In this article, originally published on Mongabay, Pirawan Wongnithisathaporn and Thomas Worsdell describe how the indigenous peoples of Thailand, like many across the world, find themselves navigating global climate agendas and national environmental laws that position human rights as antagonistic to achieving biodiversity targets. This misguided notion has resulted in conflicting and outdated forestry laws and an increasingly securitized conservation strategy, which are jeopardizing the possibility of creating solutions that benefit the climate as well as people.
Thailand’s legal frameworks for biodiversity conservation and international climate commitments omit the important role that its Indigenous Peoples play as stewards of the environment.
A militarized conservation approach has seen Indigenous communities evicted from their ancestral lands, prosecuted for enacting traditional practices, and even assaulted and killed.
At the heart of the problem is lack of legal recognition of Indigenous groups, and therefore a refusal to grant them tenure rights.
This article is a commentary and the views expressed are those of the author, not necessarily Mongabay.
On Sept. 3, 2019, the remains of Porlajee “Billy” Rakchongcharoen, a Karen environmental and community rights defender who was disappeared in 2014, were found in an oil drum submerged under the Kaeng Krachan dam suspension bridge in Phetchaburi, Thailand. Billy was last seen by his community while being arrested by Kaeng Krachan National Park superintendent Chaiwat Limlikit-aksorn and his officers for allegedly collecting wild honey illegally.
Three years before Billy’s disappearance, under the same superintendent’s watch, 98 houses and rice barns were burned in the village of Baan Jai Phaen Din, also in Kaeng Krachan National Park. Charges filed by the community against the former superintendent and the officers were controversially dropped in early 2020. In the meantime, Thai authorities continue to claim the settlement is illegal.
Established in 1981, Kaeng Krachan National Park sits on Thailand’s central border with Myanmar. Before being evicted by the military in 1996, the Karen Indigenous Peoples lived sustainably for centuries inside the park in their original village of Baan Jai Paen Din, meaning “land of our heart.” Ever since the eviction, they have been systematically resettled into the lowlands.
Recently, Karen members began returning to Baan Jai Paen Din in the uplands. As a result, they once again face renewed threats of eviction from the military and the country’s conservation authorities. The ongoing conflict in Kaeng Krachan is perhaps Thailand’s most well-known conflict between Indigenous Peoples and conservation activities — but it’s far from the only one. The Kaeng Krachan conflict is a clear example of deeper issues embedded in Thailand’s legislative system.
The Indigenous Peoples of Thailand, like many across the world, find themselves navigating global climate agendas and national environmental laws that position human rights as antagonistic to achieving biodiversity targets. This misguided notion has resulted in conflicting and outdated forestry laws and an increasingly securitized conservation strategy, which are jeopardizing the possibility of creating solutions that benefit the climate as well as people.
In Thailand, as in other countries, the moral imperative of preserving Earth systems is being used as an avenue for continued rights abuses against already vulnerable and marginalized communities. Rather than recognize the rights of those who have traditionally managed lands, Thai environmental policy favors centralized approaches to conserving “strategic” resources. As biodiversity becomes increasingly scarce, combating biodiversity loss through increasingly militarized means seems to be less about conserving species populations and more about ensuring territorial control. The implications of these militarized approaches are militarized outcomes, conflict, abuse, displacement, disappearances and violence.
Indigenous relationship with land
Justifying the displacement of Indigenous Peoples from biodiverse areas for the purpose of conservation is a contradiction. Indigenous Peoples inhabit some of the most biodiverse and intact landscapes on Earth, and their knowledge and associated ways of life are widely recognized as being vital for conserving biodiversity. The acknowledgement of Indigenous knowledge is enshrined within the U.N. Convention on Biological Diversity. In national contexts, acknowledgement rarely translates to strategies that actually democratize decision-making or devolve leadership to Indigenous knowledge holders. Moreover, this knowledge cannot be treated the same as other knowledge systems. While Indigenous knowledge can be documented and shared, its conservation benefits are inextricably linked to the spaces in which it is enacted. Therefore, the displacement of communities leads to the assimilation of Indigenous ways of life into the wider realms of society, which ultimately results in a breakdown of their knowledge systems.
Highland Indigenous Peoples cannot simply relocate their culture and way of life to the different demands of a valley. When this happens, the loss of knowledge and identity central to locally applied environmental solutions become stories fondly shared by elders rather than strategies collectively enacted by communities to survive in their local environments. This is what the Indigenous Peoples in Thailand are fighting for: the right to continue their way of life in the “land[s] of their heart” that have supported them through generations.
Sadly, Thai laws and government conservation strategies have failed to recognize these relationships Indigenous Peoples have with their land, a relationship built on the notion that the nature being conserved and the Indigenous Peoples who live within it are both the community. This is, in part, the basis of many conflicts between Indigenous Peoples and their governing institutions across the world. What separates the plight of Indigenous Peoples in one country from another are the different national legislative mechanisms and political will (or lack thereof) to apply or redefine laws which recognize identities and promote the agency and self-determination of community-driven solutions.
Understanding Thai environmental laws
A country’s laws are intertwined with its history, and for Thailand these laws are embedded in its process of nation building. First, we must recognize that Thailand was never physically colonized by European states. However, due to close business ties with neighboring colonial governments, it adopted many similar land management and natural resource governance regimes.
Nation building also entailed building a Thai identity that was linked to the country’s dominant language and ethnicity, Buddhism, and the monarch. As a result, for most of Thailand’s history, its Indigenous Peoples have long been regarded as non-Thai, even outsiders or illegal migrants. This view has contributed to their systemic exclusion from Thai society all together. Last year, there were about 480,000 registered stateless people in Thailand, most of whom are Indigenous Peoples living in mountainous border areas. About 77,000 Indigenous elders in Thailand lack citizenship.
In the case of Baan Jai Phaen Din, park officials claim Indigenous Peoples to be migrants from Myanmar. This is a tactic used to justify their resettlement to the wider public. This view of Indigenous Peoples as outsiders by mainstream Thai society and within national laws has been a consistent struggle for the Thai Indigenous movement, despite data from a military Ordinance Survey Department showing that the Karen have lived in Baan Jai Phaen Din for more than 100 years.
In 1997, under the late King Rama IX, the hill tribes gained their current definition of Chao Thai Phu Khao (“Thai people who live in the Mountain”) from the government. While this definition finally recognized Indigenous Peoples as “Thai people,” it is a label that fails to acknowledge them as “Indigenous Peoples” in line with definitions in the U.N. Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples (UNDRIP). As a result, Thailand has still not fully recognized the Indigenous identities (Indigeneity) of the peoples who live within its borders. This lack of recognition or a selective understanding of what it means to be Indigenous is a common challenge across Asia as well as Africa.
Indigenous Peoples are associated with having “historical continuity with pre-colonial and/or pre-settler societies” and a “strong link to territories and natural resources.” Using only this part of the definition, it is easy to see how governments in Asia and Africa argue that all of its citizens are Indigenous and equally protected to rights under a country’s constitution. But Indigeneity is a complex construction, linked also to languages, cultural manifestations, ancestral lands, the desire to uphold traditional ways of life, and a collective self-identification as Indigenous. Indigeneity is linked to a different set of relations with the surrounding world, with the land. As reflected in the name of “Baan Jai Phaen Din,” the land is their heart and supports the continuation of their Indigenous culture that they are fighting to preserve.
Thai law does not support the relationship Indigenous Peoples have with their lands, consequently ignoring their rights to lands and forests. Even while Thailand has adopted the UNDRIP, it has not created the required laws specific to Indigenous Peoples that support their ways of life. Thailand has also not ratified the Indigenous and Tribal Peoples Convention of 1989 (ILO 169). One of the strongest laws supporting Indigenous rights is one within the Ministry of Culture; however it is the very definition and understanding of culture that is called into question in the Indigenous debate. Government officials are happy to promote traditional song, dance and artisanal work — attractive to tourists and transferable to the city and valley — but they are reluctant to enforce the ownership of traditional lands that are the foundation for that culture.
Instead, terms like chao khao, meaning “hill people,” reflect notions of “backwardness” and being environmentally destructive. With climate change, forest fires in the north have become more severe as the dry season becomes drier and longer. Indigenous villagers have been forced to fight fires, amid zero-burn policies that restrict traditional fire management practices, while being simultaneously blamed by the state for causing them. These narratives of supposedly destructive Indigenous practices are used in union with outsider or illegal migrant discourses to justify their eviction to civil society. In Kaeng Krachan, when the Karen returned to Baan Jai Phaen Din and began clearing land for rotational agricultural practices (recognized in 2013 as a national item of intangible cultural heritage), park officials filed charges against the community for “destroying the watershed.” This is simply not true. In fact, felling trees and creating fallow plots for rotational agriculture benefits the soils and biodiversity in the area.
