foreign resources, be they called “compensation” or “Payments for Environmental Services” (PSA), which is why they end up accepting the environmental policies governed by markets[30]. Second, the old Taylorist model of organization persists, that shaped states, political parties, unions and guerrillas, vanguard structures, which keeps them from going out and listening to the communities, and taking their perspectives seriously, that go beyond the economy and its routes, that move outside the lines defined by the modernization theory of “development”. Third, in criticizing the absence of responsibility on the part of the developed countries, and at the same time demanding compensation, they are denying the diversity in the world that they justly tend to speak about in a discursive way. As we said before, the diversity and the inequalities are not resolved with charity.

This economic logic, called by Polanyi decades earlier as the “market society”, postpones agreements and their compliance, diverts attention toward demand while it rejects leaving fuel underground, criticizes gas emissions in a country and at the same time opens the door to extractive companies. That opposition, successful since at least the Parties Conference in Berlin in 1995, allowed the Paris Accords to happen as a “consensus”. Under this logic, (economic) progress of countries has happened embedded in gas emissions; it is the idea that there is no development without industrialization; that climate change would be resolved with more economic progress (and “aid”), that it is not with less market that climate change is going to be resolved, but rather with more market. Coherent with this way of thinking, any country – better said, the corporations behind the governments – are afraid that accepting environmental regulations means losing their competitive advantages over their competitors, or, in the case of the governments of developing countries, the fear of not receiving external resources described by many of them as “compensation”, “foreign investment” (natural resource extracting corporations with greenhouse gas emissions) as a right in the face of “imperialism”. The “waves” of the Paris Accords move us “surfing” the big polluters that appear as the saviors of the planet and as the financiers of developing countries to adapt to climate change. The “undertow” is that the developing countries will be those most affected yet by the Paris Accords themselves, they will have to sacrifice the type of future (road to industrialization) that they have been seeking, emulating the developed countries; while the developed countries will follow their path of progress with GHG emissions.

More than that, the “water current” has to be captured from a historical perspective. Moore (2015)[31] refers to two myths. First myth, that the cause of climate change began with the industrialization in England in the 1800s, a myth also shared by the thinking of the environmentalist movements or the so called approach of the “green economy.” Moore argues that capitalism emerged in the XV, XVI and XVII period (1450-1750) from the biggest environmental revolution that affected natural landscapes and human beings. The most dramatic expression of that process was the conquest of America in military terms, human and environmental genocide. In other words, it was imposed with the sugar plantations, and then with the silver mines in Potosí, appropriating for free (or at low cost) the work of nature and of those considered “non-human”, indigenous and slaves. This process destroyed mountains of forests and eroded lands of the Andes area. This system continued with the extractivism and mono-cropping of sugar cane, tobacco, cotton…fuel…The pattern has been the same: getting new forms of nature that work for free and at low labor cost. From that perspective, the idea of the developed countries in Paris 2015 was expressed as a “consensus”, because “the rest” of the countries with their proposals did not count, like previously when the indigenous populations, slaves and nature were seen as parts of nature, as “the natives.”

The second myth, that the problems created by capitalism are the responsibility of all of humanity, or that climate change is the responsibility of all. Moore (2015) describes this myth as coming “from a racist, Eurocentric and patriarchal vision.” There are historical responsibilities in the face of climate change, injustice that is hidden by the Paris Accords. It is not so much about “compensation”, as about getting the capitalist system to quit feeding itself from what nature produces, cheap labor, cheap energy, food and raw materials, quit persisting based on human and environmental genocide. At this point the biggest danger is that the Paris Accords become a door to dispossession, commercializing nature, in a context where the opportunities for appropriating the free work of forests, oceans, the climate and soils are less and less available.

So in line with Moore (2015), looking at the reality without separating the economic from the ecological, as the history of the emergence of capitalism shows, and as we see in the dry zones in Central and South America, opens up new windows for understanding the reality, combining climate change and race and gender inequality. This step, in turn, will allow us to form new alliances among producer organizations, feminist organizations, worker and student organizations.

6. Challenges

Before continuing, let us recapitulate what has been worked on so far in the light of the proposed theoretical framework. The climate is a collective good, whose “over-exploitation” is due to the opportunism (free riding) of mostly large corporations and developed countries who have polluted the atmosphere. This fact has been sustained not only for 200 years (industrial revolution), but for more than 500 years under the emergence and establishment of the capitalist system on the basis of cheap labor from nature and most of the world´s population, which has also led to the institutionalization of a exclusive organizational pattern. These structures have been expressed in ideas based on market fundamentalism, in the belief that there is no alternative, and with “undertow” effects.

This perspective has generated a pessimistic and conservative thesis, that the causes of the problem will be difficult to change, and that there is no greater human effort capable of making them change; it is pessimistic in the sense that, if it ends up true, the planet will become less inhabitable in the second half of the current century. And it is conservative in so far as it generates impotence, that there is not much to do, that the problem is so complex that we do not know what to do.

Nevertheless, distinguishing the structural factors, supported by a historical perspective, allows envisioning a more optimistic thesis for institutional change, a new and more transformational correlation of forces. This is a “society in movement” with global awareness – for pressuring, and also with decisions about, for example, reducing their consumption of meat, milk and energy – to understand the social, economic and ecological reality as parts of the same process, connected to the families of small producers (peasants and indigenous) with intelligent sustainable practices in the efficient use of soil and forestry, with the relaunching of a business sector around new technologies for change in the energy matrix, with scientists committed to making renewable energies be cheaper than energy coming from coal, gas and oil[32], and with governments that promote appropriate fiscal regulations to incentivize renewable energy and – following Pickety (2015)– applying taxes on the richest in the developed countries as well as the developing countries, overcoming the traditional north-south dualism. This correlation of forces could make the old and dominant correlation of forces led by corporations to step back, and would be a window of possibilities for social, political, economic and ecological transformation of our societies and its institutions on this planet earth.

Under this framework, we list three challenges in what follows. The first challenge is providing solutions that make the Paris Accords possible with a perspective that in the long term would allow fuel to stay underground. It is clear that it has taken a lot of time to reach these accords, the current goals are insufficient to save the planet, and the way that they propose to reduce CO2 is with a productivist and “green economy” vision. To introduce policies and decisions that would make the Paris Accords possible, it is important to understand the economic crisis, the social crisis and the ecological crisis as the crisis of capitalism; in doing so, replacing the economic fundamentalism in which we are trapped by a more holistic perspective of life. Without getting out of this trap, even solutions like clean energy (solar, geothermal, wind and others) will not prosper; likewise the critical perspectives of the member governments of ALBA countries, that with or without their own resources, continue without moving beyond economic fundamentalism.

The second challenge is preventing capitalism from using the Paris Accords as an open door to accumulate more based on its historical practice of appropriating nature and cheap labor. Part of that reality we have seen in the policies on protected areas in Latin America, as well as in many cases of titling indigenous territories, that have worked to dispossess the indigenous and Afro-descendent populations and peasant families of their lands[33]. And part of that modality is giving crumbs to the developing countries as a license to continue generating GHG, crumbs that are tied to mechanisms of “management by results”[34] out of an individualistic logic (e.g. given to the individual producer for planting trees on his farm), and eroding organizational expressions (cooperatives, associations and communal organizations) that especially rural societies have for resisting the dispossession mechanisms of large enterprises that are always ready to buy their land. This is a form of dispossession that is unfavorable not only to the developing countries, but to 80% of the world population that only has access to 17.2% of world income[35].

The third challenge is overcoming the nature/society dualism of the very actors historically considered “natural”, the peasant, indigenous and Afro-descendent families. The issue of climate change tends to appear as something very complex that leaves people with a sense of impotency, making them feel that human actions for change are so small in the face of something as large as climate change; and that ideological and slanted “campaign” on climate change has made indigenous and peasant families tend to “blame themselves” for climate change, something contrary to what is indicated in Graph 7[36]. That degree of complexity and insecurity that climate change generates, combined with self blame on the part of the peasant famiilies, can be counterproductive. Confronting this situation requires that we get beyond the idea that development can only be achieved by way of industrialization, showing that the peasant, indigenous and Afro-descendent way, a path of centuries of resistance to capitalism, in alliance with different actors, can mitigate climate change, and within it, the role for agriculture and forestry for absorbing GHG, mentioned previously, make the world see the importance of this peasant and indigenous social sector.

7. The Perspective of the peasant, indigenous and Afro-descendent families

How can we take up the challenges and mitigate climate change? The diversification strategies of these families, with their different variations (see Mendoza, 2004[37]), opposed to the mono-cropping system and extractivism, and including family and territorial organization with an emphasis on life connected to the land, are differentiating angles and practices for mitigating climate change.

From this perspective of diversity, territories, diversification, organization and connection to the land, and opposed to the technopols identified by Robinson (2003), we propose the construction of a “epistemic community” that, in the words of Marchetti (2015: 20), is an “continuous and more profound encounter of different ways of knowing, crossing over educational and geographical aspects, abandoning external prescriptions, the external canon of science and even the external canon of politics on climate-energy, and taking responsibility to formulate and adjust policies every year in different geographies and epistemic communities”. How can these epistemic communities be constructed? We respond to this question out of our involvement in work with rural organizations. First, leaders of peasant, indigenous and Afro-descendent organizations would organize their knowledge in a systematic and ongoing way, and do it in alliance with intellectuals of the south and the north; building a long term capacity that would expand, correct, generate and catalyze knowledge, leaving behind oral tradition and only being reactive movements in response to the extractivism and monocropping. The solutions for making the Paris Accords possible would come from this type of processes that develop long term capacities.

Second, their own capacity can be combined with experimentation and innovation processes of paths with different perspectives, and to the extent that their organizations consolidate based fundamentally on their own resources, and on resources generated by carbon capture. The PSA initiatives should be read in the light of this endogenous capacity, the practices of diversification, the logic of the territories where the population is taking care of the land, and the grassroots organizations that are expanding their management capacities of common goods. It is a matter of the families and populations being able to see climate change from their own lives, organizations and communities, mitigating climate change, instead of seeing themselves as minuscule beings in the face of “complex” and “uncertain” climate change, as isolated individuals enmeshed in abstract markets.

Third, with this capacity of producing knowledge and innovating forms of climate change mitigation as a different way of life, implying personal changes and organizational renovation, the peasant, indigenous and Afro-descendent families need to reconquer land areas, deepening their relationship with the land, expanding their territories as “the place of those who take care of the land”[38] under the premise that ecological, social and economic equity are inseparable, and that therefore gender, ethnic and generational inequality are parts of environmental degradation. Within this process, the state and organizational policies to mitigate climate change should respond to this perspective with crop rotation, diversification, the rollback of the mono-cropping system and extractivism, and social and economic equity. In this way that coordination of practices and policies will be the basis so that the Paris Accords are carried out and deepened to achieve a global warming goal of less than 1.5 0C, innovative ecological, social and economic practices are promoted, poverty and inequality are reduced, which is coherent with the Sustainable Development Objectives, not leaving even one poor person behind by 2030.

