Indigenous People Archive

Why Big Oil doesn’t need to spill to kill

Why Big Oil doesn’t need to spill to kill

(Above: Arrows belonging to uncontacted peoples, believed to be Mashco-Piro. Taken during a FENAMAD trip to Tayacomme, Manu National Park, Peru. © FENAMAD


Jorge, Murunahua man, who was shot in the eye by loggers on first contact in 1996, Breu, River Yurua, Peru. © Survival International

By David Hill

Editor’s note: David Hill is a former researcher at Survival International, an organization that has taken the lead in defending the rights of the increasingly embattled indigenous people of the planet, especially those who have taken a stand in defense of their native land. For more information, to sign up for alerts and to lend your name to the cause, see www.survivalinternational.org.

PERUVIAN AMAZON – The tragic Gulf of Mexico oil spill, which led to the death of 11 people, has generated enormous concern about the environmental impacts of oil exploration and exploitation. But what about the social impacts? What about oil operations that can decimate whole groups of people? As reserves dwindle and prices rise, oil companies are moving into increasingly remote parts of the planet – some so remote, like the Peruvian Amazon, that they are inhabited by indigenous people who have no contact with the outside world.

These ‘uncontacted’ tribes, numbering an estimated 100 worldwide, are extremely vulnerable to any kind of contact with oil crews. The reason for this is simple: they have lived so isolated from other people for so long that they have not developed immunological defences against outsiders’ infections or viruses, including the common cold and flu. It doesn’t take much to start an epidemic: a brief encounter between an oil crew member and an ‘uncontacted’ man or woman, a hand on a shoulder, the exchange of a t-shirt. The fact is, colds kill.


These spears were left by the uncontacted Indians as a message to bar outsiders from entering.
© Marek Wolodzko/AIDESEP

This is no exaggeration. Time and time again first contact has wiped out 50% or more of entire Amazonian tribes. The Nahua, in south-east Peru, are one example. After first regular contact in 1984 following exploration by Shell on their land and the subsequent influx of loggers using the tracks and paths cut by Shell’s oil crews, more than half of the Nahua died in the next few years.

‘Many, many people died,’ remembers one of the survivors. ‘People dying everywhere. People left to rot along stream banks, in the woods, in their houses.’

Oil companies often acknowledge the danger their work poses to ‘uncontacted’ tribes, but continue to operate anyway. Shell did just that: ‘a cold could easily turn into pneumonia and be fatal,’ said one Shell plan. So too Mobil in the 1990s when they explored in Peru: ‘these populations are very susceptible to respiratory and Western diseases. . . for which they have no natural resistance.’ More recently, Barrett Resources admitted contact was ‘probable’ and could be ‘disastrous’, but that did not stop French company Perenco from taking over their operations, in northern Peru, in 2008.

Worse, some companies actually encourage their crews to establish contact with the tribes and even provide specific phrases to use. Some of these would be comic if the consequences weren’t so potentially tragic. Barrett recommended saying things like: ‘We are people just like you’ and ‘Is something disturbing you?’ Repsol-YPF, currently working in the same region, has suggested this: ‘Use a megaphone to inform the natives in the local languages why we are there and that it is not the company’s intention to interfere with their activities.’


Abandoned hut, believed to be Mashco-Piro, taken during FENAMAD trip to Tayacomme, Manu National Park, Peru. © FENAMAD

Other companies take a different tack and act as if the tribes didn’t exist. That is what Perenco has done. In a report to Peru’s Energy Ministry outlining the potential impacts of a pipeline it currently intends to build in northern Peru to help transport an estimated 300 million barrels of heavy crude oil from the Amazon to Peru’s Pacific Coast, there is plenty of detail about the ‘contacted’ indigenous people in the affected region, including village locations, potted histories, and even demographic statistics. And the two ‘uncontacted’ tribes who live there? No mention, absolutely no mention, of them at all.