In protected areas, a saga of violence and injustice
Thailand’s protected areas cover 19% of its national territory and are home to 1.1 million people. All trees, unless planted on private property, belong to the king of Thailand, and so do the lands on which they grow. This centralized control is reflected in the management of these protected areas, 80% of which constitute “strict nature reserves” and “national parks” under the IUCN’s definitions, managed by either government or government-delegated organizations. This leaves Indigenous Peoples with no ownership or managerial rights.
Enforcing this managerial regime has caused violence. On May 2, 2020, Luan Yeepa, 55, a Lisu member who was collecting fallen branches for firewood at the edge of his arable plot in Chiang Mai province, was assaulted by eight uniformed Chiang Dao Wildlife Sanctuary patrol officers. It was not an isolated case. In neighboring Pha Daeng National Park, the Lisu villages of Rin Loung, Tung Din Dam and Pha Bong Namg, to name a few, have had parcels of agricultural lands seized and crops destroyed by the park due to a forest reclamation policy aimed at increasing forest cover to 40% of the country’s terrestrial area. This policy, pushed by the junta-led government that took power in 2014, is at the core of Thailand’s international climate commitments.
The forest reclamation policy criminalizes Indigenous Peoples for using their customary lands and enacting their traditional practices. Between 2014 and 2019, Indigenous and local people were sent to court in a record 29,350 cases involving 136,576 hectares (337,487 acres) of farmlands being “reclaimed” by national parks. In 2019, 2,851 people were charged with encroaching into protected areas and 17,341.6 hectares (42,852 acres) of their farmlands were appropriated. By June 2020, a further 1,830 cases against Indigenous and local peoples were recorded. A summary of these cases was presented to the U.N. Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD) by the Network of Indigenous Peoples in Thailand.
What does the future hold for Thailand’s Indigenous Peoples?
Thailand’s forest reclamation policy is also connected to a string of amendments to environmental laws. One is the National Park Act B.E. 2562 (2019) amendment, aimed at resolving long-standing conflicts between communities and the state. As part of the amendment, 600,000 hectares (1.48 million acres) of non-forested lands were surveyed, and communities inhabiting these lands are now waiting to be granted 20-year use concessions from the government. Lands not recognized will be formularized as belonging to the government for the ostensible purpose of reforestation.
While this seems like a positive development, research shows that a further 1.6 million hectares (4 million acres) of Indigenous and local community lands lack legal recognition, almost three times those surveyed in official figures. These concessions do not translate to ownership nor do they secure tenure. The national park amendment also increases the fines, restrictions and penalties for using forested areas. Under the policy, conflicts will undoubtedly continue, if not get worse all together. As the international community promotes climate financing, a lack of tenure rights may lead to continued evictions to secure control of important carbon sinks.
For several years, Thai authorities have attempted to get Kaeng Krachan National Park recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. However, the committee has yet to add the park to the list, citing a lack of participation from local communities. But the government continues its attempts without amending its relations with the Karen community. In light of this, it is critical for the international community to create binding commitments for governments to recognize land rights and self-determination of communities as central to achieving their environmental commitments.
A recent study by the Rights and Resources Initiative showed that between 1.65 billion to 1.87 billion Indigenous and local peoples live in important biodiverse areas that require urgent conservation attention. In Thailand alone, these biodiverse spaces are home to 42 million people. As the future of the Karen conflict remains uncertain, what is certain is that if conservation strategies do not recognize local peoples’ rights to govern their lands, any efforts to prevent biodiversity loss will fail.
Pirawan Wongnithisathaporn is a Pgakenyaw Karen Indigenous person from Chiang Mai province, Thailand. She works in the Asia Indigenous Peoples Pact’s Environmental program integrating Indigenous knowledge and the rights of environmental defenders into climate change and biodiversity frameworks within the CBD and other international platforms.
Thomas Worsdell is a consultant for the Rights and Resources Initiative. His work focuses on the intersections between Indigenous Peoples’, local communities’ and Afro-Descendants’ rights with biodiversity conservation and environmental policy.
In this article Rebecca Wildbear talks about how civilization is wasting our planet’s scarce water sources for mining in its desperate effort to continue this devastating way of life.
Nearly a third of the world lacks safe drinking water, though I have rarely been without. In a red rock canyon in Utah, backpacking on a week-long wilderness training in my mid-twenties, it was challenging to find water. Eight of us often scouted for hours. Some days all we could find to drink was muddy water. We collected rain water and were grateful when we found a spring.
Now water is scarce, and the demand for it is growing. Globally, water use has risen at more than twice the rate of population growth and is still increasing. Ninety percent of water used by humans is used by industry and agriculture, and when groundwater is overused, lakes, streams and rivers dry up, destroying ecosystems and species, harming human health, and impacting food security. Life on Earth will not survive without water.
In the Navajo Nation in Arizona, Utah, and New Mexico, a third of houses lack running water, and in some towns, it is ninety percent. Peabody Energy Corporation, the largest coal producer and a Fortune 500 company, pulled so much water from the Navajo aquifer before closing its mining operation that many wells and springs have run dry. Residents now have to drive 17 miles to wait in line for an hour at a communal well, just to get their drinking water.
Worldwide, the majority of drinkable water comes from underground reservoirs called aquifers. Aquifers feed streams, lakes, and rivers, but their waters are finite. Large aquifers exist beneath deserts, but these were created eons ago in wetter times. Expert hydrologists say that like oil, once the “fossil” waters of ancient reservoirs are mined, they are gone forever.
Peabody’s Black Mesa Mine extracted, pulverized, and mixed coal with water drawn from the Navajo aquifer to form a slurry. This was sent along a 273-mile-long pipeline to the Mojave Generating Station in Laughlin, Nevada, to power Los Angeles. Every year, the mine extracted 1.4 billion gallons (4,000+ acre feet) of water from the aquifer, an estimated 45 billion gallons (130,000+ acre feet) in all.
Pumping out an aquifer draws down the water level and empties it forever. Water quality deteriorates and springs and soil dry out. Agricultural irrigation and oil and coal extraction are the biggest users of waters from aquifers in the U.S. Some predict that the Ogallala aquifer, once stretching beneath five mid-western states, may be able to replenish after six thousand years of rainfall.
Rain is the most accurate measure of available water in a region, yet over-pumping water beyond its capacity to refill is widespread in the western U.S. and around the world. The Middle East ran out of water years ago—it was the first major region in the world to do so. Studies predict that two thirds of the world’s population are at risk of water shortages by 2025. As ground water levels fall, lakes, rivers, and streams are depleted, and the land, fish, trees, and animals die, leaving a barren desert.
Mining in the Great Basin
The skyrocketing demand for lithium, one of the minerals needed for the production of electric cars, is based on the misperception that green technology helps the planet. Yet, as Argentine professor of thermodynamics and lithium mining expert Dr. Daniel Galli said at a scientific meeting, lithium mining is “really mining mountains of water.” Lithium Americas plans to pump massive amounts of water—up to 1.7 billion gallons (5,200 acre feet) annually—from an aquifer in the Quinn River Valley in Nevada’s Great Basin, the largest desert in the United States.
Thacker Pass, the site of the proposed 1.3 billion dollar open-pit lithium mine, would pump 1,200 acre feet more water per year than Peabody Energy Corporation extracted from the Navajo aquifer. Yet, the Quinn River aquifer is already over-allocated by fifty percent, and more than 10 billion gallons (30,000 acre feet) per year. Nevada is one of the driest states in the nation, and Thacker Pass is only the first of many proposed lithium mines in the state. Multiple active placer claims (7,996) have been located in 18 different hydrographic basins.
Deceit about water fuels these mines. Lithium Americas’ environmental impact assessment is grossly inaccurate, according to hydrologist Dr. Erick Powell. By classifying year-round creeks as “ephemeral” and underreporting the flow rate of 14 springs, Lithium Americas is claiming there is less water in the area than there actually is. This masks the real effects the mine would have—drying up hundreds of square miles of land, drawing down the groundwater level, sucking water from neighboring aquifers—all while claiming its operations would have no effect.
Peabody Energy Corporation’s impact assessment similarly misrepresented how their withdrawals would harm the Navajo aquifer. Peabody Energy used a flawed method to measure the withdrawals, according to former National Science Research Fellow Daniel Higgins. Now Navajo Nation wells require drilling down 2,000–3,000 feet, and the water is depressurized and slow to flow to the surface.
Thacker Pass lithium mine would pump groundwater at a disturbing rate, up to 3,250 gallons per minute. Once used, wastewater would contaminate local groundwater with dangerous heavy metals, including a “plume” of antimony that would last at least 300 years. Lithium Americas plans to dig the mine deeper than the groundwater level and keep it dry by continuously pumping water out, but when the pumping stops, groundwater would seep back in, picking up the toxins.
It hurts me to think about this. I imagine water being rapidly extracted from my own body, my bloodstream poisoned. The best tasting water rises to the surface when it is ready, after gestating as long as it likes in the dark Earth. Springs are sacred. When I feel welcome, I place my lips on the earthy surface and fill my mouth with their sweet flavor and vibrant texture.