In conclusion, the poem quoted at the beginning of the text is from the Sàmi indigenous people, located in Norway, Switzerland, Finland and Russia, a people who are fighting to have their lands recognized. They remind us that even though we speak the language of the earth, that the key is connecting to the earth again and learning to relate to her. J. Laiti of the Sámi people states that recognizing that we belong to one another leads us to love life, use nature as the source of life, and convince ourselves that we live in – and we are made of – the earth[39]. This change of relationship with nature is possible if there are personal changes and organization renovation, as Pope Francis reminds us in his Encyclical Laudato Sí: “there will not be a new relationship with nature without a new human being.” And with these two steps, to take the third, following the African Proverb, “if you want to go quickly, go alone; if you want to go far, go accompanied.” In the face of the systematic harassment of corporations (market), the construction of epistemic communities with peasant families and indigenous and Afro-descendent peoples, groups that haver persisted this harassment for centuries, now developing their capacities for organizing and producing their knowledge and innovations, a process accompanied by a framework of global alliances, and by ongoing personal change, can really make a difference in mitigating climate change. This can get the best of the “undertow”. This is moving far ahead.

* René Mendoza (rmvidaurre@gmail.com) has a PhD in development studies, is a collaborator of the Winds of Peace Foundation (WPF) (http://peacewinds.org/research/), associate researcher of IOB-University of Antwerp (Belgium).

[1] This work has benefitted from the comments and suggestions of P. Marchetti, F. Huybrechs, G. Delmelle, K. Kuhnekath, D. Kaimowitz, J. Bastiaensen and T. De Herdt, as well as the reflections expressed in a workshop with leaders of rural organizations (cooperatives and associations), and representatives of organizations both inside and outside the country.

[2] Hardin, G., 1968, “the tragedy of the commons”, en: Science Vol. 162, No. 3859, pp. 1243-1248

[3] Olson, M., 1965, The Logic of the Collective Action. USA: Harvard University Press.

[4] Ostrom, E., 1990, Governing the Commons: The Evolution of Institutions for Collective Action. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press

[5] De Biase, L, 2014, 2014, “what scientific idea is ready for retirement?” en: Edge, https://edge.org/response-detail/25425

[6] Beck, U., 1986, La Sociedad del riesgo. Hacia una modernidad. Barcelona: Editorial Paidos

[7] This data we are taking from Marchetti, P.E., 2015, No Recipes for Planetary Crisis: Epistemic Communities and Climate/Energy Policy Architectures. Mimeo: Guatemala: URL

[8] For example, the second largest lake in Bolivia, Lake Poopó 2,337 km2 i in size, dried up in 2015 due to various causes, among them the El Niño phenomenon, pollution from mining and the diversion of rivers by producers on the Peruvian side using irrigation systems. See: http://www.bbc.com/mundo/noticias/2015/12/151223_ciencia_bolivia_lago_poopo_desaparicion_sequia_wbm Another example is the drought in California (United States) between 2012 and 2014, considered the worst drought in 1200 years, see: http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2014/12/141205124357.htm

[9] The following scientific study talks about the fact that sea levels could rise more than 5 meters and affect cities like London, Miami, Shanghai and New York. Hansen, J., Sato, M., Hearty, P., Ruedy, R., Kelley, M., Masson-Delmotte, V., Russell, G., Tselioudis, G., Cao, J., Rignot, E., Velicogna, I., Kandiano, E., von Schuckmann, K., Kharecha, P., Legrande, A.N., Bauer, M., y Lo, K. W., 2015, “Ice melt, sea level rise and superstorms: evidence from paleoclimate data, climate modeling, and modern observations that 2 _C global warming is highly dangerous” en: Atmos. Chem. Phys. Discuss., 15.

[10] Burke, M., Hsiang, M.S. and Miguel, E., 2015, “Global non-linear effect of temperature on economic production” in: Nature 527, Macmillan Publishers Limited

[11] See: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1241872/EXCLUSIVE-Inside-Chinas-secret-toxic-unobtainium-mine.html

[12] See: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-21432226

[13] Within this context, the notion of “unequal ecological exchange” shows that the developed countries outsource their consumption costs to developing countries, intensifying their environmental degradation. See: Jorgenson, A.K., 2006, “Unequal Exchange and Environmental Degradation A Theoretical Proposition and Cross-National Study of Deforestation” in: Rural Sociology 71.4

[14] Pickety, Th., 2015, Carbon and inequality: from Kyoto to Paris. Parish school of economics. http://piketty.pse.ens.fr/files/ChancelPiketty2015.pdf

[15] Also see: Reynolds, L., 2013, Agriculture and Livestock Remain Major Sources of Greenhouse Gas Emission en: Worldwatch Institute. http://www.worldwatch.org/agriculture-and-livestock-remain-major-sources-greenhouse-gas-emissions-0

[16] In 2004 President Lula Da Silva promised a deforestation reduction policy of 80%. Nepstad et al (2014) gives an accounting of it, that between 2005 and 2013 the deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon decreased by 70%, which prevented the emission into the atmosphere of 3.2 billion tons of carbon dioxide, and that in 2013 represented a reduction of 1.5% in global emissions. See: Nepstad, D., et al, 2014, “Slowing Amazon deforestation through public policy and interventions in beef and soy supply chains” in: Science Vol. 344, No. 6188 See also: the economist: http://www.economist.com/news/science-and-technology/21603409-how-brazil-became-world-leader-reducing-environmental-degradation-cutting

[17] P. Oquist (see: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uL53JDkek2g) justified the fact that Nicaragua had not turned it in: that the United Nations, in terms of climate change, does not have objective verification mechanisms for the expression of the individual will of the different countries; and because Nicaragua has low emissions and in addition is reducing it – in 2014 it only emitted 0.03% of gases, and that because of the increase in renewable energy (from 25 to 52%) the country saved 2.1 million tons of CO2, with which total gas emissions dropped to 4.8 million tons.

[18] See: http://www.c2es.org/international/2015-agreement/indcs

[19] This financing had already beeen approved in 2011 as the Green Climate Fund (GCF), as a financing mechanism of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC). See: http://finanzascarbono.org/financiamiento-climatico/canales-bilaterales-de-financiamiento/fondo-verde-para-el-clima/ The Paris Accord ratified this agreement.

[20] Monbiot, G., 2015, “Grand promises of Paris climate deal undermined by squalid retrenchments” in: The Guardian, December 12, 2015. http://www.theguardian.com/environment/georgemonbiot/2015/dec/12/paris-climate-deal-governments-fossil-fuels

[21] Milman, O., 2012, “James Hansen, father of climate change awareness, calls Paris talks ‘a fraud’” in: The Guardian December 12 2015. http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2015/dec/12/james-hansen-climate-change-paris-talks-fraud

[22] To read the chronology on climate change, see: http://www.un.org/climatechange/es/hacia-un-acuerdo-sobre-el-clima/ For a historical review of the “wave” (Paris Accords) and particularly the day to day of the Paris negotiations, see: Campos, V., 2016, “The Paris climate agreement is patently insufficient” in: Envio 415.

[23] Many protests and struggles in every country in the world. For a sample, see summary from the Avaaz movement https://secure.avaaz.org/es/climate_story_loc/?beAxNab&v=70850&cl=9162323010 and run for your life with Jenni Laiti: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ZR6kGNM_L0

[24] Verbruggen, A., 2015, Self-governance in global climate policy: An essay. University of Antwerp.

[25] Robinson, w., 2003, Transnational conflicts. Central America, Social change, and Globalization. London: Verso

[26] The 1997 Kyoto protocol legally linked the developed countries to the emission reduction objectives. It set goals for greenhouse gas reductions of 5%. The commitment period was 2008-2012, and 2013-2020. Only 37 countries (28 in Europe) signed this accord. The US Congress did not ratify it, and countries like China, one of the countries with the most emissions, were left out. By 2015 the 37 signature countries were able to reduce emissions by 22%.

[27] Monbiot, G., 2014, “The UK is making it a legal duty to maximise greenhouse gas emissions” in: The Guardian June 26, 2014. http://www.theguardian.com/environment/georgemonbiot/2014/jun/26/uk-legal-duty-maximise-greenhouse-gas-emissions

[28] Correa, R., 2015, “Por el hermano viento, por el aire, la nube, el cielo sereno y todo tiempo” in: Correos 7.42 Nicaragua: Instituto de comunicación Social.

[29] See: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uL53JDkek2g. For more reading on the proposal of the Government of Nicaragua published before the Paris Summit, see: Oquist, P., 2015, “La posición de Nicaragua” in: Correos 7.42. Nicaragua: Instituto de comunicación Social.

[30] Van Hecken, G., Bastiaensen, J. y Huybrechs, F., 2015 (“What’s in a name? Epistemic perspectives and Payments for Ecosystem Services policies in Nicaragua” in: Geoforum 63) discuss “epistemic circulation” to explain how the member countries of ALBA (Bolivarian Alternative) deal with conservationist environmental policies and then end up joining it. The authors observe in the case of Nicaragua how, in spite of the critical perspective of the government on the payment for environmental services (PSA), most of the PSA projects in the country have been carried out responding to the dominant perspective of being governed by the market.

[31] Moore, J. W., 2015, capitalism in the Web of life, United States: VersoBook.

[32] 7 scientísts and economists from England have proposed an Apollo type research program for the purpose of doing research that in 10 years would produce renewable and clean energy cheaper and free from CO2 emissions. This energy would be based on 3 pillars: renewable (especially solar and wind), nuclear power and “carbon capture”. They do it under the idea that by 2025 we would ensure that global warming be under 2 0C, otherwise they think that climate change will be catastrophic. See: D. King, J. Browne, R. Layard, G. O’Donnell,

  1. Rees, N. Stern and A. Turner, 2015, A GLOBAL APOLLO PROGRAMME TO COMBAT CLIMATE CHANGE.http://cep.lse.ac.uk/pubs/download/special/Global_Apollo_Programme_Report.pdf

[33] The dispossession is done not just by the extractive companies and monocropping enterprises, but also the institutions that started as alternatives. For example, many microfinance institutions present their portfolios as “green loans”, which by financing extensive livestock raising, instead contribute to this dispossession of land and territories; these same microfinance organizations do not give loans to indigenous populations nor to peasant families that are diversifying their production, and that are located in protected areas and indigenous territories, or cooperatives that have forest areas and that are prevented from touching even one tree.

[34] For a critical perspective, see: Chambers, R., 2014, “Perverse Payment by Results: frogs in a pot and straitjackets for obstacle courses” in: IDS, Sussex University.

https://participationpower.wordpress.com/2014/09/03/perverse-payment-by-results-frogs-in-a-pot-and-straitjackets-for-obstacle-courses/

[35] Data for 2007 taken from: Ortíz, I. and Cummins, M., 2011, Global Inequality:Beyond the Bottom Billion… New York: UNICEF. See: http://www.unicef.org/socialpolicy/files/Global_Inequality.pdf

[36] In a workshop with female and male leaders of rural organizations (January 2016), and representatives of academic and business institutions, the perspective of both groups was expressed differently.The first group, of the leaders, blamed themselves for climate change, attributing the causes to the “bad production practices”, “burning and cutting down trees”, “use of chemicals in agriculture”, and “the lack of education in families”, while the second group attributed the causes to “short term thinking”, “Companies” and “dependency on oil.”