Another tactic is to argue openly that the tribes really don’t exist, or that there is no evidence for them. ‘This is similar to the Loch Ness monster. Much talk but never any evidence,’ said a Perenco spokesperson when confronted by a British journalist last year. ‘We have to conclude that the existence of uncontacted tribes is extremely improbable,’ a spokesperson from Repsol-YPF, operating in the same region as Perenco, told Survival. ‘According to information provided to us by Repsol, there is no evidence of un-contacted people,’ said ConocoPhillips, Repsol’s partner in northern Peru.

The tragedy in the Gulf of Mexico led to renewed calls for offshore drilling to be banned altogether, so why not the deepest Amazon too? Ignore what the companies say. There is actually a huge amount of evidence for the existence of ‘uncontacted’ tribes in these regions, and by operating there the companies are, in addition to violating international law and the UN’s Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, exposing the tribes to unknown diseases which could decimate them. No rig explosions required. Big Oil doesn’t need to spill to kill.

Click here to join Survival International’s campaign to stop oil exploration on uncontacted tribes’ land in Peru.


Temporary shelters built by an ‘uncontacted’ tribe in southeast Peru. © ACCA/Survival

Mining Real de Catorce: To destroy the sacred is the strategy

Mining Real de Catorce: To destroy the sacred is the strategy

By Tunuary and Cristian Chávez
Translated by Ken Hoyt

Editor’s note: I met Tunuary and Cristian Chávez and their father, Carlos Chávez, in February and March, when I accompanied Cristian and Carlos to Huichol territory and worked on a documentary about their work. Their organization, AJAGI (Jalisco Association in Support of Indigenous Peoples) has been at the forefront of the struggle to defend indigenous and environmental rights in Mexico and beyond. Here I republish with permission a translation of this article, which originally appeared in La Jornada of Jalisco.

A series of events in recent months has attracted international concern from civil rights organizations, the National Human Rights Commission, academics and members of the National Indigenous Congress, regarding harassment and destruction that has been directed toward indigenous peoples over their ancestral traditions and their sacred sites. Such things are happening throughout Mexico and in an especially alarming way towards the Wixárika (Huichol) people, who have denounced a series of attacks against their “other” fundamental territory—that which is spiritual and gives meaning to the framework of their internal politics and the fabric of their social organization, and defines their relation to the environment and other peoples.

It is a large territory, stretching from the sea to the desert in San Luis Potosi, where a group of jicareros* from the Wixárika community of Tuapurie-Santa Catarina Cuexcomatitlán were harassed by state police and municipal police from Station Fourteen while performing ancient rituals at the communal land of Las Margaritas. This harassment was described by the Indigenous National Congress as “an aggression against all peoples,” because it was an assault against something very fundamental—the collective spirit of a people.

However, this harassment is nothing new. Six years ago the intentions of the government of San Luis Potosi were made clear to the public, with their development plans to create corridors for mining production, agribusiness and sweatshops, megaprojects entirely upsetting the pilgrimage to sacred sites in the desert of San Luis Potosi. In parallel the government launched a campaign of criminalization and regulation of the ancient practice of collecting Hikuri (peyote).

The disintegration of collective land ownership through the Certification Program of Ejido Rights (PROCEDE) played a key role in this plunder, handing over huge areas of this great plain to multinational companies for use in agro-industrial production. The unaccommodating climate and soil will necessitate excessive use of agrochemicals and the overexploitation of aquifers.

Recently a new threat to Wirikuta ancestral territory arose in the form of a document presented by the transnational Micon International Limited, who published the results of mineral exploration carried out since July 2007 by Norvec, a Canadian mining transnational that has 22 mining concessions adjacent to each other and joined 6,326.58 hectares (translation from Diana Negrin of the Micon International Report) The geographical center of the concessions is the Cerro del Quemado or Leuna, the place where, according to Wixárika worldview, the Sun was born in the first times, where the ancestors walked creating the world and where today, Wixárika communities continue to make their pilgrimage recreating this ancient walk year after year.

