the legacy of european colonialism

1717The Legacy of European Colonialism

Gregory Knapp

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South America was first “encountered” by Europeans dur-ing Columbus’ third voyage in 1498. This marked the endof the pre-Columbian period of the continent, and the be-ginning of the colonial period that lasted until the end ofthe wars of independence in the early nineteenth century.Total liberation of the continent from Spain was finallyachieved at the Battle of Ayacucho in 1824. Brazilian in-dependence from Portugal was achieved more peacefullyin 1822, when Dom Pedro became constitutional emperor.The Guianas remained colonies far longer; indeed Guyane(French Guiana) is still an overseas department of France,while Suriname (Dutch Guiana) became independent in1975, and Guyana (originally a Dutch colony, later British)became independent in 1966. It could be suggested thatdependency remained after the end of formal colonial rule,owing to the continued influence of global economic pow-ers on the continent. However, for the purposes of thischapter, the colonial period can be considered as lastingfor 326 years from 1498 to 1824.

If recent research has tended to enhance our apprecia-tion of the impact of pre-Columbian peoples on the SouthAmerican environment, it has also corrected some stereo-types concerning European colonial impacts. Europeanswere not the first to substantially impact the South Ameri-can environment. The colonial period was generally markedby depopulation and agricultural disintensification, with theresult that many environments were more “pristine” at the

end of the eighteenth century than at the end of the fifteenthcentury. Migrations, cultural hybridities, and new local,regional, and global economic linkages led to changes indemands on agriculture and resource extraction. New tech-nologies, crops, and social structures also had an impact.These impacts were not always as negative as sometimesportrayed, and local populations often had a substantial sayin the outcome. Many of the most noticeable impacts result-ing from the encounter with Europeans did not becomewidespread until after independence (McAlister, 1984;Bethell, 1987; Hoberman, 1996; Hoberman et al., 1996;Mörner, 1985; Newson, 1995; Robinson, 1990; Butzer andButzer, 1995).

In contrast to the case of pre-Columbian South America,we have substantial archival materials for the colonialperiod, and written accounts by official visitors and othertravelers, some of whom were erudite and reliable (Jimenezde la Espada, 1965; Caillavet, 2000; Cieza de León, 1962;Cobo, 1956; Guamán Poma de Ayala, 1980). Only a smallamount of research, however, has focused on the environ-mental dimension of the colonial South American world,in comparison with the larger amount of writing on politi-cal events, socioeconomic formations, and cultural char-acteristics of the Spanish, French, Dutch, British, andPortuguese empires. Many of the recent debates on theenvironmental dimensions of colonialism have focused onMexico (e.g., Butzer and Butzer, 1995), but we need to be

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280 Nature in the Human Context

cautious in applying insights from Middle America toSouth America.

This chapter will focus on the Andes, the main centerof activity during most of the colonial period. Coastal Bra-zil was another arena of action, but will not be discussedin detail here. Much of the interior and the far southernportion of South America remained under the control ofindigenous peoples, pursuing modified versions of landmanagement as described in chapter 16.

In this chapter, for the sake of clarity, sites will be lo-cated in terms of the boundaries of modern nations, but ofcourse these nations did not exist in colonial times. Instead,the continent was divided into administrative and juridi-cal districts under the control of the Spanish, Portuguese,French, Dutch, and British empires (figure 17.1). Theboundaries of these districts were often vague or contested,and considerable areas were not under effective imperialcontrol; furthermore, districts and their nomenclaturechanged throughout the colonial period. The map indicatesthe general pattern and nomenclature of administrativedistricts toward the end of colonial times, around 1790.Most areas were under the overall supervision of viceroys,

located in the Spanish viceregal capitals of Bogotá, Lima,and Buenos Aires, and the Portuguese viceregal capital ofRio de Janeiro. Other subdivisions included captainciesand audiencias; significant administrative and juridicalcenters of the Spanish part of South America includedCaracas, Quito, Cuzco, Santiago, La Paz, and Chuquisaca(Sucre). These cities were not only centers of imperial con-trol but also centers of European settlement and the intro-duction of European ideas, technologies, plants, andanimals.