Mining in the Atacama Desert
Thirteen thousand feet above sea level, the indigenous Atacamas people live in the Atacama Desert, the most arid desert in the world and the driest place on Earth. For millennia, they have used their scarce supply of water and sparse terrain carefully. Their laws and spirituality have always been intertwined with the health and well-being of the land and water. Living in mud-brick homes, pack animals, llama and alpaca, provide them with meat, hide, and wool.
But lithium lies beneath their ancestral land. Since 1980, mining companies have made billions in the Salar de Atacama region in Chile, where lithium mining now consumes sixty-five percent of the water. Some local communities need to have water driven in, and other villagers have been forced to abandon their settlements. There is no longer enough water to graze their animals. Beautiful lagoons hundreds of flamingos call home have gone dry. The birds have disappeared, and the ground is hard and cracked.
In addition to the Thacker Pass mine proposal, Lithium Americas has a mine in the Atacama Desert, a joint Canadian-Chilean venture named Minera Exar in the Cauchari-Olaroz basin in Jujuy, Argentina. Digging for lithium began in Jujuy in 2015, and there is already irreversible damage, according to a 2018 hydrology report. Watering holes have gone dry, and indigenous leaders are scared that soon there will be nothing left.
Even more water is needed to mine the traces of lithium found in brine than in an open-pit mine. At the Sales de Jujuy plant, the wells pump at a rate of more than two million gallons per day, even though this region receives less than four inches of rain a year. Pumping water from brine aquifers decreases the amount of fresh groundwater. Freshwater refills the spaces emptied by brine pumping and is irreversibly mixed with brine and salinized.
The Sanctity of Water
As a river guide, I live close to water. Swallowed by its wild beauty, I am restored to a healthier existence. Far from roads, cars, and cities, I watch water swirl around rocks or ripple over sand. I merge with its generous flow, floating through mountains, forest, or canyon. Rivers teach me how to listen to the currents—whether they cascade in a playful bubble, swell in a loud rush, or ebb in a gentle silence—for clues about what lies ahead.
The indigenous Atacamas peoples understand that water is sacred and have purposefully protected it for centuries. Rather than looking at how nature can be used, our culture needs to emulate the Atacamas peoples and develop the capacity to consider its obligations around water. Instead of electric cars, what we need is an ethical approach to our relationship with the land. Honoring the rights of water, species, and ecosystems is the foundation of a sustainable society. Decisions can be made based on knowledge of the land, weather patterns, and messages from nature.
For millennia, indigenous peoples have perceived water, animals, and mountains as sentient. If humans today could recognize their intelligence, perhaps they would understand that underground reservoirs have a value and purpose, beyond humans. When I enter a cave, I am walking into a living being. My eyes adjust to the dark. Pressing my hand against the wall, I steady myself on the uneven ground, hidden by varying amounts of water. Pausing, I listen to a soft dripping noise, echoing like a heartbeat as dew slides off the rocks. I can almost hear the cave breathing.
The life-giving waters of aquifers keep everything alive, but live unseen under the ground. As a soul guide, I invite people to be nourished by the visions of their dreams, a parallel world that is also seemingly invisible. Our dominant culture dismisses the value of these perceptions, just as it usurps water by disregarding natural cycles. Yet to create a sustainable world, humans need to be able to listen to nature and their dreams. The depths of our souls are inextricably linked to the ancient waters that flow underground. Dreams arise like springs from an aquifer, seeding our visionary potential, expanding our consciousness, and revealing other ways to live, radically different than empire.
Water Bearers
I set my backpack down on a high sandstone cliff overlooking a large watering hole. Ten feet below the hole, the red rock canyon drops into a much larger pool. My friend hikes down to it, filling her cookpot with water. She balances it atop her head on the way up, moving her hips to keep the pot steady. Arriving back, she pours the water into the smaller hole from which we drink and returns to the large pool to gather more.
Women in all societies have carried water throughout history. In many rural communities, they still spend much of the day gathering it. Sherri Mitchell of the Penobscot Nation calls women “the water bearers of the Universe.” The cycles in a woman’s body move in relation with the Earth’s tides, guiding them to nourish and protect the waters of Earth. We all need to become water bearers now.
Indigenous peoples, who have always been the Earth’s greatest defenders, protect eighty percent of global diversity, even though they comprise less than five percent of the world’s population. They understand water is sacred, and the world’s groundwater systems must be defended. For six years, indigenous peoples have been fighting to prevent lithium mining in the Salinas Grandes salt flats, in Jujuy, Argentina. Five hundred indigenous people camped on the land with signs: “No to lithium. Yes, to water and life in our territories.”
In February 2021, President Biden signed executive orders supporting the domestic mining of “critical” minerals like lithium, but two lawsuits, one by five Nevada-based conservation groups, have been filed against the Bureau of Land Management for approving the Thacker Pass lithium mine. Environmentalists Max Wilbert and Will Falk are organizing a protest to protect Thacker Pass. Local residents, including Northern Paiute and Western Shoshone peoples, are speaking out, fighting to protect their land and water.
We can see when a river runs dry, but most people are not aware of the invisible, slow-burning disaster happening under the ground. Some say those who oppose lithium mining should give up cell phones. If that is true, perhaps those who favor mines should give up drinking water. Protecting water needs to be at the center of any plan for a sustainable future.
The “fossil water” found in deserts should be used only in emergency, certainly not for mining. Sickened by corporate water grabbing, I support those trying to stop Thacker Pass Lithium mine and aim to join them. The aquifers there have nurtured so many for so long—eagles, pronghorn antelope, mule deer, old-growth sagebrush, hawks, falcons, sage-grouse, and Lahontan cutthroat trout. I pray these sacred wombs of the Earth can live on to nourish all of life.
In this interview, DGR Latin America correspondents Michael Robles and Alejandro Balentine speak to José Alfredo del Moral García who is part of a movement called Por la Defensa de la Sierra (In Defense of the Mountain Range) in Coatepec, State of Veracruz (Mexico). Por la Defensa de la Sierra is looking to protect one of the last remaining cloud forests in the world from politicians and companies that wish to exploit the land for profit and urbanization.
Michael Robles – I am very pleased to meet you, José. I am Michael Robles and this is my friend from Colombia, Alejandro.
Alejandro Balentine – Alejandro Balentine.
José del Moral – Hello.
MR – We are here on behalf of Deep Green Resistance to interview you. Can tell us a bit about what is going on in your community. Okay, so, how are you?
JM – I’m well, though we have just received some disturbing news. One of our comrades was assaulted yesterday. She was chased down, and right now we are in a situation, a dilemma to find ways to help in this municipality; how we can help with this security issue.
AB – I see, in DGR we work and support those human and non-human people who are protecting the planet as well as all the living beings and territories that deserve to be protected. We are only just starting to be involved in Latin America as we are an organization that originated in the United States, but it is a movement for the whole world. We are pleased to be with you. Tell us a bit about what is going on in your land, what is the story behind the movement, of the resistance – to create awareness of what is happening to all of you.
JM – Yeah, well, our fight is the Fight for the Voice of the Mountain as we say here. We have become the voice of Mother Earth here in our municipality of Puerto de Veracruz in the state of Veracruz and in Mexico. Fortunately, we have found people with the same objectives on a global scale and we have made contact with Talking Wings in Canada, and we have exchanged information, more than anything else, on how we have lived our struggle because it is something, well, precious.
My life’s purpose is to fight for all living things. It has been a long fight, I have been hunted and even attacked. This makes my position here hard as there are precedents of this sort of thing in Mexico, and in this state, too. I will tell you a bit about this issue: the land we are talking about is special as it is one of the remnants of the main cloud forest in the state of Veracruz. It has such a broad and large ecosystem and it is currently considered in danger – it is categorized as a zone under risk. The Mountain provides water to many communities including local governments such as Xalapa, Cardel, and Coatepec, obviously. This one in particular is very special because around 35 waterfalls have been discovered. We consider there could be more as this zone is quite wooded and water has circulated including where houses have been built, and even more so where trees have been planted we have found water sources. “Ojo de agua” (water spring) as we call them, so we consider there could be more hidden. There are waterfalls inside caves that are such wonderful things, the ecosystem is really beautiful that one just falls in love and you feel the need to protect them. We also have, here in Coatepec, two archaeological sites and the area that is being affected the most is called Old Coatepec. It is an archaeological site that witnessed the arrival of Hernan Cortes and some French & Italian people. It is said that Napoleon’s brother passed through here, so there is a lot of history here in Coatepec. This also gives such value and wealth, both culturally and historically, to this area. We have around 90 endangered species of flora and fauna that are already catalogued. They have already been referenced under Federal law, so it can be said, they are known by federal authorities.
MR – Could you tell us more about these plants and animals?
