Maui Fires: Recovery Challenges Stem From Years of Colonialism and Tourism
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https://www.teenvogue.com/story/maui-wildfire-challenges-colonialism-tourism
Maui Fires: Recovery Challenges Stem From Years of Colonialism and Tourism
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https://www.teenvogue.com/story/maui-wildfire-challenges-colonialism-tourism
The Stalled Decolonization
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https://orinocotribune.com/the-stalled-decolonization/
LandBack or Nothing: Capitalism Is the True Culprit, Not Humanity
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https://orinocotribune.com/landback-or-nothing-capitalism-is-the-true-culprit-not-humanity/
Indigenous trade unionists from around the world call for more inclusion and solidarity: “We are not just there to sing the songs and do the opening prayer”
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https://www.equaltimes.org/indigenous-trade-unionists-from
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https://theecologist.org/2023/aug/08/development-threatens-most-indigenous-lands-globally
This story was originally published by ProPublica, a nonprofit newsroom that investigates abuses of power.
In September 2020, the Hopi Tribe’s four-decade effort to secure its right to water culminated in a court proceeding. The outcome would determine how much water the arid reservation would receive over the next century and whether that amount would be enough for the tribe to pursue its economic ambitions. Under rules unique to Arizona, the tribe would have to justify how it would use every drop it wanted.
The monthslong ordeal in Arizona’s Superior Court unfolded in video calls over shaky internet connections.
Chairman Timothy Nuvangyaoma called it “the fight of our lives.”
The U.S. Supreme Court ruled in 1908 that reservations have an inherent right to water. In the rest of the country, courts grant tribes water based on the amount of arable land on their reservations, relying on a 1963 U.S. Supreme Court precedent. But in 2001, Arizona developed its own method that was ostensibly more flexible to individual tribes’ visions for how they wanted to use their water by examining their culture, history, economy and projected population.
This new standard offered tribes an opportunity to shape their plans for economic development and growth beyond farming. But the Hopi case, the first adjudicated under this process, showed it also came at a high cost with uncertain outcomes.
Court records show that at the trial, experts brought in by the tribe, state and corporate water users argued over how many Hopi had lived in the area going back centuries and how much water they had used for crops and livestock. They debated the correct fertility rate of Hopi women and the viability of the tribe’s economic projects. And the court examined lists of sacred springs — sites the Hopi traditionally kept secret to preserve them — to decide how much water could be drawn from them for future religious ceremonies.
The legal battle, one of the tribe’s largest expenses in recent years, resulted in May 2022 with the court awarding less than a third of the water sought by the Hopi Tribe. That was the amount needed, the court said, “to provide a permanent homeland.”
“I would define it as modern-day genocide,” Nuvangyaoma said. “Withholding water, which is life for the Hopis, until an undetermined time is really a position to kill off a tribe that’s been here since time immemorial.”
The trial and decision carry profound implications for other Colorado River Basin tribes seeking water, especially in Arizona, where 10 out of 22 federally recognized tribes have outstanding claims. Water awarded to these tribes often comes out of the allocation states can use, leading to inherent conflict between tribes and states over the scarce resource. If the Hopi decree survives the tribe’s planned appeal, other tribes will be subjected to the same scrutiny of their way of life, said Rhett Larson, a professor of water law at Arizona State University.
“It’s a big deal for the history of water law in the United States of America and what it means to be a Native American tribe,” Larson said.
The Hopi Tribe has inhabited villages in northeastern Arizona for more than 1,100 years. In the time since white settlers arrived, the Hopi Tribe’s water supply has been decimated by drought and coal companies’ unchecked groundwater pumping.
The reservation, established by the U.S. government in 1882, is entirely surrounded by the Navajo Nation. Both tribes use the same aquifer, with wells reaching thousands of feet into the ground. Three-fourths of the Hopi citizens living on the reservation rely on well water tainted with high levels of arsenic, according to tribal leaders and studies conducted with the Environmental Protection Agency. A heavy metal that leads to increased risk of developing cancer, cognitive developmental disorders and diabetes, arsenic is naturally present throughout Arizona, but pumping can increase its concentration in groundwater.
According to Dale Sinquah, a member of the Hopi Tribal Council, concerns about the aquifer make it hard not only to find drinking water, but they also limit the construction of new homes and businesses allowing the community to grow.
The only other available water on the reservation is inconsistent, running in four major streambeds that are dry most of the year. Those four washes, which empty into the Little Colorado River, have likely been impacted by drought, with two showing a “significant decreasing trend” in recent years, according to the U.S. Geological Survey.
“We need another source of water off-reservation to provide for our existence in the future,” Sinquah said.
The case involving Hopi water rights began in 1978, when the Phelps Dodge mining company filed suit against the state and all other water users to protect its claims in the Little Colorado River watershed. Under Arizona law, the only way to quantify a single water claim was to litigate all regional claims at once. Soon, the Hopi Tribe and thousands of others with claims became parties to the case in the Superior Court of Arizona.
The tribe put the court case on hold twice as it attempted to get water through out-of-court settlements. Those talks though would have required compromising with other users making claims to that water, including the Peabody Western Coal Co., which until 2019 pumped groundwater from the aquifer for its mining operations. Between 1965 and 2005, Peabody accounted for 63 percent of the water pumped out of the aquifer, and 31 percent between 2006 and 2019, according to the United States Geological Survey. Peabody did not respond to requests for comment.
In 2012, the Hopi Tribe appeared on the brink of a settlement with the state that would have provided the tribal nation with $113 million for pipelines and other infrastructure to bring groundwater to communities on the reservation. But that effort fell through when Hopi leaders refused to sign off on a guarantee in the settlement allowing Peabody continued access to the aquifer until 2044.
Unable to reach a settlement, the Hopi Tribe’s pursuit of water for its homeland continued in court through Arizona’s untested legal process.
Due to the large number of parties and the underfunding of both the state courts and Arizona’s Department of Water Resources, the case moved at a snail’s pace. The department filed a key technical report on water availability in 2008. It took until 2015 for the department to finalize it for the court.
By then, the case had been overseen by four judges. They appointed three separate special water masters, who are key to producing a proposed decree for the court. Susan Ward Harris, the water master who delivered the 2022 decree, was appointed in 2015. Harris did not respond to requests for comment.
When its day in court finally came, the Hopi Tribe explained it wanted water for an economically vibrant future with farms, cattle operations, coal mines and power plants.
More than 90 witnesses testified. They included a long line of experts — for the tribe; the federal government; the state; the northern Arizona city of Flagstaff; and the Little Colorado River Coalition, which represented small cities, utilities, ranchers and commercial interests. They discussed the tribe’s projected population, argued over the accuracy of the census count of the Hopi and offered predictions of what the numbers would be in the future.
In the end, the court went with the lowest population projections put forward by Flagstaff and the state, and it decided to only include people living on the reservation full time.
The reservation’s population, currently about 7,000, would peak at 18,255 by 2110, Harris decided.
She also decreed the tribe would get water to only irrigate 38 percent of farmland it planned to. It was denied water for a cattle operation, saying it “would not be feasible, practical, or provide economic benefits,” based on the court’s assessment of the current market. Harris also declared the coal operations were not “economically feasible.” Some $10 billion in economic development projects, presented in detail to the court, were deemed unrealistic.
Water for ceremonial and subsistence gardens was also denied. The court publicly listed nearly 100 sacred springs with limits on how much water the tribe was entitled to use for religious ceremonies.
In total, the tribe had requested at least 96,074 acre-feet a year of water, and the Arizona water master recommended awarding just 28,988 acre-feet, all of it from the same depleted, contaminated aquifer and seasonal streams the Hopi already use. After four decades, they ended up in the same precarious position they’d started.
Nuvangyaoma said the decree suggested the state and non-Native parties believed the tribe was incapable of carrying out its ambitious economic plans. It closed the door on future growth and, overall, was “insulting.”