[37] Mendoza, R., 2004, “Through the Looking Glass: Images of the Agricultural Frontier” in: Envio 273. Managua: IHCA-UCA. http://www.envio.org.ni/articulo/2182

[38] This phrase from women of the Afro-descendent community of La Toma del Cauca (Colombia), was picked up by Escobar (2016), “Desde abajo, por la izquierda y con la Tierra” in: Contrapuntos, Serie Desafíos Latinoamericano 7.

[39] See interview of Jenni Laiti in: http://uralistica.com/profiles/blogs/jenni-laiti-is-looking-out-for-s-mi-interests

We have to expand our thinking to understand the conflicts on the Coast

We have to expand our thinking to understand the conflicts on the Coast

 René Mendoza Vidaurre

 This researcher into the rural—and particularly indigenous—world
shares his unique perspective on the cultural aspects of the
North Caribbean Coast’s indigenous and mestizo populations
that underlie the land and other conflicts heating up there.

 I have visited the Caribbean Coast region many times during the 1980s and 90s and more recently through my work with a research team from the Central American University’s Nitlapan Institute, which has been in Bilwi, capital of the North Caribbean Coast Autonomous Region, since 2007. A few months ago we spent a number of days in the Mayangna community of Awas Tingni, talking to the people there, then crossed the Río Coco, which forms Nicaragua’s eastern border with Honduras, to talk to the mestizo peasant communities on the other side of that river. We also visited the Miskitu community of Saupuka on Nicaragua’s side of the same river, again crossing into Honduras to talk to the mestizos in Olancho.

I don’t pretend to be an expert on the Caribbean coast, but I’ve learned things in all these trips. My goal here is to contribute my grain of sand to the understanding of the situation there, particularly in the north, and to the search for long-term solutions to the current conflict over land.

Some pertinent background

First let’s look at some relevant dates in recent coast history starting with 1987, when the autonomy law was approved for the region. It was the best law that had ever been passed for indigenous peoples in Latin America and was an inspiration for many of them.

Then between 1991 and 1995, during the Violeta Chamorro government, lumber companies began coming in to exploit forests in various parts of the coast. Among them was Solcarsa, a Korean company that had been given a 60,000-hectare concession to extract lumber in territory that the Mayangna indigenous community of Awas Tingni considered its own, causing the community to file suit against the State of Nicaragua with the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights (IACHR). On August 31, 2001, the Inter-American Court of Human Rights ruled in favor of Awas Tingni and ordered the State to delimit, demarcate and title that community’s lands and adopt legislative, administrative and any other measures necessary to create an effective mechanism for delimiting, demarcating and titling the property of the other indigenous communities, in accordance with their customary law, values, customs and mores. That decision set an important juridical precedent favoring the territorial demands of indigenous peoples throughout Latin America.

The next important date, then, was December of the following year, when Nicaragua’s National Assembly bowed to that decision by approving Law 445 on the Communal Property Regime of the Indigenous Peoples and Ethnic Communities of the Atlantic Coast Autonomous Communities of Nicaragua and the Rivers Bocay, Coco, Indio and Maíz, setting another juridical precedent for the continent’s indigenous peoples. But while the law went into effect in January 2003, it was effectively ignored. February of the following year saw the firstviolent conflict between Miskitu community of Layasiksa and mestizos who had settled in their territory in the 1990s. Forty mestizo families were forcibly expelled, their houses burned down, their crops razed and people even wounded and killed.

The titling of indigenous lands finally got underway in 2005, with the first title covering five Mayangna territories within the Bosawás Biosphere Reserve. Finally, between 2008 and 2015, 37,252 square kilometers of indigenous lands were demarcated and titled in what is now legally and more accurately called the Caribbean coast. That vast expanse of land, larger than El Salvador’s total area of 20,742 square kilometers, covers 31% of Nicaragua’s national territory. In those same years many of those same territories were being declared “protected areas.”

Then came the hard part

After the demarcation and titling came the final phase, which the law terms saneamiento, or title clearance. This is the most complex part because it involves assuring that the titled territory ends up fully in the hands of its indigenous owners. The law establishes that some agreement must be reached with “third parties,” defined in four categories: those who have titles, never “possessed” their property but have “intended” to live on it since 1987; those holding an agrarian title—largely army and contra veterans demobilized after the war ended in 1990; those with titles of any kind that have some defect and are thus illegal; and those who simply settled on land with no title whatever. The law briefly laid out the parameters of the agreement for each category.

Parallel to the prolonged legal demarcation process, new mestizo peasant families continued to move into the indigenous territories, pushing the agricultural frontier further and further into the coast region. Some came over the northern mountain passes of Mulukukú and El Naranjo in the north of the country, then through what is known as the Mining Triangle (the three old mining towns of Bonanza, Rosita and Siuna), while others came through El Ayote and Nueva Guinea in the south. Each individual case must be resolved in line with the law’s guidelines in order for the indigenous people to effectively be the owners of their territories. And if those multitudinous individual cases weren’t enough, over the years more lumber companies have also come in with their machinery as have international cooperation agencies with their projects. In this tense situation, there has been no shortage of violent conflicts between indigenous people and mestizos.

Mestizos now outnumber indigenous people

Two devastating results of this complex dynamic are enormous deforestation of indigenous lands and the fact that the majority of indigenous territories are today occupied by mestizo families. Just one example of this is the emblematic community of Awas Tingni, whose successful case with the IACHR kicked off this whole titling process and whose 733 square kilometers makes it the largest community of what is now known as the Amasau Territory. In 2001, when it won its case and the right to demarcation, 95% of that territory was in Mayangna hands. But by last year, according to declarations to La Prensa by Awas Tingni leader Larry Salomón Pedro on July 25, the situation was reversed, with 92% now settled by mestizo families. When we visited there we could see the figure was only slightly exaggerated. We calculated a more realistic 80%-85%, still a very alarming and complex situation.

There are various explanations for the recent acts of violence on the coast, particularly in the north, as well as others that have been occurring for a very long time. I would like to discuss three, not to throw more fuel on the fire, but rather in the hope of contributing to the thinking on this issue, to open our minds to the search for long-term solutions since it’s very difficult to see any in the near future. We need to look to the future, but naturally understanding that it necessarily begins now…

The local explanation

The first explanation for the conflictiveness between indigenous people and mestizo settlers in the coast region is the one we hear constantly from the media, state officials, religious authorities and members of civil city. It reduces the causes to the local setting and attributes responsibility for the conflict exclusively to the two sides involved. It’s an interpretation very similar to the ones heard in Bolivia, Brazil, Guatemala, Mexico… in fact in all countries with indigenous populations. It’s also found in academia and in Robert Kaplan’s book The Ends of the Earth.

It’s commonly said that the settlers are looking for land to work and are fighting over it with indigenous families defined as lazy and unable and unwilling to work. The conflicts are equally commonly blamed on the determinism of historically warring groups trapped in their past, unable to shake it off without outside intervention that can ”save them” from themselves. This explanation flirts with racism, assuming that both the indigenous people and the peasant settlers are born violent, genetically predisposed to violence. Reducing the conflict to the local territory and the culture that defines them condemns them to be conflictive.

The land trade

Everything in this interpretation suggests that the immediate detonator of the conflict has been and is the land trade. Those who hold to this simplistic view insist that the solution is to punish the “sellers”—those who gave out the agrarian land titles for indigenous land or the lawyers who drew up illegal deeds for coast lands clearly defined in the laws as communal and inalienable—then proceed withthe title clearance process, understood as ordering the mestizo families to pack their bags and agree to be relocated elsewhere, with due compensation if they were swindled by unscrupulous lawyers. All those who interpret the situation from this legalistic perspective believe it’s the State’s responsibility to resolve it, and if it doesn’t then it’s simply part of the problem, not the solution.

Is this a correct perspective? It certainly seems neat enough. The indigenous peoples are the owners and the rest have to leave. But it’s not remotely that simple. It’s not even clear that the settlers’ departure will benefit the indigenous peoples.

A lot of third parties to expel…

A study called “Estudio Especial Sector Agropecuario en la Costa del Caribe Nicaragua” (Special Study of the Agricultural Sector in the Nicaraguan Caribbean Coast), done in 2013 by the very respected Caribbean Coast brothers Dennis and Marcos Williamson together with Edwin Taylor, notes that the total estimated coast population as of June 31, 2010, was 759,383 people, 77% of them mestizo. Of the remaining 23%, they list 17.8% as Miskito and 1.1% as Mayangna, mainly residing in the North Caribbean, and 3% Creole in the South Caribbean. The other 1.1% is made up of two other small groups, exclusively in the south: the Afro-Caribbean Garífunas, whose population is mainly concentrated in Honduras and Belize, and the Ramas, the coast’s third indigenous people. Can you imagine ridding such extensive territories of even a good part of the mestizo population, which is close to 585,000 people?

I say a “good part” because Article 36 of Law 445 says: “Third parties holding an Agrarian Title on Indigenous Lands who have occupied and possessed the land protected under this title have the right to continue possessing it as a matter of law. In case they intend to alienate the property, they shall sell the improvements to the community.” Okay then, a new mental exercise: is it possible to evict even the 50% of the mestizo population that doesn’t fall within that category defined in the law? To throw some 300,000 people off their lands? It might have been possible to move this number of people to new “national lands” 70, 50, perhaps even 40 years ago, but not anymore, because Nicaragua doesn’t have the land to keep extending the agricultural frontier. Those who have been continuing to push it in recent years have now reached the sea. There’s no more land for them to go to that isn’t already owned.

…and a lot of compensation to pay

And what about all those who received defective or illegal titles? The law says ”they will be compensated in order for them to return the lands to the affected indigenous communities.” Is it possible to compensate so many people? Let’s suppose that half of the 37,000 square kilometers—some 16,000—that have been demarcated and titled have to be indemnified. That amounts to 1.6 million hectares. If those who paid lawyers for bum titles are compensated at a conservative $200 per hectare, the operation would cost the State $320 million. Is that manageable? And if it were, would all the evicted families accept that amount and leave their farms with a smile on their face, giving up the houses they built, the improvements they made in pasture land and crops, leaving their churches, their friends, their lives?

And even if all that were viable, can we reasonably assume that so many other landless families “in line” for some place to settle wouldn’t move in to fill those “empty” territories?

The transnational explanation

A second interpretation of the conflicts taking place on the coast is that the problem is as global as it is local and that its causes are transnational, transcending borders. We are in fact currently seeing similar problems of conflict and violence all over Latin America because transnational corporations want to extract the resources in indigenous territories and the governments are granting them permits to do so.

The coast’s early taste of transnationalism

Nicaragua’s “Mosquitia,” as the region was known during colonial times, was historically autonomous. It wasn’t conquered by Spain and was a protectorate of Great Britain under its indirect rule until the British government and the recently independent Nicaraguan government signed a treaty in 1860 in which the former recognized Nicaragua’s sovereignty over the coast. It renounced its protectorate in exchange for the autonomy of the Mosquitia territory (drawn much smaller and redefined as a Reserve) and respect for the Mosquito monarchy Britain had created nearly two centuries earlier. In 1894 that Reserve was invaded by troops from Managua and officially annexed. Its days of autonomy were over. Great Britain relinquished its last claims there in the 1905 Harrison Altamirano Treaty, which guaranteed the native populations exemption from taxes and military service and the right to live in their ancestral territories and villages according to their own customs.