JM – Sure, we have reptiles. We have one that we call Dragoncito del Sur (Abronia graminea) which is a type of lizard. We have another one that is actually related and is called Dragoncito de la Sierra Madre Oriental. They are very similar, only the size is different. We have another one that we call Abaniquillo del Bosque Nublado (Anolis schiedii) which is also a small type of lizard that climbs trees. There is a great variety and even though we have their scientific names pronouncing them is difficult for me. We have underwater snakes that we know as Culebra de Agua Nómada (Thamnophis eques). As far as mammals we have four species categorized as endangered such as the Tigrillo (Leopardus wiedii), a cat. We have the Tropical Porcupine (Coendou mexicanus). We also have a marsupial known as Cacomixtle (Bassariscus sumichrasti), also known as Seven Stripes. We also have, for example, fungi known as Santitos (Psilocybe barrerae). We have the Hongo del Genio (Psilocybe yungensis), Hongo del Derrumbe (Psylocybe caerulescens), Hongo de Cemita Rey (Boletus edulis) which are the most affected in this area as well as some plants that are mostly orchids (Orchidaceae), Boca del León (Antirrhinum majus), Helecho Maquique (Alsophila firma), Magnolia Chivillo (Magnolia schiedeana) which are also endangered species. We also have around thirteen trees, bushes, bromelias and eight kinds of ferns that we can add to the endangered species list in this area. All this information can be found on our Facebook page – Por la Defensa de la Sierra. On the page you can find some excellent illustrations done by our comrade Monserrat Sánchez Guzmán, who in the spirit of spreading the word and teaching, illustrated each one of the endangered animals, flowers and trees.
MR – Yes, I’ve seen some of her drawings, they are very well done and they explain why they are so special to this place. They are endemic.
JM – They are 100% endemic and we consider that the forest is a natural treasure and that lately it has become affected by a group that I will talk about later. For now, I want to talk about the history of this land.
MB – Yes, please do.
AB – What is the extent of the wooded area, approximately?
JM – The area that is being harmed, or rather violated, is around 2,000 hectares, that is twice the size of our municipality. So, the thing is, Coatepec is a municipality with a lot of history. As I said before we have two archaeological sites. We have a story regarding the jailing of one of our first presidents of Mexico, Antonio López de Santa Anna. He was a prisoner here and then he was taken to the United States for trial. Benito Juarez was here, also Venustiano Carraza. In other words, historically speaking, we have a lot to tell and moreover it has been said our land has been so fertile that, since Colonial times most crop species have been cultivated here. The land will germinate practically any kind of seed you plant here above sea level. We have everything connected to the sea, the woods, the rain forest which all have many dimensions. You have a question?
MR – Who were the original settlers of this territory before the Conquest?
JM – It is said to be the Nahuas. The archaeological vestiges are of Olmec origin. Here in Coatepec, we assume that in the south the Olmecs lived and in the north, the Nahuas. It is said that Maximiliano de Habsburgo lived some kilometers away in a community called Mahuixtlán. There he had a big parcel of land and it is said that the natives during their struggle, their resistance, chased this emperor away because he was stealing land, stealing water, stealing many things. So people organized and drove him away. In 1984, Coatepec again had civil unrest when water supplies were privatized and piped to take it to other places like Mexico City. Because of this a committee was formed and organized. People from many communities started to come here to the Municipal Capital, expressed their concerns and they were granted an agreement by decree that forests would be left untouched. Also, water, even though it is belongs to everybody, would be quantified to be distributed among the communities. Coatepec is on high-ground and all the micro-watersheds as well as important basins flow in this part of Coatepec. Then all of the water sources meet along a river that travels through Jalcomulco, and then onto José Cardel, and then Chachalaca and finally the sea. Therefore, all the communities that depend on this river whose source is here in Coatepec are also affected and we have had the opportunity to speak with groups that are protecting the water, the rivers, and they are very favourably disposed to helping us out. We support them with the distribution of information and with whatever else we can. However, their struggle is a slightly distinct from ours as an hydroelectric plant is to be built here and the headwaters will be taken away.
Go ahead, speak.
RM – Alejandro, do you have a question?
AB – It is very interesting how you describe this land, how it’s full of life, water, diversity. It is fertile and it is important to always be conscious of it so it can be kept that way. It is rich but it is also a struggle for the people and species that live there, isn’t it? Because, as you said, other people want to steal it.
MR – Yes, it is truly a treasure.
AB – Exactly, it is like a treasure.
JM – It is a treasure, really, that’s why there is such outrage, such unrest, such struggle. That’s why we say we are the Voice of the Mountain because she can’t speak for herself. She can only speak to those of us who are more aware because of environmental knowledge, judgment or conscience. There is a pre-Hispanic heritage that has been constantly sacked and violated by people who are ignorant of history. Their own history and the history of our municipality echoes from its very core. So, we have Nature, as Alejandro said, this treasure that everyone wants to visit and be there with their families, but no one wants to be held accountable, no one wants to preserve, no one wants to keep conserving that history of the land. That is the unrest and outage of many, and I say many because we have noticed when we gather for a demonstration, a “plantón” (occupation). We say here, a plantón (this word is also related to the word “plant”) we use it symbolically as it means “to be planted.” So when we gather for a plantón, we have noticed a lot of people arrive, even through social media there are people supporting us. They even sent food during our last gathering. So, it was surprising that people who wouldn’t even consider it before, now turn up and check what’s happening in the park. They now turn their heads to see what’s happening and have decided “hey, we do not want that.” We want the outsiders to go away, we want the people who are killing this place to be thrown out. There has been a lot of interest by the inhabitants and that is something that we could not achieve before.
Now, what is the current threat and what lies behind it? Right here, coming straight from all the history I told you about before, the constant threat has always been land occupation. Who is behind this? Well, some politicians with bad intentions who make promises, stir up trouble and divide the people. Since January, 2019, militiamen occupied different pieces of land in a zone called Jinicuil Manso. They cut down the woods with the purpose of urbanizing them. Due to this, the Coatepec society as well as the landowners, looked to the government for aid so that this ecocide could be averted. The response was not what was hoped for and these invaders have intensified their actions, justifying their actions by claiming ownership of these 2,000 hectares. Apparently, there was only one person who owned the two thousand hectares, so it has been said that for over forty years he was the owner. There are many persons or owners that have valid documentation and they say that there are Federal funds that have been paid over to them to keep the woods healthy. How is it that for the last 15 or 20 years, Federal projects have been consistently carried out there every 4 years? Now out of nowhere comes someone claiming “I am the owner of these two-thousand hectares. I am the landowner.” I mean, it is inconceivable that a single person is the owner of those two-thousand hectares. I mean, it’s inconceivable to anybody who lives in this municipality that someone has title to all that land.
AB – What are they doing there? I mean, specifically this individual who claims ownership, what is he or she doing in those 2,000 hectares?
JM – They want to build suburbs, streets. They want to build streets, they want to cut the forest down to build houses, stores, whatever they want – they do not cherish life…
AB – Urbanization?
JM – Yes, urbanization. We have given ourselves the task of investigating. We know they have also investigated, so we have given ourselves the task of asking questions and finding out. We know that they are people with economic power. They disguise themselves as low-income individuals, having no land and no house. We have found out that they own other houses and other plots of land which they have stolen in a similar fashion. This is bad situation, and it doesn’t make sense that the municipal, state and federal government act in their favor. I say act in their favor because we have employed investigative lawyers in order to find out why land rights are being handed over to these individuals when there are owners already. The municipality also has areas where water is sequestered for purification and use for the townsfolk. So we say it doesn’t make sense that now they act as if they don’t know who we are or who the owners are and give it all away to other people.
Now, this is not just any group, they are militiamen whose identity we have looked into. They are known as the Central Independiente de Obreros Agrícolas y Campesinos (The Independent Organization of Agricultural Laborers and Farmers). It is a group that escaped from Chiapas after an armed conflict against the Zapatistas. We know they also are responsible for the assassination of comrade Galeano. During confrontations that’s what they did, and, after investigations and findings they started to fragment. Some of them came here, Veracruz, and they came with the intention of stealing the land. Also, several landowners that we know of have been threatened, assaulted physically, verbally and psychologically. We have a comrade that lives up there and he has been kicked out of his house, it has been stripped away from him – they have left him on the streets and they won’t allow him to go home. They are malicious and that’s what troubles us. We are a very quiet community. We always have a lot of positive energy, or to put it another way we are always thinking about the common good and do no harm.