By refusing to count members who live part time on the reservation as part of the population, the court ignored the connection many Native Americans have with their land, even when they don’t live there permanently, he said. Many leave so they or their children can pursue an education; for work; or to live in homes with reliable electricity and water. In short, Nuvangyaoma said, they seek the very things Hopi leaders hoped that the settlement would help bring to the reservation, and that the tribe needed water to do. But the court said that because the reservation was not growing at the speed the tribe claimed it could, it couldn’t have the water — a circular logic that hobbles the Hopi.
“It’s very frustrating that you’re told that your population will peak at a certain amount when we don’t see it that way,” Nuvangyaoma said.
Even with Harris’ decree on the books, the Hopi Tribe still faces a long road to access its allotted 28,988 acre-feet of water. Funding for dams, pipes and other infrastructure will likely require congressional action and involve more negotiation with other water users, including the Navajo Nation, which draws from the same groundwater. “I suspect I will not be alive when it comes to fruition,” Sinquah, the tribal council member, said.
Nuvangyaoma said the tribe will still pursue its plans for economic development, but with the understanding it cannot look to the state or federal governments for support.
Cities across the Southwest have, with government support, pursued economic development and growth in the ways they want, he said, whether it’s coal mining, raising cattle or farming the desert using water brought from far away.
“So why are we putting limitations on Hopi and making a decision for us saying, ‘Oh, well, we don’t think that’s feasible for you all?’” Nuvangyaoma asked. “Who has that right to tell us what is and what is not feasible for us?”
This story was originally published by Grist with the headline In Arizona water ruling, the Hopi tribe sees limits on its future on Jul 22, 2023.
This article appeared in the July/August 2023 issue of Briarpatch. Subscribe Now or Make A Donation.
There is a common misconception that Canada and settlers give money to First Nations. But the opposite is true – Canada owes First Nations billions, if not trillions. In the Yellowhead Institute’s Cash Back Red Paper, researchers investigate how much money Canada owes and what financial reparations should look like. Briarpatch spoke to Yellowhead researcher Rob Houle about Cash Back, Indian trusts, and First Nations economies.
Canada has stolen land and wealth from First Nations people to finance this country since colonization. A nascent Canada, with low cash flow and no land, created legislation to expropriate land and sell it or give it to corporations, institutions, and settlers, with no plan as to how First Nations people would be compensated. Canada has also shortchanged First Nations by not honouring treaties and stealing directly from First Nations’ coffers to pay for the Crown’s own treaty obligations. Cash Back is the demand that Canada return the profits it stole and continues to steal from First Nations people.
Cash Back needs to happen so First Nations communities can return to the state they existed in prior to the creation of so-called Canada.
When the Crown began to exert control in North America, and eventually signed treaties with First Nations people, they also entered into trust relationships. These trusts are held in accounts which are called “Indian moneys” in the Indian Act. When the government sells or leases land on behalf of First Nations people, Canada and the Crown hold the money on behalf of First Nations across the country. Rather than providing the funds directly, the government places the money in accounts that accrue interest. This relationship is required, given the Crown has no legal claim to land in North America. Many First Nations in Canada have or have had a trust held by Canada. But Canada has misused trust money time and time again.
For example, Canada used Six Nations of the Grand River’s money to fund the Grand River Navigation Company, without the knowledge or consent of Six Nations. The company was supposed to make it easier to traverse the Welland Canal but failed to do so. Six Nations was never compensated for the stolen land and money.
Cash Back means a return to traditional economies and must include Land Back.
Other times, the fund was shortchanged and treaties were not honoured by the Crown. For example, during Canada’s early days, the Crown used Indian monies to establish the Land Management Fund. This fund was used to pay teachers, cover costs of managing Indians on-reserve as well as to update infrastructure on reserve. Some of these costs are the responsibility of the Crown, meaning the Canadian government was using First Nations’ money to fulfill their treaty obligations.
The Crown is still not honouring its treaty obligations, which we can see in the Robinson Huron Treaty annuities case in Ontario. In this case, First Nations are arguing that their treaty annuities should be linked to inflation or an escalation clause. This implies that once the land being “surrendered” became more valuable, based upon the usage, any additional profits would be given or shared with Robinson Huron nations. On the opposite side, the government of Ontario is arguing that the escalation clause is subject to a statute of limitations and that payment remains the responsibility of the federal government. Ontario claims the province is actually in a deficit in relation to the Treaty, meaning the Anishinaabe are owed no compensation for the resources stolen from the territory for 173 years. Important cases like this show that Canada is not committed to upholding its treaty obligations.
This mismanagement of First Nations money has pushed some First Nations to call for control of their trusts, which is an important part of Cash Back. The call for Cash Back follows the call for Land Back and recognizes that land and money are intrinsically linked in Canada. In other words, land back requires cash back.
Reserve land in Canada is one of the only places where communal title exists, and if this feature were used in the appropriate fashion, ownership could be reimagined and transformed.
This push for trust fund management was likely initiated by the outcome of a 2009 court decision. A few years prior, the Samson Cree Nation and Ermineskin Cree Nation sued the federal government for trust mismanagement and a failure to ensure their investments were managed properly and accused the federal government of using the Indian trust account as a source of loans. Had the money been under the control of a private sector administrator, the Treaty 6 Bands would have interest from their trusts. The Supreme Court ruled that the Crown has no obligations when investments are performing poorly and that investing Indian money was not allowed under their policies. As a solution to losing in court, Samson Cree Nation took control of their trust.
First Nations economies currently exist and have always existed. They are on-reserve and in urban spaces. The Indian Act and other legislation limit the scope of First Nations economies. Many First Nations communities have been relegated to participation in resource extraction and manufacturing industries. Restrictions around land use on reserve and leasing arrangements have created a perceived risk in doing business with First Nations.
Cash Back means a return to traditional economies and must include Land Back.
First Nations economies are possible under Canadian law, but settler-colonial economic relationships like 99-year leases make it difficult. Our economies and financial institutions operate under an archaic regime in which outright ownership is the norm; this has to change. Reserve land in Canada is one of the only places where communal title exists, and if this feature were used in the appropriate fashion, ownership could be reimagined and transformed.
For some time, before 1951, First Nations money was held separately from the Consolidated Revenue Fund (CRF) of Canada, and it was only through government policy that the money was absorbed into Canadian coffers. Settlers need to support First Nations calling for these funds to be removed from the CRF and for a new financial relationship with the Crown to be established. This new relationship could include less bureaucratic controls on Indian monies or a co-management arrangement of the funds with the First Nations to which they belong. A total release of responsibility to First Nations may not be an option, given the funds are tied to treaty obligations.
First Nations communities have been operating in a consistent deficit since colonization. Cash Back needs to happen so First Nations communities can return to the state they existed in prior to the creation of so-called Canada. This is not only about money, but also land and resource management. Cash Back means a return to traditional economies and must include Land Back.
‘La Salle Meets a War Party of Cenis Indians on a Texas Prairie. April 25, 1686’ (1848) by George Catlin.
Photo: Heritage Images/Getty Images
By
Kathleen DuVal
June 30, 2023 11:29 am ET
For more than a generation, historians have been researching and writing American Indian history and showing how to incorporate it into U.S. history. The title of a 2015 collection of academic essays explains “Why You Can’t Teach United States History Without American Indians.” And yet most U.S. history teachers do teach their subject without much American Indian history. Most states’ social-studies curricula include American Indians only in the pre-1900 period—and then mostly as generalized objects of U.S. colonization and westward migration. New visions of U.S. history, such as the 1619 Project, continue to be as lacking in American Indians as older triumphalist accounts. History teachers at the K-12 level get little if any training in American Indian history beyond perhaps a few key moments, such as Pocahontas and Jamestown in the early 1600s and Cherokee Removal in the 1830s.