The British and then US interest in maintaining economic enclaves in the coast had a geopolitical aspect. Of course, all world powers still have geopolitical, geostrategic and geo-economic interests in all territories where natural resources abound. The megaprojects and huge mining or lumbering investments we’re seeing all over Latin America today are a continuation of what Nicaragua’s Caribbean coast experienced from the late 1700s until the revolution, first with British mahogany operations and later with North American mining, pine lumbering and shellfish exporting…

Colonizing is an informal means of conquest…

So if the coast conflict isn’t only local or even national, but also transnational, the solution isn’t limited to the use of formal diplomatic means or even of wars between States, because there are also informal paths of conquest. When the United States conquered a good part of Mexican territory in what is today southwest USA, it first sent many settlers to slowly take over lands and make life difficult for the Mexicans for years. Not until 1846 did the US government initiate war with Mexico as the formal means of conquest. In the case of Nicaragua’s Caribbean region, mestizos began migrating after 1894 to take the job posts opened up by the ”incorporation” of the coast into the national structures.

…and so are market mechanisms

Today we know that another informal route of conquest is via market mechanisms.   And this raises the question of why so many mestizos from the Pacific and central parts of Nicaragua have been migrating toward the Coast in such massive numbers in recent decades…

Starting in 1990, Nicaragua experienced harsh structural adjustment policies, like the rest of our continent’s countries: the State’s role was reduced, public services were privatized and the role of social movements was annulled. There was no credit for small-scale production, technical assistance to the rural population was privatized, and even today the bulk of the agricultural credit portfolio, be it of the private commercial banks or micro-financing institutions, goes mainly to develop extensive cattle ranching, a model still based on multiplying the herd not with more efficient practices but rather through “second farms”: buying land from small farmers or pushing them off their lands and cutting down one forest after another. The logic has been the same all over Latin America, whether for growing crops or for raising cattle: increase production by increasing the areas exploited.

With credit canceled for small farmers, the structural adjustment programs caused our poorest rural population to experience what Pope Francis denounced in his UN speech as the “abuse or usury” applied to the poor countries. The pope explained that the international financing institutions (IFIs) have credit systems that punish countries with “oppressive lending systems which, far from promoting progress, subject people to mechanisms which generate greater poverty, exclusion and dependence.” But it’s not only the IFIs; the policies of the private commercial banks asphyxiate the poor as well. We’ve seen it in Nicaragua and we’re still seeing it.

Beef for export, not grains to eat

The structural adjustment programs didn’t stimulate the production of basic foods. To the contrary, they made export products the motor of the economy, with a special focus on cattle. In all Central American countries, cattle became the privileged category for credits by both the IFIs and the private national banks to increase beef exports to the north.

This was analyzed as early as 1981 by environmental researcher Norman Myers in his study “The Hamburger Connection: How Central America’s Forests Became North America’s Hamburgers.” With fast food the answer to the quick lunch imposed in the United States to increase workers’ productivity and performance, the hamburger was the ideal meal. Myers documented a 50% increase in the annual average consumption of beef in the United States between 1960 and 1976, at a time when Central America began to export cheaper beef to the north. Caribbean forests were converted into pasture land to raise cattle for hamburgers… From this transnational vision it’s only a small leap to thinking we all have something to do with the conflict in the coast.

IFIs such as the World Bank financed the development of extensive cattle ranching in Central America, which benefited from an estimated 60% of the credit granted to the region’s governments between 1960 and 1983. The market set the demand and Central America provided the supply. It’s curious that only a few years later these same IFIs have appeared defending the titling of indigenous territories and the conservation of the forests… Are we to believe they changed?

Cattle pushed peasants off their land

These structural adjustment policies led half a million impoverished Nicaraguans to leave their lands and emigrate to Costa Rica while an important number of families preferred to push Nicaragua’s agricultural frontier ever further eastward, occupying or “buying” lands from other peasant families or settling in indigenous territories.

The global market’s trends expel not only families, but also entire communities. Seeing how profitable cattle can be, ranchers decide to multiply the lands dedicated to them. They push into new areas, buying second and third farms that will later be first farms for their sons (hardly ever their daughters), who will in turn seek their own second farms. This global market dynamic provokes situations like the one I describe below.

The bankrupting dynamic of big business

With the market demand for beef, the market for dairy products also develops, and when it opens new roads so the big dairy companies’ trucks can reach the communities of small farmers to collect their milk, those communities paradoxically end up going broke. Here’s a typical dynamic: the community’s cheesemaker, who gets her milk from locals who raise a few cows as well as pigs and also plant maize and beans and other crops, goes broke because the large companies coming in on the new road pay more for the milk than she can, so of course the small farmers no longer sell to her. But with the cheesemaker out of business they no longer get whey from her to feed their pigs and when they have an emergency they can’t turn to her for a loan because she no longer has any money. It’s a dynamic that has repeated itself in rural district after rural district.

Little by little the community economy erodes and finally they all start selling their land, going further and further into the mountains to start again on different land. They fell all the trees to create pastureland so they can raise cattle because they know that will make them money, unlike the forest, and they also know they can get immediate credit for cattle, again unlike for the forest or for cacao… It’s a domino effect that starts with cattle and ends with the hamburger connection and beyond…

So goes this world. In the 1970s Muy Muy was a major mountain pass and therefore a center of commerce. In the 90s that commerce moved to Matiguás, and Muy Muy began to decline. The next decade Río Blanco was the up-and-coming trade center, and since 2010 Mulukukú and Siuna have been emerging as the important mountain passes for trade with those living deep in the hills. That dynamic has also been seen on the eastern side of the northern mountain range: in the 1970s El Tuma was a power, in the 90s it was La Dahlia, in the first decade of the new century it was Waslala and now we’re seeing growth in El Naranjo, on the route to the Mining Triangle.

The same thing happens to families

What happens to places also happens to families. The peasant families from the center of the country called settlers, many of them also of indigenous heritage, explain that they are “like rocks tumbling downhill.” And it’s true: they bounce from farm to farm, each one on less fertile land. One told me: “My grandfather had a little farm in Matiguás, my parents had one in Mulukukú, I have one in Rosita and now my children are in Awas Tingni.”

What can stop those rocks tumbling one after another in an avalanche on a downward slope—not only in Nicaragua but in all countries—because of the market mechanisms accompanied by technology, publicity, research… And these market mechanisms aren’t just pushing cattle-raising; they’re also pushing the cultivation of coca in the TIPNIS territory in Bolivia and soybeans in Brazil’s Amazonia, the extraction of petroleum in Ecuador’s Amazonia… And behind the coca, the soy, the petroleum, the gold and the lumber are actors who are as local as they are global and policies that are as national as they are transnational.

Each locality is a globality

What can stop this? Does anybody really think that getting a good part of the settlers out of the coast will halt that avalanche on its way to the bottom? We’ve already begun to see that the way this world is going now, no actors are acting alone; we’re all interlinked and each locality is a globality.

Cattle ranching interweaves actors from Waspám in the Caribbean Coast to Guatemala, Mexico and the United States. Much of the cacao cultivated in Rama for the German chocolate company Ritter Sport is interwoven with local and global actors. And the same can be said of the gold being extracted in Bonanza or the lumber again coming out of Awas Tingni.

Forests up for grabs?

I can still hear the words of one of those who in the early 1990s were promoting the declaring of ”protected areas” in Nicaragua: “After declaring Bosawás a reserve, we realized there were indigenous populations living inside it that we’d forgotten all about.” But since those were the years of greater consciousness of the value of Latin American’s indigenous people due to the quincentennial celebration/commemoration of the Conquest, had the indigenous people really been forgotten? I don’t think so. The dominant conservationist ideology assumes the forest is the natural result of self-regulation, the same concept conventional economists have about the market. And consonant with that rationale, there’s no reason whatever to consult the indigenous people, since it assumes that indigenous people didn’t produce the forest and don’t belong to it. If that mentality were to recognize that the forests have owners, the market would have problems patenting medicines based on the plants found in them, for example.

Very similar forestry and environmental laws started popping up from Latin America to Africa. Sheer coincidence? Hardly. These laws obey policies that are both national and transnational, allowing the global and national markets to appropriate vast extensions of land and natural resources. With these laws, rivers and forests, even protected areas with already-titled lands are being privatized. These same laws, however, make it very difficult for either indigenous people or peasant families to request permits to exploit lumber. Those who get the permits are the big lumber companies from developed countries that extract quantities of timber with one hand while supporting “development,” “governance,” “gender equity” and “sustainability” projects with the other… So goes the world, provoking an undetainable avalanche of ”rocks.”

The heterogeneous interpretation

Now let’s look at the third interpretation of the causes of the conflicts in the Caribbean Coast. This one takes into account the heterogeneity of the indigenous populations inhabiting that area of the country and their world visions, which are incompatible with market logic. It is very simplistic to see indigenous peoples as a mass, quoting Marx’s reference to the great mass of the French nation, one “formed by the simple addition of homologous magnitudes, much as potatoes in a sack form a sack of potatoes,” all equal, all alike.

It’s very important to take into account that there have historically been tensions among the different indigenous peoples living in the Caribbean coast. The relations between certain Mayangna and Miskitu groups, for example, have traditionally been tense and charged with suffering, with the Mayangnas generally getting the worst of it, expelled by British-armed Miskitus from their original territories over the centuries and pushed to distant places. While that inter-indigenous tension has been ongoing, it doesn’t involve all Miskitus or all Mayangnas.

Miskitu-Mayangna-Solcarsa conflict

When the community of Awas Tingni sued the State of Nicaragua for having let Solcarsa into its territory, it did so after a Miskitu group from a neighboring community made a deal with that lumber company, allowing it to enter a territory that wasn’t Miskitu. Seeing their territory in danger, the Mayangnas filed suit with support from international cooperation. Then in 2009, a year after the titling of the Mayangna territory named Amasau, a group of Miskitus tried to take over part of it. Awas Tingni responded by seeking support from the mestizo families settled there to act as “human boundary markers” and impede the Miskitu advance. Thus the Mayangnas defended their territory with mestizo help. When the following year the MPINICSA lumber company began to extract lumber from Awas Tingni through an agreement with Miskitu groups, the Mayangnas again resisted.

According to one Mayangna leader, all those tensions have created a feeling in the community that “the land isn’t worth it”; that “sooner or later they’re going to take it away from us.” That has accelerated the sale of Mayangna lands to mestizos. As we can see, the recent tensions have their antecedents in tensions experienced both recently and centuries ago that still carry weight today.

The churches undervalued cultural practices

The relations between the Creole and Miskitu populations have also been difficult and explain many of the existing tensions, including in the universities and the churches. Because they speak a brand of English, the Creoles have had an advantage over the Miskitus by relating more easily to the companies and churches that came to the coast in the last century and have now linked up better with the international cooperation projects.