On Sept. 14, 2009, the rights of the 22 concessions belonging to Norvec were purchased by an even larger transnational, First Majestic Silver Corp., who is seeking a monopoly on the production of silver in Mexico. First Majestic currently owns three operating silver mines in Mexico, La Encantada, La Parrilla, la mina de San Martin Silver Mines, and a project known as the Toro Silver Mine, and is now ready to exploit more than 13 million ounces of silver from Real de Catorce mining district.

Totally irresponsibly, and with disregard to the official designations as a Protected Natural Area as well as a UNESCO designated Historic and Cultural Heritage Site, along with those who call the area sacred, the Federal Attorney for Environmental Protection, the National Institute of Anthropology and History and the National Water Commission have all granted permits to the mining company to make their operation possible and have promised to pay $7,500 a year to communities as compensation for access their collective territories.

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This is a major threat to the environment and cultural practices of indigenous people of Mexico. Among other issues, the projected operating method of “open pit” — distinct from drilled shafts for the use of dynamite on surface, destroying entire hills while the crater is washed of minerals.

While this happens, the state continues to restrict and repress the Wixárika pilgrimage citing “harvest cuotas”, while peyote dealers operate with impunity as they process large quantities of the drug known as mescaline with the active complicity or disregard of government authorities, who in the media maintain an alleged war against organized crime, which in reality is a war against the people and militarizes and paramilitarizes the entire country.

The government’s supposed “concern” about crime has led to many instances of oppression such as that denounced by autonomous Wixárika community Bancos de San Hipólito, Durango. Recently during their ceremonial practice of the deer hunt, which is of tremendous religious importance, the Mexican Army cited their concerns about small arms to interrupt the ceremonial practice and confiscate the low caliber weapons that have always been used for this purpose.

What about the destruction of the sacred site known as Paso del Oso due to the illegal imposition of the highway project-Huejuquilla Amatitán-Bolaños in Jalisco, which today continues to be halted by legal processes and strong community mobilization by the Wixárika of Tuapurie.

The plunder dresses in very aggressive colors, on one hand unprecedented pressure was exerted for the implementation of multinational megaprojects by way of development plans and land ordinances. The violent aggression of paramilitary and narcoparamilitary groups and (with protection from State bodies) only grows in intensity. This is an attack on those that have maintained their indigenous identity for thousands of years, that which is tradition, the sacred sites and traditional practices.

Maybe it’s because global capitalist power knows that if the indigenous peoples have 80 percent of the natural resources necessary for global industrialization it is because they are one with nature, with the universe. And so that unity must be destroyed — and that is the official strategy.

* Jicarero is the name for those who are chosen to perform the sacred ritual each year of the pilgrimage to Wirikuta and the other sacred sites, and the collection of the Hikuri, or peyote.

tunuaryycristian@yahoo.com.mx

Cultural Survival: Using radio to preserve endangered cultures

Cultural Survival: Using radio to preserve endangered cultures

(Above: Concepción Aganel of Radio Niña in Totonicapan, one of the community radio stations fighting for legitimate status.)


Mark Camp, Operations and Interim Director, Cultural Survival

By Tracy L. Barnett

ANTIGUA, Guatemala – Between trips to the Guatemalan capital to stalk evasive Congress members and strategizing meetings with community radio activists from Huehuetenango to Lake Atitlan, Mark Camp is a tough man to slow down.

But I managed to catch up with him just as he prepared to pack up his big red truck and head north in his annual migration to Cultural Survival’s headquarters and his other home in Cambridge, Mass., to hear a little about what he’s been doing down here.

Cultural Survival is going on its fortieth year as the leading international organization in promoting indigenous rights and the preservation of indigenous cultures around the world. Mark, as its operations coordinator, can talk for a long time about needs assessments, political strategy, organizational development and the like.

But when he starts to talk about Miguelito, he really comes to life. Miguelito is the 8-year-old president of the youth auxiliary of Radio Sembradora, the community radio station of San Pedro La Laguna in Lake Atitlan, and in many ways he symbolizes the future of community radio and, indeed, the future of indigenous Guatemala.