Ned Blackhawk, a professor of history at Yale and a citizen of the Te-Moak Tribe of Western Shoshone Indians, seeks to change that. “The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of U.S. History” is an eloquent and comprehensive telling of how the history of the United States and that of American Indians since the 1500s are the same story. Mr. Blackhawk points out that those who recently argued for slavery’s centrality to American history juxtapose it to American freedom while continuing to exclude Native Americans from a history that, after all, happened on their homelands. He argues instead that the “histories of Native America provide the starkest contrast to the American ideal.” He makes a persuasive case that we all should “rediscover” how Native Americans interacted with and shaped the United States from the period of European exploration and colonization to today. “Rather than seeing U.S. and Native American history as separate or disaggregated,” Mr. Blackhawk writes, he “envisions them as interrelated.”
“The Rediscovery of America” follows the standard chronology of U.S. history, while showing how it was intersected by the interactions of Native Americans with Europeans and their North American descendants. By presenting post-1492 history as a series of encounters between the various peoples of the Americas and the peoples from Europe, Africa and Asia—rather than as an account of Europe’s discovery of a new world—Mr. Blackhawk provides a view of that past from multiple perspectives. He draws together hundreds of histories that have been written about specific encounters in particular times and places, including his own “Violence Over the Land” (2006); “Peace Came in the Form of a Woman” (2007), Juliana Barr’s account of colonial Texas; and “These People Have Always Been a Republic” (2019), Maurice Crandall’s history of interactions across what is now the U.S.-Mexico border. But calling these interactions “encounters” does not mean that they were peaceful. Indeed, Mr. Blackhawk argues for seeing violence as being at the heart of U.S. history. “The lethal combination of disease and warfare,” Mr. Blackhawk tells us, “remade the human geography of North America.”
In the book’s sweeping synthesis, standard flashpoints of U.S. history take on new meaning. The taxation power that the Constitution granted allowed the federal government to fund its Western Indian wars. The Monroe Doctrine was designed not only to ward off European powers from meddling in Latin America, but also, and perhaps more immediately, to caution Spain and Britain to cease their longtime military aid to Native Americans fighting the United States. The Union’s mobilization in the West during the Civil War “developed the administrative and military infrastructure that subsequently enabled the federal government to subjugate the West.” The U.S. Indian wars of the late 19th century shaped the strategy and tactics of U.S. wars in the Philippines and beyond. Federal efforts in the 1950s to dissolve tribes reflected a Cold War ideology that distrusted anything that seemed remotely communal.
Although violence runs throughout the book, it is tempered by Mr. Blackhawk’s attention to Native American diversity and how Native nations persisted through these centuries of violence, “emphasizing survival rather than elimination.” The book is full of strong characters who stand out against dehumanization. Mr. Blackhawk draws on “Standing Up to Colonial Power” (2018), by the anthropologist Renya K. Ramirez, to highlight the Ojibwe Progressive Era leader Elizabeth Bender Cloud, who, as a Native teacher, mitigated the assimilationist impulses of Indian boarding schools. In Los Angeles, the Tongva leader Toypurina is remembered for her rising up against California’s Spanish mission San Gabriel in 1785. “By the end of the twentieth century,” Mr. Blackhawk writes, “after five hundred years of contact with Europeans, a new generation of Native leaders had endured the turbulent challenges of the Cold War era and entered the dawn of the new century, positioned to ensure that their communities never again faced elemental threats to their existence.”
Like Pekka Hämäläinen’s “Indigenous Continent” (2022) and Daniel K. Richter’s “Facing East From Indian Country” (2001), the comprehensive coverage of “The Rediscovery of America” makes it a useful book to read alongside or even instead of a textbook, or as a supplement for readers interested in broad overviews of U.S. history. While “The Rediscovery of America” takes its story past the ending points of those two books, it covers the 20th century fairly quickly and stops at the year 2000. David Treuer’s “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee” (2019) would make a good companion to tell the later parts of this history more fully. In any case, Ned Blackhawk has written a U.S. history that places Indigenous Americans at its heart.
—Ms. DuVal, a professor at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, is the author of “Independence Lost: Lives on the Edge of the American Revolution.”
Today’s hot-button issue is actually as old as the human race.
We live in an era of mass migration. According to the United Nations’ World Migration Report 2022, there were 281 million international migrants in 2020, equaling 3.6 percent of the global population. That’s well over twice the number in 1990 and over three times the estimated number in 1970. In countries that receive them, migrants are often blamed, rightly or wrongly, for everything from higher crime to declining wages to social and cultural disruption.
This article was produced by Human Bridges, a project of the Independent Media Institute.
But the frictions provoked by migration are not new problems; they are deeply embedded in human history and even prehistory. Taking a long-term, cultural-historical perspective on human population movements can help us reach a better understanding of the forces that have governed them over time, and that continue to do so. By anchoring our understanding in data from the archeological record, we can uncover the hidden trends in human migration patterns and discern (or at least form more robust hypotheses about) our species’ present condition—and, perhaps, formulate useful future scenarios.
Globalization in the modern context, including large-scale migrations and the modern notion of the “state,” traces back to Eurasia in the period when humans first organized themselves into spatially delimited clusters united by imaginary cultural boundaries. The archeological record shows that after the last glacial period—ending about 11,700 years ago—intensified trade sharpened the concept of borders even further. This facilitated the control and manipulation of ever-larger social units by intensifying the power of symbolic constructions of identity and the self.
Then as now, cultural consensus created and reinforced notions of territorial unity by excluding “others” who lived in different areas and displayed different behavioral patterns. Each nation elaborated its own story with its own perceived succession of historical events. These stories were often modified to favor some members of the social unit and justify exclusionist policies toward peoples classified as others. Often, as they grew more elaborate, these stories left prehistory by the wayside, conveniently negating the common origins of the human family. The triggers that may first have prompted human populations to migrate into new territories were probably biological and subject to changing climatic conditions. Later, and especially after the emergence of our own species, Homo sapiens, the impulse to migrate assumed new facets linked to culture.
From Nomadism to Migration
The oldest migrations by hominins—the group consisting of humans, extinct human species, and all our immediate ancestors—took place after the emergence of our genus, Homo, in Africa some 2.8 million years ago and coincided roughly with the appearance of the first recognizably “human” technologies: systematically modified stones. Interestingly, these early “Oldowan” tool kits (after the Olduvai Gorge site in Tanzania) were probably made not only by our genus but also by other hominins, including Paranthropus and Australopithecines.
What role did stone tools play in these early steps along our evolutionary path? Archeology tells us that ancient humans increasingly invested in toolmaking as an adaptive strategy that provided them with some advantages for survival. We see this in the noticeable increase in the geographical distribution of archeological sites beginning about 2 million years ago. This coincided with rising populations and also with the first significant hominin migrations out of Africa and into Eurasia.
Toolmaking in Oldowan technocomplexes—distinct cultures that use specific technologies—shows the systematic repetition of very specific chains of operations applied to stone. This suggests that the techniques must have been learned and then incorporated into the sociobehavioral norms of the hominin groups that practiced them. In fact, there are similarities between the first Eurasian stone tool kits and those produced at the same time in Africa. Technological know-how was being learned and transmitted—and that implies that hominins were entering into a whole new realm of culture.
While the archeological record dating to this period is still fragmentary, there is evidence of a hominin presence in widely separated parts of Eurasia—China and Georgia—from as early as 2 million to 1.8 million years ago; we know that hominins were also present in the Near East and Western Europe by around 1.6 million to 1.4 million years ago. While there is no evidence suggesting that they had mastered fire making, their ability to thrive in a variety of landscapes—even in regions quite different from their original African savannah home—demonstrates their impressive adaptive flexibility. I believe that we can attribute this capacity largely to toolmaking and socialization.
How can we envision these first phases of human migrations?
We know that there were different species of Homo (Homo georgicus, Homo antecessor) and that these pioneering groups were free-ranging. Population density was low, implying that different groups rarely encountered each other in the same landscape. While they certainly competed for resources with other large carnivores, this was probably manageable thanks to a profusion of natural resources and the hominins’ technological competence.