The Moravian Church in Bilwi was originally for both Creoles and Miskitus, but their different cultural identities grew stronger and further apart until they went their separate ways and now there are separate Moravian churches for the two groups. Reynaldo Figueroa, vice rector of the Bluefields Indian and Caribbean University admits that the churches and their authorities didn’t know how to accompany and take into account these two different cultures. It was as if being Christian meant ceasing to be Miskitu or Creole. Given the recent conflicts it’s important that the religious sectors call for dialogue and do it well. No one knows better than they how difficult dialogue is, as they have at times ended up divided themselves.

The churches have had to learn to take the indigenous peoples’ cultures into consideration. One example is the sukias, the wise traditional healers who are very deeply rooted in the culture and organization of the indigenous peoples. Considering them diabolic “sorcerers,” the churches, particularly the Moravian Church, opposed them to such a degree that they drove them underground and today it is debated whether sukias even exist in the communities anymore. The churches censured many of the most cherished celebrations in the Miskitu culture, and took a long time to come around to valuing those traditions. Can you imagine a foreign religion coming in, obliging you to renounce your religion, maligning your symbols and spiritual practices? Again, though, we need to remember that nothing is ever black and white. As recently as 30-40 years ago, when the coast was still mainly occupied by its traditional indigenous peoples and Afro-descendant groups, they considered the Moravian Church the coast’s “national church” due to its steadfast defense of the inhabitants against assimilation efforts by the succession of central governments.

Interplay between groups and individuals

But just as the situation on the coast shouldn’t be seen as a single and simple problem with an easy situation, neither should we see each human group living there as a separate sack of potatoes. Not all Miskitus are homogenous, nor are all Mayangnas, Creoles, mestizos, Ramas or Garífunas. There are Miskitu cattle ranchers as well as mestizo cattle ranchers; some Mayangnas are involved in the trade in wild animals as are some mestizo families; there are Mayangna and Miskitu families that live separately on their little farms just as mestizo families do, and there are Miskitus and Mayangnas who live in communities. Independent of their cultural origin, cattle ranchers respond to the logic of the market, where what matters is money. The cattle rancher doesn’t see trees, he sees cows, and he wants as many “as there are stars in the sky,” as the famous hacendado Señorito Malta was fond of saying in the Brazilian TV serial play “Roque Santeiro.”

Cultural self-identities

That, however, is not to say that cultural self-identities and perspectives don’t distinguish the groups that cohabit the Caribbean coast. While the different cosmovisions and cultural patterns on the coast are ever more permeated, they are still strong.

The mestizo culture is agri-culture

The logic of a mestizo family that has come from communities in the center of the country, albeit not necessarily in a single bound, and has claimed less than 50 hectares of land, is to make improvements on that land, which it sees as its own possession. This newly arrived family starts by planting maize and beans then within three or four years turns that land, once covered in forests and not very apt for crops, into natural grassland and begins to graze cattle on it, clearing still more land for basic grains or plantains. Its mentality is to diversify its crops for self-subsistence and have a few large and small livestock, so it’s never without its pigs and hens. Its dream is to turn that plot into a farm and its strategy is to live there and improve it with the sweat of the family labor. For mestizos, the value of the land resides in how many improvements and investments they can make in it. Their culture is agri-culture.

The Mayangna culture is forest-culture

In general Mayangna families live in communities and value the forest, water and land as the space that gives them everything in life: food, medicines and material for their houses and canoes. Many of their communities are located in the mountainous mining triangle, near rivers, which are for fishing, recreation, bathing and washing their clothes. Inside the forest they have areas where they plant beans, cassava and other root crops, plantains, etc. They also diversify crops and move from one place to another to cultivate, but without affecting either the forest or the water. Their sense of land ownership isn’t the same as that of the mestizos. Their culture is forest-culture.

The Miskitu culture is freshwater-, saltwater- and plains-culture

The culture of the Miskitus, who occupy a much larger area in the northern Caribbean coast, is more nuanced than that of the Mayangnas, influenced by the lifestyle evolved over time where they live. Although like the Ramas and Mayangnas they understand land as communal territory, not an individual plot, they themselves define three distinct sub-cultures: those who live in fishing communities along the seacoast (“saltwater”) or the rivers (“freshwater”) or in agricultural communities in the largely treeless plains north of Bilwi and south of Waspam.

The Afro-Caribbean culture is water-culture

The Creole and Garífuna populations came to the Caribbean coast in ships as slaves. They came by sea and still today find economic and cultural solutions in the sea. The rural Garífuna and Creole communities in the south Caribbean region have always been tied to fishing in the sea or lagoons, which is ever harder now given the voracious globalization of fishing and its wasteful techniques. Urban Creoles have always forged relations with transnational fishing companies or cruise ships, facilitated by their English skills, be it Creole or “standard” English, depending on their schooling. Many young Creoles, both men and women, dream of “shipping out” for months at a time, doing whatever job they can get. Those from Bluefields and the Corn Islands have always felt very close to the population of the Caribbean islands, and communication between them has always been very fluid. Their culture is water-culture.

Different values for different peoples

Figuratively, we can see the Creoles moving in ships by sea, the coast’s three indigenous peoples in canoes by river through the forests, and the mestizos on horseback over their farms. Creoles without water, indigenous peoples without forests and peasants without land are beings without a soul. What has value for the coast’s indigenous peoples is the forest and what it contains; while for the cattle ranchers it’s their herd roaming the cleared land; for the peasants, the improvements they’ve made on their plot; and for Afro-Caribbeans the seas and lagoons teeming with fish. In short, very different visions of the same region and its uses.

You are what you eat

The mestizo peasants are children of corn. The Miskitus and Mayangnas are children of wabul, a sort of porridge made of mashed plantain or peach palm with fish or coconut oil. And the Afro-descendants are children of rondon or rundown, a fish soup with root vegetables cooked in coconut milk.

The superstructure is getting top-heavy while community organization gets weaker

Something that needs to be kept very much in mind when interpreting what’s happening in the Caribbean Coast and visualizing the difficulties of a short-term solution is the erosion suffered by the organization of all the peoples on the coast, be they indigenous, Afro-descendant or mestizo peasant. In formal terms, there are more laws, more regulations and more authorities for the indigenous peoples, layers upon layers of power: at the community level there are the wihtas (judges) and the síndicos (in charge of dealing with local resource and environmental issues); then moving upward are the municipal governments, the new territorial governments, the two regional governments, and of course the powerful national government. With respect to political or socio-cultural representation, there are also the Council of Elders, the regional indigenous party Yatama and the churches.

Many of these structures came in with the autonomy, while the traditional local organizations and authorities in the communities have eroded and their functions have changed. The Councils of Elders, síndicos and wihtas must now respond more outside of their communities and territories, while the control mechanisms of their own communities have been weakened.

Among other things this weakening presupposes that the communities can’t pressure as strongly for transparent accountability over the income entering from agreements on their resources. Sadly, the families seem to have made their peace with that by rotating síndicos in many communities: “We change them each year so others can grab something too.” Over time the reason for organizing has shifted from the need to resolve shared difficulties to having posts to benefit from, giving people the vision that even community organization has more to do with money than anything else.

Their own traditional forms of organization, including the sukias and other local authorities, and the standards ruling the communities over the past two centuries have all suffered the same erosion. Many cultures in the world have taken advantage of ideas and resources from national and international organizations to strengthen their own culture and organization, but in the coast, money; the imposition of the cross, particularly with the new churches that have come in; the caciquismo of the past 70 years; and the decade-long war of the eighties, displacing whole communities, dividing families and causing tens of thousands of refugees in neighboring countries have all weakened and unbalanced these populations, shattering their traditional sense of cultural, physical and communal harmony. We shouldn’t find it strange that indigenous leaders are currently being charged with selling legally unsaleable indigenous lands, or with participating in lumber businesses that are devastating the forests. They aren’t just individual crimes; we need to understand that their roots extend backwards beyond the present and are linked to both national and transnational social irresponsibility.

Obstacles to civilization… or is “civilization” an obstacle?

If we don’t take all this into account, we’ll continue reading the conflict in erroneous ways. Centuries ago it was thought that indigenous and Afro-descendant peoples were not very civilized, to say the least, and were enemies of progress. Many of those on Nicaragua’s Pacific side, for example, still see the Caribbean coast populations as “backward,” still in pre-development phases far from modernity, a view frequently found throughout Latin America. Peru’s Nobel Prize winner Vargas Llosa, a modern liberal intellectual, takes that thinking to another level when he says indigenous peoples aren’t only “backward” but actually an “obstacle” to civilization, harking back to the 19th-century thinking of Argentina’s Sarmiento, who believed the indigenous population of his country would have to be eliminated if Argentina was to develop.

There’s a theory in the academic literature called “path dependence.” It holds that once a path is decided upon there’s no turning back and that any claims, demands or protests strengthen rather than change the initial decision… until at some moment another crossroads is reached that opens new options, and a new decision has to be made.

We could apply this theory to our old and deeply rooted ideas to understand the coast’s indigenous, Afro-descendant and peasant populations.   But people criticizing and questioning that outmoded viewpoint only reinforced it. Laws were passed all over Central America to promote coffee and cattle that involved expropriating indigenous lands and obliging its historical owners to work for free, otherwise they were considered shirkers and jailed. As this viewpoint persists even today, we continue hearing what the market currently tells us: “The indigenous peoples will disappear, as will the peasantry; history cannot be stopped” …unless, that is, we are now coming up to another crossroads and are capable of breaking that thinking, expanding our view and changing mentalities.

Let’s try putting ourselves in their shoes

Those of us who like to call ourselves friends of indigenous peoples must revise our thinking. Academics and consultants acting in solidarity with indigenous peoples are doing studies with them full of ideas about “gender,” “payment for environmental services,” “governance,” “resilience,” “sustainable livelihoods,” “land tenure” or “empowerment,” all of which are theories invented outside their reality, although backed with resources. We’re studying their reality on the go, without ever stopping to listen to them.

To decide what has to be done to start resolving the tensions on the Caribbean coast, let’s put ourselves for a moment in the place of its indigenous families. They’ve seen their forest areas shrunk, the animals in the forest disappear, the water levels in the rivers fluctuate, the fish and shellfish catches dwindle, and more and more international cooperation projects depart. They know the lumber business has dropped somewhat and the soil fertility isn’t what it used to be or doesn’t yield what it used to, yet they’re seeing ever more people living in their territory. In short, they have less food, less money and less land with which to make ends meet. Obviously their desperation is mounting. But on the other hand, if all the mestizo communities leave the territory, where will they get the cash to buy salt, sugar, clothes…?

Now let’s try to think like them. We, for example, are comfortable with the concept of “land tenure,” but it doesn’t even exist in the indigenous vocabulary; they don’t conceive of someone “owning” a piece of land… The concept means nothing to them because it assumes that land equals individual ownership, with marking posts and deeds, even if written on wrinkled paper with a few signatures. They can understand owning a piece of paper, but not the land.