17.1 Late Pre-Columbian Situation

In late pre-Columbian times, most of South America wasoccupied by agriculturalists. The major exceptions werefar southern Chile, Patagonia, and the Pampas, which wereoccupied by hunters and gatherers, and the Andes above4,000 meters, which were used for hunting and camelid(llama, alpaca) grazing. For the most part, settlement wasdispersed in isolated households or small hamlets or vil-lages. Even in areas where the population density was high,

Figure 17.1 Colonial administrative districts andselected cities in South America, about 1790.Boundaries are generalized.

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The Legacy of European Colonialism 281

as in northern highland Ecuador, quite commonly mostpeople lived close to their fields, with the major architec-tural and ceremonial centers being occupied only by chiefs,subsidiary ethnic lords, and their families and servants(Knapp, 1991). Large towns and cities did exist howeverin coastal Peru, and in parts of the highlands of Peru andBolivia; impressively large villages also existed along theAmazon River, according to Carvajal’s account of the firstexpedition down the river in 1541–1542 (Medina, 1988).

In late pre-Columbian times, the northern and centralAndes (and adjacent coastal lowlands) were the main lo-cus of intensive agriculture and landscape impacts. Thehighest arable slopes were used for potato cultivation thatemployed long fallows and rotational systems. Below about3,000 meters, maize cultivation had led to massive land-scape transformation. Irrigation canals snaked through thelandscape, enabling farmers to produce reliable harvestseven in areas with uncertain rainfall (Knapp, 1992b). In thesouth-central Andes, from what is now central Perú tonorthern Chile, true agricultural terracing (bench terracing)was widespread (Donkin, 1979). Raised fields were de-ployed in highland plains (altiplanos) from Colombia toBolivia. Desert coastal valleys were irrigated for a varietyof crops; and canals, water-table farming, raised fields,embanked fields, and sunken fields were deployed (Knapp,1978, 1982). Humid coastal and Amazon lowland areaswere also sometimes cultivated by using raised fields.Denevan (2001) has provided considerable evidence forintensive agriculture in late pre-Columbian South America.

Prior to European contact, the population of SouthAmerica has been estimated at roughly about 24 million,with about half of the total in the central Andes (Denevan,1992a, 1992b). Estimates such as this rely on collating andcomparing evidence from archaeology (settlements, aban-doned agricultural features), early accounts, carrying ca-pacity calculations, as well as analogy with areas outsideSouth America and extrapolation and interpolation to fillin gaps in knowledge. Even the best local estimates have ahigh margin of error. For example, in the Cara subregionof highland Ecuador north of Quito, 22 pyramid (ramp tola)sites are known; if all were occupied prior to the Inca con-quest, and each corresponded to a chiefdom of 3,000 per-sons, this would have resulted in a population of 66,000(Athens, 1978). The same region shows an abundance ofabandoned agricultural landforms, including raised fields.Since raised fields are an inefficient way to produce food(in labor terms), their use suggests that alternatives niches(slopes, irrigated zones) had been subjected to intensifica-tion to the point of comparable labor inefficiency. Givenassumptions about technology, crops, and available fertil-izers (mostly night soil and guinea pig dung), this in turnsuggests a regional population between 75,000 and 170,000persons (Knapp, 1991). These figures can be seen as broadlyconsistent with a statement of Hernando de Santillán, who

lived in northern Ecuador between 1563 and 1568. Heclaimed there had been a 4:1 depopulation since Inca times.Tribute figures suggest over 11,000 lived in the Otavaloencomienda alone, so Santillán’s statement would indicatea population much greater than 44,000 for the Cara north-ern highlands (Knapp, 1991). Taken together, multiplekinds of evidence begin to produce more confidence thatmany tens of thousands lived in this region. In theory, thesepopulation densities could be extrapolated to other areaswith less archaeological or ethnohistorical evidence.

A key problem with all population reconstructionsbased on agricultural landforms or settlement features isthe question of simultaneous occupation. Were all ramptola sites, or all raised field sites, used at the same time, orwere they in use at different periods? Although the Cararegion described above was likely to have been at a popu-lation peak prior to the Inca conquest, it is clear that sub-stantial parts of it were depopulated by the Inca conquestprior to the Spanish arrival (Knapp, 1991). In other partsof the Andean highlands, it is clear that some areas weredepopulated by volcanic eruptions (Knapp, 1999) or per-haps climate change (Kolata et al., 1999) well before therise of the Inca state.