From around 1.75 million years ago in Africa and 1 million years ago in Eurasia, these hominins and their related descendants created new types of stone tool kits, referred to as “Acheulian” (after the Saint-Acheul site in France). These are remarkable for their intricacy, the standardization of their design, and the dexterity with which they were fashioned. While the Acheulian tool kits contained a fixed assortment of tool types, some tools for the first time displayed regionally specific designs that prehistorians have identified with specific cultural groups. As early as 1 million years ago, they had also learned to make fire.
Acheulian-producing peoples—principally of the Homo erectus group—were a fast-growing population, and evidence of their presence appears in a wide variety of locations that sometimes yield high densities of archeological finds. While nomadic, Acheulian hominins came to occupy a wide geographical landscape. By the final Acheulian phase, beginning around 500,000 years ago, higher population density would have increased the likelihood of encounters between groups that we know were ranging within more strictly defined geographical radiuses. Home base-type habitats emerged, indicating that these hominin groups returned cyclically to the same areas, which can be identified by characteristic differences in their tool kits.
After the Oldowan, the Acheulean was the longest cultural phase in human history, lasting some 1.4 million years; toward its end, our genus had reached a sufficiently complex stage of cultural and behavioral development to promulgate a profoundly new kind of cognitive awareness: the awareness of self, accompanied by a sense of belonging within a definable cultural unit. This consciousness of culturally based differences eventually favored the separation of groups living in diverse areas based on geographically defined behavioral and technological norms. This was a hugely significant event in human evolution, implying the first inklings of “identity” as a concept founded on symbolically manufactured differences: that is, on ways of doing or making things.
At the same time, the evidence suggests that networking between these increasingly distinct populations intensified, favoring all sorts of interchange: exchange of mates to improve gene pool variability, for example, and sharing of technological know-how to accelerate and improve adaptive processes. We can only speculate about other kinds of relations that might have developed—trading of stories, beliefs, customs, or even culinary or medicinal customs—since “advanced” symbolic communicative networking, emblematic of both Neandertals and humans, has so far only been recognized from the Middle Paleolithic period, from 350,000 to 30,000 years ago.
Importantly, no evidence from the vast chronological periods we have outlined so far suggests that these multilayered encounters involved significant inter- or intraspecies violence.
That remained the case moving into the Middle Paleolithic, as the human family expanded to include other species of Homo over a wide territorial range: Neandertals, Denisovans, Homo floresiensis, Homo luzonensis, Homo naledi, Nesher Ramla Homo, and even the first Homo sapiens. Thanks to advances in the application of genetic studies to the paleoanthropological record, we now know that interbreeding took place between several of the species known to have coexisted in Eurasia: humans, Neandertals, and Denisovans. Once again, the fossil evidence thus far does not support the hypotheses that these encounters involved warfare or other forms of violence. By around 150,000 years ago, at least six different species of Homo occupied much of Eurasia, from the Siberian steppes to the tropical Southeast Asian islands, and still no fossil evidence appears of large-scale interpopulational violence.
Some 100,000 years later, however, other varieties appear to have died away, and Homo sapiens became the only Homo species still occupying the planet. And occupy it they did: By some time between 70,000 and 30,000 years ago, most of the Earth’s islands and continents document human presence. Now expert in migrating into new lands, human populations flourished in constantly growing numbers, overexploiting other animal species as their dominion steadily enlarged.
Without written records, it’s impossible to know with any certainty what kinds of relationships or hierarchies might have existed during the final phases of the Paleolithic. Archeologists can only infer from the patchy remains of material culture that patterns of symbolic complexity were intensifying exponentially. Art, body decoration, and incredibly advanced tool kits all bear witness to socially complex behaviors that probably also involved the cementing of hierarchical relationships within sharply distinct social units.
By the end of the last glacial period and into the Neolithic and, especially, protohistoric times—when sedentarism and, eventually, urbanism, began but before written records appear—peoples were defining themselves through distinct patterns and standards of manufacturing culture, divided by invented geographic frontiers within which they united to protect and defend the amassed goods and lands that they claimed as their own property. Obtaining more land became a decisive goal for groups of culturally distinct peoples, newly united into large clusters, striving to enrich themselves by increasing their possessions. As they conquered new lands, the peoples they defeated were absorbed or, if they refused to relinquish their culture, became the have-nots of a newly established order.
An Imagined World
After millions of years of physical evolution, growing expertise, and geographic expansion, our singular species had created an imagined world in which differences with no grounding in biological or natural configurations coalesced into multilayered social paradigms defined by inequality in individual worth—a concept measured by the quality and quantity of possessions. Access to resources—rapidly transforming into property—formed a fundamental part of this progression, as did the capacity to create ever-more efficient technological systems by which humans obtained, processed, and exploited those resources.
Since then, peoples of shared inheritance have established strict protocols for assuring their sense of membership in one or another national context. Documents proving birthright guarantee that “outsiders” are kept at a distance and enable strict control by a few chosen authorities, maintaining a stronghold against any possible breach of the system. Members of each social unit are indoctrinated through an elaborate preestablished apprenticeship, institutionally reinforced throughout every facet of life: religious, educational, family, and workplace.
Peoples belonging to “alien” constructed realities have no place within the social unit’s tightly knit hierarchy, on the assumption that they pose a threat by virtue of their perceived difference. For any person outside of a context characterized by a relative abundance of resources, access to the required documents is generally denied; for people from low-income countries seeking to better their lives by migrating, access to documents is either extremely difficult or impossible, guarded by sentinels charged with determining identitarian “belonging.” In the contemporary world, migration has become one of the most strictly regulated and problematic of human activities.
It should be no surprise, then, that we are also experiencing a resurgence of nationalistic sentiment worldwide, even as we face the realities of global climate deregulation; nations now regard the race to achieve exclusive access to critical resources as absolutely urgent. The protectionist response of the world’s privileged, high-income nations includes reinforcing conjectured identities to stoke fear and sometimes even hatred of peoples designated as others who wish to enter “our” territories as active and rightful citizens.
Thanks to the very ancient creation of these conceptual barriers, the “rightful” members of privileged social units—the haves—can feel justified in defending and validating their exclusion of others—the have-nots—and comfortably deny them access to rights and resources through consensus, despite the denigrating and horrific experiences these others might have undergone to ameliorate their condition.
Incredibly, it was only some 500 years ago that an unwieldy medieval Europe, already overpopulated and subject to a corrupt and unjust social system, (re)discovered half of the planet, finding in the Americas a distinct world inhabited by many thousands of peoples, established there since the final phases of the Upper Pleistocene, perhaps as early as 60,000 years ago. Neither did the peoples living there, who had organized themselves into a variety of social units ranging from sprawling cities to seminomadic open-air habitations, expect this incredible event to occur. The resource-hungry Europeans nevertheless claimed these lands as their own, decimating the original inhabitants and destroying the delicate natural balance of their world. The conquerors justified the genocide of the Indigenous inhabitants in the same way we reject asylum seekers today: on the grounds that they lacked the necessary shared symbolic referents.
As we step into a newly recognized epoch of our own creation—the Anthropocene, in which the human imprint has become visible even in the geo-atmospheric strata of our planet—humans can be expected to continue creating new referents to justify the exclusion of a new kind of migrant: the climate refugee. What referents of exclusion will we invoke to justify the refusal of basic needs and access to resources to peoples migrating from inundated coastal cities, submerged islands, or lands rendered lifeless and non-arable by pollutants?
Author Bio: Deborah Barsky is a researcher at the Catalan Institute of Human Paleoecology and Social Evolution and associate professor at the Rovira i Virgili University in Tarragona, Spain, with the Open University of Catalonia (UOC). She is the author of Human Prehistory: Exploring the Past to Understand the Future (Cambridge University Press, 2022).