Do the majority of the indigenous communities have individual plots of land? Of what I’ve understood from being among them, land is at the same time communal and individual, tangible and intangible. The concept of land isn’t just the ground, but includes forest and water. It’s not just a place; it’s life itself. In Managua we talk about “my property” whereas indigenous families say “our territory,” and in so doing their sense of possession is different than ours, which is very influenced by market logic. Our way of seeing separates land from forest, land from life, communities from their surroundings. Certainly for the indigenous communities, also for the rural-based Afro-descendants, and I’d even go so far as to say for peasant families, market logic doesn’t explain everything, nor is it what most moves them.

Understanding the indigenous peoples requires expanding our view. It means submerging ourselves. It means putting ourselves in the shoes of a Mayangna or Miskitu community. With few exceptions they’ve never experienced individual property enclosed with barbed wire or cord fences. As families they’ve always worked on a little area for three or four years then moved to another so the first one can regenerate, always back and forth within the same territory, to plant, to exist. They’ve heard the words “manzana” or “hectare” of land and know they refer to land measurements, but they’ve never used them because they’ve never needed them. Nor do they use the words “buy” and “sell” in relation to land, because they’ve never bought land nor has it entered their heads to sell what they have. When the mestizo families came and told them they wanted to buy land and the indigenous people agreed to sell them some, they didn’t believe it meant “take over ownership” of that land. They thought it meant the peasants were paying to be able to plant there for two or three years, like they do. And they didn’t know that 20 or 50 hectares was something quite so big or that the mestizos were going to pound in border markers and not allow them into that big area anymore to hunt or look for medicinal herbs… So now what are they supposed to do? As you can see, a lot of misunderstandings underlie these conflicts.

Build bridges of dialogue

What’s the way out of the coast conflict? In my view, the first thing we have to do is recognize the complexity of that reality. It isn’t any one of the three interpretations I described above; it’s some of all of them and more. A dialogue needs to be proposed, one that starts at home, in the hope we’ll know how to listen to each other and that the universities and churches will be self-critical. The universities need to review their curricula and the churches need to recognize the existence of multiple spiritualties and surmount their own divisions. Only by accepting the complexity and being self-critical can they help build bridges of dialogue.

Speaking to the US Congress, Pope Francis pointed out to the legislators that “your duty is to build bridges.” We have to build some to understand what’s happening in the Caribbean coast. I think one bridge has to be built that reduces both the economic and cultural inequalities among all in Nicaragua. Despite the deforestation and the advance of the cane or peanut haciendas, immense spaces where there are no trees, there are trees on peasant farms. I believe we have to build a bridge between peasant families and indigenous communities based on environmental care in order to address climate change.

Land rental?

Building bridges to complete the title clearance stage established in Law 445 could involve a land rental project. If it were established that non-indigenous people cannot have more than 50 hectares of land in indigenous territories, we might just find the beginning of a solution, because the big cattle ranchers who want 500, 1,000 or even 3,000 hectares won’t want to be there. If a maximum of 50 hectares could be agreed on and the peasant families had to pay an annual rent per hectare, this could be a bridge; it would give land to the mestizos and money to the indigenous communities. But for this to provide a solution, the indigenous organizations would have to strengthen themselves so the rent money they receive from the mestizos would be transparently administered and there would be at least minimum social auditing by the community. Unless the indigenous organizations improve, any resource coming in would only endanger the communities.

A land rental project, which is contemplated in Law 445, would be compatible with the peasant families diversifying their crops and combining annuals with perennials large and small livestock with patches of forest. By the same token, if some indigenous families want to diversify their own productive activities, they shouldn’t need more than 50 hectares per family in addition to the communal patches of forest and receiving incentives for maintaining them, being paid for their “environmental services” in line with the Sustainable Development Objectives the United Nations just approved as the 2030 Agenda. That would produce a bridge, an alliance of indigenous peoples, peasants and Afro-descendants.

Adversity can bring opportunity

There are conflicts in the coast, but the word conflict has two sides: confrontation and cooperation. Bridges are built looking at the cooperation side. There are always opportunities behind adversities and I believe the current conflict on the coast is an opportunity to learn and to change.

The solutions to the coast’s problems can’t be black and white. We have to find creative ways to get out from under this tension. There have to be social arrangements that allow some bridges. Only societies that organize themselves manage to advance and get laws that really improve their lives. But in the 1980s the revolution taught us that without communities that claim and demand their rights, without women and men who help build their own destiny, the approval of the best laws and application of the fairest measures mean nothing. Bringing in resources will serve for naught. The history of struggle of so many peoples has taught us that there’s no point fighting for good laws if afterwards we don’t participate in their application. The current dynamic on the coast is an opportunity to learn. And the more we learn, the more we’ll be able to change.

It helps to recall the old idea of stewardship: of being aware that we have a short life in this world and therefore have to work for our society and our planet in those few years; we have to give the best of ourselves to sow more and better life. And to do that well, the most urgent thing is to learn. Metanoia is the translation of the Greek word for both learn and change. It’s also a word that appears in the Gospel as a synonym for conversion, for change of heart.

Time to learn; time to change

To learn is to change. And to learn something you have to get to the bottom of it, to investigate, scrutinize, analyze, discern it. The market and its power today is a human project and that means we can change it. Uruguay has succeeded in increasing its production of dairy products by more than 50% without deforesting. How did they do it? By changing with the knowledge that makes us change.

We will only change with human communities and organizations that learn. It isn’t right to defend “indigenous culture” blindly against the market, nor is it honest to defend “the market” at the cost of indigenous cultures. Something combined and creative has to emerge. We must produce something new as a fruit of this conflict and so many others happening all over the world. It’s time to learn; time to change.

René Mendoza Vidaurre (rmvidaurre@gmail.com) is a research associate of IOB-Antwerp University (Belgium) and of the Nitlapan-UCA Research and Development Institute, (Nicaragua) and works with the Wind of Peace Foundation (http://peacewinds.org/research/). He specializes in facilitating organizational innovation and development processes.

From: www.envio.org.ni vol. 34. No. 411

Autonomy and the Multiethnic Country in Decisive Moments

Autonomy and the Multiethnic Country in Decisive Moments

René Mendoza Vidaurre, Nora Sánchez, Celia Benjamín, Jairo Zelaya. Klaus Kuhnekath and Alejandro Pikitle*

Mahoney (2001)[i] defines “critical juncture” as the moment of contingency in which a decision is made for one of various options, an institution that is self-reinforcing and that is challenged through the processes of reaction and counter-reaction, reaching new results. In terms of the Atlantic Coast we are watching two “critical junctures”, the first in the context of liberal policies of annexation of the Mosquitia Reserve in 1894; and the second, the autonomy law within the context of a war in 1987, resulting in a multiethnic Nicaragua. This process was reinforced in 2001 with the decision of the Interamerican Human Rights Commission (IHRC) in favor of Awastingni, and in 2003 with Law 445 for the titling and demarcation of communal lands. As a result, by mid 2014, 37,190 km2 of Indigenous and Afro-descendent territory (31% of the national territory) had been demarcated, restoring the rights of 304 communities. Under this framework we argue here that the multiethnic country is facing a new “critical juncture” whose decision will mark the decades that follow.

Multiethnic territory under challenge

The titling and demarcation of territories has been preceded and accompanied by the advance of the agricultural frontier and the systematic extraction of natural resources by large businesses. Two cases illustrate something about this complex situation. The case of the community of Awastingni (AMASAU territory) with around 69,000 hectares, between 2001 and 2015 went from controling 95% of their area to less than 15%, and the mestizo families from controlling 5% to 85% (according to Larry Salomón Pedro, Mayangna leader, 92% “is invaded by settlers”, LP-25-07-2014 http://www.laprensa.com.ni/2014/07/25/nacionales/204699-piden-saquen-a-colonos); and that less than 15% is area divided up among Mayangna families. In practice there is no communal territory, except legally under the territorial title. And the case of the Miskitu communities of Saupuka, Ulwas and Bilwaskarma, with the change in the course of the Rio Coco caused by Hurricane Mitch (1998), with that river defined as the “dividing line between Nicaragua and Honduras” (http://www.laprensa.com.ni/2012/06/22/nacionales/105922-si-el-rio-se-mueve-se-mueve-la-frontera), they lost 4,400 hectares that have been occupied by Honduran landowners from Olancho.

The causes that led to these results are reduced to blaming the “mestizo invaders” and the natural phenomenon of Hurricane Mitch, and from within this framework “compensation” policies are proposed, that the State expel the mestizos and negotiate with the Honduran government so that the “dividing line” be where the river used to flow. In what follows we seek other explanations and then sketch out a proposal.

The weight of structures and actors

The history, production systems, markets and forms of organization explain the situation presented above. Concerning the former, Mayangna-Miskitu relationships have been tense historically, including expulsions from one territory to another, and even had to do with the change of name from Sumo to Mayangna. In reference to Awastingni in 1991 a group of Miskitus participated in an arrangement with the Solcarsa company to extract wood from Awastingni, the same happened in 2003 with Madensa, situations which led the Mayangnas to sue the State in the IHRC; in 2009, a year after the titling of the AMASAU territory, a group of Miskitus tried to take part of the AMASAU, were prevented from doing so with the support of mestizos that the Mayangnas called “human boundary stones”; and in 2010 the Mpinicsa wood company started an agreement with Miskitu groups to extract wood from Awastingni, which was resisted by the Mayangnas. These relationships, according to a Mayangna leader, created a sense that “the land is not going to be respected”, with this accelerating the Mayangnas taking the land and selling it to mestizos.

In the case of the Miskitu of Saupuka, Ulwas and Bilwaskarma, the “hacienda” institution has made itself felt; a good part of the areas today claimed by them prior to 1980 were a livestock ranch of a Creole family, and since 2006 claimed by ranchers from Olancho. The persistence of the hacienda, which many times caused confrontations with the Miskitu communities of Nicaragua and Honduras, is well known in Latin America for its economic, social and political despotic relationships. In other words, with or without the change in the course of the river, most of these areas have been governed by the haciendas.

In terms of the production system, the Mayangna families have their yamak where they plant beans (and plaintains), a yamak that annually rotates from one place to another, and that has responded to their consumption needs, while they have looked for money in cash to buy their salt or clothing by working in the banana fields and in mining (1950-70s), for the State (1980s), and for wood companies, mestizos, international aid and the State (1990-2015). The Miskitu from the 3 communities (Saupuka, Ulwas and Bilwaskarma) differ somewhat from the Mayangnas, they have their insla on the other side of the river which the ranchers permit, they plant beans and rice for their own consumption and part of that to buy their salt or clothing, they also receive pay for working on the haciendas, and get some resources through the sale of wood. Most of the indigenous historically have had annual crops, which along with the grazing fields of the ranching haciendas contributed to the change in the course of the river, because it is harder for a river to change course when it is bordered by trees and permanent crops. There are also some Mayangna and Miskitu families with permanent crops who produce and sell their products. Our hypothesis is that not producing for both purposes, consumption and to purchase products, has contributed to the fragility of their economic system and to the sale or loss of their lands.