Similar questions have arisen on the Peruvian desertcoast. Were all of the impressive prehistoric irrigation sys-tems in full use at the time of the Spanish arrival, or weresome abandoned (Schaedel, 1992)? In the savanna grass-lands of the interior, were the raised fields in use at thetime of the Spanish conquest or abandoned earlier(Denevan, 2001)? Further archaeological work is neededto answer these questions, but there is no doubt from Span-ish accounts that substantial areas of the tropical Andeanhighlands and adjacent lowlands were under intensivecultivation at the end of the fifteenth century.

17.2 Colonial Impacts

Although there has been continued speculation aboutearlier contacts, particularly by voyagers from Africa,Polynesia, and Japan, the north coast of South America wascertainly contacted by Columbus during his third voyage inlate 1498, followed in swift succession by other navigatorsand leaders of military expeditions. The conquest of the IncaEmpire may have been facilitated by an early smallpox epi-demic in the 1520s that propagated through indigenouspopulations in advance of the Spanish military (Crosby,1973; Dobyns, 1963; Cook, 1998). Caviedes (2001) has pre-sented evidence that this conquest was also facilitated byan El Niño event in 1532. Expeditions included extensiveforays into the interior, including Orellana’s expeditiondown the Amazon (Medina, 1988). These activities led tothe establishment of European mercantile empires and thebeginning of the “Columbian Exchange” of organisms

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(Crosby, 1973; Crosby, 1986; Viola and Margolis, 1991),tools, technologies, institutions, and peoples—indeed thebeginnings of globalization in the modern sense of the term.The environmental results have, in the long term, beenmassive. Linkages involved not only Europe, the home ofthe Spanish and Portuguese empires, but also Africa andAsia. African slaves were present on the earliest expeditions,and African plants (bananas, plantains, and a variety of rice)were among the early introductions (Carney, 1998). Migra-tion throughout the colonial period contributed to the pro-cess of diffusion (Robinson, 1990).

Butzer has pointed out lack of concrete empirical datato prove the point of a hypothesized “devastated coloniallandscape” for New Spain. He also has discussed the evi-dence that European and Mediterranean land use was“overwhelmingly conservationist since prehistoric times”(Butzer, 1992). Unlike New Spain, there have been noscholarly claims for widespread colonial devastation inSouth America, and indeed there is little empirical evi-dence for such claims. However, local impacts were some-times substantial. South America is a diverse continent,and colonial impacts varied from place to place. In gen-eral, one can distinguish between (1) zones of conquest ofindigenous labor, (2) zones of relative colonial neglect, and(3) zones of indigenous suppression and creation of neweconomies and peoples.

The central Andes (roughly, modern Ecuador, Perú, andBolivia) were the center of the Inca Empire and remained theregion of greatest indigenous population density. Spaniardsreorganized the economy around the needs of the silver ex-port sector, including transportation infrastructure (oxcarts,mules), labor supply provisions, and the creation of food andtextile supply networks for mine and plantation workers, andurban dwellers. This has been considered an example of anenclave economy (Glade, 1969), segregated from but depen-dent on the surrounding subsistence agricultural economy ofsurviving indigenous farmers and, to some extent, large agri-cultural estates. At the same time, there were many inter-changes, transactions, and hybridities generated by the closeproximity of European, indigenous, and other castas(Hoberman and Socolow, 1996).

Other areas of South America were relatively neglectedduring colonial times, either through fierce local resistanceto colonial rule or because of a lack of resources attractiveto Europeans. These include what are now southern Chile,Argentine Patagonia, and much of the Amazon basin.

Finally, some areas of South America were sites of long-term extermination or absorption of indigenous culturesin the context of an inflow of European and especiallyAfrican populations, and the absence of any successfulpolicy for protecting and sustaining indigenous commu-nities with a chiefdom or villager form of social organiza-tion. These regions included much of what are nowColombia and Venezuela, eastern Brazil, and Uruguay, aswell as northern Chile and Argentina. The censuses of the

late colonial period show the demise of indigenous popu-lations and the rise of African-American populations inthese regions (Caviedes and Knapp, 1996; Schaedel, 1992).