From the defeat of the coup government in Bolivia, the election of Xiomara Castro in Honduras, and the rise of Andrés Manuel López Obrador in Mexico, to the historic election of Gustavo Petro in Colombia and the return of Lula in Brazil, left-leaning governments are changing the political landscape of Latin America. However, even more progressive parties and ruling coalitions have failed to rein in the violence of the resource extraction economy and the domineering power of international capital flowing through mining, drilling, and deforestation operations across the hemisphere. Indigenous and environmental activists from Ecuador to Bolivia say that today’s extractivist economy perpetuates the violence of colonial domination, and warn that things are only going to get worse over the course of the 21st century.
In the latest installment of The Marc Steiner Show‘s special collaborative series with the North American Congress on Latin America (NACLA), we speak with a panel of Indigenous leaders, environmental activists, and scholars about how extractivism has come to dominate the politics and economics of Latin America, and what forms the anti-extractivist resistance is taking at the local and international level.
Patricia Gualinga is an Indigenous Kichwa leader and lifelong defender of the Amazon rainforest in her community of Sarayaku, Ecuador.
Pablo Poveda is a radical economist who works at the Center for Studies of Labor and Agrarian Development (CEDLA), a non-profit think tank in La Paz, Bolivia.
Teresa A. Velásquez is an associate professor of anthropology at California State University, San Bernardino, and the author of Pachamama Politics: Campesino Water Defenders and the Anti-Mining Movement in Andean Ecuador.
Studio Production: Kayla Rivara
Post-Production: Tom Lattanand, Bret Gustafson, Marc Steiner
Audio Post-Production: Tom Lattanand
Translation by: Bret Gustasfson, Adriana Garriga-López, Maria Haro Sly
Voiceover Readers: Adriana Garriga-López, Rael Mora
Read NACLA: nacla.org
Get updates from NACLA: nacla.org/newsletter
Follow NACLA on Twitter: https://twitter.com/NACLA
Donate to NACLA: nacla.org/donate
For more in-depth coverage of Ecuador and Bolivia from NACLA, please visit nacla.org.
The following is a rushed transcript and may contain errors. A proofread version will be made available as soon as possible.
Marc Steiner:
Welcome to the Marc Steiner Show here on The Real News. I’m Marc Steiner, and it’s great to have you all with us. The Real News and the North American Congress on Latin America, known as NACLA, have launched a podcast series to probe the contemporary issues in Latin America that affect Latin America and the entire planet. In our opening segment, we saw the emergence of the pink tide in the early 2000s with left-leaning presidents winning in Brazil, Bolivia, Ecuador, and Argentina. And now we’re in the midst of another pink tide. We saw Lula freed from prison, which we just talked about, coming back to power in Brazil, and then the election of young progressives like Gabriel Boric in Chile. In Mexico, Lopez Obrador, the amazing victory of the former revolutionary fighter, Gustavo Petro in Colombia, and the ongoing dominance of the socialist MAS party in Bolivia. First with the indigenous Evo Morales and now with Luis Arce.
Now, despite the victories of the left, South America remains deeply divided and the new governments of the left must address serious economic challenges that a legacy of imperialism and the invention of the United States over these last 120 plus years. And today it continues. The exploitation of natural resources created a dependence on what we call now extractive economies. Whether it’s mining for minerals, drilling for oil or gas, destroying forests like the Amazon being turned into pastures for cattle and fuels for soy that bring with it a total social environmental destruction, devastating many people in these countries and the environment around them. It threatens the entire planet. These resources extracted from the earth are usually exported without any processing. So when global prices are high, things can look pretty good, but if the price of commodities drop, economies can go into a tailspin like happened in Venezuela when the price of oil plummeted.
So the effect of extractionism and extraction is really far-reaching. Mines produce toxic waste, contaminated water supplies. Oil and gas do the exact same thing, and they don’t even create any widespread employment. Deforestation exacerbates climate change, creates inequality that pushes small farmers off their land. And on top of that, extractive industries create social conflicts that are often experienced most severely by women who are marginalized from their labor opportunities that do exist. And also at the moment, as always, have to confront sexual violence. So how is the second wave of left and progressive governments confronting their dependence on extractivism? How does that affect the economies? Can they change the dynamic and obtain control? Can they avoid the negative environmental and social impacts? And how are the social movements and activists responding to all of this? What are the alternatives, if any, and what would a real progressive government look like?
Well, that’s what we’re going to explore today and to help us wrestle all of this, my co-host is Brett Gustafson. He’s co-executive editor of NACLA. He’s a political anthropologist, professor of social political culture anthropology at Washington University at St. Louis, and his latest book is on Bolivia in the Age of Gas, that traces the struggles over natural gas in Bolivia under the 14 years of Evo Morales. And he’s done extensive work with indigenous people in Bolivia as well. So welcome Bret, great to have you with us.
Bret Gustafson:
Thank you, Marc. It’s great to be here.
I’ll introduce our guests today. We’re very happy to have with us guests from Ecuador and Bolivia. In Ecuador, the left-leaning president, Raphael Correa led the country for a decade. While many celebrated his efforts to redistribute wealth, he also expanded mining and oil activities, and he often attacked and criticized, even criminalized, the environmentalists and indigenous organizations who questioned these activities. And now the country has shifted back to the right with a new president. Today our guests include Patricia Gualinga, who is an indigenous leader of the Kichwa people of Sarayaku Ecuador, but she’s also the international relations director for the Kichwa First People of Sarayaku, a region that has been fighting for rights and for the environment for many years.
We also have Teresa Velasquez, an anthropologist and professor at Cal State Santa Barbara, who has studied anti-mining movements in the Ecuador and Andes, and the author of Pachamama Politics: Campesino Water Defenders and Anti-Mining Movements in Ecuador. Welcome to you both. And from Bolivia, we have Pablo Poveda, who is an economist who works for CSLA, the Center for Studies of Labor in La Paz, Bolivia. Welcome, Pablo.
Marc, you were thinking about the longer colonial history and the colonial legacies behind extractivism. Do you want to tell us a little bit more about what you were talking about that?
Marc Steiner:
As I was thinking about the crisis with extractivism in Latin America, I thought about how this really is a 400-year legacy. It begins with the Spanish and the Portuguese and the exploitation of the land and the genocide against indigenous people and the mining for gold and silver and all that comes with that. I think it is important to think through that, including the 120 plus years of United States imperialism throughout Latin America and the effect that has had. So there’s a historical root that gave rise to what we’re facing today with all these issues. And I thought that I’d like everybody to jump in on this and give their thoughts on what this means, but I want to start with Patricia to talk about what that historical legacy means and how it affects this moment.
Patricia Gualinga:
Well, for indigenous peoples, the issue of extractivism has been terrible, fatal. It has violated the people’s rights, it has destroyed our nature. And really, in some ways, the states and the companies have not followed the law, the constitution, or even the court rulings that we have been able to achieve in response to these violations. For us, extractivism is lethal. It implies the disappearance of the peoples, and it implies the violation of all our human rights.
Marc Steiner:
Pablo, if you want to leap in on this as well, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
Pablo Poveda:
Extractivism is a historical consequence in Bolivia. First, capitalism was not born from the internal contradictions of the Bolivian economy, but rather came from the outside. Therefore, there was no development of a strong internal economy and there was no mass expropriation of land for campesinos, which led to the rise of capital. And now this forms of backward production, which the ruling mass party refers to as the plural economy, are functional to both capitalism, exploitation of labor and exploitation of nature. That’s why, from this perspective, we define Bolivia as a backwards country with a mixed economy that lives largely off the rents or the revenues generated from the exploitation of natural resources.
This history sets the foundation for present day extractivism and the cycle of gas extraction from 2000 to 2022. And this is under complete [inaudible] of transnational capital.
There’s no local [inaudible] involved. Nonetheless, the economy entered into an accelerated downturn beginning in 2015. At its highest point, exports were over 6 billion dollars per year, and now the income from gas is only around 2 billion dollars per year.