The markets have hardened these practices of production just for consumption, and getting money through other ways. Awastingni in the last 20 years has enjoyed financial resources, having probably received millions of cordobas from wood companies (Madensa 1993-1998, Amerinica 2000-2003, Mpinicsa 2010-2011 and Dusa 2015-2020), the sale of land to mestizo families, that according to indigenous leaders includes a little more than 50% of the total area (with the rest of the area considered to be invaded by mestizos), and international aid or State projects. In Saupuka most of the wood extraction is happening between Waspam and Bilwaskarma illegally, which is why only a part of the small scale timber merchants are paying Saupuka; this situation has increased tensions, for example, between Bilwaskarma and Saupuka, expressed as a “dispute over property boundaries”; and given that the families of Saupuka are in a better economic situation than Awastingni, 6 km from the municipal capital of Waspam, companies like Curacau and Gallo mas Gallo leave them goods and equipment on credit with usurious interest rates.

Because of these 3 factors, the government structure in both cases has become pyramid-shaped and weak. Mayangna leaders and families sold their land, providing “possession documents” as the proof of the sale, and in many cases selling the same area 2,3 and even 4 times to different meztizo families; correspondingly, there is a leadership that operates more around external resources (mestizos, companies and organizations), with weak counterweights in the community that would help them to be transparent and use the resources well. In Saupuka the organizational structure, even though divided and with a certain level of community beligerancia, is surpassed by the hacienda institution. Overtime the organizational structures were shaped more around external resources and “freed” from those who had named them, a process fed by the external actors themselves (organizations, companies, mestizos) that just connected with the leaders, generally bypassing the communities.

In the face of a third “critical juncture”

With these elements, a tense relationship between the Mayangnas and Miskitus, intra-ethnic conflicts, Mayangna-Mestiza relations, the influence of companies and organizations, and a governance structure without internal and external counterweights, 31% of the territory of the country was able to be demarcated in the name of Indigenous and Afro-descendent communities, and that in practice this is in dispute given that the mestizos population in the Coast are more than 76% of the population (Gonzalez, 2014[ii]). Given this, we think that multiethnic Nicaragua is on the verge of its third critical juncture. Three paths are visible: one, complete imposition of the ranching hacienda institution (more than peasants), and of mega extractive companies with their multiple economic, social, political and environmental effects; two, indigenous self-government that includes respect for collective and individual property and respect for nature; and the third, a inclusive, multiethnic society with historical and grassroots alliances, accompanied by a model – as Polanyi would say – of “societies with markets”. We think that the first two paths are in conflict with one another, the former moved by the “domino effect” (Mendoza, 2004 [iii] ) with unfortunate consequences, and the second – even though it is more just and legal – is more and more reduced, which is why working pragmatically on the third path is urgent.

What would this third path consist in? First, that the indigenous families would promote diversified production systems that would combine forest, agriculture (annual and permanent crops), and ranching, ensuring their consumption and staggering their income. Secondly, weaving endogenous alliances between Mayangna families and mestizo families of peasant origin with diversified systems and agreements of possessing less than 100 mzs of land per mestizo or Mayangna family, combining respect for collective and individual properties, and an alliance between the Miskitu of Nicaragua and of Honduras; in both cases with the capacity of making the ranching hacienda institution withdraw beyond the border. Third, that the territorial and communal government structures would develop internal counterweights (e.g. commissions for administering external resources and rethinking their diversification strategies) and external counterweights (e.g. microfinance institutions of the Coast to protect the resources of the communities, and the Moravian Church, because of its historic connections with indigenous populations of the Coast, cultivating bonds with the Honduran side, concretizing its Gospel of spirituality, solidarity and training. Fourth, the BICU and URACCAN universities, in collaboration with institutions like Nitlapan-UCA, would reinvent their conflict mediation institutions based on participatory research to overcome the discourse of “invaders” and “victims” and glimpse the limitations and possibilities of collaboration behind the confrontations.

In conclusion, in light of the third path as a realistic option within the current “juncture”, the problem is not the lack of financial resources, but of administering them; it is not lack of land and of laws, but of working respecting the national and international laws; and it is not a scarcity of leaders, but of an institutionality with counterweights above and below, with the participation of women in those structures, recovering the circular origin of the functioning of indigenous structures, and with the support of organizations that are connected with leaders and the population itself. Nicaragua in 1987 broke ground in Latin America with autonomy law; Nicaragua can once again break ground in the continent based on a strategic indigenous-peasant strategy for a multiethnic society, with an inclusive and sustainable development institutionality.

 

* René (rmvidaurre@gmail.com) has a PhD in development studies, is a collaborator of the Winds of Peace Foundation (http://peacewinds.org/research/), associate researcher of IOB-University of Antwerp (Belgium) and of the Nitlapan-UCA Research and Development Institute (Nicaragua). Nora is a professor of BICU and researcher of Nitlapan-UCA. Celia, Jairo and Alejandro are researchers of Nitlapan-UCA. Klaus is an associate researcher of Nitlapan-UCA.

 

[i] Mahoney, J., 2001, “Regime Change: Central America in Comparative Perspective” en: Studies in Comparative International Development 36.1

[ii] Gonzalez, M., 2014, “Autonomía Costeña, 27 años después” en: Revista Confidencial

[iii] Mendoza, R., 2004, “Un espejo engañoso: imágenes de la frontera agrícola” en: ENVIO. Managua: IHCA-UCA, No. 265. 2004. http://www.envio.org.ni/articulo.php?id=2069

 

Can societies counteract the environmental and climate crisis?

Can societies counteract the environmental and climate crisis?

René Mendoza V. and Peter Marchetti*

 

We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking that we had when we created them.

Albert Einstein

The Second Earth Summit in Johannesburg in 2002 ended with the Sustainable Development accords signed in the first Earth Summit in Rio de Janeiro in 1992. The International Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) in 2013 presented the evidence of their failure to contain climate change: 1) the emissions between 1992 and 2012 increased global warming by one degree; 2) even with radical mitigation actions, the planet will get to 1.6 degrees hotter, then these levels of gases and climate warming, regardless of the actions taken, will not disappear for 100 years; 3) without radical mitigation measures between now and 2025 the increase of carbon dioxide (CO2) will produce a climate warming of 2.0 degrees from 2050 on, and that warming will not change at least for another 100 years.

In light of this situation in 2015 the world will adopt the Sustainable Development Goals (SDG), replacing the 2000-2015 Millennium Development Goals. The fulfillment of the SDGs is more questionable than that of the MDGs. Our hypothesis is that the efforts of the SDGs, far from mitigating global warming, will increase gas emission, unless there is an active awakening from society capable of transforming its states and markets.

Capital over science and ecology

The results described for 1992 and 2013 have to do with decisions made in Johannesburg 2002. There capital dominated science, preventing compliance with the International Convention on Climate Change and the International Convention on Biological Diversity signed by 178 countries in 1992. In Johannesburg, the United States and the European Union conditioned their participation in the Summit on their bilateral declaration of not renegotiating the agreements reached in Monterrey (Mexico) on Financing for Development, and in Dohar (Qatar) on free trade. In 10 years the dream of Rio 1992 was subordinated to the unequal North-South relations and to trade; in Johannesburg, behind the curtain of the MDGs the first principle of the Rio Summit was violated: “Human beings constitute the center of concerns related to sustainable development.” The de-regulated markets would govern the social, political and evironmental spheres, thus supplanting the heart of the fourth principle of the Rio Summit: “To achieve sustainable development, the protection of the environment must be part of the development process and cannot be considered separately.”

In Johannesburg a new paradigm emerged to deal with the climate and environmental crises: the public-private alliance subordinated to the multinationals. The essence of the grotesque disfiguration of the fourth principle lies in the fact that without changing the dynamics of the multinational energy and food companies, these businesses can protect the environment under Pay for Environmental Services mechanisms (PES); in other words, markets and individual interests, and not public institutions, would protect the environment. Later these PES evolved into Reducing Emissions from Deforestation and Forest Degradation programs (REDD) that use market, fiscal and financial incentives to preserve the forest cover. Consequently, large estate “green” enterprises appeared that had access to the $30 billion dollars committed in Copenhaguen 2009 for 2010-12; while communal forest initiatives in some reserves of Central America, like that of the Petén in Guatemala, are left stuck in endless negotiations. In other words, in the new paradigm, the environment is the “means” for “development” controlled by markets, where the deterioration of the environment is negotiated for “green” capitalism.

Within this context, the SDGs are emerging, and Sachs says: “I predict that sustainable development will become the principal organizer of our politics, economics, and even ethics in the coming years. In fact, the governments of the world have agreed to place it in the very center of the post 2015 Development agenda for the world. Soon they will help guide the world toward a safer and more just trajectory in the 21st century.” Without changes in the North-South power relations and without regulating the markets, is there hope for the SDGs? It seems that Sachs is in a fantasy world. There will be more speeches, but the markets will continue organizing the economics, politics and ethics in Central America.

The peasant and indigenous way, hope for mitigation of climate change

This global capitalism is preparing the environmental policies in Central America. Because of the vulnerability of the GDP of each country of the region to the natural disasters caused by climate change, the environmental issue is increasingly becoming the center of the analysis in the coming years. Once again disasters will come from outside, climate change as well as the voracious demand for water; while under any future, the forest and water wealth of countries like Nicaragua and Guatemala constitute an opportunity for negotation in light of the SDGs, which will require making changes in the political and economic system so that they do not continue destroying the opportunity to put human beings and future generations as the principle guiding principles for the management of the forests and water resources of Central America.

In the face of climate change, which the IPCC 2014 confirmed to be a threat for human survival itself, one of the few signs of hope are the practices of the peasant and indigenous economies of the region, facing a economic situation of market dominance, where the US, the European Union, Japan and China are fighting climate change with green capitalism, and the multinational enterprises are managing certain rules of world control. In the face of this situation our socieities urgently need to wake up, so that the expressions of territorial opposition from the peasant and indigenous families might reveal their contradictions with the markets, and that urban alliances might be woven  that would empower the rural movements. The 5 articles we have published in this magazine respond to this challenge, and show four fundamental characteristics of the peasant way (holistic, associative, mitigation practices and institutionality with the capacity to solve environmental problems) that constitute a promising (and alternative) perspective for dealing with the fissures and openings for transformation that the global climate crisis is producing.

First, the peasantry is developing a holistic vision that combines economics, ecology and the social realities to oppose a science at the service of a environmental ideology of green capitalism; that science sees the peasant families as “deforesters”; while in Latin America where there are more trees is on the farms of peasant families, and where there are no trees is on the large ranching estates or the monocropping plantations (sugar cane, soy beans, sunflowers, peanuts, rice, African Palm). Secondly, the peasantry shuns individualism because they organize into networks and cooperatives, which are the seeds for the solidarity economy that opposes the “discard” ideology of organizations co-opted by the market that see the peasant families as “individuals”, their farms as “crops” and their members as “fieldhands”. Third, in the struggle against environmental deterioration, they are diversifying their farms, are working on organic agriculture, are protecting their water sources, associate and rotate crops, combine agricultural and non-agricultural activites, and are organizing community tourism; with these practices they are ensuring their family food and are scaling up their income; and with all of this they are resisting the large estate system that make land and what is in it a commodity, manipulates the environmental laws and dispossesse them of their land, organizations and identites. Fourth, the traditional institutional structure (sharecropping, shared labor, shared harvest) of relationships of collaboration between families is resisting the institutional structure of the market that turns those relationships into commodities.