17.3 The Central Andes

Even in the Central Andes, the conquest began a long pe-riod of depopulation, as European and African diseasessuch as smallpox, measles, and malaria spread among lo-cal populations (Dobyns, 1963; Cook, 1998; Newson, 1995).The drafting of local peoples into plantations and miningactivities as labor and slaves may also have played a partin population decline. Populations were relocated or “re-duced” to nucleated planned settlements for the purposesof improved health, labor supply, taxation, religious indoc-trination, and governability. Spanish towns were estab-lished according to then understood principles of townplanning. Thus, Trujillo, Lima, and other coastal Peruviancities were sited next to rivers, placing them at risk forflooding during El Niño events (Schaedel, 1992; Caviedes,2001). Under Viceroy Francisco de Toledo (1569–1585),the settlement hierarchy of the central Andes was workedout, so that many municipal capitals today are old pueb-los de indios founded in his time, although quite a few wereforced to relocate due to disasters such as floods or earth-quakes (Schaedel, 1992), and their character became mes-tizo rather than Indian (Gade and Escobar, 1982). Theseparation of Spanish and Indian towns, and residentialsegregation in cities, was as much to preserve a measureof Indian autonomy (Butzer, 1992) as to exclude indigenouspeople from Spanish society.

Spain attempted to settle colonists in its new territories,but despite the experience with the reconquista in Iberia,had no experience with distant overseas colonization; as aresult it experimented, using the institution of the land grant(merced), which tended in the New World to work againsta small freehold tradition (Butzer, 1992). Although landgrants could not include lands under cultivation by indig-enous people, and repartimientos of indigenous labor pre-cluded land rights, Borchert de Moreno (1981) has providedarchival details from highland Ecuador on how in practiceSpaniards were able to amass large estates, in some casesthrough strategic marriages with wealthy indigenous womenwho bequeathed their inheritances to their husbands. Indig-enous depopulation and resettlement created further oppor-tunities for the expansion of estates. The estates dependedon indigenous labor, so the landscape in more densely popu-lated regions tended toward a pattern of latifundia sur-rounded by indigenous minifundia. In areas like Colquepatain highland Perú, indigenous people were assigned subsis-tence plots that ignored previous management plans involv-ing sectoral fallows (Zimmerer, 1996; Gade and Escobar,1982; Orlove and Godoy, 1986). Although intended to pro-vide for indigenous survival, such plans were disruptive and

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often resisted by local Indians, who attempted, often suc-cessfully, to re-establish dispersed settlement and old waysof territorial control.

The Spanish were familiar with irrigation and admiredthe sophistication of indigenous irrigation systems. Al-though some irrigated areas may have been abandoned onthe Peruvian coast due to the greater water requirementsof introduced crops (Schaedel, 1992), and there is evidenceof abandoned irrigated terraces in southern Perú (Sher-bondy and Villanueva, 1979), detailed study of the ir-rigation systems in northern highland Ecuador shows thatirrigated areas were usually highly prized and expandedduring colonial times (Knapp, 1992b). Irrigation is laborefficient; the effort of building and maintaining canals ismore than repaid by the increased productivity due toimproved soil fertility and optimization of water provisionthroughout the growing season. Also, irrigation permittedcultivation of lower, drier parts of intermontane valleyssuitable for the production of long-cycle crops. Thus, forexample, after Native Americans were relocated from theChota Valley in Ecuador, lands previously devoted to cocaproduction were put into sugar cane production with theuse of imported slave labor. Elsewhere in Ecuador, newcanals were installed upslope and downslope of pre-Columbian canals, providing for a net expansion of irri-gated land (Knapp, 1992b).

Spaniards were familiar with both personal alienablewater rights and with the concept of inalienable rights ofwater attached to pieces of land. The latter was the indig-enous understanding of water, and was readily acceptedby the colonial power as water rights were codified andlitigation introduced. Many of the local structures andcalendars of irrigation management were respected andretained, but water was managed by the elected officialsof the newly established towns rather than by traditionalchiefs and water officials (Guillet, 1992; Sherbondy, 1987;Mitchell and Guillet, 1994; Mitchell, 1991). Spaniards in-troduced the óvalo (water outlet of precise diameter toprovide a measured flow) to help allocate water to differ-ent branch canals, and occasionally deployed qanats andwater lifting devices, but otherwise their contribution toirrigation technology in South America was less importantthan the case in Mexico, where they deployed a variety ofaqueducts and dams, especially in late colonial times(Knapp, 1992b). Much research remains to be done to un-derstand better the patterns and processes of change inwater management during the colonial period.