Then these groups arrive saying “We’ll give it to them. We’ll give them grants. We’ll take away from the rich” (meaning the landowners, meaning us). As defenders of this area we have been called foreigners, been called gringos, been called everything. It is not right that as landowners and as citizens of this town we are the ones that have to protect it because the government does nothing. Some weeks ago, the President of the Mexican Republic, Andrés Manuel [López Obrador] had promised during a speech that he would come to talk to the landowners, sit with us and discuss the matter. Well, he came and he just didn’t allow us to speak. They just sent government employees who we found out later were dismissed and relocated to other positions. In other words, nothing happened. And the investigation file that we have demanded to this day hasn’t been received by our lawyers or the landowners. In other words, they have done nothing. So everything is done out of sight. We know that our municipality’s current political party was paid to sign fake documents. They fraudulently created documents to make themselves appear as the landowners. We have asked for an audience with the State Governor, Cuitláhuac García Jiménez. We have not had any response. We have also asked for an audience with the president of the Republic and we have not yet received a positive response.
We are ridiculed by those who are there to protect the people. So, there’s is another discussion to be had: Which “people”? Who are these people? We have been labeled as priistas (militants from the PRI party), panistas (PAN party), everything. Even here, a PAN government, we have been labeled as morenistas (MORENA party) and the Morenistas have labeled us as priistas and panistas. Nobody really wants to face up to and solve the issue. We have given ourselves the task of spreading the word, bringing news to each of the inhabitants of this place and to those outside about this issue because we want them to unite as one voice and to say ‘Stop this! Stop cutting down the trees. Stop this ecocide! Enough of promises and of campaign commitments that are never delivered.’
Any questions?
AB – From what you’re saying I see the hypocrisy and cynicism of the governments that call themselves progressive. I am Colombian and when all Latin America celebrated López’ victory I know that the president portrayed an image of a progressive and supposedly he is in conversations with different social sectors. But in the end, he either can’t deliver or has given in to certain private interests. This seems to happen in different supposedly progressive governments in Latin America. It is very sad, but it is the way it is. I believe we should denounce that hypocrisy and make what they do known and make the lack of a proper response from this supposed government known because it should be there to protect these important lands.
JM – Yes, most importantly to be more conscious of so many things in the world that are being exhausted very quickly. Countries have been invaded so that their natural wealth can be stolen. In Coatepec, and perhaps I speak also for Jalcomulco, there have been many attempts to steal water, to undermine the ecosystem. People here have dedicated their lives to planting and harvesting coffee. We found out about contracts with international companies, and later we saw small planes spraying many places and the harvest ceased. The crops started to disappear and we had to resort to other crops. An international company entered our land and they wanted to sell us coffee when we know their chemicals only nurture their crops and that don’t work for our crops. Many things like that have happened around here. Coatepec was a great producer of oranges, bananas and coffee. Companies would arrive and introduce plagues and oranges were taken away from us, then bananas, then coffee. We considered this natural wealth as very important for ecotourism but now it just can’t be done. They are introducing people that aren’t from this land and they are cutting trees down and eliminating our last collective hope of subsistence – economically speaking. There are people who live up there, 100% farmers from generation to generation and they live off the land. There were agreements that said “look, if your land is about 8 hectares, 2 or 3 will be for you and the other ones will be part of the forest. We’ll pay you for forest preservation.” That’s a way to earn a living, isn’t? What I mean, it was a really good deal for them. What happened? Well, these people come, cut trees down, fine owners (because of course law is enforced for that) due to the government programs that were in existence. Therefore, those who are acting and destroying aren’t punished or kicked out. Nothing is done to them. They are even supported to do so, and, well, this is the reason of such outrage.
MR – Do they have a set timeframe? When will the building start or has anything of the sort been announced? Or is it just being done surreptitiously little by little?
JM – The buildings are already there, and they are being done by those people. They are laying out the streets, building stores, building houses. They started by placing some tents. Others would start with sticks and tarps and they progressed little by little. By the time we realized, there was a house there already. They started to bring in sheeting and materials. It is not all the time but sporadically. For example, the landowners and ourselves perform watches and we have asked the National Guard to be present so the destruction is halted. Every time a landowner cuts down a tree they get fined for using this federal resource. We asked for the National Guard to be with us (something that they do not consistently do) and the perpetrators just make sure that they carry on bringing materials and cutting and building when the Guard isn’t around. So, it has been in stages, but even the pyramids have been sacked due to this dream, this idea that inside of them there’s gold. Mounds have been brought down as well as some pyramids and they have placed their tents there.
MR – What a tragedy! It has been happening little by little in the shadows and they have been gaining ground and they have also sought political backing.
JM – Exactly. Now, who’s behind, politically, this Central Independiente de Obreros? There are two parties that we know of. In fact, you can go to the official website and it shows that they are under command of Panistas and the Partido Verde Ecologista (Green Party). They are the ones who support that group politically and probably economically and they have greeted them with open doors to perform this ecocide.
AB – What have been the strategies that you have applied to oppose this? Resistance? Awareness raising? Protests? How can you defend yourselves?
JM – Well, we consider that it is fundamental to spread the word. We have a local radio station which is the Teocelo Community Radio. We are constantly in communication with them. So, if something happens, we immediately talk to them, they broadcast live and we give them the news of what is going on. A few journalists have also shown up. Many of them have been assaulted. They have been chased away. Some of them have been assaulted and their cameras taken off them because they don’t want the news to spread.
We also know the land very well so we can take alternative routes and still take pictures of the whole process. Every weekend, they throw huge parties with huge feasts where we have seen a lot of people who are not from here and its they who throw their parties here. So, we make ourselves aware of what is going on and then we spread the word. We have pictures of how they pollute the river and how they use it for waste disposal. What was once life, what was once a clean river, full of life, is now nothing but sewage. That’s what outrages us.
What we are also doing is resisting through our movement, “Por la Defensa”, we have been interviewed for different media outlets such as Jornada Veracruz, El Socialista, Radio Teocelo, Radio Huaya and have spread the news. This is pretty much what we are dedicating ourselves to, telling people where we stand on these matters and all the actions that we are carrying out. We do it just as our comrade Montserrat does through her illustrations. We do so through videos that I have sent to Michael – they are on the Facebook page. You can also find information on Youtube as “Por la Defensa.” We have participated in international and national gatherings such as Talking Wings and even through Max [Wilbert]. We have also participated via some comrades, spokeswomen of our struggle who fight under the name of Mujeres Zapatistas and, well, all of us have spread the voice of the Mountain and we have shared it with everyone. We consider it important because the more people who know about this, the more people can take the matter into their own hands. Globally, we also thank those people who have created links to sign petitions and make other countries aware of the situation. Such is the case in Switzerland and the United States that have helped to spread the news to our compatriots abroad, not only in Veracruz and Mexico.
MR – Yes, that’s very good and that takes us to our next question – what can the people from Mexico and abroad do to support The Voice of the Mountain?
JM – Well, our actions, which we share, are always focused on supporting, on spreading information, on being the spokespeople of the land, Mother Earth. Everyone should request a meeting with leaders, not only from Mexico but from around the world so we can stop this. I believe we are involved in a process to save the land. There is no turning back, it is now or never. That is what we and what I personally believe; we have arrived at a point of no return. It is now or never! Because there is only one life, we only live once. We have to enjoy life as a whole race not only as a few people, don’t you think? Let’s pay our respects to the land. If you consider it important to spread the word, then you’re welcome to do so. If you think there is another way you consider could help then you can contact us on social media: on Facebook, on Instagram, “Por la Defensa de la Sierra” and we can reach and decide what might be best. We can not only spread the word about our struggle, we can also be spokespeople for other struggles around the world.
AB – These people who are threatening the forest and your community, I imagine that they perceive it as a nuisance that news of this issue is spreading and that leads to their aggressiveness and threats. The violence has escalated against you. You must keep being a thorn on their side until they go away, until they leave your land. Do you think that would dissuade them? Because as we see through history, spreading the word sometimes is not enough, but sometimes it could be. I mean, it has to be a combination of different strategies.
JM – Well, for example, the first time we gathered for a plantón the world turned upside down. They wanted to punish us for gathering people together when it is prohibited because of the pandemic. However, the town mayor allows all the townsfolk to make a pilgrimage and hold a mass in church. His arguments are illogical, but we noticed something: at the beginning of our struggle, we were told not to say anything, that we should stay on the sidelines because it would be counter-productive to spread it around. The landowners started to get scared and there is something here that I would like to highlight: there’s the landowners and the movement. We as a movement wanted to partner with the landowners and help them spread the word on this particular issue. Four of us started the movement and then we started to grow. We were then told not to spread the word around because it would be counter-productive, legally speaking. We would say, how is something that is public knowledge be counter-productive or be legally harmful? It is illogical. Yet we respected the landowners decision during that time until we realized that their land was going to be taken away when the Mexican Secretariat for Agrarian, Land and Urban Development (SEDATU) arrived and said that they would establish boundaries in order give away their land and this is when we recognized that it was time to start spreading the word. We started to spread around as much information as possible; we copied documents, who was the sole owner, what was the urbanization project and we started to disseminate the information.