We’re also experiencing a cycle of gold extraction from 2011 to the present under the control of private mining cooperatives, which is a form of backwards production that the current government is promoting in alliance with capital from China and other countries in the region. Compared to the sale of gas, which at least leaves 50% revenues to the national government, this mining cycle does nothing for the state. Gold mining largely operates through illegal means, and it has major environmental impact because it uses mercury for processing the gold. Bolivia has become the main global importer of mercury in the world since 2020. In conclusion, Bolivia cannot overcome its primary position as a country dependent on revenues from exporting unprocessed raw materials in a framework of capitalist relations of production. And now Bolivia is waiting for the renewable energy transition to exploit new raw materials, like lithium.
Bret Gustafson:
Thanks, Pablo. That was a really great historical overview of Bolivia with parallels in Ecuador. Really helps us to think about these cycles of extraction from silver to tins, to oil to gas now to gold, maybe to lithium next, and also that relationship with foreign capital. This is a theme we definitely want to come back to, Marc. So thanks so much for that historical overview. We’ll circle back to Bolivia in just a moment, but I’d like to turn to Patricia now to tell us a little bit more about the current relationship with the government in Ecuador.
Patricia Gualinga:
I think that the indigenous people and the indigenous movement have not had any government that really listens to their proposals. There has always been confrontation over the topic of extractivism. In this part of the Amazon, it’s the extraction of oil. In the south of the Amazon, it’s mining and the issue of water. This government is no different from the previous government or the one before that. This government is also extractivist and it is right wing. There have been strong indigenous mobilizations where people have lost their lives. The problem is that the entire economic model in Ecuador is based on extractivism, whether it’s oil mining, forestry, the list goes on. In this sense, there is a very strong struggle. We are waging in our territories. In the north, we have weekly reports of oil spills in the Amazon, mostly from pipeline failures that are contaminating water sources. And in the south, where our Shuar brothers and sisters are, we know that there is open pit mining where there are all kinds of rights violations.
The tactics are always the same. They try to divide the local people with promises that are never upheld. The government stigmatizes the leaders who protest, persecutes and criminalizes them. This has intensified in recent years. There has always been repression, but with the previous government of Correa this became much more visible and the new government has followed the same recipe. So for us, whether governments of the left or the right come into power, we have not seen great changes because the model is always built the same way. Some of them let us speak, some of them prohibit us from speaking, but they always violate our rights.
Bret Gustafson:
Well, that’s kind of a wake-up call to many people on the progressive side of things. You sometimes celebrate the election of left governments. Might we say that the arrival of the left changed anything at all in relation to this longer history of extractivism, whether in Ecuador or Bolivia?
Pablo Poveda:
I don’t doubt that the governments receive funds, but this entire extractivist practice has generated corruption at all levels. We cannot say that we are living in a country where these returns are reaching the most needy. There is an overwhelming level of corruption that has led to Ecuador being in a profound crisis, a total crisis, and things have become very polarized. In recent years, there has been terrible polarization. Either they want to put us in the right or they want to put us on the left and they have forgotten that we indigenous people are not one or the other. I don’t consider myself of the left or of the right. We are peoples who demand social justice, respect for the rights of nature and the real implementation of a plural national state.
Everybody knows that corruption in these governments has also penetrated the justice system. So if we try to work through the justice system, we don’t know if we are going to achieve justice. As we have seen over time, those who have power, regardless of what political line they come from, also control the justice system. So we are in a situation in which extractivism has led us to a state of corruption of the government. And the multinational corporations know this. They are interested in that because this facilitates their extraction of resources from the indigenous territories and from the peoples in resistance. And that is very sad to have to say these things about our country, but we have to tell the truth.
People sometimes say, oh no, we’re on the left and capitalism is the problem. But my question is, which capitalism? Because many times they refer to the United States, but I see that many of the mining companies are Chinese or they come from Russia and also from the United States and other moneyed countries. So what capitalist are we really talking about? From my perspective, we have to say that there has to be social justice transparency and that we have to battle corruption so that the benefits, whatever they are, reach the people that really need them in the [inaudible], the campesinos, the indigenous people that really need them.
Marc Steiner:
So I’d like to jump in for just a second. I’d like to hear what both Teresa and Pablo have to say and jump in a bit to talk and respond to what Patricia was saying in terms of the left and right divide. It raises all kinds of questions about the power of capital across the globe, how it affects everything. No matter if it’s the left or the right in power, it seems to hit almost every country. So I’d like to explore that first and let’s go Teresa, why don’t you start?
Teresa Velásquez:
Well, yes, of course. I completely agree with Patricia when she says that the government of Correa followed the same pattern as the previous governments. Both neoliberal government and the so-called socialist government bet on mining as a tool of development, as a model of development to “reduce poverty”. And this puts at risk the watersheds and the territories of indigenous people, [inaudible] Ecuadorians, and small farmers. And of course there’s some minor differences between the past or current neoliberal government right now and the Correas government. Both have opened the doors to foreign mining companies, but there is still a difference at the very beginning of Correa’s political project when it was still a broad-based coalition movement and people like [inaudible 00:16:10] were part of the government. We saw an openness to the demands of the anti-mining movement in the early years. For example, in April of 2008, the constituent assembly admitted a decree that basically reverted those mining concessions that were granted without having had prior an informed consultation with communities or that were located in an ecologically in sensitive zones.
This was known as the mining mandate, and it should have been applied to the most contentious projects in the region such as the [inaudible] project, which is now known as the Loma Larga Project, Rio Blanco, which is also in [inaudible] and other ones that were located in Intag and in the southeastern areas of the Amazon. But because Correa did bet on mining, he never implemented the mining mandate. This degree has been completely violated and was substituted by a mining law that sought a developmental extraction with a little bit more participation from the state. So the government basically created a national mining company to seek greater participation in the profits generated by mining activities rather than completely end or overturn those mining concessions that were causing so many problems.
Of course, for the anti-mining movement, the contradictions of the Correa government were obvious. On one hand, there was this government that was supposed to be a progressive government of the so-called “Citizens Revolution” leading an agenda for political and economic change. And while the constitution that came from this process did incorporate some important advances that support the indigenous and environmental agendas, changes like recognizing Ecuador as a pluri-national country reflected the longstanding demand of the indigenous movement. The constitution also recognized the right of what is called the good live or buen vivr or the sumak kawsay, as well as the rights of the pachamama, or Mother Earth. They were also called the rights of nature. However, this did not fundamentally resolve the problem of the economic model. The economic model continued to be based on extractivism.
Marc Steiner:
That was really interesting. Now Pablo, could you talk briefly from your perspective about what’s happening in Bolivia?
Pablo Poveda:
Yes, of course. This government or progressive government of the mass in Bolivia emerged from a political crisis of neoliberalism and of course accompanied by the social movement. The mass party represents itself to the movements as a savior, the party that is going to overcome the extractive model of exporting raw materials of the Bolivian economy. However, in reality, what has happened is that it has made itself functional to capitalism so that the exploitation of natural resources continues. Of course, we have livable [inaudible] with regards to the prices of gas and other export products that permitted the government to somewhat avoid social conflicts. However, when the situation changed and the prices fell, the government show itself as almost fascist, repressing the social movements.
However, this is the current situation. This government promised to overcome the extractive model of the economy and lead us to live well, and that there will be industrialization. However, economically, the results are terrible. The cycle of gas is coming to an end. Traditional mining is in a downturn. The total nationalization of mining was proposed, but that did not happen. There has been a proposal for two big projects. One is the extraction and industrialization of lithium by the government and the other is the industrialization of iron with investments of millions of dollars. But they’re not profitable and it has not happened. They say they’re progressive, but it is with capitalist content. When it comes to employment, 80% of the Bolivian population works in the informal economy, meaning they create their own jobs. And of that 80%, 87% are women. Therefore, we don’t see any results for the future. In fact, we see that extractivism is going to be intensified with the energy transition, which requires new materials to develop new technologies.
Marc Steiner:
So Bret, can you pick up on that a little bit?