Many valley sides of the central Andes were terraced atthe time of the conquest (Donkin, 1979). After the conquest,many of these terraces were abandoned, probably in partdue to the declining subsistence needs of a shrinking popu-lation. Such was the case, for example, in the Colca Val-ley, the site of the largest single complex of pre-Colombianterraces. Here, farmlands remained under the control ofmaize-growing indigenous farmers, but most of the less

accessible terraces seem to have been abandoned after theconquest (Treacy, 1994). Spaniards were familiar with ter-racing, but there is little evidence for Spanish constructionof terraces or other slope management features in colonialtimes.

As for the raised fields that occupied large areas in high-land flats as well as adjacent coastal lowlands and theLlanos de Mojos, most seem to have fallen into abandon-ment by colonial times, and in some cases they were aban-doned much earlier (Denevan, 2001; Knapp, 1999; Kolataet al., 1999). In highland Ecuador, for example, former ar-eas of raised fields became wetlands or areas of unmanagedpasturage, habitat for migratory ducks (Knapp, 1991).

Large areas of the Andes were being cultivated withouteither terracing or irrigation at the time of the conquest. Inhighland Ecuador, for example, the higher elevations wereused for medium-fallow potato cropping and lower eleva-tions for short-fallow maize cropping. Many other cropswere also grown, including a variety of tubers, tarwi,quinoa, chili pepper, and beans. We know little of the ex-act nature of intercropping or rotational practices, but it islikely that in some areas a community-wide sectoral fal-low system was followed (Zimmerer, 1996; Orlove andGodoy, 1986), and there were strategies for taking advan-tage of different ecological niches (Murra, 1972; Masudaet al., 1985; Caillavet, 2000). At higher elevations, and atlocations with excessive or deficient rainfall, fallows werelong enough to allow for the regrowth of brushland andwoodland habitat for foxes (Canis azarae), rabbits, deer,and gallinaceous fowl. A wide range of fruit trees weregrown, especially at somewhat lower elevations, includ-ing avocado, papaya, lúcuma, cherimoya, pacay, and treetomato (Knapp, 1991); willow (Salix humboldtiana) andpepper tree (Schinus molle) may also have been diffusedby humans in pre-Columbian times (Gade, 1999). Nativetrees were also planted on field margins, and quishuarspecies (Buddleja incana, Buddleja coriacea) were widelycultivated for wooden implements (Gade, 1999). Largequantities of firewood were harvested, but much of this wasmanaged by the Inca empire; there were state-managedstorehouses and groves (Gade, 1999). At higher elevationsgrasslands were maintained by clearing, grazing, and burn-ing (Gade, 1999).

Zimmerer (1996) has pointed out that the Inca statepromoted only a few land races of maize and potatoes instate-managed agricultural fields, leaving the bulk of land-race biodiversity in the hands of commoners. He attributedhigh crop diversity among commoners primarily to cultur-ally given livelihood norms, but attributed land-race di-versity to other (rather accidental) factors. It may be argued,however, that the growing of maize and potatoes in sepa-rate zones can be explained parsimoniously in terms ofmaturation times and labor inputs, given a household-levelorientation to labor efficiency in achieving subsistencegoals (Knapp, 1991). Potatoes require more labor to har-

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vest per calorie than maize; thus they normally will notbe grown in niches suitable for maize, and where they aregrown, fallow cycles and fertilization will be sufficient tomake their yields per unit of land so high that their plant-ing and weeding costs will be low relative to short-cyclegrain crops elsewhere (Knapp, 1991). While cultural pref-erences clearly lead farmers to find ways to provide forhabitual culinary needs, it is argued that environmentalfactors also have long-term significance. This divergenceof opinion calls for further research on the decision-mak-ing processes of the farmers. Zimmerer (1996) has sug-gested that land-race diversity in the Andes is in part anunanticipated consequence of localized seed-cycling pro-cesses, and has denied that this diversity has an ecologi-cal function. This fact is important for future cropbiodiversity conservation policies.