The lives that are in danger, the rivers, the trees, the mammals, we started to disseminate everything we had, and we had to make everyone aware of it. Then we started to share the videos and many other things. Eventually the second plantón took place. We were surprised to find out the crowd was bigger. There were people present that said, “I disagree with the forests being cut down” “I disagree with the pollution of rivers” “I disagree with the murders.” We started to have many more Voices of the Mountain and that encouraged us to keep spreading the word until we can do so no more. Yes, we are running towards danger. Yes, in Mexico there have been missing comrades who have fought in favor of the land, but this is not only in Mexico, it is around the world. What we want is to spread information about what is unfair and whatever is against life itself. That’s why it is important for us to spread the word.
Today, we received some news saying that Veracruz’ judicial branch president was relieved of her position, probably because of legal non-compliance. This is because she acted illegally, and word got out. In our case, we want to get to all organizations of all kinds so they know and become aware and take action in these matters because we are tired when a politician comes in and messes around with the needs of the people. We are tired of being promised land, being promised a wholesome life. Mexico has a great cultural diversity and it is not really fit for only one Nation project but for several kinds of Nation projects. We want to keep spreading the news until it is heard on every corner, that it echoes from the last tree and plant and animal so they feel safe knowing that there are people reporting what’s going on here.
MR – Thank you very much for such important work. I don’t know if you have more questions, Alejandro?
AB – Yes, actually, I wanted to ask, when you mentioned about this person that has self-proclaimed ownership of these two-thousand hectares – does it mean that you have information about this person. Do you know who it is? Or do you keep that information to yourselves as a safety measure?
JM – Let me double check that information. I didn’t consider we would talk about this person because he is a senior citizen that we think was brainwashed and was promised a lot of things. His name is Francisco Ruiz, the self-proclaimed landowner of the two-thousand hectares.
AB – Is it a natural person or does he represent a company?
JM – We do not know if he is a farmer or not, but he is not from here. He provided a fake address and we asked around. We were told that nobody knows him, they don’t even know who he is. We showed a picture of him and they said “we don’t know him, he’s not from here.” We continued investigating. He has a brother named Valerio Ruiz. I know they are from another place, another municipality and that they only put their names to become owners of that land, but they have nothing to do with Coatepec.
AB – Have you asked the Coatepec authorities? What answers have been given to you? What is the reason for this happening?
JM – We have been promised answers to our questions. Up until now we have had no answers. There was a meeting, on July 10th there was a convention to give the land to these people. Obviously as landowners and citizens we opposed the agreement because it would require the trees to be cut down, passing through where life thrives and we didn’t want any more setbacks. We chose not to let it through and we went to the meeting which was in session at that very moment and we were asked absurdities such as, “if you are the owner, how many trees are on your land?” There are people who have records of their trees and harvest and so they can give that information, but there are also farmers who say, “well, sir, I just sowed maize and I have delivered the harvest, I have already sold it” and it’s like, I don’t know, it’s just not logical. If you didn’t have that information then you couldn’t participate and the meeting was orchestrated by the mayor. There were meetings which ended up being outrageous because we were labeled as ignorant, labeled as demagogues, labeled as Morenistas, while all us who are defending the land including the landowners were labeled as invaders. Till this day we have received nothing substantial. We are told they will provide answers tomorrow, in two weeks, in a month, and just like that there are no answers from the municipality or the state. We have no way to establish contact with the Coatepec citizens and if we do, we are sent to the mayor and the mayor only talks about what will benefit him. He doesn’t listen to the voice of the people, he actually just listens to the voice of the politicians and it seems pointless to explain their interests.
As a community, as owners nothing has been given to us and when we go to court for support there really isn’t anything. Both parties must show up: the owners and the pseudo-owner of the land. When the latter doesn’t show up, we are simply told that there can be no audience because he didn’t come. But it could happen that if we don’t appear to court one day, they could say to him: “if you are the only person interested then we shall make a ruling.” Both results and actions are quite ambiguous. Nothing is clear. That’s why we are spreading the word around. We don’t have any other choice but to do so. People find out about what is happening, what is being carried out and they can’t really organize. They can’t really choose a way through, or say we have done this and that, because both the landowners and citizens aren’t aware of the issue so the perpetrators feel they can do what they want. When the spread of the information began, we managed to achieve a stalemate because nothing else could be done by the perpetrators. Therefore, there are many versions from the self-proclaimed owner, the mayor and from us who are in the movement. We protect ourselves in accordance to what the true landowners report to us as they are the ones who have direct contact with the issue. We spread the information and we perform watches and we do investigations, but the most tangible stuff is with the landowners.
AB – Thank you very much for your work. You are very brave.
JM – More than being brave, I think that as humans we must know that life comes from Nature. Culture comes from Nature. Everything comes from her and we go back to her. We have to be more conscious of that and thank you very much.
Editor’s note: DGR stands in strong solidarity with indigenous peoples worldwide. We acknowledge that they are victims of the largest genocide in human history, which is ongoing. Wherever indigenous cultures have not been completely destroyed or assimilated, they stand as relentless defenders of the landbases and natural communities which are there ancestral homes. They also provide living proof that not humans as a species are inherently destructive, but the societal structure based on large scale monoculture, endless energy consumption, accumulation of wealth and power for a few elites, human supremacy and patriarchy we call civilization.
For more than five decades, Indigenous communities in the northern Philippines have pushed back against the planned construction of hydropower dams on the Chico River system.
The river is of great importance to Indigenous communities in the provinces of Kalinga and Mountain Province, who call it their “river of life” and have depended on it for generations.
The Upper Tabuk and Karayan dams have been proposed in some form or another since the 1970s, but are now backed by corporations created by Indigenous groups, causing divisions among communities.
Critics of the dams have questioned the Indigenous consent process, a requirement for a project on tribal lands, alleging that some of the community support was obtained through bribery.
KALINGA, Philippines — On Nov. 12, 2020, Typhoon Vamco cut across the northern Philippines, flooding more than 60 cities and towns in the Cagayan Valley. Millions of dollars’ worth of property and crops were damaged.
Considered the worst flooding to hit the region in almost half a century, Vamco’s impact on communities was largely attributed to waters released from the Magat dam, one of the largest in the Philippines. The dam sits on the Magat River, a tributary of the Cagayan River, about 350 kilometers (220 miles) northeast of Manila.
In just 11 hours, the dam discharged more than 265 million cubic meters (70 billion gallons) of water — almost a third of the reservoir’s capacity, and enough to fill nearly 110,000 Olympic-sized swimming pools.
The disaster has rekindled criticism of dam-building in the region, including by longtime opponents of two proposed hydropower projects on another tributary of the Cagayan, the Chico River.
“The Cagayan flooding verified one of the many reasons why we maintain our opposition to damming any part of Chico River,” says Danny Bangibang, a leader of the Indigenous communities of Kalinga province, where the rivers are located. “We will not wait for the same disaster to happen in our own soil.” In his leadership role, Bangibang is entrusted with mediating talks among Indigenous communities and facilitating interaction with government agencies.
The two planned hydropower plants, the Upper Tabuk dam and the Karayan dam, are both set to be built on ancestral domain lands. Their developers have touted them as being pivotal to providing cheaper electricity and a consistent supply of water for irrigating upland farms. Some Indigenous groups and activists, however, have opposed the projects since 2008, questioning the exclusion of downstream Indigenous communities from the consultations, and alleging bribery and sweetheart deals surrounding the consent process.
River of life
The Chico River runs 175 km (280 mi) through Mountain Province and Kalinga provinces before merging into the Cagayan River. The Chico and its 12 main tributaries are the lifeblood of Indigenous communities in the Cordillera region of the northern Philippines, providing a bounty of fresh water for drinking and for irrigation. Its watershed is also home to a wealth of wild flora and fauna;28 species of wildlife found here are endemic.
“Similar to other civilizations around the world, communities and culture developed adjacent to the river,” Dominique Sugguiyao, Kalinga’s Environment and Natural Resources Officer (ENRO), tells Mongabay. “People refer to Chico as the ‘river of life’ because it is rightly so. Our ancestors drew living from it and we continue to do so.”
“Indigenous people have always been the stewards of land, including rivers from which they draw a valuable symbiotic relationship,” says Michael Sugguiyao, Dominique’s brother and the Indigenous Peoples Mandatory Representative (IPMR) to the provincial legislature of Kalinga.
Indigenous peoples have maintained their traditional knowledge systems, passed down from one generation to another, that prescribe the preservation and maintenance of the forests, he says. In those practices, forests are protected because they sustain the rivers with waters, which in turn, sustain the communities with food and livelihood — an unbroken cycle even in the 21st century, Michael Sugguiyao adds.
Any venture that disturbs or hampers the natural flow of the river will have an immense and profound negative effect on this ecology and the people who depend on it, Dominique Sugguiyao says.
Analyses of the environmental impacts of the Karayan dam submitted to the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) show that earthmoving activities during construction could increase water turbidity, which could decrease algae diversity. This would reduce the abundance of zooplankton, which feed primarily on algae, sending a ripple effect through the aquatic food chain. The natural migration and movement of freshwater species will also be impeded, and installing fish ladders is not a solution that will work for all aquatic species, Dominique Sugguiyao says.