Bret Gustafson:
Yes, thanks Marc. And thanks, Pablo. That’s really eye-opening for us to hear that in many ways the governments of the left, while they may have redistributed some of the money from extractivism in new ways, that the overall system does not really appear to have changed very much.
Marc Steiner:
So this has been a really important part of our discussion, I think. It’s unveiled a lot of contradictions and I think they’re really important to explore even more deeply. I’d like all of you to comment on this. Pablo, then Patricia and Teresa come back in, explore what all this means. If there’s people listening to our podcast at the moment, many of them would be on the left. And I want to be clear about what we’re talking about and we’re talking, it seems to me, in some ways about the huge power of capital across the globe, and even in Latin America that affects the political life and the economy of those countries, no matter who’s in charge, no matter which party wins. So are we saying we’re not seeing any difference at all? I’d like to explore what that means and I parse that out because I think it’s a very complicated and important subject.
Teresa Velásquez:
So I think it’s more about how do we re-envision socialism? How do we re-envision the left? And I think from the perspective of the anti-mining movement, what’s more important is that whoever’s elected is moving away from the extractive economy, and that includes oil mining, gas, extraction of forest and things like that. Their alternatives would be agroecology, community-based tourism, redistribution of land, redistribution of water. So some of those coincide with the socialist or progressive principles, but it’s not the kind of left that we have seen necessarily in Ecuador and other parts of Latin America because they’ve stayed within the same model of extractive development. So what I think people are asking and pushing for is a redistribution of resources and of power and a truly democratic system that’s going to consider the voices of communities, of women, of indigenous peoples, of Afro Ecuadorians; the people who’ve really have borne those effects of the extractive industry and everything that’s come with it, the pollution and the struggles over territory and water.
Marc Steiner:
So Patricia, what do you think about this? Is there no difference at all between the left and the right and the governments that they run when it comes to extraction? Is it all the same?
Pablo Poveda:
There is a difference in discourse. Some come with a beautiful way of speaking. So outside of the country, they are very much loved. But within the country they apply the same formula when it comes to extractivism, whether they are of the right wing or the left wing, they have all used the extractivism economic model, or they come with very strange proposals. But I think really no government has really known the state and the people that they govern. In Ecuador, we are so diverse, they come to impose an ideology and a way of governing that does not correspond with what we are really living. And for example, in the era of Correa, there was an oil bonanza. They say right now we are in an oil bonanza, but they spend and spend and spend. And the whole time we are in crisis.
The issue of healthcare, for example, is in a total state of crisis in the country. Many people complain that they go to the hospitals and there is no medicine, there are no supplies to provide care. It’s a huge crisis. This is the basic level. In Ecuador, we don’t have universal social security. Only people who put in years of formal work have social security. Therefore, it’s a country that has been in an economic downturn and it’s not doing well.
Yet, there is always talk about all the resources. Right now we’re talking about extractivism and then there’s the environmental issue. All of the forests that we indigenous people are protecting are now becoming a business; green business. And who’s receiving the benefits of that? It’s the government. And with a new discourse, oh no, we’re not going to destroy nature, but you have to be part of this green business. So for us, as indigenous peoples, each millimeter of rights has been fought for with deaths, with struggle, with so much struggle. But I do believe that we have a holistic vision that could transform the vision of our country and make it more equitable with greater solidarity.
Bret Gustafson:
Thanks Patricia. And for those in our audience who may not be familiar with these names, Rafael Correa, who Patricia mentioned was generally considered to be on the left, but as Patricia is saying, was fairly unfriendly to the positions of indigenous peoples and others who were opposed to more extraction. The current president of Ecuador is a fellow named Guillermo Lasso, and he is definitively on the right, so things aren’t getting better there. Patricia, did you want to go on?
Pablo Poveda:
That is not happening because the government of Correa, what it did is actually weakened the indigenous peoples through personal attacks. They imprisoned various leaders, especially from Morona Santiago, especially from the mining areas. They were locked up as if they were the biggest crime busts. Two indigenous leaders were put in maximum security prisons, and then the government tried to get all of the indigenous people to speak in their favor. There could not be a critical voice without repression. We’re talking about a government that enjoyed credibility at the international level because it was said to be of the left, but it actually repressed indigenous people. The indigenous people were good as long as they supported the government. We were the bad ones because we were saying we did not want oil to be extracted. We wanted our rights and therefore, we were the bad ones.
Under the current government, the government of Lasso, we have mining decrees and the expansion of extractivist economic activities. The government has not taken decisions to generate social justice in the country. There’s great amounts of crime. This government entered office with its hands tied with many promises and it cannot act. Therefore, in these years we have lived government after government, the misery that has been generated towards indigenous people. And overall, the persecution of indigenous people has never ended since the colonial period. This is our reality.
Marc Steiner:
This has been really fascinating. So let me come back to you, Bret, for just a minute here, because in terms of what we’ve covered in this conversation so far, which always happens in great discussions, they don’t always go where you think they’re going to go. So let me ask you where you’d like to take this now.
Bret Gustafson:
Well, Marc, I think we’ve hit on a lot of points that we were hoping to. The big one being that this is the challenge of confronting the power of capital. And obviously we see a lot of similarities between left and right governments when it comes to extractivism, even if there are some significant differences in government support for the poor, and we can’t forget about that. We’ve also talked about the corruption that comes with extractivism, as Patricia mentioned. Pablo draws our attention to the global crisis that capitalism appears to be in. So listening to Pablo, I think we have the potential for some sort of revolutionary change, but as Pablo was saying, he doesn’t really see that we have revolutionary subjects anymore. But listening to Patricia, it does sound like indigenous peoples have continued to struggle to carve out their own political spaces, some types of limited autonomy to chart their own futures. So we don’t want to be too pessimistic about the current moment.
Marc Steiner:
Now, I think you’re right, Bret. All we’re talking about here is the intense power of international capital. It doesn’t matter who’s in charge. How do we build another future is the question. It’d be interesting from all of you, from your perspectives, from the places you live in, the places you struggle in: what do you think about what you’re fighting for and how different it is in terms of each of your struggles and how things could change? Could they be different? What would it look like?
Patricia Gualinga:
The situation is very complex. We have attended several United Nations conferences, for example, the Climate Conference. And since the Paris Conference, the ones that have doubled or tripled their participation in these spaces are the extractive companies like oil and mining. They try to prevent any forward movement in climate negotiations for the benefit of the environment. And that’s terrible because we have very minimal influence in those conventions. Those companies also fund the meetings and they are in constant communications with governments. If things continue in this way, there really won’t be a real possibility of change. However, we try to build up from the grassroots to propose different visions that are friendly to the environment and that have social justice at the center in terms of a relationship with nature that is completely different from the one that exists now.
Sometimes people ask me why I participate in these conferences, and I say, really it’s to bother them, it’s to interrupt, to tell them that we are here, we’re not going to allow them to continue to work in this way as though we don’t exist. We’re going to continue to be in resistance. The solution really comes from strong communities that have autonomy, that have a vision of conservation. But that conservation must connect with the global level, with global benefits. The benefit of environmental conservation, but also equilibrium; eco systemic balance. I dream. I belong to a nation of 1,350 people. That isn’t even as big as a school in a western country. However, we are fighting so that our people can really live well, that we can live sustainably, and that our vision can transform the vision of the western world that is based on fossil fuels. You might say that this is a utopian vision, but this is our utopian vision.
Marc Steiner:
No, no, no. Patricia, that was good. It’s important. We have to have those utopian visions for the future, what the future could be like. And Pablo, the issue… Come in for a minute. And then Teresa, please jump in after that. And Pablo, you as a Marxist and a Marxist activist and theoretician, how do you see these contradictions that Patricia raised? It’s really important to probe into that. I’m curious from your perspective on that, and then I want Teresa to round it out. Pablo.