Camp met Miguelito in a recent visit to the station, where Miguelito and his group of 8, 9 and 10-year-olds had created an alliance with local NGOs to organize a campaign to clean up Lake Atitlan. The iconic lake, once celebrated for its crystal-clear, volcano-encircled waters, has suffered epic proportions of wastewater and agricultural runoff, as well as a more visible problem: floating masses of plastic trash.

Miguelito’s group was broadcasting every Saturday morning, putting on a full lineup of environmental programming, encouraging listeners to fill up and bring in their plastic bottles to be used in building ecological housing.

“This guy’s going to be mayor one day,” Camp recalls with a chuckle.

Community radio in San Pedro and in towns and villages across the country has been giving voice to indigenous people young and old who are trying to preserve their environment, their cultures, their languages and their way of life, and Cultural Survival has tapped into this movement as a high-power way of supporting indigenous communities.

In Palin Esquintla, community radio helped to revive a culture and a language that was on the verge of extinction. In Sumpongo Sacatapequez, it brought a local musical tradition back to life. In town after town, community radio has given indigenous communities information about their rights, about their health, about local political and social issues, about their traditional teachings and much more – in their own languages.

Camp came to realize the potential of community radio when he was working on a publication for Cultural Survival called Voices, a publication aimed at disseminating information about indigenous rights and culture to indigenous groups around the world. The problem, he said, was that even with foundation funding, they were only reaching about 30,000 readers – less that a tenth of 1 percent of the 370 million indigenous people on the planet – and only in colonial languages – Spanish, English, French and Russian – not in their native languages.
Cultural Survival Quarterly, the organization’s venerable award-winning magazine, is an excellent publication, but it’s in English, and it’s mainly geared toward non-indigenous people.

Once the funding ran out, Camp was looking for other ways to get the message out among indigenous peoples.
“After thinking about it a very short while, the obvious choice is radio – and very local radio, because language in lots of indigenous communities is very local,” said Camp. “The people in the next alley might speak a different language – or at least a very different dialect. So we started thinking about community radio and how we could work with community radio stations to put more information on the air for indigenous listeners that might help them defend their own rights.”

In 2004 he began sounding out community leaders throughout Guatemala, and by 2006 they had found funding for a full-fledged Community Radio Project.

Access to community radio stations was one of the rights guaranteed to indigenous communities under the peace accords, but the government never followed through by setting up a system that would really give access to the communities. Frequencies were auctioned off to the highest bidders, and commercial radio operators were willing to pay sums that indigenous peasants would never dream of seeing in their lifetimes.

So the campesino groups decided to operate their stations anyway, and hundreds of them set up pirate operations in whatever facilities they could find and with whatever equipment they could cobble together. The stations were not technically legal, however, and they endured harassment from local government officials, raids on their stations, confiscation of their hard-earned equipment and even, in several cases, imprisonment of the broadcasters. Several associations of community radio stations had tried to get legislation passed that would solve the problem, but had failed. This was the situation when Camp came on the scene.

Cultural Survival’s goals were straightforward. First and foremost, the objective was to get all the community radio associations working together on a consistent piece of legislation guaranteeing each community the right to a radio frequency; second, workshops to teach radio volunteers how to generate high-quality content; third, to help the stations become financially self-sufficient; and fourth, workshops to help them with the nuts and bolts of running a professional radio station.

Three years into the project, the goals are well on their way to completion; most importantly, all the associations have agreed on the same piece of legislation and are working together, alongside Camp, for its passage. Camp is optimistic; all the major parties and many minor parties have signed on to the legislation, and folks at the grassroots, like Tino Recinos (see “Ex-Guerilla changes gun for microphone), are working hard to persuade the last holdouts.

A vote in the Guatemalan legislature is scheduled for Aug. 9, International Day of the World’s Indigenous People. Stay tuned to Cultural Survival’s page at www.culturalsurvival.org and to The Esperanza Project for news.

For excerpts from Mark Camp’s interview in Antigua, Interview with Mark Camp