Overall, the interconnectedness of biological communities will be disrupted and the productivity of the river system will be reduced, the analysis concluded.
The river is also a source of aggregate (sand and gravel) that today fuels a multi-million-peso industry in Tabuk, the Kalinga provincial capital, supplying construction projects across the province and in adjacent towns. Dams would also halt the flow of aggregate, destroying the livelihoods that depend on it. “The same [analysis] is applicable if the Upper Tabuk Dam will be constructed,” says Bangibang, the Indigenous leader. “Imagine the extent of the damage if both dams will [be] push[ed] though?”
The analysis of the effects of the Karayan dam applies to the Upper Tabuk dam, and could spell greater damage if both are constructed, he said.
Upper Tabuk dam: Dividing communities
The proposed Upper Tabuk dam would feed a 17-20-megawatt hydroelectric generator from a reservoir of about 5 million m3 (1.3 billion gallons) on the Tanudan River, one of the main tributaries of the Chico. It’s also expected to provide year-round irrigation for the rice terraces and fields in Kalinga, potentially doubling rice production in the “rice granary” of this mountainous part of the northern Philippines.
The dam would be built in the village of Dupag village, which lies within the officially recognized ancestral territory of the Naneng people. In 2009, members of the Minanga, then a sub-tribe of the Naneng, formed an Indigenous-owned corporation, Kalinga Hydropower Inc. (KHI), to back the construction of the Upper Tabuk dam at an estimated cost of 2 billion pesos (about $40 million at the exchange rate at that time).
KHI partnered with DPJ Engineers and Consultancy (DPJ), owned by Daniel Peckley Jr., a civil engineer who specializes in hydro projects and whose firm operates the 1 MW Bulanao hydropower plant, also in Kalinga.
Despite scattered protests, the project obtained the necessary permits from government agencies. By 2011, it was only lacking major investors to begin construction.
In April 2012, the opposition unified, with more than a hundred tribal leaders from 18 affected villages petitioning the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP), the Department of Energy (DOE), and the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) to cancel the permits.
They accused KHI and DPJ of downplaying the scale of the proposed dam by painting it as “a small hydropower development,” and said that the size of its water reservoir puts it in the category of a large dam under the standards set by the International Commission on Large Dams and the World Commission on Dams.
Mongabay made multiple attempts to contact Peckley by email and by sending a representative to his office but did not receive a response by the time this article was published.
Two months after the petition, the NCIP cancelled the certificates it had issued for the project. Five years later, in 2017, DPJ revived its proposal and reapplied for free, prior and informed consent (FPIC), a legally mandated process for projects with the potential to affect Indigenous peoples and their territories.
The following year, the NCIP identified five tribes, including the Minanga and the Naneng, as the only Indigenous groups who would be impacted by the project and thus who should be consulted for the FPIC.
In response, more than a thousand people from different tribes along the Chico River submitted their own petition against the Upper Tabuk dam, denouncing the potential impact on downstream Indigenous communities. These downstream groups say all tribes whose ancestral domains are connected to the flow of the Chico and the Tanudan should be included in the consultations.
“What is done upstream will affect the river flow in the downstream communities,” Bangibang says. “It is common sense that they too … should be consulted.” He also called into question the validity of the company’s original 2008 feasibility study, saying it skipped an FPIC process that should have been carried out before the study was conducted.
The hardships of agricultural life, however, have persuaded many in these farming communities to support the dam project and its promised benefits, undermining opposition to the dam, says Andres Wailan, an elder and bodong (peace treaty and alliance) holder of the Malbong tribe.
In 2019, three Indigenous communities, including the Minanga and Naneng, consented to the dam project, leaving two other communities opposed to it: the Talloctoc and Malbong. Leaders of the consenting tribes said in a November 2019 community hearing that they were won over by the promise of jobs, infrastructure and a share of tax revenue.
“We cannot blame the people [who consented] but we cannot also just let them make bad decisions,” Wailan tells Mongabay.
Within affected communities, the split has caused tensions, including among members of the same families, straining the strong kinship ties of the Indigenous peoples, says Naneng leader Jerry Bula-at, a member of the Timpuyog ti Mannalon ti Kalinga (Federation of Farmers in Kalinga), or TMK, a progressive group advocating for farmers’ and Indigenous people’s rights.
Within his own family, some members are in favor of the Upper Tabuk dam because of the promised access to better irrigation and farming development, he says. Similar rifts have appeared in downstream communities.
“If a project causes division among Indigenous communities, it should be enough grounds for the NCIP to stop the project,” Bula-at says.
The NCIP did not respond to Mongabay’s request for comment. But in a memo to its Kalinga office, dated Jan. 11, 2021, a copy of which Mongabay has seen, the NCIP regional office said the issues and concerns regarding the Upper Tabuk dam need to be settled first and “a common and united stance” among affected Indigenous communities must be achieved before the developer’s FPIC application can proceed.
Bula-at says Peckley should back out of the project knowing it has brought, and continues to bring, tension and division to Indigenous groups. “He claims that he is one of us but he does not act like one,” Bula-at says. “Indigenous peoples know that values and preservation of healthy kinship stand above monetary gains.”
Karayan dam: Wine and dine and bribes
A few kilometers from the proposed site of the Upper Tabuk dam, a larger project, estimated to cost 5.18 billion pesos ($104 million), has stalled due to violent opposition. The 52-MW run-of-the-river hydropower project is a venture by the Karayan Hydropower Corporation (KHC), which is, in turn, a joint operation of San Lorenzo Ruiz Builders and Developers Group, Inc., and the Union Energy Corporation.
Known as the Karayan dam, it would be built on the Chico River itself, in the village of Lucog, according to DENR documents obtained by Mongabay. Its 14-million-m3 (3.7-billion-gallon) reservoir would displace five communities. DENR identifies the project as “environmental critical,” meaning it has “high potential significant negative impact.”
Like the Upper Tabuk dam, the Karayan dam faced immediate opposition from Indigenous groups for its perceived impact on ancestral domain lands and the environment. It has also caused rifts within the community by “distorting information,” Bula-at says.
“They used the same deceptive tactics they used in gaining support for the Upper Tabuk dam,” he says. “They wined and dined people to manipulate them and sow disunity as a means to divide and conquer.”
Instead of directly talking to affected households, Bula-at says, developer KHC talked to residents whose properties fall outside the proposed project site, promising financial benefits and creating disputes with family members whose own properties lie within the area that would be submerged. Residents speaking to Mongabay on condition of anonymity say KHC gave out cash and gadgets, promising even bigger rewards if they agreed to the dam’s construction.
KHC did not respond to Mongabay’s requests for comment.
Ultimately, most of the tribe’s voting members gave their consent to the project. In response, Bula-at and 88 other elders and members of affected communities filed another formal objection with the NCIP.
Since then, tensions have risen in the communities, while engineering surveys and community engagement efforts by non-tribe members have been met with resistance and hostility. (During a visit, this reporter was apparently mistaken for a company representative; residents threw stones and even chased him with a machete.)
Large signs reading “No to Karayan dam” and “Our lands are not for sale” have been painted on the roadside retaining walls and large boulders in the affected areas. In 2017, more than 300 people attended a protest in Tabuk, led by community members, local clergy, and Indigenous organizations like the TMK.
Throughout that year, the Indigenous groups maintained their staunch opposition and disdain for KHC and its employees. Residents showed up at consultation meetings but refused to sign the attendance sheets and disrupted KHC’s efforts to present its materials on the Karayan project.
The tensions dragged on until July 2018, when the NCIP suspended the FPIC process. It justified its decision on findings of technical violations committed by KHC and allegations that the developer had paid some of the community members.
A roadside retaining wall vandalized with anti-dam messages. Image by Karlston Lapniten for Mongabay
Elders and officials from three villages said they met with a group of ostensibly new developers in January 2019 in an attempt to revive the consent process. But their efforts were rebuffed by residents.
On February 2020, a retaining wall along Naneng village was graffitied: “Don’t force me squeeze the trigger of my gun to speak the language of death. No to dam.” Another read, “No trespassing. No to survey. Chapter 45, Verse M16, M14, R4 to M79” — an allusion to the use of firearms. Residents won’t say who was responsible for the graffiti. A few days later, it was covered over in paint and mud.
‘The question is life’
Today’s opposition to the two proposed dams in Kalinga mirrors a similar resistance in the 1970s, when Indigenous communities joined forces to wage a decade-long struggle against the Chico River Basin Development Project (CRBDP).
A pet project of strongman Ferdinand Marcos while the country was under martial law, the CRDBP called for the construction of four massive hydroelectric dams that would have been the largest dam system in Asia at the time. Two of the dams would have been in Mountain Province, and two in Kalinga. The project’s sheer scale would have submerged Indigenous communities in eight towns, impacting around 300,000 people.