Speaker 6:
[foreign language 00:31:13] Yes. I think we are in a moment after the composition of capitalism. And if we do not overcome capitalism, I don’t think it’s a technology problem. Technology is good. We’re in the fourth industrial revolution, and I think it’s a wonderful opportunity for the hope of humanity. The problem isn’t that. The problems are the social relationships of production. And these debates that are about the overcoming of extractivism are taking place within the frameworks of capitalism. And we have to overcome that. Unfortunately, this populist governments have taken backwards steps and have damaged the perception of the left and of Marxist movements at the international level. And they have been based in an ideological discourse.
It is about generating an enemy in whoever questions their proposals, and that leads to polarization, racism, confrontations between the communities, between the people in the countryside and the people in the city. It’s a very arduous task. And with regard to the social subject, the revolutionary subject, the Bolivian working class and mining and oil are well paid. These are not the same conditions that led to the revolution of 1952 in Bolivia. Therefore, I think that we should bring together the different sectors of society in the search to save the planet and really seek an energy transition that stops climate change, that overcomes capitalism and brings together different parts of society. But I see it is very difficult to use this panorama, especially because after the pandemic, everybody wants to reactivate the economy and they want to reactivate by exploiting even more nature and the workers. Therefore, it is a very hard and a very long task for a society that wants to liberate humanity from capitalism.
Bret Gustafson:
I think those are really amazing observations. I just want to jump in quickly, Marc. As it often seems to happen sometimes here in the United States, we often look to Latin America for the solutions that we want. We want there to be a progressive transformation. I really appreciate it, Patricia, talking about the contradictions of the international climate negotiations. The fact that the wealthier countries are to blame. Maybe we shouldn’t always be looking for solutions in other countries here in the United States. I think we need to also be a little more militant in our opposition to extractive economies that we live under and that our consumption maintains elsewhere.
Marc Steiner:
That’s a really strong point. Teresa, do you want to pick up on that for a moment?
Teresa Velásquez:
Yeah, I’m thinking of my students right now. We can educate them, helping them make the connections around extractivism, water contamination, climate change, racism in both North and South America, and empower them to take action. From my perspective, I believe that this vision of the future also comes from indigenous people in the United States and in Latin America. So this vision is for a more sustainable future. It also has to be anti-racist. The future has to be anti-genocidal. It has to support the life of human beings and also non-human beings. And especially in Ecuador and also in the United States, it has to include the right to protest. The Ecuadorian constitution protects the right to protest, but despite that, we see how the most visible leaders are insulted and criminalized. So this future also has to include the right to protest and the right to have a much more profound democracy and support for more sustainable projects like agroecology, farming, community-based tourism, and other economic priorities that have been put forward by the indigenous movements in both North and South America.
Marc Steiner:
Let me jump in for a second here. A little sidebar that I was just thinking about and listening to what everybody was saying when we think about where the future might take us and you all think it might take us. I realize under my shirt is a Che Guevara shirt I’m wearing today. Che Guevara and that [inaudible] Revolution was in some ways a really different time, a different era. It was many years back, it was in my youth. I’m 76 now, so it’s a different time. So to pick up on that, and Bret please jump in here, I want to kind of jump in and talk about where you all think the future will take us now. Where could it take us? How can we get there? What does it look like?
Bret Gustafson:
Those are tough questions, Marc. I wish I had the answer to that myself because you’re right, it is a different generation and now we’re seeing more militants and more aggression from the right wing. And it seems like in some ways, I think the left is not sure what direction to go in. And there’s some, at least in the Latin American context, there’s a tension between an older school of left thought and newer concerns largely tied to the environment. And I think our guests have all made some great points. We want a future that’s not racist. We want a more egalitarian future. We want a future that’s not about ecological destruction. How do we get there? That’s a question that I don’t think I have an easy answer for.
Marc Steiner:
I don’t think any of us do at the moment.
Bret Gustafson:
I know that it’s going to take organization. I know that it’s going to take a shift. I see a lot of hope in young people in the working class in the United States. I see a lot of hope in the connections being made between anti-racist movements and environmental movements. No, it’s not the big green movements that are now on center stage. We see all kinds of movements on the front lines all over our country, connections between the movement for the climate, movements against police violence. I think this is definitely the key way forward, making more connections between different kinds of movements.
Marc Steiner:
I agree. I think that the motions internationally and nationally here in the United States are just kind of erupting and how they will turn out and how they will mold, what they’ll say to the future is something we’re going to see develop. We just don’t know. But it looks good.
Bret Gustafson:
And I think Patricia wanted to say something else, Patricia?
Patricia Gualinga:
I don’t know if this is possible, but we have to keep trying because we can’t just keep simply accepting what they’re doing. However, if we talk about progressive governments, Lula just came into power in Brazil. We’re very happy about this because we did not want Bolsonaro by any means. And Pedro won the presidency in Colombia, and we are also happy about that because, for the same reason, we did not want the other candidate.
These governments have seen what happens when you do the wrong things. Let’s hope that they do the right things. In their hands is the task to look for transformations in these countries, to respect rights, to make the changes that people want. In their hands is the possibility that the left can maintain a bit of dignity and we keep looking for solutions. I and my people are in resistance because we are sure that in our context we can look for those alternatives. We can seek those sustainable approaches because we are so few. But if we’re talking at the global level, we’re talking about the global economy, then the people with the money have to invest in things that do not continue on this path of destruction.
Marc Steiner:
Bret.
Bret Gustafson:
I think that’s great. I think picking up on that, it’s clear that it’s going to take more organization, more mobilization, more reflection, more understanding of what’s happening at different levels. And at the end of the day, it’s going to take putting pressure on governments and putting pressure on industries. I don’t think there’s any other way around it.
Marc Steiner:
So we’re adding this addendum to our conversation because Bret, a lot has happened since our recording and you’ve been following this fairly closely. So why don’t you update us on what’s happened since we recorded this earlier conversation.
Bret Gustafson:
Yeah, Marc. That’s right. In Ecuador, things have gotten a little bit disturbing. The Ecuadorian indigenous movement, CONAIE, has demanded the resignation of President Guillermo Lasso. He’s actually in the process of potentially undergoing an impeachment process in the Congress. In addition, sadly, an Ecuadorian Cofan indigenous leader named Eduardo Mendua was assassinated in February. Eduardo was the director of the international relations arm of the National Indigenous Movement CONAIE. He was also an outspoken opponent of continued oil development in his territory. Some observers suspect that conflicts tied to oil drilling and potentially to the state oil company led to his killing.
So very troubling indeed. In Bolivia, the new Mosque government led by Luis Arce continues to confront right wing efforts to destabilize the government. Plans to develop the lithium and steel are still at the forefront of government visions of the future. But because the natural gas exports are declining, that means less revenues coming into the country. The international reserves, which were once the envy of Latin America have dwindled, and to stave off a potential currency crisis, Arce’s government has moved to start buying more gold from gold miners in Bolivia. Meaning of course, that once again, the dependence on extractivism, particularly in the Amazon region of the country continues.
Marc Steiner:
I think this has been a fascinating discussion. It really has been. And I think that we were looking at extractivism, but we end up plumbing the depths of what our political future might be in Latin America and here. And I think it’s really important and wonderful. And I think what you’ve added to this conversation at the end means we have to take a deeper look into this and take another journey with these guests and maybe some other guests to look at where the future may take us and what’s actually happening on the ground. It’s really important because what happens in Latin America affects policies, lives and the world we live in. They can’t be separated. Never have been.
Bret Gustafson:
That’s right, Marc. I agree. Thanks so much for letting me join you today.
Marc Steiner:
And so as we go out, I do want to thank all of our guests today, Patricia Gualinga from Ecuador who joined us. Teresa Velásquez, who’s a professor of anthropology at Cal State University in San Bernardino. And from Bolivia, Pablo Poveda Avila, who’s a radical economist, working with a think tank, the Center for Studies of Labor and Agrarian Development. Of course, Bret Gustafson, this has been a great conversation. Thank you so much for taking the time today.
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