Moving to indigenous practices, we confirm that where there are forests in Latin America there are indigenous peoples, and on their borders there is, or has been, violence, not as a local expression (e.g. indigenous-mestizos), but a transnational one to do away with those forests (See: Mendoza, R y Kuhnekath, K., 2005, “Conflictos en La Costa: expresión de la transnacionalización de conflictos societales en Centroamérica,” WANI 41). There is an urgent need to study the collective management of those resources (trees, forests, water…) (See: Richards, M., 1997, Common Property Resource Institutions and Forest Management in Latin America,” Development and Change, 2), to undertand the approaches that underly those peoples (See: Mendoza, R., 2004, “Un espejo engañoso: imágenes de la frontera agrícola,” ENVIO 265), and study them from the non-equilibrium and inter-connectivity paradigm. Because we will not solve the environmental and climate crisis with the same thinking (liberalism and neoliberalism) that created it, but with new ideas coming from the peasant and indigenous way and recovering the centrality of the human being.

Is the Central America peasant way standing alone before the multinational companies? The rupture with capitalism on the part of autonomous and indigenous movements defending nature in other countries of Latin America is finding political support in Bolivia and Ecuador, where peasant indigenous pressure is making governments more open to adopting environmental, energy and social controls. Nevertheless, the possibilities for Latin America in the face of the savage capitalism of multinational enterprises, already injected into their veins, needs the BRICS countries to break their energy agreements with the US-Emirates and introduce policies for the control of capitalism to counteract climate change. This possibility (dream) of avoiding the nightmare of the disappearance of the human species from the face of the earth motivates us to address climate change in Central America in its global and local dimensions, and to imagine profound changes in the correlation of forces. The challenge is that the region configure its own trajectory in globalization, where the climate and environmental crisis will have less and less weight.

* Peter Marchetti is an advisor to the Rafael Landívar University and René Mendoza V. (rmvidaurre@gmail.com) is a collaborator of the Winds of Peace Foundation (www.peacewinds.org).

The image of indigenous peoples: Beyond development?

The image of indigenous peoples: Beyond development?

René Mendoza V. and Edgar Fernández

 

Today is loaded with yesterday, yesterday with the day before, and tomorrow with today

Mayan Thought

 

The day they have poisoned the last river, cut down the last tree, and murdered the last animal, they will realize that money cannot be eaten.
Indigenous Proverb

 

The indigenous and Afrodescendent peoples of the north and south Atlantic of the country have benefitted from an Autonomy Statute since 1987, which was followed by the marking and titling of most of their territories; nevertheless, those territories have been the object of extractive policies and the growing migration of mestizo population who now make up more than 75% of the total population in both regions. How can this situation be understood, when we all want to conserve the Bosawas biosphere, respect the rights of the indigenous peoples to their territories and to exercising their autonomy, and at the same time in practice the Bosawas biosphere is being degraded and the indigenous peoples are being left with only the legal formality of their lands? In this article we seek out two responses, one in the international framework, and another in the light of another municipality outside of the Caribbean Coast.

 

Internationally

 

The history of the United States shows us a first model, of how conventional development with its investments in infrastructure, financial and trade institutions, and mechanized agriculture corralled the indigenous peoples onto “reservations” on the worst land in the country (The Oxford history of the American West, edited por Milner, O’Connor and Sandweiss) , and that at the same time these peoples have been capable of defending themselves and their land and animals in order to survive, of adapting to the times, turning what is new into part of their identity, of prospering, even expanding their territories on the basis of new agreements with their government, and respecting the old ways and continuing in the new day (Diné: A history of the Navajos, by P. Iverson). Countries like Costa Rica and Panama replicated that model of “indian reservations.” A second model has been establishing protected areas including the indigenous populations that inhabit them. This is the case of Brazil with the Amazon and Nicaragua with Bosawas, areas systematically pressured by conventional development. A third model has emerged in the last 10 years in countries like Bolivia and Ecuador where the indigenous movement were able to get leftist governments that promoted the refounding of their republics with new constitutions ensuring their plurinational character; nevertheless, once the euphoria passed, those governments launched extractive policies – this is the case of the TIPNIS (Isiboro Sécure Indigenous Territory and National Park) that the government of Bolivia wants to cut a highway through, and the case of Yasuni where the CONAIE (Federation of Indigenous Nationalities of Ecuador) are confronting their government.

 

What similarities do we find in these three models? The conventional development approach underlies them all (“progress is unstoppable, the agricultural frontier will reach the ocean”), what is new is that the extractive policies stopped by the social movements are re-launched by their governments – “big business is achieving what it could not do with governments on the right.” The governments justify it, arguing that in order to reduce poverty money is needed that comes from extracting natural resources (forests, mines and hydrocarbons). This argument expresses the conventional development model that they said they were fighting, and it is the opposite of the indigenous proverb cited above. Secondly, the indigenous peoples are advancing, like the Navajos in the United States, and are resisting like the Guaraníes in Bolivia and the Quechuas in Ecuador. Thirdly, the “reservations”, be they indigenous reservations or natural reserves, are mechanisms that extinguish or are points of support, depending on the capacities of the agency of the peoples. Can the peoples of the Caribbean Coast see themselves in one of these images?

 

The interior image of an indigenous municipality

 

Now let us go into San José de Cusmapa, located 1200 meters high and 248 kms from Managua, let us describe their situation, let us seek to explain it and reveal their paths of life. Cusmapa, according to data from the INEC 2005 Population Census, is a municipality with 95.3% of the population who self identify as indigenous, lacks their own language and a municipality with 87% of its population in poverty and 64.6% in extreme poverty; they have a Royal Title (from the King of Spain) over all the area of the municipality and more, but in practice close to half of their land is already in non-indigenous hands, with a very unequal land ownership where 49.6% of the indigenous families are owners of areas less than 10 mzas in size, while 44% of indigenous and non-indigenous families are owners of areas between 10-50 mzas in size, and 6.5% of non indigenous families have land between 50-500 mzas in size, and with a high level of indigenous migration both inside and outside the country; with a soil use where ranching by non-indigenous hands is increasing, and the forest area was reduced from 32.7% in 1963 to 5.5% in 2001. How is it possible that the population of Cusmapa, having a royal land title backed by the Constitution of the country, has gotten so impoverished, lost their own language, been corralled into mini plots of land, is migrating, having lost control over close to half of their land area, and is suffering the reduction of their forests?

 

The response is that the indigenous families have been pushed to the phase of production that creates the smallest amount of value, and their indigenous philosophy is in conflict with the institutionality of conventional development, which is why year after year they are losing what they most value: land, forests and their production. First, the trade in products that come out of – and arrive into – Cusmapa is centralized in non-indigneous families, who also control the finances for lending money in cash or in kind in exchange for products and/or future labor; given that the indigenous lands formally cannot be impounded, there is no financial institution that is providing them with credit, and given that any product has to pass through the markets, the indigenous families have to respond to the social sector that is centralizing the markets for products and capital. Secondly, the systematic loss of control over their lands and forest began in 1963 when, in order to obtain their recognition as a municipality, they lost land area indicated in their Royal Title. Then since 1972 the ranching families of the neighboring municipality of San Francisco, accompanied by cattle rustling and the indifference of the local judges and the National Guard, moved into the area acquiring land. Then starting in 1990 they lost control of their forest with the passage of environmental laws, and finally the loss of their soil fertility makes it more and more difficult to ensure their own consumption needs, and makes them more dependent on the markets. Thirdly, the fragility of their organization and the harshness of their family institution around inheritance has contributed to their process of dispossession; their indigenous organization is reduced to the defense of the territory based on the Royal Title, while the reality of the possession of the land and the forest is taking a different path; and the institution of land inheritance that in the name of “protecting” the land excludes daughters, restricting even more the capacity and human energy of the families. Fourth, the indigenous life strategies, their idea of reciprocity instead of hoarding and commercializing, of taking advantage of the forest and ensuring its sustainability, and of defending the extended family as the basis of their social organization, does not have the backing of the conventional development institutions.

 

In spite of the fact that these points show that in Cusmapa the indigenous are not in control, behind these processes of dispossession, like the Navajo people, the inhabitants of Cusmapa are resisting and moving forward. Their strategy of productive diversification they have expanded to crafts based on pine needles and to other forms of organization – cooperative and association, in addition to the Indigenous People and the institution of the municipal government. The women, accompanied in many cases by their husbands, have burst into artesanry, and have assumed the leadership of the different institutions and organizations that exist in the municipality: the Municipal Government, the cooperative of women craftmakers, the Indigenous People´s organization, and the association for community development that is providing credit services even though at a very small scale. And even with the great spacial variability, including migration toward other municipalities in the country and outside the country, the old instituiton of the extended family as a common space of formation is maintained and is recreated with the changes of globalization (technology, international aid, remittances).

 

Beyond conventional development?

 

Let us return to the question at the beginning of the article, referring to the dilemma of collective action, of intending one thing and then doing the opposite, of advancing on the formal level but going backwards in reality. The view on the international level and then delving into the reality of San José de Cusmapa allowed us to propose new questions for ourselves. Is Cusmapa, in its dispossession and progress, a reflection of the present and/or future for the peoples of the Caribbean Coast? Are the institutional models an image also for the population of Cusmapa?

 

Two things are left clear for us. What happens in the country, and in any of its regions and municipalities, is not unconnected to what is happening in the world, which is why it is important that we locate ourselves in the light of the multiple images. Conventional development is not the only path, there are paths beyond that development; and within this framework cultural diversity “has an intrinsic value for development as well as for social cohesion and peace,” according to the Universal Declaration of UNESCO on Cultural Diversity in 2001. The development vision of indigenous peoples and conventional development should complement one another, and as such be assumed with their consequences.

 

From all of this, the financial institutions need to innovate with their collateral systems so that, responding to the different development models, they might provide a type of credit that at the same time protects the indigenous lands, gives them decisive points of support in order to make their paths viable; the same with the product markets so that commercial intermediation might make the indigenous products viable for better markets. That the environmental policies might recognize that the remnants of the forests are there thanks to the indigenous peoples who produced them, which is why their management should be passed over to local hands in coherence with the indigenous philosophy about nature understood as a living being. That the indigenous organizations need to open their eyes to the reality that they are not governing their territories, starting from the fact that the properties have superimposed land titles, to the importance of working on the institutionality of the markets to make their paths viable. That the women might  be subjects of inheritances and that the notion of work as a right to inheritance be re-conceptualized, to include work in the home, in the garden, in the farm and in human reproduction. And paraphrasing the Pope in relation to Cuba, the indigenous peoples need to open themselves up to the world and at the same time the world needs to open itself up to indigenous peoples.

 

Taking a look at the history of the indigenous peoples is an image of dispossession that is shameful for humanity. Overcoming this shame, we find images of resistance, of other ways of life and vision, like Mayan thought and the indigenous proverbs quoted in the beginning, that enrich humanity. Like the “butterfly effect” in chaos theory, each small change in our learning that goes beyond development can have a big impact in the long term and in the depth of history. Let us remember, “the flapping of the wings of a butterfly can be felt on the other side of the world” (Chinese proverb).