After the Spanish conquest, these patterns of land usecontinued, albeit with some new crops and changes totools. The relaciones geográficas (Jimenez de la Espada,1965) and other sources show that a wide range of Euro-pean crops were introduced into the Andes early in thecolonial period. Gade (1992) suggested that, given the rig-ors of crossing the Panama isthmus, the preferred route oftransfer of European crops and animals was fromHispaniola to Mexico and Nicaragua, and thence to theRimac Valley near Lima. Here seeds, cuttings, and animalswere picked up for diffusion along the Inca trail systemthrough the Andes, where they had become part of a hy-brid pan-Andean complex by the 1590s. This involvedfewer than fifteen thousand Spaniards in a region of onemillion surviving Indians, so that clerics, indigenous lead-ers, and colonists took on special importance (Gade, 1992).The high elevations in the Andes provided a welcomehabitat for European crops adapted to cooler weather. SomeEuropean crops were eventually incorporated into localrotation or intercropping, especially barley, wheat, andbroad beans. Wheat and barley were grown for tribute orsale, as well as an element in local soups and stews; strawand stubble were also a livestock feed (Gade, 1992). Thesesmall grains tended to displace quinoa in the same waybroad beans displaced tarwi (Gade, 1992). Wine grapeswere introduced with some success in coastal oases andhighland valleys, but never became widespread. Sugar canewas introduced successfully from the coast up to thewarmer inter-montane valleys (Knapp, 1992b), but its usefor producing sugar and alcohol remained a Spanish mo-nopoly (Gade, 1992). Successful fruit-tree introductionsincluded the orange, apple, pear, plum, peach, and capulincherry (from Mexico) (Gade, 1992). Under Spanish rule,commoner fields remained the home of most of the cropand land-race diversity; only a few crops and land-racesentered into markets or tribute (Zimmerer, 1996).

Much remains to be done to reconstruct the history oflivestock introductions. The Europeans understood localconcepts of commons, and deployed privately owned

herds in common areas such as ejidos near towns andcities. Donkeys were widely adopted by Indians as packanimals, and mules became the main beast of burden forlonger trips (Gade, 1992). Burning of high grasslands con-tinued, sometimes under the aegis of the Feast of St. Johnthe Baptist, a traditional occasion for bonfires (Gade,1999). In general, sheep seem to have replaced llamas andalpacas at high elevations below 3,500 meters, but thepace and timing remains to be determined. There does notseem to be any equivalent to the massive transhumantsheep economy introduced into Mexico, and no crisis ofovergrazing or erosion has been documented (Schaedel,1992: 233; Gade, 1992). Pigs and chickens were alsowidely adopted by indigenous farmers, and a few alsobegan raising cattle. One might speculate that it was incolonial times that farmers began to develop new manur-ing systems, including movable corrals in fields. Coupledwith population decline, this new supply of dung(Winterhalder et al., 1974) probably reduced the laborinput required to feed a family, and greatly reduced pro-duction pressures on more marginal lands. Although ox-drawn plows were an early introduction, their useremained localized in the colonial Andes (Schaedel, 1992;Gade, 1992: 468). Despite the field evidence for consid-erable gullying of unknown age and cause on manyslopes, the influence of livestock on sheet or gully ero-sion remains to be documented in the Andes for the co-lonial period (but see Gade, 1999). The black rat (Rattusrattus) was introduced to South America in the 1540s, andother rats, mice, and vermin also arrived in these earlydecades of colonialism (Gade, 1999).

The broad outlines of Spanish impact can be seen in theChilca Valley, just south of Lima. At the time of the con-quest, up to 10,000 people were living in this valley, grow-ing maize, pacay, lúcuma, cotton, peanuts, gourds, squash,and other crops, using a complex system of embankmentsto manage flood water farming, as well as sunken fields toenable direct use of water from the lens of fresh water underthe beach sand. By 1539, Chilca was part of a repartimiento,and was still being largely cultivated for maize, tubers, andfruit trees. However by the close of the sixteenth century,epidemics and other factors had reduced the populationof the valley to less than a thousand; grapes, figs, pome-granates, quince, and melons were being grown, alongsidetraditional maize cultivation and fishing activities. By 1653most of the fields were abandoned (Cobo, 1956), and bythe late 1700s the region was producing only salt and fishproducts, with very little farming, at least as visible to visi-tors (Knapp, 1978, 1982). Rostworowski de Diez Canseco(1981) has pointed out the adverse impacts of grazing, fire-wood collecting, and hunting on the dry woodlands andlomas of coastal Perú, alongside the maintenance of fish-ing and salt gathering activities. This case example is in-teresting in that the valley seems always to have been underthe substantial control of an indigenous population resis-