When their efforts to secure an audience with officials in Manila failed, the Indigenous groups resorted to civil disobedience, rolling boulders onto the roads to block construction workers and hurling their equipment into the Chico River.
Indigenous women played a particularly significant role in the campaign. In 1974, Bontoc women drove away survey teams in Mountain Province, while in Kalinga the women tore down the workers’ dormitory in Tabuk four times. They used nothing but their bare hands, says Kalinga elder Andres Ngao-i, who was in his teens back then. “It is taboo to hurt women, much more unarmed, in the Kalinga culture,” Ngao-I says. “It was a strategy. If it were men who dismantled the camps, there would have been bloodshed.”
Upriver in the town of Tinglayan, Indigenous women from other communities tore down construction camps twice. They also stripped down to the waist and displayed their tattooed torsos and arms in front of government personnel and armed guards, in an act known as lusay, which is believed to cast bad luck.
Other members of the affected communities took up arms as part of a community militia, while many joined the armed wing of the banned Communist Party of the Philippines, the New People’s Army (NPA).
The Marcos government responded to the opposition by sending in the military and declaring the area a “free-fire zone,” where security forces had carte blanche to shoot perceived “trespassers.” From 1977, cases of human rights abuses and killings racked up.
The assassination in April 1980 of Macli-ing Dulag, an outspoken pangat (village elder) of the Butbut people of Kalinga, by the Philippine Army’s 4th Infantry Division while inside his home tipped the scales in favor of Indigenous groups.
“The question of the dam is more than political,” Dulag said in a prescient interview shortly before his death for a book authored by journalist Ma. Ceres Doyo. “The question is life — our Kalinga life. Apo Kabunian, the Lord of us all, gave us this land. It is sacred, nourished by our sweat. It shall become even more sacred when it is nourished by our blood.”
Just as he foresaw, Dulag’s death magnified the resistance and mobilized various sectors across the wider region. The violent struggle ended in 1986 with the CRDBP being abandoned. The whole experience forced the World Bank, which had financed the project, to revamp its operational guidelines for infrastructure projects that involve Indigenous peoples. It was also key to institutionalizing the FPIC process, which gave Indigenous groups legal control over their ancestral lands.
The World Bank released its revised global policy on Indigenous-affected projects in 1991 to include a wider definition of Indigenous peoples, encompassing those who have close attachments to their ancestral lands, and who are often susceptible to being disadvantaged in the development process.
But the war for control of the Chico River hadn’t ended. The specter of Marcos’s mega-dams resurfaced in 1987, when then-President Corazon Aquino issued an executive order opening up the electricity generation sector to private companies. The latter quickly moved in; today, there are three large hydropower dams operating inside the Cordillera region that includes Kalinga and Mountain Province, and at least five proposed dams.
The Chico river pump irrigation system, the first infrastructure project in the Philippines that is funded by a loan from China, is set to irrigate 8,700 hectares of farmlands. Image by Karlston Lapniten for Mongabay
For Andres Wailan, the Malbong elder and veteran of the campaign against the Marcos-era dams, the current efforts to build support for the new dams rely on tactics that are all too familiar.
He says the process reeks of manipulation and deception, and suggests that the NCIP, which is meant to protect the interests of Indigenous groups, is complicit in it. “There are prescribed processes and guidelines that these proponents need to conform to, but they do not,” he says. “And the government office who are supposed to check these seem to turn a blind eye.”
Danny Bangibang, the Taloctoc tribal elder, says social media is a new battlefront, used by proponents of the dams to sow disinformation and vilify critics. “Proponents pick science and expert opinions that favor them and present them as absolute truths,” he says. “When this fails, they simply resort to made-up information.”
“We [Indigenous peoples] live here before the concept of dams,” Wailan says. “We will decide what we want with our lands and this must be respected. We will keep on fighting to maintain the natural flow of the Chico, unimpeded by any means, just as our forebears had done. We are not afraid; if the river will bleed red like before, then so be it.”
This article was published on Mongabay on 26th February 2021, you can access the original here.
Featured image: Dam project description from the government homepage. Image courtesy of the National Irrigation Administration JRMP Project Stage II
This article, written by Evan Lim, describes how glaciers are disappearing much faster that previous evidence based studies have estimated. Lim outlines the disastrous effects on communities.
Glaciers are disappearing to twice as fast as previous studies estimated, with disastrous effects on many communities.
Two new studies suggest that recent estimates of global ice melt are conservative.
In other words, ice is melting much more rapidly than experts thought. As a result, sea levels are rising faster as well.
The first study combines various observations from satellites, on-the-ground measurements, and model-based estimates to create a clearer picture of the state of Earth’s ice between 1994 and 2017. Essentially, it captures a global tally of change in ice mass over that time period. The resulting measurements of ice loss and sea level rise fall in the upper range of scenarios forecast by the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), a body within the United Nations meant to provide objective science related to climate change. The IPCC’s scenarios were laid out in their 2019 special report on oceans and the cryosphere, itself a recent overview of assessment work.
Faster sea level rise means that more areas will experience devastating floods sooner, and we are already seeing more of such events.
The second study zooms in on a particular region, rather than compiling measurements at the global scale. Focusing on Greenland, this study investigates how warmer ocean water affects marine terminating glaciers — those that end at the ocean. The authors identified at least 74 glaciers with retreats strongly influenced by warmer ocean waters, which expedite mass loss by undercutting a glacier’s base. Thus, the rest of the glacier is weakened and can collapse. Importantly, glacial melt contributes to rising sea levels; icebergs calving as glaciers thin adds water to the oceans.
Top and bottom illustrations show how the water thins the ice from below, making it easier for pieces to break off. (Source: Michael Wood et. al./Ocean forcing)
The authors of the first study emphasized that there is little doubt that the majority of ice loss is due to climate warming. In an interview with GlacierHub, Michael Zemp, director of the World Glacier Monitoring Service and a professor of glaciology and geomorphodynamics at the University of Zurich who is not affiliated with the study, stated that “Overall, the data show that climate change is happening and impacts are only increasing.”
Zemp also highlighted the complexity of systems in the cryosphere, emphasizing an important dynamic between the two studies in question. Broadly, the driving force of increased ice melt is climate warming. However, within glaciated regions around the world, there are specific characteristics that need to be taken into consideration.
For example, as the Greenland study demonstrates, the region’s glaciers are losing mass much more quickly as the ocean waters melt them from below, making it more easy for pieces to break and fall off. As this regional phenomenon affects the glaciers so significantly, the study authors point out that “projections that exclude ocean-induced undercutting may underestimate mass loss by at least a factor of 2.”
From the different characteristics of each region to the various measurement types (satellite, on-the-ground, modeling) to the time periods in which measurements are observed, models of the cryosphere have much to incorporate. Zemp notes that reports by the IPCC, which attempt to pull data from many different studies, can suffer as a result of the challenges of incorporating wide-ranging factors.
When asked how to reduce ice melt, Walter Immerzeel, a professor at Utrecht University, answered,
“the only real option is to reduce greenhouse gas emissions ASAP. The re-entry of the U.S. in the Paris climate agreement is a hopeful sign.”
Zemp’s conclusion echoed Immerzeel’s:
“the response is not easy, but still very simple. We have to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, and the Paris Agreement will hopefully help with this.”
The Greenland study notes that from 2008-2017, there was a cooling period in the ocean near Greenland. Despite this cooling, grounded ice (ice on land) continued to retreat significantly. As a result of previous warming, the glaciers have already been removed from their state of equilibrium, meaning the balance between mass gain and loss is gone. Even if emissions stopped immediately, there would still be lingering effects and mass loss as a result of the damage that has already been done. If emissions stopped, global temperatures would still be high enough for ice to continue to melt.
“It [climate change] was already urgent, but these conclusions further emphasize this. We need to act now and invest in both mitigation (reducing emissions) and adaptation (being prepared for the impact),” Immerzeel told GlacierHub.
He also noted that increased ice melt has significant implications for communities which rely on glaciers as sources of fresh drinking water and water for irrigation. For example, villages in Peru rely heavily on the Cordillera Blanca mountain range. The mountains and glaciers provide a rich cultural history, economic benefits through tourism and water used for irrigation, tourist guesthouses and household consumption. As the glaciers melt, the traditions of the culture that rely on the glaciers disappear, and people’s livelihoods are threatened by the impacts on tourism and agriculture and the sudden appearance of floods.
While certain damages are unavoidable, there can absolutely be more harm to come if significant action is not taken now.
Whether action is undertaken to protect current vulnerable communities or future generations, reducing emissions can shrink the burden people will inevitably have to bear. Communities are being affected as glaciers melt and sea levels rise, but the extent to which these damages will occur is still uncertain and can still be changed if the right measures are taken.
This article was written by Evan Lim, Columbia University Earth Institute, and published in Climate & Capitalism on February 17th, 2021. You can read at source here.