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tant to outsiders; no haciendas were established here. Theoverall trajectory of depopulation and disintensificationreaching a nadir in the 1600s and 1700s was characteris-tic of the entire Andean region.

The Spanish introduced iron technology, the sickle, tan-ning, tallow-processing (for lighting), soap making, winemaking, sugar milling and refining, distilling, bread ovensand water-driven grist milling, among many other technolo-gies (Gade, 1992; Schaedel, 1992). Spanish use of wood forbread ovens, brick factories, tile works, roof beams, doors,floors, coffins, furniture, window sashes, and charcoal, com-bined with browsing from sheep, provided stress on remain-ing woodlands in high Andean and coastal Peruvian valleysnear towns and cities, even given the countervailing reduc-tion of overall population and attempts at forest regulationthrough viceregal decrees. The result was most likely a re-duction of woodland from the already sparse pre-Columbiansituation (Gade, 1999; Rostworowski de Diez Canseco, 1981).Particularly devastated were cedro (Cedrella spp.) and nogal(Juglans neotropica), both of which were valued for furni-ture and other craft applications. Although not driven to ex-tinction, both were largely removed from more accessiblelocations (Gade, 1999).

In the high Andes, the main objects of long-distancetrade were silver and gold. Mercury mines discovered inHuancavelica, Perú, helped with the patio process of ex-tracting silver but had long-term health consequences forthose working with this substance. Logging for smeltingand mine timbers helped deforest slopes near mining cen-ters such as Potosí and Huancavelica (Gade, 1999). Min-ing pressures affected forests as far away as Chuquisaca(Sucre), 130 km away (Gade, 1999). The mining economyrequired provisioning of textiles and mules from distantareas in the Andes.

As a result of these impacts, the concept of “lo Andino”(characteristically Andean) as a timeless constant can becalled into question, especially insofar as some of its ad-vocates seem to imply that the Andes are a marginal, un-productive environment (Salman and Zoomies, 2003).

17.4 Other Regions

Coastal Brazil had numerous people and open, garden-likelandscapes prior to European settlement (Parsons, 1989),but after the conquest forests expanded due to indigenousdepopulation. Sugar plantations near the coast requiredclearings, and sugar mills and boiling houses required fire-wood and construction material (Sternberg, 1968). Muchof the forest was worked by shifting cultivation during thecolonial period, in some cases leading to a loss of soil fer-tility and forest degradation. The gold rush of late colonialtimes created one of the most serious episodes of environ-mental impact; over a million migrants were attracted toBrazil, and mining processes included the use of hydrau-

lic methods, designed to reveal placer gold, which com-monly caused hillsides to be washed away (Dean, 1995).Forays into the Brazilian interior to exploit various forestproducts had more localized impacts, including the re-moval of dyewoods such as various species of Caesalpina(Parsons, 1989; Dean, 1995).

As in the case of coastal Brazil, many of the indigenousgroups of northwestern South America were eliminated ordisplaced by the growth of new societies of mixed heritage.The Antioqueños of Colombia, for example, expandedthrough much of the highlands northwest of Bogotá, initiallyin search of gold. Miners and charcoal burners began theprocess of removing woodlands and forests, although muchof the environmental impact would occur later with thedevelopment of the coffee economy (Parsons, 1968).

The introduction of cattle, horses, sheep, goats, andother large domesticated animals resulted in a greater eco-nomic value for tropical grasslands and savannas. In tan-dem with the growth of herds, fodder crops such as alfalfawere introduced, and a long process began of importingnew grass species, many from Africa, suitable for SouthAmerican conditions. The resulting “Africanization” ofSouth American grasslands has been one of the most im-portant environmental processes over the last five centu-ries. Guinea Grass (Panicum maximum), Pará Grass(Brachiaria mutica), Jaraguá (Hyparrhenia rufa) and Mo-lasses Grass (Melinis minutifloria) were apparently allpresent in Brazil by the end of colonial times; they alsospread into Venezuela, Colombia, and other tropical grass-lands (Parsons, 1970). Cattle were introduced to the Ven-ezuelan Llanos by the 1540s, and by 1800 there may havebeen about a million cattle on these grassy plains (Parsons,1989). Horse nomadism began in the sixteenth century insouth-central Chile and Argentina, where it helped providemobility for Native American resistance to European oc-cupance until the nineteenth century (Schaedel, 1992).Cattle herding and ranching in various forms also ex-panded throughout the continent, providing meat andleather with a minimum of effort where land was abundant.

Metal tools (axes and ploughs) and animal power alsomeant that forest and grassland sod could be removed withmuch less effort than previously was the case. Thus, asDenevan (1992c) has argued, swidden became more effi-cient and forest agriculture more extensive: it was morelabor efficient to open new fields than continue torecultivate the same field. This may help to explain theabandonment of dark earth sites in Amazonia during co-lonial and later times. These are the prehistoric anthropo-genic black and brown soils discussed in chapter 16.

17.5 Legacy of Colonialism

In general, the colonial period in South America was oneof recovery for forests and some wetlands, as population

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decline and relocation led to reduced human impacts. Thehigh cost of transportation away from the coasts, and re-stricted trade with Europe and Asia, further reduced en-vironmental impacts. Locally severe impacts were,however, associated with particular high-value export ac-tivities, including silver mining in the central Andes, goldmining in Brazil and Colombia, and sugar cultivation incoastal Brazil. In particular, the demand for wood led tostress on woodlands and forests, especially in the Andesand coastal Brazil.

There were however four major colonial legacies thatwould become even more important after 1800: (1) thelegacy of insertion into a global system of trade and trans-fer, (2) the legacy of a coastal focus of development, (3)the legacy of cultural and caste diversity and divisions,and (4) a legacy of ethics, aesthetics, and attitudes towardnature.

Colonial regimes organized regional economies andinfrastructure to serve the needs of towns, cities, and Ibe-ria. In this early global division of labor, the emphasis wason high-value goods that could withstand high transpor-tation and transaction costs. These included preciousmetals and sugar. At a more local scale, trade was mobi-lized in grains, mules, leather, woolen and cotton textiles,and other goods. After independence, South America con-tinued to participate in global trade, developing new me-tallic and plantation resources. This would result in majorenvironmental impacts in areas devoted to the develop-ment of exports, for example of coffee, rubber, wheat, cattleproducts, and soybeans. Furthermore, these global linkagescontinued to facilitate the exchange of plants and animals,involving many unpredictable impacts that have contin-ued to the present day.

The spread of tropical lowland diseases and the focusof administrative, cultural, and economic centers near thecoasts helped establish a “hollow continent,” still visiblein the distribution of population and intensive land usetoday. Although areas in the interior were never truly iso-lated from global processes, the extensive habitats stillremaining are a colonial legacy. The major colonial ad-ministrative centers became the capitals of nations, andin some cases came overwhelmingly to concentrate po-litical, economic, and cultural functions, and becomeprimate cities. South America’s relatively high level andconcentration of urbanization continues to create its ownspecial environmental impacts and challenges for conser-vation (see chapter 20).

The creation of a segmented labor system with Africanslave, native American, mestizo, and Spanish castes, withcorresponding rights and legal frameworks, has been aug-mented more recently with other migrations, for exampleby Japanese, Lebanese, and German immigrants, with cor-responding impacts on the ethnic division of labor and thestructure of consumer demand. In some cases this has made

it more difficult to create a policy consensus, necessary forcertain types of conservation.

Finally, the legacy of an Iberian ethic, aesthetic, andperception of nature continues to affect the politics andscience of environment in South America. Only in the lastfew years has wilderness travel and ecotourism becomepopular within the region (as opposed to with tourists fromother regions). Similarly, the development of environmen-tal science in South America has been equally slow. Pro-posals for environmental protection will benefit from thelong Iberian tradition of interest in agronomy and human-ist relations with nature but will continue to struggle withthe lack of a wilderness ideal.

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the legacy of european colonialism

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